Duck Expedition: Pot Luck [Open]

[Aardwalden]

TIMESTAMP: Ash 28th, 122
NOTES: Open Thread

- - -

Ash 28th, Late Morning, 122

The day prior, Aardwalden had mentioned he would bring over some rocks from the hills for seating, and help with a fire. Anything hunted, foraged, or rationed could be cooked. Anyone who would like to contribute would be welcome, and they were encouraged to bring anything they could hunt, fish, or forage. If anyone had an instrument, or had a way with singing, they were encouraged to make merry!

Ever since he came to shore, Aardwalden had seen some shuffling among the camp. Many expeditioners branched out and made use of their talents in other ways, and while this venture was painfully disorganized, everyone seemed to have a role to play that they knew how to fill. Aardwalden was thus impressed at how smoothly events had transpired.

True to his word, the gnome spent much of the time following his waking bringing over large, flat stones he’d excavated from the hollow in the hill he was building, a structure that was already starting to take shape with a set of steps leading up to it in the hillside to the west. Shelter seemed like a priority. If a magical storm chanced upon them, it seemed there was nowhere to hide. That, and a reasonably sheltered lab would help to study the environment and get to the bottom of why they were summoned here.

Arranging the brownish rocks in a wide, circular formation, he made sure there was enough room for everyone he could see. In the center, he built a pit of more stones, piling on branches he collected from the jungle line. With a wave of his hand, he encouraged a mote of flame to take new light over the fire, and it sprung to life. As others arrived, he waved and greeted them with a smile.

The setup wasn’t far from the shoreline. The waves could be heard crashing upon the sands downwind, but the sunny, late morning air was calm and peaceful. Warm from the shining sun. As long as Aardwalden remained around them, even the sand seemed inclined to stay put at his quiet, respectful request. No sand should get trapped in the eye or find itself in food today!

Taking a seat, Aardwalden waited for the group to come around, to see what they could find and bring to the group for food. Who would even make a show to this pot luck? The small statue of a gnome with faintly glimmering, blue eyes hoped to absorb the social air and get to know his fellow expeditioners and their aims more properly. His clothes were by now somewhat ragged from toiling in the earth, but he didn’t seem to mind. As others arrived, he waved and smiled to them politely. "Please introduce yourselves,," he told the arrivals as they came rather kindly.

- - -

[Destyn]

Pot Luck

28 Ash, 122

Destyn had never been at sea before meeting the Duck. Though he had spent the vast majority of his life in the Wilds of the North, the circuit taken by his whilom clan did not broach the coasts. They were freshwater Fae, who wove between lakes, rivers and streams. He knew banks, but no true beaches. The energy was so different and, in an entirely different way than the forests he'd traversed in the North or the Jungle that had been his home on the Duck, it was teeming with the electricity of life.

Upon their unceremonious dumping from the Duck, Destyn had seen about helping those of his shipmates who needed aid to get ashore. But shortly thereafter, his wanderlust drew him afield of the other adventurers to explore the shoreline and its flora and fauna. In truth, he was still a bit overwhelmed by the size and scope of the congregation deposited by the Duck. New people were not as easy to acclimate to as new plants or animals. Their priorities were, to his mind, byzantine and often incomprehensible. So, the bulk of his first three days off the Duck was devoted to exploring an altogether new biome: The beach.

He'd learned from the ship that ocean water was not for drinking, though it was difficult to resist. He'd never seen so much water in his life and it looked so crisp and delicious. Besides, there were tons of animals living in it. Surely they drank the briny water- unless there were somehow pockets of freshwater within the salt, but that seemed absurd. So, despite of the warnings, he did drink the salt water. And he did vomit it back up along with that morning's breakfast. Lesson learned, that.

But as the days wore on, although there was no paucity of places to explore, he didn't want to flit too far from the people with whom he'd travelled. With two sets of wings on his back and a well-earned knack for surviving in the wilderness from having been raised in its midst, it would have been easy to just lose himself to this realm, but no. He recalled the lesson the Duck had taught him... its insistence that he make overtures with the other people she had brought. Though it remained enigmatic, they had some common purpose that brought them together and so he knew he would have to swallow down his fears and hope that, unlike so much seawater, they would stay down.

The heavy beat of his four, dragonfly-like wings, rumbled over the small, stone man as Destyn descended. The fellow was well anchored enough as not to be overly swayed by the resultant gale force gusts created by the flight of the Fae, but sand was stirred up and small, light items would be blown over by the son of summer. He was only wearing a pair of worn, canvas breaches that ended just below his knees. Although his body looked human for the most part, there were, of course, the wings and the spine from which they protruded looked to be made of a dark, heavy wood. Were it not attached to a boy, it might have looked like a regular tree branch.

"Hello, little man of stone." Destyn grinned, and placed down net he'd woven himself that was filled with a diverse array of live crabs, lobsters and other mid-sized shellfish he'd caught amongst the rocks at the bottom of a nearby cliff. "I have found the biggest, most juicy bugs I have ever, in my life, seen! Would you look at the size of these?" Although he spoke Common with fluency, there was a light accent indicating it was not his first tongue. All of his S sounds were unvoiced, and his Z sounded like an S. His 'Th' sound was lighter on the tongue, pronouncing it closer to just a hard T sound than the native speaker. Additionally, his sentence structure tended to be a bit unusual.

"My name is Destynrael Dromlach’darach de Clann na Feithidí Uisce." He shrugged one shoulder, "Or only Destyn, if you prefer." He wasn't sure whether the man's tongue was stone like his skin, but he imagined that might have been a lot for heavy-laden lips to attempt. "But who are you, though?" His eyes darted to his net, as one of the smaller crabs slipped free of its prison.

"Oh no you do not!" He snatched it up and blithely bit it in half with a loud crunch, and munched noisily on it as he turned his attention back to the tiny host.

Pot Luck

[Charlie]

That these beaches had not once been fished before suited an amateur angler like Charlie incredibly well, all things considered. It meant there was a great abundance of fish that lingered close to shore that weren't particularly discerning when it came to food. The fish bit down on Charlie's hook regardless of the presence of actual bait, and bit with such regularity that it mattered remarkably little if any one particular fish got away. This was fantastic, as Charlie was actually quite terrible at reeling them in. That did little to dampen his spirits, of course. In fact, it made him feel even more accomplished when he actually managed to catch something.

The fish were some species of mackerel, but had grown so large in their isolation from humans that they seemed worthy of a new name entirely. No wonder they'd been so hard to land, Charlie reasoned with himself, unwilling of unable to blame his own inexperience for his lass than resounding success. Besides, four fish was a damn fine day's work by most metrics, so Charlie was proud of himself.

Charlie's fishing kit came with a flat stone board for prepping the cuts, and Charlie managed to not completely mangle the fillets. They weren't perfect, but the loss of usable meat was minimal and he'd managed to pluck out all those pesky bones fish thought they needed. Then he hacked off the heads and tossed them into the bay, both to encourage more wildlife to come around and also because fish heads were disgusting and Charlie was civilized.

He arrived to the potluck first with the fish fillets, then disappeared again once he'd set them down on one of the stones serving as seats. When he returned the second time, Charlie was carrying a great keg of light beer with some difficulty. He set it down away from the growing flame, doing his best to keep the beer cool. It was never going to be ice cold, at least not without some magical intervention, but Charlie had taken some precautions to avoid gulping down lukewarm beer.

Charlie removed the tapper from his pocket and tapped it in place with the flat end of his hatchet. It took a good few swings, but Charlie managed to tap the keg without losing too much of that fermented gold.

"Name's Charlie." He said, lopsided grin on his face. For having spent nearly a month on the island, Charlie's clothes remained in incredible shape. There was hardly a loose thread among his entire outfit, but he wasn't exactly dressed for the weather, opting for a white button down shirt and slim-fitting dark pants. His long blond hair was similarly well taken care of, and Charlie still smelled subtly of cologne. Being on vacation was no excuse to stop taking pride in his physical appearance, it seemed.

"Drink as much as you like, I've got more if we run out!" Charlie offered, cheerful as he pulled himself a mugful of beer and took a swig before sitting down beside his fillets.

Cracking open a small case, Charlie plucked out a small jar of cumin and thyme leaves and begun seasoning the fish. Even Charlie knew the value of spice when cooking, even if he wasn't making anything of gourmet caliber.

He stopped when he caught Destyn biting a live crab in two out of the corner of his eye, and Charlie swiveled around to look at him with no small amount of confusion. " ...Don't think you're supposed to eat the shell." Then again, maybe it was a delicacy. It wasn't something the Mesmer was interested in trying firsthand, in any case.

[Imogen]

The third arrival of the night was an Orkhan woman. Imogen was dressed in a light tunic, breeches and worn boots--coated with mud, and then again with sand--and wore nothing else save the opal ring on her left hand and the golden sun ring on her right.

Upon hearing that the mysterious stoneborn gnome had suggested a communal meal, her first instinct had been to hunt. Much of the company had devoted themselves to fishing in the few days since the Duck's unceremonious departure, but Imogen had never much excelled at the sport. Hunting larger prey had gone much better. By taking lemur-form and traversing the canopy, she could approach most terrestrial creatures without occasioning alarm, and then a single spear from above would do the trick.

Today, however, she'd been overtaken by a particular mood, and found herself spending hours scouring the nearby forest for fruit-bearing trees. It hadn't taken long to spot a few groves, each bristling with fruits the likes of which she'd never seen. Even if they weren't quite as lavishly appointed as the ever-fruiting trees of western Ecith had been, it hadn't taken too long to gather an appropriate amount She had spent several happy hours scampering up into the canopies and loading the bounty of the harvest into a large cloth sack.

The sack followed closely behind her, hung from a floating quarterstaff which was, for once, not even a bit on fire. In truth, it wasn't meant to be a sack- it was part of a collapsible tent Imogen had stashed in her locker, and which she hadn't bothered to set up. Right now, it was full to the brim with seedpods and strange, colorful fruits. There were yellow-skinned and lumpy pitahayas; there were strange, long green-bean looking things the size of your arm (or Carina's arm, anyway); smooth orange fruits which looked kinda like peppers but weren't even a bit spicy; huge red and orange berries; and scaled red-brown fruits which looked almost like exceptionally juicy pinecones.

"Hello, my hearties, it's Imogen Ward!" Imogen didn't bother trying to do a pirate drawl, and her voice was about as high and clear as any Orkhan's got. She had a crisp Zaichaeri accent, and her tusks did not seem to impede her Common at all. "I've got ten pounds of jungle fruit with me from eight different kinds of tree, almost guaranteed to be safe to eat, or at least too slow-acting a poison to have killed me as yet!" Problematically, Imogen cooked most of her food on her own sword, and the nova-fire was quite effective at purging toxins.

"And here I see we've got you, Aard, a handsome young fae'thalen lad, and..." Imogen's eyes went wide as she saw Charlie. "...no, that can't be."

[Avamande]

Avamande had been quite busy experimenting over the past three days, and they were finally ready to put their theories into practice. They had thought to refine the technique further, but they had been summoned, and now was the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party. For this, several things were required; libations and entertainment, of course, but comfort and restoratives were just as vital. They had spent hours etching pictographs into the sand as they tweaked and tested their designs, preparing for something truly exceptional for the party.

Wordlessly, they strode into the middle of the burgeoning potluck, and began to focus. They had used some of their precious little scrivener's ink and parchment to serve as a permanent focus for this particular spell, having decided that this gathering was the ideal to display it. The largest ward that Avamande had ever created was slowly taking shape above their heads, a massive dome the likes of which they doubted any mage had created before. After all, why would they bother when they could just go indoors?

The ward was tasked against the more odious aspects of nature itself, but in a limited fashion that had taken much trial and error. All beneath its embrace felt the light and heat of the sun diminish, but not go out, placing a segment of the beach in perpetual shade. It had also been tasked against great amounts of wind and rain, but not entirely, such that a massive squall would tear into the arcane shelter as a light drizzle. Finally, with the works of Negation finished, Avamande worked the final touch. A gentle pull from Kinetics rippled through the air itself, forcing a gentle breeze to pick up.

Neither the heat of noon nor the horror of seaborne storm would disrupt them now.

"I am Avamande Val'Istar," they said courteously after they had finished their willworking, bowing lightly. Ignoring Imogen's shock at the sight of Charlie, the Hytori looked at the man with a flat expression. "Charles, do tell me when the first of your barrels run dry. I do have another trick up my sleeve."

[Kaiko Marina]

Kaiko had caused the gnome to get hurt the previous day and had spent most of her time in the water away from the others to prevent from harming anyone else. But now it was time to stop and put the duck first. She did, however, watch the man with dragonfly wings fish with a net; she also noticed when a human caught a large fish. It seemed that she would need to be more creative for the potluck. So she went into the deeper waters and caught some jellyfish. Not all jellyfish were food but some everyone could eat. She just had to pop off the stringy bits and cut it up to be fried on the fire.

Kaiko would get dressed in her fancier sailor getup, grab her instruments and walk to the picnic area. One thing she noticed was that the ocean was not visible. Another was the amount of people. She noticed the boy eating a crab. No, that is how she eats crab. Regular people don't eat things like she does. She learned that as a kid. Maybe he wasn't a regular person.

She sat a large clam shell down which had the cooked jellyfish strips in it. "Kaiko Marina is my name. But you already met me. By the way, how's the hand?" Kaiko would say to the gnome and take a crab from the net. Smile and bite it just like the dragonfly boy had done. "I brought some jellyfish for you all to try. It's one of my favorite foods." She was forgetting something.

O that's it "if you have a favorite sea song let me know. I should be able to play it." She looked up to see the dome form around them. That was cool. If he can refill a burral with rum she wanted to learn the trick.

[Aardwalden]

TIMESTAMP: Ash Xth, 122
NOTES: -

- - -

A raucous began first with the simple beat of wings, a destined man descending upon the earth. At first the sands blew, but Aard stayed them with a calm whisper. Other objects were not so lucky, but the gnome did not complain. He simply smiled. “What wonderful sea ‘bugs’ you’ve brought. I am sure the others will delight,” he told Destyn with a cheery laugh

“Destynrael Dromlach’Darach de Clann na Feithidi Uisce,” Aard repeated back to the Fae. He was no stranger to those long and winding, complex names and titles. “I am Aardwalden. My family name is so fargone as to be lost.”

Destyn seemed to Aard to be a force of nature.

Next was the odd, blonde-haired fellow carrying a basket of fish - he did not stay long, so Aard waited to address him on his return. “An excellent reserve!” stated Aard upon seeing the kegs. It seemed amusing to him every time he hosted those beings of flesh, that he could not partake. Almost sad.

“Charlie,” repeated Aardwalden. “And I am Aard. A pleasure.” The stone statue went stone still for a spell. “I certainly will,” he joked with a laugh to himself, watching Charlie cook. He seemed - to Aard - to be a creature of comforts.

Aardwalden had not yet set eyes upon Imogen, as an Orkhan, but he knew of her race. “And you must be Imogen. A delight to see you in your own visage,” spoke Aardwalden with endless platitudes for all. “I see the morning has bore fruit.” He paused. “And pine eggs.”

Hearing Imogen’s point on poison, Aardwalden realized he’d made a not insignificant oversight: some of the foods here at this Pot Luck might be poison. “Do we have a medic?” he asked the forming crowd. “If someone does keel with rockgut.”

Just then, Aardwalden smelled the scent of ozone. Powerful magic moved above their heads, barely visible as a shimmer in the air. The gnome could feel the effects of the climate control immediately, the wind squanching with complaint upon the sheltering walls of a great ward. “How curious,” said the gnome, touching his chin with wonder. Then, the air within bristled in a mechanical way, complaining that it had been pushed along as if rudely.

“Avamande, is this your work? How you impress upon me!” said the gnome with a jittery laugh. “Bojangles and scavers, that ward is a marvel! It seems you have no end of surprises.”

Turning to Kaiko upon their arrival, Aardwalden waved. “Oh, a hello hello there to you, Kaiko!” he said, holding his hand up. A finger was missing, the stone around the edges of the knuckle melted most gruesomely. “I will find a way to grow it back in time. I’ve asked much of the Elements. Don’t fret - soon I will be good as new!”

Nodding, Aardwalden tilted his head curiously at the delicacy she’d brought. “Even jams come alive upon the sea, it seems. A shame there is no buttered toast to spread them upon. I am sure they are quite sweet.”

Aardwalden squeezed his chin. “Hm, you know I’ve heard many a song, but so little have I heard its title.”

- - -

[Destyn]

Pot Luck

28 Ash, 122

Destyn paused his munching and blinked blankly at Charlie, greenish grey tomalley dripping from a mouth slightly agape.

"But it is crunchy, though..." His mouth, still full of meat and exoskeleton, was a bit muffled in so saying, but thereafter he resumed his chewing happily as others began to arrive. His eyes widened as the one who called herself Imogen approached and fair towered over the Fae. He gulped down his crab and looked up at her with wide eyes, waving with his crab-bearing hand- its remaining limp limbs swinging with the motion of his gesture.

"Wow! You are very tall, Imogen Ward! You are like a wingless Avialae, except I bet you would not be such a poor and sloppy flier with no regard for your sky neighbours. Thank you for bringing fruit and also for saying that I am handsome. That is very nice to impart. You are, I think, also handsome!" He beamed, and offered the rest of his crab up to Imogen. "Want some?"

He grinned at the arrival of a familiar face.

"Hullo, Avamande!" He'd met them on the ship some days, or perhaps it had been weeks, earlier when The Duck urged him out of his jungle to meet a few of the other more reclusive members of the crew. He grinned and offered a friendly nod to the ostensible Rathari who claimed a crab from the collection he'd brought.

"You are, to me, well met, Aardwalden. My family is lost, but their name remains my keepsake. I thank you for organising this gathering. It is most, I think, thoughtful!" He offered in his lilting, lightly-accented Common.

"I will, I think, try a... What is this called? Jaily fish? What a silly name." He'd never seen such a fish in the lakes, rivers or streams he'd known in the North. But then, he was new to saltwater and had learnt the hard way that it was an altogether different biome. And not good for drinking, except perhaps for jailyfishes.

Pot Luck

[Imogen]

Review

Closing out an abandoned thread due to Aardwalden's sad departure

Avamande

Lore: 8 lores

Points: 10xp

Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: None

Notes: Perhaps it is for the best that Avamande never learns the real meaning of potlucks

~~~~~

Imogen

Lore: 8 lore

Points: 10xp, may not be used for magic.

Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: None

Notes: Hungry ork ):

~~~~~

Aardwalden

Lore: 8 lore

Points: 10xp, may not be used for magic.

Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: None

Notes: Sorry you couldn't stick around, hope things go well in the future!

~~~~~

Charlie

Lore: 8 lore

Points: 10xp, may not be used for magic.

Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: None

Notes: Charlie's lucky to escape with his life- this time.

~~~~~

Kaiko

Lore: 8 lore

Points: 10xp, may not be used for magic.

Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: None

Notes: We'll never know now, for sure, what shanties she'd have played

~~~~~

Destyn

Lore: 8 lore

Points: 10xp, may not be used for magic.

Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: None

Notes: Last but not least, and it's definitely for the best that Destyn didn't acquire a taste for jellyfish, given how crab-fishing went