• PM To Join • 1.4 A Tuft Problem [The Frigid Main]

Alas for Valaris Part 1, Chapter 4.

The Orm'del Sea is an ocean that separates Eastern and Western Idalos. It is said to have many horrors awaiting those that wish to travel through its waters.
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Llyr Llywelyn
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1.4 A Tuft Problem [The Frigid Main]

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VALARIS: THE FIRST EXPEDITION
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30 SAUN, ARC 720

The expedition ship, a sea-vessel just large enough to fit the 40-some team of explorers, slowed once they passed the Gulf of Vigilance, just east of the city of Hiladreth. North, they would continue, along the western coastline. Until they reached the last expedition's makeshift port for landing. The temperatures had dropped, and those layers that the Viden team had discarded in Rharne, now came into use. Bundled up, most people stayed below deck and away from the frosty air that cut across the sea. They stayed within sight of the coast, though, never straying too far from at least a hint of land on the horizon.

Llyr Llywelyn stood at the bow of the ship, coat tightly secured and scarf wrapped around a few times to help cover his lower face as well as his shoulders. He observed the various little white dots scattered over the watery ground of the sea's surface.

"Knife tufts," repeated Zeilos while he stood beside Llyr. In the near distance, the captain could be heard relaying instructions to the crew. "No way around them either, not unless we go to deeper waters. Then we might actually run into the ice fractures."

Llyr sniffed, the tip of his nose dusted silvery-blue from the cold. He shook his head and said, "So, we have to get rid of them then?"

"Or be prepared to protect the hull..."

"Can they be pulled up or blown away?" asked Llyr and he hummed when Zeilos shook his head 'no'.

"They have to be broken up, otherwise they anchor in," explained Zeilos. He looked toward the captain and nodded. "So, that's what we'll be doi-"

"I can help," said Llyr. His gossamer wings spread out behind him in full dragonfly-shaped display. "But I'll go along with a boat, just in case I fall. They'll have to grab me. Or... maybe I might be able to do it from here, and no one need go out on their own. I can give it a try?"

Zeilos raised a hand to gesture for the captain to hold off on the orders. He nodded, "If you want to try, then."

Llyr eyed the bow, then climbed up onto the narrowest tip of the bow where the figurehead rested. He didn't know what woman the figurehead was, just that it was a rather shapely lady with a lot of hair. He grabbed onto one of the sculpted strands of hair to help balance while he looked at the various Knife Tufts that littered their path. Once sure of his balance, he held out a hand and ether gathered around the palm. The biqaj aimed, then sent a wide bolt of ether to skim across the sea surface.

The corroding ether broke apart a handful of knife tufts, some of the ice splintered to float along the surface in tiny pieces while other portions melted away.

Llyr considered, then turned and shouted over a gust of wind so that Zeilos could hear him, "I could probably do this for a good stretch, maybe enough to get us past it."

"What do you think, captain?" returned Zeilos while the ship's captain came over and glanced at what had happened. A few words exchanged, then Zeilos nodded and returned, "Okay, we're going to take it slow but give it a chance. Clear out anything in the path and give a shout if something goes wrong."

word count: 591
Please — consider me a dream.
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Doran
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Re: 1.4 A Tuft Problem [The Frigid Main]

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The last time that the Mortalborn had traveled by ship had been approximately four arcs prior. He had gone to Ne’haer upon his Immortal father’s request and ultimately travelled through Emea, to the frozen plains of Oscillus in order to fight in the battle at Treid’s Tomb. He could not help but think about those events as they travelled westward, along the coast. The icy temperatures reminded him of that journey, and of his regrets, although he did not dwell on the latter for more than a few moments at a time. He preferred to focus on the future, on the mission that they were about to undertake – and the things that they might encounter once they had finally reached their destination.

Unlike most of their companions, Doran did not stay below deck, but remained near Llyr, at the bow of the ship, looking at the icy ocean that extended in front of them. In spite of how similar the landscape was to Oscillus and in spite of the dangers that they had been warned about, he looked forward to the exploration of Valaris. The possibility of discovering artifacts – the creation and analysis of magical items was one of his specialties – was not the only reason. He had been cooped up in his laboratory for the better part of two arcs and hardly left Viden, apart from a short trip to Scalvoris the cycle before.

The temperatures had dropped considerably since they had started their journey. He did not mind the cold as much as the mortals around him, but he had changed into warmer clothes a little while prior regardless, a dark woolen coat that was lined with fur and had silver fur around the edge of the hood, among other things. His hands were encased in gloves, and a fine scarf was wrapped around his neck and the lower part of his face.

He could see the white dots that were in front of them as well, and he furrowed his brow fractionally as he was not sure what they were (he was not particularly familiar with matters of seafaring). When Zeilos stated that they were knife tufts and that they might cause problems, he raised an eyebrow. When Llyr offered his help and subsequently aimed an Ether Misssile at the knife tufts, thus breaking them apart, he remarked in a calm and deep tone of voice, “I can help as well. Two Transmuters will be able to get things done faster.”

A few moments later, he approached the edge of the bow as well. Unlike Llyr, he did not even attempt to perform acrobatic moves. He was well aware of the limitations of his body. While regular training in Menochoros had provided him with a certain amount of additional flexibility that he had not possessed before, climbing the bow would have led to mixed results at best and ended with him in the freezing water below at worst. For that reason, he merely stood near the edge and extended his hand in order to gather ether above his palm.

But a few trills later, he sent a crimson Ether Missile – due to his advancing in his chosen magic, his ether had acquired a unique quality – towards the next set of knife tufts in order to hopefully break them apart and render them harmless so that they would be able to continue their journey, at least for a while, until the next obstacle presented itself.
word count: 580

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Re: 1.4 A Tuft Problem [The Frigid Main]

MOD BOMB!!


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Madness is not a color. Yet its hue could be easily detected in the eyes that opened suddenly in the frozen chambers of a laboratory in icy Valaris. Far to the north by global standards, yet far to the south by his own, something disturbed the network.

Radically opposing, yet equally manic drives contested for priority of response. One mind spoke of violation to be crushed, another grasped at hope of respite from the long arcs of thankless duty, the which had by now nearly driven his own name from his memory.

Dedication alone...dedication and patriotism allowed recall though. The names of the families for whose honor and safety he had willingly remained behind, among them the staunch name of Ettrick...Mason Ettrick, loyal soldier of true Rynmerian blood.

A ship now strove to pass the net of ice that covered swaths of otherwise open sea. But it was being attacked, not defended against. Curiosity went hand in hand with suspicion. Had he never had the opportunity to advise such magic as transmutation to take a self-bolstering, defensive approach to passing the ice fields? It was possible. So much was confusion now between true memory and wishful fantasy.

Of course the scattered remains of destroyed tufts would only find new purchase where the inertia of the hostile magic left them strewn. The proper response was to buy passage with acceptance of damage to one's vessel. It showed that profit was not the aim of one's presence. Profit was the mindset of the violator, the reptile, the graverobber.

He who had stood guard all this time prayed to what gods had not yet abandoned him that it was a ship from Rynmere, come to relieve him and take him home. Was it NOT such a mission....

Even as the thought took root in his mind, the anger swelled within his heart, or what was left of it. Marooned he was, had been, would be. Marooned and alone. That much at least would change now. Was this crew not come to spell him from his solitude and endless monitoring of the Frigid Main, he would see their vessel crushed and useless; their presence a boon to give him company for as long as they lived.

No doubt they would be angry.

A chuckle escaped his lips at the thought...it grew slowly to a cyclone of howling glee. But not one to take physical form. Not yet. He would give them their chance first. They would be welcome. He would not ask them their intent. That would be undignified. He would wait for them to suggest it.

But not long....
word count: 444
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