okay

acl.cool/site/draft/umbral3.dj

@@ -2,16 +2,28 @@
 
 The island-city of Ruathym lies midway between Waterdeep and the first expanses of open ocean that reach to the west. It is home to a Northlander people, a company of pillagers and thieves who raid the near Coast in accordance with what they see as their natural right and dominion.
 
-Our brave heroes find themselves on a ferry ship, bound for that cold speck of rock, to do the work of their mission's latest leg. In compromise with Almuth's Goddess, the party decided to undertake vanquishment of the Cyclone--- odd even among its eight fellows, and against whom preparation has proved difficult--- on the heels of their victory over the [Witness](/writings/umbral2/). It is something of a blow then that Almuth himself should not be present today[^almuth], engaged as he is, otherwise, with clerical business of a higher priority. Warren too is missing, tending to obligations[^warren] amongst his dwarven kin under Fourthpeak. The beholder on which the party now sets its sights waits in blue water, west even of Ruathym, where it foments a vortex of thin-drawn thunderheads that hammer spumy, livid coils into the Trackless Sea.
+Our brave heroes find themselves on a ferry ship, bound for that cold speck of rock, to do the work of their mission's latest leg. In compromise with Almuth's Goddess, the party decided to undertake vanquishment of the Cyclone--- odd even among its eight fellows, and against whom preparation has proved difficult--- on the heels of their victory over the [Witness](/writings/umbral2/). It is something of a blow then that Almuth himself should not be present today[^almuth], engaged as he is, otherwise, with clerical business of a higher priority. Warren too is missing; he tends to obligations[^warren] amongst his dwarven kin under Fourthpeak. The beholder on which the party now sets its sights waits in blue water, west even of Ruathym, where it foments a vortex of thin-drawn thunderheads that hammer spumy, livid coils into the Trackless Sea.
 
-The ferry captain--- a halfling who introduced himself on land as "Ramel"--- ventures a question. What do outsiders seek on the island of Ruathym, so notorious a skerry for its people's disdain toward just such mainland-dwellers? He catches looks of mild confusion that flit about some party members' faces, and, seeing that they may not quite comprehend the situation into which they will soon disembark, gives a brief lesson. Ramel explains that the inhabitants of Ruathym are an Illuskan people who make their way by raiding nearby settlements. They believe in their own rightful mastery of the Sword Coast's northern reaches and long for the day that they can take it _back_ by force. Concomitantly, mingling is ill-advised.
+The ferry captain--- a halfling who introduced himself on land as "Ramel"--- ventures a question. What do outsiders seek on the island of Ruathym, so notorious a skerry for its people's disdain toward just such mainland-dwellers? He catches looks of confusion that flits about the faces of the party members and, seeing that they may not quite comprehend the situation into which they will soon disembark, gives a short lesson. Ramel explains that the inhabitants of Ruathym are an Illuskan people who make their way by raiding settlements of the isles and nearby Coast. They believe in their own rightful mastery of the Sword Coast's northern reaches, and long for the day that they can take it _back_ by force. Concomitantly, mingling is ill-advised.
 
-Though freshly uneasy, the party is--- of course--- not dissuaded; a mission is a mission, after all. They share the immediate tenets of their quest, to see the Sea of Swords ridded of the monstrous storm. As the ship pulls upon the near dock of Ruathym, its captain bids his charges well. Before the party departs, they ask for directions to the nearest place with ships for hire--- this dock is sparely populated indeed--- and learn that a greater port lies north across the island and receive one last piece of advice: if it is to brave the storm that you desire, seek Hergotha the Storm Maiden, Chieftess of the Ruathym people. None are her equal in the art of conquering storm-lashed seas. Carmel casts "seeming" over the party, working from Ramel's description of the locals, which should lubricate their interactions considerably. 
+Though freshly uneasy, the party is--- of course--- not dissuaded; a mission is a mission, after all. They share the immediate tenets of their quest, to see the Sea of Swords ridded of the monstrous storm. As the ship pulls upon the near dock of Ruathym, its captain bids his charges well, but before the party departs, they ask for directions to the nearest place with ships for hire--- this dock is sparely populated indeed--- and learn that a greater port lies north across the island. They receive one last piece of advice: if it is to brave the storm that you desire, seek Hergotha the Storm Maiden, Chieftess of the Ruathym people; none are her equal in the art of conquering storm-lashed seas. Carmel casts "seeming" over the party, working from Ramel's description of the locals, which should lubricate their interactions considerably.
+
+As the bard works his magic, the forms of the party members are like running wax molded into burly raiders by the arcane hand. Carmal is inhumanly muscular; Gottlob gets a handlebar _moustache_. Louisa and Clementine, unfortunately, are beyond the capability of the spell to disguise as human, and so reduced to regular livestock: an unadorned llama and a horse.
+
+Striding over the gangway and on, to the island proper, adventurers _incognito_ make set their sights on a sharp band of hills that separates the narrow jetty whereby the party laid anchor from the rest of Ruathym to the north and west. Grime and gravel, tiny, abandoned shells, and the dried droppings of seabirds make gritty complaints against boots that trample them into bare stone. Beds of shale turn to tufts of grass, then to scraggly fields that gather like skirts at the bases of the keen protuberances. A half-orc barrels by, his plate armor and stunted tusks gleaming; he reflects a smattering of caustic speckles. The warrior shouts breathlessly to the party, "What are you lot taking your time for?!", before disappearing over the crest of a hill at the base of which our heroes have just arrived.
+
+Following the half-orc's path, the party peers tentatively over the crest to see a sort of temporary military encampment below, abustle with the agitations of battle. A second hill lies at the other side, forming a shallow sort of valley that nestles the ramshackle complex in a grassy depression amidst boulders covered with moss--- in other circumstances, the place might be considered cozy. From their vantage point, the party can make out faint sounds of metal clashing on metal and a tenor of conflict described in shouted fragments that circumnavigate the earthen barrier yonder. They investigate, climbing down and up again to crest the second hill{%something other than "hill"%}, whereupon the source of the clamour becomes clear.
+
+A skirmish indeed rages before them, fish people[^fishes] and Illuskans at each other's throats. Laeral mentioned something about this, that the beating of the cyclone upon the sea has displaced its people, people who clearly now struggle to find living spaces, deprived as they are of their habitual territories. The islanders, for their part, strike at the newfound foes with relish, an attitude in accordance with their fearsome reputation. Though possessing an impressive array of martial skills and implements of war between them, none of the Ruathen is so conspicuous, in dress or in action, as to be taken for the sought "Storm Maiden".
+
+Beyond the party's position lies the sea; to the left and right, more hills extend in lateral rows. Upon a neighboring prominence, a fur-clad Illuskan woman slings bolts of thunder upon her enemies from on high which she seems to pluck from the sky, to mold from the very air itself. This, _surely_, is Hergotha. Voicing the intention to his companions, Carmal "sends" a telepathic message, "I have a team that can defeat the fish and put an end to this storm; meet us on the hill." Gottlob waves his arms about in an effort to draw the storm maiden's gaze and clarify just what hill she is to meet them upon. With surprising composure given the sudden voice in her head, the Chieftess looks about; her eyes find the party's signals, and she bounds clear over the fray in a triplet of mighty leaps to land with no greater impact than a speck of nest-fallen down before them.
+
+{%describe her in some more detail here%}
 
-As the bard weaves his magic, the forms of the party members are like running wax molded into burly raiders by the arcane hand. Carmal is inhumanly muscular; Gottlob gets a handlebar _moustache_. Louisa and Clementine, unfortunately, are beyond the capability of the spell to disguise as human, and so reduced to regular livestock: an unadorned llama and a horse.
 
-Striding over the gangway and across the pier, adventurers _incognito_ make their way toward a band of hills isolating the narrow harbor wherein the party laid anchor from the rest of Ruathym to the north and west. Grime and gravel; tiny, abandoned shells; and the dried droppings of seabirds make gritty complaints against trampling boots that grind them into bare stone underfoot. Carrying on, sheer rocks turn to tufts of grass, then to scraggly fields that gather like skirts at the bases of the sharp-but-stubby protuberances. As the party reaches such a base
 
 [^warren]: Warren's player was sick today.
 
-[^almuth]: Almuth's player was, like the character, otherwise occupied.
+[^almuth]: Almuth's player was, like the character, otherwise occupied.
+
+[^fishes]: I can't remember the exact species. How embarrassing.