He shrugs, raising his hands, "Oh, I don't have any plans to travel out across the plains!  I was simply interested, as I had heard you had traveled out that way, and stories of Beastmen packs being spotted along the borders."  He looks to Aalistair, "Rajans, you say?  That is remarkable indeed.  I wonder what Rajans would want with Beastmen?"

J'landria shrugs.
"Unknown, but I think it is not very good either way."

She looks at the men, then at the gnomekin.

"I apologize, I am not... I am not good at chatting.  This is my first time being with men," she says while indicating all the races of men on the ship, completely unaware of what she's said.

"Me too!" he exclaims, a big smile on his innocent face.

The windship travels on, and in the morning of 45 Zar, reaches its destination, a small mesa city in Sindar along the Dead River.

The stop could be as brief as it takes to let the passengers disembark, but Zosha would like to stay for a couple of hours to see if there might be any merchant opportunities.  Others are welcome to stay or disembark as they wish, provided they are back at noontime.

Athellin can be seen shuffling his Zodar deck, and appears to be readying to take a short leave into the city.

Aalistair stops Athellin. "Tell me, traveler. Can you cast your cards to divine what minor fates Aa may have planned for us in this city?"

After waving farewell to the gnomekin, she spots Athelling and Aalistair. J'landria approaches, standing behind Aalistair and watching what Athellin is doing as well.

Deftly flipping his cards, Athellin shuffles, and flips out two.  The Charlatan, and the green moon, Phandir.  He frowns.  "There is some deception being fostered, part of a greater mystery.  Somehow, our recent passengers are involved."  He shrugs, "perhaps I might reconsider my visit to the city."  He smiles, "or perhaps not."

Aalistair grunts in response, shaking his head. "Well... they're off the ship now, so I guess it makes no matter." He looks from J'landria to Athellin. "If you'll excuse me."
He heads off, feeling uneasy. To pass the time in port, he moves around the ship, looking for anything that might be amiss.

---

Aalistair rolled 15 using 1d20+1. Conveyance.
Making sure the Fate is ship-shape. There's probably some sort of downward modifier for this on the off chance there is something wrong.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:09, Thu 26 May 2011.

J'landria heaves a sigh and nods as Aalistair walks off, she then moves to look over the city for a moment.

"If you go into the city Athellin," she says, half turning to face him.  "May I join you?"

In reply to J'landria (msg #108):

Mirna will spend the time they are docked watching the dock, to ensure no one unsavory attempts to come aboard.

Wraith considers seeking out Nas Nasri, his errant friend, but thinks better of it and remains aboard the vessel.  Although this is not the first time that Nas has vanished without warning, it always makes Wraith uneasy.  "Perhaps Satada got him," Wraith smiles and shakes his head.  "It is far more probable that he succumbed to the blandishments of a young lady courtesan, somewhere during his travels."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:43, Thu 26 May 2011.

In reply to J'landria (msg #108):

He smiles at the young Jaka and nods.  "Of course, you may join me.  And any others that might want to come along." 

He gets his things together, and prepares to follow the already departed Kasmiran.

Aeletheros remains on the ship as he really doesn't have anything he needs to do off ship and he is lacking in the requisite funds anyhow. He manages his time by checking over the ship's systems, rigging, and other necessary things for smooth flying. If any crew are around he will also continue to instruct them on the finer points of windship piloting.

In reply to Aeletheros (msg #112):

Mirna listens to Aeletheros' commentary on the ship with half an ear - her attention is definitely more focused towards the safety of the 'ship.

The first part of the night passes quietly, a light breeze stirring in the rigging, rocking the windship lightly against the anchor ropes.

As midnight draws near, a great howling wind comes up, buffeting the ship, straining against the ropes.  It blows then ebbs, sometimes sounding like shrieking, and sometimes it seems almost to whisper to you as you awake from fitful sleep.

Aalistair awakens and almost immediately begins to pray. He kneels on the deck, eyes closed, hands clasped in begging supplication.

Aeletheros sits up in bed and casts his eyes about the room, looking for residual magic auras from the strange wind and whispering. He resolves to speak with his crewmates about this in the AM as well as meeting with Athellin for a reading.

OOC: 10:21, Today: Aeletheros rolled 21 using 1d20+6. Detect Magic special ability. (any magic within 10 feet of him?)
This message was last edited by the player at 17:43, Thu 07 July 2011.

Wraith awakens and snatches his blade from beside his bunk.  He pulls his spangalor over his head and wraps his belt around his waist.  The air, cold and damp, sends a shudder through his bones.  "Enough games," says the airman to himself.  "Show yourself or stop haunting my sleep."  He hastens from his cabin and seeks the rest of the crew.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:24, Thu 07 July 2011.

Wraith finds most of his crewmates still asleep, albeit many of them fitfully; Aeletheros is peering curiously about the cabin, while Aalistair kneels beside his bunk, deep in prayer.

In reply to GM (msg #118):

Wraith approaches Aeletheros and says, "I presume that something disturbed your slumber, too."  The airman peers at Athellin and then back at the Phantasian.

Aeletheros hasn't taken the time to strap on his armor as he has been observing the surroundings through his magic sight. He smiles faintly at Wraith and replies; "Yes, I too was awakened. There was a voice in the wind, it said 'Welcome to the Ship of Fools, soldier... your search for adventure will land you dying in a wreck far from home.  Yet you know not what they hide from you...', at which point I rose and observed my room with my magic sense. There is some strange residual magic in the wind. I remember tales of magical winds and storms, perhaps remnants of the Great Disaster. The truth of the matter of course remains obscured. What did you notice?"

J'landria's eyes are open and she looks at the others who've been awakened.

She rolls from her bunk, landing on the floor in a crouch, like a large predator ready to pounce.  A growl whispers from her throat and she stands.  She looks around the room, prowling, pacing, seeking out any indication or reason for the disturbance.

She stops near the men and her voice is thick, almost hard to understand from the growling that's sliding into the words.

"Something is toying with us," she snarls.  Then she takes a deep breath, her ears are cocked back in annoyance.  "Said the youngling was dead, tortured to death."

In reply to Aeletheros (msg #120):

"The voice informed me that a traitor - or traitors - lurks among us."  Wraith drapes his wrist across the pommel of his sword; his other hand twists across his chin as he ponders the significance of the dream.  "It is obvious that someone or something wishes to sow discord in our ranks."  The pilot folds his hands behind his back and paces about the cabin, sorting through memories and the fragments of lore that he acquired during his time at the Lyceum.  "In moments such as this, I wish that I'd been a more inquisitive student."  A smile flickers across his face.

OOC:

16:17, Today: Wraith Zephyr rolled 26 using 1d20+6. Wraith Arcane Lore Roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:18, Fri 08 July 2011.

As the group speak, the hatch opens, admitting a gust of howling wind before Athellin enters and closes it behind him.  "I thought perhaps some were moving about down here.  As long as you're up, perhaps someone would be willing to spell me on guard duty?"  He looks around at the expressions on people's faces, "Ah, you can hear the wind down here as well, then."

In reply to GM (msg #123):

"It is a witch-wind, I think," says Wraith.  "Some of these winds are imbued with magical properties, restless spirits, and other things that should be banished from this realm."