RP:To Race and Raise

Part of the Two If By Sea Arc

Synopsis

The Nautilus races a ship stolen from the Governor of Gualon and captained by Crisien and Captain Braith for a stake in the newly rediscovered wreckage of the Selene's Fortune. The seaborn detect this invasion and attack in an effort to stop the pillaging, but it's too little too late..

At the Cenril Docks

Emilia was here shortly after her friend arrived at the sandy space near to the wrecked ship. Nervous thumbs twiddled together, she had never done anything this big before. Spotting Crisien she waved to the other woman. A nervous smile on her blue lips, "Crisien!" She called in friendly greeting.

Crisien heard Emi's voice and span on the spot, turning to beam at Emilia. "Emi," she grinned, "Y'ready f'this?" A beat, and she added, lowly, "I promise that I'll go all... dragon... an' fly y'out of the sight of water." A glance was cast about thereafter, as she searched for other souls - Tristram's ship was rather large, and Krice wasn't anywhere to be seen. Psht.

Hudson has been plodding along, eating a flakey pastry, when he is assaulted by a seagull. It lands on his shoulder and plucks the snack from the man's hands, making off in a flurry of feathers. Huds yelps as he is mugged, thinking it by a human, of course, and pivots on his heel to face his assailant. He only sees the departing bird. Right. And he finds himself facing Emilia, whom he knows, and Crisien. Now that the embarrassing truth is known to him, he lifts a hand in a wave and offers them a self-effacing grin. "Hello!" he calls out cheerfully, as if that had not just happened.

Emilia smiled at Crisien, "You better go dragon and fly me away if the ocean attacks back." Yes, the Genasi was deathly afraid of water. "I am ready as ever." The spectale of the gull and man eased the nerves of the white woman, even a small laugh. "Well, Mr. Buzzed Foamstache! Good to see you, again."

Crisien watched as Hudson and Emilia greeted one and other, and wary, muddy-brown eyes appraised the former. "Can y'sail?" she asked, without so much as a 'hello'. To Emilia, she shot a reassuring smile, "Ocean attacks, we fly out th' way instantly." Cris didn't wait for an answer from Hudson, and instead turned on her heel and headed for the ship she'd, er... stolen... and began to scale its hull. As her she clambered up the rope ladder and hauled herself over the side, she yelled at her would-be companions (assuming either of them had put aside her rudeness and followed), "C'mon, we haven't got all day!"

Hudson plods forward to bridge the distance between himself and the two women. "Nice to see you, Emi, even under the circumstances," meaning his stolen snack. He digs his hands into his pockets and faces Crisien in response to her query. "I can be on boats and do things if you tell me to do them," he tells her, which is not exactly what she'd asked, but before he can elaborate she has spun off. He finds himself, perhaps against his better judgment, trailing her. "What are we doing!" he chuffs at his female companions as he hoists himself over the side of the boat. "I forgot to ask! What are we doing! Moreover, what should I be doing?"

Emilia was glad to know Cris wouldn't let her die in the ocean. The moment her friend turned off to board the ship the Genasi was right behind her. She would stick close to the other if she didn't then how could Cris save her life. "We do not have all day indeed!" An excited nervous smile fell on her lips as her feet touched the floor of the ship. "Fast as we can...I don't like the ocean..."

Crisien appreciated Hudson's comments. "Excellent," she'd trill, before informing him of their mission. Matter-of-factly, she announced, "Emi's goin' t'freeze a sunken ship so that it floats, an' we can get to it's, er... treasures." Once they were aboard, she set about barking orders to the deck-hands and her companions, before giving the word to lift its anchor and set sail. "Quick, quick," she urged, casting several glances back at Emi as they left the shores - she knew the Genasi wasn't the biggest fan of the sea, and they couldn't afford for her to lose her nerve. More importantly, Cris didn't want to subject her friend to any undue discomfort. Mind you, she'd also take a few moments to study their new travelling companion - could Hudson be trusted? Only time would tell.

Hudson manages to stammer, "Wh-what?" in response to Crisien's explanation before he's ordered about into contributing something useful toward their purpose. He realizes, belatedly, as he's hauling ropes, that he hasn't even caught this woman's name. He tries to scan the ship deck for Emilia, but with the deck-hands in a flurry of activity, it's not immediately apparent where she's gone either.

Emilia found her place of stance close to the middle mast of the ship. It was near center of the ship and dar away from either side. While everyone else rushed about to set sail she just stood there out of the way. She was not a seafearer, but she was a good friend and treasure lover. Nervous thumbs twiddled together, waiting until they reached their destination.

Crisien was impressed with Hudson's attitude - buckle down and get on with it. In fact, she appreciated his lack of floundering - so much so, she voiced such opinions. "Nice work there, stranger," she yelled across from her position, before, again, looking nervously toward Emi. After a while (really, it wasn't -that- far), they arrived and Cris yelled for the sails to be dropped. "We're here," she said, tentatively shuffling across to Emi. "You're up. Ready f'this?"

Lysander leans against the railing of a massive ship being readied for sea. A frenetic busyness pervades the ship as the crew hurries to finish the remaining tasks that require completion before the man o' war moves into open waters. On the dock, a man bellows, "Last call for passage to the Selene's Fortune! Ten percent stake at claim for every sea-worthy lad!" A glance around the docks finds the man amending, "Or lassie!" Aboard the ship, the kraken watches silently from near the bow, eyes cast over the sea. Movement in the waves find his brows furrowing, his attention drawn there by the potential sighing, and inherent endangerment of the creature he thinks he's spotted there.

Hudson is mentally remarking on the peculiarity of the circumstances. Bump into a girl you met at a bar, and follow her friend - whose name you still don't know - onto a ship and suddenly engage in manual labor. He is decisively sweaty. His waistcoat is killing him. At some point he balls it up and chucks it into a corner. And yet the excitement on board is not to be denied. He is just straightening from having tied some knots when Crisien calls out at him, subtly acknowledging the strangeness of it all. He waves in response to her. "Fully committed to whatever this is, stranger!" he calls back, threading his way through shipmates to meet the two women. "Relax," he tells Emilia, rubbing the sweat off his palms onto his pants. "Your friend is very in charge, it is a good sign."

Emilia shot a glance at Husdon, "I'm trying Mr. Buzzed Foamstache." Emi replied to Huds relax. For the life of her that was the only name she could remember for him. Then the ship had reached its location. It was time. Timid steps move the Genasi away from safety of the middle of the ship toward the side. "Ready as ever, Cris." The Genasi said as she rubbed those white hands together, the ice was already starting to cause a frost over them. "Where is the ship exactly?"

Crisien was unnerved by the sight of another ship in the distance, particularly as it was headed toward them. Whether or not Husdson and Emilia had noticed it was a mystery to Cris, but she wasn't about to broadcast it to the entire crew. Instead, she ambled to the side of their ship and pointed into the abyss. "There," she said, glancing back at Emi, "I've seen it m'self; I know it's there." Hudson would receive a grin. "Y'can call me Crisien - I'm not all that strange."

Akantha ducked briefly beneath the waves, another twist of her arms propelling her quickly out of the way of a moving ship before she'd stop once more. Again, the cecaelia surfaced, her attention following the ship that had moved toward the excavation site. Her expression belied confusion, and the sea witch's stormy gaze flicked back and forth to the docked ship bearing the kraken and others of her kind and the crew set upon raising the ship from its watery grave. Finally, she seemed to decide on the latter and with another twist of her body and undulating movement of her arms, edged nearer. Her own magic would be drawn upon as she did, a song to entice the water around the trio's craft into a clumsy dance of its own.

Hudson braces himself, widening his stance, as the ship's pace slows. "A beer right now sounds about right," he replies to Emilia, his hectic breathing from all the hubbub slowing as he catches his breath. Crisien of course has introduced herself too, and Huds nods in response. "Hudson. Or Huds if you are parsimonious with your syllables," he tells her, his gaze slicing briefly toward Emilia with a sort of dry amusement. "Or Mr. Buzzed Foamstache." In the distance, there's the silhouette of another ship charging in their direction, and this moment of levity, at least on Huds' part, is interrupted by its appearance. "Captain Crisien," starts Hudson, his arm jutting out to indicate. He glances back at the girls, and his thought of course is terminated by an equal part of surprise at what Emilia's up to. Stunned into silence, then. He watches.

Lysander growls, a low rumble in the back of his throat once he's sure of what he spots out in the open waters. Akantha is too close to this ship, too close to being captured by her murderous crew if they should spot her. But they don't. Instead, it's all hands on deck as the crew works to run up the rigging and let out the sails. The kraken is dragged away from the railing to work at rolling the immense anchor into its compartment. He positions himself at the gigantic horizontally-fixed wheel near the main mast and grabs one of the spokes to begin hauling up the anchor. Below, the gangplank is getting ready to be hoisted. "Last call!" A crew member sweeps his arm the direction of the Nautilus. "Guaranteed ten percent stake in the wreck. That goes up to thirty if we beat that other ship!" He positions himself at the gangplank, holding his hand out to assist any last minute adventurers.

Emilia was focused at the task at hand of freezing a ship up from the depths of the massive ocean. It would be a long process for her to do in a clam water without others about, but others were about. The ship they were on was a large ship, larger than most though it fell plauge to the song of the witch, rocking and swaying with the waves. The unnatural extra movement of the ship slipping the feet of the Genasi along the deck. "If you let me fall in..I'll kill you" directed to both Huds and Crisien of who would be left to deal with all outside forces. The snow blasting from her hands continued to hit the ocean at full force, slowly chilling the warm water.

Aboard Tristram's 'Borrowed' Ship

Hildegarde || With Crisien retreating hastily below deck due to a rather horrendous bout of seasickness, her replacement storms onto the deck and roars to those aboard: “Cap’n Crisien be abed wi’ seasickness! I’ll be yer actin’ Cap’n now, an’ ye can all call me Cap’n Braith!” He moves with a practiced grace as the ship begins to fall victim to the rolling waves of the sea, forcing the ship to sway from side to side, from back to front and all ways that might make a person want to vomit up the contents of their stomachs. “Har har! This be t’ weather o’ an adventure!” he cries with hearty abandon as he makes to the helm and clasps the wheel firmly. “Lad!” the new name for Hudson, “What be ye doin’ upon m’ ship?” Assuming Hudson would quickly explain his purpose or what he intended to do to assist their situation, Captain Braith would turn his eye to Emilia, “Lass!” the new name for Emilia, “same t’ ye, what be ye doin’ wi’ all that ice ‘n’ snow? If ye be scared o’ fallin’ o’erboard ye ought t’ tie yersel to somethin’ so ye dinnae fall in!”

Akantha was in a dangerous place, and she was fully aware of it as she sought to come between the Genasi's magic and the ship that lay far below. Cold water was not exactly an issue for the deep dwelling cecaelia, as could be told by the purpled hue of the eight arms that made up her lower half. Ice, on the other hand, prevented movement and that was, most definitely, not something she'd want to get tangled up in if it could be helped. So it was that she'd continue her song, whole-heartedly seeking to upset the sea to the best of her abilities with her magic. Water churned beneath the ship, combatting the chill of Emilia's magic with the cycling of water. It could go either way, though. If Emilia's blizzard had already begun to freeze chunks of ice around the sunken vessel, then the twist of Akantha's whirling water coupled with the reach of the Genasi's cooling spell might only aid in the lowering of the water temperature. A particularly keening note left the depths of her throat, a warning to the ship's crew. In her mind, the ship and its crew were one.

Hudson stares, his mouth opening and closing as realization sinks in. Emilia is snowing out of her hands. Emilia. The nice girl with triplets that he'd met at a bar. Engaged in some sort of wizardry. Well, what a development. His gawking ceases as the ship lurches abruptly, and his balance falters. Huds' forehead connects with the mast. That'll leave a nice bump. He brings his back against the mast and reaches to hold Emilia by the shoulders, in the hopes of steadying her so that she doesn't suffer the same fate. Somewhere in the midst of this, Crisien has retreated and Braith has taken her place. The decks have gotten chaotic, noisy, and there's a haunting song on the wind. Huds isn't sure if there's something more useful to be done than anchoring Emilia. He thinks not? "I got you! Chill! Do the snow thing!" shouts Huds to the farm girl, turning to swing his gaze Braith's way. "I don't know! I'm just here randomly and helping! Can you do something about all the turbulence? And the wailing on the wind? I think it's freaking her out?!"

Emilia slid forward with another jostling of the ship by the song of the witch. Were it not for Huds having taken her shoulders she may have just fallen overboard into the sea. The Genasi was blasting the ocean now in order to chipl the water itself, not freeze it. Emi was not powerful enough to freeze the sea itself. She could chill it down from its warmth so that ice could form on things below the surface. "Don't" call me Lass..." she managed, hardly looking away from the water.

Hildegarde || Captain Braith’s voice boomed from the wheel of the ship towards Hudson and Emilia, “Do I look like a sea-wizard t’ ye?!” he said in reply to Hudson’s request about handling the weather and the turbulence, “We’re at sea ‘n’ she’ll decide if we live or die!” he declared in a rather amused tone of voice. With a sharp whistle, he summons the First Mate over to take control of the helm so he might move over to Emilia and Hudson. “Right, then, Lassie,” he said as an alternative, “T’ sea is turnin’ against us ‘n’ I need ye t’ tell me what yer doin’ wi’ all that cold yer makin’,” he asked, truly needing to know so he could understand how to best work through this situation. “Full-sail!” he commanded, being met with a resounding ‘aye cap’n!’ in response as the many crewmen began to scurry about to tend to the sails. Peering over the side of the ship, he looked once again between Emilia and Hudson – unaware that it was the work of a sea witch that was causing this foul weather – “I’m goin’ t’ tie ye t’ forecastle, lassie, that way ye’ll no’ fall in. I need ye t’ stop worrying about fallin’ ‘n’ just keep doin’ whatever it is yer doin’!” he told her, only moving two paces away before returning with a length of rope long enough to tie around Emilia’s waist and a sturdy wooden post at the fore of the ship. Once secured, he turned around to bellow once again, “Get on that bastardin’ keel t’ keep us balanced, ya sons of wenches!”

Akantha was desperate to keep the ship upset, but she was only one sea witch and quite frankly, the vessal was huge. Each note that fell from her lips was a key part in maintaining her spell, and it would take silence to end her casting. For now, she still had the advantage of not yet being seen and she would make as much use of it as she could. Her arms began to thrash around her, some raising above water for the briefest of moments before crashing down beneath. More and more, it began to churn around her, and this time the sea witch extended her right arm outward to her side. Fingers spread and palm upward, she drew her hand back before swinging it forward, another godawful note vacating itself from the depths of her throat as another swell began to form upon the ocean, seeking to crash into the side of the ship and rock the boat yet again. The smarter choice would have been to call to her brethren for help, but Akantha was stubborn.

Hudson is grateful for Captain Braith's collaborative thinking about the rope. The ship is bucking more aggressively, and Huds is not sure he can keep them both on their feet if things worsen. "Good thinking!" he shouts at Captain Braith, and he moves out of the way for the captain. The alchemist helps the other man lash Emilia in place against the post. "We got you!" he tells her once she's secured, giving her a thumbs up before he peels away, skidding along the deck. He maneuvers himself to the railing of the ship, borrowing from Braith and looping some rope around his person as he does so. It's just in time, too, for Akantha sends a giant wave against the hull of the vessel, and the impact makes Huds strain against his makeshift support system. He curses. Now would be a good time to become a good alchemist, and become the wind, even if for a second, he tells himself as he tries to peer overboard. He tries to clear his mind and make yet another futile attempt in his ledger of failed alchemy, and to zero effect, for he's slammed into a nearby crate. A gigantic tentacle rises out of the water, and Huds' eyes grow with alarm. "Sea monster! Captain! Sea monster!" he sounds the alarm, getting it together for the time it takes him to pitch his face over the side and lose what little food he'd had that day.

Emilia nearly punched the captain and Huds the moment they went to use the rope to as a secure line to keep her from going over the edge. As much as she didn’t like the water, she also wasn’t fond of strangers touching her. However, the next rocking of the ship with a wave crashing into the side caused the Genasi to lose her footing and fall backwards onto her rear-end. The moment she started to stagger the blasting of snow and ice from her hands ceased. The water below the boat and surrounding it was no longer its normal warmth, cooler in fact to where she was blasting had small bits of ice floating. “I am going to beat Crisien silly.” The Genasi mumbled as she just remained there seated on the ship’s floor. Those cold hands of hers causing the ship where she touched to slowly freeze over in a thin layer of ice. “Mr. Buzzed Foamstache! Captain!” The farmer hollered, “We are going about this all wrong! All wrong!” A shake of her head, “Captain, get me to where Crisien has marked on the map above the ship. Focus on getting us to that location and…find a spare anchor or something heavy enough to sink –me- to the ocean floor.” Had she really just said that? Sink herself to the floor of the ocean, the thing she feared most! Treasure and Crisien’s request were worth it enough to the farmer to go into the ocean. Shaking her head she knew when X or Krice found out they’d have lectures an ear full for her.

Hildegarde || Braith had no issues with striking women, so it is fortunate that Emilia did not strike either him or Hudson. He didn’t have the time for this. “WENCH!” he roared now at Emilia, “You will no’ tell me ‘ow t’ sail m’ own ship. We are sailin’, we are battlin’ t’ elements and a sea creature, can ye no’ comprehend that?” his question being more rhetorical than anything else. Enough time has been wasted on Emilia and her now hollering words and disapproval of how the ship is run. The Captain must do what the Captain must to ensure the ship makes it in one piece to the site: “Raise that mizzen sail! Eyes on t’ outrigger! Fetch m’ harpoon!” he roared, being swiftly handed a harpoon as he stormed to the portside of the ship to catch sight of the tentacles that breached the surface of the water, casting the whaling harpoon in the direction of the beast before the ship picked up speed and pulled further towards the site.

Akantha heard the words "Sea monster!" as they were yelled by the alchemist and this gave cause to a twitch just below her eye. Monster? Her? No, not at all! Her spell threatened to falter for the briefest of moments at the offense taken. She passed it off as ignorance on the landwalker's part though and her melody continued. As the ship began to move once more, the waves continued to dance to her song. Her thrashing slowed as her arms lowered beneath her once more. Together, they moved to shoot her forward, that warbling strain constant. Her concentration on song and remaining near the ship distracted her from the harpoon as it was shot into the water. Its endblade pierced one arm, then a second as force carried it through the suctioned tendrils. On a painful note, the song ceased and the churning waters would slow. The rope to which the harpoon was attached was jerked taut moments after, for Akantha's other arms coiled around it as pale fingers tried to dislodge it from her arms. The ship's movement would bring her head above water now and then, and cursing could be heard.

Hudson is busy dry heaving over the lip of the ship or he would have had a gentlemanly moment and told Braith to lay off of calling Emilia a wench. She was clearly integral to the plan, whatever the plan was. He watches, bleary-eyed, as Captain Braith bravely launches a harpoon at their assailant (whom he has inadvertently offended, as it were). The Captain places a hit, and the line on the harpoon begins to run out! The alchemist wonders if he has started to hallucinate when a woman's face appears above the waves, a woman's face presumably connected to a woman's body and... the tendrils of the "sea monster?" With a groan, Huds sinks down off the lip of the boat, his gaze connecting with a heavy anvil that's just opposite him, tucked against a smaller rescue-sized boat, as luck would have it. "Here, this is what she wants," he waves some of his shipmates over and attempts to push himself upright. The boat is jerking around spasmodically, no doubt in response to Akantha's struggles with the harpoon, and Huds staggers toward a group of men currently engaged in steadying the keel.

Emilia turned those bright blue eyes upon the captian as he dared to call her a wench. “Watch that mouth of yours before I freeze it shut.” The Genasi snapped at him with clear sharp tones, “Crisien is the main captain of this voyage even if she has momentarily handed it off to you.” Mind you, Emi was a farmer not a sailor or a pirate so the ways and mannerism of the proper authority of a ship setting was beyond her. The moment in time was now focused on the woman’s head that was bobbing up above the waves now and then attacked to what the harpoon had struck. What kind of ‘sea monster’ had they found. Blinking, the Genasi would remain in her location to watch things for the moment until the immediate threat was gone. However, talking with a ship-hand she would be requesting more items for her new plan of attack.

Hildegarde || Braith is not willing to keep a hold of the rope attached to the harpoon nor let it remain attached to the ship for the sea creature to potentially wreck part of the ship. With the rope released into the sea, he can let the sea witch ache and hopefully scurry off rather than oppose them any further. “Ye back talk me ‘n’ I’ll be seein’ that ye stay in t’ brig,” he said sharply, for he took no backtalk from any member of the crew: be they brief or permanent members. Crisien may have been the captain, but she certainly did not have the experience or sea-legs of Braith! “Ye see that?” he points at the site, it was only just up ahead, “Ye best be gettin’ on t’ anchor if ye want to get up once we send ye down,” he informed Emilia as he made his way back to her to attend to the rope that had so carefully held her in place. “Anvil will no’ get ye back up. Wi’ anchor, we can raise ye quicker, so ye won’t drown. But ye’d have to climb down ont’ anchor, ye wi’ me?”

Akantha felt slack upon the rope the moment Braith released it and having failed to withdraw it from her arms, made for no more fuss with the ship. The water was calm again, the ship once more stable upon her surface. The cecaelia, gimped by the harpoon through two of eight arms, swam deeper into the water and away from the site. Now, having seriously injured herself, she would seek help.

Hudson finds their environment suddenly transformed! Gone is the nauseating turbulence. He and the boys at the keel can tone down their efforts, to the point that Huds can peel away and lets the real sailors handle it. Even though things have settled considerably, the alchemist feels like he's been punched in the gut. He wonders if he told his mother he loved her this morning. It looks like a pen has exploded in his shirt pocket - except it's not ink, it's dried vomit. He is thus a little worse for wear as he maneuvers his way toward Braith and Emilia. "How can I help?" he exhales to the pair.

Meanwhile, Aboard the Nautilus

Lysander | The crew member offers his hand to help Callamyre board, warning her, "Mind the gap," as he helps himself to a bit of a look as she presumably boards. As soon as Callamyre is aboard, the gangplank is practically uprooted from under her and it's a foot race amongst the crew to get the ship out from port. There's a small group of adventurers aboard, easily distinguishable as they resemble most landlubbers: excited, determined, a little confused, wobbly. The Captain makes his way to the wheel deck and takes his place next to the navigator who is already taking them out to sea. "Welcome aboard The Nautilus!" He sweeps his hand across the deck. "My ship, is your ship. But mind yourselves, and mark my words. Be careful around the seafolk, as pretty as they be." He gestures to the mermaid trapped in a glass bowl at the bow, serving as the figurehead of the ship instead of a wooden one. "She may be beautiful, but she will kill you in a moment's notice." The crew continues to work as the Captain speaks, save one. Lysander stands at the mast, his arms folded across his chest. A long chain extends from both wrists to the mast, providing him freedom to travel the length and breadth of the ship, but not over her railings and into the water below. He spies a woman clamor onto the ship and he narrows his eyes, staring at her with laser-like focus. Her presence appears to go unnoticed by the crew in their frenzy to chase after the other ship. The kraken makes his way to the foreign selkie, grabbing a bit of linen from a line as it dries to hand to her, and shielding her from the rest of the crew as he comes to a stop in front of her.

Moire is over the deck railing and skittering across the wet boards by the time Callamyre make it aboard, and the gangplank is wrenched from the docks below. The selkie slides easily over the man o' war's main deck, wet feet and swabbed slats aiding in her tractionless trip toward the main mast of the vessel. She means to head to the poop deck, or at least aft where the wheelhouse most commonly stands when the kraken comes toward her, cloth in hand. The monk freezes, though it is no a response of fear. Instead, the warrior woman tenses, the flesh of her shoulders etched with musculature beneath as she takes on a half-crouched stance, as if she were prepared to wrestle the male coming toward her. Wide, coal black eyes watch Lysander as he approaches, the fathomless sights darting away from the kraken with the frenzy to get the ship under full sail, and give chase. The seaborn's hands curl slightly, her fingers splayed into a gesture more akin to paws than digits, though one reaches out in equal measures of ferocity and caution to take the swathe of linen from Lysander.

Callamyre continued to board the ship, amazed at the frenzy the crew was in, and found herself caught up in it. A subtle flush spread across her neck and settled into her cheeks, but rather than dwell on the reasoning behind such a blush, her attention was ensnared by the 'figurehead' mermaid, whose bowl she began to approach. She passed by Lysander as she made her way to the captive creature, and the chain leading away from his wrists caused her to waver in her desire to scrutinize the mermaid. Notepad now in her right hand, she forgot what she was going to scribble in it as her hazel eyes followed the bound man's crossing to where the selkie was, and a frown started to tug at her lips. 'What sort of ship is this?' she asked herself as once more she found herself looking toward the mermaid's prison. 'Who would dare keep people caged up like this?' Calla dared not voice such an appalled opinion aloud, but she did sent another curious gaze in Lysander's direction, before her gaze turned toward the other would-be adventurers. Unlike them, this was not her first treasure-hunt, although she was usually at the forefront of such endeavors, rather than a last-minute addition to the fray. The mermaid still nagged at her mind, as well as the chain around Lysander's wrists, and Calla began to question whether she had boarded the right ship. Chewing on her lip, she abandoned her decision to study the mermaid and instead quietly moved over toward a spot at the deck where she felt she would be able to unobtrusively observe everything that was going on. Her frown remained in place, forcing her lips into a tight, thin line, and while having any creature bound angered her, she knew it was best to gather all of the facts before making a judgment on the situation. Keeping to herself, she made sure to stay out of the crews' way as she began taking notes in her pad with the charcoal stylus that had been previously tucked beneath an ear.

Lysander lets go of the linen, but remains where he is, large and imposing, blocking the selkie from the curious eyes of a lecherous crew. He waits for her to wrap it around herself before he reaches past her to finish securing the anchor in its deck notch, keeping busy, attempting to prevent attention from being drawn to either of them. "I can't stop this." He meets her gaze, an unremarkable human green meeting fathomless coal. He straightens from the anchor and glances back at the crew, at the others assembled to secure the gold being promised to them. He presumes she knows what he is, or maybe it has been so long that another seaborn can no longer recognize him for his true form, but he regards her sternly nonetheless. "Do not let them--" he jerks his head toward the crew scattered about the decks, "--know you do not belong here. They will make it their work to make sure you do." He steps away from her because he's already spent too long in her company, potentially endangering her, arousing suspicion. He picks up a large coil of rope and hoists it atop his shoulder. After a last glance at the selkie, he makes his way to the mainsail, closer to Callamyre, dropping the heavy rope on the deck with a thud that makes the wood creak underfoot. He regards her with the same silent stare, sizing her up without much attempt at subtlety. From beside his navigator, the Captain, Morrigan, bellows another order to his crew. From the crow's nest above, the call comes back, "We're gaining on her!"

Moire is still wary of Lysander, though she goes bind the length of linen around her nude form. It is twisted, cinched, and tied about her so that one knot secures a halter style top at the nape of her neck, but leaves her back bare. The cloth is then brought between her legs and up the back to her hips, afertward tied at the waist to create pants (or a diaper, hey!). Mostly decent now, the sable-haired female is still guarded, but gives Lysander's word of warning a sharp nod. Bare feet plod along the deck, the monk moving toward another coil of rope that is soon grabbed up, and slung over the selkie's frame from shoulder to hip diagonally. She moves away from the chained male, instead heading toward the aft mast in pantomime of intent to unfurl and trim the sail, to help the ship progress in its chase of the fortune at stake.

Callamyre could not help but try to peek around Lysander from her vantage point in the attempt to see the selkie who gathered up his attention. Had some naked creature just crawled onto the ship? Diverting her gaze back to her notepad, she studied her crude sketch of Lysander she had drawn, along with some chicken-scratch notes about the chain, wondering what it was made of; on the page opposite was a similarly-crude drawing of the mermaid and her bowl, along with the name, 'Sinann' with two bold underlines and a question mark. It was her only link to mermaids in the past, and if she could recall what information she had about her long-gone friend, perhaps she could be of some use to the mermaid presently swimming around her prison. Despite appearing for all intents and purposes to be focused on her notepad, she was in fact eavesdropping on anything she could – orders, side-conversations between the would-be adventurers, and especially Lysander's words to Moire, which inspire a surreptitious glance in their direction. When the man turned from the selkie and moved closer to her, she quickly dropped her gaze, and turned to a new, clean page in her notepad, hopefully before he could discern its contents. Feeling him staring at her, she lifted her hazels to stare back, her face impassive in contrast to the renewed flush that fluttered across her skin. Her hazels dropped to study the chains on his wrists, and compassion surged forward for this strange man, even though she knew not why he was bound in the first place; for all she knew, he was a dangerous criminal, but she somehow doubted such. From what she could tell, the captain had a penchant for locking people up; her eyes traveled to the mermaid in her bowl, before she returned her curiosity to Lysander. Although her frown from earlier subtly faded, she still kept her guard up; she had no idea what she was getting herself into by choosing this ship over the one with familiar folk, but then again, Callamyre was not known for making the best of decisions. When someone cried out about their speed, she made it a point to move away from Lysander, a knot forming in her stomach. Something was not right, not with the mermaid in the bowl, and this main whose hands were chained, and while she had boarded the ship purely for the chance at getting a portion of the promised treasure, it occurred to Callamyre that she at the wrong place for the very right time. Cautiously avoiding the to and fro of the crew and the sway and bob of the ship as it gained on its competitor, she made a beeline for the Captain. “Excuse me,” she began, speaking for the first time since they left port. “Is there anything I could be doing to help us get there first?”

Lysander | The Captain turns to the navigator, eyes narrowing. "Get us there first, Jaime." He grips the railing as the navigator adjusts the wheel and the sails billow out, taking hold of a trade wind angling just right across the bow. As Callamyre approaches, he watches her silently before stretching his hand down to assist her up the short staircase to the wheelhouse deck. "Welcome, lass. Just mind your footing. Unless you know how to sail, it's just a matter of biding your time until we reach the claim. Then you'll be of great assistance." He steps away to speak briefly with another sailor and returns a moment later. Perhaps he's noticed her lingering attention on the mermaid's bowl, as he remarks, "She's quite beautiful, isn't she? One of the most beautiful I've seen. Called Peredon." On the main deck, Lysander continues his work, mostly heavy labor not essential to the actual sailing of the ship. He finds himself aft after some time, and he reaches to assist Moire with some of the rigging in quiet companionship. Meanwhile, the ship ventures ever closer to the doomed wreck, and to closing on the other vessel.

Moire avoids looking at the Captain in spite of Callamyre's wanderings toward the direction. For the most part, the selkie observes everything through a haze of dark lashes, her alabaster face tipped down toward the deck while the inky eyes strain upward to look over the crew and their hustle, as well as the mysterious woman who joined at the last moment. Lysander's aid is met with skittish acceptance, an attempt made to stifle her defensive nature, and instead present a hardened, world-weary demeanor. The selkie still does not speak to the kraken, though a heavy stare, and the only direct look the porcelain-skinned female gives anyone, is aimed at the male seaborn. The moonlike, round face again tips down toward the deck, before the pale, petal pink yet blue-rimmed lips flex and yaw to life. "How many aboard?" The question is whispered and raspy, delivered in a voice not accustomed to use, least of all in the open air.

Callamyre did not take the offered hand to ascend the stairs to the wheelhouse, and simply ignored it as she was quite capable of traversing the stairs herself. Once on the deck, she looked out across the ship, and beyond it to where she could spot their racing foe. After a moment, she turned a reserved gaze toward the captain once more. "You know her name, and yet --" The woman had to silence herself, putting on a gracious smile in an effort to conceal how she really felt about the situation. "I am Doctor Callamyre na Trough," she elected to offer, keeping her eyes trained on the captain even as the rest of her senses were searching the ship, her hearing lingering on Lysander, and picking up the soft voice of the selkie, though she made no sign that she had heard what she whispered to the kraken. To the captain, she went on to say, "Well, I may not be a sailor, but ... I think I could help us make some headway." As she spoke, a renewed gust of wind whipped at the sails, but Callamyre's gaze did not waver to signal that she had boosted the strength of the wind herself. "What do you know about Selene's Fortune?"

Lysander maneuvers a few feet away from the selkie to push a loose cannon back into position and properly secure it. He moves back to the railing, the thick chain tethering him to the mast sliding across the deck. After a glance Moire's way to mark the receipt of her question, he jerks his head toward a prominent rack of seal skins glistening in the sun along with a silver bridle or two. Before he can answer, a wind catches the ship's sails and sends her surging forward. Suddenly, there is a flurry of activity aboard the ship. From above, a cry goes out from the crow's nest. "All hands on deck!" The ship pitches violently as a wave crashes over her bow. The surf floods the deck before it recedes, pouring out the sides of the ship. No sooner has the water receded when another wave surges over the deck. Morrigan steadies himself at the railing as the ship pitches. "I know that she holds treasure!" He shouts at the doctor over the din of the growing storm. "She's been missing a long time. Get us there quickly, Doctor, and you'll have a part in her bounty!" He turns his attention back to the navigator, assisting him as the storm begins to rage. Lysander makes his way back toward the central mast, surefooted on the pitching ship; then again, so is much of the crew equally acclimated to the unsteady terrain.

Moire bides her time after Lysander's indication of the prisoners and servants aboard; the braggadocious display of skins and bridles wasn't going anywhere immediately. The ship surges, and the seal maiden's carriage rocks, rolling with the pitching and tossing of the ship as the bow is plunged once, twice, into the oncoming whitecaps. The surf patters down from the rail vents, washing back into the mother that birthed them, sent them in angry droves to crash against the prow and invade the vessel that held so many of her children captive. Moire turns, the rotation practiced, balanced, and steadfast, though her face is scrunched up in fury. The round mein again lifts, pulled upward from its staring at the remnants of foam that wash over the deck to peer at the hanging trophies indicated by the kraken moments before. The monk then heads toward the mainsail, a leap sending her surprisingly high, the human-looking female vaulting nearly fifteen feet into the air, to grap the trailing end of the mainsail's rigging that had no been battened down against a strong wind before. It is a mistake, hopefully one that would go unnoticed, but a telltale one none the less; the well-muscled female is used to pushing against much more force to move through a more dense environment. As nonchalantly as possible, the religious warrior ties off the cord, and immediately begins looking for another station to attend.

Lysander | Morrigan points out the other ship as they near it in the tumult. "Damn. They beat us. Get up there, Jaime, so we can make another claim. Anyone else on the horizon?" Once the answer is assessed as negative, the Captain turns back to his post, his hands gripping the railing as he watches. Aside from the first, there are still no other ships. The claim is viable. The Nautilus approaches the site. Some of the crew ready the cannons on the port side as they draw up to the site opposite the other ship. Lysander pushes toward the railing, immediately leaning over it in an effort to locate what he knows to be below the water.

Emilia curled her hands together into small fists as she pulled them off the post behind her, which itself was coated in a nice layer of thin ice from the ghostly white woman. The rocky motion of the ship had ceased as the waters seemed to calm down the moment the ‘sea monster’ vanished from sight. The farmer took in a slow deep breath to calm herself and to prepare herself from what she was about to do. Of all the things Crisien had drug her into this would have to be the worst of them! Staring at Braith the ice woman nodded slowly, “Yes, I’m with you. Climb onto the anchor and go down into the deep depths of the ocean…” Shaking her head wild curls flung in all directions. She’d done lost her mind. “Mr. Buzzed Foamstache…I am going to go down with the anchor…I am going to freeze the ship from below so that it like an ice cube in a drink can float to the surface then be raised back up. In order for this to work, you and some of the crew are going to have to be ready to tether the unsunke ship to some bouys to keep it afloat so it doesn’t sink again. I am not able to keep it up forever, only so long. Understand?”

Moire has served her time on the Nautilus, and in turn it has served her. As the ship approaches the wreck site, the woman with hair like curtains of black kelp wanders toward the rail in time with Lysander. The selkie pauses long enough to look at the kraken, leveling fathomless, molten sights upon him to deliver an apologetic grimace. The warrior-monk then levers her weight up onto her toes before leaning over the waterlogged rail. Rough, callused palms lever against the top bannister of the main deck, gripping just long enough to turn the selkie head-first toward the waves, and then push. The pale, toned female grunts with the effort as her frame sails free of the side of the ship, and both hands come to a pressed peak above her head. She then crashes into the waves, and heads straight for the wreckage below.

Somewhere in the Cenril/Rynvale Sea

Hildegarde || Captain Braith was all ready to start preparing the buoys and appropriate tethers when The Nautilus entered the scene, evidently preparing for a fight. The Nautilus quite simply outgunned his own ship, he could see that from a mile away. “Lost like a damn fart in t’ wind,” he muttered as he stared blankly at The Nautilus for a long moment. “Master Lad!” he barked at Hudson, see to it that the Ice Wench here gets those buoys. You want t’ go belowdeck and speak t’ crew for that, yer lookin’ for hawser. Strong rope made for t’ pullin’ o’ ships, it’ll do nicely, lad,” he said with a little nod towards Hudson. “Ice Wench, ye best be in t’ water in t’ next few minutes, I’m no’ losin’ that ship!” he roared at Emilia before turning his attention to the crew, “Man t’ cannons!” The cannons on this ship were few in number, it was evidently a ship built for speed: in and out sort of jobs, rather than waging war at sea. “Right lads!” he draws his cutlass, because like any seafaring man worth his salt, Captain Braith has a cutlass! Standing up on the bannister of the main deck, he watches as Moire plummets into the sea and finds himself gripping onto a length of rope. “I damn well hate all these fancy ships,” he muttered to no one in particular. “Go Lad, go Ice Wench!” he cheered before swinging from his ship to the Nautilus with a mad bellowing laugh, cutlass swinging as her went.

Eachna :: Just as they are rescued from the wrath of one sea creature they are forced to contend with another. Every so often she would bob above the waves and peer upon the ship in the distance; the dark head of the horse near enough invisible amongst the waves. Of course, she knows what they’re looking for; every one of the creatures that lurked in the ocean knew what lay on the ocean floor. But by sea-law, anything the ocean touched belonged to the ocean and thus they were encroaching on her property. This could not be allowed. She would not have it. She cares little for the two ship’s dislike of each other; indeed, she’d happily assist in their mutual destruction. Eachna’s greatest power is also her greatest disadvantage. In order to heed the sea to her call, the kelpie is required to break the surface and appear as a humanoid being; unfortunately horses, even kelpies, don’t have voices and, in order to wreak havoc, she needs one of those. A bard she might be, but she’s no siren or mermaid and kelpies -do not- sing. Instead she chants rhythmically and carefully rhymed. “Make them regret they dare left the sand; the ocean is ours, send them back to the land! Bring down the ship, bring up the waves. Leave none left alive, men, women and slaves. Down to the depths, send every one, tear their lives from the warmth of the sun. Let the sea rise, let them not claim their prize…” And so-on went the ‘song’. At first nothing would happen, save for the gentle bobbing of the waves coming seemingly from both sides of the ocean. Each word she spoke bade the waves to grow a little larger, a little fiercer; she hoped strong enough to physically rock the ships from left to right with each rock growing more and more forceful. The kelpie’s desire is to push the two ships together, little by little. As the speed and strength of the waves she bid to her call increased, she ultimately aimed to smash them against each other, like conkers wielded by children in a schoolyard, and send everyone tumbling into the depths of the ocean with the puny ships not far behind. Naturally, with anchors lowered this was a big ask; perhaps impossible. The kelpie would likely have to be sated by knocking a couple of the disgusting landwalkers from their ships and down into the depths. She could harvest the corpses later.

Hudson opens his mouth to speak his name to Emilia, but finds that he's lacking the energy. His index finger scratches at the hollow of his cheek as he considers this plan of attack. "Yeah, you got it," he breathes out in response, his gaze traveling to Braith, who barks his orders. The alchemist nods, opening his mouth to speak but growing mute when he catches sight of the approaching Nautilus. Beside him, Braith is commanding ship, sending all hands to work. Bodies rush past Hudson, frenetic with orders, threatening to knock him over. "Get on the anchor! I've got your buoys!" shouts Huds to Emilia as he breaks away, making a beeline for the below deck area, where he goes about disturbing the peace until he's found the buoys and rope in question and got men to help him drag it back on deck.

Callamyre cursed beneath her breath; despite her efforts at speeding the ship, the other had still outpaced them -- or perhaps merely had a generous head start. Leaving the Captain's side, she spots Lysander and the mysterious woman at the railing, moments before the latter lunged over the railing. With a gasp, she rushed over to the side as well, her gloved hands firmly gripping the rails as she turned to face Lysander. "What in the gods' name is she doing?" But as she barked the inquiry at the male, it occurred to her that he was not just a man; he smelled distinctly of the ocean, and not just because he was on a ship. His very aroma, beneath all the brine and sweat, was foreign to her, and any further questions she had about Moire were silenced as her hazel eyes grew wide and her brows furrowed. "What -are- you?" came her hoarse, whispered query as she took a half-step back, not out of fear, but to get a better footing as she looked back over the railing. Rather than wait for an answer, the scientist exhaled deeply, shaking her head. "We need to get down there, don't we." The thought of having to swim below such a tumultuous sea - or in any sea for that matter - made her stomach turn. No one had said anything about it being a submerged treasure. Turning her paling face back to Lysander, she asked him, "How does your Captain plan on getting to it?"

Emilia as first sight of the other ship wasted no time in moving her little arse away from the post she had been tied to moments before. Swift little feet moved to carry the woman over to the edge of the ship, a moment of hesitation and a little help from one of the crewmen the Genasi got herself onto the anchor so that she could sink fast enough to the bottom of the ocean whose waves were starting to pick up again. Wild white curls had been quickly pulled back into a long braid before the woman man an ice helmet around her head, allowing it to freeze to her neck. She was no sea creature able to breath in the depths of the ocean. Holding onto the anchor for her life, eyes held tightly shut, as the crew member from the ship the anchor loose over the side of their ship and with it, Emi. It was a mostly straight show down toward the wreckage below, all Emi had to do was hang onto the anchor until it hit the bottom. Eyes closed and breath held the entire trip into the feared ocean waters.

Lysander leans heavily against the railing until he notices Moire sidle up next to him. He instinctively shifts to better shield her from the others, as though by concealing her he can somehow protect her, bound as he is to the ship that means to harm her. And then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she slips away, plunging to the depths below. He narrows his eyes to better observe the ship closest to them to gauge how much progress they've made in raising the Selene's Fortune. Suddenly, a madman is swinging his way onto the ship. In the immediate ensuing chaos, Lysander jerks at his wrists, taking up as much slack in the chain as he can. If he can just get into the water.. It all happens very quickly. Callamyre joins him and poses her question. He looks at her sidelong as he prepares for a gambit at freedom, but the Captain bellows the answer for him, instead. "Get the kraken!" All at once, the crew members close on the kraken, pulling him away from the railing, while others surge forward to fight Braith, who has single-handedly boarded the ship. "On the guns, boys!" Morrigan adds. Others begin to call at the same time. "Kelpie on the port side!" "Hard to aft, we're getting too close, Captain!" "Belay that!" "Fire!" Morrigan picks out Callamyre in the commotion and yells at her. "Do you see that ship, lassie!" He points to the one that is slowly being raised by the other ship. "Get on her. That's where our treasure lies! Get on her first and she'll be ours!" A few seconds later he adds to the rest of his crew, "Capture that kelpie! I want it alive!!"

Ranok tucks his head down against the spray of wind and sea. He was, as per usual, doing something flashy and odd. This time it was a personal watercraft...or as close to one as one can truly describe. It was a simple thing, made of wood and cloth, with an over lack of metal one might expect the smith to have used on something he called his own. A small boat, looked to be based on a rowboat but much sleeker, with not much more room aboard then the man and presumable some gear. Though, being fair, Ranok took a lot of space. An expansive sail, larger then one would expect be needed for such a small craft. A handle to steer the sail, and a firm place to stand. And it was moving fast. Really fast. Much faster then it ought to. Naturally, trickery was afoot, and Ranok was the heart of it. Some basic principals put to good use. His vambrace, made by the master druid Liana, was powered by the energies of life, a small donation made over time. On the surface, useless on the ocean. But...the ocean was teeming with life. More in a square kilometer then ten of a forest. This made the vambrace sing, and Ranok pushed it to use on this discovery. A personal maelstrom followed the craft, cutting the surf like a knife. Its sleek design made it equally as sharp, and some runecrafting that actively rejected the water to reduce drag and make it glide. Ingenious, if he were to say so himself, and utterly useless in the hands of most anyone else. Just as he preferred. It was this way he traveled to Cenril from Rynvale so fast, beholden to no ferry. Guided by simple compass, some more crafted and runed thingamabobs, and the force of having done this plenty of times. So it was why he was moving on the waves, seeing what seemed to be a gathering of ships? Pirates, more like, as who would be here otherwise? Or plunderers, perhaps. Of course, this immediately means he needs to meddle, and this is why he twists his steering bar right towards them.

Moire is in the water for mere moments, the crash and rush of the liquid as she breaks through the surface like the trumpeting of a celebratory homecoming to her ears. Bubbles course along her skin as she dives even deeper, heading for the wreckage - and wholly ignorant of Lysander's near-escape up top. The selkie stops along the way to the sunken ship, a large oyster gleaned from the sands laying thickly upon the bottom. The bivalve is unceremoniously wrenched open, slurped out, and the top portion of the shell broken along the median line between her strong, rough hands to form a sharp, brittle edge. Holding the fractured shell firmly in one hand, the selkie streaks toward the seaborn shrine, intent on rescuing their beloved landmark from being raised by the landwalkers.

Hildegarde || Braith had indeed left Emilia and Hudson to their own devices, knowing full well that his own crew could handle the operation and running of the ship without his supervision and that the First Mate could evacuate passengers such as Crisien if necessary. “Har har!” laughed the seemingly mad Captain as he swung his cutlass down into the shoulder of a passing sailor, giving him a firm kick to throw him off his blade. Braith was just mad, that was all, that could be the only explanation for this behaviour. Or was that first injury a simple declaration that he wasn’t messing around? With all the crew running about the Nautilus, Braith takes a chance and jerks his arm out to grasp a passing crewmember: a short lass with brown hair and puppy-dog eyes, he holds his cutlass to her throat and roars at all aboard the ship: “Cease yer fire on m’ ship! As ye can see, I’ve got t’ first claim so t’ main hoard o’ treasure is mine! Yer claim is a fart in t’ wind, but if ye cease yer firin’, I’ll most generously gi’e ye a share…” He paused to let his delicious offer sink in, “But I’ll kill t’ lass ‘ere if ye dinnae comply!”

Eachna :: Capture the kelpie? Oh hell no, Eachna is not having that. She keeps singing her own little drowning song, though she swims as she chants now and the direction? Well as far away from Captain Morrigan and his desire to bring her aboard his ship. It’s a tricky situation the kelpie finds herself in; stay up at the surface and continue her death song or retreat down to the safety of the depths. That said, the landwalkers seem set on invading the ocean floor too, so perhaps even that didn’t offer the embrace of safety any longer. Then her decision is made for her – a third ship on the horizon. How glorious would it be to smash all three together? Murderous intentions flood the kelpie’s limbs like a life force as she utters further murderous verses to her rhyme. As the vitriol of the words increase (she’s now chanting about tearing the intestines from the pirates and tying them in knots before she drowns them on the ocean floor) so to do the force of the waves from each opposing direction. Each verse is punctuated by Eachna dipping below the surface for a few moments to keep swimming in the hope that any and all those aboard either ship will lose track of her movements.

Callamyre received her answer sooner than she expected, and whirled about on a heel to catch sight of the crew pulling Lysander away from the railing. 'Kraken', that is what they had called him, and as the realization struck her, her jaw went slack as the wheels in her head turned. He was another of the seaborn, just like the mermaid in the fish bowl - and, it would seem, both were being held against her will. Everything in her told her to do something about their situation; she was a researcher of the strange and bizarre, but she would never, ever keep something or someone against its will, especially not after having been one such victim the year before last. But, she knew that now was not the time. While she suspected Lysander was hoping the crew would be thoroughly distracted by the commotion, it would seem not, and she inwardly vowed to learn more about him, and his situation -- at another point in time. Right now, Morrigan was calling out to her, and she turned to follow his line of sight to the submerged ship. As Calla searched the waters, she caught sight of Emilia in the distance before the waters swallowed her up, and another frown found its way to her mouth. Dodging the crew scrambling to subdue Braith, she sent Lysander an apologetic look, but as her eyes faintly took on a golden gleam, perhaps he would see that she was not abandoning him. They were strangers, sure, but she could tell without much effort that he did not want to be here, and if she could help, she would. Moving from one side of the ship to the other, she gathered the strength to do what she must; the ocean would not kill her, not today, but that didn't mean she was one-hundred-percent willing to just dive down into its angry maw. Thinking quickly, she turned to the Captain, and pointed a long finger at Lysander. "I need him to help me get that ship." She said it firmly and loud enough that he would hear the determination in her voice over the clash of metal and the snap of the waves.

Hudson hears, above the din of shouting and - was that a cannon? he's not sure - general chaos happening above deck, the haunting sound of the kelpie's song. The ship resumes lurching about, and with said lurching, his stomach begins to roil. As the men file past him, heading to the deck with the buoys and lengths of rope, Hudson pauses in the stairwell, trying in vain to retch. It's all he's good for. He staggers up onto the deck, gripping the railing. Captain Braith is nowhere to be found, nor is Emilia, who has presumably dipped below the water to complete her mission. On the deck, the men are bringing the buoys to the lip of the ship, ready to disembark and lash them to the ship once it's been raised. "Make sure you get Emilia!" shouts Hudson as he fights the urge to dry heave uselessly and crosses the deck to meet them.

Emilia was going down deeper into the depths of the ocean, her biggest fear come to life. She was being eaten by the water, surely never to rise up again. Those dark thoughts clouded her mind for a moment before she forced herself to away from them to think toward the positive. Her eyes had been held tightly shut in her fear of the ocean that she’d not noticed or caught sight of the seaborn, Moire in the waters too. With a small thump the anchor hit the bottom of the ocean, but with the turmoil of the water it started to drag with the movement of the ship that it was attached to. With it moving the Genasi was moving with it, closer then farther away from the sunken ship. Closer, farther, closer, farther. In the next swing of the anchor in the Genasi launched herself at the sunken ship that was not too far from her in the water. She should have learned to swim when she was human, should have! Too late now. Desperate fingers clung to the broken piece of ship that the farmer landed on to keep the light weight ice woman from floating herself up to the surface. Fingers touching the ship the Genasi would focus all of her magic into starting to coat the sunken ship in a thin layer of frost at first before coating it with the next layer of ice.

Moire reaches the anchor from the Compass vessel just as Emilia pushes off from it. The ship itself is of more concern to the seaborn than the icy woman who now prowls the waters. The selkie makes straight for the anchor - or more aptly, the rope. The makeshift abalone knife in her hand is then set to the thick fibers of the anchor cable, and the selkie begins to furitively saw away at them, looking to loose the rope from its tether and set the ship adrift once more. All the while she is attempting to cut the anchor's rope, the religious fighter keeps a sharp eye out for other landwalkers and various dangers descending from the surface.

Hudson checks the knots, roaming from buoy to buoy. He brings his arm up and whips it into a circle, directing the men to take a buoy and spread out along the deck. The buoys are connected to lines which are connected to harpoons and hooks. The goal would be to sink these hooks into the frozen ship at different points along the ship's perimeter, and then move the buoys along the lines until it's safe to secure them properly to the ship. Around them, the kelpie's song leads a haunting melody, stirring an anxious anticipation as Huds and his team wait for the sunken ship to rise. He doesn't dare look at the Nautilus.

Ranok squints behind the goggles that covered his eyes. With a mental push, he ebbs the wind down some, slowing. He couldn't be sure if he'd been spotted or not. Was that the flash of a blade? Men scrambling to prepare canonade? A fight? The pirate probability seemed more likely more and more. With both ships so close, had they exchanged men? There was no stench of blackpowder on the air, unmistakable to the nose. Nor were any clouds drifting that signified their lighting...yet. That could mean they weren't fighting, but then there was the flash of a saber. Perhaps a slaving ship, taking? Dead or wounded slaves sold for very little, and your typical ferry was not much in the ways of militarily prepared. This confusing mess brings a stormy frown to the smith's face. Possible pirates, slavers, looters...all in what he considered 'his' waters? Unacceptable. But to get more information...how? Well. Time to get a little more involved. The wind sings again, and he pushes forwards, choosing one of the ships, which happened to be the Nautilus. Darting in close, he releases the steering, cutting the line that kept its sails taunt to his commanded maelstrom, and fixes on his target. He'd gotten pretty good at this jumping thing, but it made even him wary to do this over the open waters. A man of metal such as he wasn't exactly what you'd call speaking terms with the sea. He had a thing or two, just in case, but preferred they stayed firmly inside his duster. Left hand extends, towards the mast, the backbone of the ship. Metal was hard coming on the waves, but ships had their nails, in multiple planks, and especially on the mast, with its bands to keep the ship from splitting. This was what he needed. His armor surges, the smell of ozone that he'd gotten much used to surging along with as his armor did its work, spitting out three orbs of electric blue that flew in concert. And then, he pulled, utilizing a field of what was magnetism, and likely gooblygook to pretty much any natural Hollowian. Didn't need to have the math to know it worked, though. The ship was more massive then Ranok, and thus, as the laws of motion and thermodynamics demanded, he moved, and not the ship. He sails in a straight line as if hooked, twisting his feet under himself moments before slamming into the side of the ship. The angle of the water and how he'd pulled meant he needed to make some vertical distance. Holding himself fast, using the ship itself as an anchor, he releases, and tugs himself on the railing above, making it creak. This was enough to lift him to grasp a hold, hauling himself aboard, a weapon smoothly drawn in his hand. Not the most peaceful entrance, but it was better to ask forgiveness in his book.

Lysander | "Captain! We're getting closer!" A sailor calls out from the port side as the ship is being jostled closer and closer to the one raising the Fortune. Morrigan swears under his breath, but his attention is fixed on the interloper aboard his ship, holding a sword to throat of a piece of his property. "Captain?" The call comes from the crow's nest now as the ships bob ever closer. The two nests are dangerously close. "Kill her then!" Morrigan gestures to the selkie. "I've got plenty more where that one came from." He waves them off and yells out, "Get the kraken on the anchor! We need it up, now!" His attention returns to the selkie and Braith. "Let her go and we'll let you go back to your own ship unharmed. The offer expires in fifteen seconds." Morrigan makes use of those fifteen seconds to turn to Callamyre. "If you can get him to help you, you're more than welcome to try." He winks at her. "But I wouldn't hold my breath." Lysander, meanwhile, has fought off all his irritants and taken a place at the anchor wheel. He wraps both calloused hands around one of the spokes and slowly begins to push to wind the anchor up. His muscles strain with each step he takes into the wheel as the anchor slowly begins to wind from the deep. Other crew have lowered boats into the water. Some are equipped with ear plugs. A few of them wield ropes that are twisted together with long chains as they try to speed toward the source of the ominous song that has stirred the ocean into a near frenzy.

Emilia held her fingers clung to the ship below that was the goal of her mission. There was a sound, distant yet close in the water. Turning to look around as the Genasi sent forth ice from her hands onto the sunk ship to cover it in another layer of ice. The ice was sticking well here in the depths of the ocean where the water was colder than above. Sights landed on Moire and her makeshift knife attempting to cut free the living ship she’d just left. Startled, slightly the female let one hand off the boat she clung to pointing a finger at the other being within the water. From that finger, though the chilled water a blast of cold air rush forth toward the selkie, causing an underwater current to push at her with an attempt to make her cease her cutting. Nervous the hand was quickly back upon the ship below sending more cold and ice over it. By now, the ship was coated in a decent layer of ice starting to disrupt it from the ground below, pushing it up just a little. More ice was needed before it would truly start to float up off the ocean floor.

Eachna keeps singing. The men are far more interested in the treasure that lies below the ocean floor and that is how she likes it, “Drown, drown, drown the men, quickly in the sea. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily dead they then shall be.” (Okay, her rhymes aren’t amazing – but they serve the purpose). The waves grow higher and higher and more and more violet. This is the best things about the sea; all it needs is a little persuasion and once it’s started, it’ll just keep rolling. Yet the kelpie’s song continues until the waves reach terrifying pitch. They’re the kind of waves that grow so monstrously high that, the second before they come crashing down, they block out all view of the surrounding ocean. The kind of waves that spill across ship decks and knock anyone who isn’t paying enough attention off balance. And definitely the kind of the waves that would make Hudson lose the content of his stomach again. Poor guy.

Hildegarde || Braith is going to assume that whatever or whoever just came aboard is his friend and not his enemy, because that would just be damn unlucky if it were is enemy. Yet the man is taken aback as Morrigan so easily casts aside the selkie because, well, he would never cast aside his crew! He hated the stink they made and the gold they took, but they were family in their own way and he wouldn’t see them left to suffer if he could avoid it. To prove he’s serious he presses the blade against the throat of the whimpering lass, enough to draw blood yet not kill or seriously wound. Morrigan presumably sticks to his guns, forcing Braith to toss the girl aside and instead look at how he might cause some chaos aboard the ship instead.

Callamyre sure as hell wanted to see a kraken in action -- and not trying to kill her, or so she would hope. She had only heard stories of them, but now she was given the opportunity to attempt to sway one such creature to her aid, and with a curt nod at the captain, she made her way through the fray over to where the anchor wheel stood. It was then that she realized Braith had taken a captive, and if he did not free the girl, she feared the fight would get a whole lot messier. The woman hesitated, torn between wanting to help free the girl Braith held at cutlass-point, as it were, and to get Lysander to bring her down to the ship. In the end, she opted to fight one battle at a time. "I need you to take me down there," she said to Lysander as her eyes began to grow brighter. Adrenaline pumped through the woman with all the commotion, and the race was certainly on. "I can try to raise it if we get there, but ... it is too deep for me alone." This was not necessarily true, but she would rather have a seacreature on her side, than hope to not become a victim of the clearly-angry seaborn who still swam the depths of the ocean around them. After a beat, she added slyly, "It'll get you off this boat, for a time, at least ..."

Ranok wasn't feeling so peachy himself. The rocking sea made him irritable. The whole situation made him irritable. Was that a man holding just a lass hostage? What was there to gain? Who was that, on the wheel? Were those goddamn chains? Was this really a slaver ship? Perhaps Braith was making an escape? A mutiny? What was making the sea turn hostile so quickly? His vambrace, or the connection to it, seems to moan, twisting inside. His casual control over the wind was slipping, retreating into higher and higher demands of attention and energies. And now who seems to be the captain was sending his crew to apprehend him. "Finally...!" Something he knew pretty well. Smoothly, his fingers seem to sink into his weapon. It comes alive, extending long and thin, a stave. All the while, his arm was swinging at the closest crewman that came towards him. This meant that the weapon was swinging, enlongating, and unpredictable. The thing was dense, far more then its appearance seemed to be, and swung hard enough to crack ribs. Ranok wasn't trying to kill - not yet, but any man that took the blow that wasn't made of the sternest stuff wouldn't want to be disagreeing too soon. Roaring, "Who the hell are you people, and why the hell are you in my waters?! I'll crack this ship in two if I don't get some goddamn answers!"

Lysander ignores Callamyre, continuing to circle around the wheel as she speaks to him. Every so often, as he passes her, he regards her skeptically, but he continues with his task of hoisting the anchor before they collide into the other ship. When the anchor is raised, he leans heavily against the wheel well and lifts an arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead with his bicep. The chain attached to one of his wrists slides against the deck. He turns to the doctor to fully regard her now, eyes narrowed in an appraising, scrutinizing stare. "If you raise that ship.." His voice is low, perhaps from lack of use, though he continues to speak after trailing off. "What are you doing here?" A wave hits the boat enough to wash two crew members overboard. Lysander reaches out to grab Callamyre's wrist, holding it tightly to prevent her from going over as well, unless she avoids his grasp. Morrigan continues to shout orders from the wheelhouse, trying to maintain some semblance of order aboard his ship as the seaborn relentlessly attack it ... along with two strangers who appear to be neither seaborn nor bounty seekers. He's also keeping an eye on the ship that's coming up in the near distance -- the Selene's Fortune. His eyes narrow on Ranok when he hears the man's threat, and he laughs, heartily. "Mate!" He waves off his crew who are doubling over in pain from Ranok's attack -- one has been knocked into the ocean and is desperately trying to claw his way back up to the relative safety of the ship. "Nothing save a kraken can split this ship in two, and I've already got one of those." Morrigan gestures to Lysander with a great deal of bravado. "But you tickle my pickle. Who the hell are you?"

Hildegarde || Braith, unlike Lysander, is not prepared for the wave that strikes the Nautilus and it sends him overboard and into the water. Braith is a great swimmer, I mean, he’s a sailor. He’s going to be fine, assuming the damn seaborn keep their hands off of him. Yet Braith could not particularly care that he has fell overboard. It is the resounding crack he hears that kills him inside a little bit: the wave had struck his ship so powerfully it threatened to tear his own ship asunder. Maybe he would die here in the sea and not have to answer to Tristram about why his ship had been torn in two. The mast creaks and groans from strain, there’s even a visible crack in the hull of the ship. “M’ ship!” he breathes, head dipping below the waters.

Moire feels the creeping chill of the Genasi's efforts to distract her, though she soldiers through it. The deep waters a cold and black, and though the seal maiden does not live in them, she has ventured into them enough to weather the icy dart aimed toward her. No doubt it will melt soon, anyhow, given the warm and tumultuous waters around them. The selkie keeps sawing away at the rope holding the anchor, her strength and acclimation to how things move and react underwater helping to speed her efforts along.

Emilia wasted no time after the initial blast of chilled air was sent through the water at the other creature within the water. There was a realization in her mind that if she was clinging to the ship that she could easily float up to the surface with the sunken ship and not depend on the anchor being raised to save her life from the depths of the water. The ice-helmet that she’d made herself in order to dive down into the ocean was not going to last with air forever for the land-woman. A deep breath in and all energy focused into the task of raising the ship the Genasi let loose wave after wave of layer of frozen chill from her small hands coating the ship in a thick layer of ice that would lift it like ice cubes in a drink up from its former home at the bottom of the sea. There at the surface of the ocean was a loud whoosh like sound as the frozen ship finally broke free from the water. Almost like a zombie from a graveyard the ship emerged to the surface of the ocean, floating atop the water frozen over by the ice of the Genasi. It was at this point that ice-woman’s air tank of ice was gone leaving her to inhale a deep breath of the air above. Scrambling from that point the Genasi quickly moved herself up to standing on the deck of the frozen ship now floating on the surface. A whisper on the whisper guided by magic would reach Hudson’s ears, “Attack the buoys now before she sinks again!”

Eachna ’s song finally ends. The waves will continue to rage for a good while, even without her song to aid them. And, to be perfectly honest, the kelpie is a self-serving creature. A couple of crew members that the bottom of the ocean is enough to sate her desire for disaster, at least briefly. But there is one in particular that catches her attention. It’s Braith, the sailor who had been knocked from the board of the Nautilus. With a particularly nasty smile, the kelpie would dip beneath the water and transform into her true equine form. Granting her superior speed through the raging waves, Eachna keeps beneath the break zone to prevent her course being broken by the heavy waves. Approaching Braith from beneath the water, the kelpie would grab hold of his garments with her teeth and drag him along with her deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean. Perhaps he’d have his wishes granted and never have to return to the surface and deal with Tristram after all.

Callamyre dodged and side-stepped to stay out of Lysander's way as he continued to raise anchor, her hazel gaze rimmed in gold as it remained steadfastly on the stranger. "I am here to get a treasure," she eventually replies coyly, flashing the kraken a lop-sided grin. But then he grips her wrist, keeping her from being tossed like a ragdoll over the side, but as his hand curled around her skin, just below her sleeve and above her glove, whatever faint smirk lingered in the corner of her mouth faded and she locked her gaze on Lysander. Her stomach jumped, and she hoped to gods that her empathy would not affect him -- she had never tried to 'read' a kraken before, or really done anything at all near one, if we're being frank, and alarm entered her gaze. As soon as she could, she jerked her hand back, her other hand reaching for the anchor wheel for support before her grin returned. "Well, are you coming or not?" she said to him. The sooner they were off this ship and heading for the Fortune, the better. Releasing the wheel, she reached out for Lysander, safely with her gloved hand. "Last chance, before I dive in without you." The woman's golden gaze swept across the deck, noting the arrangement of the crew, and the new member Morrigan was addressing before leveling her gaze with Lysander once more. "How far can it go?" She meant his chain of course; she would, if she could, try to break it while the captain was preoccupied, and if not, she hoped they could reach the ship even with it.

Hudson and his team of men brace themselves as wave after wave tosses their ship. Huds, for his part, rather undaintily dry heaves onto his shoes. Blanched, he manages to rise to his feet, and clutches the railing of the ship after that, his mouth forming the words, "Come on, Emilia," as he stares out at the spot where Emilia had vanished. He wonders if their earlier tentacled assailant has returned to finish the job it had started. He's vaguely aware that something must be happening on the Nautilus, but it's not his responsibility, and suddenly the chaos reaches a crescendo as the sunken ship rises from the depths of the sea and a gigantic wave crashes into the hull. Huds slams into a nearby crate. Water slides down the deck. "Harpoons, the buoys, go! Go! Careful of Emilia!" he shouts at his people, who scramble to their feet to obey him. The buoys are launched into the sea, and with them the harpoon lines, which, with a little luck, find purchase in their target. The deck meanwhile angles itself ominously, and it occurs to Huds that the ship he's on is going under, crippled by the water that's filling the area below deck. "We're sinking!" shouts the alchemist, and he balances on the brim of the boat as it turns to an even sharper angle, threatening to go down perpendicular to the water, a la Titanic. He doesn't stay to find out what happens next. He jumps, into the water. And isn't seen again...

Ranok had his eyes hidden behind his sea sprayed goggles, though they flashed dangerously, "Then you're a fool." Given space, thankfully he didn't need to clear any space for himself. The ship's pitching was making this hard to to keep footing. his boots had claws that could easily bite the wooden surface to provide sure footing, but that was unwise considering what he wished to do next. "Who am I? I am the law." None of this was good. He was, in actuality, confident he could crack the ship. Somehow. But, given the sea's condition, that was unwise. His little cutter would be drifting far off, and she didn't handle so well in rough seas like this. Plus, this was a slave ship, as far as he could guess. Who knew what souls would sink to the bottom? But if they were trusting them to run the ship...eyes had spotted Lysander by the helm, it seemed. Or anchor. It was a wheel and pretty important looking. Perhaps they knew enough to get them back, run aground. Getting control of the situation via words was as much on the wind as so much sea spray. Fighting every man on the ship was also a stupid idea. So. Perhaps ask someone with more vested interest in giving answers? His knees flex. He reaches out to the mast again, and Pulls himself again. But instead directly towards, he Pushes himself off against it, relying on the the weight of the ship. The results were a fairly curved line, towards where Callamyre and Lysander were. The ship's rolls, though, were something not easily anticipated. He nearly overshoots, and only a jab of his staved, which had grown a sharp hook in flight, saved him from the waves. A curl of wood, a deep gouge, and purchase. The close call would have made any lesser man want to catch their breath and say a prayer. Ranok just ground his teeth. Out of Lys's reach, with his stave bitten into the deck, and pretty much ignoring the captain, he addresses the unknown to him kraken, his voice raised enough to combat any gale, "Boy! You there, at the winch. Tell me true: what the hell is this ship? Are you a captive? If so, would you like to be free?"

Lysander surveys Callamyre with discernible skepticism, as though he isn't quite sure what her angle is. He can hear the other ship breaking apart and he maneuvers away from the vampire to the side of the ship. He knows what is below the surface. He knows if he were among them, he could stop all of this. Once again he looks at this strange woman and her strange cool skin and how he feels a strange sense of concern ... concern for something that obviously isn't from the sea. The Selene's Fortune rises from the depths and his expression notably darkens. Instead of answering Callamyre -- her answer is evident by the way the chain is almost taut when he nears the railing, to prevent him from being able to submerge himself in the water -- he turns and leaves her. Morrigan spares a grin for Callamyre whether she notices it or not, and then he is calling for the crew to man the sails. The claim is staked. The treasure is theirs. It's time to return home. The Captain turns to see what progress is happening with the interlopers. Braith is off, eaten by now, no doubt, and the second -- Ranok -- is flying through the air again, and toward the kraken at that. Morrigan growls and yells, "Get my kelpies! I want this fool off my ship!" He turns to the navigator and gestures, "Home, Jaime. We'll return for our sea trophies another day." From below, a pair of kelpies surge up the staircase and charge at Ranok, their intent murderous.

Emilia was atop a previously sunken ship that was frozen over while the ship she sailed into the sea on was going down. The Genasi watched as people leapt overboard to swim one way or another for those that were not taken by the seaborns. Braith was dead, she’d not miss him. After all he did call her a wench. Later she’d send someone who could swim and such to look for Mr. Buzzed Foamstach that had gone over the edge of the ship. It was the bouys that felt the ship floating, but where was Crisien? There she could see the ill captain had burst from the ship all dragon turned flying off into the sky and off to fetch another ship she hoped. Trapped on a raised ship, floating in the water and frozen over the Genasi would turn to searching the ship while she awaited the return of Crisien to come save her.

Callamyre exhaled a great sigh, for she had come all this way, and felt as though nothing had actually been accomplished; she had neither fought for the treasure herself, nor been able to reach out to Lysander or anyone else held captive aboard. With Lysander moving away from her now, her gaze bore into his back as a frown settled into her lips. It was then that she noticed Ranok, and as she heard his words and Lysander's pointed ignoring of them, something in her felt a great sense of sadness; something was definitely not right, and she moved behind Lysander, kneeling to trail her fingers along the chain after tugging off her left glove. It was cold to her touch, colder than her own hands, and filled with all that it signified regarding the kraken's captivity. Quickly, she pulled her glove back on, and turned a shrewd gaze toward Morrigan. The gold in her gaze remained, glowing bright beneath her pale lashes, before she turned back toward the railing, her mind reeling with the evening's events and unease crept into her bones. Although it would seem the adventure was over for now, she felt as though something else was just beginning; she would not so easily give up when she had a purpose. Although Lysander didn't realize it, Calla knew, far too intimately, what he was going through, and it pained her to feel helpless, just as she had in her own captivity years ago. Leaning against the railing, she watched as the other ship dipped further into the ocean.

Moire starts shanking crew members of both ships as they fall overboard, stabbing into their torsos with the makeshift abalone knife until the waters begin to swirl with red. No doubt the crew that has just raised the sunken ship will have fun fending off the sharks that are sure to answer spilled blood's call as it rides the waves and sinks into the depths. The bodies are held underwater until they stop struggling, and are then simply cast aside for scavengers and predators alike. At least the kelpies will eat well tonight.

Ranok was...surprised. The man turned down his offer? Why? Was it because he wasn't captive? Punished, maybe? A greater duty? Who was the man that took captive and then leapt overboard? Questions tumbled in his head, and this, too, made him unhappy. Then again, what didn't? His head turns a scant moment to survey the ship, taking it in. Callamyre's face, the Captain Morrgian, any crew that stuck out, submitting it all to memory. Any markings the ship had, even her helm, he'd remember. There'd be a great many questions spreading out in Rynvale tonight, coin offered in exchange for whispers. A mystery had plopped itself into Ranok's path, and what need be said about how that made Ranok feel? But then creatures were sicced on Ranok. Kelpies. Those were the ones that sang? "Ugh, I swear I'll be memorizing every damn seamonster in the book." He doesn't move to fight, though. There was too much uncertainty, now. Not enough information to act. There was no trickery, and another daredevil leap in these waves was poor judgement. Instead, he yanks the tip of his stave out, the thing shifting into a hook. Off the rail he goes, holding fast. His skiff, bobbing helplessly in the waves, located. Miraculously, and likely a byproduct of the ship being a direct target of the lashings, his craft was grinding the hull, turning to frays. A bit of an adjustment and he lands into the thing, hopefully before any of those things chase him into the waves. A shove, and a screaming effort poured into his vambrace, and the wind snaps his sail open, cutting him away. Only one final glance was given back to the ship, to see her in profile. His mood matched Callaymyre; frustration and helplessness abound. But he'd fix that.

Lysander watches the waters redden below and he knows his kin is deeply unhappy about the raising of the ship, as is he. Dark clouds are gathering on the horizon, promising a second storm, likely of epic proportions. The kraken disappears through a doorway belowdecks, leaving the others to their celebration of finding the ship and making a successful claim. Morrigan surveys his domain. To his first mate, upon observing Ranok's exit, he mutters, "Find out who that is ... what that is." His eyes narrow on Callamyre. He warns her simply, "Careful, lass," and then leaves her be for the journey homeward. When they dock, she is free to go, but they write her name on the claim slip they file with the Cenril Port Authority.