Fungus among us - Part One

Ruby has dragged everyone she can to take a peek at the Bog-awful huge fleet she's amassing for the trip into the shadow. Whether by marking on Charts where to meet her with their own ship (such as the Fireheart), or calling forth via Trump teleportation.
It isn't a uniform fleet, though masses of ship types try to glom to a particular type. The tonnage may vary, but the most frequent same-same vessel belongs to trade Fleet Triskelion. A diamond formation of close to 50 ships, with more arriving in groups of three. Of particular interest are three biblically immense Arks in the middle of the ships. Ruby has been pulling out her hair to keep everyone from colliding and maintaining a course, with the slowest of the vessels being the baseline for travel. Right now, they're practically at anchor and sedate.
On the main deck of the Beast, she tries to assemble folks for a shot of rum and a chin-wag.
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fungus among us - Part Two

Two things make Chase happy tonight, the first, he is not down in the fouls stench, two, when he does descend he can hold his breath for extended periods. The ice drake circles high above watching for signs his aid is required.

The main deck is silent apart from those ever-present creakings of wood while a vessel is at sea. Could be lulling to an experienced sailor, but the unhealthy smells from ~under~ the maindeck would not provide an attractive place to rest.
Ruby ventures upwards to the deck, clambering to use Lorne's helpful grapple and staying near the rail. A moist flapping noise is coming from below, like a score of newly landed fish are frantically expiring. And occasionally the sounds of wet soles moving unseen to different compartments. All of this inbetween islands of silence.
"Beginnin tah think Cornelia gots lots 'o wis-doom an fore-thought."
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