19th-25th Day of Ascending Water, RY 768
En route

The Hammerhead's voyage has proven to be largely uneventful. The best kind of voyage--for those who prefer caution to adventure.

The crew has ample time to settle down from the days spent in Seahaven, which for the ex-corsairs were rather tense and trying. They have plenty of vitriol to say about First Captain Buruku in particular, and without the Wavecrest Guard near, their tongues are rather loose with it. Still, they appear to be in good spirits, particularly with the measure of rum Black Reed distributes to them now and then. The only exception is Hobnail, but Hobnail has been a nervous man for as long as the crew remembers, anyway.

Tethia spends a good amount of time alone, wandering the ship's corridors or gazing out to sea. She also spends some time with the implosion bow, familiarizing herself with its function. She does not speak of Kossuth at all, though apparently she has reclaimed some of his belongings for her quarters.

The last transmission the Hammerhead has gotten from the Jadira was on the 22nd. They were entering a treacherous island chain, they said, a misty region known as 'Nevermoor'. No word has come since.

---

OOC: You've had nearly a week of journey so if you did anything important then, post it now before I move on.

Soon after setting sail away from Abalone, Darel approached Treon with the possibility of summoning sorcerous adjuncts to their forces. The dreaded eristrufa could be bound to the sorcerer's will and actually of assistance in naval action. The beauteous wasps, the agatae, were also of use in scouting and transportation. And finally, the stomach bottle bugs, the repulsive sesseljae, aside from their disturbing appetites for wastes, were superlative surgeons.

In the first three nights after departure, Darel, covered at the critical time of the contest of wills by Treon, managed to easily bind an agata, but the eristrufa and the sesselja proved far more tiring, yet in the end the sorcerer's will prevailed, earning him three new demonic servants to be used to further the cause of the Cobalt Alliance.

Darel spent most of the remaining time in his cabin, meditating and recollecting as much data as he could on their destination, when he was not relaying the Dryad's message to Treon.

[OOC: in case there needs to be rolls regarding knowledge:

23:57, Today: Darel Arwan rolled 1 success using 6d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 4,2,9,5,3,3. Int+Lore.

Meh, I guess I should send Kathleen away, she must be distracting me too much ;)]
This message was last edited by the player at 00:17, Mon 19 Jan 2009.

As they had left Seahaven, on the first night, Treon had called all together--officers and crew--for a small meal, for luck for the voyage ahead and in part, to reward for the lack of trouble caused despite their less than ideal reception in the port they had just left.

Over the following days, Treon had continued his efforts to know both his crew and his ship.  He never pressed too much, was quite willing to back off, but on the other hand he seemed filled with a genuine desire to know.  Darel and Tethia were also included in this, and he was in turn willing to answer some of the questions about his past, though he was definitely vague about just why he was so far out here.  Hobnail was an special focus of his efforts, pressing less with him than with the others, instead trying to relax the man in his presence enough that someday soon, he would be happy to talk.

When he isn't talking with the crew, or navigating, or gazing out to the East, Treon spends some time meditating on the weather, tasting the air and other things normally alien to his Aspect until he can tell what every subtle flavour means for the coming day.
[Private to GM: General socializing, which may or may not need rolls, and learning Hurricane Predicting Glance, which he'll use daily from then on.]

Darel recalls very little of the small island of Nkiru. He knows that it is one of the westernmost islands still included as part of the Wavecrest nation. It is divided roughly into an eastern and western portion. The eastern side is more 'civilized', settled down, while the western people are more tribal in nature, full of superstitions and strange stories of Wyld and deep sea creatures. [Private to Darel Arwan: Hehe, it's all right. You'll have other opportunities to roll. And Kathleen may be useful! Though--were you ever going to summon other demons?]

Treon makes good progress with the men, though not all of them are so open with their pasts, or used to being social. By now he knows all of them by name, besides the dark-skinned man who serves as bosun, Black Reed, and the jittery but sharp-eyed lookout, Hobnail. Balio, Beetle, Jarvan, Ormi, and Tonsar are the strongmen. Crowfoot, Nine-Fingers and Sang are the nimblest, climbing topsail with ease, or squirming into tight spaces for repairs. Hailstorm and Zir are the best bowmen, equally suited to man the sailcutters.

Then there is Tethia. Of all of them, she is the most direct when it comes to asking Treon about his past. Of her own she says that she was not always a woman of the sea, that she was once an Easterner. She spoke of the ugliness of war and of people, though was not ready yet to be more than vague, either.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:05, Sun 18 Jan 2009.

26th Day of Ascending Water, RY 768
Dawn

Early the next day, Hobnail comes down from the crow's nest, scurrying about to find the Captain. "Land sighted s-sir," he says immediately upon finding Treon (or after pacing incessantly near his cabin if he's not yet awake).

The rest of the ship awakes with that knowledge passed on from crew member to crew member. With the dawn at their backs, the sailors on the Hammerhead look on toward the small island growing in the distance. It's not even close to as massive as the Abalone landmass, and a good portion of the island is devoted to sugar plantations, while the coast harbors tens of fisher and divers' boats. The port is not even a town, but a village with thatch-roofed huts, though there are a handful of larger, sturdier buildings among them.

Treon had not been pressing too hard with his questions, since it would hardly be fair to press too much when he was not willing to be similarly forthcoming.  He's glad though that he seems to have inherited a good cross-section of the original crew of the Hammerhead, with people to fill all the roles needed on a ship.  He isn't evasive of Tethia's questions, so much as shading his answers to before, or after, his departure from the Realm.

Treon had awoken only slightly after Hobnail had started his pacing, tending to rise early and sleep late most days.  "Thank you, Hobnail," he says with a nod.

As the crew breakfasts, one of the communal times on the vessel, Treon announces his plan.  "I have mind to put in at the port, take on some fresh water--although we're not running low--and to ask if they know anything of the fate of the expedition we have come to investigate.  I don't plan to stay here overlong, although it is possible we will end up staying overnight," though his voice made that sound unlikely.  He glanced up to the mast to make sure the Cobalt's flag was flying proud, glancing around for questions or comments from any of the assembled crew.

Darel listened to the plan, merely nodding his assent. His neomah, in human guise, could be helpful in loosing tongues...

"Your plan is sound," replies Black Reed as Treon announces the plan. "We can never be too sure with supplies, and the crew may rest easier among island natives than cityfolk. Cities do tend to remember... your past transgressions." The dark man's brows crease deeply at those words.

"Better not let them rest TOO well," Tethia remarks. Possibly referring to the crewmen developing an appetite for bedding island girls. "I have no complaints, though," she adds with a sharp nod.

The sun rises with the Hammerhead's arrival, setting the sea behind them awash in gold. Nkiru islanders have already begun to congregate at the shore, curious about the newcomers. They don't seem to have a regular coast guard, and the walls around the village serve more as delineations than any sort of fortified protection. Clearly they are used to peace, protected by the fact their island has had no particular significance or resource to make it appealing for visitors.

Until now, anyway. The discovery of Black Rock Chasm was still a recent one, but explorers and savants have already taken note, undoubtedly drawing traffic toward the humble port.

As the dock looms closer, the Hammerhead crew sees some of the local fishermen forming up -- either to help or to make a show of force, it's difficult to tell. Somewhat further behind is an entourage of a half-dozen spearmen and maidens in dyed cloth saris, surrounding a stout, elderly matron in ceremonial headdress. The maidens balance woven baskets between them that appear to be filled to the brim.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:06, Tue 20 Jan 2009.

Treon nods in response to the three who replied, glad he had their agreement at least.  He gave another look over the gathered crew, to see if others would speak up and then when it becomes apparent that there are none, he goes back to eating.

There was no need to do anything with the weaponry aboard ship, all of them covered in tarpaulins to protect against any unexpected weather, so they would not be sailing as a ship immediately armed for conflict.  Of course, should they be needed, it would be the work of seconds to cut traces and reveal them.

He directs the crew to slow the Hammerhead as she approaches, being sure to align himself with the centre of the port opening, wanting to be sure of getting the deepest water.  Not wanting to sail into their harbour unguided though, he waits until the small floatila has arranged itself and travelled out to reach them.

Once the elder and her entourage board, the flotilla is rowed toward the Hammerhead by the strong, able arms of the fishermen. It appears they wish the Hammerhead to stop; assuming the larger vessel complies, the elder's ceremonial vessel halts as well, so that the two are facing one another.

The older woman raises a hand, requiring silence. She utters something... too soft for anyone on Treon and Darel's vessel to hear easily. A strong-voiced maiden echoes the elder, so that all can know her words:

"Nkiru of the Sunset welcomes you, great and honored visitors." The words are fortunately in Seatongue... with a distinctive islander accent, but Seatongue nonetheless.

"I --" and the elder gestures to herself, though it is the maiden who speaks "-- am Elder Maha-suma. As of late we have had many guests, and are honored to be blessed by the presence of individuals of your caliber."

"May we inquire upon your visit to our humble island?"

Darel observed them silently, leaving Treon to do the official introduction. He and his neomah merely tried to see if anything appeared strange, the odd little detail...

[OOC: 11:08, Today: Darel Arwan rolled 2 successes using 3d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 8,5,7. Per+Investigation.
11:10, Today: Darel Arwan rolled 1 success using 3d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 1,7,4. Per+Investigation (neomah). ]

Treon had ordered the Hammerhead to stop, at least as well as a vessel of her size could stop when that had been made clear to them.

"Thank you for your greeting, Elder Maha-Suma," Treon says, his voice easily loud enough to carry over the water.

"I am Treon Fireblade and this is my ship, the Hammerhead" he said, with a gesture that encompassed the crew.  "We would like to put to port for a short while to take on supplies, mainly."

"Perhaps also we would like to speak with you about some of your other guests," he concludes, watching for their reactions to his statements.

The fishermen's poles hold the flotilla still while the maidens rest their burdens on the deck. The spearmen do not hold their weapons in an overtly hostile manner, but still keep them close and ready. [Private to Darel Arwan: Nothing seems outwardly amiss. You are pretty certain the baskets the women carry hold gifts of tribute: fruit and grains, likely. The men, you notice, discreetly carry blowguns with their belt knives. (BTW, next time you and your neomah roll the same dice pool, might want to do teamwork with her? She would add a die to your roll, then.)]

The maiden starts to whisper into the matron's ear, but Elder Maha-suma waves her off impatiently and begins to speak. Sentence by sentence, the young woman conveys her words: "Certainly we would be happy to accommodate you, Captain Fireblade, and your crew as well. We've little to offer, but will share with you what we have." At her direction, the women with the baskets bring forward their burdens, revealing baskets of island fruits, rice and flour. Treon's crewmen let out a general murmur of approval, both at the offered food and the women themselves.

"We will speak further of guests and other matters, if you would join me at my residence once you are settled in for the day." The fishermen begin to row backward now, guiding the Hammerhead toward the harbor.

[Private to Cathak Garel Treon: You get the feeling that these people do not want your ship to stay very long. They are being kind and generous, but it's less out of respect than it is out of a hope you'll leave quickly.]

"On behalf of my crew and the Cobalt Alliance I accept your offered gifts.  They are most definitely appreciated," he makes a grateful bow to the matron, before he straightened.  "It would be my pleasure to join you at your residence later," he says with a nod.

Then, the audience apparently concluded for the moment, he begins to shout out the orders needed to bring the Hammerhead into port, careful to stick to the fringe of the port, where the water is deeper and there is more room to manoeuvre.

That accomplished, his voice drops to address those close by him.  "Darel, once we have settled, I would appreciate it if you would accompany me to the Elder's residence.  You are trained as a diplomat, no?  This would seem to be your forte."

"Tethia, Black Reed," he nodded to the pair.  "I want one of you to remain with the Hammerhead whilst we are away and the other to look into water barrels.  Everyone else, I plan to leave here on the morning tide, so whilst I'm not going to keep you on here, don't stray too far.  And don't cut too loose, please.  Remember, we're here under Cobalt colours, so it's no longer just the ship you'd be affecting."

"Any questions?"

Darel cleared his throat, and replied: "I have only the most basic training in diplomacy, to be honest - despite their name, the Emissaries of Perfect Waters are more centered on the study of occultism than the finer arts of conversation."

[OOC: Presence 1, Socialize 1, I'm sure you've as much if not more than me due to Dynastic minimal education.]

Treon laughed a little, amused at something, quite possibly himself.  "Ah, that will teach me to make assumptions.  Well, I would still like you to come along, unless you think you can do more elsewhere on this island during our brief stay?"

[Private to Darel Arwan: Yeah, just a little more: Presence 5 (and adders), Socialize 4]

The cheers from before are converted into a disappointed "awwww..." when Treon mentions leaving with the tide.

"I will stay, Captain, lady." Far be it from Black Reed to keep Tethia from moving freely about the island. She was not his captain, but he still considers her a person of authority and power, given her Terrestrial birthright. "Please be careful."

Tethia nods quietly. She does not need to be told anything twice. The Water Aspect has her longbow slung across her back and watches the islander entourage with cool mistrust as they guide the Hammerhead to shore. (Of course, that is likely her most common expression, so it's not unusual... for her.)

"So the rest of us can have a bit o' shore leave, yeah?" Sang pipes up, speaking for the rest of the crew. The other men look expectantly to their captain, obviously excited to partake in what the island has to offer.

The Hammerhead is given leeway to dock as the islanders and their matron disembark. Elder Maha-suma utters some orders to her people and several of them break away, moving further inland on their tasks. The rest arrange the offered barrels on the pier for the Hammerhead captain and crew to inspect.

[Private to Darel Arwan: What will you have your demons do? I know Kathleen will follow you (as she should, since she'd get Limit for being idle). The others are at the moment dematerialized, but if you have any special orders, let 'em know.]

Darel and his demon remained close to Treon, letting him do the socializing, attentive to his gestures so that they would make no faux pas.

[OOC: I presume I will let the eristrufa around the ship, with instructions to materialize and attack if the natives decide to invade the ship (hereby defined as violently seizing the ship or its crew or willingly cause property damage, or some other accurate definition (English not being my native language, I'm not good at legalese) to avoid any misunderstanding).
The agata, I think I will have her flying above the village in case I need an emergency lift.
The sesselja can ride "in my flesh", healing me should I need it, or absorbing any poison I would be exposed to, with instructions to warn me discreetly if that were the case]

Treon nods his acceptance of the choice made between Black Reed and Tethia.  He then turns to the assembled crew.

"Yes, a bit of shore leave once everything is tidied away on here," he says with a nod, and a smile.  "As long as you remember that we are leaving with the tide tomorrow," he says, with a stern look that conveys more than just a need for caution over that, but a reminder of who they are sailing with now.

"Now, lets go and see what they have offered us, and then on to see the Elder Matron."

He walks down the gangplank, and over to the barrels.

[Private to Darel Arwan: All right, got it! :)]

"Aye aye, Captain," says Sang, with a smattering of echo around him. They do seem to mean it, though grudgingly, lingering to finish the docking process, bring the barrels in. At least some of them sneak further peeks at the maidens, as well.

The young women remain near, as do the Elder and a somewhat reduced contingent of spearmen. They all collectively watch as Treon comes with Darel and Kathleen to inspect the barrels. Tethia follows as well, pausing to lend her keen eyes to the task.

The Cobalt members see nothing unusual at all with the produce. The fruit is fresh, recently picked, so will have to be consumed or dried quickly. The flour and rice are reasonably clean, considering the haste with which they must have collected them from the granaries. There are even a couple kegs of rum, apparently a specialty in the area. Another smaller chest contains strings of cowries and other necklaces fashioned of shell and coral, nacre and pearl. [Private to Cathak Garel Treon: Worth a reasonable amount, all together. Res 2, maybe even 3, in the West anyway (the only place where cowries have any worth). This is a tribute meant either to appease you... or to bribe.]

"Please enjoy your stay," speaks the Voice of the Matron without further explanation, finally guiding the Elder away to her residence to prepare... whatever it is they will prepare. "We will speak again soon."

The maidens remain, smiling warmly and invitingly, offering to show the group around and fulfill whatever pleasure they may ask for.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:36, Wed 28 Jan 2009.

"I look forward to our visit," he says with a respectful nod to the departing matron.

Treon, after he finishes his inspection, helps the men carry the things aboard, quickly organising the work so that it's completed in the minimum amount of time and fuss, with everything stowed away that should be stowed.  At least one of the barrels of fruit is left on the deck (and in the shade) for all to eat from.  After that, he smiles winningly to one of the maidens.  "Could I ask you to walk us around the town, please?" he asks, voice warm.  "At least until the Elder Matron is ready."

Then with a nod to the crew, he departs with Darel.

Darel followed Treon, with his shapeshifted neomah in tow. He felt a bit uneasy with the sesselja swimming through his flesh, but knew that the spirit's potent healing and cleansing abilities could save his life. He had clearly instructed it not to let an eyestalk - or any other limb, for that matter - out of his skin.

Besides, if the islanders had anything to hide and things got out of hand, he could whistle for his agata to materialize and lift him and Treon off their reach (his neomah would simply have to dematerialize and hold on to the other demon).

The walk is quite pleasant, actually... nothing much strange or unusual occurs, unless the maidens' excessive generosity could be put into suspicion. Some of them drift off with other Hammerhead crewmen, while the one called out by Treon follows along. It would have been two, but Kathleen is decidedly adamant about staying as close to Darel as possible, and so the maidens leave him be.

"My name is Aranita," the dark-haired beauty next to Treon introduces herself demurely. "And our village is called Umai."

The village is not a very large one. She shows them around to the main square, where their largest fountain is, as well as their modest market and the artisan's row. Much like in Wavecrest, their crafters and merchants are all women. They have a smithy, a carpenter. Weavers and tailors, dyers and jewelry-crafters. Bakers as well, the sweet, delicious smell of their wares wafting temptingly from open windows.

Textiles and small crafts to be their strong suit, and of course produce, both harvested fruits and from agriculture. The fields surrounding the village are largely grains as well as sugar... a luxury, in many parts of the world. The sugar cane fields also explain why they seem to have a great abundance of rum.

As they walk, though, most of the other villagers watch them guardedly. The children are too young to be worried, and their mothers herd them away as the Terrestrials pass. Aranita seems unconcerned, though, chatting animatedly about this or that landmark to fill up time, moving Treon and Darel and Kathleen along before they can linger too long in one spot.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:25, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

Treon wonders a little at the strange, and beautiful, woman that was Darel's companion.  She seemed so oddly possessive of him at times.  But then, she might be a spirit of some kind, or even a demon, after the summoning he had seen... he gave a little shake of his head.

"Hello, Aranita," Treon says with a charming smile for the dark-haired woman beside him.  "Please, then, show us around Umai," he gestures onwards.  As she shows them around, Treon finds complimentary things to say both about the village and about her, looking around him as he is shown, trying to get a feel for the place as they pass the time.  "Have you had many visitors recently?" he asks her, when they've been walking for a while.
[Private to GM: Trying to charm and dazzle her into being talkative about things.  He's willing to spend motes on the Presence Excellency to do so, for 4 extra dice. for 13 (or 15 if his coat counts) dice + stunt]
This message was last edited by the player at 01:11, Mon 02 Feb 2009.

While Darel and Kathleen continue to trail behind, Treon works his charm on Aranita, who flushes and flusters in response. Clearly she's never been so privileged by the company of such a handsome, well-dressed ship captain before -- an effect only multiplied by the fact he seems to read her moods just so, knowing exactly what to say to warm her heart and do away with her misgivings. She starts fidgeting daintily with her sari, unconsciously brushing at her hair as if to make sure it's falling down her shoulders just so.

"Oh, w-well... Mister Fireblade, sir..." The impromptu tour has stopped for the moment at a high point in Umai the villagers call 'Prayer Hill'. Here is the best view of the sunrise, which has progressed above the waterline, still spreading its glorious rays across the gently rolling waves. There is a small shrine here, but its doors are shut tight, and no priests or priestesses wander the ground.

Aranita gazes down bashfully, her eyes trained on her fingers. "Well you see, our island is called 'the Gateway to the Far West'. So yes, we have visitors, though I do not know they are 'many'. Those who do come like to sight-see, or come to trade. Sometimes they are adventurers -- explorers. Or monks. They often come here from the mainland to convert us, but we... we enjoy our faith the way it is." Her glance shifts to the shrine, briefly, then down again.

"Then came the Dragon God. Some call him the False Dragon God." The girl's voice is hushed. "He came from deep beneath the sea. And he bewitched the western village of Tekai to worship him. Now we are pressed in between the mainland faith and... and this new God... and it's made everyone worried about visitors."

"But... they keep coming. Ever since that woman with the red hair. The one they say disappeared. Elder Maha-suma is uneasy, for the island has gotten much attention at a time we'd... rather not have it... but oh, oh! I'm talking entirely too much..."

---

OOC: Treon rolled 9 sux so this girl is spilling a lot of info. Poor thing. :D She wouldn't be a match for Treon in an extended social battle, so, figured she may as well say what she knows!
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:54, Mon 02 Feb 2009.