To capture the sands and winds, I must construct a spell of power, thought Amica, the very idea of her enchantment of Flying Machine almost exciting to her. She then considered the failures she had known with magic of late, failures both she and T'Kil had experienced...failures in which her spells seemed perhaps too effective. An example of such power was her own spear, Annuire, no doubt hidden aboard with T'Kil. She had enchanted the weapon...and it did behave and obey as she expected...but there had been something more of it, something she had awakened that she had not yet explored. I must not make the same mistake. To destroy Flying Machine would mean the death of us all, she realized, concerned more with the survival of her people than that of the vessel's crew.
Maverick's plan to send the guarrdi to sleep had merit. Indeed, she had never considered such an option as she did not know the workings of Flying Machine, and she did not believe she could bring it to go where she wished it to go. Still, his plan would be a valuable option if she could not capture the storm...and with the help of both Maverick and Jack Farrell, it seemed unlikely that the four of them would fail to at least give Flying Machine to go west. She considered upon just how she might give the crew to sleep, but she was drawn out of her thoughts by Jack Farrell's question to T'Kil.
She had not given to consider upon the lie she and T'Kil lived. They were most certainly not married, though she would not deny that such an arrangement did appeal to her if she were to survive her ordeal. Still, she offered no word or thought to correct them and claim her lie, and she had grown comfortable living with that lie. Maverick's earlier suggestions to keep herself perhaps chaperoned for her own integrity or safety hardly met with any great reaction or consideration from Amica...she gave little thought to the customs of any marriage much less the customs of other cultures...but Jack's rather blunt suggestion regarding how T'Kil might choose to spend his time did bring her to blush noticeably and avert her eyes from all three gentlemen.
"Then we are of one mind?" she asked, watching T'Kil to insure he had no objections and forging ahead to push past the awkward memories of the nights she had spent with the other shaman already. "Jack Farrell and Maverick Delora, I must give the compass of Flying Machine to obey me. If you might steal this away during the storm and bring it to me, then I might give it to lie for us quickly such that you might return it without notice," she suggested. She didn't know what the compass would be like...it could be something large and ponderous, or it might be something small and portable...but it would be a fine thing to do while the crew of the ship were distracted. Already she began inspecting the interior of Flying Machine to find a place where she might carve her enchantments of Flying Machine...and then potentially conceal them such that they would not be so very obvious once this Longest Storm began.
Warehouse District: The Scillus - 24 MT, Amica
Moderator: Mods
-
Guest
"Con-do-tierre" Maverick corrected politely, wondering why Jack had never before heard from this most famous legion of the Mouth, before agreeing "Yes, I believe you are right. T'kil could pick up interesting things eavesdropping." Hiding in shadows was by far a more productive task than simply staying with his wife. Mav didn't linger overly long on that thought, hastily adding "I'll talk to Rezon and see if I can get him to open up a bit. Liam, you say? Mmm.. interesting. Do we know who is the officer in charge of the soldiers?"
Turning back to Amica he gave a mock shudder before grinning at her "Please.. call me Maverick, or Mav. Only my grandmother calls me Maverick Delora, and that is right before a scolding. As a young boy I've had too many of them. " She had the same stern eyes as his grandmother Mav reflected, and he knew deep down that despite his protective instincts this native girl would be able to stand on her own two feet without needing help. Not that he would ever admit to that. With her western dress Amica had called upon his old prejudices of the weaker sex and it would be neigh impossible to shake that impression.
"The compass is likely to be near the captain. I'll see if I can capture it," Maverick added with a nod. It made a strange sort of sense to use it in a spell. If Rezon thought he was still going east it would be far easier to delude him.
Turning back to Amica he gave a mock shudder before grinning at her "Please.. call me Maverick, or Mav. Only my grandmother calls me Maverick Delora, and that is right before a scolding. As a young boy I've had too many of them. " She had the same stern eyes as his grandmother Mav reflected, and he knew deep down that despite his protective instincts this native girl would be able to stand on her own two feet without needing help. Not that he would ever admit to that. With her western dress Amica had called upon his old prejudices of the weaker sex and it would be neigh impossible to shake that impression.
"The compass is likely to be near the captain. I'll see if I can capture it," Maverick added with a nod. It made a strange sort of sense to use it in a spell. If Rezon thought he was still going east it would be far easier to delude him.
-
Jack Farrell
- Civus
- Posts: 296
- Joined: Sun May 22, 2005 1:05 pm
- Location: Citadel
- Contact:
At Maverick's words Jack spoke up quickly. "It was Rezon who asked me to find out what I can, I doubt he knows more than he told me. Apparently Liam has some unusual sleeping patterns and such things are of intrest to the Captain." Jack knew that Rezon had entrusted this task to him personally, and though Jack doubted he would mind Jack using the resources avaliable to him, he was not sure he would appreciate Mav drilling him with questions.
"Maybe if we can persuade the Marshal something was troubling his horse he might come down personally and you could talk to him..." Jack mulled the idea over. "Id suggest tying his fetlock with a little o' the horse's hair, it wont hurt the beast but will make him limp a little. It would give us a pretense. Anyway, ill leave it to you." Jack turned to leave the hold.
"Ok Amica, I will see what I can do about the compass - if there is only one. Any more than that and you might have to fool that with a little more magic." He nodded to Mav and Amica before meeting T'kil's eyes and leaving the hold.
"Maybe if we can persuade the Marshal something was troubling his horse he might come down personally and you could talk to him..." Jack mulled the idea over. "Id suggest tying his fetlock with a little o' the horse's hair, it wont hurt the beast but will make him limp a little. It would give us a pretense. Anyway, ill leave it to you." Jack turned to leave the hold.
"Ok Amica, I will see what I can do about the compass - if there is only one. Any more than that and you might have to fool that with a little more magic." He nodded to Mav and Amica before meeting T'kil's eyes and leaving the hold.
-
Guest
Mav blinked at Jack's little speech but said nothing, giving only a little shrug. Wasn't it more logical that he himself go after the compass? After all he was about to get into the better graces of the captain. That is, until he finds out I'm about to maroon him and the crew to go fullfill some illbegotten quest. I very much doubt I'll ever be in his good graces again after that.
"I will see," the rugged man said noncommital. He wasn't about to injury an innocent animal, but he didn't doubt there would be some subterfuge involved.
He waited to see if all of them were committed to the same gameplan, before nodding and walking off, going back up to the deck, looking for Rezon and a person called Liam, possibly the ... what was it that Jack had called it.. the Sky Marshal.
"I will see," the rugged man said noncommital. He wasn't about to injury an innocent animal, but he didn't doubt there would be some subterfuge involved.
He waited to see if all of them were committed to the same gameplan, before nodding and walking off, going back up to the deck, looking for Rezon and a person called Liam, possibly the ... what was it that Jack had called it.. the Sky Marshal.
-
Guest
“Yes, we are of one mind,†responded T’kil. “But realize the urgency of the matter here. We are not merely waiting for the storm to hit, the man named Luis knows now that you are aboard Amica. How long do you think before he tells the man called Rezon. He is this vessel’s pilot, no? He turned you down when you first requested passage. He will not be pleased to find that you are aboard.
“I will go above and find out how they are reacting to the storm. I am curious to see it myself. If it is a gift from Aeis then we at least now that there is still hope to thwart her plans. If I can find a way to delay Luis, I will.â€
He turned toward Maverick and Jack. “You two would be wise to keep Rezon and Luis from meeting. If we can keep them apart until the storm hits, there will be little they can do if Amica’s magic is in place.
“As far as a compass goes, Rezon’s quarters are on the main deck and I believe there was a man on top of the rear deck that appeared to piloting the ship or navigating when it landed in the city. I suggest going there first.â€
~
T’kil watched the two leave and turned toward his ‘wife’, his mouth drawn tight into a frown. From behind him, he produced Amica’s spear Annuire, it’s spearhead dull and lifeless, looking merely like the standard tool of the People, not the talisman of a powerful shaman. He handed it to her gently.
“Amica, this hold would be the logical place to begin your magicks. But, I caution you. You have seen how the power we call is stronger and more violent than we intend. While you were gone, I tried a simple circle, one only designed to light the room and the spirits reacted as if I’d thrown a death ward. I had to struggle with all of my strength to keep from hurting the one called Maverick. I do not believe it was only Annuire that fed off the power. It was something innate in the circle, feeding and growing stronger like flames in the wind. Only the strongest gust smothers the blaze.†He breathed a sigh of resignation. The woman before him was a powerful shaman in her own right. Once she was his student. Now, she was his lover. He wanted to protect her but yet it was she who would probably protect them both. Emotions and confusion welled inside him but he forced himself back to the course they had chosen.
“Stay down here if you can. Though it is open, this area has the fewest visitors, and there are long and confusing rows of crates making it ideal for hiding. The only problem is that you will be alone while the three of us are above deck. It is risky but every place in this ship seems to be.†He smiled as an idea popped into his head that obviously seemed ludicrous.
“That is, of course, unless you could get to the outside. I would wager there are fewer crew hanging on the hull than there are in here.â€
T’kil was ready to move. Amica could sense it in the man, even though he had only started to edge back to the shadows. He held his hand out for Amica to take as his gesture of farewell.
~
Maverick and Jack, please return to your previous thread here. I changed the thread title to indicate you are on the Upper Deck. Assume you arrive on deck unmolested.
“I will go above and find out how they are reacting to the storm. I am curious to see it myself. If it is a gift from Aeis then we at least now that there is still hope to thwart her plans. If I can find a way to delay Luis, I will.â€
He turned toward Maverick and Jack. “You two would be wise to keep Rezon and Luis from meeting. If we can keep them apart until the storm hits, there will be little they can do if Amica’s magic is in place.
“As far as a compass goes, Rezon’s quarters are on the main deck and I believe there was a man on top of the rear deck that appeared to piloting the ship or navigating when it landed in the city. I suggest going there first.â€
~
T’kil watched the two leave and turned toward his ‘wife’, his mouth drawn tight into a frown. From behind him, he produced Amica’s spear Annuire, it’s spearhead dull and lifeless, looking merely like the standard tool of the People, not the talisman of a powerful shaman. He handed it to her gently.
“Amica, this hold would be the logical place to begin your magicks. But, I caution you. You have seen how the power we call is stronger and more violent than we intend. While you were gone, I tried a simple circle, one only designed to light the room and the spirits reacted as if I’d thrown a death ward. I had to struggle with all of my strength to keep from hurting the one called Maverick. I do not believe it was only Annuire that fed off the power. It was something innate in the circle, feeding and growing stronger like flames in the wind. Only the strongest gust smothers the blaze.†He breathed a sigh of resignation. The woman before him was a powerful shaman in her own right. Once she was his student. Now, she was his lover. He wanted to protect her but yet it was she who would probably protect them both. Emotions and confusion welled inside him but he forced himself back to the course they had chosen.
“Stay down here if you can. Though it is open, this area has the fewest visitors, and there are long and confusing rows of crates making it ideal for hiding. The only problem is that you will be alone while the three of us are above deck. It is risky but every place in this ship seems to be.†He smiled as an idea popped into his head that obviously seemed ludicrous.
“That is, of course, unless you could get to the outside. I would wager there are fewer crew hanging on the hull than there are in here.â€
T’kil was ready to move. Amica could sense it in the man, even though he had only started to edge back to the shadows. He held his hand out for Amica to take as his gesture of farewell.
~
Maverick and Jack, please return to your previous thread here. I changed the thread title to indicate you are on the Upper Deck. Assume you arrive on deck unmolested.
(OOC: Sorry so long! Lots of solitary action here...)
Amica nodded at Maverick and Jack, rather comforted by their responses as well as T'Kil's advise. Indeed, there would be problems for her before too long from the crew, but if her devise for Flying Machine were successful, it would not matter. I must put my trust in them. They will not fail, she decided, for if they did, then she would soon enough be powerless to do anything more. But they seem a competent pair, she added, glancing over them as they departed. They were also quite attractive, and neither one seemed too guarrdi, as if they had been raised in the desert. That alone left Amica curious about them. Perhaps in time I might learn of them? Though time is that which I have not.
They were alone, even if for only a moment. Amica knew that such moments would be rare and precious...and likely rare and precious for the rest of their lives. Reaching out, she took T'Kil's hand and listened to his advise regarding her magic. She nodded to him, hearing that his own warnings reflected her concerns. It would be difficult...but it was the tool of a shaman. Even a broken spear might still slay the beast. I must find a way to make it work, she thought, watching the other shaman closely in the gloomy underdecks.
While thoughts magick unsettled her, the feel of Annuire's sturdy haft gave her some comfort...and the touch of T'Kil's hand gave her far more. Silently, she lifted his hand to her face and pressed it to her cheek. She wanted to offer her own warnings to the older shaman...she wanted to insure his safety...but such a thing would seem foolish to her as well. They were shaman, and this was their battle. Amica knew then that it was foolish to hope that T'Kil would not have made it aboard, for she understood then that the older shaman needed this battle to prove to the People that his way was the Path of Survival. If he were to help return the Peshawgo to his place, then the Council of Shamans would have no choice but to accept T'Kil among them again. Have I been selfish? Have I sought to keep T'Kil safe and protected for my own wishes? I have done this. If there is to be a battle against Dragonkind, his place is on the battlefield. And it will be on the battlefield with me.
"It will be as you say," she accepted, assuring T'Kil that she would stay below for as long as she might. Pausing for only a moment, she continued, her voice a low whisper in the cavernous cargo deck. "There will be a time for us, T'Kil," she declared, turning such that her lips brushed a kiss upon his hand. "We will have our time, in this life or the next."
She did not want T'Kil to see her weep. She did not want him to see her despondent or fearful or weak. Amica had given herself to be confident and certain before the eyes of her allies...and perhaps Maverick Delora and Jack Farrell believed her to be confident and certain, for that was the needs of a leader...but T'Kil would know what was truly in her heart. Uncertainty, hesitation, reservation, and fear. He would know this within her, but she would go on being strong. Lifting up upon her toes, she brushed another kiss upon T'Kil's cheek before she turned to disappear forward, towards the bow of the cargo deck, moving quickly such that T'Kil would not see the tears in her eyes. There will be another life, and in that one, I will not be shaman. In that one, I will have T'Kil as my husband and I will bear to him a dozen children, she thought, fleeing into the darkness and away from her lover, parting from him again.
~~
"Annuire ignacio," she commanded, calling upon the power of her spear to bring it's eery, green light against the dark gloom of Flying Machine's underdecks. Glancing back, she insured that T'Kil was no longer visible before she wiped at the moisture in her eyes. She must focus now, and she must use all her skills to control her magick. It would not do for her to weep upon her runes like a heartbroken child.
Perhaps this is all I have become? Did they not treat me as much when I had been captured by the Council of Elders?
The Council of Elders. Some time ago...maybe a week ago...Amica and the Peshawgo had been travelling through the Spirit World to his place. They were lovers then, but not as she and T'Kil. Hers was a carnal thing of surrender to the Peshawgo, one meant to tame him and keep him...and so they often went to the Peshawgo's mysterious place deep beneath the City of Tents to consummate their union and perhaps learn a little more of the memories the Peshawgo...the Great Dragon of Water...had lost. But they had been captured by the Elders...captured and confronted and held through magick. Amica had been angry then, but she had also been relieved, for her loyalties ran far deeper than her passions. The Elders could not be held to blame for losing the Peshawgo to Aeis, Dragon of Wind. After all, no one dared challenge a dragon.
But they had magick then! Amica herself could scribe her spells with confidence, as could Kelu Fassar and all the other shamans. What did they do to give their magicks to obey? thought Amica, a glimmer of excitement growing within her. They did something, and she began to understand what. Did they not ward and protect their camp against...Time? Did they not black out the circles of time and change within their own camp so that they might cast their spells with confidence? Is this what must be done? she thought, recalling the extensive wards and barriers the Elders had constructed around them.
A curse is a spell, like any other. This Curse of Dragonkind is powerful, and it is ancient, and it is great, reaching from one end of Mother Desert to the other...but it is still magick. Magick can be thwarted...changed...deceived... Amica could feel a smile growing upon her face. She could not emulate the sigils used by the Council...she had not studied them well enough to remake them...but she might attempt much the same thing in her own way. It would make her spell far more complex to construct and scribe, but it could be done...a spell protected from another spell, or perhaps designed to accept such interference from the curse and continue to function as needed.
Glancing around, Amica located the most likely place for her spell. She would use a section of the deck planks, and she would choose a place that might be hidden and covered by a nearby crate if she might move it. After all, she could carve the spell into the wood itself, and by covering it she could protect it from location to some degree. She leaned Annuire against the hull nearby, it's green light illuminating the planks, and she turned her knife upon herself, cutting her skirt apart down the front such that she could squat down more easily, pushing the skirt's excessive fabrics back behind her hips. Kneeling down, Amica tapped her knife into the planks for a few moments, planning her magic.
I must capture the sands and the winds, and I must give the spell to be protected from this...curse, she thought, glancing back to insure that the light of Annuire did not reach too far back to alert others of her works. If it did, she might place Annuire upon the deck with her such that it's light would be obscured. Perhaps I must begin with a Circle, that I might block out only this curse? The Elder Shaman warded against Time itself. Perhaps this curse acts in this way?
Reaching out, Amica began to carve, not the sigils themselves but a compact, careful circle, using her knife. She would begin with a circle of protection to ward magic out, a circle she knew well that might help the runes written within to function properly. It would take a few extra burns, but she had no choice. To do anything less would endanger Flying Machine...and her People...and T'Kil. When this was prepared, she could then carve the runes of her spell within the circle, runes that would hopefully catch and hold the coming storm such that, for the Scillus, the storm would never end.
Amica nodded at Maverick and Jack, rather comforted by their responses as well as T'Kil's advise. Indeed, there would be problems for her before too long from the crew, but if her devise for Flying Machine were successful, it would not matter. I must put my trust in them. They will not fail, she decided, for if they did, then she would soon enough be powerless to do anything more. But they seem a competent pair, she added, glancing over them as they departed. They were also quite attractive, and neither one seemed too guarrdi, as if they had been raised in the desert. That alone left Amica curious about them. Perhaps in time I might learn of them? Though time is that which I have not.
They were alone, even if for only a moment. Amica knew that such moments would be rare and precious...and likely rare and precious for the rest of their lives. Reaching out, she took T'Kil's hand and listened to his advise regarding her magic. She nodded to him, hearing that his own warnings reflected her concerns. It would be difficult...but it was the tool of a shaman. Even a broken spear might still slay the beast. I must find a way to make it work, she thought, watching the other shaman closely in the gloomy underdecks.
While thoughts magick unsettled her, the feel of Annuire's sturdy haft gave her some comfort...and the touch of T'Kil's hand gave her far more. Silently, she lifted his hand to her face and pressed it to her cheek. She wanted to offer her own warnings to the older shaman...she wanted to insure his safety...but such a thing would seem foolish to her as well. They were shaman, and this was their battle. Amica knew then that it was foolish to hope that T'Kil would not have made it aboard, for she understood then that the older shaman needed this battle to prove to the People that his way was the Path of Survival. If he were to help return the Peshawgo to his place, then the Council of Shamans would have no choice but to accept T'Kil among them again. Have I been selfish? Have I sought to keep T'Kil safe and protected for my own wishes? I have done this. If there is to be a battle against Dragonkind, his place is on the battlefield. And it will be on the battlefield with me.
"It will be as you say," she accepted, assuring T'Kil that she would stay below for as long as she might. Pausing for only a moment, she continued, her voice a low whisper in the cavernous cargo deck. "There will be a time for us, T'Kil," she declared, turning such that her lips brushed a kiss upon his hand. "We will have our time, in this life or the next."
She did not want T'Kil to see her weep. She did not want him to see her despondent or fearful or weak. Amica had given herself to be confident and certain before the eyes of her allies...and perhaps Maverick Delora and Jack Farrell believed her to be confident and certain, for that was the needs of a leader...but T'Kil would know what was truly in her heart. Uncertainty, hesitation, reservation, and fear. He would know this within her, but she would go on being strong. Lifting up upon her toes, she brushed another kiss upon T'Kil's cheek before she turned to disappear forward, towards the bow of the cargo deck, moving quickly such that T'Kil would not see the tears in her eyes. There will be another life, and in that one, I will not be shaman. In that one, I will have T'Kil as my husband and I will bear to him a dozen children, she thought, fleeing into the darkness and away from her lover, parting from him again.
~~
"Annuire ignacio," she commanded, calling upon the power of her spear to bring it's eery, green light against the dark gloom of Flying Machine's underdecks. Glancing back, she insured that T'Kil was no longer visible before she wiped at the moisture in her eyes. She must focus now, and she must use all her skills to control her magick. It would not do for her to weep upon her runes like a heartbroken child.
Perhaps this is all I have become? Did they not treat me as much when I had been captured by the Council of Elders?
The Council of Elders. Some time ago...maybe a week ago...Amica and the Peshawgo had been travelling through the Spirit World to his place. They were lovers then, but not as she and T'Kil. Hers was a carnal thing of surrender to the Peshawgo, one meant to tame him and keep him...and so they often went to the Peshawgo's mysterious place deep beneath the City of Tents to consummate their union and perhaps learn a little more of the memories the Peshawgo...the Great Dragon of Water...had lost. But they had been captured by the Elders...captured and confronted and held through magick. Amica had been angry then, but she had also been relieved, for her loyalties ran far deeper than her passions. The Elders could not be held to blame for losing the Peshawgo to Aeis, Dragon of Wind. After all, no one dared challenge a dragon.
But they had magick then! Amica herself could scribe her spells with confidence, as could Kelu Fassar and all the other shamans. What did they do to give their magicks to obey? thought Amica, a glimmer of excitement growing within her. They did something, and she began to understand what. Did they not ward and protect their camp against...Time? Did they not black out the circles of time and change within their own camp so that they might cast their spells with confidence? Is this what must be done? she thought, recalling the extensive wards and barriers the Elders had constructed around them.
A curse is a spell, like any other. This Curse of Dragonkind is powerful, and it is ancient, and it is great, reaching from one end of Mother Desert to the other...but it is still magick. Magick can be thwarted...changed...deceived... Amica could feel a smile growing upon her face. She could not emulate the sigils used by the Council...she had not studied them well enough to remake them...but she might attempt much the same thing in her own way. It would make her spell far more complex to construct and scribe, but it could be done...a spell protected from another spell, or perhaps designed to accept such interference from the curse and continue to function as needed.
Glancing around, Amica located the most likely place for her spell. She would use a section of the deck planks, and she would choose a place that might be hidden and covered by a nearby crate if she might move it. After all, she could carve the spell into the wood itself, and by covering it she could protect it from location to some degree. She leaned Annuire against the hull nearby, it's green light illuminating the planks, and she turned her knife upon herself, cutting her skirt apart down the front such that she could squat down more easily, pushing the skirt's excessive fabrics back behind her hips. Kneeling down, Amica tapped her knife into the planks for a few moments, planning her magic.
I must capture the sands and the winds, and I must give the spell to be protected from this...curse, she thought, glancing back to insure that the light of Annuire did not reach too far back to alert others of her works. If it did, she might place Annuire upon the deck with her such that it's light would be obscured. Perhaps I must begin with a Circle, that I might block out only this curse? The Elder Shaman warded against Time itself. Perhaps this curse acts in this way?
Reaching out, Amica began to carve, not the sigils themselves but a compact, careful circle, using her knife. She would begin with a circle of protection to ward magic out, a circle she knew well that might help the runes written within to function properly. It would take a few extra burns, but she had no choice. To do anything less would endanger Flying Machine...and her People...and T'Kil. When this was prepared, she could then carve the runes of her spell within the circle, runes that would hopefully catch and hold the coming storm such that, for the Scillus, the storm would never end.
-
Guest
OOC: Very insightful. The spirits guide the faithful.
IC: Annuire’s pull was still strong as the spear lay against the hull of the ship. It had reacted to her words of instruction like a child called in from play. Yes, its spirit recognized her, but it would only reluctantly do her bidding. Still, it bathed the hold in the pallid green light necessary for Amica to see her actions. Annuire was the epitome of her magical quandary. Before Aeis had taken the Peshawgo, she and the elders alike could exercise their powers without fear of backlash. Now, her powers were unbalanced and untamed, as if the rules that governed her magic had begun to fade.
~
Her knife bit easily into the wood of the hull as her circle of protection began to take shape. It was a form familiar to the shaman, one of the more basic rites taught to the novices of the Black Tribe. Each circle, though, was unique to the shaman who created it, reflecting their inner selves in ways their conscious could not express. The power of a circle also reflected the creator but, unlike the exact style, was something that could be manipulated and increased. Intersecting lines with the core shape and inserting contradicting shapes could alter the focus of a circle’s power, be it protection from the elements or protection from the dead.
When she finished, her wrist ached and her knees burned but the circle lay unbroken on the cleared space before her. She could sense its power before she stood for she had created a circle more powerful than she’d imagined. Most circles were made with sand or chalk and drawn on the surface of an object. Amica’s circle, though, was permanently etched into the very wood of the hull. The result was a force of protection stronger than any Amica had encountered. Yet, it was in line with her other attempts to use her powers. Each time she tapped into her magick, the result came back tenfold. The circle had been no different. The crew was fortunate that Amica had not taken the offensive with her magick.
OOC: I wasn’t sure if you wanted to write the creation of the runes or not. Let me know and I can edit.
IC: Annuire’s pull was still strong as the spear lay against the hull of the ship. It had reacted to her words of instruction like a child called in from play. Yes, its spirit recognized her, but it would only reluctantly do her bidding. Still, it bathed the hold in the pallid green light necessary for Amica to see her actions. Annuire was the epitome of her magical quandary. Before Aeis had taken the Peshawgo, she and the elders alike could exercise their powers without fear of backlash. Now, her powers were unbalanced and untamed, as if the rules that governed her magic had begun to fade.
~
Her knife bit easily into the wood of the hull as her circle of protection began to take shape. It was a form familiar to the shaman, one of the more basic rites taught to the novices of the Black Tribe. Each circle, though, was unique to the shaman who created it, reflecting their inner selves in ways their conscious could not express. The power of a circle also reflected the creator but, unlike the exact style, was something that could be manipulated and increased. Intersecting lines with the core shape and inserting contradicting shapes could alter the focus of a circle’s power, be it protection from the elements or protection from the dead.
When she finished, her wrist ached and her knees burned but the circle lay unbroken on the cleared space before her. She could sense its power before she stood for she had created a circle more powerful than she’d imagined. Most circles were made with sand or chalk and drawn on the surface of an object. Amica’s circle, though, was permanently etched into the very wood of the hull. The result was a force of protection stronger than any Amica had encountered. Yet, it was in line with her other attempts to use her powers. Each time she tapped into her magick, the result came back tenfold. The circle had been no different. The crew was fortunate that Amica had not taken the offensive with her magick.
OOC: I wasn’t sure if you wanted to write the creation of the runes or not. Let me know and I can edit.
(OOC: Oh no, that was wonderful! I only hope I can keep the good scene going...)
It was there, and it was thick...the same sickness she could feel earlier, the same that had given birth to Annuire, the same that all shaman seemed to feel across Mother Desert. It had to be the curse...and yet it felt so powerful! Sitting back upon her heels, Amica gazed down at her creation, utterly amazed at what she had done. She could not deny that she felt proud of the construct...proud of the circle...and hopeful that it might succeed in holding out the curse of her homeland and give her real spell within a chance to function as she expected.
May the ancestors guide me, she thought, taking a few haggard breaths as she rested upon the planks for a moment, seated as she was upon her heels. Her knees burned and her wrist was growing weak, but thankfully the most difficult part of her works had been completed...and completed well from the feel of it. Now she had only to build her spell within the circle, and trust in Fate that she would not destroy them all, for her spell to capture the storm would be simple, but it must be potent.
I give you Fles and D'reb, the little winds grown big, that you might live and play here... she scratched those symbols at the heart of the circle. I give you T'huh for strength, and Salli for the sands, and F'hir to keep you close... Scratching away, Amica would draw upon the storm outside and snare it around Flying Machine, like a great djinni that circled and turned around Him and moved with them, spinning and turning, dark and foreboding, a curious sight in the distance and yet terrifying within. She would draw this and carve it into place, both her hands upon her knife to support her weakening wrist as she worked to complete her spell, ready to cast Scillus into obscurity for as long as it took to bring Scillus to the distant mountains beyond.
It was there, and it was thick...the same sickness she could feel earlier, the same that had given birth to Annuire, the same that all shaman seemed to feel across Mother Desert. It had to be the curse...and yet it felt so powerful! Sitting back upon her heels, Amica gazed down at her creation, utterly amazed at what she had done. She could not deny that she felt proud of the construct...proud of the circle...and hopeful that it might succeed in holding out the curse of her homeland and give her real spell within a chance to function as she expected.
May the ancestors guide me, she thought, taking a few haggard breaths as she rested upon the planks for a moment, seated as she was upon her heels. Her knees burned and her wrist was growing weak, but thankfully the most difficult part of her works had been completed...and completed well from the feel of it. Now she had only to build her spell within the circle, and trust in Fate that she would not destroy them all, for her spell to capture the storm would be simple, but it must be potent.
I give you Fles and D'reb, the little winds grown big, that you might live and play here... she scratched those symbols at the heart of the circle. I give you T'huh for strength, and Salli for the sands, and F'hir to keep you close... Scratching away, Amica would draw upon the storm outside and snare it around Flying Machine, like a great djinni that circled and turned around Him and moved with them, spinning and turning, dark and foreboding, a curious sight in the distance and yet terrifying within. She would draw this and carve it into place, both her hands upon her knife to support her weakening wrist as she worked to complete her spell, ready to cast Scillus into obscurity for as long as it took to bring Scillus to the distant mountains beyond.
-
Guest
Amica’s knees were raw and bled freely when she’d completed her runes. Her palms burned with the blisters and sweat stung her eyes, dripping freely from her brow. But, despite the pain, her creation was complete. Her runes, the tangible symbols of her power, were now etched in the hull of the Scillus and they throbbed with her power. It was not the conscious-like conflict that seemed to drive Annuire’s fledgling personality but rather they each pulsed with a singular purpose. They were vessels of magic as much as they were symbols. Imbued with the power of a shaman, they would act on their purpose in one mighty flood of magic. Amica had created the runes as best she could and to her, they seemed proper. The only thing left for her to do was to wait until the storm arrived.
She now sat in the fading darkness of the hold and she could hear the gathering wind buffet the hull. The tiny grains of sand caught in the furious gales were not hard to imagine pelting the reinforced wooden walls of the ship and eating into the finish. Blown by raging winds, the eroding power of sand was not something to dismiss. The landscape of Terra Incognita was dotted with ancient mountains and mesas that had tried to withstand the onslaught of sandstorms. The desert, though, was patient. Thousands of yahren were not too long to remove even a single rock outcropping blighting the otherwise smooth terrain. In the end, the desert would have its way.
And this was the force Amica had dared harness.
She now sat in the fading darkness of the hold and she could hear the gathering wind buffet the hull. The tiny grains of sand caught in the furious gales were not hard to imagine pelting the reinforced wooden walls of the ship and eating into the finish. Blown by raging winds, the eroding power of sand was not something to dismiss. The landscape of Terra Incognita was dotted with ancient mountains and mesas that had tried to withstand the onslaught of sandstorms. The desert, though, was patient. Thousands of yahren were not too long to remove even a single rock outcropping blighting the otherwise smooth terrain. In the end, the desert would have its way.
And this was the force Amica had dared harness.
Scraped and raw, Amica tried to ignore the abuse she had done her knees. Once again, she was reminded of the horrible uselessness of guarrdi clothing...she had legging boots that would have saved her the worst of the damage...but at least her task was done. All that remained was to cover the sigla with part of the cargo...anything would do...before she might slip away, content to activate the runes when the time came.
The time she sought drew near. The winds buffeted Flying Machine, and soon enough the sands came, no doubt bringing with it the gloomy, eery darkness of the Sandstorm. Soon, she thought, pushing a crate of something over her rune to cover it in what she hoped would be a random, unintentional way. "Annuire Ignacae", she demanded softly, dispelling the gloomy, green glow and plunging her back into darkness.
The deed was done, and nothing was left but to move aft towards the horse once more, for it had been some time since Amica had been so close to any of those animals and she could not deny a sense of curiosity and protectiveness. The animal would grow fearful in the coming storm, and a friendly voice might indeed go far to help soothe it. Should I now regain Sky Captain's chambers to collect my things? thought Amica, moving back towards the horse. I will do so in time, but I will wait here until I have released my spell... she decided, keeping one ear out to await the moment when the storm was at it's best strength.
The time she sought drew near. The winds buffeted Flying Machine, and soon enough the sands came, no doubt bringing with it the gloomy, eery darkness of the Sandstorm. Soon, she thought, pushing a crate of something over her rune to cover it in what she hoped would be a random, unintentional way. "Annuire Ignacae", she demanded softly, dispelling the gloomy, green glow and plunging her back into darkness.
The deed was done, and nothing was left but to move aft towards the horse once more, for it had been some time since Amica had been so close to any of those animals and she could not deny a sense of curiosity and protectiveness. The animal would grow fearful in the coming storm, and a friendly voice might indeed go far to help soothe it. Should I now regain Sky Captain's chambers to collect my things? thought Amica, moving back towards the horse. I will do so in time, but I will wait here until I have released my spell... she decided, keeping one ear out to await the moment when the storm was at it's best strength.
-
Guest
At first, the mental nudge seemed to be just another gust of wind, albeit a powerful one. The wind had been increasing steadily and Amica could imagine that individual fists were pounding on the wooden hull, desperately trying to break through. In her mind, though was really a new feeling and was challenging to distinguish. Only when the imagery accompanied the mental intrusion did Amica realize that something strange was happening. Still, there was an odd familiarity to the pushing, as if it were someone familiar.
The storm suddenly took shape in her mind, as if she were on deck watching the cloud of sand approach. She could see clearly that it would hit within moments, a few burns at most. Those few sailors on deck scrambled about, listening to orders barked by their commanders. At one end of the boat, she could see the bright red coat of Rezon and the figure of Maverick. They were peering through an eyeglass directly at the storm. And then the scene changed, almost as if it moved to the spyglass itself for what Amica saw could only be the very core of the storm. But what she saw in its center was something completely unexpected.
Like two embers, blossoming back to life after a burst of air, a pair of eyes appeared in the heart of the whirling sand. And then, the image in her mind vanished.
The storm suddenly took shape in her mind, as if she were on deck watching the cloud of sand approach. She could see clearly that it would hit within moments, a few burns at most. Those few sailors on deck scrambled about, listening to orders barked by their commanders. At one end of the boat, she could see the bright red coat of Rezon and the figure of Maverick. They were peering through an eyeglass directly at the storm. And then the scene changed, almost as if it moved to the spyglass itself for what Amica saw could only be the very core of the storm. But what she saw in its center was something completely unexpected.
Like two embers, blossoming back to life after a burst of air, a pair of eyes appeared in the heart of the whirling sand. And then, the image in her mind vanished.
With her construction complete, Amica moved forward, cautious to remain aware of the energies swirling around her. She had to know when to unleash the magicks of her efforts, a moment in which she might capture Storm and use it as a veil to obscure the ground and give Flying Machine to obey her bidding. Even as she neared the horse, she could feel the energies building and building, buffeting the hull of the machine and driving them back. And within the wind...
Aeis. She always knew it was possible. The Dragon of Wind could not be avoided now, and while Amica might cast her prepared spell, it would do nothing to help them against her nemesis. Then she has found us and there is no hope, thought Amica, casting her eyes around the darkness of the lower hold as if in search of an option. Flying Machine had been a good option...a way to travel quickly...but it had placed them in Aeis' power completely, and their only hope of survival would now lie in...
We must return to the ground. If they were crashed upon the desert floor...or even the sea...then they might survive Aeis' attack. The wind fought with Mother Desert or Father Ocean, but it could not breach them...and if they were to crash upon the ground, they might yet survive her attack. Amica would be forced to cross the desert on foot...Or perhaps I might protect and steal Brother Horse...but there was no helping that now. The Scillus must be brought down.
When she tried to move, Amica found that her body had grown tense and stiff with the realization that the Dragon was upon them. She had to force herself to move...to find out what kept Flying Machine aloft, and to give it to break and fail. She would not activate her Storm Catching rune, for it would serve no purpose now...she would leave it lifeless...and she would flee to the stern of the ship where the great blades protruded to push the craft forward. Somewhere along the way, she hoped to find the magicks the held Flying Machine aloft. If she could find it, then she might undo it.
Aeis. She always knew it was possible. The Dragon of Wind could not be avoided now, and while Amica might cast her prepared spell, it would do nothing to help them against her nemesis. Then she has found us and there is no hope, thought Amica, casting her eyes around the darkness of the lower hold as if in search of an option. Flying Machine had been a good option...a way to travel quickly...but it had placed them in Aeis' power completely, and their only hope of survival would now lie in...
We must return to the ground. If they were crashed upon the desert floor...or even the sea...then they might survive Aeis' attack. The wind fought with Mother Desert or Father Ocean, but it could not breach them...and if they were to crash upon the ground, they might yet survive her attack. Amica would be forced to cross the desert on foot...Or perhaps I might protect and steal Brother Horse...but there was no helping that now. The Scillus must be brought down.
When she tried to move, Amica found that her body had grown tense and stiff with the realization that the Dragon was upon them. She had to force herself to move...to find out what kept Flying Machine aloft, and to give it to break and fail. She would not activate her Storm Catching rune, for it would serve no purpose now...she would leave it lifeless...and she would flee to the stern of the ship where the great blades protruded to push the craft forward. Somewhere along the way, she hoped to find the magicks the held Flying Machine aloft. If she could find it, then she might undo it.
-
Jack Farrell
- Civus
- Posts: 296
- Joined: Sun May 22, 2005 1:05 pm
- Location: Citadel
- Contact:
Jack ducked his head into the hold. He felt anxiety in his chest. The Storm was about to hit, already the hull creaked with the buffetting winds. Jack narrowed his eyes, the storm was closer than he had expected. His first thoughts went to the horse, it needed some sort of protection for its face, the dust-like sand would permeate the entire ship, a film of yellow dust to clog the lungs and irritate the throat. A horse, being unable to hold its breath, would be more vulnerable than the crew to the insidious whisps that stole through breaches in the hull.
Jack noticed Amica almost as soon as he entered the hold, she looked more than a little worse for wear.
"Amica! The storm is moments behind me and it looks like the mother of all of 'em." Jack was looking for a blanket, anything he could use to cover the horse's head to protect it from the sands. He needed something for himself also but he saw to the horse first.
"Where is T'kil?" He asked, draping the blanket over the proud beast and uttering soothing words despite the edge of fear to his voice. He did not shutter its eyes, not until the storm hit for to do so would panic the horse in itself. "We need to brace for it, the first gales are knocking on the door. This is going to be a whore to ride out."
Jack looked down at her dress, she looked strange in it - uncomfortable did not quite convey the entirety of what he saw. She truely was a wolf draped in the hide of a sheep.
Jack noticed Amica almost as soon as he entered the hold, she looked more than a little worse for wear.
"Amica! The storm is moments behind me and it looks like the mother of all of 'em." Jack was looking for a blanket, anything he could use to cover the horse's head to protect it from the sands. He needed something for himself also but he saw to the horse first.
"Where is T'kil?" He asked, draping the blanket over the proud beast and uttering soothing words despite the edge of fear to his voice. He did not shutter its eyes, not until the storm hit for to do so would panic the horse in itself. "We need to brace for it, the first gales are knocking on the door. This is going to be a whore to ride out."
Jack looked down at her dress, she looked strange in it - uncomfortable did not quite convey the entirety of what he saw. She truely was a wolf draped in the hide of a sheep.
-
Guest
She was growing frantic, and she knew it. Panic is what prey feels before it is dinner, she knew, her options falling away from her one at a time. Now she was backed into a corner, with Aeis' attack intent and capable of destroying Flying Machine and all aboard her. Even if she could force it to the ground, there was no guarantee that they would survive long enough to crash...and no guarantee regarding where they might crash. The desert turri blew ever eastward, and it would only assist Aeis' great strength to drive Flying Machine far, far away...out to sea and beyond, to the distant lands beyond the Endless Oceans.
So submerged was she in her own thoughts, Amica did not notice Jack Farrell return when he did. It was not until he spoke that she attended to him, yelping when he entered in a way that was far from dignified. Stopping in her tracks, she listened to him closely and followed his gaze to her dress, suddenly self-conscious she had torn it so.
"There will be no surviving this storm, Jack Farrell. It is the Breath of Aeis, and with it she will slay us all," replied Amica quickly...and with some guilt. After all, the fault for the attack was all her own. She could have left Flying Machine to go about it's Business of War, unconcerned about it's place in a war between wetlanders so far away...but instead she sought to use Flying Machine to aid her in her battle against the Dragon of Wind, and that would place all within the flying ship at risk. If I were not aboard Flying Machine, then Aeis, Dragon of Wind, would not strike at it so. If the hunter would chase two jackrabbits, then she will lose them both.
"I cannot protect Flying Machine. I must give Her to fall, Jack Farrell. We must bring her back to earth now, or we will all perish," she declared, stepping aside such that she might slip past and move on to inspect the magics that made Flying Machine...fly. Before she fled away, she paused. "I am sorry I have brought my fate to you, Jack Farrell. I did not believe Aeis, Dragon of Wind, could see me here. i did not believe she would know to strike Flying Machine. I have shared my risk with you. I did not wish for this to happen."
So submerged was she in her own thoughts, Amica did not notice Jack Farrell return when he did. It was not until he spoke that she attended to him, yelping when he entered in a way that was far from dignified. Stopping in her tracks, she listened to him closely and followed his gaze to her dress, suddenly self-conscious she had torn it so.
"There will be no surviving this storm, Jack Farrell. It is the Breath of Aeis, and with it she will slay us all," replied Amica quickly...and with some guilt. After all, the fault for the attack was all her own. She could have left Flying Machine to go about it's Business of War, unconcerned about it's place in a war between wetlanders so far away...but instead she sought to use Flying Machine to aid her in her battle against the Dragon of Wind, and that would place all within the flying ship at risk. If I were not aboard Flying Machine, then Aeis, Dragon of Wind, would not strike at it so. If the hunter would chase two jackrabbits, then she will lose them both.
"I cannot protect Flying Machine. I must give Her to fall, Jack Farrell. We must bring her back to earth now, or we will all perish," she declared, stepping aside such that she might slip past and move on to inspect the magics that made Flying Machine...fly. Before she fled away, she paused. "I am sorry I have brought my fate to you, Jack Farrell. I did not believe Aeis, Dragon of Wind, could see me here. i did not believe she would know to strike Flying Machine. I have shared my risk with you. I did not wish for this to happen."
-
Jack Farrell
- Civus
- Posts: 296
- Joined: Sun May 22, 2005 1:05 pm
- Location: Citadel
- Contact:
"Whoa whoa whoa!" Jack exclaimed, placing one hand on Amica's wrist. "Give it to fall? You want to ground us!?" Jack could barely keep the shock and suprise from his voice. This girl was crazy, insane even. Jack looked from her wide green eyes to the horse, blanket draped over his neck. There was not enough time for this, the storm could only be flickers away, the buffeting on the hull was intensifying.
"There isnt time Amica," He spoke, releasing her arm, "The storm is flickers behind me. Even If you could somehow get to the rear in time we are hundreds of paces from the desert floor traveling at..." Jack paused to calculate, "Around 15 to 20 knots and we will pick up speed as we fall. You stop this bird flying and we are all going to die." Jack felt the edge of panic to his voice, this was not going well.
Aeris... Amica was sure? If it was the Dragon itself that commanded that wind then this was going to get violent very quickly. Jack wracked his mind - the Scillus was only a creation of wood and canvas, strong winds would tear it apart as surely as Amica's crash. Jack cursed, there was just no time, no time to think something up before the Scillus was engulfed in the fury of the dragon of wind. How do you kill a dragon? Jack balked at the very Idea. A few days ago he would have questioned if there were any of the beasts left...
"Amica, this is a ship of war - there has to be some way we can defend ourselves without plunging to the sandy depths. Please, think, how can we kill a dragon?" Jack narrowed his gaze, this would take more than his falchion he felt...
"There isnt time Amica," He spoke, releasing her arm, "The storm is flickers behind me. Even If you could somehow get to the rear in time we are hundreds of paces from the desert floor traveling at..." Jack paused to calculate, "Around 15 to 20 knots and we will pick up speed as we fall. You stop this bird flying and we are all going to die." Jack felt the edge of panic to his voice, this was not going well.
Aeris... Amica was sure? If it was the Dragon itself that commanded that wind then this was going to get violent very quickly. Jack wracked his mind - the Scillus was only a creation of wood and canvas, strong winds would tear it apart as surely as Amica's crash. Jack cursed, there was just no time, no time to think something up before the Scillus was engulfed in the fury of the dragon of wind. How do you kill a dragon? Jack balked at the very Idea. A few days ago he would have questioned if there were any of the beasts left...
"Amica, this is a ship of war - there has to be some way we can defend ourselves without plunging to the sandy depths. Please, think, how can we kill a dragon?" Jack narrowed his gaze, this would take more than his falchion he felt...
"We must give Flying Machine to fall now or she will slay us," replied Amica, her voice steady despite the hammering in her heart. Certainly she was frightened of dying...death was a very fearful, uncertain transition...but so too was she frightened of failure, for if they all perished she did not know how Aeis' plans might be stopped. Jack did not appreciate her plans to crash Flying Machine...no doubt that would be dangerous as well...but he did not fully respect what was about to happen to them.
"We will not fight Aeis today, Jack Farrell. She will not be here. She has no reason to challenge us directly, for she need not," explained Amica carefully. She had seen the dragon's power, savage cunning, and caution all on display. "In her stead, she sends the winds. Like the hunter, she does not come close enough to strike because she does not have to. I have seen her power upon this storm, and it is made to destroy us. The Dragon of Wind will not allow us to trespass upon her sky any longer...and Wind finds ally in Water, and so if we do not act quickly she will blow us out into the Great Seas. We will drown there, for she will blow upon the waters until we do! Only upon the Earth will we be safe from Wind and Storm, and so we must go there at once!"
"I will use what skill I have to treat those injured in our fall, but no skill of mine can save us if we are thrown into the waters of the Endless Seas. It is now when you must choose which danger is less, Jack Farrell. The dangers of our crash must be less, for unlike the Winds, the Waters, and the Storm, the Earth does not seek to kill us."
"We will not fight Aeis today, Jack Farrell. She will not be here. She has no reason to challenge us directly, for she need not," explained Amica carefully. She had seen the dragon's power, savage cunning, and caution all on display. "In her stead, she sends the winds. Like the hunter, she does not come close enough to strike because she does not have to. I have seen her power upon this storm, and it is made to destroy us. The Dragon of Wind will not allow us to trespass upon her sky any longer...and Wind finds ally in Water, and so if we do not act quickly she will blow us out into the Great Seas. We will drown there, for she will blow upon the waters until we do! Only upon the Earth will we be safe from Wind and Storm, and so we must go there at once!"
"I will use what skill I have to treat those injured in our fall, but no skill of mine can save us if we are thrown into the waters of the Endless Seas. It is now when you must choose which danger is less, Jack Farrell. The dangers of our crash must be less, for unlike the Winds, the Waters, and the Storm, the Earth does not seek to kill us."
-
Jack Farrell
- Civus
- Posts: 296
- Joined: Sun May 22, 2005 1:05 pm
- Location: Citadel
- Contact:
"Have you never hit the dust girl!?" Jack could not believe this, it was all going so well...
"What the ground 'seeks' means fuck all. You drop this ship and we will all die sure as the sun rises. T'kil told me your spirits are angry, you can barely harness their power as it is let alone refrain it - do you really think you can siphon the magic from this ship with any sense of control?" Jack could remember the shaman struggling with the spear, Annuire he called it and it thirsted for blood. "Look at you, you wrought something here using your runes and you look like you have done very badly in a brawl - you think you can control the sorcery of this entire vessel whilst Aeris assaults it?"
Jack had no faith in magic, it was something he did not understand. What he did understand was people, he had always had a certain affinity for working people, playing them like cards. He barely knew this woman yet he could tell that the situation had escalated beyond her control. To risk a fatal crash she truely was at the end of her rope. Jack was not sure she was wrong to be so.
He turned to face the wall, he needed something, a flash of something to inspire him into action. He exhaled, took a deep calming breath and set his problem out in his mind. The exercise took only a few seconds - the answer was obvious really.
"The Helm."
It would not be easy, the crew would not simple aquiesce to the cabin boy pointing the ship at the desert floor and they would need Rezon to give them some sembalance of a survivable landing - Jack did not overestimate his abilities.
"Can you protect me? With your skills? Enough that we might take the helm and coerce the ship down?" Jack turned to face her, "Rather than dropping like a stone..." He smiled, it was a sly grin - and usually won him a punch in the arm from the girls on the caravans. Jack wanted to lighten the mood.
"What the ground 'seeks' means fuck all. You drop this ship and we will all die sure as the sun rises. T'kil told me your spirits are angry, you can barely harness their power as it is let alone refrain it - do you really think you can siphon the magic from this ship with any sense of control?" Jack could remember the shaman struggling with the spear, Annuire he called it and it thirsted for blood. "Look at you, you wrought something here using your runes and you look like you have done very badly in a brawl - you think you can control the sorcery of this entire vessel whilst Aeris assaults it?"
Jack had no faith in magic, it was something he did not understand. What he did understand was people, he had always had a certain affinity for working people, playing them like cards. He barely knew this woman yet he could tell that the situation had escalated beyond her control. To risk a fatal crash she truely was at the end of her rope. Jack was not sure she was wrong to be so.
He turned to face the wall, he needed something, a flash of something to inspire him into action. He exhaled, took a deep calming breath and set his problem out in his mind. The exercise took only a few seconds - the answer was obvious really.
"The Helm."
It would not be easy, the crew would not simple aquiesce to the cabin boy pointing the ship at the desert floor and they would need Rezon to give them some sembalance of a survivable landing - Jack did not overestimate his abilities.
"Can you protect me? With your skills? Enough that we might take the helm and coerce the ship down?" Jack turned to face her, "Rather than dropping like a stone..." He smiled, it was a sly grin - and usually won him a punch in the arm from the girls on the caravans. Jack wanted to lighten the mood.
-
Guest
OOC: Let's move it along
IC: Jack had no chance to hear Amica's reply. The ship lurched suddenly, slapped violently by the wind of the storm. Jack instantly lost his balance and fell to the floor. His head knocked into a box with an impact he knew would leave a mark. Boxes began to tumble from their perch, crashing into the floor and the horse whinnied loudly. Panic was beginning to set in the animal. Of Amica, there was no sign, audible or visible. A stack of crates twice as tall as a man had fallen straight on her location.
There was a brief moment of calm before a second powerful gust rocked the ship. Jack felt himself sliding along the floor, headed straight toward another tumbling crate.
IC: Jack had no chance to hear Amica's reply. The ship lurched suddenly, slapped violently by the wind of the storm. Jack instantly lost his balance and fell to the floor. His head knocked into a box with an impact he knew would leave a mark. Boxes began to tumble from their perch, crashing into the floor and the horse whinnied loudly. Panic was beginning to set in the animal. Of Amica, there was no sign, audible or visible. A stack of crates twice as tall as a man had fallen straight on her location.
There was a brief moment of calm before a second powerful gust rocked the ship. Jack felt himself sliding along the floor, headed straight toward another tumbling crate.
(OOC: Sorry! I'm here...just having keep-up problems!)
It was impossible. So we would just fall? understood the shaman, suddenly imagining the great device plummeting like a charm with it's line cut. That seemed unreal...surely it would sink like a wounded bird...but Amica could not argue. If Jack Farrell insists that Flying Machine would fall like a stone, then it would, and she could detect no reason he might lie. And what was more, Jack Farrell must know how Flying Machine worked more than she. He was, after all, guarrdi.
They could not take the control room by force. And in all likelihood, they would not have to. Whoever worked this room would no doubt see the need to descend at once, and they would try to do so. But Aeis will kill us before we reach ground, persisted Amica, somewhat depressed at the possibility of death. She should have been frightened as well...it was only natural to fear death...but she knew great helplessness then, and there was nothing more that could be done. All she could do would be to wish Jack well and send him along. But he sought protection...from the storm, no doubt...such that he could control Flying Machine.
"Yes, I can..." she began, but it was then that the winds struck, lurching Amica's world to one side and casting her down. The cargo around her could not hold against such a violent strike, and so it came loose and toppled towards her, following her down to the decks and into...
Darkness.
It was impossible. So we would just fall? understood the shaman, suddenly imagining the great device plummeting like a charm with it's line cut. That seemed unreal...surely it would sink like a wounded bird...but Amica could not argue. If Jack Farrell insists that Flying Machine would fall like a stone, then it would, and she could detect no reason he might lie. And what was more, Jack Farrell must know how Flying Machine worked more than she. He was, after all, guarrdi.
They could not take the control room by force. And in all likelihood, they would not have to. Whoever worked this room would no doubt see the need to descend at once, and they would try to do so. But Aeis will kill us before we reach ground, persisted Amica, somewhat depressed at the possibility of death. She should have been frightened as well...it was only natural to fear death...but she knew great helplessness then, and there was nothing more that could be done. All she could do would be to wish Jack well and send him along. But he sought protection...from the storm, no doubt...such that he could control Flying Machine.
"Yes, I can..." she began, but it was then that the winds struck, lurching Amica's world to one side and casting her down. The cargo around her could not hold against such a violent strike, and so it came loose and toppled towards her, following her down to the decks and into...
Darkness.
-
Jack Farrell
- Civus
- Posts: 296
- Joined: Sun May 22, 2005 1:05 pm
- Location: Citadel
- Contact:
ooc: tis ok, i just got a nice fever so my writing powers are ebbing
ic:
The world swam before Jack's eyes and he could feel a slick wetness on the side of his face. Encroaching darkness tugged at the edges of his vision, threatening to take him quietly into the calm depths of unconsciousness. It was a dreamless sleep, such places held no nightmares. His eyes traced the pattern of lights that swam accross his vision, such a strange thing. It was then that he saw the crate tumbling towards him.
He kicked his heels into the deck to halt his slide and scrambled like a panicked animal, clawing at the wood of the floor with torn nails to fight the pitch and yaw of the ship.
ic:
The world swam before Jack's eyes and he could feel a slick wetness on the side of his face. Encroaching darkness tugged at the edges of his vision, threatening to take him quietly into the calm depths of unconsciousness. It was a dreamless sleep, such places held no nightmares. His eyes traced the pattern of lights that swam accross his vision, such a strange thing. It was then that he saw the crate tumbling towards him.
He kicked his heels into the deck to halt his slide and scrambled like a panicked animal, clawing at the wood of the floor with torn nails to fight the pitch and yaw of the ship.
-
Guest
When the ship, and the crates finally settled, Amica was badly bruised and several cuts decorated her exposed extremeties. But, the shaman was alive and her wits were still about her. She was buried but not sealed in. Slivers of dim light penetrated her newfound cage giving her a small sense of hope that she could free herself.
~
Jack stopped just short of slamming into the crates before him. His fingers were raw and his calves and heels burned. He would feel the pain of his effort for days.
Crates and supplies lay strewn about chaotically, a victim of the drastic turn. The horse's whinnying had died down but he could hear it stomping in frustruation. Of Amica there was no sign. There was a strangeness though, that Jack could not identify at first. Yes, the room had been turned upside down. Its contents had been flipped out like some discarded child's toy. But the mess, the chaos that had resulted, was not the strange feeling.
And then it hit him, like the gentle mussing of his hair by a father he never knew, they'd changed direction. Almost completely. And, if his memory served him correctly, they were now headed west. Someone, or something, had put them on the path they'd originally intended.
~
Jack stopped just short of slamming into the crates before him. His fingers were raw and his calves and heels burned. He would feel the pain of his effort for days.
Crates and supplies lay strewn about chaotically, a victim of the drastic turn. The horse's whinnying had died down but he could hear it stomping in frustruation. Of Amica there was no sign. There was a strangeness though, that Jack could not identify at first. Yes, the room had been turned upside down. Its contents had been flipped out like some discarded child's toy. But the mess, the chaos that had resulted, was not the strange feeling.
And then it hit him, like the gentle mussing of his hair by a father he never knew, they'd changed direction. Almost completely. And, if his memory served him correctly, they were now headed west. Someone, or something, had put them on the path they'd originally intended.
-
Jack Farrell
- Civus
- Posts: 296
- Joined: Sun May 22, 2005 1:05 pm
- Location: Citadel
- Contact:
Jack exhaled, this voyage was getting weird as hell and Jack was getting... unnerved. He could feel it, the change in direction, the way he swung west now instead of holding his course to the north. Jack could feel it as surely as if the sand beneath him had shifted itself.
"AMICA?" Jack called out, struggling to his feet and trying to ignore the slivers of wood that still clung to his skin. Jack scambled over the deck to where he had been standing only moments ago. The crates were piled high and under them all was Amica. Jack cursed the nether hells, he had to be careful as he tried to dig her out, he did not want it all to collapse on her. Even so he gripped the crates with a ferocity, hauling them out and feeling the strain on his back and arms as ligaments and muscles burned and tore under the strain - he could already feel the sinews popping into unframiliar positions. He could barely feel it. The concussion of his head and the furious need he felt to protect this girl, for all of her magical power, seemed to push the pain out of his head.
"Amica! Say something! Where are yeh girl?" Jack hauled aside another crate. "Speak to me."
"AMICA?" Jack called out, struggling to his feet and trying to ignore the slivers of wood that still clung to his skin. Jack scambled over the deck to where he had been standing only moments ago. The crates were piled high and under them all was Amica. Jack cursed the nether hells, he had to be careful as he tried to dig her out, he did not want it all to collapse on her. Even so he gripped the crates with a ferocity, hauling them out and feeling the strain on his back and arms as ligaments and muscles burned and tore under the strain - he could already feel the sinews popping into unframiliar positions. He could barely feel it. The concussion of his head and the furious need he felt to protect this girl, for all of her magical power, seemed to push the pain out of his head.
"Amica! Say something! Where are yeh girl?" Jack hauled aside another crate. "Speak to me."
Last edited by Jack Farrell on Sat May 13, 2006 11:34 am, edited 1 time in total.
"I am here..." murmured Amica, her voice thick more with disappointment in herself than any real injury. Her pride had taken the worst of the injury, and now she must recover her senses...for if she were not mistaken, they were now headed west, which was a very strange blessing. How has this happened? Has T'Kil found a way where I have not? she thought, blinking and pushing up off the deck to rise up once more. "I am well, though I feel the fool, Jack Farrell."
She did feel the fool. Flying Machine was beyond her, and she could find no clarity or certainty aboard her. How badly she wanted to not be aboard, and yet...now it flew west? It had been a mistake to use Flying Machine to chase down Aeis, for she ruled the skies completely, but she had made that mistake and she must now live with the consequences. And others may perish for this mistake, she thought with some embarrasement. I have been the fool long enough.
"I am here," she waved towards Jack. "Do we not head towards the Mountains of the West? How can this be? Why do the guarrdi do this?" she asked, convinced that Jack might just know the answers.
She did feel the fool. Flying Machine was beyond her, and she could find no clarity or certainty aboard her. How badly she wanted to not be aboard, and yet...now it flew west? It had been a mistake to use Flying Machine to chase down Aeis, for she ruled the skies completely, but she had made that mistake and she must now live with the consequences. And others may perish for this mistake, she thought with some embarrasement. I have been the fool long enough.
"I am here," she waved towards Jack. "Do we not head towards the Mountains of the West? How can this be? Why do the guarrdi do this?" she asked, convinced that Jack might just know the answers.
-
Jack Farrell
- Civus
- Posts: 296
- Joined: Sun May 22, 2005 1:05 pm
- Location: Citadel
- Contact:
"Well, you have the right of it lass." Jack called, hauling aside another crate. "We are headed west at the moment, but I'd not put any stock in it just yet, squall like this could rip us about as soon as you like."
Jack glanced about, checking to see if any more cargo looked like it was about to end his life prematurely. Jack swore again, if he re-stowed this cargo he would use guidelines and nets - no more tumbling boxes and flying shards of wood. Luis was racking up a nice high list of greivances and they were not even one day into the trip yet.
Jack could see where a couple of crates carefully dislodged, could possibly let Amica crawl out if she was where he imagined. He grimmaced, one of the crates was acting as a support to the others, he would have to brace it himself whilst she clawed for freedom.
"Amica, Im gonna haul a crate away and you are gonna have to slide out sweet as you please right?" He shook the offending wooden pallet and prepared himself. His shoulders were on fire and he had no few splinters of wood in his calloused hands but adrenaline fired him and he began to drag the heavy load over the decking. He knew he had to judge it carefully, too far and he would be unable to support the boxes at all, not enough and Amica would not be able to squeeze through the gap.
"Can - you - get out - yet?" He grunted between rythmic pulls. He listened carefully, one buffet by the storm and he would have to brace the tower of crates himself or risk burying her.
MOVE
The voice slammed into his mind with such force he nearly lost his footing. That voice, a woman's voice. One he had never heard. He must have knocked his head harder than he had thought. He choked down another breath and resumed bracing the crates.
AbOvE
It wasnt a voice it was a sensation. It was an inexplicable call to rise, like emerging from a pool. Jack felt his grip loosen on the crate as he nearly retched with the force of the hallucination. He threw himself into the path of the crate to steady it and stop it from falling. This was insane.
"Amica... Amica I have to go, something is not right." Jack was feverish, his tunic clinging to his back in a neat mix of blood and sweat.
He looked at the crates again. This was going to hurt. He gripped the wood hard, feeling it bite into his roughly calloused hands. His shoulders already burned and this was going to break them. Both hands strained on the wooden frame as he picked himself up, planted both feet on the crate below and hauled. He was at the point of failure, his muscles worked hard and he forced them further. With a great creaking and the sound of grinding wood he felt the wood shift. He began to form a rythm, working the top crate loose. He heaved and felt the crate on the point of balance. Carefully he swung himself to the side as he wrenched the crate loose and let it fall to the floor.
NOW
Jack fell to the floor and rolled to his knees. He had no choice, he had to go.
"Amica, Im sorry, I have to go." Jack stumbled to his feet and staggered towards the door frame. He was dazed and confused but he had to obey this voice, he couldnt even have said why.
Jack glanced about, checking to see if any more cargo looked like it was about to end his life prematurely. Jack swore again, if he re-stowed this cargo he would use guidelines and nets - no more tumbling boxes and flying shards of wood. Luis was racking up a nice high list of greivances and they were not even one day into the trip yet.
Jack could see where a couple of crates carefully dislodged, could possibly let Amica crawl out if she was where he imagined. He grimmaced, one of the crates was acting as a support to the others, he would have to brace it himself whilst she clawed for freedom.
"Amica, Im gonna haul a crate away and you are gonna have to slide out sweet as you please right?" He shook the offending wooden pallet and prepared himself. His shoulders were on fire and he had no few splinters of wood in his calloused hands but adrenaline fired him and he began to drag the heavy load over the decking. He knew he had to judge it carefully, too far and he would be unable to support the boxes at all, not enough and Amica would not be able to squeeze through the gap.
"Can - you - get out - yet?" He grunted between rythmic pulls. He listened carefully, one buffet by the storm and he would have to brace the tower of crates himself or risk burying her.
MOVE
The voice slammed into his mind with such force he nearly lost his footing. That voice, a woman's voice. One he had never heard. He must have knocked his head harder than he had thought. He choked down another breath and resumed bracing the crates.
AbOvE
It wasnt a voice it was a sensation. It was an inexplicable call to rise, like emerging from a pool. Jack felt his grip loosen on the crate as he nearly retched with the force of the hallucination. He threw himself into the path of the crate to steady it and stop it from falling. This was insane.
"Amica... Amica I have to go, something is not right." Jack was feverish, his tunic clinging to his back in a neat mix of blood and sweat.
He looked at the crates again. This was going to hurt. He gripped the wood hard, feeling it bite into his roughly calloused hands. His shoulders already burned and this was going to break them. Both hands strained on the wooden frame as he picked himself up, planted both feet on the crate below and hauled. He was at the point of failure, his muscles worked hard and he forced them further. With a great creaking and the sound of grinding wood he felt the wood shift. He began to form a rythm, working the top crate loose. He heaved and felt the crate on the point of balance. Carefully he swung himself to the side as he wrenched the crate loose and let it fall to the floor.
NOW
Jack fell to the floor and rolled to his knees. He had no choice, he had to go.
"Amica, Im sorry, I have to go." Jack stumbled to his feet and staggered towards the door frame. He was dazed and confused but he had to obey this voice, he couldnt even have said why.
Last edited by Jack Farrell on Sun May 21, 2006 8:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.