Famh cannot for the life of her remember one single thing that the ollamhs and filidhs of Carnasse have told her about protocol in this situation. Being Famh, she takes what SHE views as a balanced, respectful middle path ... and tells a story.
"My lairds and ladies," she suddenly declares, turning herself about and raising her voice just sufficiently to be clearly understood as she addresses the gathered assemblage on the quay. "The ither debt o' gratitude I owe is tae the filidhs that ha' sae kindly humorit ma wee tad presumptuous girlhood dream tae some day join their exaltit ranks. I kenna much aboot the Ta'ashim whit Sir Almericwent tae fight in the Crusade; but ane o' the ollamhs o' Carnasse that has been sae kind tae me says that at the least, they respect filidhs an' poetry almost as much as we Thules dae. For the most part. He tellt me a merry story of ane o' their kings whae wis an exception and tried tae deny the poets their due reward. Let me see if I can recall it for ye, by way o' showin' that I wis an attentive pupil."
"This mean King, whae's name is no recordit, haed the faculty o' retainin' in his memory ilka ode -- nae matter hou lang -- after he had heard it only ance. His chief groom o' the bedchamber could do the like by any ode he'd heard twice; and the Queen could recall white'er she'd heard thrice. So when a filidh cam' tae praise this King he mad' a condition wi' him that if the ode he recitit wisnae new, he'd get naught; but if it wis, the King would gi' him the weight in gold o' whitever it wis written upon. The filidh, consentin', wid recite his ode; and the King wid say, "It isnae new; I've kennt it some years nou.," and wid repeat whit he'd heard. Then he wid say, "And this memlook (whit they call their grooms o' chambers) also retains it in his memory.," and would order the groom tae repeat it, which havin' heard it twice he could dae. The King would then say to the poet, "My Queen also can repeat it.," and upon the hint she wid repeat whit she haed nou heard thrice. And so the poet wid gae away empty handit, until ane o' their most famous heard o' the trick and determinit upon outwitting the King. He accordingly composit an ode made up o' very difficult words; but this wis no his only preparation. O' a second ye will presently hear; and the third wis, tae assume the raiment o' a nomad o' the Kaikuhuran Desert ... for the King wis ane o' those under the Sultan whae claims rule o' that fearsome place ... that he might no be known, coverin' his face bar only the eyes wi' a veil such as those people use for protection frae the sun and wind. Thus disguised, he went tae the palace and havin' askit permission tae enter the court, salutit the King. This monarch said tae him, "Whence art thou, O brother o' the Kaikuhurans, and whit dost thou desire ?" The poet answerit, "May Gatanades increase the power o' the King! I am a poet o' such a tribe, and hae composit an ode in praise of our laird."-"O brother o' the Kaikuhurans," said the King, " hast thou heard o' our condition ?" -" Nae,"answerit the filidh; "and whit is it, O King o' the age?"-" It is , " replied the King, "that if the ode be not thine, we give thee nae reward at all ; and if it be thine, we give thee the weight in gold o' whit it is written upon. "-" Hou, " said the poet (who wis callit ... El- Asma - ee, or summat o' that sort), "should I assume to myself that which belongs to another, and knowing, too, that lyin' before kings is one o' the basest o' actions ? But I agree to this condition, O our lord the King." So he repeatit his ode. The King, perplexit, and unable tae remember aught of it, made a sign tae the memlook-but he had retainit naught ; and then he callit tae the Queen, but she also was unable tae repeat a word."
" "O brother o' the Kaikuhurans," said the King, "thou hast spoken truth, and the ode is thine without doubt : I hae never heard it before : produce, therefore, what it is written upon, and we will give thee its weight in money, as we have promisit.”—“ Wilt thou, " said the poet, "send ane of the attendants to carry it ?"-" To carry whit?," askit the King ; "is it no upon a paper here in thy possession ?"—"Nae, O our laird the King," replied the poet ; "at the time I composit it I couldnae procure paper nor vellum upon which tae write it, and could find naught but a fragment o'a marble column left me by my father ; so I engravit it upon this ; and it lieth in the coort o' the palace" He had brought it, wrapped up, on the back of a ... camel." (Famh hesitates a moment before bringing the name of this strange foreign steed to mind; but eventually she manages it and moves on to her conclusion.) "The King, tae fulfil his promise, wis obligit tae exhaust his treasury ; and tae prevent a repetition of this trick (of which he afterwards discovered El- Asma'ee to have been the author) , in future rewardit the poets according to the usual custom of kings. But nane of them receivit sic rich treasure as the kindness o' Carnasse that ye ha' showerit sae generously on our laird the Baron that it has e'en extended to this small company in his service."
Her merry peals of laughter at the Ta'ashim filidh's wit have proven most infectious and concealed any flaws in etiquette she may have committed in her smooth... or not ... transition to a final general compliment to both the Duke and his duchy (Performance(Storytelling) 10 with TOC for Advantage). In any case, as she turns back to the retinue Ori is almost certain he hears her murmur, "Nou I'll probably be expectit to ken enow aboot arms tae help Ori design his new escutcheon that he'll hae tae ha' as a new-raisit armiger ... let me see noo ... a greatclub displayed gules rampant upon a bend fess vert azure o' handaxes ... and a bull's horns, we'll ha' tae ha' at least ane pair o' bull's horns somewhither, nae doubt upon the fess quartered bar or. And I wonder if -- och, nae, that's much too plaintonguit tae ha' the motto in plain Elleslandic, I'll ha' tae translate it intae Auld Selentine (Latin) or summat o' that sort, 'twillnae sound sae irreverent then ... quite courtly, indeed ... work in the name o' Market Cross and naebody'd be " From these snatches of dialogue he concludes two things. The first is that while Famh's heart is certainly in the right place, the terms and concepts she is enthusiastically frescoing together don't QUITE seem to match the tone of what he remembers overhearing in the past of heralds of the (whatever the specific office is that grants coats of arms) discussing their calling. The other is that while she might have a natural herald's tongue, he would be wise to check any recommendations of hers which depend on specific factual knowledge with OTHER heralds of the Baron's court until Famh has had the time to acquire present knowledge and sort it out from the vast squirrel's nest of old lore with which her head is so well filled.
And as if summoned by his thoughts of squirrels, the full, wavy red tresses which flow down from that head stir and part as Ethlinn's inquisitive, slightly anxious face peeps out at the blended familiar and unfamiliar faces and sights. After soothing any incipient jealousy by explaining that she only talked to Salt-brother first because he'd gone out to a place Mom and Dad wanted to find out about and if it had been a forest of course she would have asked Ethlinn, she was able to slowly broach the topic of the sea voyage that intervened between Ethlinn and the warm sunny forests down towards where the birds go in the cold time where Mom and Dad live/ At first the little squirrel hadn't understood that Famh meant anything more far reaching than a different kind of the big giant hollow tree they were living in now that Ethlinn really really liked because all the nice ladies were just as kind to her as Mom was and gave her treats. When she did grasp that they would be going out on one of those bare limbed trees with the strange thing coming out of its roots that tossed and waved on the scary blue stuff just outside the big tree's hollow, the ensuing wide-eyed frozen stare of terror had not only required Famh's immediate relaxation of the diet that last busybody lady had tried to put Ethlinn on with mean remarks about how big her tummy was getting, and assurances that Mom and Dad had already climbed the scary looking trees and although Mom and Dad didn't like them either they had REALLY come that way over a much bigger puddle of blue stuff than Ethlinn had ever seen just to take her in and give her a new life in the love of Primroseblossom and Gatanades and the Cailleach and all those other nice people Mom keeps talking about. And when Famh also promised that as soon as they got off the bare-limbed trees they'd be back in another big giant tree and then a few days after that in the nice sunny forest, the squirrel consented so long as she got to nest in Mom's hair during the scary times. Her paws are in fact perched firmly upon Famh's left shoulder. which has been filled out by the hard exercise it has seen and is further swelled by even Vardi's discarded girlhood gambeson. "She needna ha' tauld me she wis TEN when this wis mait!," she thinks to herself as she has to shift her shoulder slightly up to feel the scrabbling of Ethlinn's paws. But the tone of her voice, even in her rather complex mind, is that of an amused friend rolling her eyes half in jest at some of her own utterances. She reaches up and strokes one of Ethlinn's paws reassuringly, wondering how to break it to her that even though the blue stuff she sees now seems to go on till eternity it is only a small part of the blue stuff the retinue has now to cross; and she prays to gods she hasn't thought of in quite some time when she thinks of the return trip around Cape Calogan.
The reception to Famhs extortions is more polite than enthusiastic but it seems well taken and both the betrothed and most of Carnasse household give at least an encouraging smile.
Coming to the docks goods, stores and gifts are loaded aboard a rather smaller cog than the ship which brought them north, it would be cramped aboard but they were assured the little ship, Avocet, would get them home much faster than their journey north. Baron Aldred seemed untroubled and boarded and went immediately to his cabin with a nod to Ori.
The old Mercanian first mate ushered the retinue aboard, " C'mon on yer hop.....we'll be underway once loadings done."
(OOC; is this Mercanian the same man who was first mate on our journey north, or have we changed crews along with the ship? As I recall at least some of the party got to know a few of the former crew slightly ... )
(EDIT: just for curiousity, I should make sure to say. Famh sees no reason not to do as the fellow asks and board 'on the hop' unless someone else does)
Ori climbs aboard the ship and follows the Barron to his cabin. "Oi Sir, I'm not sure how much of my... fondness for the voyage we took to get here. Well none the less, I will probably not make for good company on the return either so for the sake of all involved, Thatch will be the lad to speak to if you are in need of communicating with me. I will make sure he posted close by if you are ever in need of of us, Aye?"
Ori dreaded this trip but couldn't wait to be back either. He wondered how his new position in life would be received by those who knew him before. He wished much to bury that old life, but the mask in his pack tells him otherwise. Blasted I should have tried leaving the bloody thing here. He found himself thinking of the old times more and more. Oh how far he thought he had gone in life then to how far down he went.
Ori wasn't sure why he was singled out of the retinue, he didn't know half the things Famh knew and didn't spend time with folk with titles like Thatch. Cainneach was as much of a straight shooter as Ori himself. Perhaps the Grey's starting at his temples gave the look of wisdom. He sure didn't feel wise. Ori knew he didn't deserve all of this, and his history wasn't as clean as most assume about him, though Ori knew folks of power hands weren't clean. Certainly nothing was clean around Ori on these blasted stomach turning vessel! Ori could already feel the rocking starting to unsettle his stomach whike still in the port. This was going to be a long journey home for Ori, long in deed.
(OOC; is this Mercanian the same man who was first mate on our journey north, or have we changed crews along with the ship? As I recall at least some of the party got to know a few of the former crew slightly ... )
(EDIT: just for curiousity, I should make sure to say. Famh sees no reason not to do as the fellow asks and board 'on the hop' unless someone else does)
The first day aboard Avocet was uneventful and the wind favourable, the small ship made it around the point of Cape Calogan before midnight and they came shoreward of some of the larger islands as they tracked southward toward Brymstone.
The companions were, for the most part, sleeping soundly in the lee of the hold when a cry went up from the lookout just before dawn. Rising and looking ahead they could see a small longship rounding an island and driving toward them at speed under oar.
Ori, half full bucket still in hand, staied sitting in the corner of room. Hard to sleep with typhoon in the gut. "Oi, Cain!" Still hardly able to catch his breath. "Go see what all the motion... I mean commotion is all about. Send Salt to fetch me if there's something a foot Aye?" Here comes another tsunami, hold it, hold it, atleast till the other leave...too late. "Bloody mess, nevermind, just help me up, I have to empty this tiny cup anyways I might as well get a look for myself. Unless you want to throw this overboard for me like a good lad?" Ori was as sick as could be, but they hadn't been sailing long enough for Ori to slump into emo Ori yet, though he was well on his way there.
Cainneach shook Almeric's hand firmly and maintained friendly eye contact while giving a courteous nod to the Capellar. He bowed respectfully to the Lady and accepted all these gifts with gratitude, though he felt strange being seen off in such a manner. After this little ceremony, the forester quickly made his way back to Almeric. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but you are a valiant man and I appreciate your patience with my ... lack of experience. I truly hope you and your betrothed have a long and happy life together, wherever the winds shall carry you. Until the next time, Sir."
Cainneach then takes in Famh's tale, enjoying the cleverness of it immensely. He could only imagine his beloved in the place of the artful filidh. She was clearly suited to the role, if somewhat unrefined at the moment. A gleam of love and deep appreciation was in his eye and a delighted smile on his lips as she returned to his side. He slid his hand into hers and whispered, "A wonderful tale, magnificently rendered, leannan!"
After collecting his possessions and soothing Salt as well as possible, Cainneach boards the little ship along with his comrades, heartened by the claims of a shorter voyage. He felt for Ori, knowing their new leader would face a rough trip, and resolved to be as helpful as possible. Little did he know that he would be called upon to defend their vessel from likely the very raiders he had attempted to learn about just before their departure. As the call for archers was raised, Cainneach responded by stepping forward, longbow ready!
The longship continued its relentless approach, the Avocet kept trying to get around it and back to open water but the little cog was no match for the speed and manouverability of the Mercanian? ship and its obviously skilled captain.
The longship came within a hundred feet of the Avocet even as the lookout called out " 'Ware! We're shallow to starboard! 'Ware rocks."
Baron Aldred and his staff were on deck and fully kitted for battle, the Captain called out to Aldred and the Companions, " We need to drop sails and let them approach....if we scrape bottom at this speed we'll rip her guts out in short order."
" Unless any of you are carrying miracles on you?", something about the way he said that told you all that stories of your exploits in Beltayne and beyond had filtered through the populace and even to the transients at the docks.....though how much truth was in those filtered stories would be hard to say.
Baron Aldred shook his head, his house chaplain was already praying for Gatandes to intervene but the seas were uncooperative so far....and his ' Scribe' Myrrdin is still many leagues away.
Baron Alrded turned to the companions with a raised eyebrow....
"Well, Sir Almeric had that cursid undead drum thing so we left our miracle behind. Thatch and Cainneach will support arrow volley, Fahm can light a few fires on there ship, probably could luanch some oil to catch their deck a blaze. Hee job is just to keep them busy on their own ship." Ori dumps his pail over the side, "I'll head up the welcoming committee if they decide to join us." Ori had a suspicion that this could happen, but dispite all his talks about preparing for such an event got overshadowed by Ori's concern for the trip on himself. Well hopefully the others did better heeding his warnings.
Famh returns the Baron's gaze steadily. " Aye, we neit miracles, my Lord ... be the god wha sends thaim wha they may." Then her own eyebrow quirks up slightly, and one corner of her mouth quivers in the faint beginnings of a grin as she hears Ori's voice laying out the retinue's order of battle. "Hard heitit common sense will take us a few leagues ower ... " She busies herself in the next few minutes readying herself for her role in the upcoming skirmith. Calling out to the old first mate, whom she had come to know slightly the day before wheedling his old sea tales from him every time he had a watch below (Persuasion in log: 17) , she asks him to bring her some pitch-soaked rags and hempen rope fra' the ship's stores, and, "a few ballast stanes. No heavy burdens, juist anes the weight an' size o' a guid fist o' salt pork -- heavy enow to crack a skull, but small enow tae launch. Can your men fetch me several quickly?" While she is waiting for the man to respond, she begins going through her own gear, drawing out the following items:
three torches
a coil of untarred hempen rope
a blanket, naturally also untarred
and Snathad in its needle form
=== /*/ ===
Held action: catapult("Choose one object weighing 1 to 5 pounds within range that isn’t being worn or carried. The object flies in a straight line up to 90 feet in a direction you choose before falling to the ground, stopping early if it impacts against a solid surface. If the object would strike a creature, that creature must make a Dexterity saving throw (DC12). On a failed save, the object strikes the target and stops moving. When the object strikes something, the object and what it strikes each take 3d8(12) bludgeoning damage.") using pitch rag-wrapped ballast stones ignited according to Famh's best knowledge and reasoning as to what method will be most reliable (possible choices include a preignited hemp rope wick in a 'fire nest' like travelers of the period carried live coals in, and a magical followup ignition with starry wisp)
First target will be the raider's sails and rigging, but she will also be planning a second shot at deck level that aims in general for the mast / bulkhead / wooden whatever that has the largest clump of enemy crew around it
Wild surge from recent TOC : 37(results description TBA)
Thatch wasn’t quite sure of the finer points of serving as a page or messenger, his service at the Dayne household notwithstanding, and he was more comfortable dealing with the animals in the stable. Thankfully, the Baron, comfortable in his cabin, had little need for messages and Thatch spends most of the first day of the voyage outside the cabin door working on the beginnings of a wood carving.
The cries of the lookout rouses him from an uneasy sleep and the call for archers sends him scrambling to his feet, short bow and quiver close at hand. He joins Cainneach and the ship's complement of archers at Ori’s instruction and steps up to the railing, arrow nocked. He glances over as Famh lays out an assortment of articles on the deck and nods in recognition. “Ah, good idea, Famh. We can also wrap the tips of some of our arrows in rags and set them aflame if it would help your cause."
(before the Draochta (fates) require her to pay the price of the very nice dice rolls she's been getting recently, though ... )
As the grizzled Mercanian turns to respond to Famh's request, her active, squirrel-like mind dredges up a memory from the past that might just be useful in reconciling the crew to her incipient display of uncanny powers. She puts on her best smile as the man approaches and prepares to sweeten down the wickedly sinful lie she is about to tell him with a wee posset of the truth. "Thank ye so kindly, Sir. Ye'll have heard the rumours of ma gaberlunzie past, if ye've met any o' the sailors that broucht us north on the Linden, or paid heit tae some o' the more exaggerated tales o' our recent campaign tae the north. Weel, there's a wee grain o' truth tae the wildest o' them, and I'd best tell ye nou ere I scare half the crew tae deeth. I grew up in Brymstone, and ane year when I was a lass, a Mercanian longship put intae port wi a sea-witch aboard." (true). "I wis fascinatit wi' all the auld lore and stories then, sae I mait a nuisance o' masel' until some o' the crew took pity on me and tault me tales o' their life at sea." (also true). "E'en the sea-witch wis sae impressit wi' ma curiosity that she thoucht I might mak' an apprentice tae her someday, and she sharit a few o' her lesser secrets, includin' a wee piseogue that I'm, hopin' tae use tae cast these stanes at yon raider wi' mair force than any onager or springwald coud."(the most absolutely baldfaced lie Famh has ever told. In Mercanian seafaring society the sea witch has a rank at LEAST comparable to Famh's revered filidhs (https://drive.google.com/file/d/17LyxgK6JNiy1wSKYkNK8n0le7mwl_1P5/view?usp=sharing, p. 64), and while some might be kind enough to take pity on Famh as she is describing, this particular one took absolutely no notice of the grimy-faced ragamuffin lass smelling of sheep who kept on hanging about pestering the crew, beyond a vague hope that the girl would shut up and go away before that storm she could practically smell in her BONES swept in and kept them in this godsforsaken Thulish wayport any longer than was absolutely necessary).. "I'm tellin' ye so ye can warn the crew and no have thaim distractit bi fearin' they haed a heathen aboard. Nou, in ordinary times I'm a proper Gatanades-fearin' lass whae wid niver ha' tae do wi' sic forbidden powers. But yon crew taught me a Mercanian sayin' ower tae explain why the sea-witch wis no only toleratit but honourit. It went aught lak this: ' Gatanades for the dry land; but outboard, aught can happen; and Aegir and Njordyet rule the sea. ' "
This small matter taken care of (or not), she turns to respond to the wiry groom's comment. "Aye, Thatch. The mair fire aboard that ship, the less time they'll ha' tae fash wi' us."
Famh cannot for the life of her remember one single thing that the ollamhs and filidhs of Carnasse have told her about protocol in this situation. Being Famh, she takes what SHE views as a balanced, respectful middle path ... and tells a story.
"My lairds and ladies," she suddenly declares, turning herself about and raising her voice just sufficiently to be clearly understood as she addresses the gathered assemblage on the quay. "The ither debt o' gratitude I owe is tae the filidhs that ha' sae kindly humorit ma wee tad presumptuous girlhood dream tae some day join their exaltit ranks. I kenna much aboot the Ta'ashim whit Sir Almeric went tae fight in the Crusade; but ane o' the ollamhs o' Carnasse that has been sae kind tae me says that at the least, they respect filidhs an' poetry almost as much as we Thules dae. For the most part. He tellt me a merry story of ane o' their kings whae wis an exception and tried tae deny the poets their due reward. Let me see if I can recall it for ye, by way o' showin' that I wis an attentive pupil."
"This mean King, whae's name is no recordit, haed the faculty o' retainin' in his memory ilka ode -- nae matter hou lang -- after he had heard it only ance. His chief groom o' the bedchamber could do the like by any ode he'd heard twice; and the Queen could recall white'er she'd heard thrice. So when a filidh cam' tae praise this King he mad' a condition wi' him that if the ode he recitit wisnae new, he'd get naught; but if it wis, the King would gi' him the weight in gold o' whitever it wis written upon. The filidh, consentin', wid recite his ode; and the King wid say, "It isnae new; I've kennt it some years nou.," and wid repeat whit he'd heard. Then he wid say, "And this memlook (whit they call their grooms o' chambers) also retains it in his memory.," and would order the groom tae repeat it, which havin' heard it twice he could dae. The King would then say to the poet, "My Queen also can repeat it.," and upon the hint she wid repeat whit she haed nou heard thrice. And so the poet wid gae away empty handit, until ane o' their most famous heard o' the trick and determinit upon outwitting the King. He accordingly composit an ode made up o' very difficult words; but this wis no his only preparation. O' a second ye will presently hear; and the third wis, tae assume the raiment o' a nomad o' the Kaikuhuran Desert ... for the King wis ane o' those under the Sultan whae claims rule o' that fearsome place ... that he might no be known, coverin' his face bar only the eyes wi' a veil such as those people use for protection frae the sun and wind. Thus disguised, he went tae the palace and havin' askit permission tae enter the court, salutit the King. This monarch said tae him, "Whence art thou, O brother o' the Kaikuhurans, and whit dost thou desire ?" The poet answerit, "May Gatanades increase the power o' the King! I am a poet o' such a tribe, and hae composit an ode in praise of our laird."-"O brother o' the Kaikuhurans," said the King, " hast thou heard o' our condition ?" -" Nae,"answerit the filidh; "and whit is it, O King o' the age?"-" It is , " replied the King, "that if the ode be not thine, we give thee nae reward at all ; and if it be thine, we give thee the weight in gold o' whit it is written upon. "-" Hou, " said the poet (who wis callit ... El- Asma - ee, or summat o' that sort), "should I assume to myself that which belongs to another, and knowing, too, that lyin' before kings is one o' the basest o' actions ? But I agree to this condition, O our lord the King." So he repeatit his ode. The King, perplexit, and unable tae remember aught of it, made a sign tae the memlook-but he had retainit naught ; and then he callit tae the Queen, but she also was unable tae repeat a word."
" "O brother o' the Kaikuhurans," said the King, "thou hast spoken truth, and the ode is thine without doubt : I hae never heard it before : produce, therefore, what it is written upon, and we will give thee its weight in money, as we have promisit.”—“ Wilt thou, " said the poet, "send ane of the attendants to carry it ?"-" To carry whit?," askit the King ; "is it no upon a paper here in thy possession ?"—"Nae, O our laird the King," replied the poet ; "at the time I composit it I couldnae procure paper nor vellum upon which tae write it, and could find naught but a fragment o'a marble column left me by my father ; so I engravit it upon this ; and it lieth in the coort o' the palace" He had brought it, wrapped up, on the back of a ... camel." (Famh hesitates a moment before bringing the name of this strange foreign steed to mind; but eventually she manages it and moves on to her conclusion.) "The King, tae fulfil his promise, wis obligit tae exhaust his treasury ; and tae prevent a repetition of this trick (of which he afterwards discovered El- Asma'ee to have been the author) , in future rewardit the poets according to the usual custom of kings. But nane of them receivit sic rich treasure as the kindness o' Carnasse that ye ha' showerit sae generously on our laird the Baron that it has e'en extended to this small company in his service."
Her merry peals of laughter at the Ta'ashim filidh's wit have proven most infectious and concealed any flaws in etiquette she may have committed in her smooth... or not ... transition to a final general compliment to both the Duke and his duchy (Performance(Storytelling) 10 with TOC for Advantage). In any case, as she turns back to the retinue Ori is almost certain he hears her murmur, "Nou I'll probably be expectit to ken enow aboot arms tae help Ori design his new escutcheon that he'll hae tae ha' as a new-raisit armiger ... let me see noo ... a greatclub displayed gules rampant upon a bend fess vert azure o' handaxes ... and a bull's horns, we'll ha' tae ha' at least ane pair o' bull's horns somewhither, nae doubt upon the fess quartered bar or. And I wonder if -- och, nae, that's much too plaintonguit tae ha' the motto in plain Elleslandic, I'll ha' tae translate it intae Auld Selentine (Latin) or summat o' that sort, 'twillnae sound sae irreverent then ... quite courtly, indeed ... work in the name o' Market Cross and naebody'd be " From these snatches of dialogue he concludes two things. The first is that while Famh's heart is certainly in the right place, the terms and concepts she is enthusiastically frescoing together don't QUITE seem to match the tone of what he remembers overhearing in the past of heralds of the (whatever the specific office is that grants coats of arms) discussing their calling. The other is that while she might have a natural herald's tongue, he would be wise to check any recommendations of hers which depend on specific factual knowledge with OTHER heralds of the Baron's court until Famh has had the time to acquire present knowledge and sort it out from the vast squirrel's nest of old lore with which her head is so well filled.
And as if summoned by his thoughts of squirrels, the full, wavy red tresses which flow down from that head stir and part as Ethlinn's inquisitive, slightly anxious face peeps out at the blended familiar and unfamiliar faces and sights. After soothing any incipient jealousy by explaining that she only talked to Salt-brother first because he'd gone out to a place Mom and Dad wanted to find out about and if it had been a forest of course she would have asked Ethlinn, she was able to slowly broach the topic of the sea voyage that intervened between Ethlinn and the warm sunny forests down towards where the birds go in the cold time where Mom and Dad live/ At first the little squirrel hadn't understood that Famh meant anything more far reaching than a different kind of the big giant hollow tree they were living in now that Ethlinn really really liked because all the nice ladies were just as kind to her as Mom was and gave her treats. When she did grasp that they would be going out on one of those bare limbed trees with the strange thing coming out of its roots that tossed and waved on the scary blue stuff just outside the big tree's hollow, the ensuing wide-eyed frozen stare of terror had not only required Famh's immediate relaxation of the diet that last busybody lady had tried to put Ethlinn on with mean remarks about how big her tummy was getting, and assurances that Mom and Dad had already climbed the scary looking trees and although Mom and Dad didn't like them either they had REALLY come that way over a much bigger puddle of blue stuff than Ethlinn had ever seen just to take her in and give her a new life in the love of Primroseblossom and Gatanades and the Cailleach and all those other nice people Mom keeps talking about. And when Famh also promised that as soon as they got off the bare-limbed trees they'd be back in another big giant tree and then a few days after that in the nice sunny forest, the squirrel consented so long as she got to nest in Mom's hair during the scary times. Her paws are in fact perched firmly upon Famh's left shoulder. which has been filled out by the hard exercise it has seen and is further swelled by even Vardi's discarded girlhood gambeson. "She needna ha' tauld me she wis TEN when this wis mait!," she thinks to herself as she has to shift her shoulder slightly up to feel the scrabbling of Ethlinn's paws. But the tone of her voice, even in her rather complex mind, is that of an amused friend rolling her eyes half in jest at some of her own utterances. She reaches up and strokes one of Ethlinn's paws reassuringly, wondering how to break it to her that even though the blue stuff she sees now seems to go on till eternity it is only a small part of the blue stuff the retinue has now to cross; and she prays to gods she hasn't thought of in quite some time when she thinks of the return trip around Cape Calogan.
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
( Noice. Moving to the ship if everyones sorted.)
The reception to Famhs extortions is more polite than enthusiastic but it seems well taken and both the betrothed and most of Carnasse household give at least an encouraging smile.
Coming to the docks goods, stores and gifts are loaded aboard a rather smaller cog than the ship which brought them north, it would be cramped aboard but they were assured the little ship, Avocet, would get them home much faster than their journey north. Baron Aldred seemed untroubled and boarded and went immediately to his cabin with a nod to Ori.
The old Mercanian first mate ushered the retinue aboard, " C'mon on yer hop.....we'll be underway once loadings done."
(OOC; is this Mercanian the same man who was first mate on our journey north, or have we changed crews along with the ship? As I recall at least some of the party got to know a few of the former crew slightly ... )
(EDIT: just for curiousity, I should make sure to say. Famh sees no reason not to do as the fellow asks and board 'on the hop' unless someone else does)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Ori climbs aboard the ship and follows the Barron to his cabin. "Oi Sir, I'm not sure how much of my... fondness for the voyage we took to get here. Well none the less, I will probably not make for good company on the return either so for the sake of all involved, Thatch will be the lad to speak to if you are in need of communicating with me. I will make sure he posted close by if you are ever in need of of us, Aye?"
Ori dreaded this trip but couldn't wait to be back either. He wondered how his new position in life would be received by those who knew him before. He wished much to bury that old life, but the mask in his pack tells him otherwise. Blasted I should have tried leaving the bloody thing here. He found himself thinking of the old times more and more. Oh how far he thought he had gone in life then to how far down he went.
Ori wasn't sure why he was singled out of the retinue, he didn't know half the things Famh knew and didn't spend time with folk with titles like Thatch. Cainneach was as much of a straight shooter as Ori himself. Perhaps the Grey's starting at his temples gave the look of wisdom. He sure didn't feel wise. Ori knew he didn't deserve all of this, and his history wasn't as clean as most assume about him, though Ori knew folks of power hands weren't clean. Certainly nothing was clean around Ori on these blasted stomach turning vessel! Ori could already feel the rocking starting to unsettle his stomach whike still in the port. This was going to be a long journey home for Ori, long in deed.
( Different crew and ship.)
The first day aboard Avocet was uneventful and the wind favourable, the small ship made it around the point of Cape Calogan before midnight and they came shoreward of some of the larger islands as they tracked southward toward Brymstone.
The companions were, for the most part, sleeping soundly in the lee of the hold when a cry went up from the lookout just before dawn. Rising and looking ahead they could see a small longship rounding an island and driving toward them at speed under oar.
Ori, half full bucket still in hand, staied sitting in the corner of room. Hard to sleep with typhoon in the gut. "Oi, Cain!" Still hardly able to catch his breath. "Go see what all the motion... I mean commotion is all about. Send Salt to fetch me if there's something a foot Aye?" Here comes another tsunami, hold it, hold it, atleast till the other leave...too late. "Bloody mess, nevermind, just help me up, I have to empty this tiny cup anyways I might as well get a look for myself. Unless you want to throw this overboard for me like a good lad?" Ori was as sick as could be, but they hadn't been sailing long enough for Ori to slump into emo Ori yet, though he was well on his way there.
" Raiders! Raiders!", goes up the cry from the lookout on deck.
The Avocet has no choice but to tack further towards shore as the longboat drives toward her......the captain swears.
" Bastards are going to try a drive us ashore! "
" Jag de vill! ", mutters the first mate as he runs to adjust the sails.
" Archers!", calls the captain though the wind and waves and current distance is going to make any sort of accuracy difficult.
(Catching up a little bit ...)
Cainneach shook Almeric's hand firmly and maintained friendly eye contact while giving a courteous nod to the Capellar. He bowed respectfully to the Lady and accepted all these gifts with gratitude, though he felt strange being seen off in such a manner. After this little ceremony, the forester quickly made his way back to Almeric. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but you are a valiant man and I appreciate your patience with my ... lack of experience. I truly hope you and your betrothed have a long and happy life together, wherever the winds shall carry you. Until the next time, Sir."
Cainneach then takes in Famh's tale, enjoying the cleverness of it immensely. He could only imagine his beloved in the place of the artful filidh. She was clearly suited to the role, if somewhat unrefined at the moment. A gleam of love and deep appreciation was in his eye and a delighted smile on his lips as she returned to his side. He slid his hand into hers and whispered, "A wonderful tale, magnificently rendered, leannan!"
After collecting his possessions and soothing Salt as well as possible, Cainneach boards the little ship along with his comrades, heartened by the claims of a shorter voyage. He felt for Ori, knowing their new leader would face a rough trip, and resolved to be as helpful as possible. Little did he know that he would be called upon to defend their vessel from likely the very raiders he had attempted to learn about just before their departure. As the call for archers was raised, Cainneach responded by stepping forward, longbow ready!
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The longship continued its relentless approach, the Avocet kept trying to get around it and back to open water but the little cog was no match for the speed and manouverability of the Mercanian? ship and its obviously skilled captain.
The longship came within a hundred feet of the Avocet even as the lookout called out " 'Ware! We're shallow to starboard! 'Ware rocks."
Baron Aldred and his staff were on deck and fully kitted for battle, the Captain called out to Aldred and the Companions, " We need to drop sails and let them approach....if we scrape bottom at this speed we'll rip her guts out in short order."
" Unless any of you are carrying miracles on you?", something about the way he said that told you all that stories of your exploits in Beltayne and beyond had filtered through the populace and even to the transients at the docks.....though how much truth was in those filtered stories would be hard to say.
Baron Aldred shook his head, his house chaplain was already praying for Gatandes to intervene but the seas were uncooperative so far....and his ' Scribe' Myrrdin is still many leagues away.
Baron Alrded turned to the companions with a raised eyebrow....
"Well, Sir Almeric had that cursid undead drum thing so we left our miracle behind. Thatch and Cainneach will support arrow volley, Fahm can light a few fires on there ship, probably could luanch some oil to catch their deck a blaze. Hee job is just to keep them busy on their own ship." Ori dumps his pail over the side, "I'll head up the welcoming committee if they decide to join us." Ori had a suspicion that this could happen, but dispite all his talks about preparing for such an event got overshadowed by Ori's concern for the trip on himself. Well hopefully the others did better heeding his warnings.
Famh returns the Baron's gaze steadily. " Aye, we neit miracles, my Lord ... be the god wha sends thaim wha they may." Then her own eyebrow quirks up slightly, and one corner of her mouth quivers in the faint beginnings of a grin as she hears Ori's voice laying out the retinue's order of battle. "Hard heitit common sense will take us a few leagues ower ... " She busies herself in the next few minutes readying herself for her role in the upcoming skirmith. Calling out to the old first mate, whom she had come to know slightly the day before wheedling his old sea tales from him every time he had a watch below (Persuasion in log: 17) , she asks him to bring her some pitch-soaked rags and hempen rope fra' the ship's stores, and, "a few ballast stanes. No heavy burdens, juist anes the weight an' size o' a guid fist o' salt pork -- heavy enow to crack a skull, but small enow tae launch. Can your men fetch me several quickly?" While she is waiting for the man to respond, she begins going through her own gear, drawing out the following items:
=== /*/ ===
Held action: catapult ("Choose one object weighing 1 to 5 pounds within range that isn’t being worn or carried. The object flies in a straight line up to 90 feet in a direction you choose before falling to the ground, stopping early if it impacts against a solid surface. If the object would strike a creature, that creature must make a Dexterity saving throw (DC12). On a failed save, the object strikes the target and stops moving. When the object strikes something, the object and what it strikes each take 3d8(12) bludgeoning damage.") using pitch rag-wrapped ballast stones ignited according to Famh's best knowledge and reasoning as to what method will be most reliable (possible choices include a preignited hemp rope wick in a 'fire nest' like travelers of the period carried live coals in, and a magical followup ignition with starry wisp)
First target will be the raider's sails and rigging, but she will also be planning a second shot at deck level that aims in general for the mast / bulkhead / wooden whatever that has the largest clump of enemy crew around it
Wild surge from recent TOC : 37 (results description TBA)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
(oh my. After the catapult spell is cast, depending on whether we're going by 2014 (a) or 2025 (b) rules, either
until the end of her next turn.)
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
( Well....lets see what I can do with that.....)
Thatch wasn’t quite sure of the finer points of serving as a page or messenger, his service at the Dayne household notwithstanding, and he was more comfortable dealing with the animals in the stable. Thankfully, the Baron, comfortable in his cabin, had little need for messages and Thatch spends most of the first day of the voyage outside the cabin door working on the beginnings of a wood carving.
The cries of the lookout rouses him from an uneasy sleep and the call for archers sends him scrambling to his feet, short bow and quiver close at hand. He joins Cainneach and the ship's complement of archers at Ori’s instruction and steps up to the railing, arrow nocked. He glances over as Famh lays out an assortment of articles on the deck and nods in recognition. “Ah, good idea, Famh. We can also wrap the tips of some of our arrows in rags and set them aflame if it would help your cause."
(before the Draochta (fates) require her to pay the price of the very nice dice rolls she's been getting recently, though ... )
As the grizzled Mercanian turns to respond to Famh's request, her active, squirrel-like mind dredges up a memory from the past that might just be useful in reconciling the crew to her incipient display of uncanny powers. She puts on her best smile as the man approaches and prepares to sweeten down the wickedly sinful lie she is about to tell him with a wee posset of the truth. "Thank ye so kindly, Sir. Ye'll have heard the rumours of ma gaberlunzie past, if ye've met any o' the sailors that broucht us north on the Linden, or paid heit tae some o' the more exaggerated tales o' our recent campaign tae the north. Weel, there's a wee grain o' truth tae the wildest o' them, and I'd best tell ye nou ere I scare half the crew tae deeth. I grew up in Brymstone, and ane year when I was a lass, a Mercanian longship put intae port wi a sea-witch aboard." (true). "I wis fascinatit wi' all the auld lore and stories then, sae I mait a nuisance o' masel' until some o' the crew took pity on me and tault me tales o' their life at sea." (also true). "E'en the sea-witch wis sae impressit wi' ma curiosity that she thoucht I might mak' an apprentice tae her someday, and she sharit a few o' her lesser secrets, includin' a wee piseogue that I'm, hopin' tae use tae cast these stanes at yon raider wi' mair force than any onager or springwald coud." (the most absolutely baldfaced lie Famh has ever told. In Mercanian seafaring society the sea witch has a rank at LEAST comparable to Famh's revered filidhs (https://drive.google.com/file/d/17LyxgK6JNiy1wSKYkNK8n0le7mwl_1P5/view?usp=sharing, p. 64), and while some might be kind enough to take pity on Famh as she is describing, this particular one took absolutely no notice of the grimy-faced ragamuffin lass smelling of sheep who kept on hanging about pestering the crew, beyond a vague hope that the girl would shut up and go away before that storm she could practically smell in her BONES swept in and kept them in this godsforsaken Thulish wayport any longer than was absolutely necessary).. "I'm tellin' ye so ye can warn the crew and no have thaim distractit bi fearin' they haed a heathen aboard. Nou, in ordinary times I'm a proper Gatanades-fearin' lass whae wid niver ha' tae do wi' sic forbidden powers. But yon crew taught me a Mercanian sayin' ower tae explain why the sea-witch wis no only toleratit but honourit. It went aught lak this: ' Gatanades for the dry land; but outboard, aught can happen; and Aegir and Njord yet rule the sea. ' "
This small matter taken care of (or not), she turns to respond to the wiry groom's comment. "Aye, Thatch. The mair fire aboard that ship, the less time they'll ha' tae fash wi' us."
===***===
Deception # )WO{_
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1