"Aye, that I do. I learnt it at a little county fair, just outside of Korholm. From the champion wrestler there; a hairier man you haven't seen. Well, maybe you have Gawain." he states with a smile.
'Glad father never found out about that trip, I would have been a beating for sure.'
"Never seen a giant though, I suppose most of my travels take me southerly. I'll play it for you later, I think Lady Alika objects, and my poor violin is stripped at the moment." Matt thinks for a second. "The chest beating percussion, is also something I should prepare for."
Mangur walks out onto the deck and takes a deep breath of the salty air. His gait, now rolling with the movement of the ship on the waves, takes him to the group. He stands back, not wishing to intrude into the middle of a conversation. When a break in the talk occures, he moves up to the others, a smile on his lips and the cool breeze ruffling his hair.
"Ah, what a beautiful day to be out on the sea."
"I have a particular penchant for maintaining decorum when the master of the craft issues express orders not to disturb his crew. Had I the slightest idea how to pilot this skiff, or what amount of concentration each man requires to keep us afloat and on course, I might consider my amusement first," Alika replies, returning her attention to her partners.
"I apologize if you found my assessment of your homeland untoward, Sir. In my experience, as a merchant, my wares penetrate your markets only through the raiders that attack our caravans. Although, I would like to thank them for the service. Such... incidentals allow us to raise the price in that particular leg of our operation exponentially, to cover the additional costs of security," she says and smiles slyly.
Alika licks her lips and dips her head in acknowledgement of Mangur's words. "It is fair," she agrees.
"I apologise if I implied otherwise ma'am, I just thought that your concerns were about my skill, or lack of it. Not the noble concern for our bearers. Anyway night is the best time for music...." he says wistfully as if remembering a lost 'conversation' under the stars.
As Magnus approaches; "Aye that it is. You said you were a factor. Is that for private concerns or a conglomerate. This is a business trip I take it?" Matt inquires, curious of the man and what cargo maybe aboard the ship.
"I work for private concerns. With my talent for languages, it helps the merchants to smooth their transactions. I also have a small ability for knowing the worth of things, but it is a skill I am still learning."
Tristen studies everyone from his perch up on a mast and leans back before blowing out a sgh and begins to climb down
"So you all seem to know what your here for then? I am still trying to understand why my teacher and therefore me being sent in his place would be called upon when it seems that all of your skills would be called upon more than mine." Tristen says boldly tired of being silent and meets everyone's eyes for a second before turning slightly to let Adler land on his shoulder with a screech of defiance as the large bird spots the others.
"Sorry about Adler he is rather ill tempered, hope he doesn't bother you all too much." he says with a small grin.
"On the contrary, Adler's 'keep, we were each of us doing our best to omit the object of our voyage, until the curiosity of one dispelled the illusion," Alika says pointedly, the tone of her voice clipped.
Tristen looks at the exotic colored woman for a time before replying "Sometimes its best to get the guts out on the table before you bargain for the pelt." He grins even wider "You will just have to excuse my youthful curiosity cutting through your web of words, else I am afraid that we would be there and back before we ever knew what to expect. Know your friends as thee should know your enemies I believe is the Taldan saying."
Gawain keeps quiet during all of this, his wide smile having drained to a stony-eyed stare at the woman at her comment of Linnorm Raiders. The men she spoke of were not truly Linnorms in his eyes, owing no allegiance to any man but themselves and possibly their chieftain, men who took what they wished and paid no reparations. He resented being clumped together with such honorless men and if it had been a man to voice the subtle insult he would have possibly challenged them to defend his people's honor.
He inwardly grimaces at the cold miserly glint in the woman's eyes and he turns his eyes away before his distaste for her character show in his eyes. People like her who profited by the death and labor of others, who raised prices and made less fortunate men work harder just to make it by.
The Knight sighs and then looks back up at the bird, making eye contact and he squints one eye to watch the bird's every movement. He held no prejudice against the avian creatures but this shirt was hand-sown by his mother's seamstresses for him, and it was one of the few things he still had to remember his life back in Linnorm. He didn't appreciate the ornery vulture trying to take bites out of the cloth.
Gawain turns his attention back to Mangur and Matt then to try and find something to talk about.
"Poor child! You suffer still from the fallacy that men cannot lie as well through their actions as they might through words," Alika hums, Azure eyes flashing. "How very young you are! Indeed, I too question why your teacher would send you ahead of himself," she replies.
"Know then only this, that I am beautiful, and have a talent for words," she says with an air of finality and smiles.
From the other end of the deck you hear a sound of what you must imagine is a cast iron pot being used for defense from a vicious mace attack. You see the deck hands begin tethering off their work and moving quickly toward the sound. Upon turning to the racket, you see a stout Dwarf with a short brown beard and healthy midsection beneath an apron. He is in fact, as you surmised, banging a hand mace against a large dented cauldron. He stops and calls once, in a definitive tone, "Lunch!" He then turns and walks down the stairs.
Maggur jumps up from the deck where he was sitting and hurries off to follow the dwarf below decks. He stops and looks back towards the group. "Its lunch time. Lets not be late, shall we!" With that, he disappears down into the galley.
Gawain jumps and on instinct looks for a weapon at the sound of supposed battle and he growls an oath in Ulfen when he sees it merely is the Cook alerting everyone to the lunch table. He grumbles and smooths back his hair, his heart still racing. That clamor had brought back to his mind too many nights of the town's bell ringing in urgency signaling an impending attack by some form of vicious raiding monsters or humans.
He follows the others, ignoring any jibes about his nerves or answering the more insulting ones with a glare.
After drifting off in a reverie, Matt comes back to hear the sharp words being exchanged. Mistress Alika, it seems you do indeed have a telaent for words. Both melodious, incitful and sharp; I would not like to get on you bad side. Shall we repast now? I am sure the chef would not want us to tarry."
Matt gives her his arm, out of courtesy, not expectation. Though he has not broke fast yet today, Matt feels little hunger. Still he moves to the dining area, apprehensious about what the cook has made. From his experiences generally it is a grey stew.
As Matt follows the cavalier inside; "Caution is good, friend Gawain, it prevents a knife in the back as surely as a steel surcoat."
Alika raises an eyebrow at the elf's offered arm, then gives a subtle shake of her head. "Neither of us profits by a public display of intimacy," she says softly, and will follow Gawain.
Alika eats sparingly, she cannot recall the last time she felt any amount of appetite pull at her belly. Her lack of attention to the meal allows her to consider the giant and his mercurial temper, and the child and his naivete. Left to her own devices, she would employ neither, and the elf did not appear to be in possession of either tact or discretion. Leaving Magnur of the languages...
A slow smile tugs at the corner of Alika's lips. A factor in the employ of private concerns, succinct and dismissive. His mastery of language was as impressive as his mastery of tongues. And there were several it seemed possible to relate information in cypher in should the occasion call for it that either were unlikely to understand without extensive study.
"Of course, my lady, I did not mean to act inappropriately. It was merely a gesture of courtesy, which is no reflection upon your rank, beauty, gender or ability." Matt says to Alika as she moves away to her own meal finding himself next to Tristan.
Gently he taps him upon the shoulder. "If you'll pardon me for saying; you should not be so hard on yourself or take the ladies words to heart. Your teacher probably sent you in his stead so further your education and to show you his trust. Does he have a name? Maybe I am familiar with him?"
The food placed before Matt looks as he expects it too. 'Well standard fare, but unusual passengers. Let's see what more there is to them.'
While eating, Mangur turns to Tristen and asks, "So, who was your teacher? And what was it that he was teaching you?
Tristen stares coldly at the back of the woman images of the priests entering into his home, his family being dragged out, his mother by her hair, and then watching the cultist fire being stoked as it was called. He watched them burn and scream....Tristen tears his thoughts away and reaches into his pack to offer Adler a treat of jerky before sending him off as he moves at the back of the others his stomach rumbling at the mention of food.
"People like her never have had hardship at all all she is concerned with is money seen people like that before high handed traders that wouldn't step out of their fancy coaches to save a babe, course they wanted the pelts we procured for them which they took just to sell at a higher price. My teacher? His name was Tomas sent me here cause he said he was too old to come on this voyage. He used to be a trapper other than that I don't know." He replies to the elf before turning his head to regard Mangur, "He was teaching me life, he found me when I was barely into my teen years, took me in taught me a trade, taught me how to handle Adler properly. Guess he used to be some Falconer for some noble and didn't want me as he put it "Wasting a perfectly good bird by making him fat" He grins good in good humor.
Mangur nods his head and smiles. "It is a magnificent creature, and your handle it superbly. I can see that it trusts you greatly. Such trust by an animal speaks very well of your character. And what of you, Sir Knight, " he asks, turning to address Gawain. "Tell me a bit about the order you follow, or are you a knight Errant? I have me a few of those in my time. What is your home like, and what brings you to the south?"
Gawain eats stoically, consuming the simple fare with gusto and trading hearty jests with the sailors before Mangur draws his attention with questions. Wiping his thick beard on his forearm, he pull from his neckline a small golden chain with the symbol of a roaring lion head. He grins proudly at it for a second then restows it and turns his eyes back to the linguist.
"My Order is that of the Lion, those Knights who follow a sworn King or Lord. I, however, have no such Lord as of yet, and it is in fact the reason I joined onto this expedition to Taldor. Laugh if you will at my mission," he spares the woman Alika an expectant glance for her to make a jest about his mission then continues "I left Linnorm and my family, noble warriors and Knights all, in search of a higher calling. I only hope in Taldor I find a man or woman worthy enough to pledge my blade to in fealty. Nor will I do so blindly, if we are to travel together, it will be someone whose interests and actions benefits us all, not just me."
He pauses then and gives Mangur a raised eyebrow look and then shrugs and goes into great detail of Linnorm, the weather, the beasts and the legends of the Dragon-slayer Kings. He speaks of glorious battles his family fought in, the murals of epic adventures his father hung in their manor and the battles he had fought in. He tells of the songs and the drink and the women, and of the beasts that surrounded the icy wastes until his throat becomes parched and he downs an entire tankard in one gulp and wipes his beard again politely.
"And what of you Sir Mangur?"
Alika sits quietly, spine as straight an arrow, legs clasped decorously at the ankles beneath her richly embroidered skirts. She has scarcely touched her meal, and drank of the water offered sparingly. When Gawain begins expounding on his home she simply stops listening. If it were so glorious, why leave? she wonders, and brushes crumbs from her skirts.
Mangur listens intently to the stories Gawain tells of his homeland. Once he is finished, he says, "Your home sounds both beautiful and dangerous. My background, however, is really neither. I was a disappointment to my family, so I was sent away. I travelled a great deal, found I was knowledgeable in picking up languages, as well as telling the value of items, so it just came naturally that I would fall into the role of factor to several coasters in Absalom." He turns to Matt when finished and asks, "And what of your story. If it pleases you, I would love to know more about your homeland and your people."
With a look of kind concern, as Tristan talks about harsh realities of his life. Then Gawains' valorous exploits and good humour draw a smile from Matt's face.
Mangur, that must be a rewarding experience. Valuing and deciphering items; have you worked with antiquities or just trade goods?" Matt asks with a curiousity.
'What to tell them, well the best lies are partial.' With a smile that does not reach his eyes or voice. "I am an incorrigible rogue and a vagabond. Travelling where the road takes me, exploring and cataloging." he says with a flourish. "By trade, I am a cartographer and geographer. Originally I come from Molthune, but that is many years ago now..." he says unsubtlely changing the subject. "My family are not too...connected with our hertitage really, staying amongst the human populace. So I am not really an expert upon my race." 'Probably why my line was cursed.'
No, nothing of value, Alika evaluates, pushes what was not consumed from in front of her face, and rises.
Leaving no word, Alika returns to the deck, and stands at the stern, watching the ships pull safely into port at Almas. The pain in her breast is dull, now, and constant, but there thrums beneath it the pulse of... energy she identifies as the source of her power.
A spontaneous caster, Ureste had snarled. A performer. A failure! Alika shivered to recall the skill with which his superior magics had easily incapacitated her.
"No hardship."
Alika chuckles softly, leans against the railing and induces vomiting.
Mangur finishes listening to the elf speak of his people and lands. He smiles politely, and watches as Alika silently gets up and leaves the table. Quickly excusing himself, he follows at a respectable distance. He hears her mummer something to herself, then lean over the rail, forcing herself to become sick.
Once she has finished this ritual, he approaches openly and says, "In some cultures that could either be considered an insult or a compliment. As I know you have traveled by ship before, I do not think it is seasickness, so I have to wonder if this is a simple ritual we should become accustom to, or a rare occurrence. Or maybe I should just mind my own business??" He stands a few feet away, waiting either for an answer, or a dismissal.
Watching as the lady leaves the galley. 'She probably just wants some space. Of course aboard a ship it's hard to find.'
Matt raises an eyebrow, finishes the little he had taken as part of his fast breaking. "So from the Lady's speech earlier; you are each on a voyage into the unknown with a similar objective? That token you showed to the mate?" Matt queries amongst the others remaining.
'She things her subtleties are hidden, but her anger and impetuousness get the better of her.'
"Is it a heraldic symbol of one of your Houses Gawain?" Matts' voice querying.
Alika turns her head and acknowledges Magnur's presence.
"Saw you one who you would easily mark as a priest among the number on this crew?" she inquires. "It is true that this is a short voyage, but how are we to be certain of the age of their stock? Of the quality of the water?"
Alika works up saliva in her mouth, and spits out the remaining foulness. "Enough remains for my stomach to process," she continues. "I cannot assume that the warrior has so little constitution not to pass whatever might be lurking in the stores with no ill effect, but you and I might."
"While I find their food rather bland, I do not think we need to worry about spoilage this early in the trip. As to a priest, I have not felt one here among us, but who knows. Some are very secretive."
Mangur sits quietly beside the lovely woman, watching the wake upon the water, and listening to the gulls floating above the ship. All is quiet and tranquil.
"So, tell me about why you are here? I can already tell you think little of the others, so tell me. What is your story?"
"I believe that the sentiment is reciprocated in earnest," Alika hums and laughs softly. "As a peer of the tongues of man, do you not find it infuriating how interpretation of intent differs wildly from one man to the next?"
Alika turns and rests her back against the railing, watching for the crew or their fellow passenger's exit.
"What manner of tale would satisfy your curiosity?" she inquires. "I am, by my very nature, inclined to be terse, but I may be inspired to verbosity. There exists within this breast the soul of an artist starved for expression," she quotes and beats upon hers dramatically, "or so my former master chastised frequently," she concludes and laughs again.
"It is that duplicity of the language that make my job so very lucrative. The nuance of the language is much harder to learn than the actual structure. It is the difference of knowing a tongue, and speaking a language. Or so I think."
Listening to Alika's laughter strikes an odd cord in Mangur.
He smile and looks out to the sea. "You are hiding something. No real surprise there! Aren’t we all hiding from something, or someone?No, no! Do not worry. I will not delve deeper into your story."
Mangur continues to enjoy the cool and fresh breeze blowing across the ship, watching the sailors, as well as the other passengers.
Matt pushes the food bowl away from him; takes up the violin and a small tub of wax and starts to rub it into the grain softly working it.
"So Gawain, did you get a letter requesting your skills like Tristan and Alika? I wonder what the 'benefactor is planning.' is states enigmatically.
"I am a performer, the very nature of my calling is diversion," Alika replies brightly, finding conversation with the linguist easy.
"You may delve as deep as you like," she continues, and gestures to the sea with a toss of the braids of her wig. "Human consciousness, like the sea, is not boundless, and neither is it static. The ancient mystics wrote that a man can never step into the same stream twice, on account its currents constantly being in motion. So too is the sum and perception of a man's experiences - mutable."
Alika smiles faintly. "I said earlier, my port of origin was Katapesh. Vague? Most certainly, but an educated mind, and certainly an interested one, would easily call to mind several images of Katapesh; metropolis, gold, trade - that being explicit, immoral and illicit - and Abadar and consider these four topics a basis for an understanding of an unknown character."
Gawain covers his mouth yet again and sets down his ale tankard politely. "Sorry I must not have heard you before. The pendant I carry is a small thing my father gave to me when I was a lad, told me that our line had ever fought as Lions, and I should as well. It's a silyl thing, but it is also the Symbol of my Order, so I keep it close for more than just sentimentality."
He rubs his chin thoughtfully at Matt's question. "Truth be told, I was simply requested to come here by an old friend and employer. Are you familiar with Ottoman and Son's Trading Co? I worked with them for a year or two and he sent me along with this letter from an "old friend" he said." Gawain shrugs. "As to the intent of our newest employer, I have not a clue. It could be he just wants some new hired muscle. Tell me, what is your preferred weapon of choice Matt? The bow, a spear, a knife, a sword?"
"You dissemble well, my lady. In my homeland, such an opening bodes for an interesting game. We call it Shah, but it is more commonly called chess, here in the west. And as to where you come from, I am sure your port was Katapesh, but that is not where you grew up, or were taught. But that is neither here, nor there. I enjoy your company, and need only ask why you choose me as a roommate?"
Tristen finishes his meal and nodding to the friendly elf makes his way back up to the deck where letting out a sharp whistle calls for Adler.
Like a gold and balck comet the bird descends before swiftly unfurling it's wings to arrest its descent and lands gracefully for so large a bird on Tristen's outstretched arm. Cooing softly Tristen pets the odd colored vulture.
"Where you been hey? Seen anything interesting?" he asks Adler his voice showing the utmost interest in the squakws he recieves as answers.
Alika smiles softly. "The least educated peer knows that elves have no need of sleep," she replies, "there is something inherently unsettling about their trance state. My costume is extremely valuable, and did not wish it to be pecked at by a child's ill tempered avian companion. And the giant..." Alika hums and shrugs, "I wished to avoid unfounded rumor about our relationship spreading amongst the crew. Such a negative opinion of him, and myself, might cause a decline in morale which may endanger our voyage."
Mangur grins. "And here I thought it was my boyish good looks!" Turning around he is just in time to see the large bird land gently upon the fellow Tristen's outstretched arm. "If you will excuse me, I will leave you to your contemplation and regurgitation."
Walking across the deck, Mangur go to speak with the captain to see what their arrival time should be.
Alika chuckles softly at Magnur's parting jest, and leans back against the rail again, and slides her eyes closed.
In truth, Alika despised sea voyages. The inconstant roiling, the stench of the salt, the knowledge of how the slightest mistake could end in the death of every passenger and member of the crew. And the crew... Animals could be trained just as well and might replace them, but then one would have to employ a trained handler, and those were in short supply and could demand an exorbitant salary and negate the ease of simply replacing a sick or injured animal at the next port.
Much of Alika's inherent distaste for sea voyages stemmed from her first, in fact, almost all of it did, but none could be said to be at the forefront of her mind more than the lack of methods and options to escape. Certainly, she might take a stroll along the deck, or... she might simply dangle from the rigging for how much progress she would make there. Sailors were a particularly superstitious lot, she recalled, ill educated and fearful of magics. To soothe her mind, Alika might have cast a spell and began tracing a score to test her memory, but... alas, even a cantrip may be misinterpreted as an ill omen.
And would expose me...
Alika sighs and wishes there were books placed in the trunk that was brought. She should have thought, had... had she the capacity for thought. Charmed, incapacitated, his magics were superior in every way! And so well chosen. Not a one that she could not cast herself, were she stronger. Oh no, he had meant for her to know that, Alika was certain. His resources were greater, his reach was greater.
'Struggle,' he had hissed.
Alika's eyes snap open, and she steps away from the rail, and begins her aimless stroll along the deck, having naught else to occupy her thoughts than the placement of her feet in front of another to a simple cadence.
Matt places all the wooden bowls together keeping them in a wooden stack as he listens to Gawain. "Nothing that you attach significance to is silly. Provided your fetish is not harmful. But I do believe I did come across 'Ottoman & Sons'. The were running some clothing from the north, they made a good deal on it too if I remember correctly."
Matt looks away slightly. "I do a bit of archery, mainly light cavalry. But fighting's not my forte, a bit of wrestling with a willing lady however can change my mind. Excuse me a second."
Matt picks up the bowls and moves towards the cook in the galley, handing them to him. "I don't suppose you have any strong alcohol? Any old rotgut will be fine, nothing quality." he quietly asks the chef, placing a gold piece in his hand. He waits for the cook to produce a bottle.
He then moves back to the table, sitting down next to the pair of men. "I need to get a couple of new strings for the violin so we can have a song tonight? Be back in a couple of minutes."
Picking up the violin Matt moves back to his cabin across the deck, stows the bottle and the starts back towards the mess.
Matt wanders back down to the mess and sits on the hard bench. Picking up his waxed violin he starts to restring the instrument. Slowly making sure every pitch is decent.
In the afternoon sunlight Matt spends it on the deck looking out across the sea. Keeping out of the way of the sailors as they go about there business. Gently under the roiling waves the lean elf sits, the ships' motion lulling him to sleep.
Though everytime he gets near the threshold to the dreamlands, he jerks himself awake with a start. 'That is too close, I need to be more alert.'
Everyone spends a quiet, peaceful afternoon enjoying the openness of the sea. Eventually your repose is broken by the racket of cook's "bell" as "Dinner!" is called.
Feeling no ill effect from the lunch, Alika dines on a half cup of ale a heel of dark, crusty bread and a wedge of what she presumes from the smell to be cheese. Alika uses a small dagger to cut decorous bites of each, becoming only mildly annoyed when the cheese crumbles at the slightest touch. She lifts the ale to her lips, and scarcely wets them with the fluid to wash the heady mix down when the taste becomes oppressive.
Feeling her stomach protest the intrusion, Alika sets the heel of bread down, and a strange smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she begins passing the weapon between her slender fingers with excessive ease before it seems to disappear from sight.
"This is like to be an exceedingly long voyage if we continue to simply stare at each other like adversaries at chess at every meal. Unless, of course, one of you has a chess set?" Alika looks about hopefully.
"So far as I understand it, as a competitor, we are currently in possession of several key pieces, the knight," Alika gestures to Gawain, "the rook," Alika smiles and nods to the boy, "and our bishops," Alika chuckles and spares a glance for Mangur and Matt.
"Now, our King... well then, he is invariably surrounded by pawns," Alika says, her voice dropping to a whisper. "How might we maneuver around these obstacles to make our desire for better faire be known. This exercise assumes that there is something to be done for it, which is false, but I do sometimes indulge in flights of fancy."
Matt comes at the dinner bell. Again the meal is hardly more inspired to his tastes than the last, but he eats a bit more heartier than before. Looking around the rest of the crew seem like the typical group to his eyes, it's the passengers that interest him.
Then the dusky lady starts stabbing the knife between her fingers. 'She has eaten as little as me and now she seems determined to stab herself!'
The young elf blanches noticeably against his bronzed skin. "Madam, please be careful unless you wish yourself under the minstrations of the ships doctor." He nods his head at the cook, who is likely the bonesaw for the vessel too.
"I have a gameboard if you wish to play me." Matt says with an urgency hoping she will stop the folly with the knife.
"A bishop," Matt laughs kindly "that is one thing I have never been called, it would require vows of chastity and humility."
Matt says as he moves towards the door, a couple of minutes later he returns with a game board and pack of cards.
Setting the table, the pieces are arrayed before them.
Alika taps her fingertips near the edge of the chessboard and considers the pieces for a few moments.
"I have more than a slight distaste for this game," she hums melodiously, sweeping her hand across the board. "The board, like the deck of this vessel, is too restrictive. As in life," Alika lifts the queen and slams it on the table, "the b*tch not only drives the cadence, she writes the melody."
"That is why she sets the tone, moves the furthest. The King is unimportant unless he falls." Matt says thoughfully, placing the pieces slowly across the board. "You only value that which can be lost. The pawns are the most relevant, moving and shaping the game."
"White or Black?"
With a tilt of his head "So you did not want to play, it's too restrictive? Everything is too restrictive! That is the beauty of the game, learning to abide by the restrictions. Something it seems you cannot do." Matt says his voice grating slightly.
"What is it you wish to do then? You suggest a game, I provide one. It is not to your tastes. I have cards? What do you want? We are stuck upon this vessel for the next 3 days, I would rather have a good time than gripe. I repeat; White or Black?" he says his tone starting to get slightly frustrated.
"You listen remarkably little for one who claims to be a performer," Alika replies, and rises. "How is one to progress without adjudicating and analyzing the work of others?" she shakes her head.
"As before, it seems my company is ill received. I elect to retire. Good evening."