Editing The Delight
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Take off the mask, and see this ship of horrors for what it is. The Delight is a black brig with black sails, hewn from the living, dripping timber of the [[Bleeding Forest]].<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Aboard_the_Delight|Aboard the Delight|Fallen London|}} ''"Something like sap oozes from the vessel's wooden planks. [...] Hewn from the Bleeding Forest, the lumber still bleeds. Masked zailors leave footprints in the muck. [...] You cannot touch the rails, the cabin walls, even the ropes, without staining your hands crimson."''</ref> No wonder she leaves blood in her wake.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Study_the_smouldering_fleet|Study the smouldering fleet|Fallen London|}} ''"Now you see the blood being pumped in fresh gouts from the brig, as another ship might pump out bilge-water, spreading the crimson tide in its wake."''</ref> Perhaps the sails are alive, too.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Look_aloft|Look aloft|Fallen London|}} ''"No breeze is required to blow the Delight on its course. Its sails routinely fill themselves, expanding and deflating, like massive lungs gasping to breathe."''</ref> | Take off the mask, and see this ship of horrors for what it is. The Delight is a black brig with black sails, hewn from the living, dripping timber of the [[Bleeding Forest]].<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Aboard_the_Delight|Aboard the Delight|Fallen London|}} ''"Something like sap oozes from the vessel's wooden planks. [...] Hewn from the Bleeding Forest, the lumber still bleeds. Masked zailors leave footprints in the muck. [...] You cannot touch the rails, the cabin walls, even the ropes, without staining your hands crimson."''</ref> No wonder she leaves blood in her wake.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Study_the_smouldering_fleet|Study the smouldering fleet|Fallen London|}} ''"Now you see the blood being pumped in fresh gouts from the brig, as another ship might pump out bilge-water, spreading the crimson tide in its wake."''</ref> Perhaps the sails are alive, too.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Look_aloft|Look aloft|Fallen London|}} ''"No breeze is required to blow the Delight on its course. Its sails routinely fill themselves, expanding and deflating, like massive lungs gasping to breathe."''</ref> | ||
The [[Presbyterate]] commissioned the Delight and ordained its Commander to be direct enforcers of the Prester's will.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Look_closer_at_the_Delight|Look closer at the Delight|Fallen London|}} ''"When the Prester sat down to His table – so the story goes – He bade His cup-bearer to wait always at His right hand. But the table was too long. He needed a second cup-bearer to bring wine from the other end. Larger, stronger than the first, in order to carry the wine. [...] And this second cup-bearer He bade to wait at His left hand, until such times as He saw fit to send someone on errands. To the market and so forth. [...] Cup-bearer is a rough translation. Verger. Valet. Butler. Sacristan. Call it whatever you like, but you don't want to be brought back from the market."''</ref> She is armed with the most dangerous weapons of the immortal empire: she can summon the [[Wax-Wind]] against the Prester's enemies,<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Given_to_the_Wax-Wind|Given to the Wax-Wind|Fallen London|}} ''"The Wax-Wind blows from the Elder Continent, and today it blows towards you. [...] the Delight vanishes from view as your ship is engulfed."''</ref><ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Speak_with_the_Youthful_Naturalist_(Battling_the_Wax-Wind)|Speak with the Youthful Naturalist (Battling the Wax-Wind)|Fallen London|}} ''""It has my scent [...] I've seen it hunt before. Across the Listening Desert outside Nidah. It won't stop until it strips my bones. Until it renders me into tallow! Where do you think all that wax comes from?""''</ref> and in the unlikely event that this fails, she can also summon flocks of [[Bestiary#Bat|bats]] and birds to capture a target alive - though perhaps those trying to protect her target will not be so lucky. For the bats and birds are not singing; they are shrieking and squawking and ripping and tearing.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Point_a_spy-glass_at_the_cloud_(Without_Delighted)|Point a spy-glass at the cloud (Without Delighted)|Fallen London|}} ''"Not clouds. Bats. Thousands. Millions? Enough to be mistaken for a storm. [...] There are also zee-birds. You've never seen so many flock together. Now you can hear their cries. [...] Louder, louder, as you zail closer, and a familiar scent gradually climbs into your nostrils: blood."''</ref> The Delight carries a store of Traitor Tongues as well | The [[Presbyterate]] commissioned the Delight and ordained its Commander to be direct enforcers of the Prester's will.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Look_closer_at_the_Delight|Look closer at the Delight|Fallen London|}} ''"When the Prester sat down to His table – so the story goes – He bade His cup-bearer to wait always at His right hand. But the table was too long. He needed a second cup-bearer to bring wine from the other end. Larger, stronger than the first, in order to carry the wine. [...] And this second cup-bearer He bade to wait at His left hand, until such times as He saw fit to send someone on errands. To the market and so forth. [...] Cup-bearer is a rough translation. Verger. Valet. Butler. Sacristan. Call it whatever you like, but you don't want to be brought back from the market."''</ref> She is armed with the most dangerous weapons of the immortal empire: she can summon the [[Wax-Wind]] against the Prester's enemies,<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Given_to_the_Wax-Wind|Given to the Wax-Wind|Fallen London|}} ''"The Wax-Wind blows from the Elder Continent, and today it blows towards you. [...] the Delight vanishes from view as your ship is engulfed."''</ref><ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Speak_with_the_Youthful_Naturalist_(Battling_the_Wax-Wind)|Speak with the Youthful Naturalist (Battling the Wax-Wind)|Fallen London|}} ''""It has my scent [...] I've seen it hunt before. Across the Listening Desert outside Nidah. It won't stop until it strips my bones. Until it renders me into tallow! Where do you think all that wax comes from?""''</ref> and in the unlikely event that this fails, she can also summon flocks of [[Bestiary#Bat|bats]] and birds to capture a target alive - though perhaps those trying to protect her target will not be so lucky. For the bats and birds are not singing; they are shrieking and squawking and ripping and tearing.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Point_a_spy-glass_at_the_cloud_(Without_Delighted)|Point a spy-glass at the cloud (Without Delighted)|Fallen London|}} ''"Not clouds. Bats. Thousands. Millions? Enough to be mistaken for a storm. [...] There are also zee-birds. You've never seen so many flock together. Now you can hear their cries. [...] Louder, louder, as you zail closer, and a familiar scent gradually climbs into your nostrils: blood."''</ref> The Delight carries a store of Traitor Tongues as well;<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Put_a_stop_to_these_proceedings|Put a stop to these proceedings|Fallen London|}} ''"Along the walls, beneath the instruments, ceremonial urns brim with blood. But not just blood. Severed tongues twist in the clots like great earthworms. The Masked Corsairs remove one with a hook. They rest it, squirming, on a silver plate, in order to carry it into the captain's cabin."''</ref> these parasites devour and replace their host's tongue, forcing them to give away all their secrets.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/The_Traitor_Tongue_Speaks|The Traitor Tongue Speaks|Fallen London|}} ''"Blood wells from the Youthful Naturalist's lips. His teeth are crimson. Inside his mouth, his new tongue is installing itself. Engulfing the old, consuming it down to the root, nibbling until its fangs are anchored. The Second Sacristan leans forward as the tongue begins to speak. It will betray the Naturalist's most secret thoughts."''</ref> If left unchecked, a Traitor Tongue will burrow into the host's body<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Be_admitted_into_a_deeper_confidence|Be admitted into a deeper confidence|Fallen London|}} ''"The Accommodating Footman places a large jar [...] on a table. There is something dead inside, with many teeth. If it weren't black and rancid, it would look like a bloated pink slug. "Some call them Traitor Tongues. They come from Cline. They are tools wielded by the College of Mortality. [...] And they burrow.""''</ref> and begin to grow their regrets into a shell.<ref name=":1">{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Administering_the_Prester%27s_Justice|Administering the Prester's Justice|Fallen London|}} ''"The Shrouded Captive would scream, but his tongue is slipping down his throat [...] You hold open his skin where his shell would attach to his spine. They have hooked something inside [...] They pull it, slowly, from the incision, and his tongue continues to disappear. His tongue is no mere tongue. It is the squirming thing: the front end, as it were, if the Masked Corsairs have caught the back."''</ref> ''This'' is what the Presbyterate does to its captives to make them talk.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Ask_about_the_Youthful_Naturalist_(Imprisoned_in_Dripping_Amber)|Ask about the Youthful Naturalist (Imprisoned in Dripping Amber)|Fallen London|}} ''"My guess is that he knows something they wanna know. They've got techniques in Nidah for making people talk. Nasty techniques. They'll keep him locked up good and tight until then."''</ref> | ||
The ship is suffused with thick and smoky incense made from a substance called Saviour's Sap, which apparently comes from a species of poppy, and is known to induce visions and inspire devotion.<ref name=":2">{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Speak_with_the_Unlikely_Florist_(On_the_Cathedral_Steps)|Speak with the Unlikely Florist (On the Cathedral Steps)|Fallen London|}} ''"Then she goes on to explain that Saviour's Sap is a nickname for various crimson resins from the Elder Continent. Entirely unscientific. One can never be certain which plant is being referenced. His Lordship, however, is probably writing about Papaver longinus. "The fumes are incredibly strong. Known to induce visions and inspire devotion. [...] Impossible to cultivate, but very good for incense. It's favoured by certain religious orders for all of the obvious reasons." She wanted to personally warn you not to inhale any. Well, any more. Nobody knows how long the effects can last."''</ref> The air smells of roses - and carnage.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Breathe_deeply|Breathe deeply|Fallen London|}} ''"You would gasp for fresh air, but there is no fresh air. Only more cloying rose-scented vapour. And underneath the incense, when a rare breeze lifts the curtain for a fleeting instant: carnage."''</ref> | The ship is suffused with thick and smoky incense made from a substance called Saviour's Sap, which apparently comes from a species of poppy, and is known to induce visions and inspire devotion.<ref name=":2">{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Speak_with_the_Unlikely_Florist_(On_the_Cathedral_Steps)|Speak with the Unlikely Florist (On the Cathedral Steps)|Fallen London|}} ''"Then she goes on to explain that Saviour's Sap is a nickname for various crimson resins from the Elder Continent. Entirely unscientific. One can never be certain which plant is being referenced. His Lordship, however, is probably writing about Papaver longinus. "The fumes are incredibly strong. Known to induce visions and inspire devotion. [...] Impossible to cultivate, but very good for incense. It's favoured by certain religious orders for all of the obvious reasons." She wanted to personally warn you not to inhale any. Well, any more. Nobody knows how long the effects can last."''</ref> The air smells of roses - and carnage.<ref>{{Citation|https://fallenlondon.wiki/wiki/Breathe_deeply|Breathe deeply|Fallen London|}} ''"You would gasp for fresh air, but there is no fresh air. Only more cloying rose-scented vapour. And underneath the incense, when a rare breeze lifts the curtain for a fleeting instant: carnage."''</ref> |