[center] [img]https://farm1.staticflickr.com/945/39931267910_b1ba85727b_o.jpg[/img][/center] [right][sub][h3][b]Winterhold[/b], [color=gray][s]Skyrim[/s][/color][/h3][/sub] [sub][h3][color=gray][s]1700,[/s][/color] [b]Sun's Height 14[/b], [color=gray][s]4E 205[/s][/color][/h3][/sub] [/right] [sup][sup][sup][hr][/sup][/sup][/sup] Three days ago, the sky was clear. Three days ago, low tides lazily rolled through ocean waters, barely swatting at the ships' seemingly adamant hulls. The Sea of Ghosts started calm, with winds in near perfect orientations and blowing just strong enough for planned speed. The first two days were Kyne-blessed, as those living on the waves thanked the goddess of air for their good fortune. The small fleet of four ships encountered no other vessels at sea. This meant that few ships, if any, escaped the Kamal navy at Windhelm. However, it also meant sailors of nearby ports, Solitude and Blacklight, received warning to stay well away from the invaded areas. For what everyone knew, Blacklight might be overran as well. But for all that mattered, no Kamal ships were present off the Pale's coasts either. Some estimated all of the metal ships focused on Windhelm. That was an optimistic estimate, for none knew the true size of the Kamal fleet. They had at least fifteen vessels, probably a couple more in reserve, which added above twenty. Besides [i]The Courtesan[/i], three other ships of different makes took up a loose formation. A medium-sized Nordic longboat belonging to the Thane of Dawnstar, a Nibenay style carrack waylaying to Blacklight, and finally, another Nordic boat volunteered by its altruistic captain for the purpose of rescue. The captains received no training save for the Jarl's speech, which were more political and abstract than practical. But with a stroke of dumb luck, the four ships stayed cohesive and covered two-third of the distance in two days. On the second evening, the scarlet nightscapes that became commonplace in the past week were obstructed by uneasy clouds. These clouds went on forever and some sailors even swore they took up the shapes of malicious beasts. As night transitioned into an overcast day, so did the first raindrops. 13[sup]th[/sup] of Sun's Height saw precipitation increase until a downpour soaked ship decks that evening. Wind picked up pace, Kyne's mercy transformed into her fury, arousing the most aggressive waves against ship hulls that suddenly seemed paper thin. It was also the same time when the volunteer ship was forced to turn back. Sure, its fresh deckhands all felt so eager two days prior. But as the first plank came loose and jets of water blasted in, those daydreaming for a glorious quest quickly grasped the grim nature of their mission. All of a sudden, nothing was glamorous anymore. Even so, the other three pressed on. With more than half of the journey already passed, the final leg of roughly one-third total distance could afford some slowdowns. Higher waves on the third day rocked the ships back and forth, thus shoving them on and off of their original course. Some seawater splashed onto the decks and those not yet accustomed to lives at sea endured stomach acrobatics. When winds subsided slightly that afternoon, the ships gathered closer and discussed the possibility of dropping anchor. The coast turned jagged and small icebergs dotted the waters. For all intents and purposes, this is the middle of nowhere. There were no worthy coves to moor, not to mention, the chances of being caught off guard by Kamal ironclads were more than enough to put any sensible captain away. So for three nights straight the ships sailed. Some came to regret going forward, as on this particular evening, the storms came back exponentially turbulent. In fact, the winds and waves were so high that the Thane's vessel nearly capsized. Finally, the long-awaited destination came in sight on the fourth day. To be precise, the college came in viewing distance on the afternoon of Sun's Height 14. Earlier in the morning, the calamity that kept most sailors awake withdrew for the time being. This vacillating weather pattern led to believes that certain daedric forces were toying with the sailors; the unfortunate pieces in a twisted game. However, decent weather stayed past noon. The clouds even tempted dispersion when some spotted familiar coastlines. Winterhold was no more. One might recall serrated cliffs steps from Winterhold's boundaries; reminders of what used to be a prosperous city. Now, similar cliffs invaded further inland. Verges currently stood a large crop field inward. No significant buildings remained on safe areas, and shattered wooden frames could be seen buried in the fresh landslide or floating out at sea. For unknown reasons (presumably connected to the collapse), sea level rose higher. The previous coastlines lay under the depth of several men, and the space of the old town now serves as a rock-littered beach. The marble bridge that used to connect the college and the town now laid in shambles, obstructing the very gorge it used to tower over. As if the princes' laughter synchronized on everybody's terrifying realizations, lightning and thunder manifested overhead. Without warning, gusts of wind blew easterly. The storms were coming back, or so the captains agreed on. There was no time to marvel at the destruction, because it would soon be impossible to approach the college safely. Quickly, the hidden entrance was identified at the north-east portion of the college foundation. A tiny cave, probably passed for another crevice if not for specific instructions the steward wrote on navigation charts. The hidden cave was partially flooded, which meant it could only be entered via rowboats or swimmers. “Launch the boats!” The EEC captain announced. A pair of canoes dropped from the nibenay carrack, followed by another rowboat from the Thane's longboat. But when it comes time for [i]The Courtesan[/i], not everyone got to leave. Roughly ten people at most could fit in the dinghies, and the rest had to stay behind and man the vessel. In addition, the spotter on watch found a fire eastwards down the coast. Someone, or something was stranded over there, and [i]The Courtesan[/i] would do well to investigate. [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/w0XWwEk.png[/img][/center] How did everyone do? First of all, not every single member of the company went. As mentioned before; Ashav, Edith and Daelin remained behind to plan ahead. Of course, Dough-Boy wasn't going anywhere either, as he was mandated to keep by his boss' side. Madura wanted to go, but Ashav insisted otherwise. The journalist wished to cover this rescue operation, but as far as Ashav cared, Madura can keep on wishing. A cramped ship possibly ferrying further occupants hold no place for an observer. Lastly, Ander was gone before any headcounts on the 11th. He was with company when they entered Dawnstar, but nowhere in sight afterward. However, Ander did leave Lodevemar's drafts with Ashav. Dumhuvud, as expected, did not get along well with anyone. For the most part, he commandeered a semi-enclosed portion of the galley and sealed himself within. In other times, he acted in his signature acrimony. In particular, Dumhuvud scolded S'riracha, saying the Khajiit was nothing more than a crook, a robbery waiting to happen. S'riracha did take a stand, but when he and the Cat-Kicker nearly came to a brawl on the third night, S'riracha simply walked away with a smirk. It was highly unusual of the "spicy" personality the caravan spoke of S'riracha. Ariane opened up ever so slightly. She initially demanded proper living quarters, whether that be a private room, a soft bed or even a tolerable bedroll, Ariane would take anything over the hammocks. Whatever captain Atgeir gave her, she eventually settled down. She would respond to conversations when dining together. Albeit awkwardly, Ariane would briefly talk of her mysticism training at the College of Whispers and ask about lives outside of academic institutions. When seeing Winterhold for the first time, Ariane's reaction was relief. “Glad it wasn't the mages.” She sighed. Orakh was a rough character, but he was exponentially more approachable than Dumhuvud. One would expect him to be bitter against Trius, who he had came into conflict in Windhelm. But when the veteran Orc heard Trius enlisted with the company temporarily, and that the Dunmer needed funds to escape troubles in Morrowind, he actually took an understanding tone. Orakh would exchange apologies with Trius, and over salty-tasting rums, the two would become something like friends. However, Orakh didn't get along with Farid at all. The Redguard was everything Orakh hated; cocky, self-absorbed, and grudgingly, very good at pointing out others' weaknesses. In a half-drunken rent about his surname, a relic from his chieftain days, Farid would swoop in mock. A fist fight then erupted; it took four people to break them up. Keegan, on the other hand, had plenty of his own problems to deal with. In short, he hated ships. The worn out hammocks fit poorly to his frame, so he chose a stack of hay instead. This sleeping arrangement was too much like his stowaway from Alinor. That part of his past came knocking in his dreams. Even in the calm nights, Keegan got little sleep. His dreams were filled with running, sweating and the blood-curling screams of strangers and himself. Stumbling topside, Keegan would lean over the side, puke out his guts and somehow feeling worse afterward. The third day got so bad that he vomited more time than he could count. His face was a ghostly white, and bloodshot eyes pleading, but unable to find closure. He begged captain Atgeir, the crew and any others skilled in healing for remedies. Those remedies never did work as told, and in the end, Keegan suspected he fell asleep because he lost consciousness. [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/w0XWwEk.png[/img][/center] So here we are, two dinghies about to be set. Farid and Ariane already hopped onto the first, while Keegan and S'riracha were loading climbing gears and emergency supplies onto the second. Dumhuvud and Orakh's staying with boat, and so was Trius.