• Graded • Setting the Course

[Maltruism]

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Setting the Course

Scalvoris
Saun 12, arc 717

Luxury...

All around was luxury. The mental balm of light, droning tones of sleepy scenery, flowing gently through screened windows, the glass tinted against the intrusion of the early morning sun; the caressing comfort of sateen and silk on the skin, encouraging the light roll of slumber to new positions of ease and snuggling warmth; the drowsy whisper of the canopy overhead, swaying in a breeze, lightly perfumed with the fragrance of expertly kept gardens of flowering magnificence, the hum of bees adding to the murmur of dreamy leisure.

The wide, aristocrat-sized mattress beneath, padded to perfection; it's cushion accommodating the easy roll of the waves to lull the sleepers on to another round of delicious disregard for the pressures of awakening. Seagulls' voices added bright, but unoppressive woodwind highlights to the tones of slumber, as the breeze now carried the familiar homeyness of the scent of coastal air. The sounds of light street noises, horse-drawn wagons, bells and laughter adding familiarity to the whole.

The sleepers came to a sense of slow readiness to arise refreshed, taking in the elegantly furnished surroundings as if they were commonplace. Everything constructed with a master's touch. Rich paneling, chandeliers, exquisite cabinets with gilded corners and carved scroll work, completing the use of rare and fragrant woods and stain. Intricate tapestries that begged to invite you into their realities, so exquisite was the detail.

The size of their cabins themselves extensive beyond that any shipboard suite would promise for counselor or king. The polished planking warm to the touch as bare feet strolled to the door - curiously ajar - to let the glorious morning grace the trial's arrival. The single sun just a hug of heat, tempered perfectly by the breeze, not the heavy, twin suns the sleepers expect from the scorching toil of Saun.

Curious, that. And curious also that, looking back, there is only the common hatch of a simple sailing vessel, a well-loved, but hardly ornate cabin, sporting not much beyond common wood and a few shelves, the accoutrements of a seasoned sailor lying about in seeming disarray, but well-marked for swift retrieval when necessity strikes. The bed, no diplomat's grand cradle, little more than a mat on a shelf, yet home, sweet home nonetheless.

For one of the three, this sea-borne home was not the usual, yet it felt as welcoming as the tent that greeted most mornings. But even as this thought crept in, the vessel found itself far from shore, a distant haze being the only reminder of the previous evening spent in Baron Smooglenuff's lap of luxury...

All around was...no, not luxury...the sea...Each would look to find the other two also looking around without alarm, just curiosity. Had they not been ashore moments ago, in bed, in a grand manor even? That memory faded now almost as quickly as it could be attempted to be recalled. But the distance now showed the familiar Scalvoris jungle rising from a coast on the windward side.

As the wind carried them closer, they could see, or rather, not see, the absence of the volcano. Then additional details became noteworthy; difficult to define precisely, but all confirming that this was no jungle they had seen before. The landmass itself was far bigger, and the jungle defined the entire region. It was of a more savage nature, made all the more intimidating by the circling figures in the water overboard and on wings above.

A voice spoke suddenly, from a figure that had somehow been there the entire time, yet remained unnoticed until now. "Yes, my friends, this is no estate of aristocrats, no island home with contradictory jungles, where snow falls mere miles from such foliage. This is the Crescent Peninsula, home of the City of Slaves...City of the Enslavers...Athart!"

It was likely the three recognized each other from the night before, the night from which they had not yet truly awakened. But the possibility of recognizing the one speaking probably varied from one to the other. A casually clad young man, eyes opaqued with seeming blindness stared nonetheless directly at them; the very absence of irises making it seem to each that it was truly to him or her that his gaze was directed. The easy balance he maintained on the now-tossing vessel spoke to a profoundly deep experience with the waves.

The savage Mer beneath them, and the brutal avriel above, seemed to be searching for them even as the young man spoke, yet it seemed they could not quite verify their position, and always searched locations just off track of where they sat off shore, with anchor dropped. The blind young man disregarded their presence entirely. Clearly there were matters of far greater import to him.

[Arlo Creede]

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Morning had come much, much too early in the luxurious keep where Arlo was sleeping. Or at least it felt that way to him. Then again, it had been a late night and it was well after the mid-night bell when he'd finally fallen into his bed. And what a bed it was. The young traveler and dreamwalker had never slept on a mattress so soft or sheets so cool and...slippery, so far as he could remember. Arlo was more accustomed to sleeping on the ground beneath the stars or at the most with the rough fabric of his tent between him and the elements. Ordinarily he preferred it that way. But the suite with all it's luxuries and comforts was a departure from the norm that he'd be hard pressed to object to.

To his slumbering mind, the sounds and scents of early morning made perfect sense. Except that he wasn't convinced that it ought to be morning yet. The sounds of the sea lapping against...whatever it was lapping against didn't cause him to stir, even though logically the tower was far enough from shore that he shouldn't have heard it.

Coming into a slow wakefulness then, Arlo frowned, sensing the gentle rolling motion of his bed. It was possible he'd overindulged the night before. The mysterious drink he'd been handed had been foreign to him and delicious, and so he'd had another. And maybe another after that. And now that he was able to form some sort of thought, or thoughts, and string them together, the mattress wasn't nearly as thick as he remembered, or the sheets nearly as slick and soft. He opened one bleary eye and had a good look around.

Not the tower. But surely he was dreaming. It was the nice thing about being a dreamwalker, marked by Jesine with a fair knack for lucid dreaming. At first, as he sat up and put his bare feet on the floor, Arlo assumed it was his own. "Are you sure it's yours?" the little blue fairy hovering near the foot of his bed asked, and strangely with no small amount of amusement. "Nope," he declared as he stood up for the bed. He wasn't sure. Although of all the ways he'd wandered into the dreamscapes of others, either inadvertently or on purpose, this was a new one. But if he was to discover just whose dream it was, he needed to head out on deck. He'd come dressed in his nightshirt, but with ability came privilege and by the time he passed through the cabin door, he was dressed in more typical garb, with his hat on his head and Lyova riding high on its crown.

He'd already figured that he was aboard a sailing ship, but one look around, and up, convinced him that no matter who'd dreamed him into this setting, it wasn't Scalvoris anymore. But there were two figures that Arlo recognized. "Fancy meeting you here," he called out. Was it their dream? Theirs together? He couldn't exactly ask them, or tell them they were dreaming either. Dreamwalking, service to Jesine came with a particular code which amounted to do no harm, and he'd made that mistake once already and wouldn't again.

He spun round on his heel though as an unfamiliar voice called out, and Arlo spied the more likely reason for finding himself here. Strangely Lyova didn't seem surprised. Maybe his Jesine given companion, teacher and protector knew something he didn't, or maybe she was as ignorant as him. Either way she wasn't inclined to tell. Still, the man with the strange eyes didn't strike Arlo as an ordinary dreamer, or even a dreamwalker of relative skill to his own. But it seemed all the more apparent that this wasn't exactly that man's dream, so much as he was willfully responsible for them being here all together.

There wasn't any doubt in Arlo's mind that the strangely imposing figure had brought them here, via a collective dream. Here to Athart, a place that he'd never been and had never thought he'd want to. Well somebody had to ask then didn't they? "Who are you? And why are we here?" Arlo wondered aloud.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

If the dinner and mystery had been strange, the rest of the evening behind closed doors had more than made up for all of it and the Biqaj was not one to have regrets when it came to taking advantage of unexpected luxuries such as sharing a very, very nice bed with someone as lovely as the dark-haired Sev’ryn in all their borrowed finery. Nope, no regrets, and while Pash had not over-indulged in anything other than the endearing charms and fleshly delights of his lover, he was not at all a morning person most trials, with rare exception.

The sounds of the sea and the motion of a vessel in the water were so much a part of his expected normal as to be second nature to the seafaring minstrel who had lived nearly ten arcs in his sloop, and so those things did not immediately strike him as strange despite where he should have remembered falling asleep was neither his sloop nor at all familiar. Hands roaming and lips against warm skin, Pash was not particularly in a hurry to leave the bed he was convinced he was still sharing in a tower on Faldrass with Kali’rial, even as the realization that things were not as they should be began to filter into his dreaming mind,

“D’ y’ think they’ll shove us out b’fore breakfast ‘r we’ll have a bit more time t’ our—hmm.” Lagoon blue eyes washed around the room even as he all but purred his intentions, the sounds of water and the rocking of a ship finally catching up to his distracted senses, ”This be unexpected.” Pash admitted with a confused sort of smile before sliding reluctantly out of bed to investigate, dressed neither in nothing nor in finery so much as his more every day sort of attire. They were most definitely aboard a ship at sea that was entirely unlike the vessel that had brought them to the island, and he’d gladly take Kali’s hand to investigate, curious and suspicious at the same time. Had Smooglenuff decided he’d entirely had too much of them and sent them home while they slept? No, everything felt different—the single sun that greeted them through the windows and finally on the deck, the strange way things became more ordinary as they moved further in their investigations.

The ship was much larger than Pash had experienced in arcs and the horizon unfamiliar as he looked around from the windswept, salty deck, attempting to take in their surroundings only to find Kali’rial and himself joined by Arlo of all people, the young man who now had a glowing companion on his tell-tale hat,

“Arlo, you’re here, too? D’ you think we all got sent home together?” Even though they had arrived differently, the tall Biqaj was clearly still thinking everything happening was an elaborate continuation of their previous evening spent on Faldrass, though he was very aware that they were no longer anywhere near Scalvoris’ harbor. He’d sailed around the harbor for nearly three seasons now, and what loomed on the horizon was somewhere he did not recognize, “Ze, we’re no’ anywhere near Scalvoris. This be somewhere else entirely.”

A voice broke his spoken thoughts, and the man that appeared to whom the words belonged to was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Out of place. But at home. Pash could feel the Mer, their linked existences a strange awareness somewhere at the base of his pointed-eared skull, though from where he was standing, he could not see it. Something was there, waiting for them, in the water. His eyes only strayed upward for a heartbeat to see something was flying, searching, a creature that vaguely reminded him of Mero, whom Faith had explained upon his rescue as being only half-Arviel. He’d never before seen a full-blooded one, but he’d heard talk of them on the docks across all of Idalos and in Ne’Haer as slavers, scourges of free people everywhere. Even Faith’s tone about them in their conversations about slavery had not been without obvious dislike.

—But the man.

Had the tall Biqaj never before found himself in the presence of an Immortal but a handful of ten-trials ago in Ymiden, in Scalvoris, in his very place of employment, perhaps he would not have been so sure of what was happening, of who was addressing the three on the deck of a ship in a sea well over a season away from Scalvoris by the fastest vessel in the water. However, Zanik had sat across from him, had all but touched him, had conversed with him, and the pale-eyed stranger before them was perhaps even more intricately linked to his very life than the Immortal of Music. Their kinship was something else entirely, and his tide pool gaze was wide-eyed and confused, thrilled and afraid,

“Sea-Father, why are you here? Why are we here? What is happening?” His native tongue felt more appropriate, despite how it may have left his companions in the dark for but a few trills. Kali could feel the hold his calloused hand had on hers tighten and the expression that creased its way into his windswept features was a very broad smile in spite of his confusion. Only he could hear his pulse quicken and the rush of every fiber of his existence warm under his inked, tanned skin. Pash did not ask how. In this moment, he couldn’t bring his salty, musical self to even care, though he found himself unsure of what kind of reverence he should be paying to U’Frek, so the tall Biqaj could only say what he felt would be expected of his kind when faced with the Immortal who raised his people from death so many uncountable arcs ago,

“Are we here to serve you, Maker o’ m’ People?”

Off Topic

Fanboy alert. He’ll try not to pass out during important things.

[Kali'rial]

Kali'rial groaned in sleepy half protest at the feeling of rough hands and warm lips across her bare skin, not sure if she really wanted to wake up after spending a good deal of the night before thoroughly testing that the luxurious soft bed of Smooglenuff Manor was up to any possible stress it might undergo. It had been nearly the death of her beautiful gown, the damned thing proving more confusing to take off than it had been to put on, but it was entirely worth it.

"Mmm...don't get up yet...m'not ready-oh..." The dark haired huntress muttered sleepily, before opening her eyes to watch him slip out of the covers, turning her gaze across the room and noticing the sounds of the ocean outside. They weren't in the Manor anymore, but the inside of a beautifully constructed and massive interior of an unfamiliar boat. Since when had they left the island, and how had they gotten here? The Sev'ryn threw back the covers, standing up and looking down. She was dressed in her hide dress - when had that occurred? The brunette blushed with a dark frown at the thought that someone had moved her and also dressed her, both things requiring touch and view of her in a way that only Pash had permission for.

Running her fingers through her black tresses, Kali took the minstrels hand and followed him on deck, shooting her frown across the galley to take note of the single sun through the portholes. The wood underfoot was warm, and the breeze blowing gently through the door was blessedly warm. Not scorching hot, but warm. The Sev'ryn couldn't help but close her eyes and enjoy the feeling as they walked through the door. Opening her eyes on deck, her periwinkle gaze swept across the wide sea around them, turning to look back at where they had come from only to see it was nothing but a common galley. Where had the grandeur of the cabin gone?

Hearing a familiar voice, the huntress turned and looked at Arlo with a frown. What in Moseke's Blessed Light was going on? Across the waters, coming closer to them was Scalvoris Jungle - no wait, where was the volcano? That wasn't Scalvoris at all, it was somewhere else. How in all the immortals name was this even possible? In the skies above, creatures circled that if Kali squinted to see them better she noticed they weren't unlike Mero back in Scalvoris Town. Avriel, if she remembered Faith's name for them. In the water around them, some sort of aquatic creatures surrounded the boat, as though searching for something.

Searching for them, maybe.

Another voice came from the deck, and Kali'rial turned with wide eyed surprise. There was a casually dressed young man there, eyes glazed in blindness yet looking right at them. He must have always been there, yet when they had come to the deck she hadn't noticed him. How could that possibly be? The huntress listened to him speak, before turning her eyes to the landmass again. Athart, City of Slaves.

Arlo's question was a valid one, and the brunette was about to echo his sentiment when she noticed the grip of the Biqaj's hand tightening on hers. Glancing over at the man, she noticed his expression. It was similar to that he'd been wearing the night he'd come home all a fluster after Zanik blessed him at Cally's. The sailor spoke in his own native tongue, and it was then that the Sev'ryn understood.

She understood that in his position, meeting Moseke she might not be quite so together.

"By the Mothers Grace..." The huntress whispered, heart beating in her chest. This was her first true meeting with an Immortal, and just any Immortal, but the Father of her lovers people. She felt unprepared for such an event, meeting one of the ultimate Elders, bowing her head in respect. Questions ran through her head, but she held her tongue out of respect. Why are we here, why Athart? Why were the sea beasts and avriel so avidly looking for them?

Why them?

[Maltruism]

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The blind figure looked to Arlo first, raising his hand to let the others catch up. He did not bother to introduce himself, as the musician's response was sufficient to make it obvious who he was.

He gave a nod to Pash, recognizing him as a member of his chosen people, and a bearer of the mark of Zanik, one of those with whom he had pretty much always been on good terms. His smile to the woman that accompanied the Elithem marked man embodied his recognition of a partnership of love and life.

His appearance altered now to encompass the look of a warrior of the sea. His simple shirt and leggings transformed into mail of such tight fit and flexibility, it seemed as if it were the scales of a great fish. The trident of command seemed to grow right from his fists. But his eyes did not change from their opaque appearance. Nor did he loom over the trio, or enlarge his stature to an imposing degree.

He sat back upon the railing, entirely at ease with the rocking of the vessel. "They are not searching for you. Not at this time anyway. They may not ever be searching for you, if we can play this correctly. But what they will be looking for is the same thing you will be looking for, and you must find it before they do."

It suddenly seemed as if the ship sank all at once to the ocean floor, though there was no sense of movement, no cold or wet feeling, nor any lack of breathable atmosphere. But the shimmering vision of the ocean bed, complete with barnacle-crusted banks of rocks and remains of vessels, rows of kelp and schools of multi-colored fish gave depth to the impression. It was not so deep as to warrant an anticipation of increased pressure, but the currents gave a constantly moving distortion to the seascape about them.

U'frek himself looked about with furrowed brow. "Try to retain the image of this place. I am informed that something was stolen from my sister that rested here. Plant or animal, living or dead, item or material, I do not know. But she plots some vengeance against the thief. And as usual, if she does not know the exact individual, she will act out against all."

He heaved a great sigh and looked to the open water, which was now at odds with the Scalvoris marina at which the ship was now berthed, as if it had never moved. "You will be needed to conduct the search, while I keep my sister from complicating things. I can only hope to find more information to narrow the scope of that area that must be targeted. It may take some time to accomplish this."

He looked suddenly embarrassed, as if he only now remembered some important detail, "Forgive me, I make such assumptions. Can you do this for me? It will most likely be next season. Do you have plans that will prevent participation if you are not given more than a trial's notice? It shouldn't take more than a couple of trials itself."

[Arlo Creede]

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Aye, him too, Arlo had confessed with a nod when Pash asked about his presence there. Except the young dreamwalker didn't think they'd been spirited out of their beds in the night and delivered home. He knew what this was. It was a dream but a very different one. He'd only ever had a single one like it, when he'd believed he'd shared a meal with Cassion himself, and had received Jesine's blessing. It had been a dream, and yet it wasn't. Who knew how this one would turn out, Arlo mused as he stared back at a figure who appeared to be blind but probably wasn't. At least not the kind of blind that kept him from seeing.

His two new friends were confused, at least at first, about how they'd gotten to be where they were. But Arlo couldn't reveal what he knew of their state. As a follower and servant of Jesine there were rules he was bound to. Rules that he thought must apply as well to the little blue diri resting perched on the brim of his hat. Lyova watched, but didn't have much to say. It was Pash though who solved the mystery of who their host was. And Arlo smiled a little in spite of the strangeness. He should have realized. Vega had told him about the Immortal numerous times. Even Cassion himself had told him in a roundabout way. But why him? He wasn't exactly a follower.

If we play it correctly? Find what? Before Arlo could ask what the Immortal meant, he found himself still on deck, but instead of being surrounded by circling gulls and other predators, it was coral reefs and colorful fish. He didn't question how it was possible. He'd seen stranger things in Emea. He drank in every detail, making sure that he'd never forget. "Your sister? Who is your sister?" Arlo wondered, asking the irreverent question as politely as was possible. He'd recently taken up the study of the Immortals and had learned very little yet. But he couldn't recall a sister for U'trek. Unless of course, being created by Fei made all of the Immortals siblings. It didn't matter much, he guessed. But if there was an Immortal running loose and plotting vengeance upon all, he might like to know which she was.

Could they do it? Could he do it? What could mortals do for Immortals that they couldn't do for themselves, he wondered? Then again, a handful of them had enlisted countless mortals to fight for them in Treid. Arlo could hardly resist anyway. This was a puzzle, an adventure. As a follower of Cassion, he'd be a poor one if he allowed the opportunity to pass him by. "I once shared a fire and swapped stories with Cassion," he said. "He told a tale about how him, and you, were shipwrecked together for some time. I never knew if it was true. After all he's the prince of storytellers," Arlo admitted with a shrug. "But I believed him when he said that the two of you were friends. I'll do it. I'll do it now, or I'll do it with less than a trial's notice," he said, and bowed his head in respect.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash was, quite literally, barely contained. His excitement oozed out in his expression, in the grin on his face that was contrary to the levity of the situation that was unfolding and in the brighter hues of his gaze.

This felt as though it was a serious moment, unfortunately, with U’Frek telling of his sister searching for something stolen from her and the Immortal asking for their aid with an uncanny politeness some mortals didn't even posesss. Without so much as a warning, they were under the waves and his Maker asked them to remember the place. Pash took in the very strange sensation of not feeling wet and not worrying about breath (all without questioning a single thing about it in his racing mind) but seeing things from an underwater perspective, attempting to commit to memory the shapes of coral and colors of plant life, all with the warning of Chrien’s plans of vengeance against whoever had stolen whatever it was they were to look for from her. The tall Biqaj couldn’t help his enthusiasm one bit: eyes like his creator’s auroras bright and shining, doing everything in is power not to clap his hands or just grin like a drunk idiot. His self-control was questionable on a good day, but here in a place that he wasn’t aware was nowhere in his waking mind, he only held it together because he felt as though he needed to. Not because he really could.

“—Chrien’s his sister.”

The seafaring minstrel answered Arlo in a hushed baritone, not at all intending to interrupt his Maker so much as too full of feelings to be anyone but that annoying child in class who knew all the answers to all the questions in a way that would have perhaps from anyone else been abrasive or rude, “Immortal o’ Spite an’ Storms an’ Luck, though m’ people mostly assume more bad luck than good.”

Pash held tightly onto Kali’rial’s hand both because he needed her to anchor him to his composure and because the physical proximity kept him from attempting to reach out and touch U’Frek in some foolishly excited sort of way. It was one thing to give Zanik a friendly pet now and then, he was sure (though he hadn’t and perhaps regretted that just a little in hindsight), but he was somewhat convinced that not all Immortals appreciated such things.

He was really on his best behavior, all things considered.

Like, really. Ah, he did want to touch him, though. Just a little. Okay, a lot.

Instead, he laughed.

It sort of slipped out, unbidden, accidentally. Sort of.

It was loud.

Admittedly, the tall Biqaj was somewhat in shock when U’Frek verbally apologized for his—for his—intrusion into their lives and somehow humbly asked their permission to clear their schedules for him. To Pash, the need for either of those things seemed so superfluous and unnecessary, but only because of who the Immortal before him was. The same did not at all apply to his companions, obviously,

“Eja’yoama. Forgive me. I’m jus’—it’s jus’—” He was still chuckling, carefully composing himself by slipping his hand from Kali’s and running calloused fingers over his face, “No, there’s no’ plans I’ve got that can’t be changed for you.”

Who said no to your Maker?

Pash was an idiot sometimes, it was true, a foolhardy creature full of too many feelings. But he wasn’t stupid.

“Although, sailin’ t’ Athart’ll take more’n a season—“ A seafaring minstrel that he was, for a trill or two his mind began to calculate what would be needed of him to travel as far as was revealed to them in this moment and his heart raced. But there was a warmth that spread across his face and a heat of shy embarrassment that tickled the back of his neck when he remembered the Immortal before him held all the waters of the sea as his Domain, “—No’ that … transportation be an issue with you, eh? I don’ think there’s anythin’ that could be more pressin’ in m’ plans that would ever supersede service in your name.”

There. He strung words together coherently and with the hint of poetics expected of a salty bard like himself, but he still felt tongue-tied and strange before his Maker.

[Kali'rial]

Kali'rial watched in fascination as U'frek's form changed before them, wearing a scale covered set of armour and holding the a large and powerful looking trident. And even though He stood the same as they three before him, the Immortal almost glowed with powers beyond their understanding. What did one do in the presence of an Immortal? The brunette wasn't sure if she should be bowing or if she just...acted like normal. Until such time someone told her otherwise, she would treat Him like the most revered of Elders.

A Great Elder, as He was.

The Sev'ryn listened intently as he spoke, glad that the creatures beyond the boat weren't looking for them...at least not yet. They were asked then, to search, to find.

To hunt.

The Immortal wanted them to hunt for him, not a person but an item. Kali felt her heart beat a little faster, ready for the chase no matter if it was a being or item. Before she could speak or ask a question, they were suddenly under water, on the bottom of the ocean. There was no sensation of movement, yet the huntress still gasped quietly in surprise, realising she could breathe just fine.

It dawned on her then that they were not really there, of course. This was a dream, a vision. Taking in her surroundings with amazement, Kali marvelled at the coral and gentle waving of anchored oceanic plants in the undertow, before she turned to look at Pash when he spoke of U'fek's sister, thankful for the Biqaj's intimate knowledge of the Immortal and for Arlo asking the question. Outside of Moseke and Lisirra,the huntress had little to no knowledge of the others.

Arlo was first to reply, agreeing emphatically to help, drawing on his past meeting with Cassion to accept. Glancing down at her hand joined with Pash's, Kali squeezed his own back more gently, understanding the seafaring minstrel was nearly beside himself with delight. Still, it shocked her when he suddenly laughed loudly, looking at the Immortal and back again. The bard was working out time to travel, when just like that, he announced that he would accept the ask of U'frek to help hunt that which had been stolen.

Looking across the now open waters, Kali'rial turned back to U'frek and smiled.

"It would be an honour to take up the hunt for you." She said with a nod, ready to follow Pash's maker at a moments notice.

[Maltruism]

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U'Frek smiled and nodded, his team confirmed. "Thank you, my friends. I feel certain you will be able to recover...whatever it turns out to be. I will contact you when I learn exactly what it is you'll be searching for. That will surely help determine the location and terrain as well. It may be underwater, for that matter. If that should be the case, I can gift you with items to allow you to breathe in my domain."

The Sea-Lord clapped his hands gently together, sound not being the point of the gesture. He parted them again and a gap in the air formed between them. A plane of some substance like pearl or ivory formed a tray of sorts upon which sat shimmering images of curious objects. "But I do have other gifts to bestow when we meet again. These are only images, as we are not truly present even in the Mindscape, let alone the waking world, and I would not see you lose them before the hunt is even on."

Foremost upon the tray were a half dozen arrows, The arrowheads were of a curiously translucent blue color. it was possible that it was only the result of the overall shimmer of the images, but they seemed to have this quality to an even greater degree. "These are skypearl arrows, Kali'rial. They are not easy to obtain, being made of a substance that is rare even for the Iulure Islands. That is why there are only six of them. This is not say that they are only able to be used once. They will retain their power indefinitely, and can be recovered to be used again. But this has the downside of them being able to be used by your enemies as well, if they should be able to determine their unique quality.

"They fire through water with the same speed, distance and impact as if fired through air. In addition, they prevent water from causing any detrimental effect to the weapon. Lastly, and perhaps most important, they clarify the distorted trajectory of firing at an object IN the water, when you are on the surface. You will see your target in the position you truly need to fire to hit accurately. Beyond that, your own good aim is still required. You should also be warned that there is a slight swoon of vertigo when your vision returns from the affected vision granted by the arrows' magic."

It took only a twitch to divert his gaze to the Biqaj, standing, as he was, so close to the huntress. "I have been given these from Zanik himself, to then be given to you." A glance would perhaps be disappointing at first, seeing as it looked like nothing more than 4 woven strands of hair. "We had thought of bestowing a lute made of Whistling Wood from Scalvoris. But my cousin felt it would trouble you to part from the personal connection of the one you carry now."

The Immortal took hold of one of the strands, easily forming a loop at one end, and drawing it tightly between two raised bars along the railing, which seemed to form right then just for that reason. He plucked it once, and the entire vessel resonated with the clearest, purest tone any of the three had ever heard. Serenity filled their souls at the sound, memories of cherished moments casting visually across the skies as all troubles or thoughts of aggression became impossible to imagine, leaving them in sublime contentment.

"These are made of Zanik's own hair. String them upon your grandfather's lute and it will sing like never before. The blessings Zanik grants you will be greatly enhanced. You need only wrap these strings around the pegheads, and they will be secure to tighten and play. No knotting or underlying will be necessary. And they are removed just as easily. A warning though. It is to be noted that tranquility is not the only emotion that can be empowered. You must be careful of this."

The moment he let the strand become slack, it reappeared on the tray with the others. He now turned to Arlo. "You are perhaps one that I could give this gift to now, as you would have no problem making your way back to the waking world. But it is not yet ready. I have only acquired it, and it must still be ground to lens measures."

On the tray was a stone. It was unusual certainly, but hardly gem quality in appearance; perhaps a blue quartz at best. "Holding it to your eye and looking through it will display nothing right now. But at night..." the scenery immediately darkened to midnight, with only the starlight allowing them to see each other. "...looking through this one side..."

As Arlo turned the stone, he could already see the effect that was to come, light shone upon one side; the light of full day time shining through from the other side. As he held it fully to his eye, the full light of midday lit all that could be seen through it, the effect becoming panoramic as he turned to scan the full circumference of the horizon.

U'frek explained, "It is a Night Glow Gem; and being ground and fitted into your spyglass will give you an edge possessed by few others in the dark of night. Magnification and daylit scenery where all others are stymied by the darkness."

The Immortal now took a stance that allowed his blind appearance to focus on the three mortals together, "I will have these ready for you next season. I will come to you this same way when the time is at hand. For now, you may certainly feel free to spend the rest of your repose upon this vessel. Otherwise, if you choose, you may go below, through that hatch, and you will find yourselves back where you originally were."

[Arlo Creede]

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The promise of discovery, adventure, made and asked by the Immortal himself? Arlo had never considered refusing. If some of those discoveries were made underwater, then all the better so far as he was concerned. The young man had explored some on the land, more than most in Emea. Why not at the bottom of the sea, he wondered as he looked round them again and marveled at it all.

He'd hardly be so foolish as to misplace anything he was given here by U'frek, even if his blessing from Jesine meant that he alone might be able to carry it back with him. But when he was handed the unusual stone, Arlo understood why the delay. Even more so when their surroundings turned to dark and he was allowed to experiment with the thing. What he saw was a wonder, should have been impossible, and when he handed it back he thanked U'frek and grinned a little. "It'll be a one of a kind spyglass. I'm grateful, and I'll do my best to put it to good use. In your service."

"I'll be ready," he promised once they were on the surface of the waves again. As for when he'd return to his bed in the tower, Arlo wasn't in any rush. He'd made a habit of exploring at night while he slept, as Jesine's gift allowed him to. And he'd feel as rested in the morning as he did any other. So no heading back to the cabin for him. Instead he'd bide his time, roam the deck and wonder what he'd just got himself into.