Our Blessed Lady of stolen whispers - Part Three

[rubyrubyruby]

"Aye!" Sidonie calls out to Ruby in agreement. It's time to scoot. She backpedals toward where the gangplank is supposed to be, and stumbles yet again when both ships collide once more. With a grunt of surprise, she reaches to grip the railing.

Wynter whispers to herself and lifts from the deck of the saintly ship as things start to get hectic. She climbs upwards a good ten feet and turns to make sure the others are on their way across the gangplank. She starts drifting backwards at leasurely pace and to Theol and Grace she says. "Your war between yourselves has nothing to do with us. Excuse us if you please."

Someone belonging to either of the two realm's ships has to blink. Patience isn't their primary virtue apparently. Ruby is all for disengaging and is keeping in profile as she edges towards the gangplank. She bellows towards the Beast, calling for the Bosun to get the Beast underway pronto, which is hard when trying to keep her eyes the standoff, and she blinks and misses the initiating of hostilities.
Captain Grace and Captain Theol stand like opposing Kings on chessboard while their loyal crew are the pawns. They advance on each other. Theol flicks his glance to Wynter and fires off a quick word. "Whoever wins, it is wise you are away from here." He grits his teeth, and is surrounded by a nimbus of blue light, which is echoed by a diffuse aura beneath his personal vessel. It's then that Grace sets her men to action, snapping off a cry, "Deal with Theol first! The pact has been made!" The battle is joined between the two crews and Ruby dearly wishes she'd packed a pistol. The envoys immediately dive out of the way.

Standing clear of the gangplank, Beast-side, Cela watches the precarious retreat over the jolting deck, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet in a show of sympathy. Ruby's commands have her looking around quickly to see how quickly the Beast crew jump to obey, then calls out herself, "Wait wait wait, there's one trying to cross!" Then she motions to Sidonie to hurry.

Sidonie grits her teeth as she attempts to get on the see-sawing gangplank. Maybe she can move along it far enough to jump the rest of the way. "We gotta go, Captain! The Fleet," she calls out to Ruby

Wynter follows along behind Sidonie, trying to make sure she gets across safely as well as Ruby. Then lands on the Beast and calls out to Ruby. "Do you want wind, Captain? And if so how much?"

Clank-Clank-Clank. The anchors on both of the non-beast vessels are starting to be pulled in, wound up by a mechanism built into the prow and near the graphic martyr figureheads, and completely under its own power. The chain connecting to the anchors shines with divine energies. It's a cue of sorts, though the sounds of fighting breaking out could certainly be a reason for the hatches on their decks opening and crew be allowed to clamber out now that the failed ultimatum is dispensed with. Thankfully, the hatches provide a bit of a bottleneck and reinforcements are a trickle as they try and align their allegiances.
Ruby thunders across the plank after Sidonie, arms extended to either side for balanced, moving like a flightless bird. She lifts her chin and answers Wynter hastily. "Aye! Once tha sails be unfurled, fill'm! As much as you can tha won't rip tha sails or damage yerself!"

Once she sees Wynter is on hand to see her companions across to safety, Cela turns her attention back to the zealous row between the pious. Zeroing in on the crouching prisoners, she stares hard enough to memorize what she can of their features, before the Beast huffs off.

Sidonie launches herself the rest of the way onto the deck of the Beast and lands with a heavy, awkward stumble, turning to the side to allow for Ruby to follow suit. Upon Ruby's order, as if by instinct, she launches toward the rigging by the mast to help unfurl the sails. She then abrusptly slides to a stop mid-way, checking herself. There's a pause, a look of surprise and chagrin, then she shakes her head as if to clear it. She turns to look at Captains Theol and Grace's ships clanking together, eyes wide.

There's a crack of a musket. Sharp whizzing sounds fill the air like angry bees or miniature motorcycles at a derby. Some deflect or embed themselves in mast or hull. They punctuate the battle cries and holy oaths thrown into the melee. Great motivation for the Beast's crew to get underway. Theol and Grace's dogma headbutt each other, though the latter seems to have greater zeal. Both have their faith tested and cling to their positions and their crews manifest this in the most direct way. They repeat holy scripture, embellishing it to serve them, and their creativity and determination flow to their forces. Their vessels shudder against each other, hulls trading paint and splinters as they buck like turgid sea beasts.
The prisoners have moved to the rail, as far from the violence as they can. They've managed to secure club and dagger and cast severe glances after the Beast and its crew. The woman who still has a tongue starts a brisk and urgent conversation with her people as they grip their pilfered weapons.

Wynter moves behind the masts towards the aft of the ship. She calls out to Ruby as she goes. "What of Jondrim!?" She waits patiently for the sailors to scramble about and unfurl the sails, drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly, eyes darting back over to the other ships. The musket fire has her /full/ attention then but as long as they're not aimign the way of the Beast she has no desire to take action against it.

Once Ruby is past that wobbly walk of the plank, she's moving to the aft of the vessel to watch over all the activity. "Bloody bastards..." She summons a deckhand that's static for all of three seconds to fetch her gear, and to provide similar to companions and crew. "If I was tha prayin type, I'd pray we not too late. With any luck, we outrun tha winner. Not stickin around tah find out who." Ruby sneers, having forgotten about the tricky Jondrim. "If Jondrim ain't cleared out, 'e better. Priority be tha fleet. It be on 'is 'ead if 'e ain't gots tha sense tah follow."

"I take it the Captain didn't receive the help she was looking for, miss?" Cela presses the least busy of the away team, Sidonie in her estimation. "Who were those three you examined but left behind?"

With a nod of thanks to the deckhand, Sidonie accepts the plain scabbard and sword and replaces it on the belt around her waist. "No, they turned back on their agreement to allow us passage. Thought those three folks had a better offer... claimed to have cut off their tongues as a sacrifice and evidence of their commitment." The woman with the dark hair looks past Celaeno onto the water, as if hoping to catch sight of Jondrim? "It's back to the Fleet, we may have been drawn away for a reason."

The Pathian calls out to the wind and the wind responds in force. It starts off with a trickling flow that fills out the sail and then the masts creak and then groan as the wind pushes hard against the sheets.
She raises her arms as the ship moves with almost a lurch and then picks up speed. Her lips moving as she continues to speak to the wind, directing it.

The Beast is heaved hard to return from whence they came, making the deck all tilty while it course corrects. There's no direct attack on the aft of the ship as it shows its tail feathers. "Once we're underway, every femme an bloke is tah take a sidearm, blade or what you favour! Gunports closed. Keep powder dry!" Ruby curses, and then eyes the sails. Stormsilk sails now fully deployed thanks to crew and companions. "Not yet...not use them yeeeet. Pathian sorcery for now, aye." Uh-oh, she's talking to herself. She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts to Wynter, "Keep it up Wyntah! Tha's grand!" Ruby twitches a little at what she imagines as Pathian hocus-pocus soaking into the canvas. A deckhand arrives with pistol and axe, which Ruby then strap upon herself. The bandoleer takes some adjusting. "Aye, might 'ave been a tactic. Draw us away." She nods, agreeing with Sidonie. "We see 'ow much sea we can eat up."

"Did they..? How enlightening.. and rather unusual to see Captain Incarnate stynied," Cela nods to Sidonie. "Thank you. I am Cela, by the by. Writer for the Lower City Gazette," she moves alongside for now, also glancing into the chopping waves. The concern for Jondrim's whereabouts becomes clear, and she lowers her parasol, shutting it against the winds. "Oh dear.." she says offhandedly as a dagger is pressed into her hand by a passing supply officer.

Squinting up at Wynter performing her wind magic, Sidonie can't help but gape a bit. Then blinking, she bends down to examine the rest of her gear, a bag of medical tools and a sheathed dagger. She straightens and attaches the sheath to her belt at her left hip. The bag will be tucked away from any stumbling feet until it is needed, hopefully not anytime soon. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Cela. I'm Sidonie, the Beast's new barber-surgeon, at your service," she says with a flash of a smile.

Wynter keeps at it, focused. She watches the strain she's put on the masts and the storm silks both. Eyes roaming over the taut lines which hum lightly in the tention and breeze of their movement. She adjusts the speed up slowly, even further and then winces as a small line snaps and brings it back down a notch. "Sorry! I'll keep it here. Call out strain to me if things look bad and I'll bring down the winds more."

Through the combined efforts of skilled hands in the rigging, to pathian magic and some Pattern manipulation, the Beast is provided with a number of advantages to take them away from the two-ship schism and back towards the fleet. The matronly vessel is made as swift as a spritely clipper.

Ruby orders someone to take the crow's nest and keep a lookout on the horizon. Behind them, there are loud base-filled booms and shockwaves that travel well over the surface of the water. Ruby peers towards the horizon, ignoring what she leave behind. There are distant shapes, but are difficult to make out. Could be a mass of masts, or a trick of far-off atmospherics playing games.

Sidonie's eyes flick up immediately at the sound of a small line snapping. She can't seem to pry her attention away from the sound of the rigging, the Pathian-generated wind hitting the main sail. In fact, it's rather irritating to be so unwillingly focused on every subtle change of the ship. So while their Captain looks forward, Sidonie looks down. The surgeon crouches by her bag winding up bandages, but by the small change in her crewmates stance she can see from the corner of her eye, shapes can now be seen in the horizon. Time to finish up.

Cela turns her newly acquired weapon this way and that, as though trying to decide whether its brutally functional design matches her silk accessories. Looking up with new interest in Sidonie, she gives a quick cheer, "Well done! Considering what happened to the last physician, employing more than one aboard would be practical." She turns away from the blast ripple that manages to reach them even at the current speed and heading. "Oof - I do believe if those people ever manage to sort out their differences to reunify, they'll be formidable opposition."

Wynter is sweating with effort to keep the element that wishes to go where it wills in check and filling the sails. The thunder of cannons has her side stepping to look ahead even as she continues to whisper to the wind. Her eyes catch sight os something and she turns to port and points, pausing her words to speak Thari. "Off port bow! Ware!"

Sidonie's eyes flick up immediately at the sound of a small line snapping. She can't seem to pry her attention away from the sound of the rigging, the Pathian-generated wind hitting the main sail. In fact, it's rather irritating to be so unwillingly focused on every subtle change of the ship. Squinting against the blare of wind, Sidonie miles at Cela. "Best to have a contingency plan, for sure," she says with a chuckle. The new physician has not met the last one as of yet.

Ruby moves to the other side of the ship to squint in the direction Wynter has called out. Someone is still enroute to the crow's nest to verify, but more than one set of eyes is on the case. "Not ours then? Someone give me details!" She squeezes at the rail and considers.

On board the Adventure a Minosin Frigate Chase and the Captain are having a conversation when the booms happen.
Soon enough the Adventure is under sail and signaling the Fleet. The frigate makes a wide circle the crew shouting as they move to battle stations, Chase climbs the rigging in an attempt to get a view of who is doing the shooting.

Cela drops to a crouch as an afterthought, when the booms of a cannon over the water reach them. Her conversation with the new sawbones cut short, she nods to the other woman and scoots towards to the stern of the ship, away from the areas where guns might begin blazing immimently.

After flashing Cela a grin, Sidonie races, head bowed, portside to get a closer look. She squints. "Caravels, Captain! Swift ones. Can't tell how many yet," she says loudly enough against the wind. Eyes flick up to see if that crewmate has made it to the crow's nest.

Wynter sighs and then strains to call forth another bit of arcana while maintaining her pushing the wind into the Beast's sails. The air between the ships to port and the Beast seems to cut away and for a brief time the ships can be seen clear as day , as if everyone were looking through a telescope. There is a cry from the other ship as well and fingers pointing at the Beast. Aparently this goes both ways.
The ships are of the religious state. Martyr figureheads and captian priests and congregations of sailors. The Pathian curses and lets the magic go with a groan.

Ruby turns sharply to view the temporary sorcerous window. Her eyes roam hither and thither, grabbing at details while she can. She does some mental hopscotch and then barks out an order to navigator. "Intercept!" She stamps further along the railing, flinching away from the magic that is cancelled, but having to admit just how useful it was. "Need a boarding crew. Volunteer up before I choose an reward be greater!
The ship tilts as the prow of the Beast is steered so that the paths will close and intersect. "Nimble feet an long leapers. If you've ever taken a ship, then this be in your wheel'ouse. We ain't stoppin. Quick, fast 'n dirty. Take tha first vessel we pass while tha Beast goes tah inconvenience tha others."

The Adventure has her orders she is to shepard the fleet and that iswhat she will do. The Mandrake in the Crows nest doesnot seem tobe bound by those orders. He dives from the rigging, he spreads his arms as he falls his form blurs and a white dragon takes his place, the beast climbs roaring a challenge to the fleet chasing the Beast.

Once she gets tucked beside the stair rail to the poop deck, Cela regains her normal height, and gazes off the port side just in time to catch a glimpse of the pursuing ships before the veil of atmosphere drops again. She listens to Ruby's new call to arms, and pipes up, "Did anyone see which side won? And what if these ones are in support of the original pact?" She realizes she still has the dagger in hand, and hastily tucks it away in a scoop of silk.

Sidonie stares wide-eyed through the magic "window" Wynter provides, then grins broadly in fascination. Really! Her hand rests on the pommel of her sword. At the Captain's command, the surgeon does not come forward, choosing to remain at a defensive position on the ship and render a sawbones' aid should it be needed. To Cela, she calls back. "Miss Cela I believe they had come to a decision before our meeting, that is until they discovered the tongue of one of the envoys was not cut. These folks might not know."

Wynter refocuses on the powerful wind driving the ship. Sweat dripping off her brow as she pants lightly. "Just a little more. Little more." ,she says eyeing the gap closing between the ships.
She steps back and almost trips over a silvery bow, it's surface like liquid metal and touched by red here and there. She utters a curse and bends to yank it up from the deck. "There you are! Damn it I've been looking for you." She's not talking to the bow, right?

The Beast veers closer and closer, and Cela's concerns may be potentially answered by how those on deck of the other vessel seem armed for bear. While this isn't damning in itself, their gunports are opening, with hymnals issuing out reedily. The figureheads of the vessels are a bit bigger than standard, and might be due to the anchors pulled up against them augmenting their martyr'd theme. The figurehead is of a person that is stricken with many arrows, and the anchor hugged to it a set of spray-dampened bones upon its cross-like metal structure. The glowing figurehead brays out a song and cradles the anchor protectively.

Chase climbs high looking at the ships below, picking his target, the swiftess of the ships in pursuit. He dives unleashing a blast of bone numbing cold, ice and snow form on the masts and sheets forcing the wind from it's sails, force her crew to react of become top heavy.

"Ahh, thank you once again, Doctor!" Cela calls back. "So this is an orchestrated stab in the back, is it? Marvelous.." It is not truly marvelous, of course, but what reporter doesn't love a good old fashioned story of high-stakes betrayal? She cranes forward to take note of those making ready to swing or leap and clash directly with the incoming caravel, including the ice dragon roaring overhead. Carefully, she delves back into her garment for that dagger. Might very well need it.

Ruby volun-tells some hard looking crewmembers to assemble on the deck, and ensures they're properly armed. She rasps out the importance of either crippling or commandeering the vessel. How recovery may not exactly be easy or possible, so success is rather important. But hey, maybe the ship winds up a prize, mmm? Motivation: Check.
Closer to the swift craft, there's actually the possibility of a collison. It's going to be a near thing. It's probably a pretty risky and foolish thing. Ruby holds on to the railing and draws her pistol. "Let's put tha fear 'o mortals intah them!"

Sidonie's grip tightens on the pommel of her sword with a tremble of nervous energy. Her already big eyes are wide as saucers taking the scene in, between the ice dragon, the hair's-breadth nearness of enemy ships and the risk of collision, she isn't sure what to gape at first. So she goes for the easy thing, for now, grips the railing with her free hand and calls out to Cela, "For what it's worth, they seem to be really earnest about whatever doggerel they believe in."