Hold fast

[rubyrubyruby]

There's no time to explain. Except there is!
By the three isles, the fleet is mustering ever since the away team made it back to the boats. The big table had been bolted to the deck, there had been visitors rainbow a-poppin in for chats. Merrisol's Snoot had set a course to do some snoofling. Sails run up and guns run out.
Ruby is by the big table and there's been little time to set the chess board. There's a mess of biscuits to denote ships, and Incarnate looks like she's trying to psionically arrange them into formations, and it's not working apart from making her eyes bloodshot. She's put out a call to Captains and companions not blowing bubbles underwater to gather around to peer at the board. There are mostly groupings of edible ships, each needing a commander. A couple gravy boats mark out the arks.

Heeding the call to table, though not to munch, Flame strides with evident confidence to that table and Incarnate. Along the way, she scans the waters near their position, mentally noting where the visible ships lie around them.When she reaches the table, she nods a greeting to Ruby while her gaze turns down to the table. Studying it, she leans a bit forward, the length of her braid swaying over her shoulder. Catching the orange and auburn length, she keeps the end from sweeping a hapless biscuit boat into oblivion, "We should be spread out among the fleet with some..." Pausing, she frowns, then looks up at Ruby, "I know that it is late for ideas, Incarnate, but if one of us is below our enemies, we could drag more of them with us. And if we can get them to sail into the center of our fleet, we could bring more if we are spread out around the perimeter. If it is indeed too late, that's fine. Where do you want me, Captain?"

The Solar Flare received her dive order just as soon as Merrisol arrived on board with Clive via location trump, leaving the rest to sort out their departure from the beach. Tracing the coastline at a safe thirty foot depth, bypassing the old wrecks and other remnants of sea battles past, rounding a peninsula, she encountered the shoals of the lagoon from which the troop carriers were still launching the ground forces out to sea. The simple matter of trailing beneath their wake to discover the fleet formation took a turn when her sonar picked up movements deeper beneath the waves than the ships they were set to spy amongst. Things trailing beneath a number of the strange hulls, like sharks. For a minute, Merrisol wondered if these were the alpha critters that had been dogging the Triskelion Arks through shadow...? Flooding the interior with the sounds of the undersea, the Rebmans listened to the tonal palette and agreed what was ahead was as unnatural as a carnival mascot. The order for a sharp dive and silent running came just moments to evade the search beams of grotesque diving pods, chained to and supplied by the fleet as obviously anti-submarine, and perhaps even anti-Rebman, measures!

Ruby absently grabs a biscuit. The S.V. SaltyBits has its baked keel severed in one stroke. She chews and there are crew crumbs overboard. S.O.S.! Ruby swallows and she gives Maggie a series of nods. "I figure we gots about 9 sections, so one 'o those would be ideal. If you gots a good suggestion 'o where you can be most effective...Give you first choice."
Ruby reaches over the desk to grab more biscuits from the bag. Lining up a series of biscuits 3/3 in parallel, 6 in all. "Tha's a good idea Maggie. Gonna need someone in charge 'o each 'o these. Each 'o these biscuits is about 20 bloody ships. An If we could manage tah 'ave at least 4 or 5 relatives spread around, surely we can en-compass tha lot. We need a forward wedge 'o biscuits, a middle 'o biscuits, an a tail 'o biscuits, an maybe tha wildcard 'o a submerged one, loike you say." Ruby hrms. "Six lead Cap'ns. I think if we 'ave tha two remainin Arks in our center, it could 'elp bait them tah come in close tah sink or board."

A location Trump! Well, Susan could get used to travel that way. Being able to keep your eyes open AND it's instant? These are some quality of life improvements she can get behind. It isn't long after she arrives there that she undergoes her own transformation back into the familiar form of Clive, leaving him with some uncomfortable undercrackers. While they are setting off, he makes use of that handy mirror there to zip back to the Chimera for a change and to grab his chart of what he and Lhasa has scouted previously. For much of the time during the dive, he listens in carefully to the sounds around them and the opposing fleet above, keeping his eyes closed to focus in on it as best he can.

The sound of motor overhead at a low sedate rumble as the airship floats down to the aft end of the Beast. A line is dropped and Wynter slides deftly down the rope to the deck. The airship returning to it's station and cutting engine power to coserve fuels.
A half a minute and Wynter is at the table and looking over the foodwar before them. She leans in towards Ruby's side and hipchecks lightly. "The Warbyrds are ready. Itching to get into a fray one would say. Where do you want us and how? And of course I have to ask do you want magical support or remain magic silent?"

Maggie lstueies the board a bit longer, half wincing as the hapless SaltyBits and her loyal crew are claimed by a hungry goddess. Poor little crumbs. Blowing the poor things off the table unhelpfully, Maggie nods thoughtfully as she watches the bread fleet assemble. "Mmmhmmm." The sound of the engine causes her to jerk her head upward, scanning the air until she recognizes Wynter. Her lips purse, then and she turns to Ruby, "We'll have to think in three dimensions when moving the fleet or those above and below could be left behind." Wynter is given a quick smile in greeting before Maggie's attention refocuses downward. Where should she be? "You should take the lead, Incarnate. I will take the rear. If we can get Martin and Quinlan on either side, we should be able to form a... A bubble. Or a cube. Around the fleet. Does that sound reasonable?"

Listening is what the SF does best in these situations. Nevermind it's the only thing she can do right now, cloaked in twilight. That, and looking, for her rather unique design allows for better visual scouting than just a periscope. They are cruising more than 300ft below the enemy when they can, out of range of their sweeping lamp beams and the filtered sunlight that would easily reflect off mirror and bronze, giving away their position. The newly returned Ms. Cristholm has her navigational job cut out for her, keeping their vessel from scraping the seabed as geological formations loom and fall away, while the enemy trolls in sight of the mainland. The external feed is left open for Clive to commune with the alien waters, while Merri employs the seahorse figurehead, scouting the outlined shapes far above and noting vessel sizes and types.
After the terse, subvocal report to their allies through conference trump, he is quiet in consideration for Clive's meditation. His own shadowed features are lined with concern and calculation.

Ruby triple blinks at the entrance and hip to hip. "Aye Wyntah." The physical contact and status update add another important element to matters. Maggie's additional wisdom on 3-dimensions sounds correct to Ruby and she nods reluctantly with a grunt. "Everyone is gonna get it bad. It's gonna be real bad." Ruby sighs and sucks at food caught between her teeth. "Aye, I willin tah take me lumps at tha front. Sides will be 'orrible. We try tha line-o-battle formation an push intah them. Will they try an run between us an give us broadsides from both sides...or try an flow tah eithah side...? Bog knows what tha skies will be loike. Aye Wyn, I think you an Sawbones gonna see some action. I wouldn't 'old back on usin magic. We need tah use every edge, but not blow all our powdah on first contact. 'Opefully Merri knows some tricks tah keep from gettin crumpled. Don't loike anythin I 'earin there. Merri 'as always 'ad tha edge with 'is bloody undahboat. I don't loike 'earin there be othahs thinkin they so clevah."
Ruby takes a deep breath and eyes how the wind is filling the sails. Peers at the airships and then moves her gaze towards the water ahead. "I can't get a feelin on 'ow this is gonna goo, I gots tah be 'onest. See, objective ain't just tah sink them as quick as we can. Naw, we gots tah get in close enough tah bring them all on a merry jaunt tah Cibola, roight? We 'ave tah ~last~. We 'ave tah endure long enough tah drag 'em tah Cibola. Remoinds me I 'ave tah 'ave a special word with our Pattern walkahs when it comes tah tha shadowpath."

Clive isn't always the most talkative of folk and some might even say he can be downright hostile, but in the midst of all of this, he is completely silent. Every little groan, every swish, each splish or splash get scrutinized individually and in the context of the pattern (little p) as a whole. There are moments when his brow knits, those where his head cants a bit to one side, and a few where he snorts softly in surprise. Outward signs of whatever his impressions may be start to fade as he slips into what almost appears to be a nap.

Wynter nods and to Ruby and gives the table another long look. Maggie then gets nods as her head lifts up. Small tight smile her mind is still on battle preperation and tactics. A small tilt of her head and then her eyes go unfocused. "Will they need to be going the same dirrection as us or just close? Because if it's just close tempt them with the arcs and something even more. A white flag of surrender? Dirty trick mayhap but we know they think little of us right now. And they might not be interested in a white flag at all." She shrugs.

Maggie nods to Ruby first, then to Wynter reflexively. "Sorry, Incarnate. But there is symbolizm in you being in the lead and as you said, we need every advantage here. I want to take a small few ships to sail in after them, if possible. Maybe use a pincer maneuver to bring ours around in a rough circle. Then when we start to shift, I can catch stragglers and make sure that we don't lose anyone." Glancing up at Wynter, she considers the mage for a long moment, then sighs, "I wouldn't do it. The white flag works because it is assumed that it is not used unless tha honest intent is to surrender. Misusing it intentionally may have repercussions through Shadow. But... It is a solid tactic and one that they might not believe anyone would use, so it might work really well." She nods in thoughtful appreciation of the deviousness of the notion. Speaking more slowly, she continues, "I would suggest that we let them be a little faster than we are until they and we are in position. We will all have to be moving to shift." Again, she looks at Ruby, but speaks, "It is easier to shift if everyone is going in the same direction and are fairly close together." That is in anser to Wynter's query though she focuses on Ruby, "That has been your experience too, hasn't it?" While considering the logistics of the surface situation, she tries not to think about the enemy beams below and the danger her Beloved and their friends are in. They will be fine. Right? Right. Returning her gaze to Ruby, she nods, "A discussion about the walk is a good idea. The more we know about where we are going and what condition we should be in when we get there the better."

Clive has got the shadow sea's dynamic acoustics covered. Mr. Moore is getting his sonar groove on, hunched over the dimness of his readings with the headphone clamped to one ear, interpreting the faint clicks and hollow rumbles from the consortium ships. For his part, Merrisol has the critter sensors turned up, though as expected, the marine life higher than pondscum level is non-existent in these metallic waters. As the Selkie slips into his songful stupor, the sub commander takes up Maggie's trump card and hazards a bit of doohickey light by which to focus on his wife's image. First giving an update on numbers, indicating the might of an armada half again the strength of Triskelion, comprised of classic sail and more bizarre hybrids with propellors or oars; he adds in a low growl, "Got the feeling they've got these tricks beneath the waves, specifically to anticipate Rebman action, Only. Which means, we've been reconned right back, and more thoroughly. For who knows how long now." He resists the urge to scan through the periscope again as Mr. Moore makes quiet worrisome noises at his station. "More than that.. they're actively searching these waters for us. I think they may have already been tipped off about us.. our visit to the clifftop.. and who we are. Can't shake the thought of Chiara and Jan losing track of Nailah near the staging grounds..."

Ruby slides a biscuit over to the pile and considers it. And then gives it a quick finger flick into one with a weevil in it. "Aye, what Maggie said. Goin in tha same direction is best in me experience. Never tried tah bring somethin along goin in tha opposite direction. If they smart an it was just a single pattern walkah, they could just keep goin an goo far enough tah goo beyond tha range 'o what we capable of. I dunno if it would even work. Marchin femmes an blokes is easier. Only one plane, same speed, toight togethah. This ship busy-ness is tricky. It be tough when Maggie an me was just bringin ours, an 'oldin tah one speed an formation. No toime tah test, an trust each Walkah can break oof a piece 'o tha big cookie. We bring them pieces an nibble as we goo."
Ruby clears her throat. "I ain't gonna risk tha surrender gambit. They ain't consistent in even givin parlay at all in tha past, an I don't wanna give any notion tah ships 'o this fleet tha it be an option tah give up, false or not. I 'ave a way tah get a signal tah everyone when we should boog out. By tha way...'ow do people feel aboot...boooogs?"

Wynter nods to the answers she's given and puts fingertips to her lips in thought. A raise of brow at Ruby's question. "Bugs? Why would you ask about that? I dislike them in general but am willing to leave them be if I am left alone?" Her eyes continue to stare at the fleet formation as if willing it show her another option or three. "How much time do we have to finish preparing before this thing goes off and battle ensues?"

Maggie squints at something, "So... We are taking them in bites rather than as a whole?" Certain that she has misunderstood something, Maggie begins to weave contingency plans into her initial understanding. Shaking her head slightly, she does look relieved that they won't try the surrender tactic, despite its clear merits. Ruby's question about bugs catches her off guard, but her answer is not given immediately. Instead, she stills and her gaze abstracts as a Trump call comes in. Her delight in seeing Merrisol is muted by circumstance and the apparent need for quiet over on his side. Listening, she relays the report to those near by, including the fleet size and the addition of Triskellion specific counter measures. That alone is troubling. Nodding to the Sub Captain, she nibbles her lower lip, but agrees, "It is hard to think that there is a traitor in the ranks, but that is logical all things considered." Once the report has been passed, Maggie flashes a glance toward Ruby, then back again. "Oh, Incarnate says that she has some kind of bug based ship-to-ship communication option. I don't know more than that, but can probably pass on more info once we have it."

Mr. Moore hisses alert as he picks up on the scattered array of new blips, objects falling through the sea beneath the manned diving bells. A handful of seconds later, the viewports of the silent submersible abruptly shimmer with light as canisters erupt in chemical flashes, lighting up the depths in ghostly washes of green. The Solar Flare is caught visually, as a chiaroscuro of glowing metallic plates and glossy honeycomb deck, even as within, Merri reacts in an instant, ordering Cristholm to bank away and sharply alter course. "Sorry Hotstuff, gotta cut this short.. we've been made," he informs her quietly, urgently. "Trying to lose them before coming back." Without further remark, he pockets the card while the Ops deck tilts hard beneath his feet. The undersea is coming to life above them, enemy chatter as coordinates are marked, and new sorts of canisters jettisoning to fall from the 'sky' all around.

Ruby pushes herself up from looming over the table. "I'd loike tah take us all in one big group, but there be so many vari-ables 'o speed, direction an clusterin. It moight be easier if each Walkah 'andles a cube or...globe or...'owever you picture it in yer 'ead, tah grab as many as friendlies an enemies be engaged with their section. Tha way when chaos 'appens, at least there be more manageable pockets. Those tha can use tha pattern can race for Ci-bola with their clusters. We may not come out 'o shadow all at tha same toime an same place, but we all know tha path is where we need tah enter, eithah end 'o it. It'll bring us tah tha center 'o tha node."
Ruby chews on her bottom lip. "Aye, I gots a means tah communi-cate withoot trumps, but it means puttin yer faith in beasts or begmans. Gots toime tah get one or tha othah deployed before we slug it out. We gots maybe an 'our or two."

Maggie nods to the trump connection but freezes as a look of surprise and horror grows on her features. She nods quickly, but does not speak as the connection is suddenly dropped. She blinks, turning to look at Ruby primarily, "Okay. Okay. They found the Solar Flare. Captain Merrisol," Captain's name and title given for luck and for the crew's benefit, probably, "... is trying to lose them. I..." A hand lifts to rub the bridge of her nose as her eyes close. Sending a silent wish ror all of their safety, she inhales and tries again, "Captain Incarnate, the enemy know things about us that they should not know. It is possible that they are tracking us or that there is an informant around somewhere. But be that as it may, I think that we should use their preoccupation with the sub to set our trap. That might help relieve some of the pressure on the sub just as this gives us an opportunity to catch them by surprise. Also, I would expect that Wynter can whistle up a wind that gets us all going in the same direction and speed. Maybe. That might help us gather more of the ships than we could without the help."

The fleet is careening into final formation now. The crews of the vessels are at general quarters and the floating arsenals are in the final stages of being primed for battle. It's noisy and busy. Someone is still sharpening cutlasses, and quartermasters have powder boi's and gurl's getting gunpowder out from under lock and key. Ruby is still hosting those coming in at a moment's notice, and she makes sure a space of the deck is kept clear of pedestrians when incoming Trumpers can materialize.

Aside from sometimes helping with the 'keep everyone in the same Shadow' work, Quinlan's ....not being very mage-y. The scrawny mageling is, if anything, pensive and quiet, watching the world around him as if half expecting it to explode...or maybe tear.

The mainland can be glimpsed. There are sails on the horizon that belong to someone else. So many sails. There should be seaguls circling. And there would be if this was a normal place with a well-functioning ecosystem. But the cry of gulls and their wheeling has been replaced by larger specks using the thermals to keep aloft above the enemy fleet. A smog of cookfires doused makes a pall of smudgey air closer to the coastline, presumably where the enemy encampment was glimpsed by some Wheeled warriors.

Chase is aloft in the rigging, his eyes peeled on the horizon. The Mandrke is a General on land, saddly at sea he is little more skilled then a sailor. The lay of the land is wide open waters, still he seems intent on comming up with a strategy.

Maggie paces for a while, her bootsteps clipped and short, her mind open to receive a Trump call, should it come. Watching the preperations, she takes note of Chase up there and Quinlan yonder before she turns at the end of her final pass and strides up to Ruby, "I will give Kerf and his crew another minute or two to trump in. Then, I will trump them to see if they need to be pulled to safety. However, if you would raather I get to my ships, I will do so." And trump from ther, more than likely. "Do you have a preference?"

Lhasa is at the ready not far behind Maggie and Ruby. She's set up for both roles, her medical pack strapped securely to her back, and her weapons at her hips: a jeweled cutlass on her left, and a longer, slender rapier to her right, along with a jagged-edged black dagger. She looks uncharacteristically grim as she squints out at the enemy sails beyond. Her eyes may be on the horizon, but her ears are carefully listening to the Captains speak. Her fingers drum on her pocket, the outline of her Trump deck plainly seen.

The waters beneath the enemy fleet are alight with chemical sunbursts in the depths while the spotters in ship-towed diving bells relay live coordinates for the Solar Flare as she attempts to escape into the open ocean. The first of the weighted sinkers is triggered by electrical current, rocking a concussive blast through the immediate vicinity. The submersible catches it in the tail and turns on her side for a few seconds, tossing every unsecured person or thing within. Then another detonation, too far ahead to do damage, but meant to turn her aside. Captain Merrisol grips the periscope control column and leans outward with the G's, calling over the noise and fury the undersea has become, "Bear to port, Ms. Cristholm! We'll exhaust their fire on that side, then break through the gap!" He hauls himself in to gaze through the periscope, scanning the armada's underside through the popping seascape. "Fleet's on the move, parallel to the cliffs! They'll run into ours on that heading!" he calculates aloud for Clive's benefit, if the Selkie is out of his trance, or at least not brained against the bulkhead.

Warnings! Excited voices! What the hell just hit him? Oh. The bulkhead. Clive wakes up from his deep contemplations with wild eyes and looks about the interior of the Solar Flare. What he hears through the headset combined with the muffled voices around him have him peeling out of the bit of technology and standing up, leaving it behind. Each of the crewmembers and stations are examined before he finally looks to Merrisol, admitting with a shared, silent look that he is thoroughly useless here and he should probably get out of the experienced submariners way. "Good hunting, Captain." Two steps have him backing toward the exit of the bridge with hands against a bulkhead to steady himself before he turns and accelerates, now headed for that room with the mirror in it...

Quinlan walks over to Maggie, and Ruby. He's tugged a cloak out of his bag to warm himself under. With the staff for balance and the cloak to hide his too-narrow frame he almost looks like a respectable mage, but maybe looks are as far as it goes. "I don't trust anything more real than my illusions here," he said quietly. "And I'm not too sure about them either. I'm pretty sure my glamours could be realistic as anything this far out - the problem is this Shadow's so unstable they might cross the line from 'realistic' to 'real' without my ever intending it. If you think it will help, I'll use them. The good news is I could probably conjure anything at all and your enemies would probably find it a plausible threat."

There's a strange addition to part of Ruby's ship, and is no longer obscured by oilskin. A rectangular metal box is bolted to the decking, quite near the wheel. A very varnished wooden box is atop it. There's a plethora of bits and buttons. Begman heresy! Ruby is eyeing it anxiously. She yammers, "Where tha bloody 'ell is tha knob-twistah tha can operate this?!" Maggie snaps Ruby out of her current lament and she turns to Captain Flame. "Whut? Oh, aye. Aye, Maggie. Naw, we gots ~some~ toime. Toime tah share a moment 'o peace before tha air be full 'o flyin splinters and lead whistlin over'ead. We wait as long as possible an give yer Fancy man a chance. Glad for your company for now." Ruby turns and eyes Lhasa and gives her a grunt and a nod. "Doc, you look as ready as anyone can be. Tha should put some moinds at ease. Bloody 'ell, I suppose I should strap somethin on as well." She makes a shrill whistle through her teeth to summon some arms. She turns to Quinlan and the offer. The mention of magic makes her uncomfortable but today is ripe with it. "If it 'elps urge tha enemy tah stick tah tha same di-rection, tha should make tha shift intah shadow with them easier when we try and grab at 'em. Probably too much tah 'ope we get them all, but we need tah try. An once tha starts, don't stop till Cibola if you can. Just get tah either end 'o tha shadowpath. It'll...draw ships in when they get close enough. Let it."

Merrisol's oblique gaze meets Clive's just long enough to receive and acknowledge, then his gaze returns front and center; tracking the falling explosives which his navigator has been instructed to bait with some fancy steering. "See you topside," he calls before Clive can hightail it from Ops. The vessel shudders and and tilts through a series of detonations, skirting disaster until their luck runs thin and a ripple of watery force sends the SF scraping into the sea bed. A great cloud of sediment results, presenting the sub with the opportunity to limp away under murky cover, oarfins bent and groaning.

Minutes later, the Selkie comes staggering out of his Captain's Quarters, taking sideways steps as he gets his non-submarine sea legs underneath him again. The deck of the Chimera is abuzz with the final preparations. Her cannons are given one last check, loose items are tied down and stowed away, and weapons are all at the ready. Everyone there has prepared for a rough trip, assuming the worst of what this strategy might require of them. Up on the deck, Clive heads over toward Barnaby to begin a quick conference on the status of the squad. His spyglass comes out to start getting a look at the other ships while listening to his right hand man.

Chase watches as the activity on the deck really begins to move, giving a slight nod, more to himself then anyone else (who'd see it up here anyway) He leaps from the mast, his form a blur as he plunges toward the water only to come back into focus as a silvery/white drake, spreading his wings to catch the wind flying low across the waves in front of the flag ship.

Maggie nods slowly, "Yes. Okay." Worry tears at her, but Ruby is right. Besides, it is his choice. Tilting her head a bit, she studies the contraption with distracted attention as she listens to Lhasa and Quinlan. Lhasa is given a quick once4-over and a tight smile before turning to Quinlan, "Now, that is interesting. A number of possibilities present themselves. I kind of wonder what would happen if we had illusion sky windows open and close around the enemy. Would they take it as encouragement or censure? Would they expect reinforcements or flee? Though I don't want your illusory skuy windows to become the real deal." Inhaling, she pauses, "Maybe a flight or two of dragons. Or something less perolious. I will need to change soon." A nonsequitor tossed in at the end. A silvery streak catches her attention and she notes Chase' direction and speed.

Quinlan's lip quirks in the echo of a smile. "I was thinking more a soft mist over the waves, followed by the illusion of floating mines," he said. "If they deliberately sail into the minefield I could test some actual Arcanis on their ships, and whatever happens would be assumed to be the result of sailing into a mine or two."

Lhasa's expression is more of a vague suggestion of a smile as she regards Flame, Incarnate, and the new fellow, Quinlan. Her attention is drawn to the Begman device causing Ruby distress. A new toy? She nods to Ruby in response to the grunt, but it's a bit halfhearted, as she is distracted by the sight of the new machine. She fidgets with the spectacles perched on her nose and steps toward the mysterious box. She squints down at it in fascination. "What is it?" she says loudly enough to be heard by Ruby and Maggie.

Ruby doesn't touch the box, but makes tentative spider hands around it, like it was protected by a strange invisible field. "Tha Valentino bloke we 'ad dealins with in Begmah. 'E came through with 'is promise. Tha promise 'o ~Re-mutt aud-yo die-liveries fer Eye-mediate Ore-ations~. 'E chopped down ten trees tah write down tha instructions. You'd need glasses as big as tha moon tah read it all at once. Apparently me fingahs ain't tha roight shape or I'd turn it on. Need one 'o them tricky sorts tah operate...but if it works, we can put tongues in many ear'oles at once. It moight give us tha edge we need tah get organized."