Welcome to Gaia! ::

The door opened to a very ill looking mage. Liliana had hoped for this because she didn’t want to find him passed out on the floor. That would have done them no good. The way the ship had jerked to one side, she was lucky that Varro and her self hadn’t been harmed or worse. From a quick glance she noted that under the circumstances Toneldren was fine. She had no doubts that once they got on land they would both start to feel far better. From the looks of it he was quite ready to get off of this ship, about as ready as she was.

“Here,” she reached for his bags, “Let me get that for you.” She didn’t give the mage time to protest.

With his bags in hand, she entered onto the top deck once again and towards Varro. The ship was still settling from the tremendous waves and winds that had whipped around them. “I think we are ready to get off of this ship.” Her feet couldn’t carry her any faster towards where Varro was with Por, anchoring the ship. “Need some help?” She asked them. The piers were completely rusted. She didn’t think they could even be of any use.

The two men had succeeded as much as the environment would permit. A long length of chain had been secured around a tall, rust-coated pole, the only remnant of the largest pier. Though by no means ideal, the lack of turbulence rendered it viable.

The orc was ever silent, standing at the ready, distanced from the two men. His muscles were outlined and glowing with light, giving him an even more enormous presence.

Varro's gaze fell for the first time in a while upon the mage who, being generous, looked like he just got hit by a train. Yet despite all that, he took it in stride. And not once in their time together did he hear him complain about it. The "frail" mage had proved himself tougher than most men who rode lesser ships. And in the process, he had won solidarity.

It wandered to Lili. The woman whom, even if she probably managed to fry out one of the main engines in the process, spared him from a rather shocking series of events. Though he coined her a bit naive, he trusted her.

"I've got to give you credit for coming out here. Both of you." he addressed them. He leaned over the deck of the ship. Not to heave, but to stare into the dark waters below. From here, the entrance to the cove was completely invisible. All perception faded into liquid black about halfway down. "This is the closest anyone's ever gotten in about one hundred years. And we're going even further. From here on, I know nothing about what we'll be facing. This place could be barren. This place could be hell."

It was a rare moment of complete seriousness from Varro.

"You know."

He thought back to the excruciating pain back in his home.

And the 120 hours of life he had left.

"This might be my last hurrah." he stared at the lightning-painted sky. "Even if we make it out alive. I just wanted you all to know that, well... It'll be an honor working with you."

There was a grim silence. Which, like all of them before, was broken by another boisterous laugh. In but ten seconds, Varro's mood had completely turned itself around.

"But enough of the doom and gloom! Let's get going already. Por will be accompanying us."

He eyed the bag in Lili's hand, speaking to the mage as he did so. Meanwhile, he was climbing up onto the railing of the ship, directly over the entrance of the cove. The sight was exact to that shown by the Eye of Arasha.

"Don't worry about the lightning. The ship will intercept anything that'll come at us."

"From what I can tell, the actual way down is about sixty feet. All I know after that is we'll eventually encounter an air pocket. Hopefully we'll encounter it before we drown, right?"

He pointed to Por and Erashnak. "You two take the back." He let out a rather humble chuckle. "I'm honestly not too confident in my own lungs seeing as I've inhaled a factory.. And the others might have a hard time as well. Intercept them if they don't look like they can make it."

If there was one thing he learned about mages, it was that whatever they kept in their bags, satchels, purses, pockets, orifices, or what have you was their lifeblood.

"We're all going to get drenched. And then some. I'm assuming you had the foresight to bring a waterproof bag, my friend?"

Why does everyone always have such negative things to say before jumping headlong into the deep?

"Well, I for one certainly dont plan on dying anytime soon," the mage chimed in to add his two cents, because that was the most honest truth to be had outside of his companions' unhappy musings and possible farewells.

He held his hand out to Liliana as she offered to carry his bags, indicating he'd rather have them on himself as his own possessions rather than in the safekeeping of someone else as Varro mentioned diving underwater. Getting them back, he slung them over his shoulders so they fit snugly around his body. A warrior does not have others carry their weapons for them. A painter does not have others carry their brushes for them. And a mage certainly does not have others carry their spellbooks and reagents for them.

"You know, I knew it would come to this with those images showing the cove being underwater," he muttered as he took his bags and started digging around inside them. He had already said so himself hadnt he, when they had all first met? He did not deal in combat and warfare, Toneldren took up his studies with more practical uses. And the day before they had set off, he left early to go make preparations.

Forget hurling fireballs and shooting lightning. Forget explosive blasts and frigid winds. He pulled out two round scrollcases made of hollowed bone capped with silver in one hand, and in the other, he pulled out a small handfull of dried reeds as he spoke again.

"Would you like to breathe as a fish does?"

One thing was completely obvious, Erashnak was soaked, and pissed off. Black hair dangled in front of his face, no longer was it placed into a firm Mohawk, limp and completely drenched. So was the clothing he wore below his waist. Deer skin as wet as the Ocean itself, hopefully it would dry off as they ventured forth, Erashnak hated fighting wet.

Once he noticed everyone gathering, he too walked over, until Varro instructed him further. Varro pointed toward Erashnak, and Por. Erashnak gave a firm nod in response, agreeing with him, and simply waiting for further instructions.

If this didn't get his point across, Erashnak planted a fist into the opposite palm, creating a massive sound, a force to be reckoned with. "Long trpz." Massive voice following this massive sound.

Erashnak's opinion on the trip was simple. It was extremely terrible, filled with rain, explosive sounds, and tossing and turning. Not that it was long, it was just a horrible experience for the monster. Erashnak was wet, and extremely pissed.

Two scrolls, four people. It was how he had things planned out. A water breathing spell affected touched recipients of the spell; split between two castings for four people altogether. With the addition of their captain, it made five people, almost a sort of dilemma as he stood silently for a moment in thought as the rain came heavy from above.

It didnt bother him so much. He had already planned to be going underwater, so water breathing spells were standard, and he had other things to protect his articles.

His hand closed around the dried reeds as Liliana reached for them. A natural reflex to prevent them from being taken as they'd practically be useless in the woman's hands, and to keep hold of them in the winds of the storm.

"No, stay here," he paused, letting his thoughts settle, "I have an idea."

One scroll should suffice. He could affect two people with each scroll through a touch based casting, but with five, things got somewhat complicated.

"Form a circle," he practically had to yell over the rumble of thunder, "Put your right arm on the shoulder of the second person to your right."

Five people, five points, connected through touch; essentially a pentagram, five points of power. Spells meant for four people, combined to incorporate a fifth.



As they did so, he opened the stoppers on the scrollcases and retrieved the lambskin parchment with arcane text burnt into its surface, thankful for its construction as opposed to a simple paper and ink scribing. As everyone gathered, his right hand held the reeds pressed firmly against whoever's shoulder as he chanted the words off the scrolls.

He felt the arcana well up and shoot out like an electric shock through his body and out his arm, though nobody else would feel this unless they are sensitive to magic as the reagents would be consumed in the casting and the text glowed and burned off the lambskin. Two spells with the duration split between five people would allow each of them about twenty four minutes to breathe under water.

Liliana snatched her hand back. It fell back to her side. “I’m sorry,” she apologized profusely. She thought that the reeds were for them to hold and that by holding them it would inflict the power. It was an honest mistake that she wouldn’t make again. The mage told her to stay as he had some great idea going through his head. She didn’t know what to expect at this point. She truly was clueless when it came to magically infused people.

She followed his instructions and made this tight circle. His chanting was cumbersome. It was because she didn’t understand it. What she didn’t understand scared her. After this mission was over she hoped that she gained a little understanding about their ways. It could make her all the wiser and maybe she wouldn’t be as frightened of it. She felt nothing as the magical current that ran through their arms.

Her eyes did shift from one person to the next, expecting to see some sort of change. As Varro raised a hand to feel his neck she did the same with a worried look on her face. She thought that he had seen something on one of them that caused him to react like that, but there was nothing on her neck.

The lightning did not seem to ever cease. Lili was ready to dive overboard, but she was intelligent enough to wait and make sure the mage gave the okay. “Will we swim like fish as well?” She asked jokingly.

(OOC: I'm basically guessing the mechanics/sensation of your spell, Kraun, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong and I'll edit it accordingly.)

He shot the mage a wicked smirk, detecting the hint of a challenge in his voice. Or perhaps it was his practicality.

Either way, it urged him in one direction. Over the railing of the Galestrider, and into the maw of that cove.

And oblige it he did.

Extending his arms wide, shifting his weight to his heels caused Varro to slowly fall backward, kicking off as his body was about to fully leave the ship.

He stared upward as the sight of the others shrunk, replaced quickly with an inky black and a torrent of bubbles. The sharp inhalation of his nose was almost involuntary. And yet it turned him not into a sputtering mess, nor sent salt water burning down his nostrils.

But instead granted him an unmistakable, deep breath of crisp, clean air, which he quickly exhaled in kind. Not a bubble ejected from his mouth, and not a drop of water was stirred. The arcane possessed his lungs.

He propelled himself down further, finding his swimming ability greatly accelerated by the ability to breathe. The magical advent had completely transformed the ocean.

Everything felt slower. Though he had no clue how long Toneldren's gift would last, the ocean no longer carried the threat of drowning. Instead of being dragged down and suffocated, he found himself being suspended, caressed. Nurtured, almost. The single thruster keeping the ship in place sounded off, the only thing audible this far below the surface. Its' cadence rendered the water's embrace wholly womblike.

He lingered there, completely relaxed for several moments, until it occurred to him, with a practical reluctance, that he should probably confirm with the others that he was not indeed drowning.

Propelling himself quickly to the surface, he breathed in deeply, finding no distinguishable difference in air quality between the world above and the ocean below.

"Well," Varro spoke, audibly but to no one in particular, his eyes distant. "That was something else." he marveled.

His gaze returned, strong and still as he looked at the others, waving a hand down to his location.