It would be no simple thing for Amica to slip by wearing a tent. And that was indeed how it felt, a great tent bunched up at her waist and spreading out as if she would provide shelter for a small family...and with her medicine bag and her knife hanging beneath her skirt, it felt not unlike a small family lived beneath, swinging into her thighs in a most uncomfortable way. It was a very stupid way to dress, and while she had long since come to terms with it's advantages...she did present herself far better in the strange garment...it gave her no confidence whatsoever in her abilities to remain unnoticed.
At least it is not a great, fiery color, she grimaced to herself, peeking out at the populated deck through the doorway beyond. She might indeed pass it, but she longed for her shaman's cloak now more than ever. It's black color would no doubt become as the shadows themselves, making her task far, far easier. Still, there was nothing to be done for it now. She would try to slip past the doorway and work her way deeper into Flying Machine, for she must explore the vessel if she were to find a way to sabotage it to her will.
Stealing enough courage for the task, Amica tossed her long hair forward to hide her face from any betraying glint of her eyes or her face before she stepped lightly past the doorway, pausing at the other side to await her apprehension if she were noticed. Strangely, she felt very little anxiety at her movements as she had another plan entirely if she would indeed find herself presented before the crew. After all, she would only present herself voluntarily before too much longer, anyway. But I have things I must learn first, she thought, turning her body towards the doorway once she were past to insure she met any attention face-to-face. And perhaps spells to cast.
Warehouse District: The Scillus - 24 MT, Amica
Moderator: Mods
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Guest
Stealing her courage, Amica made it successfully by the open door. Voices rang slightly louder as she passed but with a few swift steps and the swish of her skirts she was now on the other side of the door. She was hidden from view for the moment, able to catch her breath. Before her was a second ramp downward into what would most likely be the biggest cargo hold of the ship.
Amica, though, turned around in anticipation that she might have been seen crossing the threshhold of the door to the crew's quarters. Consciously, she reached and felt the familiar pull of her power as she prepared herself for a conflict. Only three heartbeats passed before Amica felt as if she was secure but it felt like an eternity. Though prepared for a direct confrontation, she was vulnerable. The ramps up and down were technically escape routes, but to where? Once the alarm was raised, few places on the ship would be safe.
She waited. No voice rang in alarm or surprise and she heard no sound of rushing boots. She was safe for now.
Amica, though, turned around in anticipation that she might have been seen crossing the threshhold of the door to the crew's quarters. Consciously, she reached and felt the familiar pull of her power as she prepared herself for a conflict. Only three heartbeats passed before Amica felt as if she was secure but it felt like an eternity. Though prepared for a direct confrontation, she was vulnerable. The ramps up and down were technically escape routes, but to where? Once the alarm was raised, few places on the ship would be safe.
She waited. No voice rang in alarm or surprise and she heard no sound of rushing boots. She was safe for now.
One moment slipped into the next, and Amica paused for all of them awaiting the signs that her passage had been noticed. It had not, and this was something of a relief to her. Turning, she gazed down the ramp to the lower deck and followed this, her fists clenched over her skirts to keep the flowing hem away from her treading feet...a lesson she had already learned wearing the silly garment, and one she had learned very, very well.
Pausing at the bottom of the ramp, Amica peeked out carefully to inspect this new level, curious at the source of the unusual power she had felt when Flying Machine first took to the air. She could not tell where it had been...it had come upon her unaware, and whatever she sensed could have been two paces or two hundred for all she knew...but she suspected that, once she found the source of such power, she might recognize it for what it was. It would not be a great mandala of power such as she might find among the People, but it would be strangely similar...a magic of great cunning and construction that it could be nothing else.
Cautious for those that might detect her, she took in as much of this lower level as she might, staying clear of what lights she might find as she gathered her bearings before she continued.
Pausing at the bottom of the ramp, Amica peeked out carefully to inspect this new level, curious at the source of the unusual power she had felt when Flying Machine first took to the air. She could not tell where it had been...it had come upon her unaware, and whatever she sensed could have been two paces or two hundred for all she knew...but she suspected that, once she found the source of such power, she might recognize it for what it was. It would not be a great mandala of power such as she might find among the People, but it would be strangely similar...a magic of great cunning and construction that it could be nothing else.
Cautious for those that might detect her, she took in as much of this lower level as she might, staying clear of what lights she might find as she gathered her bearings before she continued.
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Guest
Descending into the fourth level of the ship, if she counted the main deck, Amica found the ship’s main cargo hold. She was on the aft end of the ship and she could easily determine the hold went the length of the ship. Near here were boxes and crates of all sorts and stacked almost to the ceiling. The order of stacks created odd, angular paths into the maze of cargo before her.
She did not, though, seem to see or sense the source of the magical power. Logically, that left only a few locations where it might be, most of them near the bow of the ship. Her travels so far had shown her the aft section of three decks and none had an area that was not already occupied by rooms, crew or cargo.
Amica, however, did sense something she had not expected. She smelled an animal. At first, it was not familiar but then, she recognized it. It was the smell of a horse. The young shaman could see its source but knew it to be deeper within the maze of boxes and crates.
She did not, though, seem to see or sense the source of the magical power. Logically, that left only a few locations where it might be, most of them near the bow of the ship. Her travels so far had shown her the aft section of three decks and none had an area that was not already occupied by rooms, crew or cargo.
Amica, however, did sense something she had not expected. She smelled an animal. At first, it was not familiar but then, she recognized it. It was the smell of a horse. The young shaman could see its source but knew it to be deeper within the maze of boxes and crates.
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Guest
OOC: Tying in Maverick from the other thread. Assuming you move forward Amica (without tripping), you can witness this scene.
IC:
T'kil slipped back into his hiding place, melting into shadows that seemed absent before. Watching the shaman disappear, Maverick had to wonder if his previous camouflage attempt had been somewhat half-hearted. T'kil was silent, swift and gone before Maverick had taken his next breath. A flicker later and the pair would have been face to face with the quartermaster Luis.
Luis was a swarthy fellow with long, handlebar type moustaches and a spiteful look in his eyes. He had the countenance of a cutthroat and the snarl of a pirate, but the man was surprisingly organized and rarely missed a detail. Luis enjoyed his position of authority. Not quite the top of the food chain, he was spared the most crucial decisions. But, he was still high enough to push everyone else around. That was the fun part of his job. With a swagger, he entered the room and stared at Maverick grooming the horse.
"Eh," said the quartermaster to Maverick, raising his eyebrow and looking around the room. "How come you're still down here if the wonder-boy's all done?"
Luis stepped into the cleared area and began surveying the freight, mentally checking the register in his head. His previous question seemed unimportant as he absorbed the contents of the hold making his way up and down stacks of boxes. More than once he veered closed to where Maverick assumed T'kil was hiding but, to the young merchant's relief, he always turned before delving too deep.
Maverick was left to continue grooming the horse while Luis did his inventory and, for a moment, Maverick felt that their clandestine conversation may have stayed hidden. However, his heart leapt when Luis stopped suddenly and squatted on the floor near T'kil's circle of sand. He looked up at Maverick.
"Can you explain this Delora?"
IC:
T'kil slipped back into his hiding place, melting into shadows that seemed absent before. Watching the shaman disappear, Maverick had to wonder if his previous camouflage attempt had been somewhat half-hearted. T'kil was silent, swift and gone before Maverick had taken his next breath. A flicker later and the pair would have been face to face with the quartermaster Luis.
Luis was a swarthy fellow with long, handlebar type moustaches and a spiteful look in his eyes. He had the countenance of a cutthroat and the snarl of a pirate, but the man was surprisingly organized and rarely missed a detail. Luis enjoyed his position of authority. Not quite the top of the food chain, he was spared the most crucial decisions. But, he was still high enough to push everyone else around. That was the fun part of his job. With a swagger, he entered the room and stared at Maverick grooming the horse.
"Eh," said the quartermaster to Maverick, raising his eyebrow and looking around the room. "How come you're still down here if the wonder-boy's all done?"
Luis stepped into the cleared area and began surveying the freight, mentally checking the register in his head. His previous question seemed unimportant as he absorbed the contents of the hold making his way up and down stacks of boxes. More than once he veered closed to where Maverick assumed T'kil was hiding but, to the young merchant's relief, he always turned before delving too deep.
Maverick was left to continue grooming the horse while Luis did his inventory and, for a moment, Maverick felt that their clandestine conversation may have stayed hidden. However, his heart leapt when Luis stopped suddenly and squatted on the floor near T'kil's circle of sand. He looked up at Maverick.
"Can you explain this Delora?"
From a fair distance aft of the pair, Amica advanced slowly and peered around the stacks of kegs and crates and through the dim darkness to spy the pair near the horse...and the circle of sand upon the wooden deck below. She could explain the circle of sand...she knew it at once...and upon seeing it she knew a great many things, all of which served to astonish and amaze her. Only a shaman would create such a design...and it had not been her. That could only mean that T'Kil had managed to spirit himself aboard Flying Machine. The Shaman of Sabata has come. And he will be hidden here, among all that Flying Machine carries, she thought, her heart hammering away with the realization of it. Suddenly her chances of capturing Flying Machine and using it to her advantage increased greatly.
The guarrdi standing over the circle of sand had not yet noticed her, and one was challenging the other over the construction. The circle would lead them to locating T'Kil, and this was quite dangerous, both to T'Kil's life as well as Amica's plans. She did not know if either of these wet landers knew of T'Kil as yet...neither of them is Jack Farrell...and so she would give them something new to believe, an explanation that would keep T'Kil safe for now. After all, Amica sought to be noticed eventually, and while she might have chosen a more appropriate time to do so...she had not yet constructed her destructive runes to control Flying Machine...she had to act to help out her mentor. After all, T'Kil could construct runes to threaten Flying Machine as easily as she.
"Art circle that Gens Harinae build for ritual, guarrdi," she said cooly, stepping forward to present herself before both men. Indeed, it was...but Amica could not see the extent to which T'Kil had constructed his circle before he had been interrupted. As she moved forward, she inspected the circle to learn what it's use might have been. She also glanced over both men quickly, trying to decide which of them, if either, might have been T'Kil's ally. "You wilt see more of these ere our voyage completes," she added, stepping forward towards the men with her own medicine bag in hand. She would assume ownership of T'Kil's hermetic circle quickly and begin adding to it, as if it had been hers all along...a proper way for her to cover T'Kil's tracks.
The guarrdi standing over the circle of sand had not yet noticed her, and one was challenging the other over the construction. The circle would lead them to locating T'Kil, and this was quite dangerous, both to T'Kil's life as well as Amica's plans. She did not know if either of these wet landers knew of T'Kil as yet...neither of them is Jack Farrell...and so she would give them something new to believe, an explanation that would keep T'Kil safe for now. After all, Amica sought to be noticed eventually, and while she might have chosen a more appropriate time to do so...she had not yet constructed her destructive runes to control Flying Machine...she had to act to help out her mentor. After all, T'Kil could construct runes to threaten Flying Machine as easily as she.
"Art circle that Gens Harinae build for ritual, guarrdi," she said cooly, stepping forward to present herself before both men. Indeed, it was...but Amica could not see the extent to which T'Kil had constructed his circle before he had been interrupted. As she moved forward, she inspected the circle to learn what it's use might have been. She also glanced over both men quickly, trying to decide which of them, if either, might have been T'Kil's ally. "You wilt see more of these ere our voyage completes," she added, stepping forward towards the men with her own medicine bag in hand. She would assume ownership of T'Kil's hermetic circle quickly and begin adding to it, as if it had been hers all along...a proper way for her to cover T'Kil's tracks.
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Guest
Maverick muttered something intelligable as he kept grooming the horse, hoping Luis would not pry. Privately he thought the man was probably just eager to assert his authority, looking about the place as if he owned it. Quartermasters were often like that and Maverick knew better than to provoke the man.
Then Luis found the circle of sand. Maverick cursed under his breath but kept the words in. I should have kicked it quickly, dispersed it. Stupid superstition that made me afraid to touch it. Slowly he turned away from the horse, walking casually over with a little swagger not unlike the quartermaster. "The Delora, sir?" he repeated. His mind worked furiously. I need to claim it as my own. What if he demands I touch it? Or finish it? What if he wants to know what it is for?
Before he could open his mouth however, a woman with the exotic accent of the people of the Sand stepped forward out of nothingness. She had the muscled lithe body with darkened skin that was so common to her people. The lovely dress, not unlike what a lady of the Mouth would wear, was strange on her and she didn't move entirely comfortable with it. Yet with perfect logic she took over the circle of sand.
"There you are lady Amica," Maverick exclaimed, guessing this could only be the shamans wife "I wonder where you had gone. Will ya be long doing that circle. The horse gets nervous from having all these strangers around. I can't leave him like this."
Then Luis found the circle of sand. Maverick cursed under his breath but kept the words in. I should have kicked it quickly, dispersed it. Stupid superstition that made me afraid to touch it. Slowly he turned away from the horse, walking casually over with a little swagger not unlike the quartermaster. "The Delora, sir?" he repeated. His mind worked furiously. I need to claim it as my own. What if he demands I touch it? Or finish it? What if he wants to know what it is for?
Before he could open his mouth however, a woman with the exotic accent of the people of the Sand stepped forward out of nothingness. She had the muscled lithe body with darkened skin that was so common to her people. The lovely dress, not unlike what a lady of the Mouth would wear, was strange on her and she didn't move entirely comfortable with it. Yet with perfect logic she took over the circle of sand.
"There you are lady Amica," Maverick exclaimed, guessing this could only be the shamans wife "I wonder where you had gone. Will ya be long doing that circle. The horse gets nervous from having all these strangers around. I can't leave him like this."
Last edited by Guest on Sun Feb 19, 2006 1:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Guest
Luis frowned deeply at the site of Amica. In an instant, Maverick could see that Luis had not known Amica was aboard. Her presence there was completely surprising to him.
"Who invited a wench aboard this ship?" gasped Luis, standing up swiftly and backing toward the ramp. He quickly recovered and his face became a mask of rage.
"Twist the One's own cock, what is going on!?!" He turned toward Maverick and his eyes narrowed. "There better be a damn good answer, Maverick."
"Who invited a wench aboard this ship?" gasped Luis, standing up swiftly and backing toward the ramp. He quickly recovered and his face became a mask of rage.
"Twist the One's own cock, what is going on!?!" He turned toward Maverick and his eyes narrowed. "There better be a damn good answer, Maverick."
Last edited by Guest on Wed Feb 15, 2006 12:38 am, edited 1 time in total.
It would have been strange for Amica to ignore the man's great surprise. Hidden behind his surprise and his sudden accusations against the Quick Thinker...the other guarrdi had accepted her ruse without any hesitation, she noted...was a note of fear that perplexed her. Why does he fear me so? she pondered, considering Sky Marshal's earlier hesitations to reveal her to any of Flying Machine's crew. Are they so frightened as this?
Amica was almost amused to the point of a smile. Among her people, there was little distinction between a grown man and a grown woman. While the People held some distinctions between them...it would have been foolish to ignore those distinctions...both men and women could be found in all the tribes, including the warriors of tribus retilus. All the People walked, lived, and died together, and so it would not have been so very great to find a woman among such a crew if they were gens harinae. This man seemed to the point of anger as if he had seen his own ghost, and it only served to improve Amica's belief that she might indeed manage to gain some power over the guarrdi aboard Flying Machine.
For a moment, she was torn in how to respond. The fleeing man might bring difficulty to her if his fears would be shared by his brothers above, and so it would be wiser that she mollify him directly such that he remained. A plan formed in her mind, a plan that required her to be somewhat wicked...but one in which she might gain control of Flying Machine with some haste. Attempting another of the rather difficult curtsies that were so often to be seen among the wet landers, Amica cast her eyes down and murmured very quietly. "Art guide, guarrdi. Art guide that you will not become lost," she offered. "Art Amica Tempestatis..." Shaman of the People "...guest of...Sky Marshal..."
Amica was almost amused to the point of a smile. Among her people, there was little distinction between a grown man and a grown woman. While the People held some distinctions between them...it would have been foolish to ignore those distinctions...both men and women could be found in all the tribes, including the warriors of tribus retilus. All the People walked, lived, and died together, and so it would not have been so very great to find a woman among such a crew if they were gens harinae. This man seemed to the point of anger as if he had seen his own ghost, and it only served to improve Amica's belief that she might indeed manage to gain some power over the guarrdi aboard Flying Machine.
For a moment, she was torn in how to respond. The fleeing man might bring difficulty to her if his fears would be shared by his brothers above, and so it would be wiser that she mollify him directly such that he remained. A plan formed in her mind, a plan that required her to be somewhat wicked...but one in which she might gain control of Flying Machine with some haste. Attempting another of the rather difficult curtsies that were so often to be seen among the wet landers, Amica cast her eyes down and murmured very quietly. "Art guide, guarrdi. Art guide that you will not become lost," she offered. "Art Amica Tempestatis..." Shaman of the People "...guest of...Sky Marshal..."
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Guest
Luis turned his gaze from Maverick to Amica. She could see him digesting her words. Cleverness and suspicion shown in his eyes. The ship's quartermaster would be a hard one to confuse.
"The guest of the Sky Marshal?" Luis asked, taking a step away from the pair. His sudden flare of temper was replaced by the easy confidence of a man who enjoyed conflict.
"I wasn't aware that we'd added any natives to our crew, especially women." He snarled slightly at the last word and took another step backwards. Luis was now poised at the entrance to the system of ramps that led up to the next level.
"But," he said, looking the young shaman up and down unashamedly, "I can see some logic behind the Marshal's reasoning. Still, neither of you have answered my question. Tell me what's going on here, because even if you have a good reason for being in my hold, I wasn't told about it and therefore, you owe me an eplanation."
"The guest of the Sky Marshal?" Luis asked, taking a step away from the pair. His sudden flare of temper was replaced by the easy confidence of a man who enjoyed conflict.
"I wasn't aware that we'd added any natives to our crew, especially women." He snarled slightly at the last word and took another step backwards. Luis was now poised at the entrance to the system of ramps that led up to the next level.
"But," he said, looking the young shaman up and down unashamedly, "I can see some logic behind the Marshal's reasoning. Still, neither of you have answered my question. Tell me what's going on here, because even if you have a good reason for being in my hold, I wasn't told about it and therefore, you owe me an eplanation."
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Jack Farrell
- Civus
- Posts: 296
- Joined: Sun May 22, 2005 1:05 pm
- Location: Citadel
- Contact:
Jack heard Luis before he saw him. At least the buffoon had not found T'kil, who Jack supposed might have more than a little to do with the Storm above. But then, Jack was a suspicious man.
Jack let his feet fall heavy on the planks behind Luis, alerting him to his presence.
"Sir, matters aquire your attention on deck sir. Seems there is Storm off the port bow, nasty one by the looks of it. I need to make sure the horse is secure before she hits us. I was not banking on high winds when I tended the beast last." Jack stood crisply to attention, emulating the practice of the soldiers and the Cortierre both.
It took all he had not to stare at Amica, he had been ready to turn the ship over looking for her, and here she was plain as day. Jack was not sure that the wetlander garb befitted her, she seemed more at home in the robes of her people. He drew his eyes to settle at a point just past Luis's right shoulder and stared impassively. If Luis would just bugger off then things would go smoothly, but Jack had a niggling feeling that the old pirate would not be so obliging.
"...you owe me an explanation."
Jack let his feet fall heavy on the planks behind Luis, alerting him to his presence.
"Sir, matters aquire your attention on deck sir. Seems there is Storm off the port bow, nasty one by the looks of it. I need to make sure the horse is secure before she hits us. I was not banking on high winds when I tended the beast last." Jack stood crisply to attention, emulating the practice of the soldiers and the Cortierre both.
It took all he had not to stare at Amica, he had been ready to turn the ship over looking for her, and here she was plain as day. Jack was not sure that the wetlander garb befitted her, she seemed more at home in the robes of her people. He drew his eyes to settle at a point just past Luis's right shoulder and stared impassively. If Luis would just bugger off then things would go smoothly, but Jack had a niggling feeling that the old pirate would not be so obliging.
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Guest
Superstition. It was not uncommon in sailors, and Maverick was not unfamiliar with it, seeing it now so clear again in Luis who was backing up upon confrontation with a possible jinx on the journey that women on board of a ship were supposed to be. Indeed, his family originating from the Mouth meant he had been raised on a strict division of gender that he knew this shaman's wife might find insulting. Maverick had enough familiarity with the People of the Sand to know they did not protect their womenfolk in the same way. Maverick was not sure he agreed on that, for childhood habits are difficult to break, but he would not discount Amica's talents for he was no fool either.
"Sir," he exclaimed, "I was not made privy to the Sky Marshals reasons, sir. I'm just a lowly sailor sir. She came with the horse, and wanted to do a protection circle. I thought under the circumstances it wouldn't hurt to ah.. keep her occupied so she was not underfoot of the crew during departure." He gave Luis a saucy wink, suggesting he might have had other thoughts than merely keeping Amica from standing in the way. There was only one way to keep a woman properly occupied after all. She was a shapely woman and surely Luis was no stranger to lust.
Thank the One that Jack came down with a diversion. He wasn't sure that Luis would be satisfied with his meager excuse. He grinned with a devilish glint in his eyes at Amica hoping she would forgive him for his remarks, and more importantly that her HUSBAND would. He was trying to save her pretty ass after all.
"Sir," he exclaimed, "I was not made privy to the Sky Marshals reasons, sir. I'm just a lowly sailor sir. She came with the horse, and wanted to do a protection circle. I thought under the circumstances it wouldn't hurt to ah.. keep her occupied so she was not underfoot of the crew during departure." He gave Luis a saucy wink, suggesting he might have had other thoughts than merely keeping Amica from standing in the way. There was only one way to keep a woman properly occupied after all. She was a shapely woman and surely Luis was no stranger to lust.
Thank the One that Jack came down with a diversion. He wasn't sure that Luis would be satisfied with his meager excuse. He grinned with a devilish glint in his eyes at Amica hoping she would forgive him for his remarks, and more importantly that her HUSBAND would. He was trying to save her pretty ass after all.
Last edited by Guest on Sun Feb 19, 2006 2:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Given that she was considered a grown woman in the eyes of her People, Amica would never for a moment have missed Maverick's salacious innuendo...and if she had noticed it, she would not have been at all angry or disappointed. Indeed, it seemed a most fitting diversion, and while she claimed no great skill at manipulating people, she would have been wise enough to appear demure and embarrassed at this new ally's tactics. After all, was this not why she had escaped Sky Captain's chambers? She would have the crew of Flying Machine see her, and she could only hope that some of them would covet her. There was much to be gained by this tactic, and if the Shaman were to be truthful with herself, she would enjoy such attentions.
But her attention had wandered the moment Jack Farrell entered the room. She knew Jack Farrell, though not well...and she had expressed her need to him and had, in a fashion, utilized his assistance to secure her way aboard Flying Machine. She had not been entirely successful with her infiltration of the vessel, but at the very least she had given Sky Marshal the means to secret her away while the sum of the crew were busy elsewhere.
It was not Jack Farrell's appearance that so startled her, but his news, words meant not for Amica's ears but for this...frightened man's ears. A storm. And how well fares Flying Machine against a Storm of the Turri? pondered Amica, a feeling of dread building in her breast. Storms in the desert always came like a great wall of black sand, charging in like doom itself and striking with savage ferocity, the grains tearing into cloth and rope, the hot, dry air melting tar and wax and splintering wood and crumbling paper. It would blow Flying Machine about, and it would deliver great harm to it...as well as her crew. Certainly, a desert storm would be a great danger to Flying Machine...and certainly, her crew would know this.
They would not know that the storm was a weapon.
Has Aeis, Dragon of Wind, found me? thought Amica, her heart racing as she involuntarily reached up to finger the little wooden amulet hanging around her neck. The talisman still throbbed and quivered unnoticeably, luring her towards the Peshawgo...and it was the only way the Shaman could imagine that her nemesis could locate her at first. If indeed Aeis had located her, then it would be no great trick of hers to send forth the storm. And she would not hesitate to do this. After all, there was no place in the open air in which Flying Machine could hide.
Is this not well? she pondered. The storm will consume their efforts, and I will use this time to prepare Flying Machine and bend her to my will. But if I do this, many of the guarrdi might die, carried away in its winds, she thought, her eyes now moving from Jack to Luis to Maverick and then back to Jack. Can there be a choice? If I protect Flying Machine, will not Aeis the Dragon of Wind see me? If it is but an ordinary turri, then my magic will serve only to draw her attention and seal our doom. And if she already sees me here, then our doom is already sealed.
Her grisly decision made, Amica would not attempt to protect Flying Machine, instead leaving it and the gallant crew to do as they must. At least they would not know her for the shaman she was for a little while longer, and she would be at leisure to properly scribe the runes and spells she must to gain control of the vessel. It was a sickening decision for Amica to make, but it was one her hardened heart made all too easily. Standing to one side, she offered no comment at all as she watched the three men, though she did inspect the first man...Quick Thinker...more closely. After all, his response and his presence with the mandala circle upon the floor marked him an ally like Jack Farrell, and so she would do well to learn his name.
But her attention had wandered the moment Jack Farrell entered the room. She knew Jack Farrell, though not well...and she had expressed her need to him and had, in a fashion, utilized his assistance to secure her way aboard Flying Machine. She had not been entirely successful with her infiltration of the vessel, but at the very least she had given Sky Marshal the means to secret her away while the sum of the crew were busy elsewhere.
It was not Jack Farrell's appearance that so startled her, but his news, words meant not for Amica's ears but for this...frightened man's ears. A storm. And how well fares Flying Machine against a Storm of the Turri? pondered Amica, a feeling of dread building in her breast. Storms in the desert always came like a great wall of black sand, charging in like doom itself and striking with savage ferocity, the grains tearing into cloth and rope, the hot, dry air melting tar and wax and splintering wood and crumbling paper. It would blow Flying Machine about, and it would deliver great harm to it...as well as her crew. Certainly, a desert storm would be a great danger to Flying Machine...and certainly, her crew would know this.
They would not know that the storm was a weapon.
Has Aeis, Dragon of Wind, found me? thought Amica, her heart racing as she involuntarily reached up to finger the little wooden amulet hanging around her neck. The talisman still throbbed and quivered unnoticeably, luring her towards the Peshawgo...and it was the only way the Shaman could imagine that her nemesis could locate her at first. If indeed Aeis had located her, then it would be no great trick of hers to send forth the storm. And she would not hesitate to do this. After all, there was no place in the open air in which Flying Machine could hide.
Is this not well? she pondered. The storm will consume their efforts, and I will use this time to prepare Flying Machine and bend her to my will. But if I do this, many of the guarrdi might die, carried away in its winds, she thought, her eyes now moving from Jack to Luis to Maverick and then back to Jack. Can there be a choice? If I protect Flying Machine, will not Aeis the Dragon of Wind see me? If it is but an ordinary turri, then my magic will serve only to draw her attention and seal our doom. And if she already sees me here, then our doom is already sealed.
Her grisly decision made, Amica would not attempt to protect Flying Machine, instead leaving it and the gallant crew to do as they must. At least they would not know her for the shaman she was for a little while longer, and she would be at leisure to properly scribe the runes and spells she must to gain control of the vessel. It was a sickening decision for Amica to make, but it was one her hardened heart made all too easily. Standing to one side, she offered no comment at all as she watched the three men, though she did inspect the first man...Quick Thinker...more closely. After all, his response and his presence with the mandala circle upon the floor marked him an ally like Jack Farrell, and so she would do well to learn his name.
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Guest
Maverick grinned at Amica as he caught her look, adding that little devilish glint that some women loved and others hated so much it sent them right up the roof. He wondered what kind of woman this shapely foreigner was. She sure looked as if she had a lot of guts. His eyes caressed her form and for but a moment he forgot all about her husband in the heap of stuff next to him. When he remembered about the shaman it was all he could do not to look pointedly in that direction. Luis must never suspect anything.
Jack's words didn't mean much to Maverick. He knew about desert storm and their unpleasantness, the sheer sensation of sand getting everywhere, in all crevices of the body, still there days after. He did not know however, how an airship had covered for this eventuality and he assumed that they had at least considered the possibility.
Jack's words didn't mean much to Maverick. He knew about desert storm and their unpleasantness, the sheer sensation of sand getting everywhere, in all crevices of the body, still there days after. He did not know however, how an airship had covered for this eventuality and he assumed that they had at least considered the possibility.
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Guest
Luis started at Jack's words.
"You're back. . . conveniently," he growled, realizing that he was now outnumbered three to one. Dark eyes smoldering, he swept his gaze from Maverick to Amica and then to Jack. The trio could see him weighing his options, whatever they might be to man like Luis. The air seemed to grow thick with tension while they waited for him to act.
After what seemed like a full burn of his angry gaze, Luis turned slowly and stalked toward the exit.
"Well," he said in a tone that dripped with acid, "if you thought takeoff was bad, you'll want to hang on to your knickers boys. You too, guide..
"Clean up the sand before I get back and no more mystic dirt piles," he ordered. "As if we didn't have enough on board this damn ship, now you're purposely putting it on the floor." He shook his head in disgust.
He walked swiftly past Jack and up the ramp leaving the trio alone. None was convinced that Luis completely bought their story.
"You're back. . . conveniently," he growled, realizing that he was now outnumbered three to one. Dark eyes smoldering, he swept his gaze from Maverick to Amica and then to Jack. The trio could see him weighing his options, whatever they might be to man like Luis. The air seemed to grow thick with tension while they waited for him to act.
After what seemed like a full burn of his angry gaze, Luis turned slowly and stalked toward the exit.
"Well," he said in a tone that dripped with acid, "if you thought takeoff was bad, you'll want to hang on to your knickers boys. You too, guide..
"Clean up the sand before I get back and no more mystic dirt piles," he ordered. "As if we didn't have enough on board this damn ship, now you're purposely putting it on the floor." He shook his head in disgust.
He walked swiftly past Jack and up the ramp leaving the trio alone. None was convinced that Luis completely bought their story.
Never did Amica know how uncertain and anxious the presence of Fearful Man left her, but when he turned to withdraw up to the levels above, she could feel relief wash over her. Indeed, he could give her to know great difficulty, though she knew not how. Amica did not know how she would accomplish her misdirection of Flying Machine, and so she knew no confidence just now anyway. It was Fearful Man's parting words that first gave her a glimmer of an idea.
Well, if you thought takeoff was bad, you'll want to hang on to your knickers boys. You too, guide...
This is my place, thought Amica, her head angling to one side slightly as she considered upon his words. Guide. It would be no great thing to misguide if I were called upon, she guessed, a plan forming in her mind. The storm would give the guarrdi to see nothing, and so they would have to navigate in some other fashion, no doubt using their magic compass. If she could give Compass to show them only lies, then she could control Flying Machine. It is not so great a thing, she thought, a slight smile daring to haunt her face. But to capture this storm and use it to blind them would not be so simple...
Remembering herself, Amica finally managed a smile for Jack Farrell. "I see you, Jack Farrell," she greeted, her hands reaching down to pull up her skirts in a fashion that might be wholly inappropriate for a more civilized woman. In truth, she sought to withdraw her knife, the lengthy weapon hanging down the side of her hip beneath the skirt of her highly impractical dress. As she did, she turned her eyes upon Maverick. "I am called Amica Tempestatis," she offered, resisting the urge to ask about her mentor, T'Kil.
In the back of her mind, Amica already planned the Great Chant she would summon a storm to linger around Flying Machine and deliver it into her power. I will build it as the djinni. A circle of great winds to surround Flying Machine and carry in it sands it will steal from this storm. We will know only darkness and storm so long as the spell lives, and I will protect the spell with great misdirections...
Well, if you thought takeoff was bad, you'll want to hang on to your knickers boys. You too, guide...
This is my place, thought Amica, her head angling to one side slightly as she considered upon his words. Guide. It would be no great thing to misguide if I were called upon, she guessed, a plan forming in her mind. The storm would give the guarrdi to see nothing, and so they would have to navigate in some other fashion, no doubt using their magic compass. If she could give Compass to show them only lies, then she could control Flying Machine. It is not so great a thing, she thought, a slight smile daring to haunt her face. But to capture this storm and use it to blind them would not be so simple...
Remembering herself, Amica finally managed a smile for Jack Farrell. "I see you, Jack Farrell," she greeted, her hands reaching down to pull up her skirts in a fashion that might be wholly inappropriate for a more civilized woman. In truth, she sought to withdraw her knife, the lengthy weapon hanging down the side of her hip beneath the skirt of her highly impractical dress. As she did, she turned her eyes upon Maverick. "I am called Amica Tempestatis," she offered, resisting the urge to ask about her mentor, T'Kil.
In the back of her mind, Amica already planned the Great Chant she would summon a storm to linger around Flying Machine and deliver it into her power. I will build it as the djinni. A circle of great winds to surround Flying Machine and carry in it sands it will steal from this storm. We will know only darkness and storm so long as the spell lives, and I will protect the spell with great misdirections...
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Jack Farrell
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Jack remained impassive until he heard Luis's footsteps carry him beyond what he considered to be ear-shot. Jack 's heart was pounding, Luis had found Amica. The fact that he had not walked in on bloody hell itself was probably due to some quick words that had allayed his suspicions for now, but how they had persuaded him not to kick up an almighty rucuss Jack could not even guess.
"So" Jack said, walking inside the hold and over to the horse. "You made it on safely?" Jack soothed the animal and checked the netting around him.
The myriad of questions he had about Amica could wait. Why was she in a dress? Why was she not hidden with T'kil? Where was T'kil? why was nothing in life ever simple?
"Also, Mav, you were right - 'parently there is a Cortierre on the ship." Jack turned to face the other two in the hold, awaiting a response.
"So" Jack said, walking inside the hold and over to the horse. "You made it on safely?" Jack soothed the animal and checked the netting around him.
The myriad of questions he had about Amica could wait. Why was she in a dress? Why was she not hidden with T'kil? Where was T'kil? why was nothing in life ever simple?
"Also, Mav, you were right - 'parently there is a Cortierre on the ship." Jack turned to face the other two in the hold, awaiting a response.
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Guest
"Condotierre," Maverick corrected Jack absentmindedly. His eyes were focused upon the naked legs that Amica had revealed so casually, showing how unladylike she really was, but in a way that made him catch his breath. He shook off the temporary distraction, chagerined with himself. No gentleman of the Mouth, and despite his TI contacts he considered himself thus, oogled the wife of another, unless she sollicitated it herself. Amica however, was in all likelihood completely unware of the message she was sending and some inner voice of Maverick called to mind his earliest training, overriding the rougher urges that rogues learn. Maverick hated himself because of his gentlemanlike urges, yet he could not resist.
"I see you, madam Amica," he greeted the native girl, his hand touching his heart for a second in familiar greeting, aware of the double message his deep voice send "My name is Delora... Maverick Delora, of the Mouth's Delora family. I've lived in the Sands most of my life. Yet, this is the first time I've been surrounded by shamans. One can ask if this is a blessing or a curse."
He turned to include Jack in his gaze, concluding "This storm.. it will hit the airship hard."
"I see you, madam Amica," he greeted the native girl, his hand touching his heart for a second in familiar greeting, aware of the double message his deep voice send "My name is Delora... Maverick Delora, of the Mouth's Delora family. I've lived in the Sands most of my life. Yet, this is the first time I've been surrounded by shamans. One can ask if this is a blessing or a curse."
He turned to include Jack in his gaze, concluding "This storm.. it will hit the airship hard."
Casually, Quick Thinker revealed his name...and that he knew Amica was tribus negri...and that T'Kil must be, as she had suspected, on Flying Machine. This was a mixed blessing to her, for while she could always use T'Kil's assistance in her task, it seemed irresponsible for her to take him to his death. Strangely, she did not feel so very protective of anyone else...she would place Flying Machine and all aboard her in great peril without hesitation to assist in her cause...but to risk T'Kil seemed horrifying to her. But he is here, and it will be well, she decided, making the best of a situation that seemed suddenly too risky.
Thinking back quickly, Amica pondered just how much she had told Jack Farrell and whether he would understand why she would place upon Flying Machine such a spell, for she would have it that the coming sandstorm would never end as far as the guarrdi aboard would understand. If he were to seek to thwart her, he could indeed, for it would take time and peace for her to construct such a complex design...but she could only just remember what he knew, and whether she could share her intentions with him...with either man...freely. She decided to be cautious instead, offering only a few cryptic comments about what to expect.
"I...see you, Maverick Delora. Be at ease that I have come safely," she replied to Jack's question. "The storm will last for many days, but you must not fear it," she said, still uncertain whether or not it was sent by Aeis, the Dragon of Wind. If it had, there would indeed be reason to fear...but it would be hopeless to do so. "I must go further below that I might...prepare Flying Machine for our journey. Will you speak to me of T'Kil?"
Thinking back quickly, Amica pondered just how much she had told Jack Farrell and whether he would understand why she would place upon Flying Machine such a spell, for she would have it that the coming sandstorm would never end as far as the guarrdi aboard would understand. If he were to seek to thwart her, he could indeed, for it would take time and peace for her to construct such a complex design...but she could only just remember what he knew, and whether she could share her intentions with him...with either man...freely. She decided to be cautious instead, offering only a few cryptic comments about what to expect.
"I...see you, Maverick Delora. Be at ease that I have come safely," she replied to Jack's question. "The storm will last for many days, but you must not fear it," she said, still uncertain whether or not it was sent by Aeis, the Dragon of Wind. If it had, there would indeed be reason to fear...but it would be hopeless to do so. "I must go further below that I might...prepare Flying Machine for our journey. Will you speak to me of T'Kil?"
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Jack Farrell
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Jack felt himself relax a little. That Amica was not disturbed by the sandstorm was a good thing. In Amun Rah, the storms could swallow ships such as this one, Amica must have some shamanistic protection in mind for the storm. Jack, happy that he had consoled the situation let a smile creep onto his face.
"I think he's around here somewhere. He did... something... - made him blend into the shadows on the walls. Im not too sure really." Jack felt a little embarrassed, he was way out of his depth. "Your husband seemed keen to find you, he could be checking the ship himself." Jack noticed for the first time the long knife Amica drew from under her skirt, he having few of the false modesties many outlanders did. Life in a slaving caravan tended to alter one's perspective on many things.
He did not ask about it. As far as Jack knew it could have meant trust that she would reveal an otherwise hidden weapon, or mistrust that she sought to draw it. Under the circumstances, he hoped it was trust.
"Do you need anything for your preparations M'lady? 's just I have a task concerning captian Liam."
"I think he's around here somewhere. He did... something... - made him blend into the shadows on the walls. Im not too sure really." Jack felt a little embarrassed, he was way out of his depth. "Your husband seemed keen to find you, he could be checking the ship himself." Jack noticed for the first time the long knife Amica drew from under her skirt, he having few of the false modesties many outlanders did. Life in a slaving caravan tended to alter one's perspective on many things.
He did not ask about it. As far as Jack knew it could have meant trust that she would reveal an otherwise hidden weapon, or mistrust that she sought to draw it. Under the circumstances, he hoped it was trust.
"Do you need anything for your preparations M'lady? 's just I have a task concerning captian Liam."
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Guest
When T'kil was mentioned Maverick worriedly threw a glance in the direction that Luis had disappeared. Was it wise to discuss the older man at all? Only when he had reassured himself he motioned with his head towards the heap where the shaman had been last seen, still reassuring the horse by softly caressing it. "He is here," he stated.
"Will you be alright down below?" Maverick inquired with a frown "You carry yourself as a Lady of the West in that dress and they do not often mingle with men of lower status. They might question your.. ahm.. the appropriateness of your presence below." He didn't want to spell it out for her, but no virtuous lady would be seen unescorted among lowly sailors, which suggested she was in the eyes of the men from the Mouth at least, no more than an expensive whore, allowing them liberties. Yet the young man thought he knew enough of women not to call them such in their face, even as a warning. They could get upset over the strangest things, and take insult where none was intended.
Even though he rationally knew Amica was a native, and thus able to protect herself, he could not help but consider her weak, as he did all women, and unable to protect herself against more common dangers. "Perhaps your husband should escort you," he told her firmly.
"Will you be alright down below?" Maverick inquired with a frown "You carry yourself as a Lady of the West in that dress and they do not often mingle with men of lower status. They might question your.. ahm.. the appropriateness of your presence below." He didn't want to spell it out for her, but no virtuous lady would be seen unescorted among lowly sailors, which suggested she was in the eyes of the men from the Mouth at least, no more than an expensive whore, allowing them liberties. Yet the young man thought he knew enough of women not to call them such in their face, even as a warning. They could get upset over the strangest things, and take insult where none was intended.
Even though he rationally knew Amica was a native, and thus able to protect herself, he could not help but consider her weak, as he did all women, and unable to protect herself against more common dangers. "Perhaps your husband should escort you," he told her firmly.
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Guest
OOC: Quick ship layout guys - You are on the bottom level. There are two levels above with different areas for personnel (soldiers and sailors) and other cargo and then the main deck. There is a poopdeck and underneath it is Rezon's quarters. Directly below Rezon's quarters are the Marshall's. Currently, you are near the front of the ship.
IC: "I doubt my presence as an escort would do anything but cause an even bigger ruckus," said T'kil, emerging from the shadows behind a stack of crates. He had a gleem in his eye that Jack could tell was meant for him. It seemed to be telling him "I can hide very well, thank you."
Then the older shaman turned his gaze to his "wife." One side of his mouth twisted up in a sly smile and he took a deep breath. Relief shown on his face and his smile widened. Despite that they were practically trapped in the bowels of a strange flying boat, surrounded by a hundred soldiers with few, if any, true allies, he was thoroughly joyful that Amica was here with him now.
"I knew that when you did not return that something had gone wrong," he started, reminding Amica of when she'd been discovered sneaking into the Marshall's quarters. His gaze turned quizzical when he saw the dress she wore. Their tale probably had several chapters for the telling, but now was not the time. "You will tell me about it all when we are off this wetlander contraption.
"But now, tell me what you have planned and tell me more about this storm. Do you, daughter of the storm," T'kil asked as his sly smile returned, "fear what I fear? Is not this the second time we've seen a storm cross our path in a quest for our peshawgo?"
IC: "I doubt my presence as an escort would do anything but cause an even bigger ruckus," said T'kil, emerging from the shadows behind a stack of crates. He had a gleem in his eye that Jack could tell was meant for him. It seemed to be telling him "I can hide very well, thank you."
Then the older shaman turned his gaze to his "wife." One side of his mouth twisted up in a sly smile and he took a deep breath. Relief shown on his face and his smile widened. Despite that they were practically trapped in the bowels of a strange flying boat, surrounded by a hundred soldiers with few, if any, true allies, he was thoroughly joyful that Amica was here with him now.
"I knew that when you did not return that something had gone wrong," he started, reminding Amica of when she'd been discovered sneaking into the Marshall's quarters. His gaze turned quizzical when he saw the dress she wore. Their tale probably had several chapters for the telling, but now was not the time. "You will tell me about it all when we are off this wetlander contraption.
"But now, tell me what you have planned and tell me more about this storm. Do you, daughter of the storm," T'kil asked as his sly smile returned, "fear what I fear? Is not this the second time we've seen a storm cross our path in a quest for our peshawgo?"
She had seen him do as much before, vanishing in place like a ghost. It was one of T'Kil's great powers...or perhaps skills...and it baffled and amazed Amica when she saw it. It was no great thing that the People of the Sands should learn to hide themselves in the desert...even Amica knew to bury herself in the dunes should she need to remain unseen...but he managed to do as much upon the streets of Sabata...or in the hold of Flying Machine. And it was pleasant to see him again despite her hopes that he had stayed behind. Now it was out of her hands...she could not protect him from the battle to come...and so she would know only pleasure that he must now share it.
"I see you, T'Kil!" she smiled, exchanging a pleased look with the other shaman as he emerged, breaking in upon their conversation and joining them at once. And his questions were direct and powerful, for they held the greatest impact upon their future. Indeed, he had voiced the same concern she had known only moments before. "You have seen into my mind, T'Kil. The storm could be from her. She can do us great evil aboard Flying Machine, for it is in her power," she said, confirming both of their suspicions.
"If it is to be used against us, then she sees us here and we might be doomed. If it is one or the other, I will use the storm. I will capture it and give it to remain with Flying Machine to circle her as might the winds of the djinn, that none might see in...and those aboard her might not see out," she explained, having no words to describe the cyclone of sand she sound to construct. "Then they will be blind, and they must follow their compass to reach their place. I will give their compass to lie..." she declared. Indeed, it was a very simple plan...and it would not be impossible given her brief review of the map Sky Marshal had shown her. Two simple spells to misguide Flying Machine to get them close enough to the mountains such that she could carry the war back to Aeis, Dragon of Wind.
Turning, Amica gazed at Maverick and Jack Farrell. She didn't know if the two would support her in her plan, but at least she offered one that required no threats and no sacrifice of life...and hopefully, no resistance from them. If they did resist her efforts, then she would be thwarted, for they could indeed reveal and destroy the runes she would have to construct to capture a piece of the storm and bend it to her will. "I must have time to build my spell, and I must have time to...attend to this compass as well. In this way, I will trick Flying Machine to carry us where we must go."
"I see you, T'Kil!" she smiled, exchanging a pleased look with the other shaman as he emerged, breaking in upon their conversation and joining them at once. And his questions were direct and powerful, for they held the greatest impact upon their future. Indeed, he had voiced the same concern she had known only moments before. "You have seen into my mind, T'Kil. The storm could be from her. She can do us great evil aboard Flying Machine, for it is in her power," she said, confirming both of their suspicions.
"If it is to be used against us, then she sees us here and we might be doomed. If it is one or the other, I will use the storm. I will capture it and give it to remain with Flying Machine to circle her as might the winds of the djinn, that none might see in...and those aboard her might not see out," she explained, having no words to describe the cyclone of sand she sound to construct. "Then they will be blind, and they must follow their compass to reach their place. I will give their compass to lie..." she declared. Indeed, it was a very simple plan...and it would not be impossible given her brief review of the map Sky Marshal had shown her. Two simple spells to misguide Flying Machine to get them close enough to the mountains such that she could carry the war back to Aeis, Dragon of Wind.
Turning, Amica gazed at Maverick and Jack Farrell. She didn't know if the two would support her in her plan, but at least she offered one that required no threats and no sacrifice of life...and hopefully, no resistance from them. If they did resist her efforts, then she would be thwarted, for they could indeed reveal and destroy the runes she would have to construct to capture a piece of the storm and bend it to her will. "I must have time to build my spell, and I must have time to...attend to this compass as well. In this way, I will trick Flying Machine to carry us where we must go."
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Guest
Maverick folded his arms as he listened to the exchange, and Amica subsequently telling them of her plans, while ignoring his warnings about her virtue Suit yourself lady, but don't come crying to me when you get hurt, he thought with a frown.
Amica planned to hide the airship in this sandstorm. At least nobody would get killed initially. Small good will that do us if everybody gets killed as we reach our destination. What an ill conceived plan this is... what am I doing here? Yet Maverick knew deep down that he liked a bit of a challenge and ending up on top against all the odds. The adventure called to him, and really, he had nothing better to do with his time. Might as well run after a pretty shaman and her husband and see how fortune served him.
That didn't mean he would readily throw himself in the line of fire to be killed however. Maverick had a fine sense of selfpreservation that you are forced to gain in the desert... and the exchange of meaningful glances and half sentences between Amica and her husband did not bode well for his immediate future. Apparantly they had an enemy on their tail and they didn't want Jack and Maverick to know about it. A fairly powerful one to cause a sandstorm; a djinn most likely. No.. Maverick suddenly recalled the name of the creature for T'kil had mentioned it earlier. Aeis; a Great Wind Dragon.
"So," Mav asked casually, scratching the light stubble that had appeared on his chin in these last few marks "Already this wind dragon is on our tail?" He gave T'Kil a hard look "How many more surprises do you have for us, mmm?"
He turned to Amica, businesslike but with a rough edge that pointed to his displeasure with the situation "Madam, I suggest you get on with your shaman magicks hurriedly for I have no desire to see that dragon up close without any defense. It has been my suggestion to put the crew to sleep, but with a storm at hand we'll need them on deck. That is still an option for the entire unit of soldiers aboard though. If you do not have spells, perhaps some herbs in the food might do the trick just as well." He glowered at her with a disgusted snort for already he thought this would turn ugly "Then, when it is convenient it would be nice if you would tell me of this Peshawgo before I die. "
Amica planned to hide the airship in this sandstorm. At least nobody would get killed initially. Small good will that do us if everybody gets killed as we reach our destination. What an ill conceived plan this is... what am I doing here? Yet Maverick knew deep down that he liked a bit of a challenge and ending up on top against all the odds. The adventure called to him, and really, he had nothing better to do with his time. Might as well run after a pretty shaman and her husband and see how fortune served him.
That didn't mean he would readily throw himself in the line of fire to be killed however. Maverick had a fine sense of selfpreservation that you are forced to gain in the desert... and the exchange of meaningful glances and half sentences between Amica and her husband did not bode well for his immediate future. Apparantly they had an enemy on their tail and they didn't want Jack and Maverick to know about it. A fairly powerful one to cause a sandstorm; a djinn most likely. No.. Maverick suddenly recalled the name of the creature for T'kil had mentioned it earlier. Aeis; a Great Wind Dragon.
"So," Mav asked casually, scratching the light stubble that had appeared on his chin in these last few marks "Already this wind dragon is on our tail?" He gave T'Kil a hard look "How many more surprises do you have for us, mmm?"
He turned to Amica, businesslike but with a rough edge that pointed to his displeasure with the situation "Madam, I suggest you get on with your shaman magicks hurriedly for I have no desire to see that dragon up close without any defense. It has been my suggestion to put the crew to sleep, but with a storm at hand we'll need them on deck. That is still an option for the entire unit of soldiers aboard though. If you do not have spells, perhaps some herbs in the food might do the trick just as well." He glowered at her with a disgusted snort for already he thought this would turn ugly "Then, when it is convenient it would be nice if you would tell me of this Peshawgo before I die. "
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Jack Farrell
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Jack nodded respectfully to T'kil as he came from no-where. "Neat trick, you will have to teach me."
He listened to the plan with a degree of mixed emotions. On one hand, he knew that the mission to fight Aeris was important. Very important. But he had a loyalty to Rezon that he could not ignore. This plan was perhaps one of the best. It would mean that they could misdirect the ship, leave in the storm and non would be any the wiser. Jack hated the thought of leaving the ship though. He had a potential future here. The quest against Aeris was almost certain death. That said there were so many tales of the hoards of dragons, and Rezon was certain to return to Sabata at some point... Jack was torn.
"It is a good plan Mav, the most practical one I can think of." Jack's voice was saddened. He did not like betraying the trust people placed in him. Especially not one who had aided him as greatly as Rezon.
"Well, if that is all agreed, we all have work to be doing im sure." Jack made to go to the door and a thought struck him.
"There is one thing. Rezon does not greatly trust the Cortierre, he is mightily suspicious of a man named Liam. Im not sure where it might lead, but we might even get Rezon to wave us off if we do a little dirty for him. Mav, I know you have work to do, but if you keep your ear out anything you hear would be good. Im going to ingratiate myself into the Cortierre... T'kil, im sure you would like to be with your wife, but any spare time you have..." Jack trailed off, he was not used to asking for help. "Shadows hear many things."
He listened to the plan with a degree of mixed emotions. On one hand, he knew that the mission to fight Aeris was important. Very important. But he had a loyalty to Rezon that he could not ignore. This plan was perhaps one of the best. It would mean that they could misdirect the ship, leave in the storm and non would be any the wiser. Jack hated the thought of leaving the ship though. He had a potential future here. The quest against Aeris was almost certain death. That said there were so many tales of the hoards of dragons, and Rezon was certain to return to Sabata at some point... Jack was torn.
"It is a good plan Mav, the most practical one I can think of." Jack's voice was saddened. He did not like betraying the trust people placed in him. Especially not one who had aided him as greatly as Rezon.
"Well, if that is all agreed, we all have work to be doing im sure." Jack made to go to the door and a thought struck him.
"There is one thing. Rezon does not greatly trust the Cortierre, he is mightily suspicious of a man named Liam. Im not sure where it might lead, but we might even get Rezon to wave us off if we do a little dirty for him. Mav, I know you have work to do, but if you keep your ear out anything you hear would be good. Im going to ingratiate myself into the Cortierre... T'kil, im sure you would like to be with your wife, but any spare time you have..." Jack trailed off, he was not used to asking for help. "Shadows hear many things."