Jammers Summary: Chapter 1, Turn 1
----------- = Meanwhile, elsewhere... *********** = Later...
The sign read simply "House Moune requires helmsmen, navigators, and sailors. Interested, dependable, skilled parties should inquire at the Moune House offices, corner of Grand Street and Trader's Way in the Middle City."(#55). Seemed like a good idea at the time. House Moune is one of the few merchant houses on Bral with an honest reputation, and its also said to treat its employees right. That certainly seems true enough, when hired the sail hands among you were offered a solid 24 gold a month, nearly twice the going rate! Helmsmen were offered 50 gold, ten more then most merchant houses offer. The line of applicants for the positions available was certainly large, perhaps 40 spacers had lined up yesterday outside the Moune offices waiting to be interviewed. You wonder why your fellow new hirees were chosen, what skills do they possess? There certainly appears to be a lot of you, nearly a dozen, almost half the crew of the tradesman you were told to report to this fine Bralian morning. You glance once more at the ship, the Flowfish, a neat enough looking tradesman, far from new and hardly distinguishable from any of the other dozen or so tradesman scattered about the docks. The Moune House emblem hangs from the mainmast, a glittering silver rapier on a black field. As you wait on the wharf for the ship's captain or mate to greet you, you begin slowly introducing yourselves to your new shipmates.
A pair of pointed ears reveals the elven blood in his veins, but the coarseness of his features show him to be a half-elf. He is otherwise unremarkable in appearance with brown hair and green eyes. The half-elf stands about 5'6" and has a cheap shortsword sheathed at his waist, but a glint from a ruby on a pommel on the dagger balancing the sword shows it to be worth a great deal.
He steps forward to introduce himself, "Greetings shipmates," he begins with a grin, "My name is Talus and I hail from the direction of Realmspace."
Talus then steps back to stand beside a young blond human whom he arrived with and murmurs to him with a gesture towards the others, "With a crew this diverse this is going to be an interesting voyage."
The young man Talus has spoken to gives a quiet laugh. Debating whether to speak, he looks back to Talus, giving enough time to make a cursory inspection of the boy. Not exceptionally tall, he looks to stand about jaw level with Radick, and while he is slight of build, he has the color of health about him. The boy's curly, shoulder length blonde hair is held back from his face by a small half inch wide leather band. Burned into this band are many images of the hunting birds, the falcons and hawks, in flight. Facing forward again, his steely gray eyes become apparent, as they stand out from a decidedly plain face. Hitching back a dark green overcloak, his clothes and weaponry become visible. While simple in cut, his garb appears to be of fine and sturdy make. He wears a white linen cote under a green linen jerkin, the sleeves of the cote gathered at the wrist. Around his right finger is a ring of steel, shining brightly against his suntanned skin. On a brown leather belt are his weapons, a short sword and dagger. A matching pair, their well- polished sandalwood hilts reflect the light on board the ship. His braies, too, are a shade of brown, much like the color of good earth, gathered and tied just above the line of his short cut boots. Holding onto the rucksack slung across a shoulder, he finally steps forth and speaks. " 'Lo all," he says quietly. Though he can be heard clearly, it is difficult to resist the urge to lean forward. "M'names Kain, and I ah...hail from Toril, what would be Realmspace I guess." As Kain makes his introduction, he scans the newly hired men, looking to each, but rarely making eye contact. "Ah, I've worked on ships before, mainly sea going vessels, but 't won't be the first time we've, that's Talus and I, worked on a jamming vessel. Again, pleased to make your acquaintance," he finishes as he retreats, allowing others to make their own introductions.
".... Then Chicken Hawk complained to Coyote that the new creations did not speak," the young man was finishing his story. A group of dockhands stood around him, some bored, some with obvious looks of scorn on their faces and some... some were enraptured. This young savage had a certain way with a story. "So Coyote snuck into the private chamber of the Great Spirit of Old Man Moon and secrets away with a bag of words. He returns to the Middle World and distributes the words to the new creation: Man. And that is how we can speak. Of course, Coyote couldn't make things easy, so he shook the bag before giving the words to different peoples, that is the origin of the different languages." Having finished the story to a few laughs and a few sighs and rolling of eyes, the thin, athletically built man turned to look at the rest of the assembled group. He was bare-chested, wearing a pair of leggings and an immaculately decorated breechcloth. He wore beaded wristbands, and beaded moccasins. He had dark, coppery skin and long black hair, controlled by a simple headband and a tie that allowed the ponytail to hang loose down his back. He wore a few pouches and a primitive looking axe tucked in and around a highly decorative belt. "Well met, friends. My name is Italapate, and I was born on the Rock, as was my father before me," he said. "My grandparents however, were from the Plains of Poscadar, or more accurately the Tlingtuan coastal Nation. Also on Realmspace, so you see, while not brothers, we are at least distant cousins..." His eyes seemed to sparkle at the joke. One that at least he thought was funny.
Taking a step forward, a young boy, no, a halfling, judging by the fur on his feet, waves. "Uh... Hi. I'm Billy. Guess we'll be working together for the next little while, huh." He smiles, almost apologetically.
The halfling is tall for one of his kind. Standing just over the three- and-a-half foot mark, he is relatively slim, looking like a young human boy of about 9 years. His head is topped by a mass of curly brown locks hanging down almost to his neck. This is matched by the hair growing on the tops of his furry little feet. His brown eyes and tan complexion completes the impression one gets of a creature emerging from rich loamy earth: overall "brownness". This impression is amplified by his method of dress: brown breeches, a tan tunic, all covered in a drab brown cloak. The only thing that stands out is his bright green vest that he wears over his tunic. At his belt on the left hangs a shortsword and slung over his back is a large sack. A closed bolt case hangs at his right hip next to two small belt pouches.
He drops his sack to the ground and it falls open. You see the stock of a crossbow and what appears to be a leather hauberk. Billy absently kicks the sack closed with one of his feet. He thrusts his hands in his vest pockets, leaving his thumbs sticking out. "Anyone know who the captain is?" he asks rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet to his toes.
"I'm afraid I am as in the dark about the captain as you are, woge," Italapate said to Billy. Then he folded his arms across his chest and smiled. It was going to be an adventure, of that he was certain.
"Woge? What does that mean? I am not familiar with the word," said Billy smiling up to the man.
"Ah," says Italapate, "I am glad that you asked. In the Plains, all heroes, if they are abnormal in size are Little People. Villains are always portrayed as stupid, giant creatures. The woge are little people from the legends of the Tlingtuan Nations. They are helpful, sometimes mischievous characters, that are sometimes portrayed as Immortal." He smiles broadly at Billy. "It really is a compliment."
Already reviewing the rigging is a young man (early 20's) with dark brown hair hanging loose over his shoulders. He wears an outfit of leather but beneath the covering can be seen a very lean and solid body. The muscles do not bulge, but they are apparent, as there is little fat on his body. He moves from station to station with a gracefulness and ease that appears almost as if he were floating. Upon his back can be seen a full battle axe and at his waist are three hand axes. He reaches overhead and tries for a rope that is suspended above him, however his six foot frame does not allow him to reach. Without even a hesitation he leaps and his arm quickly grabs hold and suspends his body easily. Feeling comfortable that the rigging is sound he turns and moves toward the crowd of newcomers on board.
His face is handsome and strong, with an air of dignity and pride showing forth from his gray-blue eyes. As he approaches he nods, but does not smile as his manner is strictly for business. It is obvious he feels comfortable aboard the ship, and there is no hesitation in his movements towards the others.
"Greetings Talus," he looks to the others, "men. My name is Radick, but you may have heard references to me as The Axe or something along those lines. I come from Realmspace as well, Dragon Rock to be exact." He offers his hand to Talus (handshake) as his eyes scan the group. He then steps back into the center of the deck with his arms crossed and looks upon the others. At this point a ring can be seen on his hand. Those near enough see it to be a signet ring with carving of a battle-axe with two crossed hand axes.
One of the new hirees, a slightly depressed look on his face, clears his throat to draw attention, "My name is Holland Wellhouse, I am a Helmsman," is all he says. Holland stands about 5'11", and has black hair with a silver streak running through the center. His eyes are a piercing gray and seem to see everything. He is a normal-enough looking human. Around him he wears a black cloak with the hood currently pulled down. His hands are at his waist pulling the cloak apart. Underneath can be seen more black clothing as well as a simple looking dagger at his waist.
A young woman walks up the wharf. She tosses her head in an effort to keep her unruly light brown hair out of her eyes. She is clothed in a vibrant red robe and wears an expensive looking necklace with matching earrings. She is by no means unattractive.
She pauses and eyes her shipmates. A faint smile flickers across her face. As people turn to look at her, she speaks.
"Well met, shipmates." She eyes Talus, and especially Radick.
"My name is Leera, and I, too, hail from what folk here seem to call Realmspace. In truth, I am only recently arrived, and lack a full understanding of the workings of this strange place. It is comforting to know that I share the bond of a common heritage with at least some of my shipmates."
She gazes up at the riggings that Radick was checking.
"I am well versed in the handling of ships that sail upon the seas, but find myself at a loss to explain how a ship can sail the very heavens. Nevertheless, I have been hired as a helmsman. Perhaps one of my more experienced shipmates <glancing at Radick> will, as they say, show me the ropes?"
Radick looks directly at the woman's face and then as Holland speaks up he turns his head towards the man but keeps his eyes on Leera. "Holland, if you and Raken are willing, please keep an eye on Leera and help her out. It seems our captain has decided to hire on some grounders for their first trip beyond. Maybe we'll get lucky and make it through a journey or two before her first major mistake." Knowing his words may have hurt her feelings he smiles at her, but just for an instant, as he quickly looks again to the others so as not to appear as if he is interested in only her.
Looking down at Billy, Leera comments: "I, too, would like to know the identity of our captain. For that matter, it would be nice to know our cargo and destination. Both must indeed be important. I have been told that this is, in truth, a very good-paying berth."
As the various crewmen introduce themselves, several notice a hooded figure leaning against the mainmast, his face lost in the shadow of his cloak. He seems completely disinterested in the conversation, as it seems that he is observing a distant nebula. The crowd eventually converges upon him, intrigued by the mysterious figure. "I suppose it's my turn," he says before anyone can speak, "very well." He draws back his hood, revealing the unremarkable features of a handsome human male, barely an adult. Except for the goatee, there seems nothing particular about him. At his side is a sheathed scimitar, hooked on an impressive, black snakeskin sword belt. He wears what appears to be a black suede jacket, simple pants, and sturdy boots. An ordinary duffel bag sits at his feet, with a thick oak staff placed atop it. "I am Raken, of the Celestrial Druidic order of Celestrian, Greyspace Circle. I am both a helmsman and a healer. I believe that you will find my services invaluable." He turns back to the stars. "Where is that captain? I grow weary of this place. The stars call, our destiny is before us."
"Destiny? Bah!" booms a deep, loud voice. Behind you stands a tall, bull-headed humanoid, easily over seven and a half feet tall. His skin is as dark as the deep brown fur that covers his face and is uniformly covered with a mat of fine hair. He wears a large, brown leather vest that is barely discernible over his dark, burly chest. A leather skirt extends from a black girdle at his waist to the middle of his thick thighs. Extraordinarily large leather boots cover his feet. He carries a large battle-axe in his left hand loosely, almost as if he wants you to think he's not on his guard.
"I am Deigatt, recently of Geb," he proclaims, his voice again booming, "and newly hired to this vessel. I've served on only one voyage through space thus far, but it was a lengthy voyage and I have learned much about navigating the stars. I am looking forward to a good, steady, and safe voyage, and I hope you are as well."
He glances quickly at the halfling, then adjusts his backpack a little higher on his back. Silently he eyes each of the crewmembers that have introduced themselves and then looks to those who have not. His expression is unreadable.
"Are you always that bombastic?" a voice suddenly asks from behind the minotaur's head. The minotaur turned around to look at the source of the mysterious voice. A second later, a being sprang from the top of the high crate and landed surly on his feet with the smoothness of... a cat. Standing 5'10", and looking like he was made of pure muscle, the stranger was wearing a dark brown, hooded cloak and trousers. That didn't hide his upright, pointed ears, slightly clawed feet and hands, and a coat of fine fur that appeared to cover every part of his body. His coat was largely dark brown in color, with black highlights and stripes, like those of a tiger. His eyes were a rather disturbing shade of green, and his decidedly feline face was largely light gray. Whatever this man was, he wasn't a human or demi-human. "My name is Fidalie Kymbia," he said in a smooth, silky voice that was a semi- whisper. "As for where I'm from, let's just say it's a long way from here, and I don't plan on going back there any time soon." Without another word, Fidalie effortlessly sprang on top of another crate and joined everyone else in waiting for the captain and senior crew. As he settled himself down on the crate, he cast a quick glance at the human woman - Leera - and made a quick, but barely audible sound that most would call a "purr." As soon as he looked away, whatever expression his face might have had quickly vanished behind the stone-cold gaze of those piercing green eyes...
Eventually the eyes of the group waiting by the ship turn to a tall -- almost seven feet -- male hadozee. His fur is a dull orange color, but the beard-like patch under his chin is dyed russet. He doesn't wear any armor or clothes, but has an oddly shaped backpack -- with two sword hilts sticking out of it -- by his feet.
Sensing the gazes of the others, the hadozee looks up from the stick he's carving up with a dagger and scans the crowd with his black eyes. "I'm Grigree," he says with a bit of a growl in his voice. "I'm not from Realmspace, but I've been there." With that, he goes back to concentrating on the stick in his hand. He gazes up occasionally to watch the newcomers introduce themselves.
The man who introduced himself as Holland earlier speaks again."If it would not be too much of an imposition could all of those who have been hired as Helmsmen come over here. I would like to talk with all of you."
Holland then moves a bit away from the rest of the group and awaits the other Helmsmen who design to talk with him.
Glancing at Radick, Leera moves over to talk with Holland and Raken.
Deigatt stands tall, facing generally toward the Flowfish, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the captain. He mumbles something about "women, children, and animals" in his deep, resonant voice but looks at no one directly, although he frequently casts an appraising eye toward dark- cloaked Holland.
Italapate watched as the (presumably) mages wandered off to be alone. He turned and saw the cat-man crouching atop a crate, and the huge minotaur grumbling briefly to himself. "Bombastic, tabaxi?" Italapate laughed, patting the huge Deigatt on the chest. "With a set of lungs like that, that was positively a whisper!"
Fidalie put on a sarcastic grin. "I just hope he doesn't snore," he said wryly.
As a few people move towards the man who called himself Holland, a deep, booming yet somehow feminine voice echoes across the docks. "'PON MY SOUL, LT SABBAGH! THIS IS THE SORRIEST GROUP OF DIRTKICKERS THEY'VE YET SENT ME!" The voice echoes from a 9 foot tall, 600 pound hippopotamus- headed, female humanoid. Moving from the doorway of the Flowfish's forward passage she moves next to the gangplank and stands there, hands on her hips. She is dressed in an elaborate purple naval officer's dress uniform with gold trim. Her skin is a tannish pink, her hair course, black, and tied in a pony tail beneath her purple tricorner hat. A large cutlass hangs from a black leather baldric and two wheel-lock pistols are shoved into her belt. When she snorts you can feel the breeze on the wharf. "Well, come aboard!" she says in a moderately less deafening voice. After you've all filed across and assembled before you she snorts loudly again, "I am Post-Captain Wilhemina of the House Moune Tradesman Flowfish. You are joining my crew because I can smell a troublemaker a mile away and Lady Moune likes problems sniffed out before they move on to less demanding captains. There are just two types of people on my ship: officers and hands. Some hands work the sails and man the weapons. Others man the helm. All take their turn at galley and cleanup duty." She places her massive hands behind her back and begins pacing back and forth before you "The Flowfish typically stays insphere, making the regular runs to the House Moune farming asteroids. Occasionally we will be used for an out of sphere run. You will get paid each time we make landfall. We leave today on the regular route. I hope, as instructed, you've taken care of any personal business ashore, there will be no time now. In twenty minutes the blasted stevedores will start loading supplies on board, you are all to be back up here to help stow that gear. This is Lt. Sabbagh" she motions to a plain man of maybe thirty, his dirty blond hair cropped close to his skull. He wears chainmail and has a hammer hanging from his belt. "He's the first mate and chief helmsman. Lt. Sand is the 2nd mate and navigator. We are the only three officers aboard. Each of you will be assigned to a watch shift, and battle stations. Now, go below and stow your gear. Lt. Sabbagh will show you where your quarters are."
As the giff bellows her commands to the crew, Raken seems to hardly take interest. Noticing his complete lack of attention, the giff heads over to repeat her commands. "I heard you, Miss Wilhemina. I would rather like to avoid the crowd as they rush to find bunks." Without turning away from the nebula he had been watching, he reaches down and picks up his duffel bag.
Before his hand can reach his bag a massive giff hand has grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him 3 feet off the deck. Raken finds himself inches from the captain's face. "You will call me Captain, or Captain Wilhemina. You will call me by my title or you will leave this ship at once. I do not repeat my orders." She lets go and Raken falls to the deck on his arse.
Raken looks up at the towering giff, and picks himself up and replaces his hood. "Aye, Captain," he says. Unseen in the shadows of his hood, he smiles at his own humility. He picks up his bag, and walks to the cargo deck. "Women," his lips silently mouth, and he joins the crew down below.
Favoring you all with a half smile Lt. Sabbagh turns and leads the way down the forward passage, pointing out things as he leads you through the passageways below towards the crew quarters. Once there he says, "This will be your quarters. Fifteen bunks stacked five high, work out among yourselves who sleeps where." He glances at the minotaur. "The bunks can all fold up, for those who may need one or two of the empty bunks above them. Stow your gear and head on back up, all hands will be piped to load cargo soon." With that he turns and strides away.
Running a hand through his hair, Kain chuckles and turns to Talus, "Looks like you were more right than you knew. All I've yet to see is a Xixza...Xicha...ah hells, you know what I'm tryin' to say," he finishes mumbling. A somewhat surprised looks crosses his face when Kain opens his mouth again and says, loud enough for all to hear, "Ah, bottom bunk, anyone object?"
Unless someone voices their displeasure, Kain moves to one of the bottom bunks, carefully places his rucksack down, then takes off his cloak. Slipping out of his backpack, which must have been concealed beneath the cloak, Kain quickly stows that beside his rucksack. Sitting on the edge of his bunk, Kain watches the others put their gear away, moving out of the way when required but always returning to sit on the bunk.
Holland quickly doffs his backpack, cloak and boots and places them on the top bunk nearest the door. Holland is all dressed in black from head to toe, the silver streak through his hair clashing with his black ensemble. The only visible weapon is a dagger sheathed at his waist.
Holland passes a hand over his cloak, boots and backpack and mumbles a few words and then nods his head in satisfaction. He quickly jumps down from the bunk and says, "See you all up top," before heading out the door.
Billy nearly jumps out of his skin when Post-Captain Wilhemina made her appearance, clapping his hands over his ears. He shakes his head in apparent disbelief. When Lt. Sabbagh leads everyone to the bunk room, Billy follows walking next to Italapate. He stares appreciatively at Leera and winks. Once in the bunk house, he waits to see who takes which bunk, and then quickly climbs up the ladder to the topmost bunk against the aft bulkhead.
He deposits his sack and pouches on the bunks. He takes off his green vest that he carefully folds and pats it almost affectionately. Billy then lowers himself down from his bunk landing on the deck with a soft thump. He smiles at Fidalie and dashes out the door, his bare feet slapping softly as he goes.
Fidalie smiles back, then, after the halfling was gone from sight, patted himself over the make sure he hadn't had anything pilfered.
With but a moment's hesitation, Leera walks over to a stack of bunks and tosses her backpack and cloak onto one of the top ones. She then gracefully climbs up and sits, her legs dangling over the side. She fidgets momentarily, readjusting the two long daggers that hang from her belt. She swings her legs as she sits gazing out across the room.
Those looking directly at her notice that she looks slightly different than she did outside. The light onboard must not be as flattering as the sunlight outside. Still, she remains anything but unattractive.
Leera listens intently to the conversations around her. She smiles as the halfling takes a top bunk near her and then scampers from the room.
Once Holland and Raken have left the room, Leera hops down from her perch. She looks for a long moment at Holland's bunk, and then turns to speak to Radick.
"I thank you for your earlier vote of confidence. You needn't worry, though. I'm sure that the captain keeps a short leash upon grounders."
Leera then turns and walks up to find Holland on the main deck.
Italapate seems unconcerned by the loud speech of the Captain, Wilhemina. "''PON MY BONES, DEIGATT!" he mimics the Captain, "AND I THOUGHT YOU HAD LUNGS!"
He leisurely follows the rest of the group on the tour of the Ship, pausing and investigating whatever takes his notice, which can be the smallest of things. "Do you have rats?" he asks looking at a small hollow where the wall met the floor. Shrugging, he continues to follow the tour.
He enters the bunk room and frown when he sees that all the top bunks are taken. Already people are starting to leave. He exaggeratedly steps aside to let Billy by.
He takes a running start toward the back of the room, leaping and swinging himself into one of the middle bunks on his right side. He bounces slightly on the worn mattress, the old bed creaking in protest. "I claim, in the name of Prince Andru, this bunk, for the official representative of the Government of the Rock of Bral!" He rolls over. "The envoy will now take his midday nap, wake me when its time to eat!"
Exaggerated snoring ensues...
Talus looks around the cramped cabin unhappily, "I hope none of you snore for real," he comments with a glance at the minotaur.
The half-elf throws his small pack onto the bunk under Leera, then heads back up to the deck wondering where he will be able to get some earplugs.
As Radick rejoins the others on the deck he walks to Talus. "Hope you don't mind friend, but Leera said something about wishing to be sleeping on top of me, being a gentleman I assumed she meant the bunk above so I moved your stuff down one more bunk. I hope you don't mind, and I doubt you'll be hearing much snoring."
He then prepares for the loading of the cargo. Drawing forth a rope he quickly fashions it into a crate strap so he can carry boxes on his back. It appears that he has done this task many times before, as his hands seem to perform the action without any thought on his part.
About halfway through the twenty minutes, when everyone begins going back up to the main deck, Kain unbuttons his sleeveless jerkin, takes it and the shirt underneath off, and then unstraps the dagger he has sheathed on each forearm. Tucking the daggers and sheaths into his backpack, Kain kicks off his boots and stockings as he rebuttons his jerkin.
Making sure all his gear is secure, Kain makes his way back topside, looking to lend a hand where needed.
When Raken reaches the crew quarters, he looks around at the crowded conditions, and tosses his bag, almost as an afterthought, in the last available bunk. He removes his deep blue cloak, and also tosses it upon the bed. As he passes the minotaur, he speaks. "You have a lot to learn, my friend," he says, almost a whisper. He doesn't wait for the minotaur's reaction, instead heading for the top deck.
Deigatt claims the three lowest bunks closest to the door and wonders if the weight of one will support his bulk. He places his great axe as well as some supplies from his backpack onto the second lowest bunk before folding it up against the wall of the cabin.
His eyes grow wide with indigence as the furry-chinned druid's whispered words worm their way through his thoughts. As quickly he checks his anger and looks to those left in the cabin, concerned that his brief, undisciplined reaction has been noticed.
Besides, he thinks, what the young human had said was true despite its intent: I do have a great deal to learn, and I intend to do so.
Deigatt follows the halfling to the upper deck.
Grigree follows the group into the room and takes a quick look around. Seeing there's only one remaining top bunk, he nimbly climbs up to it and puts his backpack near the pillow. He scans the room from his perch, watching the other people leave back up towards the cargo hold. As minotaur leaves, Grigree follows him out.
The tabaxi lightly padded over to one of the middle bunks, near one of the small windows in the tradesman's hull. When he got there he noticed that the being across and above from his newly chosen bunk was a hadozee, apparently named Grigree.
"Well," Fidalie said softly to the deck ape, "I guess this is where they keep crew members with excessive body hair."
Grigree gives a short snort and smiles. "Guess they think we have fleas." Before the tabaxi has a chance to move to far away, Grigree says, "I've never seen one of your kind traveling alone before, especially as hired help. What brings you out here?" With that, he jumps down to the floor and waits for a response.
Fidalie quickly looked around the bunk, then stowed his small, custom made pack into the bunk. He made certain that the special lock was firmly clasped. He didn't want anyone snooping into his personal belongings.
He checked his wakizashi for what must have been the fifth time in as many minutes, and then two small daggers that were strapped to his thighs. He didn't think he would need his weapons for the moment, but then again, why take chances? Satisfied, he silently padded out of the room.
Upon reaching the deck, Holland walks over to Lt. Sabbagh and says, "Sir, where can I help?"
Lt. Sabbagh glances and Holland and says "You're one of them helmsmen, right? One of the one's who's helmed before?" Holland nods. "Well, just pitch in when the cargo arrives. Captain doesn't like to see idle hands." Grinning Lt. Sabbagh walks away towards the stern, whistling.
Holland nods his head and says, "Yes Sir," and then leans up against the railing taking a brief rest while waiting for the cargo to arrive.
Holland motions Leera and Raken over and talks with them for a few moments while waiting for the cargo to show up.
Waiting on deck with the rest of the group, Talus frowns in thought and looks around the ship, "I wonder why they needed to hire a whole new crew, mostly groundlings at that." The half-elf glances at Raken and grins, "Maybe the captain got upset with the crew on the last trip and threw them all over the side."
"We're not all groundlings", says Billy. "I have been sailing the skies and oceans for as long as I can remember. My adoptive father, Captain Mortimer Bingly, raised me as his own. I don't know who my real parents are and don't really have a home. I have just recently been released from my father's service and am now on my own for the first time."
As he finishes his sentence, the cargo arrives. He scampers down the gang plank and helps as well as he can, carrying the smaller packages and crates.
As everyone wanders back up to the deck several large carts arrive on the dock, pulled by longshoreman. The Captain steps onto the wharf and begins speaking with the longshoremen's foreman as a white-haired old man with a peg leg blows four short blasts on a high pitched whistle, echoing through the ships.
"That's Lt. Sands" Lt. Sabbagh says to those nearby "And that signal means report for work detail. If he blows a short blast over and over that means general quarters." As Lt. Sabbagh speaks the veteran crew members begin filing out onto the deck as well. In addition to Lt. Sands, Lt. Sabbagh, and the Captain there are eleven veteran hands on board.
The Captain turns towards the ship and calls "'Pon my soul, Lt. Sabbagh, this cargo will not load itself. Let's get a move on!" With a grin Lt. Sabbagh gets everyone moving, loading the cargo into the two lower holds. Cranes are set up to lower the heavy boxes of tools and equipment. The loading proceeds relatively quickly, the Captain urging people on with the occasional "'Pon my soul! If you don't move faster we'll be here a tenday from now!" For all her bluster you see the veteran crew members take her admonishments with a good humor, and she lends her own massive strength to the task as well. In fact, everyone except Lt. Sands, who stands at the gangplank checking everything off a list as it comes aboard, carries lifts, and secures the cargo. Within a quick half hour the cargo of tools, wine, ale, and textiles, as well as some weapons and personal orders have been loaded aboard.
Italapate starts helping with the loading of supplies, whistling softly to himself. "Did I ever tell you how Coyote placed the moon in the sky?" he loudly asks whomever is within earshot. "It's an interesting story, in which the trickster caused humans to die a final death." The young man helps a crewman lift an awkward crate. "Coyote's wife had died, mmmph, and he was very sad. Eagle, who had lost his own wife, said to him, 'Don't mourn, Coyote,' Eagle said, 'That will not bring your wife back. Come walk with me.'" Italapate skips down the gangplank after setting the first crate down. "'Pon my soul," he mimics the Captain, "This job will be done in no time!"
Continuing his story, Italapate said, "So Coyote follows Eagle to the land where Old Woman swallows the moon. Whenever she does so, all of the dead mill about the cave mouth where the moon was. Then Old Woman disgorges the moon, and all the dead return to the spirit cave." He grabs hold of another crate. "So Eagle and Coyote come up with a plan. They kill Old Woman, and Coyote puts on her dress. Then Eagle gets a box and fills it with dead leaves. Coyote swallows the moon and the dead mill about. Eagle captures the dead when they emerge, trapping them in the box. Then Coyote disgorges the moon and tosses it up in the sky, where it has remained ever since." Again, the young man darts down the gangplank, looking to help with another crate. "But the story doesn't end there, oh, no, not with Coyote, it is never easy. Eagle carries the crate, as the two travelers try to return to the Middle Earth. Coyote begs and begs to carry the box, and finally Eagle tires, both of carrying the crate and of Coyotes nagging. 'Here', Eagle says, 'But be careful'. Well, Coyote gets anxious to see his wife so he opens the crate before they get to Middle Earth. All of the dead escape in a cloud, and Eagle becomes angry. 'If you had waited, then all humans would die then return in the spring like the leaves I placed in the box. But now, humans will all die one death and never return." Italapate concludes, "So, thanks to Coyote's impatience, men lost the chance for eternal life..."
"Lt. Sabbagh," the Captain calls "Take the helm if you please. I'll not have on of these groundlings wrap us around a wharf leaving port!" She strides to the quarter-deck calling "Bosun Cudak, see that the older hands take the lines. Have the newer hands watch for now."
Radick shakes his head as hears the command but immediately moves to aid one of the veterans. As the old-timer begins to question, he interrupts, "Don't worry, I've been on these for years now, and if you want to do it yourself that is fine, but I am not one to collect pay for standing and watching."
Before anybody has a chance to start carrying out the captain's orders, Grigree speaks up. "Unlike some of the other new crew, I've got quite a bit of experience with ships, including tradesmen. I'd much rather put my skills to use helping out than sitting around watching. Maybe I could even help train the new people." He waits for a response.
"You watch until I've a chance to see if you know your hand from your arse. Pulling out of the Rock requires a skilled crew who work well together. I'll not turn my ship over to you here, untried!" the captain calls "You!" she says to Radick, "If you're so all fired determined to be useful go inventory the catapult ammunition! You can join him, hadozee." She turns to Lt. Sabbagh "'Pon my soul, Lt., but their already questioning orders!" Shaking her head the captain returns to watching the veterans work the ship out.
Grigree follows Radick over to the pile of stones. "Inventory the catapult ammunition?" Grigree mumbles to himself just barely within Radick's earshot. "Ya mean all twenty rocks?"
"Listen, when you are working on a ship, you do what you are told. You make nice with the officers and you keep your nose clean. The captain is right, she gave an order and we disobeyed and questioned. That kind of behavior can not be tolerated. Of course if she were to abuse her authority then it would be a different story - give her time to see our talents, then she'll come around to letting us do more." Radick says.
Grigree looks up, a bit surprised. "I know, I know. But I would have given us latrine duty for a week. Maybe she's starting to like us already," he says with a small nudge of the elbow and a smile.
"You have a point there, but I would guess it is because she is a fair captain. I'll tell you one thing, I hope not to wrong her again." responds Radick as he struggles to stack the catapult shots.
So, with the Captain watching from the quarter-deck with her hands on her hips the Flowfish eases out from the docks and heads into the wildspace surrounding the Rock. It's obvious that the older hands have worked together a long time, the run like a well oiled machine.
The ship's first destination is the House Moune farming asteroid Torik's Luck, a trip of about 5 days at this point. From there it's a two day hop to the second asteroid, Finagle, and six back to the Rock. With a 12 hour stopover at each a 14 day or so trip.
Lt. Sabbagh makes use of the time well, assigning you all to watches and battle stations fairly quickly. The ship's routine seems fairly straight forward. There are two sail watches, who rotate 12 hours on, 12 hours off. The veterans are in one; the PC sail hands in the other. The veterans do little during their shift, as the course alters very little. They take turn's standing watch and otherwise occupy the time. During the PC's watch Lt. Sabbagh and Bosun Cudak seem to be ever present, and the course changes course constantly to give practice in sail handling.
After the first day Lt. Sabbagh and Lt. Sands do not take the helm, instead the three PC helmsman take 8 hour shifts. The helmsmen are required to sleep immediately after their helmshift (their tired anyway) and start their free time by memorizing spells. One of the officers is always on the bridge, checking the course and keeping an eye on things, though they seem to have no set schedule. Leera, Holland, and Raken were apparently hired as helmsmen.
When off duty everyone except the Bosun and officers takes turns on galley duty, helping the cook Abigowia, and latrine duty.
Battle stations are fairly simple. The Captain is on the forecastle; Lt. Sabbagh is on the sterncastle, and Lt. Sands on the bridge. The veterans are assigned to the two rear ballistae and sail handling duties. Billy and Radick are assigned to man the light catapult. Off duty helmsmen are to join the Captain on the forecastle, and everyone else is to assemble on the main deck ready to repel boarders or become boarders themselves.
Over the five days it takes to reach Torik's Luck you get to know a little about each other, and a little about the rest of the crew. For the most part the veteran hands are friendly but somewhat cliquish. They tend to spend more time with each other then with any of you- partially because of how the watches were arranged.
Billy gravitates towards the veteran deck hands, talking about his life with his adopted father on the galleon Triloshane, evidently feeling comfortable around humans. They are polite but keep their distance as with all the other new hands. He diligently learns the use of the light catapult, practicing with Radick when the occasion arises, using chamber pot bombs as ammunition. When he has free time, Billy usually hangs around in the rigging, literally staring out into space.
During Leera's first shift at the Helm, Holland stands by her and says, "If you would like, I could give you some pointers and basic theories of the Helms. I have had awhile to learn them."
Leera smiles as she replies. "Certainly, I would greatly appreciate anything you would care to share."
Holland seems happy to talk with her."It is hard to explain what the feeling is like when you are sitting in a Helm. Your consciousness expands to include the entire ship. It is as if the ship is an extension of your own body. You can feel people moving around as well as damage to the ship. The damage doesn't hurt you physically but it is quite discomforting."
Holland thinks for a second and then continues, "The best way to describe the physical feeling is like when your arm falls asleep and you get that pins and needles feeling. That is what your entire body feels like when Jamming. Another thing that I personally like is you can see outside of the ship in all directions for as far as your eye can see. It is wonderful to gaze upon the stars this way."
Kain emerges from below deck when the time for the new hands' first watch begins. When the course changes begin to show, he smiles faintly, shrugs once, then steps lively to help make the necessary adjustments on the sailing deck. His hands move of their own accord as Kain gazes over the starboard bow. When finished he looks down at the knots his hands have tied, double checks his work then sits upon the deck. After a few short moments, Kain rises, and walks to the stern castle. Spying a loose length of rope, he sets to making a coil of it, placing it back where he found it when he's done. Unable to sit still, Kain tucks his thumbs behind his sword belt and begins pacing the deck. With the change of the sail watches, Kain retires to this bunk long enough to recover his rucksack, then returns topside. Sitting where he'll be as out of the way as possible, Kain tucks his right foot over his left thigh and his left foot over his right thigh, placing a large tome pulled from his rucksack in his lap. Sitting with his eyes closed for what is perhaps twenty minutes, Kain looks relaxed as he pulls himself from his trance, reaching into his rucksack again and retrieving a lead pencil from a small oaken box. As he sits, Kain's pencil flashes across a blank page of the now open tome. Between his meditation and sketches, Kain finishes a self allotted hour of relaxation. Save for kitchen and latrine duty, Kain keeps to his routine through the first five days of the trip, though he seems more at ease with each day that passes. By the third day, he has lost the slouch that characterized his shoulders, and by the fifth day, Kain is smiling more often than not, and has begun keeping eye contact through what conversations he has, instead of looking around the person he is speaking with.
Italapate wanders around the ship on his watch, chatting eagerly with whomever will listen. He proves to be an avid listener, despite appearances (it seems like he never shuts up). His new favorite phrase is "'Pon my soul!" and he shouts it out even when it doesn't seem to fit into the conversation. The veteran crew members avoid him like the plague and Italapate soon finds himself on permanent latrine and galley duty.
On his first watch, he pulls a gold piece from one pouch on his belt and puts it into a larger one. He bows his head, singing a chant in a language you probably never heard before. Then he draws the gold piece from his larger pouch and flings it as far as he can over the side of the ship. Then he smiles, pulls out two silver pieces and hands one to Talus and one to Fidalie, who happen to be closest to him at the time. "Here, have fun! Try not to spend them in one place!" Then he continues to move toward the front of the ship ("What was that the Captain called it? Starboard? Forecastle? Stern?")
Talus looks at the human with a bemused expression, the shrugs and bites on the coin before stowing it in his pouch. He is not going to refuse someone giving him money. Maybe he will get the gold coin next time. The half-elf generally ignores Italapate whenever he goes off telling his stories, knowing from experience that the priestly inclined rarely make sense, and seem to talk to hear their own voices.
Talus approaches duties such as latrine duty with a marked reluctance, but realizes that someone has to do it, and as long as everyone else has to take their turn he will endure.
The young half-elf prefers to spend his spare time on the deck, never tiring of the view around the ship. He also approaches Holland, asking about guiding the ship, and traveling through space.
Talus spends some time each day reviewing his spell book.
Holland makes time every day to help Abigowia with the cooking. With Holland's great skill at Herbalism and Cooking (and the occasional wave of the hand to produce fresh herbs and seasonings) he entrenches himself next to Abigowia as much as his schedule will let him, talking with and showing Abigowia recipes that he knows of and listening to her in return though making it clear that Abigowia is the Galley's Mistress and Holland is there merely to help. Their skills are, in fact, roughly equal. Holland takes great pains to learn the names of the 'old-hands' but finds his efforts (except with the cook) to be relatively unfruitful.
Since Holland's schedule is different from the rest of the new recruits, Holland tries to chat with them when both they and he have the time available. Holland makes it known that he too is from Realmspace and has spent the last few years aboard different Jammers as a Helmsman. Holland also explains that he is looking for an old companion that he has lost touch with over the years. He describes the man to each of you (and the 'old-hands' as well) but seems let down when no one recognizes the description.
Holland spends a lot of time lying on his bunk studying his spell-book to relearn his spells. Whenever he is finished he replaces the book in his backpack and waves his hands over the pack and mumbles a few words before leaving them.
During the trip, Raken spends most of his free time either conversing with various crewmen, or simply vanishes altogether. When on deck, he can been seen conversing with the helmsman Holland, apparently trading stories about gods and magic. Holland, along with a few other crewmen, listen intently as Raken details the various rumors surrounding the destruction of Borka, in his homesphere. "The elves claim, of course, that it was their gods that destroyed Borka, in an act of retribution. A few of the goblins still in space have made the claim that it was the orcish gods themselves that smashed it, seeing that the Borkans were 'unworthy.' Some in my order, however, believe that it was a misused artifact that did the damage; they cannot bring themselves to believe that either power group would have such power to crush worlds without help. I've even heard one tale that states that some unnamed god woke up on the wrong side of the universe and accidentally kicked it while trying to stumble to a water world to wash up, though I couldn't get the kender who told me that one to name that god," he states with a small smile. Several crewmen start laughing. While off duty, he notes Leera on deck and walks over. "Enjoying the view? You asked earlier for pointers in wildspace; want them now?" She nods affirmative. "First thing to remember: everything you've learned, throw it out. This is wildspace; the rules don't apply. Even the laws of physics, and more importantly, the laws of magic change with each sphere. Magic is rarely reliable outside of the so-called "known spheres." Second: not everything is as it seems. Look at this crew. On the ground, many would be termed "monster," like our friend the minotaur, but here, they are comrades in arms, even friends. Every race found in the stars has it's good and bad members. Unfortunately, many races are ruled by the "bad" members, creating a negative image of the race as a whole. Third: look to the stars," he notes her puzzled look, "when spelljamming or on watch, always watch the stars. When they move, that usually indicates a nearby ship. Planets, comets, and moons move rapidly, but the great distances that the light from those objects is so great that they're apparent movement is tiny. In the vacuum of space, there are no shooting stars; only asteroids. If you spot a star moving rapidly, alert someone, preferably an officer, quickly. Sometimes it's an asteroid, and some maneuvers may be needed to avoid it. If it's a ship, we may need to maneuver quickly to avoid her. Pirates would love a small, poorly armed tradesman like this as a target. Note that this does not always work; some pirates paint their ship black to minimize light reflection and run with all lights out."
Looking up from a half-finished drawing in his tome, pencil held just above the page, Kain listens to the counsel Raken gives Leera. "'tis good sound advice Raken gives ma'am," he says, eyes flickering once to Leera's before looking away. "Um, and in my short time aboard 'jammers, there's only one more thing to add, and that's when traveling in the flow, between the spheres." Glancing from Raken to Leera again Kain goes on. "Ah, yes, that is, when in the phlogiston, fire is exceptionally bad. Matches burn like torches torches like a mages fireball...at least that's what the mate on the last ship I was on said. I trusted him enough not to strike flint to steel and see." Kain smiles, perhaps the most endearing feature of his face is this smile, standing out against his average nose, slightly large ears, and narrow, square jaw. Forgetting himself momentarily, Kain says, "I begin to love this sailing of space as I love the waters of my homeworld. Though I do miss the song of the gulls and the smell of the sea. Yes," he adds, "I like that," as he turns again to his art, scribbling the words in the upper corner of one page.
Radick enjoys the drills as it gives him something to do as he spends his hours on shift. Often he points out to some of the lesser skilled recruits how they can better tie the knots and how to time the adjustments so as to best benefit the speeds. He always finishes with a quick smile and a compliment. It seems to most that while he is working the lines he is happiest.
Radick makes a point of also complimenting the helmsman, especially Leera as they head back to their bunks. He seems to truly enjoy the companionship aboard the ship, and spends his available off duty hours working with Billy to fully become fluent in the workings of the light catapult. Of all the tasks he performs this is the one he does with the least amount of enjoyment. He watches many of the others using their time to drill in hand to hand combat and he remembers back to many previous journeys. After a few days he asks Deigatt if he would like to work on some axe-play, but he is quick to point out that the "big-guy" will have to go easy on him.
Deigatt booms, "Mate Radick, I haccept your hinvitation to combat drilling. I'm confident you hunderestimate your hown talents hand will be a formidable hopponent, hat least for the first few minutes. Ha! I'm jesting. Come, let hus bout. You have served hin your world's military, perhaps?"
Radick looks tiny compared to the large opponent however he used his speed and agility to duck below the big man's blade, but is forced to jump back as the return stroke comes quicker then expected. "Mate Deigatt, I have no experience with military, my training comes from ship hands; but let us not talk too much, I need to concentrate or else I may end up in the dinner tonight." The practice battle lasts a minute or so with neither opponent getting the upper hand, although it is clear that Radick has been lucky several times in getting out of the way, meanwhile he has yet to register a decent offensive. Finally Radick sees his chance and springs back from the next swing and uses his axe to push his opponent's blade away far enough for him to get inside, however he is knocked to the ground as he underestimates the strength of Deigatt as he gets caught by the back swing which sends him to the ground, but as he falls he rolls and is out of the way long before any final stroke could have been dealt.
Radick pauses to look at the onlookers and wipes the sweat from his brow. He then puts down his axe and offers an arm forward to Deigatt. "More later?" he asks while gasping for breath. "I need a drink at this time, and I doubt our captain would condone our distracting the men from their duties." He approaches and slaps Deigatt on the back, "You fight well, I will watch you in combat. I have no doubt you can teach me more then the ship hands did."
The second night out Leera's sleep shift coincides with that of the PC hands, strange things happen in the bunk room.
Specifically, after Radick has fallen asleep, any PCs who remain awake hear muttering from his bunk, lamenting that he can not find his "pooky bear", and that "but mommy, all of the other boys got swords for their birthdays... I don't want no stupid axe!" Finally, those listening (probably now quite intently and with great amusement) hear him asking his mommy for his "nuk nuk", followed by slurping noises and then silence.
The next day Leera, when in earshot of several other shipmates asks Radick: "So, did mommy's wittle wun fowget to pack his nuk nuk?" She laughs and walks away.
"Pon my soul, Cookie," Italapate starts one day while peeling tubers, "Captain Wilhemina is harsh mistress, no? How long have you served under her?"
"Hold your tongue concerning the Captain ya young snipe. She gotten us through many a tight spot and there's not a manjack of this crew who wouldn't slit a vein to save her! Yer lucky Lt. Sabbagh just assigned ya to this, I'da fired you out the rear ballistae dead at the Rock! Now get scrubbing on those pans, they won't clean themselves." She then turns to Holland and says "Hmm. so you add how much anadian fireweed?"
"'Pon my soul, once again, Cookie!" Italapate ignores the pans for now, after all, he hasn't finished peeling the potatoes he was originally assigned. Then he looks up again and says simply, "And Coyote continued his travels, sometimes doing right, sometimes making mistakes, but always is he doing something. And all that is good and all that is bad were made by him." Upon finishing the potatoes, Italapate proceeds to clean the pots until they shine, sometimes whistling, sometimes softly pounding a rhythm with his fingertips.
The first mate later makes the time to speak with Italapate concerning his "enthusiasm". "Of course, mocking the Captain would be an offense against good order and discipline. She'd never respond directly but as first mate, if such continued, I'd be honor bound to have the offender catapulted off the ship. Not for the first offense, of course, or even the second. But if such were to continue, say after a friendly warning, I might have to do more then just assign someone to latrine and galley duty..." with a friendly smile Lt. Sabbagh prepares to continue about his day.
"'Pon my soul, Lt. Sabbagh," Italapate says, "One would think no one aboard this fine vessel has a sense of humor. Have I failed in some, in any duty assigned to me? Have I not approached even this despicable task set before me with enthusiasm and perfection? My Guardian Spirit has faced far worse, always with humor, and I can, I will do no less. Now if you think that I am not performing my duty, then be so kind as to say so... if your only problem with me is a lack of humor... well, maybe that is my purpose here..."
"I don't believe in lashing crew members, but when someone ignores a friendly warning that they're crossing the line it makes me wonder if I've chosen my ethics correctly. I see I must be more clear and forceful. You are not to mock the Captain. Your humor should find other, more appropriate targets. If I hear you speak the words ""Pon my Soul" again I will have you tried for disobedience of orders. Mocking the captain in front of the crew is a hanging offense on most company's ships, and is usually considered the same as instigating a mutiny. You are lucky I feel you are just trying to fit in." Lt. Sabbagh's face is deadly serious. Anyone can see he considers this matter very important. "This is your last warning."
The night after Radick was heard to mutter all types of embarrassing things in his sleep, Leera makes an announcement:
"Friends, I must admit to you that I have done our friend Radick a great disservice. The voice you may have heard coming from his bunk last night was not his own, but a trick of my Art. I realize that I was, perhaps, a bit cruel and childish, and so I publicly apologize."
She looks at Radick as if she expects him to say something.
"Likewise, I spoke out of turn against Leera, my comments were meant in fun and jest yet they could easily be misconstrued. Let it be said that my comment to Talus was not entirely true - Leera did speak to me but it had nothing to do with my sleeping accommodations. Her words were to comfort me regarding my earlier comment regarding her abilities. No one should take these comments to mean anything against Leera's abilities." responds Radick.
Later Leera regales the crew with a few stories:
{As she tells the story, the illusionary image before her changes to fit the current scene}
"... So we continued slogging through the sewers. I must tell you, I don't know why more evil creatures don't leave their treasure in sweet smelling orchards. But alas, it seems as if there is guild rule about it... the bigger the treasure, the smellier the hiding place."
"We continued discussing such philosophical matters as we slogged. Garth, my brave warrior friend carried with him the body of the child we had recovered from the rats...."
.... Later...
"With the child's body returned to its parents (I really don't know if they had the money to raise him) and all of the wererats killed by the watch, we again tromped through the sewers searching for the ratmen's treasure hoard. Suddenly, a ratman leaped out at us."
{A gasp goes through the audience as the illusion shows a huge ratman jump out in front of Leera and a large human she'd identified as Garth.}
"We were taken completely by surprise, and the abomination drove his sword through Garth's brave heart before either of us could move a muscle."
{The illusion turns gory as the viewers see an image of the wererat impaling Garth on a wicked-looking longsword.}
"Fortunately, I was able to use my Art to drive away the fierce creature."
{The illusion shows Leera throwing herself at the creature, which then pales as it turns and flees at top speed}
"I tried to save my friend, but his wounds were severe and there was nothing I could do. [She stifles a sniffle]"
"And so, even to this very day, the smell of sewage brings back horrid memories. Latrine duty is torture. Oh, if only I didn't have to do it! But the captain has decreed that we must all take turns. Alas."
Bosun Cudak suppresses a sniffle, then glares about to see if anyone was watching "Er...I'll talk to the first mate, lass, see if we can work something out." Again he glares about daring someone to say something then stomps off red-faced.
After Cudak departs, Deigatt lowers his head down toward Raken and Talus who are standing near him and says, "Human women're known for going to elaborate lengths to havoid work, but I have never hunderstood why their men let them do hit."
Talus grins wistfully at Leera, and replies to the minotaur, "The rewards can be great if you do as they wish. And if you don't they can make your life a living hell."
A few hours later Bosun Cudak stops and speaks to Leera, "The first mate says you should try putting a clothespin on your nose, to help with the memories." Cudak looks at the ground sheepishly, "Sorry." With that Cudak stalks off to splice some line.
Hearing Leera's sad story touches Billy's heart. After learning that she couldn't weasel out of latrine duty, he approaches the subject one morning as they were rising to start a new day. Looking across to her bunk, Billy says, "'Morning, Leera. How wouldja like a trade? If the Lt. allows it I would take on your latrine duties against my galley duties. All the counters and cupboard are at human heights and I have a tough time doing any work in there. Whaddaya say?"
Leera replies: "Thank you, Billy. I think that that would be an even exchange."
"I would not say that we are even. Let's just say that I'm doing you a favor... One day I may ask for one in return..." Billy leers at Leera, licking his lips salaciously and looking her up and down. He then smiles and winks, and puts his hands in his pockets as he leaves for the latrines, whistling a little sea shanty.
Lt. Sabbagh says "Sure" with a shrug of his shoulders when asked about the trade, and continues about his way.
At dinner one day: "Mate Hitalapate," Deigatt booms after slurping down the last of a bowl of warm soup. "You seem fond hof telling stories. Tell hus then how han henvoy hof Prince Handru comes to find himself scrubbing toilets hon a merchant vessel. Hand make hit good."
Italapate smiles to himself at Deigatt's request. "I have been Prince Andru's official latrine cleaner for years. This ship is on a top secret mission to retrieve the Prince from another planet in this sphere. So, I have been sent ahead to make sure that this ship's latrine is up to his standards. It is a very important job; I am responsible for the Prince's safety. You have no idea how many people try to assassinate the Prince... and a smokepowder bomb in the clay pot beneath you is a horrible, horrible way to go."
Holland talks with Lt. Sands the next day, "Sir, I have learned a bit about Navigation and I was wondering if I may have access to the star charts as well as access to your experience to answer the questions that I am bound to have."
"We can work on navigation a bit if you like, but you may not have access to the start charts. Those are restricted to the captain and officers." Lt. Sands replies.
"Hello below" is the warning as Kain drops from the rigging, his bare feet slapping lightly against the deck as he lands. "Holland, Sir," he says, nodding to each as he addresses the pair. "I heard mention of 'star charts' from where I was working on the rigging," he continues, pointing up to a spot on the rigging about twenty feet from the deck. "And though I'm no navigator, I've always had a good feel for replicating maps and navigation charts. On my...er...excuse me, on the ships I've sailed, a great deal of my time has been spent copying maps and charts. Yet I know," he says holding up his right hand palm outward, "star charts are restricted. All I ask is that if there is a need to copy the charts, that I am allowed to offer my services."
Lt. Sands smiles "So many trying to put me out of a job. And me a legless old man too." His grin grows wider "Star charts are a trade secret, my friends, House Moune must trust you far more first! But I will keep both your generous offers in mind." Then, peg leg stomping along, Lt. Sands heads down to the mess for "A wee bit o'grog to help me think."
"That sounds fair, Sir. I was the assistant Navigator as well as a Helmsman on my last berth. If I could be assistance to you in any manner don't be afraid to ask. Thank you for your time, Sir," Holland gives him a friendly smile and heads off to the galley.
With a smile Kain says, "Thank you Sir, Holland." Nodding again to each man, he says "Fair weather to you both" before finding some other task that needs doing on deck. It's easy to see that Kain feels much more comfortable away from the bustle of Bral. He no longer pushes words from his mouth in a rush, nor affects the meek posture of those first days.
Italapate passes by Leera later on his way to the kitchen. "Oh," he swoons, "I am off to the kitchen once more... My... My pet dog was just killed in a horrible pot cleaning accident... the sight of those terrible metal things still brings back horrid memories. Oh, if only some kind woman would take my place." He bats his eyes at her, his lower lip stuck out and quivering.
With a perfectly straight face, Leera replies: "Oh, poor Italapate!" She grasps him by the hand and sighs, saying: "Alas, my duties as a helmsman require much study and rest. I fear that I would be irresponsible indeed if I were to neglect the needs of the ship in order to ease your suffering. Perhaps your good friend, Lt. Sabbagh, will understand and relieve you of your horrendous burden." Leera brushes a tear from her eye and walks away.
Leera walks away, and Italapate looks surprised. Then he laughs loud and hard. Shaking his head, he turns and walks to the galley.
And so the days pass with battle station drills and a quickly established routine. After just five days the first farming asteroid, Torik's Luck appears off the port bow. The ship approaches fast, then drops to tactical speed 5000 yards or so from the base. Holland is on the helm at the time, and surprising everyone the captain leaves him there. "'Pon my soul, Lt. Sabbagh," she cries "Pipe those new hands to stations and let's see what they've learned!" The docking at Torik's Luck goes fairly well, the Captain only calling out once "'Pon my soul! Put my ship hard against this rock and you'll all wish you'd signed on as a sail hand with the neogi!"
Torik's Luck certainly lived up to its title of farming asteroid, nearly every square inch on both sides of the elliptical asteroid was covered with fields and irrigation ditches (distributing water from a large central lake). With a solid 2 mile diameter the asteroid was also dotted with lonely looking ballistae towers, and farm houses. The dock areas were small; holding four ships at the most and surrounded by warehouses and silos. Just a single inn/tavern and general store completed the small town by the docks.
The ship spent about six hours on Torik's Luck, unloading about half its original cargo and filling the cargo holds with sacks of grains and vegetables. The work was long and tiring, everyone was glad when it came time to set sail again. Leaving the asteroid behind the ship continued at tactical speed, easing through the asteroid field on its way to Finagle.
Four hours after leaving Torik's Luck the bosun's high pitched whistle begin beating the call for general quarters. The veterans are already on sail watch, and Leera is on the helm. Stumbling wearily out of bed you rush to your stations, certain this is just another of the captain's drills. Arriving on deck you here the lookout call again "Two vessels off the port bow!". Everyone who can glances that way. About 6000 yards away a slim vessel with a single tail sail is apparently pursuing a goundling caravel. The ships are to far away to make much out. The Captain is standing on the forecastle watching it all through a telescope. She suddenly takes it down "LT. SANDS!" she bellows "ORDER THE HELMSMAN TO INTERCEPT THAT EELSHIP! LT. SABBAGH, LOAD ALL WEAPONS AND ORDER THE BOARDING PARTY TO PREPARE PERSONAL MISSILE WEAPONS! STEP LIVELY, NOW! THAT CARAVEL NEEDS OUR AID AND I'LL NOT SEE HER LET DOWN!"
