[LOG] In Which Gerard Leads An Expedition to Minos

[cyrus_rta]

Setting: The seas of Minos
Dramatis Personae: Gerard, Taine, Petrus, Mostyn, Sol, Cyrus, and special guest star: Captain Anders Peril!

This is a scene which took place back in December but never got posted. Think of it as Road to Amber Classic Rock!



Mostyn staggers a half-step beneath the clap. "I only just arrived," he says. "By the time I saw anything--well, I didn't see the enemy, unfortunately."

Nearby are the Storm Witch and the other ships of the expeditionary force.

The Coda has recently arrived, with Mostyn disembarking before Cyrus and Taine.

Paku gives Gerard a thoughtful glance and then, as M'buke delicately clears his throat and nods at the approaching Minosian ship, nods. "Back to work, men of Paradise! Resplendent Paku thanks you for your bravery and will reward you with GLORIOUS RUM later." That gets a bit of spark in the sailors as they return to their posts.

Petrus watches things transpire from the deck of the Bird of Paradise, and has some low conversation with one of it's crewman, M'buke. He offers the man his own hip-flask at some point, in response to the one he had offered Petrus earlier.

M'buke takes it and nods his silent thanks before taking a sip. He considers, then smiles, and offers the flask back to Petrus. He turns, then, to direct the sailors at their tasks.

Once the sailors are some distance away, Paku turns to the party from Amber and says, simply and frankly, "Do you want to meet them on your ship or mine?" He points at the ship from Minos.

Gerard considers. "Let's meet them on the Storm Witch."

Cyrus says to Taine, "You're with me." He points to a boat lashed to the side of The Coda. He then says, "Bo'sun! Get my ship over to the Albatross and rescue her men!"

Cyrus and Taine row toward the Sea Witch.

Soon enough, everyone is on the Storm Witch, including Paku. The ship from Minos runs up a white flag of diplomacy as it draws close. "Ahoy!" comes the call.

Sol is settled someplace where she might rest watch the goings on. Her hair has been tied up, though it's still stained by blood.

Having been handling the watch with the helmsman on the turns, Taine offers Cyrus a nod, has a brief word with the helmsman about standing watch, and then descends into the small boat. As he boards the Storm Witch, he looks at the unfamiliar faces, and then back towards Cyrus. He defers to the captain, though, simply murmuring something quietly to him and hanging a little behind.

On the prow of the approaching ship stands a dashing man, with coal black hair and the devil's smile. He doffs his hat and waves it. "Ahoy there, Captain-Prince Danger and the sea dogs of Amber! Welcome to Minos!" If he manages to spot Sol or Ithunn, they'll earn a wink, even at this distance.

Taine mutters to Cyrus, "That fellow there, the one that's trying to look like me... there's something off, Cap."

Cyrus nods to Taine and makes a 'keep your eye on him' gesture towards Paku. He then looks to the Sea Witch with an expression that combines dread and anticipation. "Peril," he mutters.

Gerard calls back his greeting and calls, "Come on aboard, Cap'n." The dashing fellow tucks his hat under one arm and loops his other arm around a coil of rope. He swings over to the Storm Witch and laughs. "Is that Cyrus Stormcrow I see? I should have guessed, with all the carnage."

Sol looks content to sit and observe, half her tunic sacrificed as a makeshift bandage though the wound doesn't seem so grevious she is pale and wane. At the mention of carnage her pale lips curve upwards. Somewhere she's collected a flask and nurses it slowly.

Cyrus shouts up to the Minosian, "What's that? I can't hear you from this distance. You're here to pick up the *garbage*?"

The rake lands lightly on the deck and grins. "Well, I've clearly come to the right place for it, if I am, eh?" He sweeps his hat into his hand and bows. "Cap'n Peril at your service." Setting tricorn back on his head, he adds, "I had just gotten into port when we heard about the mess. Commodore sent me and the Widow over to see what's what."

Taine gives Paku a careful gaze, his face a studied blank. He gazes past him at Gerard, who seems to be familiar with Cyrus, and smiles slightly at the comment from his captain, before looking back towards Paku, watching him and remaining a quiet, deliberate presence nearby Captain Chantris. He looks a little perplexed or curious about something, though he doesn't voice his concerns.

Gerard nods and looks to the boarding party and Paku. "Well, what is what, then. That's the question, isn't it."

Paku, noticing Taine, blanches slightly and stands so as to keep some distance between the Sukhoti and himself. He poses with arms akimbo, never content to simply be.

Sol lifts her head at the inquiry, "On the Bird of Paradise? Undead. Looked to be sailors lost at sea, water-logged and foul." She reports.

Gerard looks at Sol, surprise overwhelming any other sentiment he might be inclined to have. "Undead? You're not joking?"

Mostyn stands as still as he can at the edge of the group, attention more on the Minos ship than anyone speaking.

Paku nods. "Beloved Phoenix speaks only truth, for how could the daughter of sun utter a lie?" He shakes his head with the express intent of making his earrings jangle. "Most resplendent Paku was sailing to Cameron as instructed to pick up supplies when the Paradise fleet was viciously attacked by the drowned sailors of ... hell."

Cyrus grimaces and looks from Taine to Gerard, a dark memory playing out behind his eyes.

Sol nods once, "Undead, possessed by some unholy aura. I have seen accounts of the same, in Kitezh, and Arden. In truth, it was not the worst I have seen. There are constructs of dead beast, man, and steel just outside of Arden which slowed the progress of Amber's forces to Begma."

Taine listens to the conversation, but still stares at Paku, that curious look still on his face. He looks towards Cyrus at the turn of the conversation, offering a sympathetic sort of grimace, but remaining wordless.

Captain Peril sighs and nods. "I was afraid of that. The Black Fleet. It's been plaguing us, hitting our shipping routes and then just when we try to fight back, it sails off into the night."

Gerard grimaces then peers at Sol. "I - see." He rubs his jaw. "Well, that gets us a good way on the scouting part of the mission."

Mostyn glances towards Gerard at mention of scouting, abruptly more nervous than focused.

Paku brightly declares, "Well, resplendent Paku has supplies to deliver and ships to tend to. So, the Paradise fleet wishes you the best of luck in your endeavors against the drowned men. It has been a pleasure allowing you to bask in Paku's reflected glory."

Sol adds, "There have been cases of those wounded or slain by minions of the Road likewise succumbing to the dark influence. You may wish to suggest clergy, or the blessed of this land, accompany any who are to address the threat. Blessings, thusfar, have proving effecting in purging poison or taint from the road."

Cyrus mentions, "Fire works, too."

Cap'n Peril looks at Sol a little oddly. "The blessed of this land, fair lady?" He grins crookedly. "There are none blessed of the land, only blessed of the sea. And every captain's one of those." He nods to Cyrus, "But the bastards have their own black fire it seems. It's been bad, ever since the lighthouse showed up."

Paku, noticing that attention has slipped off him, hurriedly makes his way off the Storm Witch.

Cyrus raises a brow at Peril, "Lighthouse?" He notices Paku making tracks and chuckles as he smirks at Taine.

Sol smiles to Cyrus, "Fire is very effective, yes, but the prescribed remedy for those who are wounded is blessing." She nods to the Captain, "Then perhaps each captain may have some tool against this thing, something not yet realized." She pauses and frowns and echos Cyrus, "Lighthouse?"

Peril nods and gestures vaguely to the east. "The unnamed islands east of Cameron. There's an old lighthouse there, built back before Stormalog's war. Been ruined for centuries. Then one day it came to life, but its beacon was black - shed a beam as dark as night."

To Taine, Cyrus says, "Paku's mostly harmless. I have no idea what he's playing at."

Taine stares after Paku, blinking for a moment and murmuring something back to Cyrus. His hand moves to the club at his belt, and he raises his brows in indication, as if giving Cyrus a choice about something.

Taine says to Cyrus, "Want me to follow? Or do you trust him enough to leave him be for the moment?"

Gerard shakes his head. "Black light. I hate this sort of nonsense, you know. All right, so this lighthouse is your problem. Easy enough, we sail up and rip the bloody thing apart."

Cyrus shakes his head slowly in response to Taine. He says quietly, "He'll wait."

Sol smiles wearily to Gerard, "My fire is at your beck and call." which must translate to 'count me in'.

Peril shakes his head. "All respect, Cap'n Danger, but you think we didn't try that." His grin is rueful, tragic for all its sharp-edged charm. "Lighthouse is meant to lead you safe to shore. This light, the black light, it drives sailors mad, leaves their ships dashed against the rocks. And the next night, the Black Fleet gains another crewed ship."

Cyrus sighs, "I thought the port looked quiet."

Taine nods slowly at Cyrus and drops his hand from the club, shaking his head a little condemningly after Paku's retreating form. He turns his attention back towards the conversation, listening in again. He's good at being an observer, and that's what he does for right now, frowning at Peril's explanation about the black light and casting a glance back at the Coda, as if to make sure it hasn't come to an equal fate.

Paku is an ever diminishing figure who eventually reaches the Bird of Paradise and clambers aboard. To his credit, he does seem to be dealing with tending to his crew and the disabled Magnificent Albatross.

Petrus looks increasingly unhappy with the general general tone of stuff he's hearing, and but he's otherwise just been real quiet and attentive through this whole conversation.

Anders, for that's Cap'n Peril's first name, leans against something convenient and smirks. "But don't worry. It gets worse."

Cyrus nods, "Of course it does. Do go on."

Sol looks to Gerard, "I can offer a blessing of protection to a crew. Or, a single person if you require validation that such a ward would infact protect one from the evil influence." She looks to the Captain and falls silent.

Petrus raises an eyebrow slowly at Sol.

Gerard glances at Sol. He pauses, then nods. Grateful, and strangely gentle, he says, "That would be a great help, if you could. Thank you."

Anders laughs. "You can start with me, witch, if you'd like. I'll take all the blessings you're willing to give." He grins, and adds to his previous ominous statement, "They're building a bridge."

Sol looks at Petrus and offers a wry smile.

Cyrus asks, "Dare I ask what they're building it out of?"

Anders pulls a flask from his coat, takes a sip then offers it around. "The stones the light touches turn black as a witch's arsehole. They're building it out of that - with guts and bone for mortar."

Sol wrinkles her nose and mutters something under her breath.

Petrus mutters something along the lines of 'interesting construction'. No flask for him, though.

Cyrus turns to Taine, "I should know better than to ask these things."

The Widow, Anders' ship, is a beautiful, sleek vessel quite similar in shape and construction to the Coda, actually. Her figurehead is a veiled woman with a cruel smile.

Taine remains silent, watching the flask as it starts to go round. His arms are folded, and he gives Paku another distrustful glance, just checking up to make sure that the fellow is still doing as he said he would do - the very definition of a short leash, as it were. Other than that, he's content to defer to the conversation. Cyrus' preamble brings a quick, "Aye, sir?" though.

Cyrus mutters, "Guts and bone for mortar..." He sighs and looks to Capt. Peril for the rest of the story.

Anders nods. "So, yeah, the port's pretty empty. We've lost a lot of ships and a lot of captains are afraid to take their fleets out. Which means money's drying up. Which means food's running scarce."

Anders adds, "And if that bridge reaches Cameron, well, she won't be the only widow." He nods at his ship.

Sol looks to Gerard, watching the Prince closely as all of this is revealed.

Gerard mutters a curse under his breath. "So, we've got a lighthouse. We've got a bridge. We've got some cursed black fleet. But we can't get the fleet close enough to the damn thing to do anything about it."

Gerard rubs the bridge of his nose. "Suggestions?"

Sol wonders, "IS the light's maddening effect the only reason, or is there some reason more?"

Anders replies, "Just the madness, fair witch. But that's enough, no?"

Sol says, "I can ward off the madness. If it must be expedient, of only a few. If it might wait a course of days, more. It would take time for me to ward an entire fleet."

Gerard scratches his jaw, looks at Cyrus, then at Sol. "How about just one ship?"

Mostyn asks, hesitantly, "How far does the, um, black light extend? Only above the water, or down below as well?"

Anders looks to Mostyn to answer, "Why wo-" and then looks again. "Oh." He chews on his lip. "Just above the water."
Anders shrugs, "Far as I know. Rebman."

Petrus chuckles. "One ship, or an underwater march?" he muses. "Either one sounds pretty damn surprising."

Sol considers, "One ship, depends on the number going." She rises wearily and winces as the motion tugs her fresh wound. She approaches Gerard cautiously and notes as she does, "Well, the undead were taken from the depths, the ones I slayed were no recent lost sailors. I would wager it may be below. Eitherway, I could offer protection." She pauses and looks up at Gerard meaningfully.

Gerard looks at Sol, sighs, and nods. "Continue the discussion, I'll be right back." He leads Sol to a more private spot.

Cyrus smirks towards Petrus, "Indeed."

Anders grins, sharply. "What do you know, your boyfriend's more than just a pretty face, Storm. Nice ink."

Cyrus chuckles, "Well, he's not from Minos so he's got an advantage in the brains department."

Taine doesn't rise to the bait. "Thank you," he tells Anders mildly, lapsing into silence again, although he does have to bite his lip to hide a smile at Cyrus' words.

Anders laughs, satisfied. He sobers, a few moments later. "If we don't do something about the lighthouse soon, he'll have the advantage in the living department, too."

Cyrus nods, "You said it was falling apart? Have they shored it up or could we just knock the damn thing over?"

Anders pulls out a pipe and sets to filling it from a leather tobacco pouch. "Never gotten close enough to find out. It's just started, at the least. Easier to knock over an unfinished bridge than one all set and done, I reckon."

Petrus muses, "The tower makes more stones, though, it sounds like. Or did I mishear? Both bridge and tower all stone, or is either supported by something we can burn?"

Anders tugs at his goatee thoughtfully. "Probably some wood supports going into the water. Digging up stones is hard work, and we've got plenty of wood. Good wood."

Cyrus raises a brow at that. "The Coda's still got arrows that can be lit. Along with a few surprises I have left over from the marine landing."

Anders nods. "We haven't gotten close enough, but if you can, it might work. If your men shoot better than you sail, at least." Again that grin, sharp.

Taine nods along with Cyrus to confirm his words. "I can get cargo ready, Cap. Just tell me what you need. I'll grab a half-dozen of the men and get them - " He lifts a brow at Anders, and tosses Cyrus a quick glance, as if to ensure the captain doesn't go off half-cocked.

Petrus laughs at the quip.

Cyrus says, "Well, they shoot better than you dress, Peril, so it should work out fine."

Anders laughs and tucks his lit pipe between his teeth. "I'll see you in port. I'm going to head back and tell my grandfather to expect you."
Anders hops up to the railing. "After all, anything done better than my wardrobe must be truly legendary." And with that, a rope's tossed over from the Widow, which he catches and uses to swing back to his ship.

Gerard returns, along with Sol. "So, any conclusions?"

Once the Minosian is gone, Cyrus nods to his first mate. "That's good, Taine." Then to Gerard, "We have a plan, Admiral. It consists of two parts." He holds up a single finger, "Burn the bridge." Then a second, "Knock over the lighthouse." He smiles.

Mostyn says, "Straightforward, that."

Petrus chuckles quietly, almost coughing.

Sol tilts her head curiously, "How are you going to knock over the lighthouse?"

Gerard purses his lips. "Nice and simple. I like that. But Sol's got a good question."

Cyrus replies, "With something heavy, of course. Anybody got anything like that handy?"

Taine suggests, "Paku," beneath his breath.

Cyrus snorts

Sol replies innocently, "Just Gerard." her face remains straight.

Gerard snorts, amused. "All right. So, let's expand this out a bit. We're going in on the Coda. We've got to get past that black fleet that's anchored there. Sounds to me like taking out the bridge first is the way to go."
Gerard says, "And then the lighthouse. Is that about right?"

Cyrus nods. "Yes, sir. And I'm nearly serious about the hitting it with something heavy. If we had a ship no one was concerned about keeping intact..."

Mostyn glances over at Anders' ship, and carefully says nothing.

Gerard looks thoughtful. "Depends on how close to the shore the lighthouse is. Even I can't heft a ship, carry it up a cliff and slam it into a lighthouse."

Taine tosses Cyrus a look. "The men should be informed as to what we're doing," he replies. "Something like this, we want only people who are secure with it, otherwise the ship is crewed by people who may not be willing, and it sounds like we can't risk that. Skeleton crew, pardon the pun." He pauses. "Permission to inform?"

Sol chuckles softly for some reason. She sobers and turns her attention to Taine.

"Granted," Cyrus says to Taine. Then to Gerard, "If the house is close enough, we could ram what's left of the Albatross into it. If not, well, I don't carry explosives as a rule."

Gerard looks at the Widow, thoughtfully. "I wonder if we could borrow a - but we'd need to get into port to ask for one of those."
Gerard says, "Albatross does seem the prime candidate for that."

Petrus asks, "How are you going to get the ship to the lighthouse? Fight through a small fleet of those black ships? Not that that's not a fine option."

Gerard nods. "We could tow it in, I suppose, but that'd slow the Coda down."

Gerard says, "You know, end of the day, we need to know more about what that island is like."

Sol says, "A scouting mission?"

"Send someone up to the lighthouse on the land, maybe, if there's a safe harbor a ways down from it. Small group. Six, ten, twelve. That way we have the advantage of surprise from both sides," Taine volunteers. "Have them plot out the island. Later, dual attack, using both the ship and the land crew. Smaller explosives, handheld. Plant and run. Get her - " A finger pokes towards Sol, " - to make the party invisible or some such." He shrugs, adding, "Though I could be misunderstanding the logistics of it."

Gerard looks at Mostyn, thoughtfully. "A scouting mission."
Gerard says, "Lighthouse is on its own island, from what Cap'n Peril says, which means getting on land will be tricky. But not impossible."

Cyrus says, "And we'd have plenty of time to tow the Albatross in and maybe make a few repairs to her while the sneaking about is going on."

Mostyn turns paler at Gerard's look, though it's hard to tell on him.

Gerard nods. "All right. Let's get into Cameron, then, and get the Albatross fixed up." He looks to Mostyn. "I think I'm going to have to throw you in to swim with sharks, my boy," he says with some kindness.

Sol smiles to Taine, "I'm afraid I'm no witch or sorceroress. I cannot render you inviseable, even if I could the magic may well make you more obvious than to in plain sight. I also will not be accompanying, being wounded from a previous battle."

Mostyn says, quietly, "Sharks I know how to deal with, your Highness. Other creatures, less so."

Petrus muses, "Disguise is always a possibilty. Dress a ship up like one of theirs. Men, too."

Cyrus nods to Petrus, "Not bad. We'd only have to be convincing from a distance."

Sol tilts her head to Petrus, "could you...?" she wonders.

Taine murmurs something vaguely regarding hiding below decks, concluding, "If I didn't fit in in Amber City..." while trailing off dubiously.

Petrus shakes his head at Sol. "Not really."

Cyrus smirks and says to Taine, "You'll have a hard time being Captain from below decks."

Gerard nods and steps forward to lay a hand on Mostyn's shoulder. "I know. But we have to know what we're getting into, what that island looks like." He looks at Mostyn, steadily. "I won't make you go, son, but I'm asking. It'd be a great help."

Sol smiles to Mostyn, "I could ward you from the unholy influences, but it would not protect you from the minions of this abomination."

Taine ahs slowly. "Point taken," he replies easily to Cyrus. He suggests quite dryly to Mostyn, "At least it's not a dancing competition?" as if somehow that is supposed to help the young Rebman.

Mostyn tries to stand straighter. "I had fair warning of this possibility, your Highness." He is not entirely successful in sounding sure as he says this. He frowns at Taine, but continues, "I'll do what you believe would be most useful."

Gerard nods. "Bravely said, son. That's the way." He clasps Mostyn's shoulder. "All right. Night's fallen, so we'll head in to port. Do you need to prepare, Mostyn? Or do we let you off here?"

Taine tosses Mostyn an apologetic little frown, coughing and murmuring a quiet, "Sorry," to the young fellow. He finds a spot that is distinctly not Mostyn to stare at, looking a little embarrassed at what appears to have been a bit of a miscue.

Sol glances between Gerard and Mostyn, standing by in the event Mostyn is diverging right away.

Mostyn says, after a moment's thought, "I will need some way of finding this lighthouse, and finding this ship again afterward. I am unfamiliar with these currents. And any instructions you might have on what I ought to look for would be helpful. Your Highness."

Gerard nods. "Let's get in to town then and get some direction." He calls out instructions to Artos and the other captains. The fleet begins heading into port.

Cyrus looks puzzled but finally says, "I'd better go get my ships. Mr. Mira, The Coda's yours. Split up the men as you see fit. We'll hammer out the details as we row back."

Sol smiles to Mostyn, "You should see me before you go about your task."

Petrus sniffs, watching the exchange.

Sol gives Petrus a curious glance, eyebrows lifting.

Mostyn nods to Sol. "As you say." One hand touches the edge of the spear at his back, as if for reassurance.

Taine offers Cyrus a crisp salute. "Aye." He frowns at Mostyn some more, but it vanishes in a few moments, anyway. Whatever he must have said does not get voiced. He busies himself glancing suspiciously after his newfound friend, Paku. Where did that fellow go anyway? He seems suddenly invested in finding out.

Sol moves to Petrus and murmurs lowly.

Petrus looks at Sol and mutters back to her, it doesn't sound like he's saying anything pleasant.

Sol offers Petrus a warm smile.
Sol laughs softly in surprise.

Taine sets the second mate to the task of supervising the repairs to the Albatross, going about splitting up Cyrus' men amongst the ships. He is open with the men about what they're getting into, willing to relegate those struck with a sudden and deleterious case of nerves to mere advisory and support roles. Since the Coda is presumably the best ship and was the one mentioned to go in first, it's slightly better-manned than the other two, but he does his best to put a few gunners on the others as well, just in case something should come up thereupon. In the end, he achieves a fair-to-decent balance amongst the ships, slightly favoring the Coda. That task done, he signs something across the ships to Cyrus in semaphore code.

It's obvious that it's going to take a lot of work to make The Albatross seaworthy again. Cyrus and a fraction of his crew scurry about her deck making the best of a bad situation. The Albatross is an exercise in extreme improvisation and ingenuity. But will she sail? Cyrus mans the flags himself to reply to Taine.

Sol blinks in surprise and frowns as Petrus shuffles away. She sighs softly and makes herself busy preparing the fearless heros to face the perils of the Black road but bestowing a blessing upon each.

Taine raises a single flag in reply and then goes about the business of standing watch. That involves checking the navigation orders and going over the mission with need-to-know officers. He sets the bos'un to check the riggings and the mast, motioning towards the mastless wreckage as a rationale, which seems to readily convince the other man. There's nothing like having a demonstration to spur someone to action. Beyond that, he

Mostyn swings back on board, a dripping pale figure in only his trousers and the spear strapped to his back. He leans over the side of the railing to spit out a mouthful of water, then straightens with a ragged breath as he pulls air back into his lungs again. "Bunch of careless idiots," he mutters to himself. Then he's striding off towards Gerard, pushing damp blue-green hair out of his face.

Gerard comes out of his cabin, gnawing on a bit of food, a tankard in hand. "Glad to see you back safely, lad." He nods to an ohmbudsman. "Send runners to gather the others."

Mostyn shakes his head, water flying about. "They posted no guards at all beneath the water, or even at the pilings of the bridge. Terribly careless of them. Though it looks as if they made up for it above."

Cyrus receives the message and has an intense-looking discussion with the leader of the Albatross's deck crew. He then climbs down to his boat and rows to meet Gerard and Mostyn.

Gerard nods. "Not many think to guard beneath the waters. Not a common source of naval threats, you know." He turns and waits for the others to catch up.

Petrus returns from wherever he was, looking somewhat improved from after getting stuck in the shoulder on the Bird of Paradise.

Mostyn smiles slightly. "In certain waters, I suppose that's true." He holds his report for the arrival of the others.

Sol wearily slumps against a perch, waiting in the event she neglected to ward. Once again she donned her cloak and keeps it's hood drawn to conceal her face. She looks pale and withdrawn, though her lips still are prone to smiles.

Taine keeps the Coda in port until he gets the runner to his ship - or at least, his ship for the time being. With that, he follows Cyrus' lead towards Gerard's ship, turning out of port near the Albatross and moving the Coda swiftly to a more proper place. It comes to a rest at portside, and he stays aboard, waiting for further orders from his superior officer.

Gerard nods, as the others arrive. "Mostyn's made it back and he has news," he rumbles, simply, and then cedes the floor to the Rebman.

Cyrus waves for Taine to join the rest of them around Mostyn.

Mostyn begins, "They haven't set any guards underwater," before stopping short at the visible reminder that this does most of the others no good. He clears his throat, and continues, "The bridge is less than half done, even less than a third, and it's wood pilings down to the sea floor beneath the stone. Sturdy enough that it would take effort to move, but not so stable as a well-built bridge would be. The ground there isn't ideal to support it."

Taine offers a salute and swings on over. He shows up, conveniently enough, just when Mostyn's about to talk, boots hitting the top deck with a scuffling little thunk. His demeanor is solemn, although he half-turns towards the Coda just in case. That is his primary responsibility. He remains silent.

Mostyn says, "There were less than a dozen ships in port; I counted ten from beneath. I couldn't see from below what crewed those, but the mountain they've put the lighthouse on held plenty of inhuman creatures once it broke above the waterline. Flying ones as well, up near the black light, and it's nearly impossible to see that, um, light, when the sky is dark. It might be more visible from above the water, but not very, I'd think."

Gerard goes to make sure Sol is well settled and comfortable after her warding work, while Mostyn debriefs the others.

Cyrus's brow furrows as he listens.

Taine waits for a proper place to interject and asks, "What sort of guns did the ships carry?" looking back towards the Coda pensively, clearly estimating its chances.

Mostyn hesitates a moment. "A half dozen of them had a gun or two each, if I recognize the shape of such things properly. I am not certain what those might look like, especially from below."

Petrus listens carefully. "Maybe a feint on the bridge, somehow, then sneak attack the lighthouse somehow?" he asks, a bit nebulously.

Gerard returns, some time later, from the direction of his cabin, which now has two men posted outside. "So, where are we?"

Mostyn looks back to Gerard. "Guns, I believe. Though I don't think a plan to come at the lighthouse with intent to knock it over will work easily from the sea. It's high on a bluff, well above the water. It would be a climb even to reach its base."

Cyrus nods curtly. "Well, it was worth a shot. We could run the Albatross into the brigde." He has apparently got his heart set on running a ship into *something*.

Gerard says, "That's not a bad idea. It'd be a fast way to deal with the bridge."

Taine nods slowly at Mostyn, seeming to like the Coda's chances, in that case. He looks towards Cyrus, offering him a careful nod of approval of Mostyn's estimate, and then quiets again for a moment or two, pondering something. "I know cliffs," he volunteers. "Te Pari Manawa has cliffs on two of its sides. I can probably get up there quicker than anyone else, if you want a party led up there in the meantime."

Petrus says, "Could buy more time to bring back a bigger force, with a way to take down the tower. Though, they'd have more ships, what with the beam of black light."

Gerard says, "Could we, perhaps, take a shot at just the beacon, damage it in some fashion?"
Gerard says, "A ballista shot from closer range?"
Gerard looks at Taine, curiously. "Or a party scaling the lighthouse."

Mostyn says, "I wasn't able to count the winged creatures flying about the lighthouse. It's...unwise to cede an entire section of the battlefield to an enemy, I think. Those might be trouble for any approach, especially close in to the lighthouse itself."

Cyrus says, "They might not notice a small group."

Gerard says, "All right, here's where my thinking is right now."
Gerard says, "Cyrus, the Albatross is yours to run into the bridge."

Cyrus rubs his hands together perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

Gerard says, "I'll work with Anders to distract the black fleet, perhaps with Mostyn's help. Taine and Petrus, meanwhile, will scale the lighthouse to try to at least damage the beacon."

Gerard rubs his jaw. "Minos has lightning cannons."
Gerard drops that revelation in with a casual tone.

Cyrus smiles, "And they won't shut up about them. Nice to have around though."

Taine looks towards the all too enthusiastic Cyrus. Characteristically, his response is a good deal more moderate. "Permission, sir? I'll leave Elros," the second mate, "in charge of the Coda, if agreed."

Petrus looks mighty uncertain about that scaling thing. "That's true. They do have storm cannons," he agrees. "One fired directly back at the beam?"

Mostyn blinks a few times at Gerard, but remains quiet and damp for the moment.

Gerard says, "I was thinking we'd fire them at the winged things, draw them off the lighthouse."

Cyrus nods to Taine, "You know what to tell him. And be careful climbing that thing. I still owe you money."

"Or women," Taine suggests mildly, before glancing towards Petrus. Dark brows raise, the tattoos dancing with the movement. "We haven't met. Taine Mira. First mate of the Coda. Trust me with this and I'll trust you. Agreed?"

Petrus summarizes, "It sounds like the plan involves climing up a cliff, killing things all the way up a stairway in a tower, hoping we can destroy whatever they got inside, and then, fighting our way back down, climbing back down the cliff, and getting back to the beach?"

Gerard rubs his jaw. "I was thinking more of scaling the outside of the tower under cover of night. Might have more chance that way."

Petrus says, "Ah. That makes a good bit more sense."

Gerard asks Mostyn, "How deep is the water on side where the lighthouse cliff is?"

"Very deep," Mostyn says. "The bluff continues on down in the water for a ways."

Taine frowns at the apparent lack of agreement, flicking his gaze towards Cyrus and then back towards Petrus, evenly.

Gerard says, "So, worse comes to worst, you can dive off the cliff into the ocean."

Gerard grins. "If you're comfortable with a bit of cliff diving."

Petrus says, pointing at Taine, "Lampblack all over cliff-climber over there and I, and I'll join the suicidal bastard. Fall far enough, and your bones'll still break, so they say. Repelling, then jumping?"

Gerard nods. "I'll leave it to you gentlemen. It seems we have a plan."

"If you have to rappel," Taine allows. He eyes the lighthouse carefully, pointing out, "We don't use rope where I'm from," evenly.

Petrus says to Taine, "I'll trust the expert on the matter."
Petrus means Taine, probably.

Gerard nods. "Well, gentlemen, I wish you good luck, then. Into the maw of the beast, we go, and we will emerge victorious. For we are men of Amber, and Sukho and Montevalno and Rebma." He looks to the cabin, where the Kitezhka rest. "And women of Kitezh. Glory is our birthright, one and all, and tonight we will seize it. What say you, gentlemen?"

Cyrus says, "I say we knock some stuff down and blow the rest up, sir!"

Gerard grins. "Indeed. Let's knock some stuff down and blow the rest up. To your posts!"

Petrus says, "This'll be fun."

Taine offers only a slight smile at Gerard's speech, leaving the noise to the people more suited for it. He ties the belt of his kilt a little more formally and securely, checking to make sure that the club is attached to it and then tying his hair a little more tightly, basically trying to streamline himself for climbing as much as possible. He asks Cyrus, "You don't happen to have gloves in your quarters, do you? Anything that would help me get a better grip..." He shrugs lightly and then turns to Petrus, sizing him up openly. "Get rid of whatever you can that'll weigh you down."

Cyrus tosses Taine a pair of gloves he has stuck in his belt. They appear to be the ones he was using to work on the Albatross. "These oughta fit."

Petrus takes that to heart and ditches damn near everything with any weight to it. He keeps a small blade. He gives a pouch that rattles to Gerard. Everything else goes in a pile on the deck; he gets gloves like Taine gets, if he can.

And then the island is sight, the rotting, ruined fleet of ten black ships anchored in the cove. The lighthouse is a black pillar, its beacon only visible when it blots out the stars and moon. And off one side of the island is the short arc of the partially constructed bridge. Gruesome winged shapes cavort in the air around the light of the beacon.

Petrus says toward Taine, at some point, "Petrus Pitello, by the way."

Gerard takes the pouch and tucks it into his coat. "Petrus, Taine, we'll give you ten minutes to get to the island. Then Cyrus starts his charge, and Anders and I will begin the distraction. Mostyn, will you be able to help us from below the waters? We can give you chains to bind their anchors."

Taine looks up towards the flying whatever-they-are and then back towards Petrus. "If you're thinking about getting out, do it now, Mr. Pitello." It's not a challenge, but a serious statement. He looks towards Gerard and nods. "Understood. Ten minutes to get there. Ten more to get into the lighthouse, if it's what it looks like." He seems steady enough in his estimate, perhaps more quiet self-assurance than overconfidence.

Mostyn nods, frowning out at the ships. "I believe I can do that, sir." He adds more quietly, "What I wouldn't give for a handful of Knights right now..."

Cyrus and his crew prepare the Albatross, such as it is, for her voyage.

Taine'd already spoken with the second mate, who is now in reliable charge of the Coda.

Petrus looks to Taine. "Haven't set myself up for a tragic death in a while. Let's do this thing."

Gerard chuckles. "Wouldn't we all, Mostyn. Wouldn't we all." He nods to his men, who bring chains out onto the deck. He lays a hand on Taine's and Petrus's shoulders in turn. "It's on you, now, men." He steps back and has his torchman relay signals to the Widow, anchored nearby.

Taine nods slowly at Petrus' statement, descending into the boat. He picks up one oar, letting Petrus handle the other should he want and prove competent at it. "I'll go first. Follow my lead - grab what I grab, step where I step. Understand?" A pause. "What have you got experience at? Climbed anything before?"

Mostyn picks up a chain to test its weight, with his gaze largely on the ships ahead.

Petrus can row, it seems. "Yes. Masonry, sandstone, granite. Not your kind of experience though, I don't think," he replies. "I'll follow you're lead on this one."

Gerard salutes Cyrus from a distance as the other man preps the Albatross, then moves to supervise the men setting up a borrowed lightning cannon. It's a strange device, made of iron and brass and silver filligree - as much a piece of art as a weapon. It has a socket to one side from which extends a tall iron rod - which currently crackles with electricity.

Cyrus returns the salute and orders the crew to set sail. Everyone aboard the Albatross stumbles to the side as the ship lurches along the waves.

Gerard paces, as he counts down the moments, waiting. Gerard is not a man skilled at waiting. He checks on the cannon about thirty-seven times in the minutes he must give the pair making their way to the lighthouse.

Mostyn wraps a chain around his right arm, then moves to the edge of the ship to drop feet-down into the water.

Taine reaches into his belt for his knife, handing it to the dark-suited fellow. The blade can't properly be called a sword, but it does have some length to it. "Take this. I'll do better with my club alone." He rows easily, seeming adept enough with small craft. Sukhoti as he is, perhaps that's not that surprising. They make quick time over to the island, and he goes about roping one side of the craft to tie it to port, motioning Petrus to get the other side.

Petrus helps secure the boat, then nods to Taine, when he's ready.
Once the alotted time passes, a half dozen points of light suddenly flare into life along the deck of the Storm Witch and then arc into the air at the black fleet. The same occurs, a moment later, from the deck of the Widow. Witch and Widow enter the fray, skimming around Black Ships still anchored.

Cyrus pauses to admire the pyrotechnics and then he barks the orders that will take the Albatross into her final journey.

Mostyn moves briskly underwater, attaching chains to anchors. It's downright comfortable, for however long the lack of enemies about will last him.

Petrus smiles in the darkness at the bottom of the cliff once the lovely pyrotechnics start, though hopefully only Taine is likely to notice that.

Taine and Petrus find the base of the cliff. It is not a smooth thing, with ample handholds. But as they go higher, to the base of the lighthouse, the winds pick up. At this height, the force of the wind is strong, making holding on all the more vital - and all the more difficult. At the top of the lighthouse, a half-dozen winged demons wheel and scream, following the rotation of the beacon. Other than those, there are no guards on this side of the lighthouse.

Taine nods at the pyrotechnics, then leads Petrus over towards the cliff. He's expert enough at climbing, and moves quickly and confidently. Petrus is expected to keep an eye where he's stepping and to follow with what holds he does find without trouble or complaint. As they scale, he doesn't slow down and although the wind whips the messy topknot about and flutters his clothing, he doesn't seem bothered by it, just keeps going up at the same speed, unaware of any difficulty that might present to his partner. Up, up, and away, such as it were.

Petrus no doubt still thinks this is suicide, but follows Taine up as best he's able, critically judging each handhold, planning ahead, and far more often than not, he finds Taine's holds seem to be the right ones for himself..

The black fleet starts to stir, desparately trying to pull their anchors up. But they swiftly find their anchors bound to those of other ships by chains. The first black fleet ship falls to the ballistae and flaming arrows of the Widow. The Storm Witch, meanwhile, dances between the black ships, threading a course to take it close to the lighthouse.

Once Taine pulls ahead, Petrus manages not to muttering to himself, and struggles against the wind, quickly planning for the extra-unpreductable nature of it and pulling his body closer into the wall to reduce the dangerous posed by the unpredictable gusts. He continues up after Taine, not quite so calm as he was on that boat earlier.

Mostyn darts out from between the black ships, still well beneath the surface of the water, back towards the deck with more chains. He surfaces, pulls himself onto the deck, and disappears back into the water with more metal for tangling wrapped about his arm in a fluid motion entirely unlike his usual unease aboard a ship.

Taine shifts from climbing the cliff to climbing the lighthouse, stopping at one point to steady his grip with one hand and hang there a little crazily as his free hand draws his club in preparation for Demons: The Shrieking. At least Petrus has a chance to rest for a moment. He redoubles his efforts and, club in hand, climbs further upwards. At least the club has the side effect of slowing him down enough to make it a little easier on Petrus, even if he doesn't seem cognisant of that.

As the two men near the top of the lighthouse, the beacon across their path. Suddenly, the winged figures are nearby, shrieking their unholy indignation. And in the moment before they dive to skewer the climbers on wicked talons, there is an actinic flash and the explosive rumble of thunder. The smell of ozone fills the air as a lightning bolt arcs from the Widow and smashes against the side of the lighthouse. One demon is hit full on and tumbles smoking to the cruel rocks below. The demons wheel in confusion before a second lightning bolt arcs out to illuminate the lighthouse in stark relief - this time from the Storm witch. With a shriek, all but one of the demons go tearing after the two ships. The one remaining, pulls some distance away and -smiles- at the two climbers.

The Albatross barrells through the confused and stymied black fleet towards the bridge. Cyrus has neither the time nor the inclination for anything fancy, he just concentrates on maintaining a collision course for the grisly construction project ahead. The crew, on the other hand, concentrates on keeping the sails full which for half of them involves standing in for the missing main mast.

Cyrus gives a signal and the men begin to abandon ship. The captain is the last one aboard. He ties a rope to the wheel, locking it in position and he dives overboard just as the Albatross crashes into the bridge knocking a hole in the stonework. As the ship sinks, she takes about a third of the bridge down with her and the remainder looks far less stable.

The two climbers are at the top of the lighthouse now, and can clamber into the beacon room. But the demon is diving at them even as they come to their destination, black ichor dripping from its gaping maw, moonlight reflected silver on its gleaming black talons.

Petrus grits his teeth, instantly realizing the rather unfortunate nature of the predicament of a flying demon diving at the climbers, and tries to scamper faster up the ledge against a rapidly closing deadline, favoring the fast holds over the safe ones. It's either reach the goal or get skewered. Petrus just hopes he clears the ledge in time.

Taine dangles there pretty uselessly as the demons gather, blinking in surprise as at least one of them is neatly taken out. He glances down as Petrus starts to climb and moves quickly to get out of Petrus' way, trying to ignore the smiling demon uncomfortably close. On they go, and since he's the top climber, he does his level best to get out of Petrus' way and, if necessary, grab the other man or help him up as demanded. His club is still out to beat on demons should they dive towards them, of course.

The demon streaks through the air, a bolt of black that screams defiance as it runs into the whirling stick of the Coda's Sukhoti first mate. Petrus, meanwhile, dives through and into the beacon room. He slashes at the beacon itself to no avail but swiftly opts to aim at the mechanism that turns it. Shadows gather and sharpen around him, darting and diving with each of his blows to add their own slashes to blows he strikes against the rotation device. Meanwhile, Taine fights desperately against the demon but the creature scores a vicious blow, tearing gaping gashes across the Sukhoti's shoulder and leaving him teetering precariously on the ledge. The demon dives in to engage Petrus.

Petrus turns to meet the demon with a shout, more of those sharp shadowy wisps and his loaned knife trace through the air; hopefully, he'll figure out how to take the bastard down.
On the waters below, Gerard and Anders do their work, heavily damaging several of the ships before they're forced to back up and regroup. Mostyn's work on the chains and anchors has all but crippled the Black Fleet, rendering them unable to engage effectively. Stones continue to tumble into the water, meanwhile, from the crumbling bridge.

Taine offers a token blow with the club held in his unwounded arm as the demon streaks off after Petrus, but it meets with only air. His feet give way, sending stones skidding down into the water, and he almost follows after them. He manages to shoot an arm and a leg out though and catch himself alertly against the rock with a grunt of effort, clinging there and shifting for purchase. "Come back here, you overgrown bat! Fight like a man!" he calls out once he's recovered from having the wind knocked halfway out of him. "Or like a demon - whichever!" He hangs there, watching, waiting for Petrus.

Cyrus and several of his crewmen float past the wreck of a black ship. They are clinging to a large piece of the Albatross. Every now and then, one of the sailors will pick up a piece of flotsam and hurl it towards an enemy vessel. The men begin passing a bottle around.

The Widow swings wide of the fleet and comes around, loosing another follow of flaming arrows before approaching the flotsam and the sailors attached to it. Cap'n Anders Peril leans over the side and calls, "Why, Cap'n Storm, you seem to have lost your ship. Care for a ride?"

Cyrus replies, "Well, that thing you're in is something of a downgrade after this chunk of wreckage but I suppose we'll accept your offer." He begins seeing to the transfer of his men onto the Widow and once he's aboard he shares the remainder of the bottle with Anders.

Petrus emerges after an all-too-long exchange filled with demon shrieks and odd scraping sounds, and some wet sounds that are clearly human. Petrus peeks out over the ledge down at Taine; to his relief he's still there; but the guards are coming right behind Petrus up the stairs; he doesn't even have time to complete the job on the mechanism; it's descend or die and hope what was done will last. Petrus swings back over the ledge and starts on the way down, bleeding from puncture wounds on his arms, back, legs, and a nasty laceration on the scalp. More worrisome, his boots and hands are somewhat slippery from demon ichor and his own blood.

Gerard, meanwhile, signals Mostyn aboard when next he surfaces and, once the Rebman is safe on the Storm Witch, swings around to pick up the away team once they get down to the water.

Mostyn clings to the railing as the ship swings about. Water is simple enough to deal with, but keeping his footing on a moving ship? Another matter entirely.

Anders snorts as he accepts the bottle. "Just try not to let your men see you weep when you find yourself off the Widow and back on that heap you call the Coda." He smiles, then, and it is not his usual, ironic expression. "That was brilliantly done, Stormcrow. Brilliantly done."

Taine nods to Petrus and begins descending the cliff a few steps. He grimaces at the pain in his shoulder but keeps going. Petrus' wounds, unsurprisingly, aren't commented upon. Whatever thoughts he might have about them are kept to himself. "Did you get it done?" he wants to know, matching Petrus' descent speed as best he can. "I hope you didn't have to leave my knife stuck in one of those things."

Petrus hisses at Taine, "Down! Forget the knife; the guards come. It's done, as best we can. Hurry down."

Cyrus takes a pull off the rum and says to Anders, "Weep with joy, you mean." Then he winks and says, "Not so bad yourself, Captain."

Taine considers jumping for it, eyeing the water. The sudden presence of Gerard's ship nearby brings a nod and, since it's close enough now, he lets himself neatly jackknife for the ground below, landing a little crazily but none the worse for wear. But where is Petrus?

Gerard waits, impatiently, for the men to descend. "Come on, dammit, come on." He squints at the cliff face, archers aligned to cover the retreat.

Petrus has clearly follows his own advice, but luck wasn't with him; he started slipping, and rather than a controlled fall, he has a messy one where he hits a few jutting stones on the tower on the way; things are broken before he hits water after Taine. Somehow, though, he makes it into the rowboat, a mess. "Row," he croaks.

Archers send their arrows clattering against the lighthouse wall as the two rwo their way to the Storm Witch. Guards respond from atop the lighthouse but neither side can really usefully strike the other. Soon, ropes are lowered and the men are brought aboard.