[Second day of Week Two/Three Mingle]

[professorwolf]

Hello, sorry, Lyall here. Do all of you recall that vision I had of the dividing wall between us during the last month or so of liminal space? How it was a very literal sign of what was to come?

It's happened again. I had another one. And it's being about as persistent as the first one, so I'm guessing it's important. I can share it directly if anyone would like me to, but in summary, I believe there's something out there beyond the reefs. I saw dark water, well below the level of the reefs, and a large, pale, diseased something. All I saw was a wall of flesh, that was then obscured by bubbles, and then it went even darker. Like it dove away.

I don't know if we need to find it to stop it, or find it to help it. But I do think we need to find it, if just to keep it from coming here.

... also, I am still making earplugs, for those who are finding the noise difficult to bear. I'm not sure if it will help entirely, but it can't hurt. If anyone wants to try and distribute them to people who trust them and might need them, please let me know, I'll get you a few pairs.

Comments

[theflyingone]

Not in metal spheres, just weighed down by them. They are smaller than a head, solid iron with no opening... I can show you better than I can describe. The Cornu does have some, but so might the Pulao, if our ship is meant to be a model of what supplies ships carry.

[ He leads him down the beach. He hardly suspects the Professor is referring to suffering from lycanthropy the disease, as he seems to have no visible symptoms and be totally in control, a master of himself like the scholars Altaïr grew up with. Lyall must be referring to an actual supernatural ability. This might have come as a shock, except that Altaïr already knows two vampires and several cannibals. He asks matter-of-factly, ]

Your lycanthropy is not communicable, is it?

[ He eventually stops at a shallow, freshly dug hole below the tide line. Gulls circle curiously. Already the tide is threatening to wash away the evidence, the thin layer of sand he'd thrown back onto the scene moistening. He grabs a nearby piece of flat driftwood and begins scraping the sand off. Antibiotics are after his time, so he takes care with touching dead bodies. Two round shots start to reveal themselves first. Cannonballs are after his time as well, so he had not yet put two and two together regarding the large guns on deck. ]

[professorwolf]

Oh, yes, those are cannonballs. All right. They were probably to weight him down in case the tide washed him up again.

[He shakes his head, falls in beside and half a step behind Altair, and answers the question readily:]

It is communicable, but only intentionally. I can't turn anyone by accident, there's a-- well, a rather messy ritual, I suppose you might call it, that has to take place. And it isn't always successful. Most of the time the other person winds up dead, instead. I've never actually done it before, nor do I plan to.

[theflyingone]

[ Well that's a relief. There's a dead body on the beach and a few more missing, shady sailors, jumpy native leaders, and a large sea monster that's probably the source of mind-control wailing every night, but at least he doesn't have to worry about accidentally becoming a wolf. ]

Tube...? [ he mutters, going off the Latin and Greek he knows. ] The deck guns. Yes. I had thought they were for Greek fire...

[ He brushes most of the sand off the corpse of a male sailor equipped with a pistol and a small sword. The gulls above circle faster. ]

When people went missing, I thought they were taken by whatever is producing that Song. But such a precise kill—see the stab wound in the back of the neck there—and leaving the body on land instead of way out to sea, it seems more like the work of humans. [ He would know a great deal about stabbing people in the neck. ] But why these weights... This is the only body on the island, it is not like the others...

[professorwolf]

Yes, I can smell oil from the knife. Metal, so probably not one of the mermaids, you're right.

[Lyall glances over at Altair, looking up from sniffing with interest, walking a circle around the body.]

What others?

[theflyingone]

The other missing people. Search for them all you like, they are not on the island.

[ He stares intently at a spot of sand several feet away, then turns to Lyall as he seems to pull himself out of a reverie. ]

Can you pick up the trails?

[professorwolf]

Regrettably, there aren't any trails. Mostly likely that means whoever it was left by way of the ocean, since I can't track across water like that, which suggests someone from the Pulao.

[theflyingone]

By the ocean, yes, but...

[ He gives him a long, searching look. ]

Professor, I am going to ask you to keep a secret of mine as if your life depended on it. It most likely does. [ He does not mean to make it sound like a threat, but his grim manner is not comforting. ] I would not tell you, except it is a matter of safety, as it marks the beach in particular as a dangerous place to be. Will you do this?

[professorwolf]

[He blinks, but nods.]

Certainly. I promise to keep it to myself, whatever it is. Though if there's danger in particular, we might want to find a way to warn other people without divulging your secret.

[theflyingone]

That is my intent. Telling my secret puts my life and others' lives in danger, now and in the future. But everyone still needs to be warned.

[ He sighs pensively. ]

I can see the trails using a... sense. I am still not sure how I can tell everyone that these people were attacked on land and dragged to sea. You see why the beach is a convenient place for the killer? So close to the water where the bodies were all disposed, save this one.

[professorwolf]

Mm. Yes, it would be good to warn people of that-- though I'm not sure I'm convinced one person did all of it, unless your sense has some sort of proof of that.

[Lyall takes the sense in stride. He's a werewolf, and he's a reincarnated one at that. Why would he scoff at a sixth sense for seeing the path of a murderer? He considers for a moment.]

Well, if you can't explain it yourself as something you personally can do, tell everyone my nose did it, for you. I smelled blood on the sand, being pulled out to sea, perhaps. It won't be useful for infiltrators, of course, but a lot of the investigators are fairly well acquainted with my olfactory powers.

[theflyingone]

No, I do not know how many we are dealing with. The killer—or killers—did not shed blood, and I need more of a lead than just these remains to track.

You need not describe the trails as precisely as I would either. Their existence and rough locations should be enough.

[ He lingers in a pause, trying to figure out what it is he feels the need to say. Finally it comes to him. ]

Thank you.

[professorwolf]

[Lyall flashes him a brief, but warm, smile. He can forgive the earlier lecture, he supposes. The fellow does seem to care, at least, and is polite enough now.]

You're welcome. We're all in this together, it seems the least I can do to try and keep the others safe.

[theflyingone]

[ He does not smile back, because he is a man who rarely smiles, but he nods solemnly. ]

We should be doing that even if we haven't been captured and thrown together. I would not press someone to risk their safety of course, but we should look out for one another.