With a side glance to his neomah, Darel, looking as if he was once again lost in thought, unconspicuously raised his hand to hide his smile... Ah, the benefits of chaperoning...

"They have indeed, Elder Matron," Treon replies.  "Once more, thank you for your hospitality."

When the speaker announces the choice Aranita has made, it is not exactly unexpected, given her new dress and so instead of looking dismayed or even surprised, he instead smiles at the woman.  "I suppose you had best come aboard then, Aranita, if you are sure.  The Black Rock Chasm will likely not be the most dangerous things you will encounter if you do choose to travel with us," he speaks, to caution her.  Not that he expects her to be deterred, but he felt it fair to warn her.  He couldn't refuse to sail into danger because she was onboard.

Why is it always the ones with black hair? he wonders, as she starts to climb aboard despite his warning. "I will do my best to keep her safe," he tells the elder matron and her speaker.

Once Aranita is aboard, Treon turns to his crew, now finally all assembled and introduces all the new passengers to the crew, and then turns to Black Reed.  "Please, cast off when you're ready, Black Reed."

"I... I understand, Mister... I mean, Treon." Aranita flushes at being so personal with his name in public, but he had told her to call her that, after all. "I may be naive about the world, but I am prepared to learn, and to be faced with dangers beyond my imagining. I have chosen this," she asserts.

Aranita is the last to climb the gangplank onto the Hammerhead, after Hera and her two male assistants. The group aboard the large vessel is a rather eclectic one, now, and Treon's crewmen eye the newcomers with a mix of trepidation, interest and... for some... even desire. Aranita and Hera in particular are attractive women, after all, and not cold and Dragon-touched like Tethia.

Tethia herself frowns slightly as she eyes Aranita, but says nothing.

"Right away, sir," says Black Reed to Treon's command, and directs the crew to raise the gangplank and cast off the mooring lines while the captain takes his rightful place at the helm.

The wind fills the sails, bearing the Hammerhead away from the comfort of Nkiru and toward the Chasm they seek.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:24, Tue 10 Mar 2009.

During the short sea journey, lasting but a single day, Darel receives a message via cherub from Jadira. [Private to Darel Arwan: Jadira informs you that the Dryad is resting at the island of Auragik, four days away from Seahaven. They had a major combat with the Lintha, and since then have gained some allies who wish to pursue and destroy a dark Lintha artifact nearby. She asserts that they still plan to meet with the Hammerhead in An-Teng, as their detour will make up for the fact the Hammerhead is currently further west than them.] He has the rest of the day to send his message back to her before they are to move on.

Darel consulted with Treon, sharing with him the contents of the message. [Private to Cathak Garel Treon: It appeared the Dryad had had a violent run-in with the Lintha on their way to An-Teng, and were resting on the island of Auragik, four days away from Seahaven. "Apparently, they want to destroy a Lintha artefact of darkness. They will meet us in An-Teng. What message should I send back?"]

Treon considered for a few moments, and then spoke to Darel.[Private to Darel Arwan: "Tell them that we'll reach the Chasm tomorrow, that we think it is a Pelegial outpost.  Mention that we picked up help.  Wish them luck in their coming battle."]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:04, Fri 13 Mar 2009.

28th Day of Ascending Water, RY 768
Around Noon

When the Hammerhead reaches the area known as 'Black Rock Chasm', it almost seems to be a footnote on the horizon.

At first glance, the area looks rather unimpressive, easily mistakable for any typical region one would come across in the deep West. An assemblage of rock massifs jut out of the sea like uneven teeth arcing over a straight lip, their sharp and scraggy surface polished smooth in parts by the ebb and flow of the tide. Nothing in particular would signal the presence of anything out of the ordinary, if one was only to peer at the rock formation from a distance. But then, as the ship proceeds closer, a feeling of dread and uneasiness replaces the feeling of familiarity one might have while looking at the scenery.

As the Hammerhead makes its approach, those who pay attention slowly realize that the color of the sea itself is changing. Rather than the pleasant blue-green so familiar to big expanses of sea, the waters seem to darken with the approach, until it has turned a dull transparent black. It still retains the appearance and feel of water, but its color makes it difficult for the rays of the sun to penetrate inside. It is not so opaque as oil, but it certainly seems to conceal some of what might lay within...

From calculations, the rock massif that breaks the surface of the water is actually much bigger underwater. Those trying to evaluate its mass would immediately realize that it stretches much further than their eyes can see, and that its sheer volume is akin to a whole mountain, likely stretching from the ocean floor up to this point. Past that, however, those on board can glean nothing of the organization or composition of the structure below.

As much as the prospect might not enchant the group, it would seem that the only way now lies in going to explore the complex itself... And thus decide on a way they can efficiently function underwater.

With only an hours rest since the voyage began, the Amiliki-King still looks surprisingly well rested, Thick blue-smoke puffs in slow, regular intervals from his lips as he clasps his glass pipe between them. He toils on the deck of the vessel, in the wind and the spray of the sea. A smoothly worn mortar and pestle in hand, he slowly crushes the still-wriggling bodies of several dozen tiny black-shelled crabs into the bowel. They crack and mash together into a gritty paste that smears around the bottom of the bowl. Seated on Hanuman's over-turned head, around his feet are tiny clay jars with powdered coral and coconut milk, a bushel of freshly pulled tube-reeds, a wooden box filled with hundreds more minuscule crabs, and a pot of blue squid ink.

This task is as much improvisation as knowledge. In his lands, there were half a dozen formulas that let a man breath under the ocean waves. You could not endure without one. He has found none of the ingredients to make those he knows however, so works instead with what knowledge and instinct tell him at least should serve the purpose he needs.

And if they do not, at least none of them were deathly poisonous.

It was also a task that their noonday arrival makes clear he may not have the opportunity to finish. The Amiliki sets aside his tools and rises as the boat glides closer to Black Rock Chasm.

"A most unnatural and villainous appearing place," he says to no one in particular, looking down towards the looming darkness. "Were it a night's sky so black, t'would burn men of wicker to appease the ill spirits who would be drawn out. Mayhaps a sacrifice should be given to the gods of this place."

"Considering some of the tales told of the Pelegials, I'm not sure if that isn't the problem ..." Treon remarked.  He knew little of the ways of gods, though.  "This is a place of ill omens," he remarks from his place behind the wheel of the ship.

"But into it we must sail," he says, his voice lifting with fire and passion, encouraging all those who would sail with him.  As he spoke those words, he reached out with his Essence, activating the Fine Passage Negotiating Style, feeling all out all the hidden reefs and shoals that might tear his ship, gaining a sense of how far down the massive extends, too.

"Reef the sails," he shouts out, not wanting to sail in here at full speed, easing the ship through the rocky maze with a deft hand on the wheel and a perfect feeling for what lay beneath.
[Private to Raconteur; Storyteller: 20:50, Today: Cathak Garel Treon rolled 6 successes using 10d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 2,1,10,8,5,8,8,6,6,7. negotiating chasm. +2 sux from sail ex.

So, that's 8 successes total, plus an from a stunt if you award it. (if you do, please let me know, for motes)]

Darel, flanked by his neomah, eyed the waters with a detached countenance. "An interesting phenomenon, to say the least," he said. "Captain Treon," he turned to speak to the other Dragon-Blooded, "I would think this is a good opportunity to materialize my two bound servants, namely the agata, and the eristrufa. Perhaps you should speak a word to your crew and reassure them as to my mastery of those two disquieting but most useful creatures?"

Hera spends the majority of her trip looking over every inch of the ship that she could. The small fishing boat she sailed out on is the state of the art vessel for her people. This vessel is beyond what she could ever imagine. Anything she could bring back would advance her people greatly. She smiles cordially to all the crew that are around.

Looking out with the others, she smiles at the harsh terrain ahead. "Courage my friends. The terrain we face fierce, but as has been spoken, we must venture forwards. My eyes have never glimpsed anything so black, not in Home, not in the chaotic storms that led me here. I take solace in the fact that men of strong character stand by my side. We shall confront it all together."

The Dragon King spends the majority of the short cruise skittering along on all fours on the hull of the ship, from the waterline to the railing. He clings like an oversize gecko alongside the figurehead as he stares into the inky waters of their destination. He hopes the Dragon Bloods have brought some method of piercing the darkness below. He had swam in the deep seas before, where the Sun's touch doesn't reach, and doubted the light penetrated very far in these black waters.

He also wishes he had had opportunity to delve deeply enough into his memories to 'remember' how to enhance his sense of smell. At least his hearing could help compensate in the dark waters. Somewhere deep inside him, a predator licked its lipless teeth in anticipation of the beasts to be conquored below.

Tomistoma puts such prehuman urges aside as he poked his head up over the railing. His wide crocodilian head moves from one side to the other as his eyes scanned the deck, unaware of the discomfort he caused in most humans. "Well said, Grandchild of the Sun." He hisses. "In an earlier Age, each of our peoples, Dragon King, Dragon Blood, and Scions of the Chosen worked together to safeguard all of Creation." His dull eyes seem to take in more ranks than those standing on the deck as flashes of memory, barely sensed and even less understood, flicker in his mind. "Although our ranks have thinned, our challenge remains the same. And our resolve must remain as strong."

A reptilian, hissing chuckle escaped the Dragon King's mouth, "Indeed, the cycle seems to have truly turned, returning Creation to a state not seen since before Humanity walked its fields: Creation has need of taming."

"Would they not be better kept dematerialized, and so offer a better surprise when called upon?" Treon questions, not exactly sure of the capabilities of the demons.  "Besides, I'm not entirely sure how the Pelagials would react to such things," he carries on, although he isn't committed to this course.

The mention of the Sun caused a small twitch on Treon's face as he steered the ship into the chasm, feeling out beneath the waves for the safe paths through the treacherous waters.

"A sorrowful state of being," Indrid nods in answer to Tomistoma, not sharing the Dragon-King's evident reveling of such a fact. He continues to watch the darkness slither around the ship with wary eyes. "Yet I may say with certainty that danger tis the natural sweat of the world. Even in mine own lands, with the Shogun's hand around us, much is asked of the individual."

He pauses, then smiles. "Truth, I know not what drives those present here to seek this place. Tis is noble intentions and heroic deeds or more gainful a journey? One might say there are few greater blessings upon a land than to be visited by those of both heroes heart and mercenary intention."

"Mmmh well, what you're saying bears consideration," Darel replied to Treon. "Taking on a physical shape is very draining for them though, and not a good strategy to be used in an emergency. The agata could help us scout the surroundings very quickly - if properly rested, they can even open a gate of sorts that enables instantaneous travel between two points miles distant. The eristrufa can stay immaterial now - it would be best brought up if things go awry with the pelagials."

Captain Treon's steady hand and keen eye manage to guide the Hammerhead safely across the dangerous maze of reef and rock beds - no small task in and of itself. The crew responds to his orders quickly and precisely, reffing the sails when asked and slowing the ship enough for it to come to a stop in a desirable position above Black Rock Chasm. [Private to Cathak Garel Treon: You were awarded a +2 stunt for your efforts, if you want to use it for motes or willpower recovery.]

From this position, Treon can get an even better feel of the sheer scale the structure has. Standing at a vantage point, he can observe as a stray ray of the dying sunlight seems to strike the water softly, illuminating more of the structure below... And once it happens, he is almost struck by vertigo.

Like a giant black tower engulfed by the western ocean, Black Rock Chasm extends triumphantly towards the ocean floor, its massive rounded form peppered with dark holes - presumably doorways into the complex itself, a form of water circulation, or both. Jagged spires sprout from the main structures like wicked rock spikes, eerily resembling claws outstretched towards the faint light, and ready to crush those who would foolishly venture within the depths. Caught in some of those rocky outcroppings, rotting masts and sails, torn ships carcasses and cargo innards lie coldly, a silent warning sign to those who would brave this unfamiliar territory. Despite this macabre spectacle, no signs of life can be seen from this point either.

Defiantly, the Hammerhead is now above the underwater complex, proudly braving the outstretched 'teeth' that mark out the highest point of the structure.

The only way to go from here... is down.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:31, Wed 18 Mar 2009.

Looking at her fellows, "So my companions, I can hold my breath for a few minutes. I doubt I would be able to reach to bottom of this undersea room. Do any of your capabilities exceed mine in this respect?" She begins to tready herself to enter the water, stripping off layers of clothing, leaving only the minimal amount of cloth to remain modest. The garmets she discards she merely drops to the deck. Her complexion is even more white with the additional exposed flesh. She is pale as chalk lacking every nuance of tan skin that is usually prevalent in this direction. Despite the paleness, she doesn't look sickly. Instead her body is athletic and well muscled. She pulls on her golden chainmail gloves on strapping them onto her golden bracers leaving both forearms completely clad in Orichalcum. "I am ready to dive when you are."

Darel let the sleeve of his ample shirt glide off of his left forearm as he raised it, displaying the blue jade bracers. A gem, like perfect blue water given solid shape, was inset in a socket in the middle of the artifact. "This hearthstone enables me to duplicate the abilities of the scions of Danaa'd, and move freely underwater. Sadly, being far from my manse, it would be useless to any of you."

[OOC: Could Kathleen take on the shape of a water breathing humanoid/mutant and accompany me while materialized?]

Tomistoma crawls over the railing onto the deck, rising to his feet and his nearly seven foot height. "I am fine for at least an hour, which should be sufficient if there are periodic pockets of air as we have been told." His cloak of leaves now covers him like a suit of armor, the long, kelp-like leaves overlapping like the scales of a fine set of mail. Each leaf is outlined and stitched in place with threads the same brilliant gold as Hera's bracers, a pair of which also adorn the Dragon King's wrists, one of which holds a murky blue-black stone.

"What accomodations have we for those who are less adept beneath the waves?"

"I am nearly completed in mine efforts to concoct some manner of formula from what was offered of Umai's larders," says Indrid, already returned to his labors over the loose assemblage of alchemical tools and ingredients. Having spent the whole of the night before and most of this morning in preperation, all that remains is the mixture and the testing. The last of the tiny crabs crushed into a paste within the bowl, he picks up the reeds and a slender bladed knife.

Creatures of the tides...

Slicing open the tube-shaped reeds, he squeezes a gooey clear liquid out into the bowl. These, among the few plants he recognizes from home, grew anywhere there was water - fresh or salt, they cared not.

That which lives in all worlds...

Breaking the waxy seal atop one of the jars of powdered coral, he spills the crimson dust into the bowl as well. Bones of the Sea, they were. Neither alive in any fashion mortal man would know it, yet never truly dead...

That which lives in none...

Another jar, this one dribbling the milky juice of a coconut into the bowel. He stirs the concoction together slowly, the liquid mixing it together into a graying ooze.

Essence of that which knows no home but land...

Lastly, he takes the pot of ink and unceremoniously scrapes his bizarre mixture in. With one of the empty reeds, he stirs it slowly, dumping more of the coconut milk in as he does so. It was not what he wanted, not the blood of a sea creature, yet he hopes will serve enough as an association to bring about the proper reaction.

Essence of that which knows no home but sea...

Finally, satisfied that it is as blended as he can make it, Indrid lifts the pot to his nose and sniffs. His nose wrinkles only just. "Tis not the most rank of brews I've ever the ill fame to produce, yet I do suspect t'will be no pleasure to partake of."

Standing, he begins to strip out of his clothing. Like Hera, he removes as much that modest will allow. "I shall ask none before me to risk it's effects. A moment within the water shall suffice. Master Treon, if I may please beg a length of rope and a strong back to pull upon it. Should this prove a poison, I should desire thou art certain of my demise before casting me to a watery burial."

[OOC: Okay, loooooong post and apologies for that. Attempting Alchemy stunt to basically make a water-breathing potion from scrap.]

Treon nodded to the man.  "Call it forth then, after I speak with the men.  If it can stop people sneaking up on us in here, at least on the surface, it will be very useful." Though I expect most of the danger to come from below.

Demons, grandchildren of the sun, lizards from before humanity?  Things used to be simpler ... he thought, before he turned to look at his crew, after nodding to acknowledge the speeches from Hera and Tomistoma.  "We have more than that on our side, too.  Darel is a sorcerer of some power.  He has summoned forth creatures to serve him, and however disquieting they might look, they are under his control.  I have watched the ritual myself." Which was quite the oddest thing I've seen in a while.

He nodded to Darel, giving his permission.

"As for our destination, down in the depths," he looked to Hera.  "We have a small supply of what is known as 'Maruera gum', a gift from our friends in the Tya.  It should allow us to breath down there for as long as Tomistoma or Indrid should be able to manage with their own methods."A glance to Indrid suggested that the gum could be spared for him too, if he is so unsure of his own work, but that it was up to him.  He looked then to Tethia.  "I would not like to leave the Hammerhead entirely without an Exalt on board, although it is your element that we would be travelling in.  You are your own woman, however."

He started to undress himself, the better for swimming, revealing a very toned physique, taking a moment to bind his hair tighter before he straps his Daiklaive  across his back.

"We shall descend after Indrid has tested his alchemy," he says, looking around for dissenting opinions.

Darel nodded at Treon's assent, and, turning to port, immediately spoke in Old Realm: "Jjarialdenmeoas, I urge you to take on a material shape!" he told his agata, which materialized in a puff of smoke; the translucent creature of surreal beauty hovered portside of the Hammerhead. The impossibly large insect landed on the ship's deck, carefully avoiding entangling its wings into the various ropes and sails.

Darel stepped forward, patting the creature'back like he would a horse's. "Everybody, say hello to Jim!" he cheered.


"Jim can carry up to two fully armored men, in a flight sustained by magic. It is quite safe even for those unused to riding a mount. So who wants to give flying a try?" He winked at his companions.

[OOC: No control rating or minimum Ride is given AFAIK, so I guess its Landscape Travel makes up for any deficiency in its rider(s), if the STs agree to that of course ;)]
This message was last edited by the player at 19:56, Sat 21 Mar 2009.

Tomistoma puts one crooked leg over the side of the rail. "I shall make sure the waters around the ship are safe and assist in Indrid in the testing of his concoction." He says an instant before he splashes into the dark waters, descending a fathom or so and looking in all directions before rising back to the surface. The Dragon King floats there, only his nostrils, eyes, and the ridges along his back and tail breaking the surface.


[Private to Raconteur: Using Clarity from Clear Air Path to look around with hearing and sight enhanced the same as the Solar charm Keen Sense Technique. Total of 7 successes with the +2 from the charm
11:01, Today: Tomistoma rolled 5 successes using 6d10 with the White Wolf Exalted system with a target of 7 with rolls of 10,10,2,3,8,6. Per+Awareness.]

Tethia glances at Treon, showing no sign of reaction to the captain (or anyone else, at that) baring skin. After considering his words, she replies, "No, Captain, I think you are correct. I've no problem with watching the ship. If anything goes wrong, I and Black Reed will both be on hand to act."

The crewmen of the Hammerhead actually look a little disappointed that they can't come along for the swim. Black Reed clears his throat and addresses Captain Treon as well. "How long do you expect to be below water? You may wish to leave some of the gum with us, in case it is necessary for us to pursue you. We have several strong swimmers among the crew." A couple of the crewmen perk up at hearing that, particularly Balio and Ormi, who are poorly hiding the fact that they're ogling Hera.

Aranita stands to one side, quiet, but intently watching the goings-on. She is quiet more often than not lately, absorbing every new experience with silent wonder and a depth of curiosity. One of the strongmen, Iron Beetle, sidles up to Aranita as she gazes down at the blackness of the sea near the Chasm. She shakes her head slightly, and takes a few steps away, but the man doesn't pursue her.

Hera's men, Ferio and Silas, ask Hera whether they are to remain behind, as well. Ferio seems to have taken a liking to Aranita and keeps one eye on Beetle in the meantime.

Indrid's efforts are focused and dedicated, and after a little while of peering over his vials and jars, his mixture is completed. His initial calculations seem even exceeded by the result, and although he has yet to test the potion, he is already enthusiastic about the result. The mixture looks unstable and uncertain at first, but once it cools down, everything falls into place - sediments dissolve homogeneously, leaving the concoction a deep, clear blue. [Private to Indrid Cold: Congratulations, you've scored -11- successes on this roll - which means you've managed to develop a stable recipe that you will be able to reuse (and can name how you want). The stats for it will be (in the usual formula format) 2, Intelligence, 3, 1 Hour. For the duration (3 hours), you will be able to breathe perfectly underwater. You still will have to swim normally, but you will be able to breathe water as a native would.]

Meanwhile, Tomistoma takes his plunge to scout ahead, in order to observe what the group would be dealing with, casting his senses all around him to try to help himself get a better view of the surroundings. It takes a short while for him to get his eyesight to compensate for the blurry environment and the blackness of the water, but once it is done, he gets a pretty good image of the top of Black Rock Chasm.

The tremendous rock would have a conical shape, if it was widening consistently. Instead, it descends sharply down the depths, reaching a rock 'platform' before descending more abruptly once more. From what the Dragon King can tell, the pattern seems to repeat itself at more or less regular intervals, making it likely that the structure was shaped in this fashion by the Pelagials themselves. Whether it is for increased security or a more mundane reason, Tomistoma cannot tell, because he cannot see a single living being at this level, although there could be some further down, past the rocky 'platform'... But to see this far, he would need to separate himself considerably from the others.

Fortunately, the scouting is not fruitless - the Dragon King can readily spot the top entrances into the Chasm - three openings set around the roughly circular outcropping that serves as a platform. One of the three is likely a some sort of supply entrance, taller and wider than the other two. The only worrying part is that as far as can be seen from there, no guards are patrolling in front of any of these entrances.

[Private to Darel Arwan: There is no problem with your interpretation of Landscape Travel, either, so consider this approved. :)]
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:30, Sun 22 Mar 2009.