Chapter 8: Wistful and Weathered

[Brian]

Condign finishes assembling his weapons and gear. Not wanting to walk around carrying the blade, he asks Streko to keep it in his haversack before the halfling moves off to the bow of the boat.

He looks around the deck, the wind and salt water spraying against him. In a gathering of characters, one character stands out more than the rest. He wanders starboard, slowly making his way to the large minotaur. He stops next to the creature and rests his hands on the gunwales, staring out over the water. When he speaks, his words float out over the empty sea.

"I do not see too many individuals like me, horns being such a rarity among the peoples of this world." The tiefling chuckes. "Too often I get stares, people shout insults, small children either scream or laugh. No one bothers to look past mere appearances. I find that to be very narrow minded." He pauses for a moment, listening to the rush of the waves breaking alongside the hull. "I am called Condign."

[Ken]

Feb 7, 2011 14:47:10 GMT -4 Jeff said:

"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."

Belarin is about to reply to Morsha, but her comment to Shorak definitely gets his attention. Really now? Something to consider later. He then sees Condign attempting to start a conversation with the minotaur! If he succeeds in catching Condign's eye, he gives the tiefling an encouraging smile.

As the rest of the crew seems to get back to work, he turns toward Morsha and walks a couple of steps toward her. While doing his best to appear casual, he makes certain that he doesn't get closer than a sword's length. "Captain, if you please ... one more moment," he says. "As I said, it's best to make the most out of a bad situation, no matter how they come about. I've lived all my life on land, and so I don't know the slightest thing about the great art of navigation. In fact, fool that I am, I'd get lost in a lake." He manages a self-deprecating smirk. "Would it be possible for me -- without getting in the way of any crewman's duties, obviously -- to learn something about navigation in the days ahead? It would also help take my mind off other, darker matters. In return, if there's something I can do for you or your ship, I'll do my best to oblige."

[Jeff]

Tangat joins Kal by the edge of the ship, even hopping up to put his front paws on the rail. He makes no sound, just leans his head into the wind and lets it ruffle his fur and ears.

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

"I haven't, either," the gnome answers. "But I'd sure like to." He stands up, tucks his book under his arm, and takes Shorak's hand. He's clearly no warrior, but has a firm handshake, for a gnome. "The name's Sem Darlesh. You can call me Sem. Originally from Zilargo, lately from Sharn." He pauses, then looks around as if to make sure only some people can hear. Glancing toward the aft of the ship, Shorak can see Larest ir'Zathyran up and about now, on the sterncastle and well out of earshot, especially in the wind.

Sem says, "Have you been roped into the professor's little expedition yet, too? But obviously in less of an arse-backwards way than you. From what I'm hearing and seeing, Larest has got himself some Khyber-shit-angry mercenaries on his hands now." The gnome gestures at Condign, who can hear every word. "Sem," he says to Condign, expanding his introduction. Syrdan and Belarin are also close enough to hear.

Louder now, to Condign, "And you're right to be juiced up on demon piss. I would be, too. But if you ask me, you're going about it all wrong. Don't kill the man...get even. Living, with regret for what he did to you...that's revenge."

Sem smiles and shrugs. "That's just how Zils think, anyway. Best served slow and ice cold."

Meanwhile, Condign has walked up to the rail beside the minotaur.

Condign:

"I do not see too many individuals like me, horns being such a rarity among the peoples of this world...Too often I get stares, people shout insults, small children either scream or laugh. No one bothers to look past mere appearances. I find that to be very narrow minded...I am called Condign."

The minotaur turns his head, looking askance at Condign with some detachment. He inclines his head. Opens his mouth...

Sem Darlesh, the gnome, gestures at the minotaur. "That's Starg," he says so both Condign and Syrdan and anyone else nearby can hear, "Who's also along for the ride. Though I can't seem to pry out of him what his arrangement with the good professor was. Isn't that right, Stargoyle?"

The minotaur turns around to face the gnome, snorting his annoyance. Looking up at him, you can see faint scars through his fur, tracing mazelike patterns across his head and neck. His voice is deep and powerful, but he speaks fairly quietly. Starg looks back at Condign. His eyes are dark brown, a contrast to the white and grays of his body and clothing. Despite the gnome's introduction, he rumbles, "I am called Starg. And I am sorry for your...circumstances."

[Jeff]

Belarin:

"Captain, if you please ... one more moment."

Captain Morsha pauses, a longsuffering look on her face.

"Would it be possible for me -- without getting in the way of any crewman's duties, obviously -- to learn something about navigation in the days ahead? It would also help take my mind off other, darker matters. In return, if there's something I can do for you or your ship, I'll do my best to oblige."

She shrugs. "Aye, maybe. Let's start with continued good behavior. There's plenty of time ahead. Once we reach the midway latitude, we can expect the storms to hit; that's when navigation becomes more difficult, and there's very little to teach." The captain's mouth curves slightly into something Belarin thinks could one day be a smile. "Really, I'll feel better once I see I don't have to worry about you and Larest trading spells across my deck."

She turns to go, but stops herself. Looks over her shoulder back at Belarin. "We talked, the professor and I, last night. I don't trust him farther than I can dive, but I trust few outside of my crew. I realize he's done you wrong. If you are very serious about returning to Sharn, I may be able to arrange it; in three or four days we will be passing another ship, one going north. A friend's ship. It would be your only opportunity." She says nothing more about it for now, and walks off.

Spindrift approaches Adamant. The other warforged is wearing a coil of rope like a sash, and Adamant can even see some grooves and handles carved into his body that looks designed for ship lines. Like he's custom-made for shipwork, or else retrofitted with such accessories.

"I trust the first night wasn't too bad?" Spindrift asks.

[Dave B.]

"Ah well. Perhaps we can come up with our own ending."

Shorak smirks when Sem asks him if he has been roped into the professor's expedition. "Not yet, but I suppose the question will arise at some point."

Shorak nods a greeting towards Starg. "How did the two of you get 'roped' into it?"

[Darren]

Turning from the sea, Kal leans his back against the rail of the ship. He stands with his arms folded, a sour expression on his face, as he surveys the deck. Finally, he gives a small nod to himself, apparently having made a decision.

Kal walks casually over to Syrdan, and putting his face near the elf's ear, he says in a low voice, "I'm in a terrible mood. If I stay up here, I may end up causing undue mischief. Care to join me for some exploring below decks? I'm curious about this ship, and it may be a good idea to know more about our travel companions than they're willing to tell us with words."

[Mike]

"Well, I think I'm bound to cause undue mischief no matter where I go on this ship," Syrdan replies. "Might as well cause it below decks, then, where the captain is less apt to see. Or complain."

"Besides, some of the crew seems quite willing to talk. And knowing what the ship holds might tell us more about what plans our friend the professor might have than he ever would." The elf smiles thinly. "An expedition, deep into unknown territory, requires a lot of specialized supplies."

Syrdan gestures to the way below decks. "After you, then, lord Kalarian. Lead the way ..."

[Brian]

Sem:

"That's Starg," he says so both Condign and Syrdan and anyone else nearby can hear, "Who's also along for the ride. Though I can't seem to pry out of him what his arrangement with the good professor was. Isn't that right, Stargoyle?"

Condign turns to the gnome and frowns. "I do not remember asking you anything. Now if you do not mind . . . " His voice trails off as he watches Kalarian and Syrdan walk off together. He is sure the last thing they needs is a gnome tagging along. He continues in a more inviting tone, "If you do not mind, I would like like to hear how both of you were recruited by that failed professor." He addresses Starg. "Yes, our circumstances are most unfortunate. For now, Larest is safe; honor demands we follow the captain's rules. However, one day . . . ." He shakes his head. To the minotaur, he says, "Would you be willing to tell your tale? I would understand if you wish not to."

[Jeff]

Condign:

"I do not remember asking you anything. Now if you do not mind . . . "

Sem Darlesh raises his eyebrows in mock shock. Then he opens his book and mimes taking notes, and speaks as he 'writes.' "Passenger's log, Sypheros 18th. There is a tiefling aboard with me. He is either testy...or a racist. I must take heed." He looks up and winks good-naturedly at Condign.

"If you do not mind, I would like like to hear how both of you were recruited by that failed professor."

"Failed?" Sem repeats. "Innnteresting. I'd like to hear more about that. I'll talk if you talk. I'd rather do it below, though, without the wind screaming in my ears. To the mess? Or maybe in the meeting room, if Lady Captain lets us."

Condign:

"Would you be willing to tell your tale? I would understand if you wish not to."

Starg looks at Condign and shakes his head slowly. "I wish not not...at this time. I need time." There is an obvious heaviness in his tone, even though his voice is new to Condign. Condign has heard that tone before, used by those grieving for the loss of another.

Sem winces. Ooops, he mouths.

[Ken]

Belarin is pleasantly surprised by Morsha's dangling of a potential offer. But his satisfaction is quickly neutralized by the choice it presents. Leave the Merrow Down and return to Sharn... and thus allow Larest the chance to return alive to Sharn, in possession of this mysterious, powerful artifact?

He overhears some of Condign's conversation with the gnome and minotaur -- and he notes the sudden disappearance of Syrdan and Kal. "Excuse me, Sem, was it?" he says, walking over the gnome with a smile. He extends his hand. "Belarin." He turns and nods his head polite toward Starg before turning back to Sem. "Always pleased to meet someone who appreciates the tools of a scribe," he continues. "It would be wise to compare our tales, I believe. Do you have any interesting stories in that journal?"

[Dave W.]

Feb 8, 2011 9:13:21 GMT -4 Jeff said:

"I trust the first night wasn't too bad?" Spindrift asks.

Adamant nods respectfully to the other warforged. "Very well, thank you. I was just telling my tiefling friend that I spent some hours last night listening to this boat." Adamant sways easily with rocking of the ship. There's no unusual grace about the warforged's adjusting stance, it's more as though he's found a way to solidly fix himself to the deck. "And that it feels almost alive... and happy."

"I'm pleased that my friends are more themselves this morning. I was concerned for them last night."

[Jeff]

Sem takes Belarin's hand. "Sem Darlesh, yes."

He looks down at his book. "Oh, these aren't stories; it's not really a journal. Just notes I take, symbols I admire and would like to study. A bit of magic here and there."

_______________________

Kal and Syrdan, any particular section below they intend to check out first? The ship has two levels, an upper deck and lower deck (cargo hold); there's also the indoor section beneath the sterncastle (the raised portion at the back of the ship), which is essentially the same level as the upper deck.

[Jeff]

Adamant:

"And that it feels almost alive... and happy."

"A construction of wood, with some metal components—alive?" Spindrift shakes his head. "What an absurd notion."

"I'm pleased that my friends are more themselves this morning. I was concerned for them last night."

"I also was concerned." The other warforged leans around Adamant and glances toward the aft of the ship. "I still am." Then he points toward the mainmast at the center of the ship. "If you're still interested in some work to do, you could take the crow's nest anytime you like. Aye, it will bear your weight. It's very strong." Adamant's gaze is drawn up, very high, to the cone-shaped cage held aloft by the central mast. "Although not right now. There's some repair to do up there."

[Darren]

Kal grins happily at Syrdan and claps the elf on the shoulder. With a quick glance around, he walks casually, but quickly, down to the lower deck of the ship. He slaps his hand against his thigh, signaling for Tangat to follow.

Once below, Kal says, "I'm not looking for trouble." He grins and adds, "Although, if trouble should find us...." He begins walking through the hold, careful not to look to suspicious if anyone is around, trying to look into open doorways or crates, and specifically looking for the quarters that might house Larest or any of his traveling mates. He stretches out his emotions towards Tangat, sending him a sense of concern and alarm, knowing that the dog will understand to keep his keen senses sharp and alert them immediately should anyone come their way.

[Dave B.]

Shorak listens quietly to the exchange. He will readily follow should the conversation move to a more private venue.

[Dave W.]

Feb 8, 2011 18:58:11 GMT -4 Jeff said:

"A construction of wood, with some metal components—alive?" Spindrift shakes his head. "What an absurd notion."

"Well, my imagination is sometimes absurd," Adamant says with the light musical tone.

Then he points toward the mainmast at the center of the ship. "If you're still interested in some work to do, you could take the crow's nest anytime you like. Aye, it will bear your weight. It's very strong." Adamant's gaze is drawn up, very high, to the cone-shaped cage held aloft by the central mast. "Although not right now. There's some repair to do up there."

"Ah," Adamant's glance follows Spindrift's up the mast, "it's, ah, that is to say, ummm, quite high. Ummm, I suppose if that is how best I could serve... please tell me there's a way up that doesn't involve flying carrages."

[Joe]

Streko silently places Condign's blade into his haversack. It had not occured to him prior to this moment to check and ensure all is still safely within. He considers the items and personal gear he carries with him at all time and begins to rummage through it, removing each peice separately from the haversack and placing it on the deck near him to ensure it is properly catalogued.

His mind slowly wanders back to Varna...further back, to the days he was searching for her throughout Sharn. Streko recalls the towers of Sharn, the depths beneath and then, oddly enough, he recalls how he first received his Handy Haversack and frowns.

A permanant loan from a Gnome, a family heirloom handed over to Streko in thanks for saving the life of his child. Kindness from a Gnome. Where had all of Streko's rage come from and why was it there? What has been hapening to him?

"Where in Olladra's great name did I begin to go so wrong?" he asks. "I seem to get so caught up in the moment, I forget that anyone else exists but me. Is that what Olladra teaches us? Is that how I represent House Jorasco? Gods, but I am a damned fool!"

He replaces the contents of his haversack, secures it to his back and makes his way toward the Captain of the ship, approaching slowly, cautiously and, head lowered, as contritely as possible.

"Captain, if I may apologize for my...well...for everything. It is true we were abducted, but we are obviously not the only ones put out but this adventure. Further, despite my lack of trust in Larest, I sense not only truth in him, but something else. He is afraid, or else he is completely convinced of the veracity in his story. If he is simply one who believes the ends justifies the means, perhaps there is hope for reconciliation. Of course, explanations without threats might work as well. However, my deepest apologies for any offense I may have accused you of. I sometimes forget I'm not the only living being on Eberron. It will not happen again and I offer you and your crew my services."

[Jeff]

Syrdan and Kal and Tangat

Kal and Syrdan, with Tangat alert and in tow, find themselves roaming the cargo hold of the ship. Crewmen walk past them frequently, but not suspiciously. Almost every man and woman has a blade of some kind on their person, from a small knife on the belt to a two-handed scimitar on the back. Evidenyl the Thunder Sea has seen piracy before, and sailors can't be too careful.

Most of the cabin doors are shut, leaving the two men to guess at its occupants. But evidence suggests most of them house the crewmen. One or two ajar confirm this: hammocks sway, and night shift sailors are sleeping deep at this hour.

The central hold is packed on the sides with its crates. They're lashed together with thick ropes and even a few chains, offering no immediate clues about their contents. Tangat sniffs discretely around them and doesn't turn up any alarms. Kal is pretty sure the dog is smelling hardy foodstuffs: mostly grains, maybe some fruit. One small stack of metal crates is actually quite cold to the touch. Magic. Such preservative spellwork is not unheard of for ships who can afford a magewright.

At the far end of the cargo is an elegantly crafted door; something important lies behind that. Syrdan is pretty sure the door is made of densewood, an Aerenal wood as hard as rock.

After walking around for a while, one door does catch Tangat's notice. He pauses a short distance from it, then raises his head up and flattens his ears. Syrdan detects it next: the smell of death, of faint decay. But it's more sterile than truly rotting, like formaldehyde. There's also a bitter scent of herbs. Quite a different smell than the rest of the ship.

Neither man hears anything beyond the closed cabin door.

[Brian]

Sem:

"Passenger's log, Sypheros 18th. There is a tiefling aboard with me. He is either testy...or a racist. I must take heed."

"Are all gnomes prone to exaggeration?" Condign says to no one in particular, then focuses his gaze on Sem. "Interesting that you should use the term racist, given your disparaging comment to Starg. Tell me, what have you "written" about yourself in that little book? What happens when you turn that razor-sharp wit inward? Or is that simply too painful for you?"

Sem:

"I'll talk if you talk. I'd rather do it below, though, without the wind screaming in my ears. To the mess? Or maybe in the meeting room, if Lady Captain lets us."

Condign shakes his head. "I would prefer to stay up here. I have recently spent time underground, deep under the placid streets of Sharn. Being below decks is just too similar. I would like to see open sky for a while. However, I have no issues with sharing my story."

Starg:

"I wish not to...at this time. I need time."

"Certainly," says Condign. "If you wish to talk, seek me out."

He nods a greeting to Belarin, then asks Sem. "Would you like me to go first, or shall I hear your story?"

[Jeff]

Condign:

"Are all gnomes prone to exaggeration?... "Interesting that you should use the term racist, given your disparaging comment to Starg. Tell me, what have you "written" about yourself in that little book? What happens when you turn that razor-sharp wit inward? Or is that simply too painful for you?"

Sem shakes his head with a smile, then mimes a bit more note-taking. "And is utterly humorless."

"Interesting that you should use the term racist, given your disparaging comment to Starg.

"Disparaging? But I'm fond of gargoyles."

He looks up at Belarin. "Are all your friends this captious?" The gnome shrugs at Condign with a half-smile. "Listen, if you don't want to talk to me, you don't have to. Or, if your goal is to learn more about the riff raff you're sharing deck space with, you could at least fake some enthusiasm."

[Darren]

"Ingredient's for the witch's spells?" Kal says, arching an eyebrow and looking at Syrdan. For someone from Karnath, Kal seems to have a surprisingly low opinion of the undead.

[Jeff]

Streko finds Captain Morsha easily enough.

"Captain, if I may apologize for my...well...for everything. It is true we were abducted, but we are obviously not the only ones put out but this adventure. Further, despite my lack of trust in Larest, I sense not only truth in him, but something else. He is afraid, or else he is completely convinced of the veracity in his story. If he is simply one who believes the ends justifies the means, perhaps there is hope for reconciliation. Of course, explanations without threats might work as well. However, my deepest apologies for any offense I may have accused you of. I sometimes forget I'm not the only living being on Eberron. It will not happen again and I offer you and your crew my services."

The captain pauses in her work and looks at Streko with a neutral expression. After a long silence, she says: "If every captain was guilty, by association, of the crimes of her passengers, then this would be a cursed sea indeed. And if every god favored or maligned everyone their priests wanted them to on a whim..."

Morsha sighs and fixes Streko with a hard look. "Life on the seas has taught me that actions are what matter most. Apologies, lamentations, promises...that's the politics of the ports. If I find my crew in need of a professional healer, I will approach you and see what mood you're in then."

"As for Larest...he's a lying snake of a man. I know that, especially now. I offer no advice, concerning him, but he has paid his fare as promised. At least in some things, he appears to be genuine. You will have to decide when you leave this ship if there is any worth to waiting him out, or if he should simply be put down."

[Ken]

Feb 9, 2011 7:21:41 GMT -4 Jeff said:

He looks up at Belarin. "Are all your friends this captious?" The gnome shrugs at Condign with a half-smile. "Listen, if you don't want to talk to me, you don't have to. Or, if your goal is to learn more about the riff raff you're sharing deck space with, you could at least fake some enthusiasm."

Belarin smiles broadly. "I like you! You use big words. And yes, there's a time for captious chat and a time for phatic communication. I'd wink at that, but the sun is in my eyes.

"I specialize in riff raff, so yes, I'd appreciate hearing more about those on this ship... and about those symbols you've inscribing. I specialize in that, too."

The sound of Streko's voice causes him to glance backward for a moment. Even though he can't make out the words, the tone of Streko's conversation with Morsha fills him with relief. Glad to see that Good Streko has rallied. He returns his attention to his conversation ... and laughs. "I'm sorry! I just realized that we make an interesting-looking quartet. And yes, like Condign, I wouldn't mind open skies for another minute. Then, indeed, some privacy would be a good idea."

[Jeff]

Sem points to one of the two sets of stairs that lead up to the sterncastle. "Let's have a seat up there; that way we can see front and back, keep an eye on who's nearby or who's listening, get some outdoor 'privacy,' and yet remain partially underfoot for the crew."

"You coming, Stargument?" he adds.

The minotaur looks at the gnome, and shakes his head. Those horns look like they could do a lot of damage. They've been scored with old use.

[Dave B.]

Shorak follows Belarin and Sem towards the forecastle, listening quietly to their conversation. He is definitely interested in learning more about those who are traveling aboard the ship and he is very much enjoying the wit and reparte he is witnessing between Belarin and Sem. Though, he does wonder if maybe the gnome is trying to make Condign angry. He doesn't know the tiefling, but a jest to someone is almost always an insult to another.

[Mike]

The elf lightly raps his gloved knuckles on the sturdy door. "Densewood. Armor, for all practical purposes. The question is, does it mean that prying eyes like ours are meant to be kept out ... or is something meant to be kept in?"

Feb 9, 2011 8:27:25 GMT -4 Darren said:

"Ingredient's for the witch's spells?" Kal says, arching an eyebrow and looking at Syrdan.

"If we're lucky," the elf murmurs. "I somehow suspect worse."

The elf takes a long look around the corridor, trying to make sure no one else is nearby. He moves closer to the door where Tangat lies and where the faint stench of death fills the air. "I doubt it's this simple, but ..."

Quietly, Syrdan attempts to open the door.

[Jeff]

"Ummm, I suppose if that is how best I could serve... please tell me there's a way up that doesn't involve flying carrages."

"It's a simple climb," Spindrift answers. "Find me later, Adamant, and I'll show you the ropes." He taps his eyepatch in lieu of winking. Spindrift walks off, then, to other duties. Adamant is left standing alone.

Belarin, Condign, and the curious drow elf appear to be heading over toward the sterncastle to talk with the gnome. The gnome flashes him a smile and an inviting wave.

[Jeff]

Sem Darlesh takes a seat at the top of the steps, just before the sterncastle deck, looking down at Condign, Shorak, and Belarin. Even from this height, he's quite small, like all gnomes. He's just about Streko's height, but less girded for battle.

The stairwell is wide enough to allow them some decent room; crewman can still walk past on one side. Both Adamant and Streko, if they are finished, are free to join this group here.

The gnome sits with his book in his lap, drumming his fingers on the binding. He seems eager to talk, like he's spent much too much time in the company of terse companions. "I'd surely like to hear your stories first," he says, looking first to Condign. "But I won't pry. We Zils may be inquisitive, but only some of us are invasive. Tell me only what you're willing to, and I will do the same. I have to know what forces bring a tiefling, two clerics, and two dragonmarked heirs together into the same company. I've seen more tieflings in the last month than I have the last ten years...it's uncanny."

[Darren]

As the elf reaches for the knob, Kal places a hand on the skull-marked door, keeping it closed. "Better not," he says. "I doubt anyone would mark a door in this way if there wasn't something dangerous inside. And being here on the ship, we don't have anywhere to go if we release something undead, or poisonous, or...well, you get the picture." Kal turns to look at the densewood door and grins. "Now, THAT door....I'd like to know what's back there." Kal puts his hand out in front of him, an after you gesture towards Syrdan.

[Dave W.]

"i will find you later, thank you." Adamant tells the Mate. "Oh, Spindrift, if it is alright with the Captain, I am willing to spar with anyone aboard, for exercise, of course. I promise I neither pout at losing nor gloat at winning."

"Umm, perhaps one exception. It might be a bit provocative to pair me against Larest."

"it's a thought anyway."

Adamant heads down to the cabin to stow away his gear. The backpack and shield are left in the cabin and the warforged sets back topside to find his friends.
-----------
he'll go look for Streko.