OOC: Total rewrite ~ 08/28/05 - Gaius
IC:
The morning of the 22nd was no different than any of the other recent mornings. The sky was cloudless as the morning sun rose over Sabata’s harbor. A faint breeze blew in from the harbor bringing with it all the appropriate smells. It would not last long under the burning sun. Before long, the breeze would fail and the city would begin its slow bake.
The citizens of Sabata were used to the heat but the summer had been long and it was time for the chill that was never quite cool enough to arrive. They shielded themselves as best they could, the People of the Sand in their various colored robes, wide-brimmed hats of the locals and shaded rickshaws for the wealth. They would toil beneath the desert sun as long as necessary. There was coin to be gained.
In the warehouse district, though, there was a buzz of activity unlike most days. Trade was the lifeblood of Sabata. Indeed, if there was no market and no port, there would be no city. The warehouses served their masters dutifully, holding their merchant’s goods until needed. Inventory came and went. Porters came and went. The warehouses did not complain; they served.
It was here that T'kil and Amica arrived, blending in with the myriad of cultures that mixed in the port city. Two of the People wandering through the warehouse district would do little to cause suspicon.
Short squat buildings sat beneath the some of the smaller domes. Wagons were being loaded by men in foreign uniforms. Shouts in strange languages rang through the air. The whole area hummed with excitement but the commotion centered around the largest warehouse beneath the largest dome of this area. Massive doors were open to the workers going about their business. Amica could see all manner of goods being organized for some massive transport.
Quietly, T'kil led Amica down one of the alleys farther from the what seemed to be the hub. There were less people here and two easily slipped to the rear unnoticed. Resting against some stacked crates, T'kil pointed to the horizon, his finger indicating the highest dune visible on the outskirts of the city.
"It is there, just cresting the great dune, Amica. Can you see it? I confess, I known only little of the guarrdi's ways outside of the city, but I have ears like every other man." An image flashed into his mind of the washing ritual from the previous night. She knows well that I have ears, he thought.
"It is a ship, like the ones used to traverse the great oceans, but this one, flies through the sky."
Sabata:Warehouse District ~ Amica (Samheen 22, MT)
Moderator: Mods
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Guest
Sabata:Warehouse District ~ Amica (Samheen 22, MT)
Last edited by Guest on Mon Aug 29, 2005 6:32 am, edited 2 times in total.
If nothing else, at least she was clean. Amica should have felt frustrated and worn, having spent much of yesterday scribing her magics into countless little buttons of abalone, but she had managed only to shatter most of them, her magics restless and almost chaotic, a state of affairs that gave her no comfort at all. But some appear to have held, scribed with the rune if 'Ushki such that it might give some small protection against something insignificant. At least they are pleasing to look upon, thought the shaman, the buttons decorating her person even now, each one a translucent disk flared with a string of beads or feathers. Else I would destroy them now and cast them to the street. But she had managed to find the time to clean, scrub, and repair all of her traveling gear and clothes, and for that she was most pleased.
Her failure was not unexpected. Her magics were somewhat damaged, a result of the curse, perhaps, though she had no true way to know. Still, she could not bring herself to feel frustrated, for she had slept well the last two nights, resting alongside T'Kil. He was most respected and even feared by the People who lived in the guarrdi city, and perhaps even by the guarrdi himself as a man that held the secrets of the black tribe within him. And Amica was his pupil and assistant, at least as far as they could see, for she would call him master and care for him and watch after him. In truth, they were far more, for she had laid a claim upon him and he had given over to her, a sudden love that had done much to dispel her unease and growing anxiety over the afflictions of the desert. Thinking back to his almost timid, yielding attitude when they were alone, she could not suppress her smile, for when they were alone, she was master and he was the servant.
And she would do much to protect the growing attraction and affinity they felt for one another, even going so far as to reach out to him when no one else could see as well as to display herself whenever she could manage it without discredit. It was with far less modesty she wore her preferred travelling outfit, her tough leather leggings rising up to her mid thigh, her tiny, laced britches covering her hips, and her little vest only just holding her breasts in place with the Dragon Talisman tucked within, the Talisman urgently tugging at her once again like a serpent or a rodent tucked into her bosom. Long leather gloves covered both her hands and arms, her hair was tied up into two great tails that billowed out behind her in a fashion she enjoyed. She wore her shaman cloak overall, but she left it to fall open before her to expose the dusky skin of her stomach and her thighs and she rolled up and tied the sleeves such that her gloved forearms were free.
On her back she carried her travel bag, the contents largely unchanged since her journey first began so long ago though she had added a few curious pieces of clothing within, such as a wispy slip of silk that did little to hide her body...a souvenir from the Witch Lair she had not the heart to discard. She also carried Annuire, it's runes dull and quiet though to her they still felt alive, as if they were awaiting the moment to strike. She had painted her face today, a blue paint that covered her eyes, cheeks, and forehead with simple designs that meant nothing, a simple trick of fashion that gave her green eyes to shine perhaps more noticeably, and she moved with the same buoyant spring she had known since her first night with T'Kil when she had washed him and opened her heart to him, as if the weight of the cruel world had fallen away forever.
And now we will fly? she pondered, having heard his words from before, words that struck her senses though she had not yet truly understood them. She had no reason not to believe T'Kil and every reason to trust him implicitly, so she had accepted his words without question, but such a thing instantly seemed unnatural and perhaps dangerous given that they hunted the Dragon of Wind. Still, T'Kil has the right of it. If we might fly, there is no faster way we might hunt our nemesis. It is worth the risk, she knew, glancing down the street to where the guarrdi spoke, their curious accents and colorful clothing giving Ami to feel curiosity and amusement, a new attitude for the usually xenophobic desert girl that once regarded all guarrdi as dangerous.
Her failure was not unexpected. Her magics were somewhat damaged, a result of the curse, perhaps, though she had no true way to know. Still, she could not bring herself to feel frustrated, for she had slept well the last two nights, resting alongside T'Kil. He was most respected and even feared by the People who lived in the guarrdi city, and perhaps even by the guarrdi himself as a man that held the secrets of the black tribe within him. And Amica was his pupil and assistant, at least as far as they could see, for she would call him master and care for him and watch after him. In truth, they were far more, for she had laid a claim upon him and he had given over to her, a sudden love that had done much to dispel her unease and growing anxiety over the afflictions of the desert. Thinking back to his almost timid, yielding attitude when they were alone, she could not suppress her smile, for when they were alone, she was master and he was the servant.
And she would do much to protect the growing attraction and affinity they felt for one another, even going so far as to reach out to him when no one else could see as well as to display herself whenever she could manage it without discredit. It was with far less modesty she wore her preferred travelling outfit, her tough leather leggings rising up to her mid thigh, her tiny, laced britches covering her hips, and her little vest only just holding her breasts in place with the Dragon Talisman tucked within, the Talisman urgently tugging at her once again like a serpent or a rodent tucked into her bosom. Long leather gloves covered both her hands and arms, her hair was tied up into two great tails that billowed out behind her in a fashion she enjoyed. She wore her shaman cloak overall, but she left it to fall open before her to expose the dusky skin of her stomach and her thighs and she rolled up and tied the sleeves such that her gloved forearms were free.
On her back she carried her travel bag, the contents largely unchanged since her journey first began so long ago though she had added a few curious pieces of clothing within, such as a wispy slip of silk that did little to hide her body...a souvenir from the Witch Lair she had not the heart to discard. She also carried Annuire, it's runes dull and quiet though to her they still felt alive, as if they were awaiting the moment to strike. She had painted her face today, a blue paint that covered her eyes, cheeks, and forehead with simple designs that meant nothing, a simple trick of fashion that gave her green eyes to shine perhaps more noticeably, and she moved with the same buoyant spring she had known since her first night with T'Kil when she had washed him and opened her heart to him, as if the weight of the cruel world had fallen away forever.
And now we will fly? she pondered, having heard his words from before, words that struck her senses though she had not yet truly understood them. She had no reason not to believe T'Kil and every reason to trust him implicitly, so she had accepted his words without question, but such a thing instantly seemed unnatural and perhaps dangerous given that they hunted the Dragon of Wind. Still, T'Kil has the right of it. If we might fly, there is no faster way we might hunt our nemesis. It is worth the risk, she knew, glancing down the street to where the guarrdi spoke, their curious accents and colorful clothing giving Ami to feel curiosity and amusement, a new attitude for the usually xenophobic desert girl that once regarded all guarrdi as dangerous.
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Guest
OOC: We'll assume you were speechless 
IC:
Amica witnessed the grand airship arrive like some magical insect, hovering unnaturally before descending into the middle of the wide expanse of ground. Men rushed out to meet it, securing mooring lines to stakes shoved deep into the sands. One in particular, caught Amica's eye and T'kil's as well. He wore a loose, linen blouse and large, black boots and walked with a marked confidence toward the arriving ship. Even at this distance, Amica could see his affinity for it.
Something else caught Amica's eye as they watched the sailors secure the airship. It was a man, a guarrdi, that she recognized. Following close by the heals of the man in boots, was a fellow she'd seen in a scuffle the day she arrived.
Amica heard T'kil whistle.
"The guarrdi are clever, no?" asked T'kil to the air.
"But, of course, now comes the challenge." He paused and looked seriously at his companion.
"Now, we must make her ours."
IC:
Amica witnessed the grand airship arrive like some magical insect, hovering unnaturally before descending into the middle of the wide expanse of ground. Men rushed out to meet it, securing mooring lines to stakes shoved deep into the sands. One in particular, caught Amica's eye and T'kil's as well. He wore a loose, linen blouse and large, black boots and walked with a marked confidence toward the arriving ship. Even at this distance, Amica could see his affinity for it.
Something else caught Amica's eye as they watched the sailors secure the airship. It was a man, a guarrdi, that she recognized. Following close by the heals of the man in boots, was a fellow she'd seen in a scuffle the day she arrived.
Amica heard T'kil whistle.
"The guarrdi are clever, no?" asked T'kil to the air.
"But, of course, now comes the challenge." He paused and looked seriously at his companion.
"Now, we must make her ours."
"This is the meaning of your words!" breathed Amica, her excitement and wonder apparent upon her voice. She had never heard of such a thing...she had never imagined such a thing...as what she saw just now, a machine that could fly...and such a large machine, flying so very fast indeed...it will take us west with great speed! This is the greatest of omens, and it is certainly our fate to use this device.
While Amica was not clever in the ways of 'engineering', it did not take overlong for her sharp mind to pick out the great details of the airship as it approached. The spinning blades behind it cut and abused the wind such that it pushed through the airs, and the great wings and fins of the flying machine directed them such that it remained on the course they wished. But what turned the blades? And what held it aloft? She could not conceive of such things, but she knew that there must be great magics...or at least clever magics...at work.
Leaning towards T'Kil and reaching for his arm...Ami sought any reason to touch him and be near him...she spoke. "It will serve us well. But we will not know how to make such a device obey. Perhaps we must hide ourselves aboard and then claim the ship as our own once it is aloft? We will force them to turn for the mountains west, though they might head in that way all of their own accord," she rationalized, watching the immense vessel land as lightly as a falling feather. That Amica was so instantly willing to hijack the ship was perhaps no great surprise, for they were only guarrdi...and their cause was greater than anything at all. The young shaman would not endanger the peoples aboard, but she would use them to take her west, and she would enforce her will over them with whatever show of strength that might require. "Either through force or coercion, will we not need the guarrdi to make this great machine do our bidding?"
While Amica was not clever in the ways of 'engineering', it did not take overlong for her sharp mind to pick out the great details of the airship as it approached. The spinning blades behind it cut and abused the wind such that it pushed through the airs, and the great wings and fins of the flying machine directed them such that it remained on the course they wished. But what turned the blades? And what held it aloft? She could not conceive of such things, but she knew that there must be great magics...or at least clever magics...at work.
Leaning towards T'Kil and reaching for his arm...Ami sought any reason to touch him and be near him...she spoke. "It will serve us well. But we will not know how to make such a device obey. Perhaps we must hide ourselves aboard and then claim the ship as our own once it is aloft? We will force them to turn for the mountains west, though they might head in that way all of their own accord," she rationalized, watching the immense vessel land as lightly as a falling feather. That Amica was so instantly willing to hijack the ship was perhaps no great surprise, for they were only guarrdi...and their cause was greater than anything at all. The young shaman would not endanger the peoples aboard, but she would use them to take her west, and she would enforce her will over them with whatever show of strength that might require. "Either through force or coercion, will we not need the guarrdi to make this great machine do our bidding?"
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Guest
"Yes, my thoughts exactly," smirked T'kil, pleased that Amica had come so quickly to his own deduction.
"Force, coercion, a combination, I think is more likely. I truly know not other than they head east. I have listened with interest since I heard of this ship's arrival. I admit, for no greater motivation than curiosity, I followed the merchant's rumors and gossip until I knew at least this much," he said waving to indicate the scene around him.
"I assume it must have a captain, like the ships of the sea do. Someone who guides its course. This one acts just the same. It is taking on supplies, here; salts, ore, cloth, foodstuffs, even weapons and armor. It seems that it may just be another vessel for trading. If so, then perhaps the captain is a businessman and could "trade" for our passage. I'm sure he could would be willing to trade his life for a few days delay to his destination, don't you?"
As he asked his question, large wagons began to roll through the warehouse laden with carts for the ship and men began to carry the crates into the hold.
"Force, coercion, a combination, I think is more likely. I truly know not other than they head east. I have listened with interest since I heard of this ship's arrival. I admit, for no greater motivation than curiosity, I followed the merchant's rumors and gossip until I knew at least this much," he said waving to indicate the scene around him.
"I assume it must have a captain, like the ships of the sea do. Someone who guides its course. This one acts just the same. It is taking on supplies, here; salts, ore, cloth, foodstuffs, even weapons and armor. It seems that it may just be another vessel for trading. If so, then perhaps the captain is a businessman and could "trade" for our passage. I'm sure he could would be willing to trade his life for a few days delay to his destination, don't you?"
As he asked his question, large wagons began to roll through the warehouse laden with carts for the ship and men began to carry the crates into the hold.
"Yes, master, they will," responded the shaman girl at once, remembering the coin she had in her purse. It would be sensible...and it would be more likely. While she held no great opinion of negotiating with them, she had to admit that the guarrdi were very reasonable when coins were involved. "We need not act in force or with cunning if we might merely purchase passage. Then we might seek our chances with the Air Captain once we are away from this place. I will go forward and speak to this captain and arrange our place among them. Perhaps it would be wisest if you were to await my summons here, T'Kil? I would not have us both delivered into the hands of danger if it is danger the guarrdi represent," she declared, inspecting the curious machine and the people that attended to it like so many ants serving their great mound.
If T'Kil offered her no dissent to her precaution, Amica would shoulder her bag once again and step forward, using her great spear as she might a walking stick as she moved towards the great flying machine. If fate smiled upon her once again, then the Ship That Sailed Upon Air would perhaps be destined to travel towards the setting sun, taking them west towards the distant mountains where her nemesis Aeis could be found. And as we near the mountains, perhaps I will find a way to secure this captain's assistance? There will be a way, for fate demands it.
She would look for the Sky Captain, undoubtedly a man that would seem as the chief of those that served the Ship That Sailed Upon Air, a guarrdi that did no work loading her but would attend to the great machine carefully, perhaps showing great pride in that which was his. With her hood thrown back to reveal her face, Amica walked among them, listening closely and watching for such a man as she neared the mighty contraption.
If T'Kil offered her no dissent to her precaution, Amica would shoulder her bag once again and step forward, using her great spear as she might a walking stick as she moved towards the great flying machine. If fate smiled upon her once again, then the Ship That Sailed Upon Air would perhaps be destined to travel towards the setting sun, taking them west towards the distant mountains where her nemesis Aeis could be found. And as we near the mountains, perhaps I will find a way to secure this captain's assistance? There will be a way, for fate demands it.
She would look for the Sky Captain, undoubtedly a man that would seem as the chief of those that served the Ship That Sailed Upon Air, a guarrdi that did no work loading her but would attend to the great machine carefully, perhaps showing great pride in that which was his. With her hood thrown back to reveal her face, Amica walked among them, listening closely and watching for such a man as she neared the mighty contraption.
Last edited by Amica on Tue Sep 06, 2005 2:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Guest
"Such wisdom," smirked T'kil, his voice sweetly poisoned.
"I will remain in the area and follow when you leave. If we become truly separated, either by force or by chance, let us meet at Wale's, and if not there, back near the beach tomorrow at morningtide. Fare well," he said, winking and turned to leave Amica to her investigation.
Amica walked easily among the men. She turned a few heads but served as more of an obstacle for those carrying goods than a treat for their eyes. They were sailors and porters of Sabata though, and the site of one of the People was not new. Indeed, some of the sailors themselves looked like they had some of the People's lineage in their blood.
She made her way close to where the two men she had noticed before stood. Both were human, guarrdi without a doubt. They were a contrast, one a young man of average height and short dark hair, with broad shoulders and a sense of physicality that could be ignorend and a tall, slender human with thinning hair and a sense of arrogance and flamboyance that oozed even from this distance. They were talking earnestly about the ship before them, Amica recognized two distinct accents.
OOC: Amica, thank you for your patience - when you continue, please post [url=https://tazlure.nl/board/viewtopic.php?t=10077]here
[/url]. You may interact with either person before you in the new post.
"I will remain in the area and follow when you leave. If we become truly separated, either by force or by chance, let us meet at Wale's, and if not there, back near the beach tomorrow at morningtide. Fare well," he said, winking and turned to leave Amica to her investigation.
Amica walked easily among the men. She turned a few heads but served as more of an obstacle for those carrying goods than a treat for their eyes. They were sailors and porters of Sabata though, and the site of one of the People was not new. Indeed, some of the sailors themselves looked like they had some of the People's lineage in their blood.
She made her way close to where the two men she had noticed before stood. Both were human, guarrdi without a doubt. They were a contrast, one a young man of average height and short dark hair, with broad shoulders and a sense of physicality that could be ignorend and a tall, slender human with thinning hair and a sense of arrogance and flamboyance that oozed even from this distance. They were talking earnestly about the ship before them, Amica recognized two distinct accents.
OOC: Amica, thank you for your patience - when you continue, please post [url=https://tazlure.nl/board/viewtopic.php?t=10077]here
[/url]. You may interact with either person before you in the new post.
Last edited by Guest on Sun Sep 11, 2005 8:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
To Flying Machine she went, and back again, having secured an ally to help them aboard the machine while the workers were distracted with drink and cheer. It was a good plan, but first she must await T'Kil's return to her. Watching as Jack Farrell left to rejoin his people, she stood in the alley for a time, watching the laborers work and scanning the machine for what would be the most likely place she and her mentor and lover would gain entry, undoubtedly climbing a rope and sneaking aboard to conceal herself in the belly of the Machine for what could be days.
Reaching up, Amica toyed with the talisman around her neck as it writhed and squirmed towards the West, a symbol both of her task as well as the urgency of it, though her spirit was at ease and content that she had done her best in all things. Even her recent involvement with T'Kil gave her some comfort, for while she could not expect them to live beyond their battle with Aeis, the power of his place in her heart would strengthen her in the coming hardships, a power that could only help her in her resolve to save her People.
Waiting alone, Amica found herself daydreaming of distant days, when she held her own child in her arms and sat upon the elder council as one of them, her words attended carefully and her People safe and content under her guidance. It was a foolish, childish daydream, but it was one that gave her to smile and remember why she would take this battle back to the wicked Dragon of Wind. She believed her cause to be righteous, and with such a cause she could meet her death with great honor and dignity.
Reaching up, Amica toyed with the talisman around her neck as it writhed and squirmed towards the West, a symbol both of her task as well as the urgency of it, though her spirit was at ease and content that she had done her best in all things. Even her recent involvement with T'Kil gave her some comfort, for while she could not expect them to live beyond their battle with Aeis, the power of his place in her heart would strengthen her in the coming hardships, a power that could only help her in her resolve to save her People.
Waiting alone, Amica found herself daydreaming of distant days, when she held her own child in her arms and sat upon the elder council as one of them, her words attended carefully and her People safe and content under her guidance. It was a foolish, childish daydream, but it was one that gave her to smile and remember why she would take this battle back to the wicked Dragon of Wind. She believed her cause to be righteous, and with such a cause she could meet her death with great honor and dignity.
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Guest
"Watch your step, girl," whispered a familiar voice snidely.
Amica, lost in her dream had not noticed the bundle of rags at her feet until it spoke. When it did, she realized that it was T'kil, wonderfully disguised. Brushing the sand and dust from his body, T'kil rose suddenly appearing like a dust devil as the earth flew from his robes. Still, beneath a grimy face, Amica could see a welcoming smile.
"I have much to tell you, Ami," said T'kil, using her informal name. "I hope you were able to learn much, I believe this city is becoming unsafe."
He chuckled slightly as he said the words. Sabata was one of the dirtiest, roughest cities in Tazlure. Surviving amongst its corrupted corridors took wits and courage, or at least blind luck. There was irony in the words of what most would call a Sabatan native. Sabata was always unsafe. For T'kil to bring it up now must mean something had seriously gone wrong.
Amica, lost in her dream had not noticed the bundle of rags at her feet until it spoke. When it did, she realized that it was T'kil, wonderfully disguised. Brushing the sand and dust from his body, T'kil rose suddenly appearing like a dust devil as the earth flew from his robes. Still, beneath a grimy face, Amica could see a welcoming smile.
"I have much to tell you, Ami," said T'kil, using her informal name. "I hope you were able to learn much, I believe this city is becoming unsafe."
He chuckled slightly as he said the words. Sabata was one of the dirtiest, roughest cities in Tazlure. Surviving amongst its corrupted corridors took wits and courage, or at least blind luck. There was irony in the words of what most would call a Sabatan native. Sabata was always unsafe. For T'kil to bring it up now must mean something had seriously gone wrong.
Taken unaware by his presence, Amica smiled down at the heap of rags that became T'Kil. To bury oneself in so light a layer of sand was an old trick among the People, but to do so in the streets of this City was a testament to his resource and practice, and it amazed her and have her to grin foolishly...though she often grinned foolishly when T'Kil was near. "I will be very cautious T'Kil, for I would do far more to you than simply kick or step upon you," she quipped, the innuendo of her levity strange and new to her despite the ease with which it came.
Instantly turning back to their great task, Amica glanced over at the airship. "If this city has become so very unsafe, then we must hide ourselves...and where better than in the belly of Flying Machine? We must carry our skins of water and we must bring what food we will need for several days, and we must do so quickly, for I have made an ally among them and we will soon have opportunity to sneak within Her."
"We must move quickly, T'Kil, for our opportunity comes soon," she said, though she suspected that her mentor and lover had already heard much of her conversation with Jack Farrell. "And we must conceal ourselves within Flying Machine such that we are not found when Sky Captain returns."
Instantly turning back to their great task, Amica glanced over at the airship. "If this city has become so very unsafe, then we must hide ourselves...and where better than in the belly of Flying Machine? We must carry our skins of water and we must bring what food we will need for several days, and we must do so quickly, for I have made an ally among them and we will soon have opportunity to sneak within Her."
"We must move quickly, T'Kil, for our opportunity comes soon," she said, though she suspected that her mentor and lover had already heard much of her conversation with Jack Farrell. "And we must conceal ourselves within Flying Machine such that we are not found when Sky Captain returns."
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Guest
T'kil smiled at Amica's response and stood and looked intently at the great magical airship. Men still loaded the hold, scampering up and down the gangplanks but the flow had steadily decreased. Where men had been rushing about, now the workers arrived intermittenly and mostly in small groups. It was obvious that cargo activities would be ending soon, though. Pairs of sailors patrolled in and around the ship, examining mooring lines and climbing the riggings.
"I hope we can trust your friend for leaving is truly a wise course. Last night," he explained, "there was some sort of disturbance in the harbor. From what I gather, there was a small skirmish on one of the ships that held either slaves or prisoners . . .I could not learn. But I did understand that the ship belonged to guarrdi not of this city, but of another, a great city across the sea."
He looked suspiciously behind them and then back toward the loading yard.
"So we will wait in the stomach of magical flying contraption," mused T'kil, the lines on his forehead creasing deeply.
"Oddly appropriate, don't you think?" He laughed.
"When should we board?"
OOC: Amica - in your next post, you can assume you waited until the end of the work and witnessed Jack and Rezon departing with a small group of sailors.
"I hope we can trust your friend for leaving is truly a wise course. Last night," he explained, "there was some sort of disturbance in the harbor. From what I gather, there was a small skirmish on one of the ships that held either slaves or prisoners . . .I could not learn. But I did understand that the ship belonged to guarrdi not of this city, but of another, a great city across the sea."
He looked suspiciously behind them and then back toward the loading yard.
"So we will wait in the stomach of magical flying contraption," mused T'kil, the lines on his forehead creasing deeply.
"Oddly appropriate, don't you think?" He laughed.
"When should we board?"
OOC: Amica - in your next post, you can assume you waited until the end of the work and witnessed Jack and Rezon departing with a small group of sailors.
Amica turned her gaze upon the contraption as well, oddly at peace and strangely confident for what was to come. "I have given our ally to lure the guarrdi away when they are completed their loadings. We might then spirit ourselves aboard and within Her, and we must hide ourselves there such that we cannot be easily found. We will be waiting for some time, T'Kil," she said. She had her waterskin, so they could last for a few days within the belly of Flying Machine, but they would need to find food once they emerged and landed.
Waiting patiently for the wet landers to finish their work, Amica spent her time looking for any source of food she could pack...a loaf of bread, perhaps...that she could purchase and tuck within her bag in case the need might arise. She might easily determine what time she had by the cargo that remained to be loaded, and she would be very careful not to be away when they finished their tasks, for she must board Flying Machine quickly else she might not have the time to properly conceal herself and T'Kil within before they returned. Packing a snack was not so very important to her, after all...she had gone for days without eating before, and while she would never enjoy such a thing, it was not unbearable.
"T'Kil, they go," she declared, when the workers finally left Flying Machine to go with Jack Farrell. Glancing once at her mentor, she nodded and set out, moving towards that machine casually at first, and then with growing determination. She would climb aboard the machine first, and then descend within Her to the lowest place she could find...perhaps a place made heavy such that she did not turn upon her side or turn over completely.
Waiting patiently for the wet landers to finish their work, Amica spent her time looking for any source of food she could pack...a loaf of bread, perhaps...that she could purchase and tuck within her bag in case the need might arise. She might easily determine what time she had by the cargo that remained to be loaded, and she would be very careful not to be away when they finished their tasks, for she must board Flying Machine quickly else she might not have the time to properly conceal herself and T'Kil within before they returned. Packing a snack was not so very important to her, after all...she had gone for days without eating before, and while she would never enjoy such a thing, it was not unbearable.
"T'Kil, they go," she declared, when the workers finally left Flying Machine to go with Jack Farrell. Glancing once at her mentor, she nodded and set out, moving towards that machine casually at first, and then with growing determination. She would climb aboard the machine first, and then descend within Her to the lowest place she could find...perhaps a place made heavy such that she did not turn upon her side or turn over completely.
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Guest
Amica crossed the deepening shadows of the warehouses as she approached the great airship in the fading afternoon light. Sabata would soon be changing. During the day, the bustle of commerce masked the city’s true personality. Sabata was a dangerous city. Only the foolish dared its streets unprepared. Thus, Amica did not find it surprising that sentries patrolled the area where the airship moored.
Jack and the crew had disembarked from a narrow gangplank near the bow of the ship. With a rope railing, it was used almost solely for personnel movement. The larger ramp which had facilitated the cargo had been stored for the voyage. The gangplank seemed the only formal way of boarding the vessel.
A single sentry guarded the ship from the deck. He walked the railing in a circle, looking for anything suspicious or threatening. Two more patrolled the base of the ship. Their positions were more static. They only seemed to move to get the sun out of their eyes. Both of these men wore leathers and carried long pole arms. They were neither local guardsmen or Red Tribe warriors, most likely they were mercenaries.
Each eyed Amica and T’kil, though Amica more favorably, as they moved into sight but neither moved to intercept. At this time of the afternoon, locals would be expected though not uncommon. That is, unless, they came directly toward the ship.
Jack and the crew had disembarked from a narrow gangplank near the bow of the ship. With a rope railing, it was used almost solely for personnel movement. The larger ramp which had facilitated the cargo had been stored for the voyage. The gangplank seemed the only formal way of boarding the vessel.
A single sentry guarded the ship from the deck. He walked the railing in a circle, looking for anything suspicious or threatening. Two more patrolled the base of the ship. Their positions were more static. They only seemed to move to get the sun out of their eyes. Both of these men wore leathers and carried long pole arms. They were neither local guardsmen or Red Tribe warriors, most likely they were mercenaries.
Each eyed Amica and T’kil, though Amica more favorably, as they moved into sight but neither moved to intercept. At this time of the afternoon, locals would be expected though not uncommon. That is, unless, they came directly toward the ship.
Of guards, there were only three...and only one that would be a great threat to her, the one atop the ship that remained in motion and attentive. And what of the ones I cannot see? thought Amica, the corner of her mouth curling in resignation. It would be nice to accomplish her infiltration without incident, but the shaman girl was far too pessimistic...or perhaps realistic...to expect such fortune. Still, the situation was worse than she had hoped, but better than she had expected, so she found some comfort that her task didn't seem overly impossible.
"T'Kil," whispered Amica, her quick mind hoping to present a more likely presentation to the guards they would soon pass. "You must place your arm around me as we walk, as might a jealous lover," she instructed, though this minor deception...if indeed a deception it was...would be at least amusing to them, bringing back memories of another time she and T'Kil crept through the city on a quest some time ago.
The two guards below would guard the gangplank, a long stretch of board that angled up to the ship's deck above. This was sensible...it would be the most reasonable way aboard the ship...but never once did Amica humor the possibility that her feet might touch it. For true stealth, there could be no compromise. Perhaps she could bribe the guards...she still had considerable coin....but a failure would not only leave them in place, but it would alert them to her attempted infiltration, a situation that would make her task impossible. No, they were lethargic and bored right now...and she would have them remain that way for another few burns as the sun descended fully.
Therefore she passed them without incident. There was too much light, and she had not yet chosen how she would sneak aboard. As she passed the guards, she smiled at one of them, her expression one of curiosity and interest though her innocent demeanor was little more than a convenient excuse to inspect him closely without arousing suspicion. Once they were passed, she continued on to angle around the airship at a distance, moving to a place opposite the boarding ramp such that she could not be readily seen by the sentries on the ground. This would take her to the aft of the airship, a place where two great blades were affixed to the Flying Machine. Once the guards were well behind her, she whispered to T'Kil.
"We will let the light fail to shadow more, and then we will sneak aboard her by way of the great spinning swords behind Flying Machine. Perhaps there will be an opening...a window...through which we might climb?" she said, moving onward and shifting to inspect the airship from this new angle. She would indeed search for the great gallery of windows that could be seen to dominate the backs of most sea-going vessels, though she could not know if a flying vessel...or more specifically this flying vessel...even had such a thing.
"T'Kil," whispered Amica, her quick mind hoping to present a more likely presentation to the guards they would soon pass. "You must place your arm around me as we walk, as might a jealous lover," she instructed, though this minor deception...if indeed a deception it was...would be at least amusing to them, bringing back memories of another time she and T'Kil crept through the city on a quest some time ago.
The two guards below would guard the gangplank, a long stretch of board that angled up to the ship's deck above. This was sensible...it would be the most reasonable way aboard the ship...but never once did Amica humor the possibility that her feet might touch it. For true stealth, there could be no compromise. Perhaps she could bribe the guards...she still had considerable coin....but a failure would not only leave them in place, but it would alert them to her attempted infiltration, a situation that would make her task impossible. No, they were lethargic and bored right now...and she would have them remain that way for another few burns as the sun descended fully.
Therefore she passed them without incident. There was too much light, and she had not yet chosen how she would sneak aboard. As she passed the guards, she smiled at one of them, her expression one of curiosity and interest though her innocent demeanor was little more than a convenient excuse to inspect him closely without arousing suspicion. Once they were passed, she continued on to angle around the airship at a distance, moving to a place opposite the boarding ramp such that she could not be readily seen by the sentries on the ground. This would take her to the aft of the airship, a place where two great blades were affixed to the Flying Machine. Once the guards were well behind her, she whispered to T'Kil.
"We will let the light fail to shadow more, and then we will sneak aboard her by way of the great spinning swords behind Flying Machine. Perhaps there will be an opening...a window...through which we might climb?" she said, moving onward and shifting to inspect the airship from this new angle. She would indeed search for the great gallery of windows that could be seen to dominate the backs of most sea-going vessels, though she could not know if a flying vessel...or more specifically this flying vessel...even had such a thing.
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T’kil followed Amica’s instructions and placed his arm affectionately around her slender shoulders. Her hair, heady with Amica’s scent, tickled his chin, reminding him of their previous night together. He knew there was part of him wanting to continue this ruse beyond their current task; to continue walking past this magical wonder and lose themselves in the dark, curling maze of Sabata. He almost laughed. Who would ever picture the cutthroat alleys of this desert city desirable, he thought. Gently, he pulled her closer and pushed the fantasies from his mind. He should be focusing on the ship; that and their mad quest to confront a dragon.
The airship loomed before them. It was a large vessel, even compared to its sea-going siblings. Judging from the cargo they had seen loaded into it earlier, the Scillus could hold that plus more. It would easily have room for two stowaways, should they find a safe way aboard.
The guard returned Amica’s smile even while she was nestled beneath her lover’s arm. She could see a glint of understanding in his eyes and he watched appreciatively as the pair passed. His gaze, though, only followed them briefly and returned to scanning the other citizens walking the streets. An airship was not a common site and there were still plenty of gawkers trying to get a glance before the vessel departed.
As Amica and T’kil approached the rear of the Scillus they received their first view of the great, twin propellers. Each was wide again as a small house (in Sabata) and at least twice as tall as a camel. Attached to the hull on a slender, metal shaft, the blades rested almost on the ground, secured in solid wooden blocks. Near the top and facing out the rear of a series of cabins were indeed a row of portals. They looked wide enough for a single albeit thin man to slip through without difficulty.
“The windows do not look open, Amica,†said T’kil quietly. “And, if they are, what assurance do we have that no one is on other side?â€
The airship loomed before them. It was a large vessel, even compared to its sea-going siblings. Judging from the cargo they had seen loaded into it earlier, the Scillus could hold that plus more. It would easily have room for two stowaways, should they find a safe way aboard.
The guard returned Amica’s smile even while she was nestled beneath her lover’s arm. She could see a glint of understanding in his eyes and he watched appreciatively as the pair passed. His gaze, though, only followed them briefly and returned to scanning the other citizens walking the streets. An airship was not a common site and there were still plenty of gawkers trying to get a glance before the vessel departed.
As Amica and T’kil approached the rear of the Scillus they received their first view of the great, twin propellers. Each was wide again as a small house (in Sabata) and at least twice as tall as a camel. Attached to the hull on a slender, metal shaft, the blades rested almost on the ground, secured in solid wooden blocks. Near the top and facing out the rear of a series of cabins were indeed a row of portals. They looked wide enough for a single albeit thin man to slip through without difficulty.
“The windows do not look open, Amica,†said T’kil quietly. “And, if they are, what assurance do we have that no one is on other side?â€
"We have none, T'kil," responded Amica, his concerns mirroring her own. If the windows behind Flying Machine could not be opened, then she would be forced to climb further up to the top of the vessel itself, and then she must slip past the walking sentry above. Thankfully his movements should alert her to his position, and the great size of Flying Machine might give her the space she would need to make good her infiltration. "I will sneak aboard and seek to open one of these windows now, as the light fades into night, T'Kil. Watch for the open window, for I will open it and you might join me then."
Quickly closing and fastening her desert robe around her chest, it's black colors strangely appropriate for such stealth, Amica waited until the shadows were perhaps deeper before she surveyed the peoples nearby. She would have to move quickly else she would be noticed from those on the ground, and she would have to move quietly such that she was not noticed from he who walked above. "You must hold Annuire for me, T'Kil. I must have my hands free," she declared finally, waiting for the moment to act.
And when it came...when the sounds of the sentry above were not to be heard and there were fewer people that might take notice of her, she would dart in, another shadow among those left by the growing night, seeking to reach the propellers of Flying Machine and conceal herself behind the wooden blocks that supported the blade first. She would check again for eyes following her before she would scale the propeller itself, her bare hands and thighs wrapped around it's length as she would push herself up to the deadlights above.
Quickly closing and fastening her desert robe around her chest, it's black colors strangely appropriate for such stealth, Amica waited until the shadows were perhaps deeper before she surveyed the peoples nearby. She would have to move quickly else she would be noticed from those on the ground, and she would have to move quietly such that she was not noticed from he who walked above. "You must hold Annuire for me, T'Kil. I must have my hands free," she declared finally, waiting for the moment to act.
And when it came...when the sounds of the sentry above were not to be heard and there were fewer people that might take notice of her, she would dart in, another shadow among those left by the growing night, seeking to reach the propellers of Flying Machine and conceal herself behind the wooden blocks that supported the blade first. She would check again for eyes following her before she would scale the propeller itself, her bare hands and thighs wrapped around it's length as she would push herself up to the deadlights above.
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Guest
"You are brash, Amica," said T'kil, biting back the urge to call her child. From time to time, he'd had to remind himself that this was Amica's quest and not his own. He had chosen to accompany her, even when she'd pushed him away. His admonishment could only go so far. Silently, he held out his hand to take Annuire and bade her to hurry.
"A better course of action," said T'kil to the wind as Amica slipped quietly behind the blades, "might be to cause a distraction."
He watched her meld into the shadows of the mechanism and survey the scene. He did the same, trying to appear inconspicuous as he monitored the guards' movements and listened for signs of alarms.
To Amica, watching was easier than listening. Her heart beat loudly in her chest as she crept into position next to the giant blocks. From her vantage point she could see T'kil and little else. Though, if she were to duck low, she would be able to see the boots of one of the sentries marching his route. Faintly, she could hear his footsteps as they completed their small circuit. They remained constant, not rushed, indicating he most likely had not seen or heard Amica's approach. His circuit would take him to the edge and back toward the ramp in less than a burn.
A single propeller blade stuck out at Amica's eye level, pointing at an upwards angle to her right. It was one of four and looked to be made of steel. For all her sensitivity to the Aether, Amica could not feel anything special about this part of the machine. It was mechanical in nature and driven from gear mechanisms within the ship's hull. A well timed leap and some long reaches would put Amica to within sight of the portholes. There she would be able to leap again to reach the deck or investigate whether the deadlights were open.
"A better course of action," said T'kil to the wind as Amica slipped quietly behind the blades, "might be to cause a distraction."
He watched her meld into the shadows of the mechanism and survey the scene. He did the same, trying to appear inconspicuous as he monitored the guards' movements and listened for signs of alarms.
To Amica, watching was easier than listening. Her heart beat loudly in her chest as she crept into position next to the giant blocks. From her vantage point she could see T'kil and little else. Though, if she were to duck low, she would be able to see the boots of one of the sentries marching his route. Faintly, she could hear his footsteps as they completed their small circuit. They remained constant, not rushed, indicating he most likely had not seen or heard Amica's approach. His circuit would take him to the edge and back toward the ramp in less than a burn.
A single propeller blade stuck out at Amica's eye level, pointing at an upwards angle to her right. It was one of four and looked to be made of steel. For all her sensitivity to the Aether, Amica could not feel anything special about this part of the machine. It was mechanical in nature and driven from gear mechanisms within the ship's hull. A well timed leap and some long reaches would put Amica to within sight of the portholes. There she would be able to leap again to reach the deck or investigate whether the deadlights were open.
It was a distraction that T'Kil would have, but Amica was not so certain. That would take precious, precious time to prepare, and she had it not. What would distract the guarrdi? she thought. She could try some fire...but she was not convinced the stone and mud buildings around the city would hold enough fuel to burn. She might also use her magics, but that might draw the wrong kind of attention. Instead, she would stick to her plan and hope for stealth. After all, even if the deadlights were closed, she might manage to open them with her knife, anyway...slipped between shutters, she might lift the latch and win her entry.
As the sentry drew near, Amica became still and silent. This was a very customary practice among the desert dwelling people, for nothing else would help in the open desert if they should encounter the unthinkable. That which was still was not often noticed, and while she waited for the guard to pass her over, she studied the great blade that drove the Flying Machine. No magic was to be found here, which gave her some confusion...she had seen it live and turn...but it appeared lifeless and inert. Perhaps it's magic is stored within? she guessed, checking to insure the great blocks held the blades in place such that they would not turn overmuch while she climbed them.
As soon as the sentry was passed...she would have perhaps a two burns or less...she would launch into action, leaping up to the propeller and pulling herself along it's length. She would climb up towards the point where all four blades came together, and from here she would climb to the higher blade, seeking to gain enough height quickly such that she would not be readily noticed from the ground. From this higher blade, perhaps she might test the deadlights? If the blade was too far from the rearward wall of the ship, she would have to jump aboard and sneak down to open them for T'Kil...a prospect that seemed more and more likely to her as she climbed, her hands and her thighs clamped tightly to the narrow metal blade.
As the sentry drew near, Amica became still and silent. This was a very customary practice among the desert dwelling people, for nothing else would help in the open desert if they should encounter the unthinkable. That which was still was not often noticed, and while she waited for the guard to pass her over, she studied the great blade that drove the Flying Machine. No magic was to be found here, which gave her some confusion...she had seen it live and turn...but it appeared lifeless and inert. Perhaps it's magic is stored within? she guessed, checking to insure the great blocks held the blades in place such that they would not turn overmuch while she climbed them.
As soon as the sentry was passed...she would have perhaps a two burns or less...she would launch into action, leaping up to the propeller and pulling herself along it's length. She would climb up towards the point where all four blades came together, and from here she would climb to the higher blade, seeking to gain enough height quickly such that she would not be readily noticed from the ground. From this higher blade, perhaps she might test the deadlights? If the blade was too far from the rearward wall of the ship, she would have to jump aboard and sneak down to open them for T'Kil...a prospect that seemed more and more likely to her as she climbed, her hands and her thighs clamped tightly to the narrow metal blade.
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Guest
The guard passed without incident and Amica stealthily made her climb. The metal felt strange and light against her fingertips. It was obviously expert ang ingenius workmanship. With two, quick leaps up the blade, Amica was eye level, though over an arm's length away, from the portal she sought.
There were four total portals, all with the shutters cracked slightly. They were small, circular openings with heavy, iron shutters on hinges. If she held her breath, Amica would be able to make it through the opening. She could hear no noise inside and, with the failing afternoon sun as her light, she could see little.
There were four total portals, all with the shutters cracked slightly. They were small, circular openings with heavy, iron shutters on hinges. If she held her breath, Amica would be able to make it through the opening. She could hear no noise inside and, with the failing afternoon sun as her light, she could see little.
Gauging the width of the window, Amica estimated it as adequate. She had always been a very lithe girl...thin almost to the point of emaciation...with her chest or her hips undoubtedly at risk if she could not squeeze through the hatch. But she estimated she might, if they were open and she could reach it...but to do so she must commit herself fully, for she must leap to it and climb through, without the help of the great blade upon which she had ascended.
Slowly, slowly, she drew her knife, an implement that would have been better classified as a sword. It was just under two feet in length, a respectable size though not so unbearable given Amica's typically tall countenance, a common trait among the People. Reaching out with the blade, she would carefully widen the crack between the two unusual shutters of the rearward hatch such that she could better navigate them when she committed to continuing forward. Slowly, slowly she would do this, moving each shutter patiently until the portal was opened completely and she could peer into the darkness beyond, a hopeless look given that she would undoubtedly see nothing but shadow.
She would replace her knife in it's sheath and then await the sounds of the sentry on the decks above her, her hammering heart thudding through her body as she awaited the next and most crucial step of her infiltration. She would insure that he was well away from her before she leaned out and pushed herself off of the propeller and on to the port's sill, a move that would commit her to climbing into Flying Machine. Maybe then she could turn back and await T'Kil, though no doubt the older shaman knew far more about moving unnoticed than she could ever understand.
Slowly, slowly, she drew her knife, an implement that would have been better classified as a sword. It was just under two feet in length, a respectable size though not so unbearable given Amica's typically tall countenance, a common trait among the People. Reaching out with the blade, she would carefully widen the crack between the two unusual shutters of the rearward hatch such that she could better navigate them when she committed to continuing forward. Slowly, slowly she would do this, moving each shutter patiently until the portal was opened completely and she could peer into the darkness beyond, a hopeless look given that she would undoubtedly see nothing but shadow.
She would replace her knife in it's sheath and then await the sounds of the sentry on the decks above her, her hammering heart thudding through her body as she awaited the next and most crucial step of her infiltration. She would insure that he was well away from her before she leaned out and pushed herself off of the propeller and on to the port's sill, a move that would commit her to climbing into Flying Machine. Maybe then she could turn back and await T'Kil, though no doubt the older shaman knew far more about moving unnoticed than she could ever understand.
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Amica’s blade slid the shutters open easily. The hinges had obviously been oiled; indications that even the smallest details were monitored on this vessel. Inside she could make out a dimly lit meeting or dining room of a sort for it had a long, narrow table surrounded by chairs. A large parchment lay outstretched on the table and strange metallic objects dotted the surface. Amica was not familiar with the devices she saw and had never seen furnishings quite of this style, yet it was easy to see this area of the ship was richly decorated.
Amica could hear the sounds of the sentry approach but as they neared to what she thought would be their closest, they seemed farther away than she had estimated. When the footsteps faded and she began her ascension of the propeller she realized why the steps had sounded different. Looking skyward, she could see that she had missed one level in her inspection of the ship. Above the shuttered windows and below the stern was the highly ornate railing of a balcony. The guard patrolled a full level above where Amica was attempting her entry.
The room beyond the portal was empty, quiet and seemed oddly inviting to the shaman turned sneak.
Amica could hear the sounds of the sentry approach but as they neared to what she thought would be their closest, they seemed farther away than she had estimated. When the footsteps faded and she began her ascension of the propeller she realized why the steps had sounded different. Looking skyward, she could see that she had missed one level in her inspection of the ship. Above the shuttered windows and below the stern was the highly ornate railing of a balcony. The guard patrolled a full level above where Amica was attempting her entry.
The room beyond the portal was empty, quiet and seemed oddly inviting to the shaman turned sneak.
Last edited by Guest on Wed Oct 19, 2005 4:25 am, edited 1 time in total.
This far she had been fortunate...and she knew she had been fortunate. The methodical steps of the sentry just overheard gave her to realize how close she had come to failure, for even a single glance...a single look...would ruin the advantage she had hoped to claim by entering Flying Machine unseen. I can only hope T'Kil will be so lucky, she thought, remembering the other shaman's great stealth from earlier. Great stealth was quite useful, but here it had been Amica's lithe, strong form that had brought her up the spinning blades and to the rearward window, and while T'Kil was certainly not feeble, he was not young, either.
Replacing her knife into her sheath so very carefully, Amica waited until the footfalls of the overhead sentry had receded well beyond the rear of the machine before she would commit herself to the gallery window, leaning out and catching the silk her her hands. She would slowly lower her body against the back of the Airship, held aloft by her hands upon the sill and reaching forward with one foot to control her body as she transferred from the blade behind her to the great form of the airship before her. She could wait then, waiting for the sentry above to pass if he drew near once more. If no sound of his movements came to her, she would raise herself up and into the hatch, slinking like a snake or a cat, remaining low and loose and pulling herself within the rearward cabin, crawling upon it's floor until she was fully within Flying Machine.
Replacing her knife into her sheath so very carefully, Amica waited until the footfalls of the overhead sentry had receded well beyond the rear of the machine before she would commit herself to the gallery window, leaning out and catching the silk her her hands. She would slowly lower her body against the back of the Airship, held aloft by her hands upon the sill and reaching forward with one foot to control her body as she transferred from the blade behind her to the great form of the airship before her. She could wait then, waiting for the sentry above to pass if he drew near once more. If no sound of his movements came to her, she would raise herself up and into the hatch, slinking like a snake or a cat, remaining low and loose and pulling herself within the rearward cabin, crawling upon it's floor until she was fully within Flying Machine.
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Amica climbed the great blade and stumbled but she quickly righted herself. The footfalls above had faded and did not return. For now, she was safe, and she slipped into the open window with little difficulty.
She found herself alone in an unlit room. Being closer to the table now, she could make out details of the large paper spread flat. She found she knew little of the guarrdi forms of art. On the paper were large, non symmetrical shapes crisscrossed by vertical and horizontal lines. Even with her rudimentary knowledge of navigation she knew it was a map.
The room was a gallery of some sort rather than a cabin. Three doors led out, two on either side of the opposite long wall and one in the shorter side wall. Intuition led Amica to assume the two doors on the long wall opened onto a deck or into passages alongside the sides of the vessel.
Surveying the room, her gaze fell on the window and out to the spot where T’kil had been standing moments before. He was gone. There had been no sound of a struggle, no yelling or warnings. The wise shaman was simply not there.
And, to further add to her concern, at that moment, she heard the gathering rumble of thunder. A storm from the sea had rolled over the city and large fat rain drops were giving the port city one its few tastes of water during the year.
She found herself alone in an unlit room. Being closer to the table now, she could make out details of the large paper spread flat. She found she knew little of the guarrdi forms of art. On the paper were large, non symmetrical shapes crisscrossed by vertical and horizontal lines. Even with her rudimentary knowledge of navigation she knew it was a map.
The room was a gallery of some sort rather than a cabin. Three doors led out, two on either side of the opposite long wall and one in the shorter side wall. Intuition led Amica to assume the two doors on the long wall opened onto a deck or into passages alongside the sides of the vessel.
Surveying the room, her gaze fell on the window and out to the spot where T’kil had been standing moments before. He was gone. There had been no sound of a struggle, no yelling or warnings. The wise shaman was simply not there.
And, to further add to her concern, at that moment, she heard the gathering rumble of thunder. A storm from the sea had rolled over the city and large fat rain drops were giving the port city one its few tastes of water during the year.
Last edited by Guest on Sat Oct 22, 2005 4:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
It did not happen often, but it did happen. In fact, the night of Amica's birth had been marked by a rare desert thunderstorm, one that brought water instead of sand, a precious event in the dry, endless desert. No doubt it must come more frequently here in City by the Great Water, but in the Hidden City of Tents, it was rare enough that she had been named after the rare event. Amica Tempestatis. Companion of the Storm. For it was with this she came to us, her father had said.
The storm would do well to mask their presence. It was a great omen indeed, and it would be very sensible for her to wait for a few moments to let the cloud break gather strength. If it did not send Flying Machine's sentries below, it would be a great advantage to them...but only if they moved quickly.
Blinking away the tears that threatened her anytime she remembered her precious father, Amica gazed down to find...no one. T'Kil had hidden himself or moved...and he had done so quietly. Amica could not bring herself to be concerned, for she would have heard something if he were challenged...and she saw no other activity below, such a group of guarrdi holding him hostage. No, it appeared as if he had concealed himself. Then I must show him the way when he might move, she thought, backing away from the open portal such that she might not be seen from outside. She left the window open wide, a silent signal to T'Kil that the way was clear.
If he might get this far and join me without detection, then we may succeed, hoped Amica. She could not imagine a greater distraction than the storm overhead, at least while it was still new....but something warned at her. Will they come to close the windows? she pondered, suddenly turning her attention to the doors. With that thought in mind, Amica quickly slipped quietly over to the third door, the one that did not lead forward as did the other two. Listening cautiously at this door for only a few moments, she would carefully attempt to open it, assuming that this door might lead to a smaller chamber wherein Sky Captain might sleep. It would be wise for her to have a place to hide if indeed they came to secure the rearward hatches from the coming deluge. The task also helped her keep her mind from T'Kil, for despite all her logic, she could not help but to feel great anxiety and concern for her mentor and lover.
The storm would do well to mask their presence. It was a great omen indeed, and it would be very sensible for her to wait for a few moments to let the cloud break gather strength. If it did not send Flying Machine's sentries below, it would be a great advantage to them...but only if they moved quickly.
Blinking away the tears that threatened her anytime she remembered her precious father, Amica gazed down to find...no one. T'Kil had hidden himself or moved...and he had done so quietly. Amica could not bring herself to be concerned, for she would have heard something if he were challenged...and she saw no other activity below, such a group of guarrdi holding him hostage. No, it appeared as if he had concealed himself. Then I must show him the way when he might move, she thought, backing away from the open portal such that she might not be seen from outside. She left the window open wide, a silent signal to T'Kil that the way was clear.
If he might get this far and join me without detection, then we may succeed, hoped Amica. She could not imagine a greater distraction than the storm overhead, at least while it was still new....but something warned at her. Will they come to close the windows? she pondered, suddenly turning her attention to the doors. With that thought in mind, Amica quickly slipped quietly over to the third door, the one that did not lead forward as did the other two. Listening cautiously at this door for only a few moments, she would carefully attempt to open it, assuming that this door might lead to a smaller chamber wherein Sky Captain might sleep. It would be wise for her to have a place to hide if indeed they came to secure the rearward hatches from the coming deluge. The task also helped her keep her mind from T'Kil, for despite all her logic, she could not help but to feel great anxiety and concern for her mentor and lover.
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Determining that all was quiet beyond, Amica pushed gently and the door slid open. It was unlocked and the hinges were oiled. Inside she found a small private cabin with a bunk next to the forward wall and a small desk with writing materials. A wardrobe stood to the side, doors open and revealing its contents. There were tall leather boots, blouses and dark trousers of style foreign to Amica. Most peculiar was a coat, tailored in the guarrdi fashion, made of heavy wool and died a deep blue. Strange buttons and ribbons decorated its front and odd cords hung around near the shoulders. It hung squarely over another out item that seemed out of place with the clothing; a long, thin saber in a well oiled scabbard.
Being wise to her precarious position, Amica heard the approaching steps with enough time to act. These were booted feet marching quickly on a deck the same level as her. Within only a flicker, they were at the door of the outer gallery and Amica heard a loud slam and sudden blustering of curse words. A man, angry by his tone, had burst into the room beyond.
Being wise to her precarious position, Amica heard the approaching steps with enough time to act. These were booted feet marching quickly on a deck the same level as her. Within only a flicker, they were at the door of the outer gallery and Amica heard a loud slam and sudden blustering of curse words. A man, angry by his tone, had burst into the room beyond.