With so many of their number dead, that the sahuagin routed was hardly a surprise. What was unusual is that the cries warning them to retreat came from the creatures still in the water. The overcast sky was darkening rapidly, and a sudden gale snapped the sails to and fro--they'd need to be properly set or reefed soon if they were to be salvaged.

Under Eladrin's urgent direction, the companions got the sails properly set and raked. The Wraith was as fine a ship as the oceans carried, but even it was hard pressed to run before this storm. To be on deck was to be soaked in a mix of rain and seawater. To go below was to endure relentless banging on furniture and cabin walls.

Hour after hour the storm hurled them about. Thin, sturdy ropes of elven make tied all those on deck to the mast or rails. Jancus and Sukuden were each saved by those lines, pulled out of the tempest and back onto the deck when the waves dragged them overboard.

The two elven lords were hoarse from shouting. The storm front was too broad to escape. And the storm itself was too strong to simply weather. The companions had little choice but to continue their run, even as the light dwindled to only the flash of lightning and the dim hope of magical lanterns.

It was difficult to notice, at first, but now some of the towering swell seemed to pass through the ship, shadowy waves that left chill without damp.

The time spent aboard the Wraith since their journey began had done wonders for the kobold's sea legs, but this storm was something beyond his experience.  Tossed overboard more than once, Suku was glad of the elven lines and already cursing the salty crust he seemed to be accumulating.

When the first unnatural wave passed, it was difficult to discern what had happened.  Truly different, the swell tugged at his soul in a sinister way.  It felt deeply wrong.  The samurai brushed Shuurai's handle with the back of a clawed hand as a reminder to its solidity and to see if the ancient wisdom of the blade was reacting.

Ancestors, grace us with your protection and grant us the knowledge to overcome this adversity!

Suku strained his ears to hear the frantic orders of the more experienced seamen through the gale.  Even so, his small frame rushed to execute their commands.

Sari kept herself below decks as much as possible. Having no sea experience besides the little they'd been travelling she was no help. Worse, she was a distraction when none was needed. So she'd been below, helping to secure loose items and be sure nothing was leaking.

But still, she was tired, battered and bruised, and the storm continued to rage.

The shadowy waves came as a shock and she took to keeping a firm grip on Dawn and a steady breathing of prayers to Pelor, hoping the sun god's radiance might dispel some of the shadows...

During their journey thus far, Reanna's agile form had often been seen in the rigging helping the sailors as best she could, always careful to follow orders from those who had more knowledge than she did. And with the storm, she was glad she had gotten that knowledge as she strained to hear orders above the roaring of wind and wave. Then the 'shadow waves' began to move through. The feel of them made her shudder, and as soon as she could, she headed for her bunk and the Enamblis waiting there. It was time to see if, once again, she could find knowledge and information in that ancient book that would help with their situation.

The Sahuagin attack was troubling, even if it proved unsuccessful in the end.  It was just one more thing they needed to contend with and be on the lookout for as they continued their quest.  However the short-lived attack paled in comparison to the latest obstacle in their path.  The storm had battered and tossed the Wraith and it’s crew for what seemed like days now, and it wasn’t the first time Bronwyn had the thought that this natural occurrence was anything but.

Demon born, she mouthed the words into what she perceived as the eye of the storm.

For all the good it had done.

Her hair was matted in clumps wherever it touched clothing or skin.  Said clothing was equally soaked and sodden, making her movements more effort, than grace.  Yet what could she do?

She was no sailor, but she had managed to acquire some small measure of skill during all their time aboard the Wraith.  She had made it her priority to never be simply a passenger, when there was something that could be done.  The ship was an engineering marvel, and its crew was second to none.  It could sail itself through the toughest of nature’s fury, but this storm was pushing that ingenuity, and its crew, to the limit.

Elec’s and Eladrin’s voices came cracked and raw over the din of the storm, but the orders never wavered or ceased and Bronwyn followed them as best she could.  They needed to find safe harbor to wait out the storm, but it seemed more and more likely that the only course was to ride it out, and pray.

Goddess preserve us, she thought, not for the first time since this began, and sloshed across the deck to offer her assistance…
This message was last edited by the player at 17:43, Thu 10 Mar 2011.

"Thin Land!" Elec yelled, though his voice was curiously flat in the impenetrable gloom. The ranger had traveled further than any of the other companions, and knew exactly how much trouble they were in. And no way even to steer. Going into the borders of a Thin Land was foolhardy. Going deeper was suicide. He'd heard rumours of Thin Lands out on the ocean, but...

The wind vanished, but the waves showed no signs of lapsing. The Wraith cut over and through them with neither rhyme nor reason, her sails slack but her speed undiminished. Elec and Eladrin managed to get the companions gathered in the mess, though there was no question of cooking. The light of the magical lamps seemed weak, drained of color.

"We're in a Thin Land, and there's no way to know how we'll get out. If we get out." Elec said.

'Drin knew better than to smirk, but he answered, "We'll get out, El. One way or another."

Elec opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. He looked at Eladrin, eyes wide. The Sudahrah shared the expression.

"We've stopped mo--"

An enormous splintering crash ended all conversation. Inky blackness flooded in. There was none of the gradual ebb of consciousness Hadib's poison had brought, just a sudden shadow that stilled thought as instantly and thoroughly as it did light.