Jammers Summary: Chapter 3, Turn 11

----------- = Meanwhile, elsewhere...
*********** = Later...

On the first day out of port, Italapate finds Seguld in his quarters alone, working on something which he quickly covers when 'Pate enters.

Italapate kneels down, and his face takes on an uncharacteristic seriousness. "Seguld, I didn't want to say anything in front of anyone.... truth to tell, it took a few moments to process what you said, and by then the moment had passed. Don't you think it is a little late to continue to blame me for something that wasn't my fault? Do you really think I don't feel horrible that my great purpose in Jamila's vision was to see her to her death? I spent my entire shore leave visiting the shaman's of any pantheon I could find, trying to find some purpose in my existence, some answers to those questions. I'm sorry if I offended you in front of Vais and everyone, but your retort went beyond the call of retaliation. Call me the 'crazy shaman of a rabid dog' like Ferric, if you like, but I won't have you call me 'murderer'."

Seguld puts on an equally uncharacteristic serious face, although it almost appears mockingly comical. "Nev'rCalledYouAMurder'r. SaidYaPitchedAnAlly Overboard, 'NYouDid. 'An'T'Would'veBeenMeToo, If'nSheDidn'tTieMeFirst." Seguld shakes his head in sorrow. "Sorry, IfYou'reHavin'TroubleDealin'WithIt. It'sNotEasyFerMeNeither."

He suddenly gets upset. "Gal'DangIt!" He slams his fist down on his bed. "WeNeedTaWorkTogetherBetter, NotFightsMore. GuessI'mStillHurtin' AndIDid'tLike YerCommentNoneNeither." He looks pleadingly to 'Pate. "TooManyOfUsIsScareda Workin'Together. NeedTaBeBiggerThanThat." Seguld then offers his hand, "MyWord NoMoreBlameFerJamilla, FerNeitherOfUs."

"Combat is chaos at it's most chaotic. You can either fight it... or use it," Italapate muses. "The trickster is as capable of being the creator as he is the destroyer. And, it was perhaps more likely that someone was going to get killed, even if we had had an orderly boarding action as the chaos that occurred when I lost control of the ship." He shakes his head, a small smile crossing his face. He reaches out and shakes Seguld's hand. "I never blamed anyone else. My word as well."

Seguld smiles as if nothing ever happened. "Hey! WannaSeeWhatIGot!"

"Of Course," Pate smiles. "Always."

Seguld flips the blanket back exposing two nicely crafted belt pistols. "IFigures Wit'TheBumLeg, IGotMoreTimeTaShootBeforeIC'nUseMyMace. JustGotta Git'sComf'tableWit'Em." Next to Seguld's small outstretched hands the guns look huge, but clearly from the way his fingers are tapping the guns he is quite excited.

Pate reaches for one, stroking it carefully, though not lifting it. "I would love to learn to shoot one of these things. What could be more perfect?"

Seguld politely, but definitively pulls the gun towards himself and out of Italapate's reach. "ThenPerhapsWhenWeReturnT'Bral Y'CanPurchaseOne, I'llBeGlad ToShowYaHowTaUseIt." Pulling a rag from his pocket he re-shines the gun where 'Pate touched it. "ThinkI'llSetARack'Ere'BoveMyBed." Seguld grabs his ledger and turns to a page in the back. He begins making a basic sketch to show a rack for a rifle and a pistol on each end.

Pate shrugs. "Didn't say I wanted one, just thought I might like to shoot it." He stands, "Well, gotta run." and he leaves Seguld to his sketches.

********************

Each day Holland stops by to chat with Vais and to cast a quad of minor electrical spells upon him. Each day Holland asks a few questions to get conversation started.

He finds Vais a dry, somewhat acerbic companion, but one who often seems to see to the heart of the matter at hand. Vais speaks much of his previous journeys, he doesn't seem to want to hide anything, and its clear he has the soul of a wanderer.

Vais describes the spheres he has visited, and the cultures he has seen, but is not trained as a navigator, so he is unable to give any specifics.

Holland queries, "What were the circumstances behind your deactivation? It seems odd that you, and the crew you were with, would allow you to run out of energy."

Vais looks at the deck, for a moment. The frown can be heard in his voice. "My vessel crashed near Tarvin, a freak thunderstorm came up. At least, I assume they crashed. I only remember falling into the ocean and then walking for what seemed like days. I must have run out of energy along the way, because this is my next memory."

Vais looks back up, "Let us return to a more cheerful subject, the Illithids of Glyth..."

********************

Ferric walks over to Galan one afternoon and invites him to spar.

Galan listens to the other man's offer, his eyes dark and his face unreadable. Frowning, he opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, changing his mind. Smirking, he nods. "That's probably not a bad idea. I could use the exercise." Glancing about the deck, he asks, "What did you have in mind?"

Ferric replies, "Just a little sparring. I like to know what my comrades will do in a fight. I'd hate to lose my head because I didn't know someone likes to swing wide with their axe or lose my feet because they dodge to the side when a blow comes at them."

Ferric and Galan both take out their weapons and set to a friendly bout of sparring. Though he is quick and nimble, Ferric misjudges the distance a few times as he attempts to bait Galan into attacking and receives a few light blows for his mistakes. Several more times Galan comes in certain his attack will land only to have the tall dark-skinned warrior move with extreme agility tucking into a roll or flip that takes him beyond striking distance. Galan in turn finds himself at rapier's point a couple of time as Ferric slips past his defenses and almost loses a weapon as Ferric just misses disarming him. After thirty minutes or so of sparring with quick breaks every now and then Ferric smiles and says, "Your not too bad. I'd be proud to board a pirate vessel with you by my side."

Galan smiles grimly as he wipes the sweat out of his eyes. Sliding his longsword back into its sheath, he nods. "You're pretty good yourself. I appreciate your time, friend Ferric." Stretching his back, he adds, "I hope I've dispelled any concern of my chopping off a foot. Yours or mine."

********************

On the second day out of port, Italapate approaches Robert Twofeather. "_Hoya_," he greets. "I wasn't at any of the interviews, ya know. Where was it you were from again?"

"Ho," Robert replies from where he is tying another knot. "I'm from the Rainbow Ocean, just outside of the Crystal Realms." Giving a satisfied tug on the rope, he continues, "but most recently I'm from the Sword Coast on Toril. Yourself?"

"Native Bralian, myself," Pate grins. "You betcha." He thinks for a moment, then his expression changes, as his eyebrows arc up in surprise. "Waitasec..... You're from the Phlogiston?"

"Yep." grins Robert, "You picked that one up pretty quick. Not many do." Picking up the rope again, and untying it, he continues, "I was found by the BROKEN SWORD just floating around, at the mercy of the winds."

Italapate rubs his chin. "That's.... interesting. Do you remember anything before being found? I heard the P'giston can put you in preserved sleep. Is that your story? Or were you born out there?"

Absently retying the rope, Robert replies, "Nope. I was told that I might have been hit on me head, and knocked overboard. Can't be sure, bein' as I don't 'member." Pushing back a stray stand of his hair, Robert continues "Might have been born there, can't say." Giving Italapate a grin, "Doesn't matter that much anyway. Any folks that I might have 'ad, could be ages gone to dust and blown away by the wind. I'm here now, that's what's 'portant."

"Say, you 'aven't met Rhubarb yet have ya?" Pointing up to the top of the sail, Robert continues, but lowers his voice, "He doesn't want to come down. I think he's scared of the big guy."

Pate grins broadly, "Interesting philosophy. Oh, and Rhubarb and I have had a long talk, already. Pretty cool bird. Says he wishes he was in the forest, but finds this adventure to be promising. I tried to convince him Deigatt is a big softy, but I believe you are right, he's nervous around the big guy." Pate claps Twofeather on the shoulder, "Well, good meeting you," then he takes his leave, wandering back belowdecks.

"Likewise." replies Robert. Once 'Pate has gone below, Rob continues to make adjustments to the knots he's tying. When Rhubarb flutter's down to where he's working, Rob gives him a dirty look, "Your not telling secrets 'bout us are ya?" then gives a smile and wanders forward to the bow to sit and watch the stars.

********************

Italapate spends much of the trip hovering around Ferric. He watches the man carefully, commenting or adding to his conversations in small ways.

On the third day of the trip Ferric rounds on Italapate as the others descend to get dinner. In a neutral voice, "Is there something you want or do you just enjoy my company so much that you always seem to be lurking nearby lately?"

Italapate shrugs. "Aren't we all supposed to get along? There is nothing I want... but I thought there might be something you want. It is, after all, my gift to observe behavior, and yours has changed toward me drastically. With all the talk of efficiency lately... oh, who am I kidding, I could give a rat's butt about efficiency... I do, on the other hand care when someone so obviously dislikes me. I'm a cool guy, mostly likeable. What's the deal?"

"'The deal' is that I don't trust you." Ferric says evenly. "You proved to be unreliable in our last combat and it resulted in two of our own being pitched overboard. Next time you want to claim something was an accident don't announce that you are going to do something crazy beforehand." Bringing his face within several inches of Italapate's the grey skinned warrior says, "I don't care what the reason was, _my life_ is too important to be ended because you do something rash. There are things I need to do and I need to be alive to do them." Ferric turns and walks towards the mess to get some dinner.

Italapate grabs Ferric by the shoulder before he can leave. He lacks the strength to hold him, but he halts him slightly to finish his piece. "It _was_ an accident, Ferric, I only claimed to be doing something crazy so everyone would grab hold and not do something _really_ crazy.... like rush the pirate vessel when we were so badly hurt and outnumbered. You're insistence on boarding made me change my plans, I couldn't do what I wanted so I lost control... simple as that. And that might not have happened, either, if you hadn't become a drooling and raving maniac when you boarded the ship...that was a lot of help, sailmaster. You don't trust me? Fine, whatever. But, I have given my blood oath to protect the members of this Company, and that is the most important oath amongst my people, the one even the Trickster never breaks. There were too many things that went wrong in that battle, from ill-advised surveillance, to poorly planned attacks, to lounging on our butts making sure we had the cargo we ordered before heading into battle... Hey! Maybe we were planning to sell all that stuff to the pirates when we were finished! You want to blame someone for Jamila? That's all right, I'll take it.... but you know damn well, there is plenty of blame to go around." There is a fire in the young man's eyes, but he says nothing, allowing Ferric to leave.

Italapate turns, his fists clenched white-knuckled at his side, he shakes noticeably. "Damn... and I wanted to clear everything up... make peace," he mutters just loud enough for anyone near to hear.

********************

On day four, Billy sits in the galley with a chess set laid out in front of him. He is clearly deep in thought. He scratches his chin, then reaches out and moves his white bishop. After a few seconds, a black knight moves by itself and the white king topples over slowly. "Shoot!" exclaims Billy. "I'm never gonna beat this thing." With practiced hands, he quickly replaces all the pieces and starts a new game, moving a white pawn.

Leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the table and his sketchbook in his lap, Kain watches Billy's 'match.' Swinging his feet down onto the floor, Kain walks over to sit by Billy's side. "Is that the magic of the chessboard Billy, or have you mastered a new mental ability?" Kain asks as Billy sets up the new game.

Billy chuckles, "If it was a new mental ability, let me assure you that I would win a little more often. No, it's the magic of the game... It's pretty smart too... I haven't beat it yet. What to try your luck?"

"Sure, why not," Kain agrees. After only half a dozen moves or so, though, Kain steps away from the board with a bemused look on his face. "I know where this's leading, and I'd rather not be embarrassed by a... a... magical device," he grins.

A little later, Kain asks Billy, "Would you mind.. ah.. helping me out some with the crossbow again Billy? I seem to be having trouble with keeping the locking mechanism taut. Not that I've really been given the chance to practice that much though," Kain admits sheepishly.

Looking at the chess board with disgust, Billy sighs. "Sure thing, Kain. I'm getting a little tired of losing all the time... Crossbows can be pretty tricky," says Billy putting on his lecturer's voice. They grab their weapons and head up on deck.

An hour or so later, Billy encourages, "That's great Kain. Now you're gettin' it! Say, how good are you with a dagger?"

"Well, I won't slit my own throat in a hand to hand fight and I'm a fairly good eye at throwing a dagger," Kain shrugs. "Want a few pointers?" he asks Billy.

"I've never thought fighting with steak knives was a good idea, but human knives are quite larger..." Billy pauses. "Alright, why not... Show me what those things can do."

Kain and Billy then start working with the dagger....

*******************

On the fifth day, the alarm bell rings for one of many drills the company has put itself through. Pate rouses himself from sleep. He walks out onto the deck, seeing everyone in their positions at battle stations. He finds a comfortable spot on the deck and plops down. He draws his tomahawk, and mimics repelling boarders. "Parry, parry, oh, parry, parry," he grins.

"You know these drills har himportant hif we har to survive has a team, Comrade. Please take them more seriously," Deigatt tells Italapate (again).

Italapate sighs up at Deigatt. "Look, I was told I was only support crew, and probably rightly so. That doesn't give me a lot TO practice. I mean, unless we board, or are boarded, all I have to do is watch. Might as well have fresh legs in case the inevitable happens."

From his battle position Holland belts out, "ITALAPATE!! Get off your ARSE! This ISN'T a GAME!!!"

"Aye-Aye, Captain Holland, SIR!" Pate says as he bolts upright and salutes. "Begging the Captain's pardon, sir, but, unless that chunk of rock out there is an enemy ship... this IS a game, sir!"

Holland eyebrows converge between his eyes angrily, then he sighs without comment. He calls a halt to the proceedings, calling for everyone's attention. "I want to make sure that everyone understands, that these drills are no laughing matter, and combat isn't something we should go into half-arsed. This is too important, too deadly a profession to not take seriously. We already lost two people, nearly a third, due to unnecessary shenanigans. Losing any more to recklessness will be intolerable. So, the next time we have a drill, I would appreciate it if everyone would show up as if there were truly a battle, and your life, and the lives of others, depended upon it."

Italapate frowns deeply. "It is so easy to keep blaming me isn't it?"

Holland turns to stare at him, "I never said I blamed you. I told you already, if anything, _I_..."

"Oh sure, you used pleasantly generic words, and skirted the issue neatly, but that is what you meant," Italapate shakes his head, interrupting. "Would it really have been so much better if you had been able to board that ship? Holland? Ferric?" He steps forward, closing the gap between himself and Holland. "You were there with me, at House Moune. I _drew blood_ and swore that I would do everything in my power to see that no harm came to the company. But the two of you were so eager to board that ship, that I couldn't pull away like I wanted to. I was a part of Jamila's Dream Quest, and my part caused her death, in spite of the fact I was trying to save her. To save you, who was already nearly dead, Leera who was seriously injured, Raken who had too few spells to go around."

"Yes, it would have been better. We at the least could have aided our wounded. All of us on deck felt boarding was right, That's we told you not to try any stunts." Holland takes on a stern expression. "If you truly want to keep your oath, you should be more attentive during drills. You cause more problems than you solve when you go off half-cocked, while the rest of us are following plans we all agreed upon."

"Battle is anarchy personified, and will defy all your attempts to bring order to it," Pate says. He shrugs his shoulders, "So I stand here, and pretend to battle imaginary boarders... I can do that, I have a great imagination. But I don't see how that helps, when the bad guy does something unexpected. They always do something unexpected. Was I the only one that noticed that we got our 'arses' handed to us last time, because we 'prepared' _Too Much_? Embrace the chaos, use the anarchy. Order fled the battlefield, and only Pandemonium remains to be our ally."

Holland shakes his head in disgust at Pate's words. "That.... That is absurd," he says struggling to contain his anger. "You asked us not to blame you for making a mistaking, for assuring us you were fresh and continue to helm when you were becoming exhausted. We do, because it was an _honest_ mistake. But don't through your anger back at us of your failure. We failed because we were not stealthy enough, because we underestimated our opponents. Not because we were prepared to much."

Holland sighs and waves his hand dismissively, "Practice is over for today. Please, be certain to arrive focused on the task with the next drill." Holland's cheeks redden slightly, then... "Uhmmm, well, then.... uh, Carry on." Then the mage retreats belowdecks.

Pate watches him go, then looks back up at Deigatt. Finally he shrugs again and walks toward the back of the ship.

After a moment, Deigatt follows Italapate aft, catching up to him quickly. "Comrade," he says, "I will hunderstand hif you don't want to talk right now, but hif you do, I would like to hear more habout your Trickster, habout where he's from hand what he stands for."

Pate looks up at Deigatt, smiles, then pats him on the arm. "No, you don't. I know you better than that, you all hate my stories, and you, in particular, dislike anything of the priestly persuasion. But it was nice of you to lend an ear."

"While we were hon Bral, I learned that I was hallowing my hanger toward the priests hof my home world haffect my judgment hof others, hand I have had reason to change my hopinion," the minotaur replies. "Emotions can be hinsidious. . . Truly, I would like to know more habout your relationship with your deity, Hitalapate."

Talking quietly among themselves, Deigatt and 'Pate stare off the stern at the stars...

Finishing, 'Pate looks back at Deigatt. "I have talked to many priests and shaman's while we were waiting for our ship to be finished, tried to understand the Trickster's role in other beliefs. I want to be a Creator, I want to use my gifts for good... yet I seem to be destined to be the Destroyer instead. It is not the role I would have chosen for myself. You might not understand, you are very eager to practice and drill, to go over every detail before a battle.... but, I can't see it that way. We spent so much time in the last battle, scouting, making plans, scouting some more, making more plans.... It was inevitable that they would be ready for us. We have to learn to be spontaneous, to grab the anarchy with both hands and go along for the ride! We know each other, what we can do... but we spend so much of our energy forcing each other into roles so we can say, 'look how organized we are!'" He shakes his head. "I probably can't make myself understood, but," he grins, "I have become quite used to that." He shrugs. Looking back at the stars, he finishes, "I make even less sense to you now, don't I?"

Nilaroo, standing nearby retrieving his bow from its trappings, moves closer. "Hoom, I would not be distressed, Italapate, that you see yourself as Destroyer instead of Creator. One is needed for the other - indeed, any separation of the two concepts, or any two concepts, is artificial and peculiar."

****************

The rest of the trip continues in an uncomfortable mood, and no more drills are called. The rendezvous point is reached, and almost on time the ship shifts down to tactical speed.

The crew on deck instantly start searching for the elven vessel, and they find the Man-o-war dead ahead at about 4,000 yards. Just to starboard of it is another vessel, a ship which resembles a giant, flying scorpion with its tail arched up over its back.

Nilaroo grunts, "Hoom, scorpionships were often crewed by orcs...."

Judging from the way the two vessels are moving, they are engaged in combat....

Date/time: 11:00 am 7th day of the 6th Month, 5049 OC