Shadow Oh-Nooooo...de - Part 2

[rubyrubyruby]

Nadia looks around and notices some of the ships were having a problem staying with the group. She considers going to get them, but realizes she has no clue where their final destination is. In fact, she doesn't want to lose the group either so she flies back towards the main ship, and gets in closer to ensure she goes along with them.

Wynter sends a trio of bolts down apon the two remaining vessels and then is out of time. She sinks back down to the deck of the ship and to Ruby's side. Her sense of magics making her almost step back as she comes closer to Ruby. The worry is once again across her face as she wraps an arm around Ruby's shoulder and tries in her way to support the larger woman. She whispers into Ruby's ear.

Chase climbs, banking to look for stragglers, trying to play shapard if he can. "Two points to starboard!" He booms at one of the flankers, "Full Sheets...Move your asses!" The Dragon roars passing just above the masts before making a run for the Beast.

Nadia doesn't let the horrible sounds distract from her magical song of inspiration as she hypes up the captain for whatever crazy stuff that is about to go down. She smiles as she looks around, "Oh I called it. See totally undead beasts! We got this, no problem."

The sky is split by shreds and tears. Where they should be filled with blinding elemental energies, like normal albeit potent lightning, it's a void or absence of such. The flip-flopped photo-negative. Every flash seems to highlight the differences between the troubled vessels without a rainbow hue, and those that are kept solid. The node that the fleet passes is left astern but is undergoing something that is far from normal. The pattern-shift is definitely well underway though not complete.

The trio of Corsairs have suffered a major setback with tricky dragons and flying Pathians. One moreso than the others. Some arcane puissance has kept themselves from being outright demolished, which may raise future questions, but they have failed to bring down a flying foe or a fleeing vessel. To those with sensitive noses to magic, they bristle with spells. From either side of the fleet there seems to be a number of other squadrons of Corsairs with the same plan to flank the fleet. Yet more 3's of things and not differing in number. There's something odd about their uniformity or theme though, as they come in like reflections in a funhouse mirror.

Ruby finds herself being lashed to the back rail, her jacket half-off, but still amazingly hooked upon a muscular shoulder and remaining clasp. Her hat is long gone as the wind and rain lashes everyone on the deck. The latter bears a salty taste that's so bitter it should be served as a seasoning for masochists. A horrid smell of vinegar accompanies it as realities' origami is folded by numb fingers. "I'm gonna make one last try tah grab'm all. If anyone...is...in tha air, Bog bless'm. I'll make this worth it!" Ruby mentally tries to reacquire the pattern in her mind and encompass the whole kit and kaboodle. A circular tattoo at her sternum glows and starts to revolve their barbed-wire gear-shapes.

Wind and rain lashes the Ice Drake as he tries to gain on the Beast, as a parting gift for the Corsairs he begins his profane, arcane whispering hiss raising great chunks of ice between the fleets edge, and the wolves in pursuit, the driving rain about the dragon turning to a fist sized hail, an unfortunate side effect of his arts.

Mercier makes a face and does an admirable job of not panicking as the rain turns to something terrible. Tied to a railing himself, he briefly checks the knot that kept him attached to the ship, then peers back at the Corsairs, "That cruelty, unanswered, is a bit frustrating." He says, to no one in particular.

Nadia lands back on the deck of the ship, and shifts back to her human form. She moves closer to Ruby and smiles as she begins to sing. Her voice has a musical quality it, and the sound of a fiddle joins her voice as she cries out. "Oh we sail the great seas! We punch whole in the universe, and we go where we please. There is no glory that can not be achieved! We follow our great Admiral, The Captain of the Beast. No man can stand before her, for she is the greatest of all the seas!" There is the sound of a dozen people all cheering together, their voices merging in a musical mess as Nadia continues to sing. "Oh we seal the great seas! We fear no evil, we fear no living being, we fear no undead beasts, for we control these seas. All shall bow down before the captain, the great Admiral of the Seas!"

Wynter grimices against the rain and grumbles to herself. More softly spoken words and the Pathian starts to make a bubble of rainless and almost windless area around herself and then spreading it further and further to encompass Ruby and those huddled near by.
She eyes the attacking sails and then studies Ruby's face. "Ok, Ruby. We trust you. So do the ships with us."

Huge groans like whale-song lurch from the heavens above. As if competing with the song of hope that Nadia sings upon the Beast. The normally stable Shadow-Node is figuratively bitten into by some invisible maw and shaken like ragdoll. Rending the carefully laid waypoint and stressing it by the sheer amount of magical energies at play, the manipulation of the pattern, and sheer tonnage of vessels afloat. Private vessels on their own business wisely try to veer off and attempt to backtrack, risking getting lost rather than joining in whatever the fresh hell is going on. They're becoming a tad less substantial, but this may be due to the transition.

What shouldn't be due to the transition, is the sound of hundreds of nails hammering into the hull from below. The sound advances ~upwards~ from keel towards the railings. Nor should the rain be turning closer to crimson, like blood trickling down some sacrificial altar. There are wails and moans coming from not just from the sea, but the murky cauldron of clouds above. Wraith-like winged horrors weighed down by chains and inscribed stones, tumble ~upwards~ in agony, wailing like infants. Their bonds lash about like whips as gravity is made a mockery and reversed to pull them from watery depths.

Chase makes for the Beast as it sails into this fresh hell, his white scales dripping crimson as the rain turns to blood as he makes a pass to land a massive hand, with tentacles for fingers reaches from the deep. The Dragon roars in confusion as he his pulled from the sky, now fighting to free himself as he is dragged toward the hellish waters. His dagger like teeth rip into the flesh of the thing that has him, claws wildly flash as his ice constructs begin to explode in the distance.

Cela Eno is still where she dropped, in front of Ruby, beyond the steering First Mate. If it's a zany plan to expect to perform a delivery on a rolling, rain-soaked deck while the mother-to-be is herself performing a hundred-ship move through shadow, there is only blithe encouragement on Cela's damp, upturned face. Some peace descends over the vicinity as Wynter arrives with her field of climate control, and then there is some impromptu barding! "Oh, well now, things are looking up, aren't they?" she beams around at the other women. What with the sky rending, the rattle of haunted knocking, and the chained souls in torment swinging from the waves, she's is mostly likely speaking far too soon.

Nadia's song has an affect on the crew. Despite the strange rain, the supernatural doom breaking loose, it's having a bolstering effect. Those not absolutely married to a duty that will keep the ship from going off course or capsizing are grabbing dagger, club or whatever is at hand to prepare to repel boarders.
Ruby lets go of her most powerful distraction while others face the fluster-cluck. She lets it all be washed away and swirl into a hungry gutter. Eyes closed, she trembles, breathing hitching as her pulse races and heart thudity-thuds. Leaning against the rail and devoting all towards dragging all those vessels, including those risking oblivion or abandonment.

RPG: Ruby declares she is consuming token f8r: Bog's Triskelion
RPG: Consumed Ruby's token FJJ 'The Great Admiral' for a +3 bonus.
RPG: Ruby challenges a difficulty of 10. Ruby chooses Wits. She expends token FJJ. Ruby almost succeeds.

Wynter's eyes widen as the world goes wonky. She reluctantly lets go of Ruby and calls out to the crew, "Hellride! Hellride!" A word that likely isn't shocking at this point. Warnings and bells sounding from ships all over hte armada as the seas seem to spew forth things against them.
She turns to Cela and the others and offers a fast appology as the bubble she created to protect them all colapses. But her sword lights up in flame, twin serphants of fire twining up around the golden metal as she steps to the rail to repell the unnatural boarders.

The crew take a few opportunistic swipes at the mob of morose humans somehow able to pull themselves up the slipper hull and start to gain the railing. The swipes and slashes pass effortlessly through them.

Some of the nearest ships to Chase's position call out in alarm at the sight of the fleet's white drake getting snagged by something from the deeps. There's nothing they can do, and no one dares deviate now. Truth be told, there are a few of the ships that are operating purely through intimidation of their Captains, huge sums of wealth, or facing down a barrel. Those still with wits know survival if they peel away might be the last thing they do.

The merchant checks the knot attaching him to the ship, again, this time a bit more urgently, an innate need for safety now as he watches the world dissolve into something rather very unpleasent. "I'm getting a sense something's gone wrong, or at least not right." He mumbles, head turning to look towards the ship's master, then resuming his watch over the other ships. As a merchant, there's not much to do but endure. Clothing stained by the colorful rain, his hand reaches into coat, rubbing against the now streaked white shirt as he confirms his trump case is still present.
Nadia looks to the railings and starts to chant as she pushes a hand forward and starts to spray water at the creatures that stick their head up over the side. Hopefully magic and or water has more of an impact on them.

Nadia looks to the railings and starts to chant as she pushes a hand forward and starts to spray water at the creatures that stick their head up over the side. Hopefully magic and or water has more of an impact on them.

Cela gets a front-row seat to the glowing effects of Ruby's tattoo, and she sits back straight on her heels and lifts her hands cautiously away from the captain. "What did that do? A reprieve from labor?" she murmurs upwards in a confidential tone, even as the rain starts cascading down on them all again. Noting both Wynter and Nadia trying to fend off spectral boarders, Cela rises smoothly to her own feet to get a better look at the horror show from the sky and sea. "Larks, what've you done here, Captain.. the ritual dead of Cibola are escaping the node!" She lifts a hand as though to reach out to the nearest crawler on the rail, then snatches her hand back in a fist. Her smiling nature slips away for a moment as she considers.

Nadia stops attacking, as it doesn't seem to be doing much. "Hopefully if we can't touch them, they can't do anything to us either." Just in case however, she turns to look at them and lifts a hand and gives a wave to one of them. "Hello. Nice to meet you. You are still a person right?"

Ruby croaks out something manner of mush-mouthed answer and keeps her eyes closed. She buckles under a undulating spasm, but doesn't cry out in pain at all. "They not get us..." That half of the fleet that was in dire straits is suddenly pulled into sharper relief. Each hull that is brought along into this bubble of transitory reality sizzles like butter on a hot skillet. Flash frying burn marks on the parts of the hull that touch the waters, but apart from a cosmetic scorchy addition, they appear fine. The fleet is slowly made whole, though not without cost. The flotilla all transitions together with a roar of noise, but leaves behind Chase to an unknown fate.

The insubstantial Cibolans, who look remarkably whole despite their apparent invulnerability, grow in numbers along the exterior rails, gaining footing upon the deck and advancing with dull shuffling steps. They're draped with chains or ropes, weighted by stone that are inscribed with Cibolan sigils. Staring expectantly, drugged or statuesque gazes.

Wynter is dripping from the red rain and looking soggy. She's forced to take a step back from the spirits of the dead and she tries a slow cut with her flaming weapon before putting it's point into the deck of the beast after backing up as close as she can with the others. "Stay near me." She says and then the bubble of protection raises up again a ward of air for those that know of such magics. Wynters face becoming a mask of concentration.

Cela blinks slowly into the tumult of the shifting, and regards the terrible remnants that still plague the ship(s). She nods in a distracted manner to Nadia, while stealing closer to the rope-tethered merchant, with a building intent to her motions. She leaves the aura of Wynter's protection if need be. "They are sacrifices to the sea path.. for power, for stability.. but why they have risen or become undone..?" she remarks thoughtfully. "Perhaps these doomed echoes were ripped away with the violent departure of so many ships. Or could it be they are what clings and drags and tries to tear the fleet in two? Either way, they are not ours, these ships are not theirs, and we had best send them back. Mr. Templeton, I think we might stage a demonstration, if you are willing."

Nadia looks around a bit as she considers the situation. "So do we try to remove the chains and set their souls free, or do we just ignore them and wait until we leave this area and they disappear?" She looks to them, then over to Cela. "So they were innocent sacrifices who we should save? Or their angry sacrifices who want revenege on the living? That doesn't solve the problem any." She isn't sure, but then if the chains are also ghost like there probably isn't anything she can do anyway. So she chants a few words and creates a long thin piece of ice, and floats it over to them. The little piece of ice then pokes the chain to see if it is solid or not.

Celaeno mutters to Mercier, You are well-tied, Arthur -- so it won't be like you stand a great risk of perishing! It is only becausee the wretched understand only the Cibolan currency of blood. Will you play along?

Even as Cela approaches, Mercier is, hurredly and with some some sense of urgency (or at least a good artificial facsimile for the public at least), his fingers start to work at loosening the knot so he could obtain some manuverability over the shambling hordes. He pauses briefly at Cela's note, "Well, if I had been tossed overboard as part of some savage pact with some unnamed force, I might find some necessity in expressing my annoyed lamentation at any fool passer-by." He says, with clear disdain over the practice. As the woman steps forward, the merchant balks at her suggestion, simply blinking, before looking to Ruby, and responding....
Mercier mutters to Celaeno, "Knots... undone... load,... lines part. That water... some..." He says, evenly, if warily, eyes slipping up towards their shambling stowaways.

The torn echoes shamble closer, their swaying gate and chisled weights drag against the decking without leaving a soggy mark. They hum with some ancient frequency, no audible speech coming from them. Perhaps their tongues have been severed or gums sewn shut. Dull eyes turn on those that make movements towards them or attempt communication. Their presence grows as more labour their way up the hull. Their chains react much as their bodies do. Objects pressing to them or their chains pass into the holographic-like non-substance. As more attain a presence on the deck, the ship experiences strange pressures and forces. The Beast makes more noises. Nails poppping, the sails shivering and tar seeping between planks.

Ruby seems like she's in a bit of a drugged state herself, or occupied by mental calculation that want to turn her brain inside out. She twitches and curls her lip towards the manifestations. "Whatever works, we gotta do. Ship is 'avin an...allergic reaction. Can only reform it so much before I lose tha ships...I leadin. I'd thrown someone over tha side if I could." She rummages for her knife with clumsy hands. "If there 'as tah be a sacrifice...If there 'as tah be..."

Nadia tilts her head slightly as she glances over to Ruby, "Sacrifices? That doesn't sound like a very good thing." She looks around as she thinks the situation over. "You think their bodies are still at the bottom of the ocean? Maybe if they are destroyed, that will get rid of them?"

Cela dips the blade thoroughly into the bucket, looking it over with a frown. She returns to Mercier to slather a bold mark upon his forehead, and then his chest, careful not to draw his own blood along with it. "With this blood, committed to the sea, the fleet of the Beast claims its rite of movement," she ad-libs, and in a moment of further inspiration, soaks the blade once more to liberally spray droplets over the horde, gviing them a scent to follow, when Mercier does his thing.

Such marked, Mercier shakes his head, doubtfully, attempting to look sufficiently resigned to his mournful fate, as he steps up on the railing, looking down at the steaming cauldron of water below. There's a brief moment of hesitation, and a simple request, "Do be sure this doesn't get out." And then, with a step, he vanishes over the side.

Blood produced in the bucket starts the swarming. But before the untethered echoes are surging upon Nadia's helpful conjuration like shoppers at some seasonal sale on a once-in-a-lifetime bargain, Cela is adding a wrinkle by refining their focus, and passing that symbolic hot potatoe onto poor Mercier. The ship actually tips, bizarrely, as they move like dazed lemmings to step up to the rail and walk off. Through some unknown Order, they go in their groups. Like sand through an hourglass, the particles slip past an invisible bottleneck, passing those not in the queue. They go as sacrificial dregs, finding a new thing to anchor to, which must be quite the sight to the ships following.

Ruby gives a raspy sigh as the pressure eases with each prisoner of war reconsigned to the water and depth-charging into the unknown. Once half of the mob are over the side, there's an obvious lessening of stress and that feeling that something that has been drawn so long and taut...is easing.

Cela steps back and gathers with Ruby and anyone else looking to avoid the macabre rush over the edge. When she isn't studying the groups that plunge into the choppy waves, she is eyeballing the knotted rope around the ship's rail, the only thing keeping Mercier alive and, in a few minutes, rescuable. The creepy sensation of being watched in turn, draws her notice to the disenfranchised victims clustering fixated on the knife she still holds. Cela hesitates, then sidesteps to wind up and lob the bloody blade out to sea. The bloody bucket is similarly sacrificed to the waves, if need be!

Nadia isn't too sure of this plan, but it seems to be working. "That was pretty dangerous. I read a lot about Cibola, but never seen their type of magic, or the results of it, in person before."

Ruby pushes herself upright into a better standing position. Able to bring more of her pattern foo to bear upon the situation. Now that they're in motion, and there's less bad juju, it does feel better. Her pupils are still a little big and swollen, and there's not a hint of discomfort, rather, there's a preoccupied part of her that's steering and affecting things. The loss of the knife has her grimace some, but the relief at being away from whatever mess they've left behind is good. "Tha ain't somethin I be repeatin. No sense lookin back. Committed."