You have each received, through a parent or trusted mentor, the following letter.
Greetings and Well Met,
I am Ronard of the house Rousseau, Magnate of Taldor.I find myself in need of assistance and understand that your particular talents may prove useful. I request that you meet with me so we may discuss the situation further.
I have charted passage for you on the ship Golmera's Wings, sailing from the City of Almas on the 27th of Pharast. When you arrive, identify yourself by presenting the enclosed token. The ship will bring you to Cassomir where we will meet.
You will find my residence three Blocks to the north and one block to the East of Pharasma's Pulpit in Old Cassomir. It is the second House on the North side of the street. You will know it by my crest above the door.
Please keep the nature of your journey discreet and may Desna see you safely on your way.
Ronard
Accompanying the letter was a wooden marker, about the size of a playing card, with a crest colorfully emblazoned on one side. The crest shows a Tiger, sitting on its haunches, holding a sword by the blade in its paws. This sits on a shield of purple and red. Atop the shield is a great helm with red and purple plumes.
This letter reaches you with just enough time to undertake the journey to Almas and meet the ship. The person whom the letter reached you through strongly encourages you to follow it’s instructions. You gather what belongings you have and any additional supplies you may need and begin your trip to Almas.
The port at Almas is awash with the comings and goings of hundreds of people. Everywhere you turn there are carts, crates, animals, and people heading in every direction. You see old women selling fish, young women greeting returning sailors, boys chasing a cart of fresh fruit, and piles of hides being loaded on pallets. You smell the thick salty sea air mixed with spices from a dozen other ports. While the market may have a bustling energy, here at the port everything is in motion, moving from or to the docks.
Dozens of huge ships sit at the docks and even more lay at anchor in the bay. From grand war barges to enormous cargo ships, each adorned with the flags or banners of scores of different countries, noble houses, or trading guilds. As you look into the rigging of the ships you see men, like spiders on their webs, climbing among the ropes, securing sails, and making repairs.
As you approach the dock that had been suggested to you as the most likely location for the ship “Golmera's Wings” you see a beautiful two masted brig. It is a medium sized ship, dwarfed by the larger three masted cargo ship beside it. Beneath the bowsprit you see an intricately carved figurehead of a beautiful woman with a huge set of feathered wings spreading wide over the water. Among the flags and banners you see one that matches the wooden token you carry.
You approach the gangplank and are stopped by a sailor, who questions where you are going. When you show him the wooden marker he squints at it, then looks up at you and waves you aboard. Signaling you to see the Captain on the foredeck immediately.
The captain is a large man, who’s black, scraggly, hair is streaked with silver and white. His weather beaten face is only partially hidden by a long, stringy mustache and several days of unshaven growth that couldn’t possibly be mistaken for a beard. As you walk up and introduce yourself he eyes you narrowly. Once you produce the sigil he nods knowingly ”Aye, I’m Captain Conrow. We’ll be in Cassomir in three days. Passengers cabins are below deck, opposite the hold. Listen for the meal bell because cook don’t like stragglers. And stay out of the way of my crew. Welcome aboard Golmera’s Wings.” He then turns to yell orders at a group of sailors loading some crates into the hold.
Upper Decks: The ship itself is well used but in very good condition. Most of the ship is white and grey with touches of Blue and Yellow accents. Several area of fresh paint tell of recent repairs and maintenance. While decoration seems to be kept to a minimum, there is a beauty to the clean lines of the rails and functional intricacy of the rigging. There are small flourishes such as carvings and splashes of color throughout the ship. They usually take on a feather motif or feature a pair of wings.
Lower Deck cabins: The cabins below deck are small and a bit dark but clean and well furnished. They each feature 2 comfortable beds, 2 foot lockers, 1 table with 2 chairs, and a small stand with a wash basin. On the wall there is a small oil lamp and several sturdy hooks. There is no adornment in the room outside of the colorful pattern on the blankets.
There are four total cabins but the door of one stands open and the room has been filled with crates, the beds leaned up against the wall. This leaves three rooms unoccupied.
A tall woman wearing a constricting outfit of resplendent embroidered silks stands beside the captain for a moment. Her skin is a shade of aged bronze that might almost be mistaken for ebony, and her features and the shape of her eyes look as though they have been pulled straight from a facsimile of a relief found on an Ancient Osirani temple wall. Almond shaped eyes compliment high, flat cheekbones as much for their clear azure color as for the intelligence that clearly waits behind them. her hair is arranged in a multitude of fine braids worked with copper beads that reflect the light and chime softly when she makes the slightest movement of her head as she listens to Captain Conrow's edicts.
"I would not dream of forestalling your able bodied crew, Sir," Alika demurs. Like as not I'll not have any opportunity to practice, here. I must needs conserve my magics. "Had I the glorious wings of this ship's lusty spirit, I might fly to Cassomir, but as I rely upon each of you, I will obey."
A young man, elven by his features, moves with a fluid grace up the gangplank. Tight leather britches and a loose cream shirt billows in the sea air. His honey coloured hair glints in the sunlight, strands trying to escape the long braid under the minstrations of the salty breeze.
Listening to the Captains speech with a determined silence. 'Why am I here, I owe Sam alot but....well at least it should be an interesting trip and new lands and ladies to explore.' A slow nonchalant smile crosses his face.
Walking through the fish market and onto the dock, Mangur chats with the many people from all over this part of the world. His talent for languages helps him almost fit in to any conversation going on. As he reaches the docks, he scans the many vessels and locates Golmera's Wings. He strides up the gangplank just behind an elven gentleman. A beautiful Osirani woman is listening to what appears to be the captain tell about dinner bells and where the passanger quarters are. Being friendly, he hails the lovely lady in her own tongue.
"تحية سيدتي عادلة. زهرة الفجر قد تبقي لك ولعائلتك في حضن دافئ لها
Greetings my fair lady. May the Dawnflower keep you and your family in her warm embrace.
Alika's trained features remain neutral at the young man's cordial greeting, and returns a salute that she observed customary amongst members of the church of Sarenrae.
"And yours as well. Your tongue is exceedingly skilled. Almost indistinguishable from mine own. I commend your... efforts."
"Although, it is quite rude to speak in tongues when it is not known if others might understand. They might suspect we plot against them," Alika says and chuckles softly.
"I am called Alika," she introduces herself, and smiles sweetly. "And you sir? And you... master?" she spares a glance for the elven man finally.
Bowing slightly from the waist, he says,"My name is Mangur Harmpreet, factor for a number of trade concerns in Absalom."
Absalom? Might he be Ureste's creature? Alika wonders.
"A factor?" Alika hums, smile broadening on her face. "I have known many in my former pursuits. I have always kept on the right side of my obligations, and thus have found our relations to be as cordial as our terms have dictated they be to maintain our contract," Alika enumerates and laughs softly.
Alika smooths her skirts over her her hips drawing the eye to her silhouette and the sumptuous fabric of her dress. "Textiles was my trade, of a sorts. You might say I was the most handsomely rewarded tailor's dummy in my employer's fleet."
Stood by the main mast, Matt casually observes the new comers talking. 'Interesting are these passengers. I wonder what there stories are?" A far away look crosses his visage. 'I should introduce myself but...I'll wait see whom else is boarding.'
The loud clip-clopping of hooves sounds on the docks and many eyes turn to see the source. Walking the pier is a large Ulfen man with thick combed back black hair and heavy beard around a rock crag line of a mouth. In one large hand he guides a warhorse, a majestic grey stallion, by the reins through the crowd, who make due and sound judgement to get out of his way. He nods to each person who does so, but keeps his eyes mainly fixed on the ship the letter Ottoman had given him had told him about.
A large, two-handed broadsword is strapped to the packs on the horse, as is an exceptionally bulky pack that clanks with every step of the steed bearing it. Dressed in a loose collared shirt of white and red, black britches and heavy leather boots, his skin is a dark tan and lined with multiple scars.
As he nears the gangplanks of the ship, he pauses and turns to carefully escort the horse up the walkway before turning back to eye the crew and other passengers. He waves the nearest man over, who looks to be somewhat in charge of the huge vessel and asks in a deep baritone, "Here now, where might I stable my horse?" he asks, fishing out the letter and wooden coin as proof of his going on the venture before the man can question his presence. He calmly moves the great horse out of the way of the workers on deck.
A small young man makes his way through the bustling docks, his clothes speaking of life on the road and being no stranger to hardship. A slightly haunted look lingers about his eyes as if he had seen something that most would never be subjected to in their pleasant life of family and love. A short but leaf shaped sword is strapped to his waist the other side being balanced by a bristling case of arrows plumed by elegant black feathers. A longbow is lung across one shoulder the wood carved with small leaves falling down it's length. On the other shoulder is a large gold and black colored bird. It flaps its wing's once to balance itself and all see the impressive wingspan of the odd looking bird.
Tristen winds his way through the port looking about with with a certain sense of awe. This buildings were huge and these...boats...he had seen small river craft before even boats that the trappers used to get to the other side of the lake they had camped by for several months but these...ships? I think that is what Tomas called them they came in all shapes and sizes.
He payed no attention to the attention he received with the huge bird perched on his small shoulders, the gold plumage of Adler's head raised up in warning as he stares around him warning off strangers. Finally he finds his way to the ..ship.. he was supposed to be aboard and asks if this was the correct one.
When he was answered Tristen makes his way up the gangplank uncertainly shouldering his bow to a more comfortable position on his shoulder staring about the heavy bustle on the ship.
Seeing a group of people relatively standing still he moves over to stand to one side of them looking them over warily. Adler squawking loudly in agitation and reaching down to snap at any unwary person's garments.
Observing the two newcomers with there animals, Matt shifts slightly. 'Ah, a knight and a falconer, interesting. Well should introduce myself.'
The bronzed elf pushes himself away from the mast with a languid grace. Leaving a small honey-leather backpack at the base of the mast. Moving towards the factor and dusky maiden, but ensuring that the two other men are within sight. 'Careful, the most obvious threats are not neccessarily the ones you should worry about.
"Greetings fellow travellers, I am called Matt by my friends and friends i hope we may be. May i have the pleasure of your names?" He says with a flourish and a deep bow, fluid and slow enough not to spook the animals. A playful glint reflects in his eyes.
After delivering his welcome to the last of you, the Captain stomps off, calling after a group of sailors hoisting crates of birds into the hold. A minute later another sailor approaches and takes the reins of Gawain horse. "Here now, I'll see 'em safely in the hold sir." As he leads the steed away toward the hoist. The ships crew continues to work around you but generally ignores you.
Matt leans to one side motioning to the captain. "Excuse me Captain Conrow, but the three cabins below, they are ours?" he asks a pleasant melodious lilt to his voice.
"Or is that your abode?"
The Capitan's head whips around at your call, "Eh, Oh Aye. As I said, your cabins are the ones below deck by the hold." He the ducks deftly as the end of a long plank swings by his head. He turns to the deckhand carrying the boards, giving a full measure of his opinion of the situation. He continues to follow as the boards are carried away.
"Three cabins? For four passengers?" Alika muses, the quality of her voice is distinctly melodious, as though she has always a particular air in mind when she devotes breath to words.
"Do not each of you volunteer to share a room at once!" she jests, sparing a glance for the gentlemen and his... avian companion. "My toilet is practically non existent, and I have no desire for privacy in the least," she continues and laughs.
Alika's eyes briefly regard the factor. "Although, if our conversation is to include more particulars of contracts and numbers, Master Harmpreet, I could not have asked for a better partner."
For he most part, Gawain keeps mostly silent during the tour of their facilities and beds, and he keeps a respectful silence while the woman is allowed the pick of the three rooms. After she has made her choice, he simply nods and looks to the other two rooms for a moment, then back at his new companions with a speculative eye.
He nodded at the elven man, then gestured to one of the rooms. "You can bunk with me I suppose, if the lady will take her room with Sir Harmpreet. I'll take the floor if there's only one bed." he glances aside at the younger man with the large bird in tow and he jerks his sleeve out of the way of its probing beak before it can take a bite out of the cloth. "Meaning no offense Master Falconer, I assume simply that you will wish the other room for you and your bird."
After he comments he bows his head to the lady and the other young man,then glancing back at the Captain who continues to follow.
Mangur smiles, and bows again slightly to the young woman. He turns to the large northman and says, "I am not a sir. Thank you for the well meaning title, but please just call me Mangur." He offers his hand to the other two men.
"I shall be taking my pack to the room, shall I take yours as well madam?"
"I believe they loaded my trunk earlier, I have very little to carry," Alika defers with a smile. "If we are meant to be roommates, we may as well take the opportunity to become acquainted."
Alika chooses the cabin closest to the entrance, commanding a view from the hall, and places her exceedingly light pack upon it.
"You have no reason to fear amorous advances with me, Magnur. Seduction is a game I initiate only upon a level playing field. This ship," she pauses as their shared microcosm roils beneath their feet, "is hardly the appropriate venue."
Tristen blinks at the whirl of events and then looks up...and up at the large man addressing him. "Uh sure I don't care." he reaches up and strokes the Adler's crown and seems to move off staring out onto the water.
"Want to go out then hey?" he murmurs softly to the bird before seeing some reaction from the gold avian and it takes off in a violent burst of motion quickly taking off about the port gaining altitude until becoming a small speck in the air.
"There we go, sorry neither of us are used to all these people." he says cheerfully rejoining everyone though as he had stepped away the odd colored woman and one of the trio of men had moved off.
Mangur smiles and nod his head.
That is very good to know. Do not misunderstand me. You are a very beautiful woman, it is just, well, I am not all that interested in , umm, well you know!! It will be nice to just talk and get to know you.
Alika laughs and pulls the braided wig from her head and runs her painted fingertips and nails through a crop of silky jet hair cropped close to her head and sighs in pleasure.
"You are kind, but it is not my form which I prefer men find impressive. Considering the circumstances of our acquaintance, we should each of us practice a slight bit of caution, yes?"
Alika hums, and when she speaks again, the rhythm, cadence and even tone of her voice is completely changed.
"Your talents with tongues, might it compare to mine own?"
Mangur frowns and says;
I do not know that one, but I am sure you understand this language.What about this one?
This is the language of my own people.
"So, it looks like it's you and me; Sir Knight. Any idea what they are talking about? It must be good to be so well travelled, although this is not your homeland?" Matt says to Gawain with an easy lilt in his voice as he picks up his pack from the base of the mast. Moving lithely towards the stair down to the deck.
Gawain gives a deep gruff chuckle and follows after the elf with his personal belongings slung over his shoulder. He had taken the time to remove the heavy clanking bag and sword from his mount before Brecker was taken below into the hold. He had to make a point of going to see him once they were underway. He remembered the warhorse being distinctly uneasy their first time out on the sea.
"If this was Linnorm, there'd be beer enough to drown in for the morning and a decent ruck in the afternoon. It boggles the mind really to imagine someone speaking so many tongues." He scratches his head a little then puts his things down inside of his and the elf's bunk.
"I am Gawain Macellan, sorry to not have mentioned that earlier."[/b] he gives Matt a bow of his head and then waits for the elf to put down his things as well before turning and exiting the cabin. "And where may I ask are you from Master Elf?"
Matt smiles as he puts his things safely inside the foot locker, carefully removing a violin and inspecting it. "Gawain, nice to meet you." he says rolling the name as if testing it. "Yes, it seems this voyage may be as intriguing as the destination. Though hopefully there aren't that many rucks."
Matt picks up the violin and starts examining it as he leaves the cabin, checking for wear in the salt air. "Me, I am from Molthune; it's not a very exciting place. Linnorm sounds like a fun area, the icy wastes, the ale, the women and the music. You must have a great time there, why have you come south? The heat?"
Matt moves back towards the others with Gawain at his side. Intrigued to find out this large nobles tale.
Alika licks her lips and smiles, brushing some flecks of lint from her left breast.
"This is the last we will speak of this tongue, no? And the goddess of the Dawn."
Alika looks up from her study, azure eyes blazing despite the dank and confined quarters, slicks her short hair back and then replaces the wig on her head.
"I am glad that there still exists between us the... opportunity to keep secrets."
"Again, as it concerns our fellow passengers, and the crew it is far more... polite to initiate and maintain conversation in Taldane. Not to mention appropriate," Alika's smile appears almost predatory for a moment.
"In all things, I am naught but discreet, if it please you. I do not believe that we should be sequestered here together save for our idle evening hours, however... is there any concern pertaining to toilet or personal habit that you wish to discuss?"
"I like you!" Mangur says, smiling at Alika. "It is a very welcome change to be able to speak frankly to someone. As to my regular routine, do not fear. I am a very experienced traveler, so I am sure we will have no troubles."
Basking in the sea breeze, Matt looks around as the ship seems ready to cast-off. 'Oh, well sharing a berth isn't too bad, I should be used to it after all this time. The man seems a good sort.' Matt turns to his companion with knowing smile, the openness of his stance inviting others to join.
Overhead the crew, scurry through the rigging ensuring the ships passage. Feeling the gentle rocking of the boat, Matt is comfortable. Another voyage, another chance to escape, move on.
As you feel the ship cast off and begin moving out of the harbor, the tone of the activity on board shifts. Each crew member begins to fall into his routine, moving through the course of his duties with the detachment of experience. Even Captain Conrow calms noticeably, yelling only half as much at each passing deck hand.
Golmera's Wings moves out of the harbor and into the open water of the Inner Sea. Turning east, it begins to follow the shoreline passing many other boats heading into port at Almas.
"Then you will have no objection to leaving the cabin door open, I assume?" Alika says, nodding towards it. "A large male crew, and mostly male passengers, it is not difficult to discern what manner of rumors will circulate shortly should we sequester ourselves too often."
Alika licks her lips, and then carefully rises as the ship gives another lurch beneath them, appearing unsettled for a time. "I have very few fond memories of sea voyages," she says softly. "Shall we proceed to the deck?"she suggests after a beat.
Matt walks over to the man with his bird of prey, slightly cautious not to startle the bird. "Good to meet you, Gawain here was just telling me about Linnholm. It sounds a magnificent place. Not as nice as that bird you have there."
'This fellow seems to be an enigma, the falcon is a nobles animal. But by his clothes he isn't a noble, his hands have slight callouses and you can tell by the slight cuts on his arm the bird, it is often there.'
With a cheery smile. "Don't you just love the sea, so refreshing and liberating."
Tristen looks at the elf for a time before replying as he turns his head to regard the sea.
"This be my first time on it, or seeing it for the matter. Don't rightly know what to think of it."
He then regards the elf again stroking Adler's neck feathers to calm the ill tempered bird.
"Just wait 'til the swells get up then you really feel alive." Matt looks out to sea, watching the slow undulation. 'Put them at ease, this bon-vivant act is entirely too natural Matt.'
"So a land-man, well obviously with your kite (?). What's her name? She's a feisty one." Matt says de-tuning his violin unconciously.
"Indeed madam. Let us go up before any begin to think poorly of us. I would not wish to be unseemly, and I would love to chat with the other passangers."
With that he leaps up from his bunk and heads up to the deck to visit with the others.
Gawain stands silently on the deck facing the water and gives a deep sigh at the smell of it all, closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth he had grown accustomed to in the pleasant southlands. His father had always said it made them soft and weaker than the hardy men of Linnorm, but he had seen grit in his short time as a caravan guard among the people of this continent to know that his father was merely making a comparison between, not the strengths, but the different lifestyles. Linnorm men drank, ate, fought and whored on a regular basis much more frequently than a lot of Taldans, Andorans or anyone else, and it added to their size and robust constitutions, as did the ferocious enemies they fought on a near daily schedule.
He is jerked out of his thoughts as he feels the bird take a bite at his shirt and he jerks the cloth away with a small irratated growl, glaring right back at the vulture coldly. "Stop doing that!" he snapped, and then gestured at the bird's master. "Would you please have your bird stop trying to eat my shirt?!"
He takes a step away, grumbling and then flashes the bird a look as he feels it inching its sharp beak at his sleeve when he is not looking. As he expected the vulture had its neck extended and he raises his eyebrows with a threatening glare, and the bird shrunk back with a small caw of defiance.
The warrior gives a sigh of exasperation then heads below decks to check on his horse. He makes way for Mangur and the woman Alika as they walk past him and up onto the deck while he continues below.
Alika follows Mangur after a beat, spending a few moments ensuring that her wig is placed firmly atop her head. As the large Ulfen man passes her she gives a soft smile. "I would not dally too long," she warns brightly. "A conversation with the deck crew is likely to be the greatest entertainment we will find on this voyage, as disinclined as we are to speak to each other," she jests and laughs.
Alika continues up onto the deck, and carefully picks her way through the busy deck crew to the forward most point on the bow that can be accessed by passengers and looks out towards the sea. A wave of nausea rolls through her as the memories of her former and failed sea voyage take hold. Even now she recalls the stench of burning flesh, and her breath catches in her throat.
Had I wings like this ship's spirit, I would have flown long ago, home with the ash of my sisters, to a damned village stained with blood. Swallowed by the inconstant sands, likely.
Alika's hands tense on the rails as the sea rises beneath the prow and the wind causes the braids of her wig to click together. In these moments, the pain in her breast is unbearable, but no sound passes her lips, it never had with him, Ureste, and it never would.
Matt walks over to the dusky lady; "Are you all right? Not seasick?" he asks, placing his hand on the rail. "I find it's always a good idea to meet your fellow travellers. You can learn alot about the world that way." 'And keep your self safe.'
"The captain seems a fine fellow, doesn't he? A bit rough round the edges, but that must show his experience." he enquires politely.
"Seasick?" Alika inquires. "Not in the least." As though simple stomach upset can compare to alchemical plague.
Alika turns and places her back against the rail, and for a moment, evaluates the newcomer for a time before speaking again. "I recalled a much different horizon, where the sea and the spray upon it were sand. In truth, I prefer overland travel to water born craft. If I fall from an unruly horse, or the back of a cart, I may break a bone and require some healing. If I fall from a ship, my bones will break and then I can look forward to naught else but drowning."
Alika pauses and smiles softly. "There is something inherently romantic about the result, however," she continues, voice melodious, "I believe it has something to do with the thought that beneath the tumult of the waves, all is still, and silent."
Momentarily taken aback; 'That's dark and mysterious, I like it.' "Very deep, madame, I think the ocean is like a good lover. Once you have ridden her, then you're drawn back." Matt gives a sly wink, not a come-on just friendly banter on the ocean.
"It's amazing how something so powerful, so elemental, can be so serene. Unlike the desert; where you can feel the strength - of the winds & the heat." he muses quietly looking at the horizon whilst unstringing his fiddle.
Alika laughs heartily, easing against the rails. "Ah, would that I had known I traveled with such an accomplished romantic!" she sings. "You simply must give me your name, Master elf, so that when your poetry spills forth from mine lips and parts my lover's with quickened passion, I can lend credit where it is due."
A rich laughter fills the air, Matt joining in. "My dear lady, you are trying to get a rise out of me. My words are incomparable to your own. And anybody lucky enough to be caught in your passion will hardly be able to listen to your words, I expect."
'A sharp one this, I am sure she sees through my guise. Still...'
Alika's eyes flash, and she gestures to the elf's instrument with a nod. "I take it you do not value that instrument," she hazards. "I do not know a single performer that would expose their life blood to the quality of this air. The humidity alone!" she says sharply. "This amount of moisture, seeping into the porous wood. If you can find a tune upon it, it is not likely to keep."
"Oh him, well, that's why I am trying a bit of maintenance on him now. This voyage will warp the neck, if I keep it strung and don't oiled it." a crafty smile spreads across his face. "But, I am taking everything with me, so... it has to be exposed to the salty air."
"But I haven't had a decent instrument since a bar in Qadira..." Matt pauses contemplatively.
'That assassin nearly got me that time. That was too close.' He reaches down and rubs his fore-arm, gently.
"Have you been there? Best sherbet you can find, capital city, in a little bar in an alley off the beggars market." his voice sounding slighty strained.
"Never had the displeasure," Alika's azure eyes flash hot anger and she looks to the sea. "My port of origin was Katapesh.
"It should be understood that in light of our destination, further reference to the Satrapy should not be made. Particularly in ear shot of the crew."
Gawain goes into the hold and checks on Brecker. Despite the cramped conditions the warhorse is managing well and only bumps his arm with slight reproach being treated like a mule for his place in the ship. He chuckles and rubs the horse's nose and pats his side, gives him some treats for the indignity of having to stand down here while they sailed, and then he begins walking back up onto the deck. He arrives just in time to see his roommate Matt in a discussion with the fair Alika and he chuckles at their words as he moves the bow, glancing about for Mangur and the young lad with the bird, Tristan, who seems to have gone off somewhere.
He glances back at Alika as she rasps something in yet another foreign tongue and then he grins to himself, remembering the one other language he learned to speak in Linnorm. Living alongside fierce trolls and giants had taught Gawain a little of their language, because not every confrontation with the giant-folk had to end in bloodshed. Granted, they most often did anyways but Gawain liked having tried to diplomacize with them before he and his brothers put steel to them.
He closes his eyes again and breathes in the smells of the docks and the sea, and then glances over at Matt tuning his violin and he raises his eyebrows immediatly interested. "Here, Sir Matt, you would not know how to play the Giant's Waltz on that there instrument would you?" he asks the elf with a wide smile beneath his beard.
"Is it not enough to simply be one," Alika answers the large warrior, her tone light in jest. "Must you also emulate their reputedly awkward movements upon the roiling seas?" she hums in amusement. "Are not the cries of the gulls song enough in your savage lands?"
Gawain chuckled loudly and clapped a hand to his gut at Alika's words and he gave the woman a wink. "You don't know Linnorm if I may say so Lady Alika, if you think our only song is that of the wilderness. Many a marching tune and bar song hails from my homeland. I myself am no such singer unfortuneatly" He then gives the woman a bow of his head and chuckles again.
"And along the lines of being a Giant, I am but a man. I have seen giants, and they would make me seem as a child to their bulk" he grins and then turns back to Matt expectantly to see if he knew the popular tune.