Up in the rigging, Ionas had his hands full. He had spotted the ballista and called down the warning, but it had been too late. The bolts had struck, and now he had try to prevent the fire in the superstructure from spreading.
The cursed rain may have been helping them keep the fire under control, but it hadn’t prevented the problem. Ionas had to make his way quickly around the balloon, taking risks that only someone as experienced and as dextrous as he could pull off. If the fire spread or caused the balloon to rupture, then he knew the potentially disastrous consequences.
How the balloon worked was something that he had some understanding of but wasn’t fully clear on. He knew, however, that if the balloon sprang a leak, whatever it was that was keeping the ship afloat would escape and they’d soon crash to the ground.
The attempt to control the flame was hampered by the fact that it was his crow’s nest that was bearing the brunt of the fire. He had to get out of there without becoming a victim of the flame himself but then get back in with water, blankets, anything that could save the area.
He now had a soaking wet towel that he used to douse the flame. He set to work whapping them down, using the dual effect of the water to not only sap the heat from the fire but simultaneously suffocate it as well. Inch by inch, he was taking control of the fire, snuffing it out and reducing the risk of a catastrophic event.
However up ahead, he spied his journal, his log of all the ships he had spotted, where, when, and the circumstances he had spotted them in. A section of the fire was getting far too close for comfort, but being on the other side, he couldn’t risk charging through lest he get burned himself.
He made a beeline, dousing only the fires that he needed to be able to make a path towards the journal. However, it was too late. The journal had already caught fire. The efforts of the past ten years, records of where he had been and what he had saw was going up before his eyes. He made a last lunge, hoping that he could douse the fire and reclaim his book, but in the wind the Calinda lurched, and the book slid just out of Ionas’ reach. Just enough so that he himself ganve that bit of extra force to the book’s movement which allowed it to fall down through a gap, bouncing off various things before falling all the way down below them to Sesus.
“Nooooooooooooooooooooo!” he exclaimed with great anguish. It was like the past ten years of his life had been wiped away from the face of Aeldreth. “My Journal…” he added weakly to no one in particular as he saw it vanish into the oblivion of Sesan streets.
However, he was soon reminded of his task as it became a bit too uncomfortably hot. Just barely a minute later, he and the others who were fighting the fire had finally dealt with it. Scorch marks were the only remaining indicators. The ship had been weakened and any further attack may just finish it off. However, for now it was as safe as it could be.
Ironically the storm god’s idol didn’t receive a single scratch through the whole affair. Considering the personal effect that was his and his alone was the cursed idol, he called down to the captain and others below that the fire had been dealt with. But it did seem a rather hollow victory. The Calinda had received signficant damage and he’d lost his last ten years of notes.