As You Command IC

[MrAbdiel]

Lamorak is lining up another blow before Maiabel succeeds in the severance; and having denied the enemy their spiteful act, the Lord Protector and his advisors have accomplished all they can. With the sound of the pirate's hooks clattering on to the upper deck to pull the flagship alongside, the conflict is over; and Typho picks up the battered chest with a delicate application of his jaws as his master gives a loose handsignal to return to the flagship's forecastle.

* * * * *

The battered chest lies on the deck between them; with the prisoner below deck and the pirates scuttling about making their temporary repair effort keeping them occupied enough that even in the open air of the forecastle the retinue has a few moments of privacy.

"The ship is badly damaged. Several of the enemy escaped. But when your advanced assault on the vessel yielded new battlefield factors, you adapted autonomously and repelled them. Even denied them a single act of spite." He gives the chest a little kick, and removes the horned helm covering his face to permit the sea air to start drying his sea-soaked countenance. "I'm pleased. I'm not sure the outcome could have been any better."

[Darius Vibrtrar]

Sharkan stands at attention for his lord, standing to present the chest as a prize.

"My lord, with great effort, and the... assistance of a sole member of this ships previous crew. We present to you, your bounty"

He gives a bow.

[Waistcoatwill]

Cypher's shoulders sag slightly as he stands dripping on the deck. Even still he speaks loudly and with gusto, ensuring that the crew can hear.

My Lord Protector, congratulations on your great victory today. The resources we have intercepted will weaken our enemy even as they multiply our strength. I am confident that given time and resources, this ship will be a fine addition to our fleet.

His voice drops, keeping the end of his report to the assembled commanders. His hands tighten into fists at his side.

My intelligence reports failed to account for the horse clan having so many resources at sea. I also underestimated the threat mere beasts could pose. You will not find my preparations so lacking again.

[Dusk Raven]

In comparison to her fellow "advisors," Maiabel had little to say. This was a small victory, but a victory all the same. "I am pleased that this battle went well, my lord." She hesitated a moment before speaking again. "If I may - I still have some magic available to me. I would use it to treat our wounds." Maiabel herself was the most badly wounded, but she tried her best not to let that affect her stance or speaking.

[MrAbdiel]

"Do it." He offers promptly to Maiabel; his posture indicating an assumption that his wound - minor as it happens to be - is to be addressed first. The horn of the ramfish has cut beneath the cuirass and torn chain and skin beneath; a fleshwound only. But it was his wound; and therefore more severe in nature to anyone else's. Within that ostensibly selfish act was an acknowledgement of the weird, lopsided symbiosis between master and servant; in the dark logic of their heirarchy, it was good, even noble, for him to permit her to endure her own pains for his comfort.

"Don't flog yourself, Cypher. If we had known, we would have done too well. Our primary goal here was not victory in itself, but to secure our relationship with Zukad and his scoundrels. We needed to project strength, without casting the enemy as weak. Now the pirates know that there are enemies drawn to their waters that come not just with boarding hooks and ballistae; but druid-tricks and leviathans against which they are largely powerless. Zukad came out here wondering if I was a partner worth retaining in coalition. He'll leave with the suspicion that in due time, he will be coming to me for protection from horned-fish and the ravages of an unfriendly sea like he has not known. So bloodied and victorious with a mauled ship as prize - that, I think, is the best outcome we could have wanted. But you are right in that we did not know what we ought might now, about the Horse Clan. And we have invited their wrath, now. Make them, and any clans that specifically oppose them, your priority ahead."

Finally, he turns his eyes to the chest again, and gives Sharkan a nod of approval. "She is your prisoner, then; make of her what you will. If you discover any useful information or skill out of her, I expect to know. Did you find a manifest for the ship at all, or set eyes on the rest of the cargo? This - whatever it is - may be impressive, but is hardly worth a whole ship's worth of carry. Cypher - spring the lock on it. Let us see what our blood has bought, and for what such good men would die so valorously."

[Darius Vibrtrar]

"I will inform you as soon as I have evaluated her. I asked where The Gift was and she took me to this chest. I prioritized this chest, and they did seem keen on getting it off the ship before you could arrive. As we were able to save the ship, the remaining Cargo should still be within your command."

He paused.

"Are you hungry my lorrrrd, would you like me to prepare something for you? Would you rather I draw a bath, get the salt water off your armor?"

There is a purring as he says Lord.

[JbeJ275]

After a long struggle, first with the lock coming undone and then with a somewhat undignified period of prying to have the metal of the upper and lower sections of the box come apart the warped metal opens to reveal a simple circlet of iron and bronze. A crown, though not one that is outwardly particularly impressive, bearing eight outward metal spikes with spaces for jewels to be embeded and a final one in the centre, only three of which actually still bear jewels. The inside of the crown bears writing in many langagues, and for all the langagues there you can read the message is the same.

"Let this crown adorn the brow of that ruler whose realm shall last forever.'

Despite the simple construction, and metals which seem more likely found in the forge of a common village blacksmith than a crown, it bears no scuffs, stains tarnishes or scratches, apart from one faint impression of being grasped by powerful fingers in the fron right of the inside of the crown. Those gems that remain are a Dark Green Cystal of Star Diopside, A Dark Crimson Bllodstone and a Deep Blue Saphire.

Spoiler: OOC

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History or Arcana Checks to know more about the nature and History of the Crown

As for the other supplies on the ship, it's carrying an immense load of grain and many casks of fairly weak beer, seemingly to be distributed to the city when it arrives but also a substantial weight of more significant treasures. Though the pirates claim some tresures as their own for their services despite the lack of fighting you retain your claim to the majority of the haul, an series of chests containing 4,000 Gold Pieces, 150 Platinum pieces and 20,000 silver coins, all neatly stacked and sorted with immense tresure chests. Further the court druid's quarters hold a fair quantity of potions, which you eventually identify as three potions of lesser restoration, two potions of cure serious wounds, 20 small vials each holding a potion of cure light wounds and two potions of water walk.

[Darius Vibrtrar]

Sharkan looks at the crown with interest, but has no intention of attempting to take the Lords rightful claim.

(1d20+2)[16] Knowlegde arcana to look at the crown.

He glances to Aulani afterward.

"Aulina, tell me of your skills, speak to impress."

[Waistcoatwill]

Cypher nods at the Lamorak's sage assessment of thr situation and soon becomes all-consumed in opening the box.

Careful and methodical application of his tools quickly results in a satisfying click. Unfortunately he is visibly sweating by the time he prises the battered metalwork apart to present the crown to his Lord.

Lord Protector, may I have a closer look if it pleases you?

Cypher concentrates on the item, passing his hands over it with a few arcane signs.

Spoiler: Actions

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Casting detect magic.

History check using 1IP for +8
(1d20+20)[40]

[Dusk Raven]

Maiabel nods wordlessly, stepping forward and reaching out her hand to deliver a touch of healing.

Spoiler: Actions

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Casting Cure Moderate Wounds first. (2d8+6)[13]
If Lamorak is still missing any HP after that, Maiabel will use a Lesser Vigor on him, which will slowly heal 15 HP. Then, the remaining Lesser Vigor(s) goes on herself.

[JbeJ275]

"Why, such a thing would take far to long good sir. I'll head below and make sure these pirates don't miss anything to obvious. I'll speak with you later my lord."

With that, she goes to descend back below decks.

Meanwhile, Cypher is looking over the crown, and begins to recall and explain it's history.

Marcelia as with many other nations on the continent claims the legacy of an ancient empire, one that covered almost all of the continent at times, though it's own might as well as a series of vassals, marches, tributaries and dependent allies. The empire's history is long and complex, and it's rise was so long ago and in such a time of chaos that very few records survive. One of those records though, testimony given by a soul that had been bound up in a ritual before it was freed made its way to the Marcelian archive though, and from there into Cypher's memory.

This testimony tells of a warrior who went and sought out promises from every facet of nature, dealing with both angels and devils, fey, elemental lord and construct then making some form of vow, oath or deal. Each nation tells differently who this covenant was made with, in Marcelia it was always taught that he struck this deal with the highest and holiest of angels. This matches countless folk tales but the testimony tells more. That this man had his oath bound into solid form, lacking at this time any kingdom it was not a fine crown but an old and plain one, lacking any ornamentation, writing or gems. That he then journeyed around the world, and each people that joined his empire carved their support of him into the crown in their own tongue. That he learned powerful magic, some arcane, some divine, some natural, and that the masters of each school of magic bent to his throne and each of them provided a jewel to put him beyond their power.

This throne was worn for many generations, only for the first king's successors to forget the importance of his earliest oaths and promises, letting others steer them without considering the worthiness of their advisors. Arbitrarily heaping rewards on the common people of one city, while tearing down another. They commissioned a new crown, bedecked in platinum and diamonds. And the empire still lasted, with the momentum of institutions carrying it onwards for generations and generations but never held such a solid grasp. And then the empire crumbled, and the capital was cast into the sea amid an immense civil war where the mages and druids chose opposite sides. The remaining royals scattered, with many of them carrying what treasures they could away by ship or caravan only for mounted raiders to overrun most of them and claim many prizes. This ancient crown, without any obvious sign of wealth to it and seemingly having lost some of its magic outside the hands of a devoted ruler, was thought a trinket and from then lost to all history.

As for Cypher's sense of magic, in radiates subtle but powerful abjuration magic, with magic of all other schools there somewhere but locked away far beneath the surface. In particular there's some powerful but buried transformation magic on the crown's inside.

[Waistcoatwill]

Cypher is stunned at this discovery and can't take his eyes off the crown even as he passes it back to Lamorak.
He leans closer to speak in hushed tones.

Lord Protector, this crown is a true legend. The Archive would have gladly burned half their scrolls just to confirm it had not been lost for eternity.

I would need a pearl of rare size to confirm my suspicions, but I believe much of the mythic power bestowed on the so-called Imperatus Primus still lies within, but dormant. Should it be restored, reconquering your kingdom would be the smallest iota of what you could achieve.

[Darius Vibrtrar]

Sharkan raised an eyebrow, but did not comment further, allowing his new attendant the freedom to go below deck. He redirected his attention back to his lord to see if he needed sustenance.

[MrAbdiel]

Lamorak has become somewhat laconic in the battle's aftermath; shifting one arm slightly to permit Maiabel access to his wound; his senses absorbing the activity of Cypher examining the crown and Sharkan's interlocution with his captive. When Cypher's quiet pronouncement of the crowns great power and history reaches his ear, he turns his dark gaze to the circlet, takes it as offered in his grip, and steps once, twice, to the railing of the ship. Holding the crown up at eye level at the extension of his arm, he almost seems to be seeing a kind of perfunctory eye contact with the gems remaining in their settings. For an insane moment, it looks like he might fling the crown into the sea, as if resentful of its storied power, or fearful that it may elevate some alternative lord to challenge him. But whatever is happening between his dark lordship and the artifact, there emerges a peace between them; and he turns to press the circlet back into Cypher's hands - considerably less reverantly than the opposite operation had been performed.

"You'll have your pearl. For now, this prize is in your care, Cypher. I would know in detail what it is, before it is placed on my head. For now, we split the spoils with the pirates and return to the castle. This may change our next move... considerably."

[Waistcoatwill]

Cypher's eyes widened in fleeting alarm as Lamorak fleetingly appeared ready to discard their hard one artefact. Breathing an inaudible sigh of relief he carefully takes the crown and squirrels it away in his handy Haversack.

Any who wish to take it will have to go through me, Lord Protector!

***

When dismissed Cypher retreats from the deck, first quietly checking to see if the others can tend to their own injuries. He then finds a cabin to occupy and bars the door against intrusion. With the crown safe for now, he finally heals himself with his own facsimile of divine power. The rest of the journey is spent selecting ways to screen the newcomer for any potential threat she might pose.

That night, in his private quarters, he attempts to copy an almost lost magic of the drakes of yore, distending his jaw unnaturally to eat the crown and store it safely withi him for his 8 hours of rest in a bed that looks like it is almost never actually slept in.

Spoiler: Actions

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Opportunistic Piety - 1IP to heal himself for 22hp, he can do that twice more today if any of the others need a top up.

Arcane Dilettante- 1IP to cast hoard gullet and store the crown over night.

Selecting Enduring Scrutiny, Insidious Insight, and Rope trick for Arcane Dilettante the next day, and prepping Identify and Detect thoughts as part of his normal spell selection.

[JbeJ275]

With your mission now complete, with food and wealth denied to your foes and taken within your own grasp and with a powerful relic intended to empower your foes now under your control you turn the ships about and set sail for your base with all due speed. Somewhat slowed by reduced pace of the holed ship and the need to escort it back but otherwise making good pace and soon returning to your island base.

A few pieces of information become apparent during the journey, most notably the total disappearance of Aulani, her never being seen again after disappearing below decks. There was no sign of further sabotage done to the ship as she left, but equally there was no obvious pathway by which she could have made her exit. There is no sign of any further struggle below decks or of any thefts, and careful investigation shows she went down to one of lowest remaining watertight areas in the ship and from there onwards there is no sign of her.

That mystery is perhaps the greatest source of uncertainty, and lasts well after your ship is brought into dock. The pirates it seems are split on entering your service or pulling back for other objectives, Zukad has one of his men, his goblin third mate Chuil, pass on a letter of departure from service, with intentions for another vessel to pick up him and many of his more bloodthirsty marines, returning them to the corsair haven they initially hailed from. While he takes the marines, and those men bloodthirsty or desperate enough to seek brutal ship to ship combat for ever greater prizes, many, Chuil included, who were looking for a living as sailors after being cast out of their home nations for various crimes are happy to enjoy this more risk averse style of piracy. Zukkad offers to ensure the message is passed around, so others of that type can find their way here to man your newly captured prize as well. Lacking the marines will be less than ideal if you ever need to escort troops or fight a pitched battle at sea, but so far you've had little call for them since Maiabell bought them to victory during the Miracle.

With that resolved though you are returned to your chambers, the most comfortable ones that exist amid the largely ruined castle and with greater reserves of food and wealth will now have more time to plan your next moves, and convince the dark lord of your preferred path.

[Darius Vibrtrar]

Sharkan will scan the area to see if she left behind any magical auras to give a clue to her escape.

"Cypher.... you saw Aulani. Did she look recognizable to you? perhaps someone of note, passing as a shiphand?"

[MrAbdiel]

Back on the island that constitutes his kingdom, Lamorak stands at the rocky shore side of the docks that have been roughly hammered into place to accommodate the beginnings of his fleet. With Zukkad's vessel shrinking toward the horizon, the dark prince grips the letter in one hand, while holding the other arm up so that Maiabel might undo its straps and buckles, and spirit away its components to see them cleared of sea-water and fish blood. Lamorak himself may not know whether Maiabel does this herself, or bullies a lesser servant into doing so. To him, these are the same thing.

Tools and obstacles.

He grips Zukkad's letter, crumpling, into his fist. "The coward didn't have the honor to look me in the eye before slinking off into the sea. Afraid, maybe, or what might have resulted." The fact that this is not at all an unfounded fear, and Lamorak might have reached out and snatched the life out of the man for spurning the opportunity to serve does not mitigate the Lord Protector's gloom. His eyes track down to the goblin before him. A small creature - ugly things, goblins - but apparently capable enough as a sailor. And, with the departure of Zukkad, Chuil was the best tool within his grip, for the seaward ambitions of his empire.

"Congratulations, Commodore Chuil. You arrive here at the dawn of a new age, borne on wings of good fortune. You possess good judgement that your superiors did not; and so you are here, catapulted in authority from third mate, past second, over the captaincy of one vessel and upward to the command of two. Serve me well, and your rewards will be great." The corollary threat is not put into words. It coils listlessly in potentia, like a brumating viper. "You are the first member of my Outer Circle. There will be more to come. In authority, you answer directly to Maiabel; indirectly to Sharkan, and Cypher; and ultimately, to me." This decision, to make Maiabel ultimately responsible for the naval assets of the empire, is born not of a demonstrated expertise as a sailor or captain, but as an oblique, final recognition of the maid's actions during the Dark Miracle. She saved the fledgling empire from destruction at sea; she had, by Lamorak's logic, won authority in that arena; come what may.

Further away, the tyrant's eyes watch the silhouettes of Cypher and Sharkan conferring on the now grounded and in-repair hull of their new acquisition. Their postures told him that the woman, their 'captive', had not been found. Who was she? And what part had she played in this? These questions, unanswered, vexed him. He dropped the remnant of the letter into Maiabel's keeping, and raised the other arm so she could complete the dissolution of his panoply.

"Tell me, Commodore Chuil. If I were to give you ultimate freedom to lash the sea from my haven, what would you elect to do? Would you raid merchants, or coastal towns? What, I ask, do you think you are best at?"

[Dusk Raven]

Maiabel wordlessly helps her lord doff his armor, setting the pieces aside for the moment - while listening to Lamorak's speech. She feels a small swelling of pride and being put in charge of her lord's navy -- though she does attempt to suppress it. After all, for a maid, pride should come from a job well-done, and not from being assigned the job in the first place. And she has a more immediate job to take care of.

Once the armor has been completely doffed, she calls for a ship hand to help her carry all the pieces to her quarters in one trip. Once there, she dismisses the hand, and sets to work doing the cleaning herself. Some might consider it demeaning work, but that's a concept long gone for Maiabel. The former noble might once have balked at this, but she had lost -- or purged -- any trace of that personality. Or at least, she had tried. Some part of her wished she could be doing grander work, but that was just an annoying voice in her mind, one she silenced at once. That was not a fitting thought for a maid.

Besides, the time would come for other work, like fighting. For now, however, there was nothing to do but take a cloth, douse it in rubbing alcohol, and scrub the armor until it was clean... and also, find a place for that letter.

Spoiler: OOC

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I don't actually know the particulars of how one would clean armor, but I'm hoping I'm at least in the ballpark.

[Waistcoatwill]

The escape has clearly rattled Cypher and a mixture or fury and embarrassment fuels his spiteful response.

Why of course Sharkan, I had nothing better to do whilst ascertaining the provenance of a mythic artefact than ogle your new pet.

For all of their inadequacies my questioners could at least secure prisoners with some degree of competence. You're almost making me regret expending them to route the College mages. I clearly shall have to write up a protocol for future occasions when I am indisposed.

Obviously I did a cursory inspection though, let me think...

Spoiler: Action

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Gather information (11 ranks, +2 synergy bonus, +6 Int, +8 cunning knowledge for 1IP)

(1d20+27)[44]

[JbeJ275]

Chuil looks up and down nervously at Maiabel and Lamorak, his manner bringing to Lamorak's mind that of a small animal faced with a snake or a hawk and trapped without escape, choosing whether to flee when such was impossible or hold their ground and hope they'd be passed over for more fitting prey. Fortunately for the goblin, unlike most of the stolen pets Lamorak has seen this tested on he better holds his nerve. He ducks his head low in an odd sort of bow then answers.

"Obviously my lord I would first ask Madam Maiabel, who is and is not to be struck at, who you wish to invite conflict with and who you wish to stay the hand of, ensure I do not bring issue onto you without your noble majesty being forewarned. With your permission I'd contiue to strike at your brother's kingdom's shipping. They are for the moment without a strong enough navy to contest us outside of their own waters, and much of their coastal infrastructure is still being repaired. Other private venture's I'd make to attack opportunistically as well.

Lighter and smaller vessels used for private trade are good targets sir, as there are fewer faster sailors than those under my command and they'll have little chance to fight. As for coastal towns sir few of those in this bay have much wealth worth the risk of foe's armies. Beastclan herds will eat your face before you can take them as plunder and they've little else worth taking besides food. Marcelia has most of their army still camped on the southern coast, and Odrana sets golems to protect anything of value. Outside of the city the only wealth they have is in the Mines and the Slaveports anyway."

All his comes out at a quick clip, half enthusiastic half fearful as the goblin rocks back and forth on his heels and nervously awaits your judgement.

While Lamorak is interrogating his new Commodore, and as Maiabel cleans the last scrap of gore off the Dark Lord's breastplate, noting a half dozen small dents or scuffs in the enchanted metal in need of further care Sharkan and Cypher were busy with their own discussions.

Spoiler: Cypher

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Aulani did not match the face or mannerisms of any figures previously well known enough for you to have covered them in your files. That said, her appearance does provide some minor clues. Firstly, she moved oddly, as if this was not a new or unfamiliar form but she was not quite as at home in her body as you might expect. Secondly, her accent carried traces of a foreign dialect to it, long written over by a Beastclan accent but from elsewhere originally. Thirdly, you noted that while most humans of the fishclans that provide the Beastclan lesser sailors are bronze-skinned by birth, she carried subtle signs of being paler and then tanned over the course of years, as some-one from thee north of the continent or else recent immigrants from somewhere up there.

[Darius Vibrtrar]

Sharkan does not seemed phased by cyphers tone and response. He listens as he pulls out an unidentified bit of Jerky to chew on while cypher thinks things over.

"She was behaving.... odd, for a random commoner. Perhaps someone in disguise?"

[Waistcoatwill]

Cypher appears to ponder their ex-captive for a while, eyes lidded on thought. When he looks up his eyes lock with Sharkan's, barely even blinking as he conveys his thoughts.

In disguise, certainly, but perhaps only in a manner of speaking. They have the accent of the clans, but their "A"s have a whiff of the North about them; they have skin tanned by a life on the waves, but are paler in base skin tone than the others; they are clearly long accustomed to this role and aspect, yet are uncomfortable in their skin.

These point to a foreigner, long settled with the clans, and quite likely a shapeshifter of some stripe. Your former nation is in the North. Tell me, do therianthropes feel more comfortable in one of their forms? You certainly seem to favour this one. Are you aware of any others of your kin down South? What would drive one of your kin so far from home, I wonder?

He tilts his head ever so slightly in question at Sharkan before carrying on.

Certainly there are other beings with the power to change their skin. If we are lucky then they left the ship, but there is no reason to assume that our fortunes have turned so suddenly. They certainly appear to have some magical ability, whatever the source, and we must assume they are still here for the immediate future. We should circulate her description lest she returns to her previous form. Let all know to avoid conflict and seek us even if Inner Circle sits in council.

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm not actually going to use Insight on Sharkan as he's a PC, just needling at him a bit

[MrAbdiel]

Lamorak listens to Chuil's explanation - a kind of high-stakes job interview, in effect - and is genuinely impressed at the goblin's articulation and insight.

"So be it, Commodore. You have wisdom in you, I am surprised - and pleased - to discover. Confine your activities to the enemies we have already made, and those too powerless to become new factors. In time, I will deliver you a sea whose every corner is yours to plunder."

He reaches out, and places a hand on the top of the goblin's head. For many, this has been the immediate sensation that precedes the feeling of having one's life force yanked upward and outward from their suddenly cold, dead body. Now, it is a conferral of blessing. The fact that death does not result is the badge of favor; and Typho roars, calling eyes to the scene to witness the bestowal.

So this was the first, Lamorak thinks to himself. Chuil, Master of Ships. Long may he serve.

* * * * *

The throneroom is, to be frank, unimpressive. Being at the centre of the castle, it is part of the most structurally stable elements of the groaning, slowly dying edifice; but the floor is still pitched at a five degree tilt slowing down toward the east, and everything feels a little off-centre. If there was an actual throne here, it has been long looted; and a makeshift alternative has been assembled from blocks of stone, with a drape of the least moth-eaten scarlet fabric that could be found in the building. To salvage some menace for the seat, some enterprising decorator has had seventeen spears bracketed to the back of the stone; one pointing straight up, and eight to the left and right radiating like a semi-circular sunburst of malice behind him.

Like many throne rooms, it's large enough to accomodate an enormous crowd for a coronation; but it's doubtful this room, with its cracking columns, a groaning floorboards stripped of their rotten carpet, and guttering, winking everburning torches one by one seeming to give up and betray their names, will ever host a ceremony of that opulence again. For now, it hosts only four; the Lord Protector and his inner circle. And, occasionally, one of the numerous, irritating ghosts shackles to the stones of the castle will remind everyone they exist by imbuing a piece of debris with enough momentum to skip it eerilly across the ground. At this stage, everyone has silently agreed to ignore such intrusions.

The stolen crown sits on an unremarkable wooden pedestal at the foot of the stairs leading to the throne; surrounded there by the Lord Protector's three confidants; the man himself slouching forward on the throne, thoughtfully; content to leave that crown to last, after they've settled on the next step for his burgeoning hegemony.

"The sea is where we are weakest; but we have taken the measures we can to begin shoring up that deficiency. If Chuil is successful, he will be stripping wealth from my brother's coffers and putting it into mine. A little gold will mean we can call on Zukkad's fleet and peers again when needed. A little more, and we can begin raising our own ships in earnest. The goblin must have time to prove himself."

Lamorak tiredly rubs thumb and forefinger beneath his eyes for a moment, marshalling his thoughts as he does.

"Now, I think, it behoves us to extend our influence outward into other kingdoms. While we are weak, and we do not feature in the senses of kings and queens, we have an opportunity to move undetected by them. I think, perhaps, Odrana is a fair target - we have nothing to gain from war with them, but perhaps we have something to offer a dissatisfied noble house, which may open the way to mystical resources for us..."

He trails off, opening the floor to commentary, or suggestions, or requests for specific consideration.

Spoiler: OOC:

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a Take 10 for 19 on Knowledge: Nobility and Royalty to perhaps know a little about, particularly, House Miridia in Odrana. But also for any other 'rival factions' in other nations whom Lamorak And Friends could support, perhaps by making a deniable, 4 person assault or seizure of an item or whatnot, in return for later or immediate support for Lamorak's Rebellion. He's decided that the best thing he can do to keep the wolves from the door is help other troublemakers.

[Darius Vibrtrar]

Sharkan stands there as he rips the flesh from itself, the strands of sinew and muscle ripping and tearing under his teeth. The speed in which he eats and chews would indicate he is savoring not only the process of eating, but the flavor of the flesh he is currently chewing.

"Interesting, this tells us many things. One; It is likely that the Clans accent is not their only accent, If we are presuming they are faking the accent as part of a disguise, it is likely the accent is a cover, and their Northern Accent was slipping through. Perhaps a Southerner pretending to be a Northerner. Two, their skin tone did not match their fellow servants, which if it was a disguise, would show that their disguise was incomplete. Three, they are uncomfortable in that disguise, That tells us that they are not a Were-creature. Were-Folk are often born into their forms, and if they are not, their human forms are their base forms, It would make no sense that her bipedal form wouldnt be as natural as breathing. I strongly doubt they area Were-Folk, Unless.... they were a rare Were-Folk, like a Jackal-Were, or a Wolf-Were, being an Animal that has learned to take the shape of man. That would in fact explain alot.... I am not saying that is what she was, but It fits alot of the clues you have revealed. Her motives, I cannot fathom.... She was indeed acting odd. She leapt at the chance to serve when offered survival, all the other crewmen fled like sheep. She grinned and smiled during the entire encounter.... which would lend to a Jackal-were....But she became annoyed when I was having trouble getting the chest. Unreasonably annoyed, as if her loyalties were too quickly shifted.... which could also lend to a Jackal-Were."

Sharkan lets a particularly seasoned peice of flesh sit on his tounge while he ponders.

"If we had someone would could.... sniff them out. Unfornately my nose isnt sensative enough to work like a hounds.... do we have access to hounds?"

[Waistcoatwill]

I will consult my notes and see if I can shed any further light in the creature tonight, along with several other matters. Tomorrow I can have a small pack of celestial hounds, but without an item of the woman's tracking will be difficult. Fortunately, that is not our only tool to find potential infiltrators.

*****

In the mouldering throne room Cypher nods through the discussion of the navy. A vital line of defence and means to project power, but neither his area of interest nor his concern.

I can interview the Commadore at some juncture to ascertain his true loyalties, Lord Protector. Fully probing the abilities of the crown and ensuring that Sharkan's woman has truly left us are my main priorities for the moment.

As to the future, your strategy is an excellent one. It may take time, but I shall attempt to identify voices of dissent and discord amongst the other nations. As directed, I will first attempt to identify enemies of the horse clan, for we can certainly expect some response from them after our victory today.

Raids upon Odrana could secure us serfs at the very least. With some training we could return a few to improve my contacts in the region and help us identify potential allies.

Spoiler: OOC

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Knowledge check try and narrow down what the woman might be a little further (in case that's possible). It'll be +12 or +16 depending on which is most relevant.
(1d20)[8]

[JbeJ275]

Spoiler: LAMORAK

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House Miridia in particular is an odd one by Ordanan standards, prefering to play a minature game of politics for control of the various academies with the city rather than invest and rik resources vying for control of the city itself. Like all Ordanan noble's they're thoroughly dismissive of any non elves, so unlikely to respect any allaiance where they have to consider themselvess beholden to you meaningfully. Also if you're hoping for seriosu help that means dealing with Vanarielle directly, who is known to engage in wanton acts of creulty if she believes she's not being properly deferred to.

As for other local troublemakers, the beastclans are not really one nation in the same way your own homeland is. While High King Vantrax is considered in charge, that really only means he's first in like to rally against any outside threat seeking to attack them all, they still raid each other periodically. Last you heard, Clan Gwastatir your recent enemies are engaging in a drawn out series of low intensity conflicts with Clan Anghywir, who focus on either colourful or colour changing creatures and have a long term fued with Clan Dyfnderoedd, or the shark clan, which is rooted in politics about the newest and largestt clan against one of the oldest aand most reclusive. This also relates to those fish clans that formed oppurtunistic alliances with the Horse clan after being stifled by the shark clan. The deeper politics eludes you though.

Further east, there are ongoing conflicts between various goblin and kobold clans against a small aliiance of independent dwarf holds. With the dwarfs benefitting from some recent technological and ecenomic changes and better equiping themselves. The less organised groups in the region are now being pushed back, but both conflict and displacement are good potential sources of trouble.

There are likely more conflicts happening further affield, but you know little of them. And annoyingly the work of your father can be seen in dousing many of the potential embers you could have stoked. No doubt more groups that could work with you do remain, it's just relitively few of them are less known these days lest they attract attention of their own.

Spoiler: CYPHER

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Unfortunately she didn't give you much more than you've already examined. If you want to specify a route of examination or a specific detail there might be something there but nothing jumps out at you. There are many creatures that change forms, including lycanthropes and those few true dragons that remain as well. It does strike you as odd that the woman would initially make deliberate efforts to introduce herself to Sharkan and be in his presence, only to so quickly turn on him though. If she was capable of hiding on the ship for the full voyage hope there's little reason she couldn't have done so during your capture of the vessel.

[Darius Vibrtrar]

Displeased with the state of the throne room, Sharkan sets to task an unseen servant to clean the area.

"Ill have this place sorted soon my lorrrrrd"

Sharkans concern and interest seems to be on lodging rather than world domination, that this place might be mold ridden disturbs him

[MrAbdiel]

Lamorak falls silent for a moment. Many ideas; few courses. Finally, he rises from his 'throne', and stalks toward the pedestal at the centre of the group. The tyrant takes up the crown in his fingertips, and locks 'eyes' with it once more time.

"...Victory comes in this conflict through many risks, judiciously taken. Therefore I choose to delay no longer in using... this. Let us see, then, what power the ancient dynasties feared and most covered."

He glances sidelong to Maiabel.

"Maiabel. Receive this burden: I place this crown on my head, now. If you should find my demeanor, or personality substantially changes as a result.. I am charging you now, within my right mind, that it is your duty to see it removed from my head so I may regain my senses. Is that clear?"

And with that... Lamorak, heedless of the lack of totally complete identification processes, places the crown upon his own brow.

Spoiler: Unlimited Pooooower! OOC:

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Mostly because, as a DM, I get sad when the players carefully magically discern things that might be more fun to learn by trial. What's a little cursed crown between friends? Hit me, DM.

[Waistcoatwill]

Cypher is so busy planning out his exhaustive, lesser minds might say paranoid, search for the likely long departed Aulani that he is almost completely taken aback by Lamorak's dynamism.

B...b...but...

His protestations quickly tail off into a quiet sigh. He might disapprove of incautious spontaneity, but that was why Lamorak was the Lord Protector and Cypher's only path to vengeance.

The crown is a powerful artefact but there is a chance I can assist Maiabel should the need arise.

He begins an arcane working, holding it ready should the need arise.

Spoiler: Actions

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Cypher readies an action to cast dispel magic on the crown should Maiabel give the nod.

Is an extra roll requiredto focus in on Aulani's name?