Rysen drops the Stormspeaker's Seat.

Mirk has joined the the Stormspeaker's Seat.

Volcica has joined the the Stormspeaker's Seat.

Khanne has joined the the Stormspeaker's Seat.

As Khanne, Mirk and Lykka complete their prayers, and ancient sounds echo throughout the valley bidding the shaman to ascend, the swirling mists along the Cloud Stair lift to reveal stone steps leading to the mountains peak, and the Stormspeaker's Seat.

Lykka glances at Mirk and Khanne. She smiles, though there is a touch of apprehension in her brown eyes as the mountain winds cause strands of her golden hair to dance against her cheeks. She turns, and begins to ascend the Cloud Stair with steady steps, while Tookral, shaking violently from the thick layer of frost covering his body, stares in disbelief.

Mirk hands the shivering Tookral a cloak, and some words of advice, lost on the wind, before the four shaman make their way up the stair. Shortly after Volcica reaches the top, a gust of wind and frosty air decend again to fill the Cloud Stair and obscure the Stormspeaker's Seat.

Rysen has joined the the Stormspeaker's Seat.

Gwenna hasn't moved from the nice, safe place that Rosalind got her to. It's obviously that the Redrain and frozen mountains don't /quite/ mix. Farhaven is in a valley! She's close enough to see what happens around the Cloud Stair, and the apprehension worn briefly by Lykka is now a flicker of emotion across her own face. As there's little she can do for the Shaman - and not as though any of them would need her to - she looks around to espy the others. "How is everyone?"

Arcadia is sitting in a pool of blood at the bottom of the mountain almost dead. No pressure there Rukhnis.

Rukhnis has been treating the shattered body of Cady as well as she can under the circumstances, but it's not the easiest going, here in the cold and snow on the frozen ground at the foot of the mountain. Despite the crimson slush surrounding Cady, the physician has managed to get the bleeding of the fallen countess's hip under control, and with this most critical thing done it's now onto the rest of the woman. She glances around in search of gawping bystanders come to watch the procession up the mountain and treated instead to the sight of a wonderfully gory disaster, and uses her fingers to whistle sharply, catching the gaze of the least wary among them. "YOU," she says sternly, pointing at one who perhaps strikes her as looking marginally more competent than the rest. "I require your assistance."

Rukhnis checked command + leadership at difficulty 15, rolling 13 higher.

Rosalind knows shes pretty useless medically wise, so after helping Volcica up the mountain, she makes the final ascent and hoists herself safely, watching the cloudstairs. "Has anyone told Rukhnis no, I wouldnt,"trying to hide her worry for Cady.

Shaking her head a couple of times, Gwenna glances to Rosalind. "/I/ don't think I would ever tell Rukhnis no," she says and then glances around the bystanders as, surely, several of them heed the healer's call. The Redrain bites her lip and tries not to betray any more worry as she glances to where Arcadia is being tended to. "I wonder what is happening behind..." She waves a hand toward the Cloud Stair. "As well as what might happen when they return." That brings the worry. "Rukhnis! Should we have some people make a sled for the Countess?"

Gwenna checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 3 lower.

"Errm," replies the hapless victim (not Arcadia, she brought her fate on haply) in the crowd, glancing over his shoulder as if looking for the true target of Rukhnis's pointing finger somewhere behind him. But somehow, that quickly, much of the crowd has dematerialized, leaving the slightly hangdog looking man with other option than to flee or stoically accept his fate. Happily for Rukhnis and Cady, he chooses the latter, and shuffles his way through the snow to kneel awkwardly by the physician's side. "Here," she tells him, with no preamble whatsoever. "Hold her as still as you possibly can while I put her leg back into joint. You /must not/ let her move a fraction." Her dark eyes boring into the man with all the force of commanding medical expertise, she gives a small nod as the man takes hold of the countess firmly -- though he squeezes his eyes shut so as not to have to bear witness to the procedure. But somehow it only takes a strong, deft jerk to set Cady's femur back in place -- though it's definitely just as well the woman is unconscious out from the fall.

Rukhnis checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 22 higher.

There is a sudden blaze of lighting and an earth shattering /BOOM/ of thunder from the Stormspeaker's Seat. A great gust of wind and snow blasts down from a swirling gray cloud above.

Arcadia comes to for just a second to let out a low gurgling groan before falling back into unconsciousness.

Rukhnis checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 2 lower.

Here's the thing. Diplomatting and ledgers tend to be done on solid ground and without things like swords or lightning or pirates being flung your way. Gwenna's eyes started to go a bit wide as she listens to Rukhnis' plans for Arcadia's leg. 'Joint' had the princess wince and then all the world is white around her. In the after-effects of nature leave Gwenna knocked down and covered in snow. Thankfully, she ended up face-first in the white stuff enough times as a young girl learning the spear that she knows to start flailing her arms and try to dig her way out. It's not pretty, but she didn't roll all the way down the mountain. This time.

Rukhnis jerks slightly in startlement at the almost deafening reverberations from above, but since she'd already got Cady's leg back in place this luckily doesn't do any additional harm. Her helper lets out an alarmed curse far too rude to repeat, but evidently Rukhnis chose her man well and his own reaction is only to lean over the wounded woman to protect her from the light shower of snow and debris that patters down from above. Rukhnis, for her part, has to settle for taking a flying pebble right to the forehead. She grunts quietly, then quickly looks back to Arcadia to make sure her patient is.. well, only as bad off as she was before the explosion. Drawing in a long breath, she calls back to Gwenna as loudly as she can, "Yes, please!" As loud as she can isn't very loud, but somehow the husky sound of her voice manages to carry even so.

Rysen GM Roll checked dex(3) + athletics(4) at difficulty 15, rolling 31 higher.

Tookral comes to Gwenna's side and, with teeth chattering and a fearful look over his shoulder at the Cloud Stair and the misty heights above, says, "Are you alright, yer Highness?"

Gwenna makes some noises, which seem to be her clearing snow out of her mouth. Wiping at her nose, she glances at Tookral and manages a nod. "I believe so," she tells the man and continues to brush snow from herself. "Thank you for your concern, especially with all that has, and is, going on. Is anyone here good at fashioning a sled of some sort? The Countess there." She pauses and points to where Rukhnis and Arcadia are. "Will not be able to walk back down." She's quiet a moment, watching him shiver. "Would you like to borrow my cloak? It might just fit over your shoulders, but..."

"The Elder gave me this one," says Tookral in a low and thoughtful voice, pulling the one he's wearing closer around him. "I will see what can be done for your friend." Tookral starts down toward Rukhnis, Arcadia and his own friends who have come to Rukhnis's aid. They begin to break free branches, and use their belts and clothing to lash together something of a stretcher for the fearless and heedless Countess.

Rysen GM Roll checked dex(3) + survival(4) at difficulty 30, rolling 3 lower.

Rukhnis checked dexterity + survival at difficulty 30, rolling 19 higher.

Gwenna checked dexterity + survival at difficulty 30, rolling 13 lower.

Rosalind checked dexterity + survival at difficulty 30, rolling 9 higher.

Rosalind begins taking some of the branches and and wrapping belts around here and there, tearing strips from the shirts,"So I can put this here and this here, tying this--,"she mumbles to herself.

Tookral watches Rosalind with a more than normal amount of interest.

Bleeding: controlled. Femur: relocated. Legs: in the process of being immobilized through the recourse of Rukhnis's rolled cloak, her helper's wool mantle, and an abundance of bandages for security. The Eurusi woman works with intense concentration, hardly pausing as she gives her assistant quiet directions, until finally this painstaking work is done. It's only then that she raises her head to observe the apparently inept fumbling of Tookral and (some) company in the making of a suitable sled, her hands halting in their ministrations the better to stare flatly at them. Sighing slightly, she tells the man working with her, "Please do your best to keep her warm. And give her a sip of your whiskey" -- nodding slightly to the flask at his hip. The man sighs but nods back dutifully and does as he's told. Getting stiffly to her feet, Rukhnis limps over to help collect materials and begin piecing the makeshift conveyance together.

Gwenna nods her her head to Tookral and gets back to her feet. "Thank you again, Tookral," she says in a genuine tone and goes about trying to find things to make a sled. Once again, this seems an area that the Redrain doesn't really excel at. Surely they had pre-made sleds in Farhaven, so she's never had to do this sort of thing. She probably used the shield she was so bad at actually using /as a shield/ for a sled instead. Thank the gods and spirits for Rosalind and Rukhnis; Tookral and Gwenna would have otherwise doomed poor Arcadia.

Finally, a shape emerges from the mist and fog that surrounds the Cloud Stairs. Volcica, unscathed and only a little wind-mussed, steps into view and then to the side to make room for whomever follows her. She looks satisfied, a sense of respect for whatever they'd just witnessed clinging in the air around her.

Tookral looks a little shocked at the words of Gwenna. "It... it's m'pleasure yer Highness," he says, as he steps back to let Rukhnis make something that will actually hold together.

Mirk turns on his heel and heads down the Cloud Stair, his cloak removed, his gloves tucked under his belt. Despite the conditions of the mountain slope, he seems braced by the cold, not bothered by it. If anything, he looks invigorated by the entire experience. "Your Highness," he calls as he sets foot on solid stone once more, raising a hand to signal Gwenna. "There's ships in the harbor. Our third candidate for Stormspeaker."

Arcadia yet again groans and reaches her hand into the air for a moment before coming limp again.

Volcica has left the the Stormspeaker's Seat.

Mirk has left the the Stormspeaker's Seat.

After saying whatever it was she had to say to Lykka, Khanne heads down the stairs with the others. Volcica and Mirk break through the fog first, but Khanne is right behind.

Khanne has left the the Stormspeaker's Seat.

Somehow, group fumbling works! Something in the semblance of a stretcher emerges through the assembling of cloaks, branches, and strips of cloth to tie the whole thing together. Now it's time for the really fun part: getting the limp and broken body of the countess onto it. Rukhnis trudges back over to Cady, with an absent yet imperative wave of the hand to whoever might be persuaded to follow her -- maybe Rosalind, fellow master of stretcher construction. "This is going to take a great deal of care, to lift her and set her on the stretcher without allowing her limbs to shift too much." The physician imparts this information with the utmost soberness, impressing her listener(s) with the immense gravity of the situation. Hopefully. "We will need to all lift her at once, keeping all her limbs in place, and settle her on the stretcher as softly as may be."

Rosalind looks to Rukhnis, Arcadia, and the very rustic looking stretcher. Good thing Cady is tiny. "This isnt terrible,"the redhead says with a nod. Rosa grins at Tookral,"Thank you for all that sfuff,"looking at his friends too.

Tookral and the others turn their gaze on Volcica and Mirk, those two shaman, wreathed in the swirling mists of the Cloud Stair. There is a palpable stillness again on the mountain of that sacred place. The wind light, and more refreshing than frigid. Lighting crackles above Volcica's head like a crown of purple light, and frost glistens from Mirk's beard adding a prismatic display to the braided charms as if some avatar of Winter has decended from this ancient mountain.

As the mists of the Cloud Stair again part, the Vala of the Spirit Walkers descends with Lykka, the latter of which seems weary, but alert and relieved.

Rukhnis checked command + medicine at difficulty 25, rolling 23 higher.

Gwenna's face lights up as the familiar faces start re-emerging from the mists. She gives each of them a quick looking over, likely to check for injuries or anything amiss, and then allows herself a moment to marvel at what clings to each of them. There is obvious relief when she espies Lykka and the Redrain gives the woman a warm smile. Mirk's words draw her focus soon enough, though, and she frowns briefly. "You think they will attack," she wonders of the Halfshav nobleman and arches her brows. She turns her glance back to Tookral. "We might need more of your help, and your friends, if you will agree. Hopefully we can keep everyone from harm." That said, she turns to the others. "Maybe we can talk everyone down. The town has been through enough already."

Tookral nods to Gwenna. Whatever disappointment the man experiences upon seeing Lykka descend with the Spirit Walkers, he is clearly concerned for the people of Westwind Point when Mirk gives his warning. To Gwenna, Tookral says, "We will help in any way we can, yer Highness."

For the briefest moment, Rukhnis's gaze shifts back up the mountain, to where the shamans can be glimpsed, distantly, coming down the stair. An expression passes through her eyes -- wistful, remote, and deeply sad -- but with a small, sharp shake of her head she dismisses anything but the work at hand, and gets back to bossing people around in the pursuit of medicine. Under her direction, it all manages to come together somehow, she and her two helpers positioning themselves just so and lifting all together at precisely the right moment, to move Cady's body and lay her with exquisite care upon the makeshift stretcher. Rukhnis lets out a long breath, a very small amount of tension going out of her shoulders, and then she looks to her impromptu nurses. "Can the two of you help carry her back to the village?" she asks, gaze searching. "If not, we will need to find additional aid."

As Rukhnis gives the command to lift, the movement jolts the tiny countess awake. She gives a shrill earsplitting scream of pain and reaches for those around her. Another squall is emitted and her natural instinct is to try and get off the stretcher and stand.

Rysen GM Roll checked composure(2) at difficulty 15, rolling 8 lower.

Rysen GM Roll checked composure(2) at difficulty 15, rolling 12 higher.

Gwenna checked dexterity at difficulty 15, rolling 0 higher.

Rosalind checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 42 higher. Rosalind rolled a critical!

"I don't think the spirits warned us for fun," Mirk says to Gwenna, shaking his head. The motion sends the charms swaying, shaking loose a few flakes of snow and frost, quickly replaces by many more. He moves to rejoin the other group, though he doesn't help with the stretcher. "How is the Countess?"

"We will try to set things right," Gwenna tells Tookral and smiles a touch. "At the least, we will try. If we fail, we won't have done so idly. It takes heart to face things, even if it doesn't turn out how we think." She opens her mouth to say more, but Arcadia's screaming quickly pulls her attention in that direction. She's not as agile as Rosalind, not by a long shot, but she does notice one of the men jerk and manages to move to steady the stretcher. She looks to Mirk again. "Ah. Right. I have heard then aren't the joking sort. So we try diplomacy and hope that works?" It sounds like she certainly hopes it works.

Quirking her lips, Khanne shakes her head. "Not usually. At least when they give warnings. Playful sometimes... yes. Oi. Pranksters..." She shakes her head again and lifts her hand to her neck. "I am in the presence of great diplomats. I trust you can persuade them... I hope."

One of the women who came with Tookral manages to hang onto the stretcher as Arcadia jerks awake screaming. The man on the other end, freaks - and but for Gwenna's quick maneuvering, the Countess would be face first in the snow, likely with her broken bones further damaging her insides.

Looking briefly to the mountain, Rosalind is startled by a scream from the Countess. Gods and Spirits, it could shatter glass! She hurries to steady the stretcher and Cady,"Everyone can still hear? I think she'll be alright,"looking at Rukhnis for conformation.

Mirk checked charm + empathy at difficulty 30, rolling 18 higher.

Gwenna checked charm + empathy at difficulty 30, rolling 25 higher.

Rosalind checked charm + empathy at difficulty 30, rolling 27 higher.

Rukhnis checked charm + empathy at difficulty 30, rolling 10 higher.

"..Gods and spirits, ease her pain," is offered to the air, not an invocation so much as just a.. sympathetic plea. She's looking down the mountain to where her Countess and the others are, but spares a glance for the other shamans-- Tookral included. "Maybe you should hurry back. I'll stay with the others, and we'll bring Cady safely?"

Tookral nods to Volcica, and Lykka says, "I will go too," though she glances towards Mirk and Khanne.

"She will perhaps yet be well," Rukhnis replies tautly to Mirk, "if she can be kept still and warm and safely brought back to the village. Although," she adds rather dryly, "with reactions like this, she must be suffering significantly less from shock than might be expected." Considering this more seriously for a moment, she nods slightly, looking satisfied and perhaps faintly encouraged. However, she does take the time to open her medical kit and draw forth a little flask of whatever she had prepared for the dying Stormspeaker the day before -- most likely something with sedative and pain relieving properties -- and unceremoniously if not ungently prises Arcadia's jaw open just enough to pour it down her throat. But as she does so she says softly, "Hush, there is no harm coming to you. The pain will fade, and your friends will help you back to the village so that you may heal and have further adventures one day. Shh."

"I'll defer to your judgement," Mirk assures, dipping his head towards Gwenna. "You're the one with diplomatic reputation." He frowns, seeing Arcadia, and offers a few words whose tone, quiet and gentle, likely matters more than their content. After, he turns to Lykka and says, "I will go with you. Cousin?" He looks to Khanne.

Rosalind soothingly lowers her voice, her tone quiet and gentle,"Cady, you're really really hurt right now. So we're going to carry you back. But you need to lie still so you dont further hurt yourself." Rosa smiles are her,"You owe me shooting practice and adventures, but you need to be well first.."

Khanne nods to Mirk and Tookral both. "Yes, I will go as well." She is half distracted by Arcadia's plight and all going on there.

Arcadia is resettled and given the good drugs. she's back to snoring softly while being carried away.

Gwenna tries a soothing tone, too, echoing the kind words of the others meant to keep Arcadia from harming herself. "You are an amazing healer, Rukhnus," she says and then turns to Mirk. "Hardly think I can do this one alone, my lord, and hope you'll throw in. Besides, what you've accomplished might go a long way with many of them."

The trek back to Westwind Point feels significantly shorter and easier than the journey there. A pleasant wind pushes gently at the backs of the walkers, such that even those tasked with carrying Arcadia hardly notice the extra weight. Unfortunately, the exertion from the day is still significant though, and Tookral, in particular, seems relieved when the party passes into the high wooden gates of Westwind Point. A breeze seems to stir past Mirk, Khanne, Volcica and Lykka carrying an odd sound.

The people from all walks of life are interested when the party returns, some with skeptical looks on their faces, others looking rather excited. "Where should we put her?" the woman who'd helped carry Arcadia asks Gwenna, for, even having witnessed the undeniable medical skill of Rukhnis, cannot bring herself to ask the question of the Eurusi woman.

Mirk closes his eyes for a moment, and lets out a slow breath. But once he opens his eyes, it's straight into motion. "Everyone," he says, raising his voice. It's deep, and booming - and it carries. "You need to gather your things and be ready to evacuate. We believe that an attack is inbound; we saw things on the mountainside with our own eyes to make us believe it. Please." He looks to Lykka and Tookral, to reinforce his authority, and holds out a hand to the latter. "I'll need my cloak, the protection of it, if anything happens."

Mirk checked command + propaganda at difficulty 30, rolling 30 higher.

Rukhnis keeps a close eye and occasionally a reassuring and steadying hand on the unconscious countess as the party makes its way back to the village. Having given up her cloak as part of Arcadia's splint, the Eurusi woman is shaking a little with the cold, and the firm set of her jaw may have less to do with grimness than with simply keeping her teeth from chattering. As the volunteer stretcher bearer asks her question, Rukhnis simply answers with a querying look to Gwenna, "Wherever we can have her that is warm and quiet, with no crowds to trouble her." She frowns then, looking truly a little grim now. "And as secure as may be."

Khanne can't say it any better than Mirk, ever. No way. She is content to let him shine in ways she cannot. "If you need help, some of us can assist in moving things."

Volcica makes sure to leave her cloak loose to flutter in the wind, strands of her hair already pulled from their bindings and left this way for that breeze to lift and move. She seems oddly at peace, given the state of her sister-in-law, her head tilted just so to catch the odd echo in the air. Volcica stays by Cady's side now, a calm and reassuring presence.

Tookral removes the Elder Shaman's cloak, and hands it to Mirk. "Thank you, Elder," he says respectfully. He walks futher towards the docks and shouts in a loud voice. "Heed this man's words," he says gesturing at Mirk. "He is a true follower of the Old Ways and one who is beloved by the spirits."

Rysen GM Roll checked command(2) + leadership(3) at difficulty 30, rolling 4 higher.

Gwenna gives a thankful dip of her head to the woman who helped carry Arcadia and smiles. "Thank you, goodwoman, for your help. It was a long walk in the cold without having to carry someone. I am very grateful. Sadly, I am no healer, so I can't answer that, and will defer to our esteemed healer." She turns and smiles kindly to Rukhnis with a nod. "I trust your judgment on the matter, implicitly." And since the woman has her directions from Rukhnis, the Redrain turns her attention then to Mirk and Khanne when they speak, her expression one of agreement. "Please, do as they say, and yes - we will help as best we can."

Gwenna checked charm + propaganda at difficulty 30, rolling 89 higher. Gwenna rolled a critical!

Rosalind looks at the one woman that helped carry Arcadia, but wouldn't talk to Rukhnis,"You could have asked her you know. She is the one that is medically skilled,"her tone kind but firm as she listens to speeches around her.

"You can take him to the Stormspeaker's Lodge," says Lykka nod to Rukhnis. "She will be safe there." As the booming voice of Mirk fills the streets, the people take heed. Many immediately make their way to the dock, to secure their belongings, and keep their loved ones in doors. Tookral's words also produce some effect, but many more are awed by the majesty and presence of the Princess of Farhaven, Gwenna Redrain, whose support of the Elder Shaman sends nearly everyone scrambling to get themselves and their goods to safe places.

Lykka and Volcica are standing a bit ahead of the rest, and coming from the north past the jetty, are a number of masts - galleys and longships - the sort often used by mercenaries out of Port Defiance. A murmur of fear runs through those in the crowd who notice them.

Rukhnis, for her part, doesn't look terribly offended by the woman not speaking to her -- it's entirely possible she's become used to people being a little leery of the obvious foreigner in their midst. She simply nods gratefully to Lykka and agrees, "The lodge, then. She will be brought there." She does give the stretcher-woman a firm look to emphasize this directive, though. Her gaze is briefly troubled by the sight of the approaching ships, but with a shake of her head she dismisses this latest problem to others more fit to deal with it, and prepares to follow along with the wounded countess to the Stormspeaker's lodge.

Mirk settles his cloak about his shoulders, and holds a hand out to forestall Tookral and Lykka. He leans in close to them. "Before things proceed further...There's something you need to know." Underneath all of the bustle, the words are quiet, for their ears alone. "Gutherin has passed away. A spirit attended him in his final hours, but now it has departed. Stand firm, and make him proud. Both of you." He stresses the word 'both.' "There can only be one Stormspeaker, but his life has touched many. Now's the time to demonstrate that."

Volcica looks to the masts, peering into the distance. "I do not know the spirits of the sea as you likely do, Lykka. Do you think they be willing to make the waters of your harbour rough enough they can dock? Perhaps a current, to make progress slow?" She looks from Lykka to Tookral, to Mirk and Khanne. "I believe in our Princess, but even she will need time to broker peace."

Mirk checked charm + leadership at difficulty 15, rolling 43 higher.

Tears fill the eyes of Lykka and Tookral at the words of Lord Mirk Halfshav. "He is passed then," says Lykka with deep sorrow in her voice - but Mirk's further words steel her resolve. A similar fire seems rise in the countenance of Tookral, and he nods to Lykka. The young Stormspeaker turns then to Mirk, to Khanne, and Volcica. "The great spirit said that it come to our aid, did it not? I will make the sacrifice," she says in a voice shaken by emotion, though not broken by it.

Gwenna seems relieved that the people are heeding their words of warning and making their way to safer places. That relief remains as Arcadia will be taken someplace safe, too, and she gives Rukhnis another quick, bright smile. When she turns back, though, she sees the ships. Taking in a breath and sighing it out. "Anything that might be done to slow those ships surely will help. I wish I could help but..." There's a flicker of frustration in her tone. She pushes past it, though, and continues to act as a support to Mirk, when needed. She is no Shaman like the others, nor one able to connect with the Spirits, so she seems quite content to assist.

Khanne lifts a hand to her jaw. It slowly rubs along the jawline, over her lips, then down to her chin. "I... " She looks up at the clouds and bites her lip, then nods to Lykka when she speaks. "It will show them you deserve your place."

Mirk nods his head to Lykka in confirmation, and then steps back, content with having said his piece. Instead, he lingers near Gwenna, and glances aside at her. He has a few quiet words for her, as well, clasping his hands in front of him and watching, and waiting.

Rukhnis's shoulders tense up as she catches the words of the shamans back near the docks, their words blown on the wind, and she sets a brisk pace for the stretcher bearers as if she's very anxious to put them and whatever they attempt to do far behind her. Her dark eyes burn a hole in the ground as she goes, though the hand that reaches out to steady Arcadia is gentle as ever. Once they finally reach the lodge, she orders the arms of the stretcher to be laid such that they rest on two substantial tables, allowing the countess to stay in place and avoid any unnecessary additional movement. With a quiet sigh, she begins tending to the woman's more minor hurts, cleaning and dressing whatever needs it.

Khanne checked mana + occult at difficulty 30, rolling 29 higher.

Volcica checked mana + occult at difficulty 30, rolling 24 higher.

Mirk checked mana + occult at difficulty 30, rolling 47 higher.

Rosalind is watching, looking at everyone around her before her focus on the ships and the water. She looks over to Lykka for a brief moment.

Lykka walks with slow determined steps towards the docks. She removes the charms of bone and wood from her hair. She removes her bracelet of woven hemp, interwoven with stones from the Stormspeaker's Seat - a gift from Gutherin. Her hand is shaking as she raises the bracelet to her lips and kisses it. The wind from the sacred mountain now leagues to the west begins to rise like a gale, and the hair of all who remain outdoors is lifted into the air. Lykka holds the bracelet and the charms before her. Tookral too, closes his eyes, and lifts his voice in an ancient song, though it is lost in the wind. He removes from his belt a wooden box, and lifts the lid. He holds it up to the sky. Lighting forks overhead and the people near Gwenna and Rosalind duck their heads in fear.

Out of Tookral's box, leaves and grains of black earth rise into the wind, swirling through the air along with Lykka's bracelet and charms. Suddenly the water nearest the dock begins to recede from the shore. The incoming ships quickly haul in their sails, but quickly lower oars, and seem intent on pursuing their contract, while Artalia is nowhere to be found.

Rysen GM Roll checked mana(5) + occult(3) at difficulty 15, rolling 32 higher.

Rysen GM Roll checked mana(4) + occult(4) at difficulty 30, rolling 14 higher.

"Come. The ships should be able to see who protects Westwind." Volcica's voice is quiet, but there's an ice in it that few have truly heard. Her own home has never fallen, and it's that strength that she tries to lend Lykka, and Tookral. She starts a soft chant in a language few would know, a hand rising to the bone charms she carries. Her tone is supportive, meant to harmonize with someone else's call. It's clearly not the first time that Volcica has provided a foundation to someone else. A charm is removed, held up to the swirling air.

Mirk remains behind Lykka, but he raises his eyes towards the sky. He speaks a quiet prayer, the words in a language all but lost to time, intermixed with pieces of Northlands Shav and even Arvani. Unlike his customary methods, he makes no sacrifices, lays down no offerings. It's not his place, not in this ritual. Instead, he only raises his hands, palms upturned, one marked with a tattoo of dark blue interlocking loops and spirals. He prays to the spirits of lightning and thunder, of the wind and the rain, and of the skies across Arvum, judging from the words that can be understood.

Reaching into her pouch, Khanne removes a few select items; small shells, a vial of salt, another of water, and ashes that smell of sulphur. She holds these out in the palms of her hands before her. She does not close her eyes, but looks towards the sea and the clouds above. She speaks in a monotone, fluidly, as if it is its own sort of song, though the words are meand to be carried on the winds and not for the ears of others.

Gwenna shivers, first at the lightning overhead and then Volcica's chilled voice. She closes her eyes a moment and murmurs what surely is a prayer; whether to the gods or spirits, or even both, is between her and them. It's a small, earnest thing, but she doesn't linger over it. She watches the others quiet for a few minutes and then shifts her gaze to the people around them, making sure they're nearly out of harm's reach - as much as they can be.

Rukhnis keeps herself busy. Clean all the wounds. Dress them with honey and ointment and bandages. Bind the chest to keep cracked ribs from shifting. Unwrap the hip, clean that wound more thoroughly, apply honey, re-wrap. The work seems to soothe her, and she seems to need it: her gaze is deeply troubled, and sadder still, but nothing lessens the deft gentleness of her touch as she works steadily away on a single small woman while others do the work of saving a village.

The shaman call amid those potent winds. There a great rolls of thunder and freezing hail falls from the sky. From several hundred yards offshore, an enormous spiraling waterspout begins to form, rising into the air, and carrying with it several of the largest galleys. The people of Westwind Point who stand witness gape in shock. As the waterspout seems to grow in size, amid the words and offerings made by the shaman. Even the ships furthest from the spiraling column of water are cast wildly in the now huge and roiling waves, and several are overturned by vast gusts of wind.

After some moments, lighting flashes several times in the clouds near the spout and a final enormous wave rises, and crashes over what remains to the invading fleet. The spout and the winds seems to disperse, though the clouds remain, as does the hail.

Rosalind's hazel green eyes watch amazed as the winds pick up. She smiles a knowin smile however, a secret one to herself. Rosalind wraps her arms around herself, protecting herself from the chill.

Mirk closes his eyes for a few long moments, even after the winds disperse, seemingly content with the afterglow of a ritual. He lets out a slow breath, and then looks to the others. "Favored by storms," he says, looking at both Lykka and Tookral. "I think Westwind Point is in good hands."

Lykka slumps forward, and Tookral reaches out to support her. Steadying herself, she breaks down in tears and it takes her several minutes to catch her breath, but when she does, she comes to those who traveled from Arx. "I cannot thank you enough," she manages to say, though her brown eyes are red, her hair wet, and her body completely exhausted.

Gwenna, too, briefly gapes in shock along with the people of Westwind Point. She has heard tales, surely, but to witness such an incredible grasp of nature? It seems the Redrain forgets the cold for a minute, surely feeling small as nature churns out over the ocean before them. Mirk's words draw her back to the docks and she can't help but smile as her glance falls on Lykka. "Very good hands," she agrees and looks next to Tookral. "With very good support. I am very grateful you opens your doors to us all. Thank you."

Volcica relaxes as the storm starts to wind down, a soft sigh escaping the tall woman. Much like Mirk, she seems to bask a little in the lingering power, the force of the storm even as it fades. "It was our honour, and our pleasure. Westwind is blessed to have the both of you." She casts a glance to Tookral, approving of the support he's giving. "Embracing something new doesn't necessarily mean letting go of the old."

There's noise from beyond the walls -- lightning, thunder, the rush of wind and water, perhaps even distant screams -- but it's a distant thing that seems to have no part of the hush within the lodge. With all her work done as best as it can be under the circumstances, the light dim and soft, Rukhnis simply sits in her usual stillness and silence, her hands now simply holding Arcadia's as she waits to hear news from outside.

It takes several days for even Gwenna to begin to guess at the devastation caused by the storm that wrecked the invading force at Westwind Point. For all the devastated ships, and damage to the dock, nearly everyone who lived in the city was unharmed. The support of those from Arx, and even Tookral and his faction, instills in the people of that region a great confidence, rarely found in the regions of Stormwall for a leader and shaman. Lykka, herself, feels very deeply how much she has learned from those who came to see Gutherin to his final rest, and her own first steps down the path of the Stormspeaker.

The funeral of Gutherin is a wonder to behold, held as it is, honoring both the Old Ways and those of the Pantheon. Prayers to the spirits and the gods are offered, and the show of support of the passing shaman is moving to behold. Finally, a makeshift dock is erected, and ships arrive to take the travelers back to Arx.

Eager to keep her promise, Lykka tells Mirk and Khanne, that she will travel to Arx, or welcome them to Westwind Point at anytime to advise her on her path, so that she might create and fulfill the new covenant between spirits and her people.