Chapter 8: Wistful and Weathered

[Dave W.]

Feb 4, 2011 12:25:16 GMT -4 Dave B. said:

"Good morning Adamant," being careful to keep his voice low.

"Good morrow Master Shorak. It seems as though you rested well."

Walking the passageway towards the galley, Adamant says, "I am not certain watches are strictly necessary. I am more than willing to stand them of course."

[Dave B.]

Shorak notices the stirrings of wakefulness among the bodies and heads out the door towards the smell of waiting food. Hopefully, the captain doesn't have a change of heart before he finishes his second plateful.

To Adamant he says, "Doubtful. The voyage from Xen'drik was uneventful. Except for the discovery of a certain stowaway, me."

[Joe]

Streko awakens slowly, his stomach still a twisted knot of unpleasantness, but not nearly so bad as the night before. He takes a deep breath, grateful that others had left before him and opened the door, allowing the clean air to wash away the stench of his mess.

He stays in his bunk however, still embarassed and not a bit annoyed at himself for last night's display. The fear and concern for his sister, the wrenching dislocation from the highest towers of Sharn to the rocking of the sea and other things he's noticed around him of late all came to a head, but still, for a Halfling of House Jorasco and a cleric of Olladra to act as he did?

His mind begins to race in circles, asking the same questions, brooking the same arguments.

What do I say to my friends? Or to the Captain? Usually, I am the pillar of diplomacy. Why then such a hideous display of rage? Host preserve me, I'm not sure I iwsh to be seen by anyone for a while. I am so hungry, yet the thought of food makes me ill. And the incesant rocking. No wonder I'm feeling so dizzy.

Streko decides to stay in bed a while. Once everyone has left, perhaps then he will make his way up and out of the cabin.

[Ken]

Grateful that his sleep was not interrupted by owlbears, Belarin steps toward the galley with the others, except for Streko, who seems to be lingering behind. Before they get more than a few steps down the hallway, he says softly, "Before we start mingling with the crew, some suggestions. I volunteer to be our spokesman when it comes to dealing with the captain, at least for now. If she hears from all of us, she won't be happy. And I won't rub her back. Also..." He looks at Condign. "...I'd like you with me, Condign, when that happens. Oh, yes, I'm a polished speaker, but you... well, you have a natural nobility that no words can match.

"Everyone else, please see what you can learn about the rest of the crew, especially the other 'passengers.' The more information, the ..." He stops as the group gets closer to the galley. "Where's Streko?" He looks back down the hallway. "Good Streko! Please come!"

[Darren]

Kal nods silently at Belarin. He does, however, roll up his sleeves, exposing the blue dragonmark standing out in stark contrast on his right forearm.

[Jeff]

Breakfast is pretty good, considering how actually simple and bland it is: breads, grains, oats...very nutrient rich but fairly basic, the type of food designed for rationing. The cook is a portly, black-bearded elderly dwarf named Garrel. "Rhymes with barrel," he says upon introducing himself, and he is accordingly cylindrical.

Though the fair is much simpler, somehow this breakfast seems much more nourishing, and refreshing, than the ill-fated Azure Gateway one previous. Tangat is also spunky once again, and goes from lap to lap, begging for food. He even sets his puppy dog eyes on Shorak, indiscriminately. Already the half-drow can tell that this dog is unusually intelligent, despite some of his typical canine behavior.

For a short while, you're left to talk with yourselves. No one else is close by ovehear, except maybe Garrel, but he seems to occupy his time by humming to himself while cooking.

"When ye're finished," Garrel says between his almost tuneless songs, "Ye're s'pposed to go up top. But take yer time. Good for digestion, eh?"

[Brian]

Belarin:

Also..." He looks at Condign. "...I'd like you with me, Condign, when that happens. Oh, yes, I'm a polished speaker, but you... well, you have a natural nobility that no words can match.

One of Condign's thin, blue eyebrows arches, and then he shrugs. "I would be glad to stand with you. This is the first time, though, that my looks have been called noble. Thank you."

When Kalarian rolls up his sleeves, ostensibly to display the sign of his nobility, Condign simply can not help himself: "What is the matter? Is it the salt air? Is it making your tattoo itch? I may be able to get you a salve or something to put on it. Do you think that would help?"

[Mike]

"My thanks to you, Garrel," Syrdan says to the dwarf when he receives his breakfast. "If it tastes as good as it smells - and I'm sure it does - it'll be the most welcome meal I've had in awhile."

"I must confess, though ... seeing your bearded face upon this vessel - along with those of your brethren - I'm a little surprised." He looks curiously at the dwarf. "I thought most of your kind preferred the mountains to the seas ... seems I thought wrong."

Syrdan smiles thinly. "The Merrow Down, is it a dwarven trading vessel, then?"

[Jeff]

Syrdan:

"If it tastes as good as it smells - and I'm sure it does - it'll be the most welcome meal I've had in awhile."

Garrel's ruddy face turns even redder at this. "'Welcome,' eh? I hope so."

"I thought most of your kind preferred the mountains to the seas .... The Merrow Down, is it a dwarven trading vessel, then?"

"Don't believe all that ye're hearing. Oh, sure, the Mror-folk came from the mountains but we're everywhere now...have been for centuries. Not all of us want to squabble over gold mines among the old clans."

He grins warmly, seeming happy to have people to talk to. "Don't all elves climb and hug trees?"

"Nah, this ship ain't no 'dwarven' vessel. The Captain, she just seems to trust our kind more than most. She likes straightforward, direct, honest. 'Course, not every dwarf is...but by and large, you get what you see with Mror-folk."

[Ken]

Feb 5, 2011 6:25:16 GMT -4 Brian said:

When Kalarian rolls up his sleeves, ostensibly to display the sign of his nobility, Condign simply can not help himself: "What is the matter? Is it the salt air? Is it making your tattoo itch? I may be able to get you a salve or something to put on it. Do you think that would help?"

"Kal, remind me, please," says Belarin, chewing the last of his breakfast. "When we get back to Sharn, I'll help you find an eggshell-blue codpiece. Same effect, but at least it'll give you some variety. And it'll go well with the rest of your clothes."

He turns to the drow. "Shorak, before we head up, you can please tell us about ... well, what to expect when we arrive? And why you chose to leave it?"

[Dave B.]

Shorak is certainly not a dainty eater and true to his word, he is definitely attempting gorge himself, considering the amount of food he's shoving into his mouth.

Feb 5, 2011 11:48:43 GMT -4 Ken said:

He turns to the drow. "Shorak, before we head up, you can please tell us about ... well, what to expect when we arrive? And why you chose to leave it?"

Shorak turns toward Belarin about to reply, then realizing he should probably swallow first. He holds up a finger and begins chewing faster and when he finally finishes that mouthful he slows down long enough to speak.

"Stormreach? Not Sharn! At least no where near the same size or political atmosphere. The city is much smaller and perhaps a bit more crowded, what with those that make it their home and the multitudes, it seems, that are always 'just passing through'. The Storm Lords are pretty much in charge and the Guard serves them, not the people, so you might not want to draw their attention. Of course there are crime gangs and various militia. But if you stay out of their way, you shouldn't have any problems."

He pauses a moment to take a small bite of food and share a morsel with Tangat.

"Oh I wasn't leaving Xen'drik. Well not for good anyway. I was following up on a rumor and I felt a little jaunt might be a good thing as well. I just wanted to see what fate might have in store for me." Another small bite, chew, swallow. "So, I decided to stow away on the Merrow Down. They never would have noticed me, but for a very clumsy mage. The mage dropped some sort of alchemical vial or something, I don't know. All I know is I'm hiding quietly in the cargo hold and the next thing I know, there's this huge hole almost directly above me and daylight is pouring in and angry voices and sailor's eyes peering down at me. This all happened just a couple of days before we docked in Sharn. Fate has a sense of humor it seems. Or would that be irony."

More food goes in. He must be halfway through his second helping already. "I've had some conversations with some of the crew and from what I hear, stowaways are usually treated pretty harshly. Usually gutted or thrown overboard. But, for some reason she chose to just toss me in the brig. That's what they call their jail cell. Then you arrived and the captain let me out, as you already know."

He pours himself some water and drinks. "I'm guessing that Professor you hate so much is planning some sort of expedition on Xen'drik. I suppose I'll be offered my freedom to help guide them. Either that or the captain is just toying with me and I'll be walking the plank any day now." He looks around the table, "And what about all of you? Besides being here against your will, what are your stories?"

[Joe]

Streko decides to listen rahter than speak, as his mouth has seemingly gotten them into more trouble than they originally already were, at least with the Captain. He eats, realizing the nurtients are necessary, and hopes his stomach remains content to just rumble and quake once in a while, rahter than dislodge its contents. He listens to the banter with the dwarven cook, as well as the conversations amongst his friends, but says nothing.

[Dave W.]

Adamant nods to the cook, "Thank you for taking care of my friends Master Garrel. You may know that I will not be eating, it is not a reflection on your talents."

When Shorak asks for our story, Adamant gives his perspective, "Syrdan and I are newcommers, these other fine people are famous in Sharn with a Chronicle detailing their exploits."

"Our most recent experience was investigating trouble in the City of Dead. As it turns out the terror we put down was placed there by this Professor as a test to trap a skilled team."

"the Professor invited us meet him to discuss an adventure searching for a powerful artifact. In truth he had my attention, had he let us decide for ourselves we might have joined him. For some reason he choose to poison and kidnap us."

"And so here we are." 

[Jeff]

"Aye...that's not good," Garrel says, but he gets close-mouthed at that point, preferring to stay out of any discussions about kidnapping, poisoning, and forced employment.

[Dave B.]

Shorak finally runs out of steam, sopping up what's left on his plate with a piece of bread, he pops it in his mouth. When he's done he leans back in his chair, pats his stomach and lets out a loud, deep burp that would make a dwarf proud.

[Ken]

"And on that note," says Belarin, "it's probably time we showed our non-glaring faces on the main deck. Thank you, Garrel, for breakfast. Adamant has described the key details, and I have the feeling we'll have time to tell you more in the days ahead.

"Shall we?" He gets up and starts making his way toward the stairs, unless anyone raises a question.

[Brian]

Feeling far more revitalized, Condign rises from the table and thanks the cook for the meal. Then he follows the others to the top deck, wondering what will happen today.

[Jeff]

The moment you work your way out of the mess (dining area aboard a ship), word seems to ripple through the crew. You are beckoned up to the top deck.

The sky above is bright and blue, with only a few wisps of white cloud. The wind is fairly constant, strong but not overwhelming, and all three main sails are full.

A number of crewmen are working around the bow and that's where the Captain has hailed you to. Two large trunks have been placed in front of the foremost mast. Captain Morsha stands beside it, with one of her on the other side of them. The captain still looks grim. You don't see ir'Zathyran around right now, nor his necromancer associate. However, the white-robed minotaur stands at the starboard rail nearby, gazing west across the open sea. Ten feet away from him, the burgundy-garbed gnome sits cross-legged on the deck with his back to rail, looking like he's trying to say out of everyone's way. A book is in his lap, but he snaps it shut and sits up straight eagerly when your group comes onto the scene.

Spindrift stands on the port side. A couple of crates have been stacked together to form steps up to a sturdy wood platform that juts out well beyond the rail.

Captain Morsha looks at you. "This is our first morning on the water, with many to come. We're going to settle your problems right now." She looks to the sailor. "Open them," she orders him.

The sailor opens the first trunk, then overturns it. Weapons spill out: Syrdan's gold-hued sunblade, Condign's broadsword, Belarin's pact dagger, Adamant's sword, his and Condign's shields, and various daggers and other secondary weapons. Because it is much too large to fit, Kal's sharash is carried over by another crewman. Then the sailor lifts the lid of the second trunk, and you can see all your gear there, seemingly untouched. Backpacks, haversacks, even coin pouches.

"Count it, if you want," Morsha says. "If there's a crown less, then you may call me a criminal."

She gives you a moment to start recovering your gear. She indicates a sturdy board which now juts out from the port side. "My warning stands. If there is bloodshed or even brawling on the Merrow, the guilty party is going overboard, dead or alive. If you're willing to accept that, find and run through your enemies right now. I'm not going to deal with threats the whole way. The sea will throw enough our way in the days to come."

Shorak's possessions are not in the trunks. Morsha looks at him pointedly, but nods as if to say that she will come to that next. But she's waiting first to hear what anyone has to say.

_______________________

I realized I really ought to flip the map so that bow is pointing south, where the ship's headed. So I did.

[Joe]

Streko finishes his breakfast and follows his friends to the ship's fore. Seeing the small mound of items on the deck, Streko moves over to find his things and picks them up, feeling much better.

[Dave B.]

Shorak follows everyone up to the deck, where he watches the group of friends gather their weapons & gear.

He notes captain Morsha's look and waits patiently to see what will transpire next.

[Brian]

After he has retrieved his gear, Condign looks at the captain. "I do not have a scabbard for the sword. Rather than carry it around all the time, looking like I have drawn steel, I will leave it in the room we are staying in. For the sake of your rules, and to demonstrate our willingness to abide by them."

[Mike]

Syrdan says nothing to the captain. He quietly picks up his greatsword, as well as his bag.

Reaching into his bag, he fishes out a short length of white silken thread. He silently wraps the thread around the hilt of his sword and a loop in his scabbard, and ties it tight, making a plainly obvious peace bond for his greatsword.

Once finished, the elf heads over to the crate nearest to him, casually observing it, trying to determine its contents merely from observation.

[Ken]

Successfully resisting the urge to run toward his pact dagger -- an unexpected feeling that disturbs him -- Belarin gathers his weapon and his belongings.

"My warning stands. If there is bloodshed or even brawling on the Merrow, the guilty party is going overboard, dead or alive. If you're willing to accept that, find and run through your enemies right now. I'm not going to deal with threats the whole way. The sea will throw enough our way in the days to come."

Belarin looks around to see that his companions are quietly doing the same as him, then he says to Morsha, "Good morning, Captain. Yes, we accept those terms and the rules of your ship. Regarding last night... we were surprised, frustrated, angry, as perhaps you would've been in a similar situation. I regret any rudeness toward you. Any issues we have with our captor will be handled at another time, not on your ship and not involving your crew, unless any of them chooses for some reason to get involved.

"And regarding the rules of your ship, please keep in mind that we're not seamen by nature. We'll obey those rules we know of, and even assist you during this voyage where and when we can, but we may cross a minor line or two out of ignorance. I trust that's acceptable. I'd like our group and yours to make the best out of a very bad set of circumstances."

[Jeff]

"Excellent," is all Captain Morsha says, without cheer, then turns on her heel and walks over to a smaller chest, then withdraws a key from the folds of her clothing. Like last night, the only skin not covered is that of her face.

Syrdan casually examines the large crate before him without touching it. The thing is squat, wider than it is tall. There's an unlatched lid that obviously sees a lot of use. And with stray rope fibers clinging to its splintery edges, Syrdan can imagine giant coils within.

"That is a fine shield," a human sailor says to Condign once he recovers his things. The man looks like a veteran. In fact, his left hand is missing, replaced with a metal brace and a two-pronged hook blunted instead of sharp.

Captain Morsha opens the small chest and pulls out a surprising number of weapons: a sheathed short sword of peculiar, almost antiquated design, a handful of shuriken (spiked throwing stars), a hand crossbow, and a strange wedge-shaped, symmetrical blade with no obvious handle.

"I will add one amendment," she says to everyone as she hands over the equipment and weapons to Shorak. "I don't expect you to stay shut up in your cabins the whole time. You may move about freely. Stay out of rooms you haven't been invited into, and stay out of my crew's way wherever possible. Mock combat, to stay active, is fine.just be obvious about it. I expect no 'accidents.'"

The only thing Shorak finds missing from his pack are his "professional tools." Morsha gives him a grim smile when she notices. "You're a sneaky one," she says to him. "So you'll need to earn my trust to get those back."

[Dave W.]

Adamant takes his turn on the steps leading above deck he shares a thought with Condign's back, "you know, last night as I was sitting, I found myself listening to the boat."

"I think it is a good boat. It feels almost alive. Like some distant sea cousin. And touching the wood, it feels... happy I suppose."

When the captain offers them their gear, Adamant will take his turn collecting his gear. The light backpack gets slung over one shoulder; one fluid and practiced move sets the sword belt around his waist. He decides to simply carry the heavy metal shield, at sea it might be more a hindrance than anything.

He makes a shirt bow to the captain, "Thank you Captain". He glances to Spindrift for a moment as though he might ask something but thinks better of it and steps back.

[Joe]

Streko gathers his belongings and then moves to the very front of the ship, where he stands looking out at the onrushing sea.

"Olladra, what HAVE I gotten myself into this time?" he asks, imagining his words being taken by the breeze and diffused into nothingness behind him.

[Dave B.]

Shorak accepts his weapons from the captain with a smile. He hesitates just a moment, noticing something missing. Before he can question it, however he hears the captain's comment. Quietly he says to her, "Then your trust I will do my best to earn."

He walks away, quickly making almost every weapon seemingly disappear. Only his short sword and hand crossbow are apparent on his person. Even the odd hiltless blade has been hidden from view. Leaning against the rail of the ship he slowly surveys the deck, obviously just taking stock of everything going on.

[Jeff]

Morsha makes no comment about Condign's sword or its missing scabbard. She doesn't seem to care, either way.

Salty wind streams through Streko's hair as he looks out at the Thunder Sea, which stretches infinitely before him.

After a few minutes, he notices something else. Beneath the bowsprit—the pointy protrusion at the very front of the ship—you see an interesting figurehead. Some ships have busty mermaids, or angels, or other nautical women. The Merrow's figurehead is a large, monstrous female—like a mermaid, perhaps, if the mermaid's mother was bred with an ogre. She is carved of wood and painted white-green, with a hide that esembles scales and taloned feet that look like flippers. Her face looks enraged, with a roaring, fang-filled mouth and flowing seaweed hair streaming behind her in the wind. Even carved in wood, she looks pretty fearsome.

To Streko's comment, Olladra offers nothing. But he remembers theological musings from long ago, passed along by priests of the Sovereign of Feast and Fortune. The seas and oceans were wells of mystery in the body of the progenitor wyrm, Eberron, the Dragon Between; fortune is either tempered on the high seas or dashed to ruin upon the rocks. It's a flip of Olladra's coin, but he knows she always favors the bold.

Shorak sees the gnome eyeing him. "A gnome, a drow, and a minotaur go into a tavern..." he says to himself with a smile.

[Darren]

Kal has been oddly quiet. Without comment, he retrieves his belongings. He stands listening to the captain, the naked blade of his sharrash, curving behind his head and over his shoulder. He nods at her when she calls for no blood to be shed, then sensing dismissal, he moves over to the railing of the ship and stands silently watching the sea.

[Dave B.]

Feb 7, 2011 18:21:09 GMT -4 Jeff said:

Shorak sees the gnome eyeing him. "A gnome, a drow, and a minotaur go into a tavern..." he says to himself with a smile.

Shorak ambles over to the gnome. "I don't think I've heard that one before. Shorak", he says holding out his hand.