So where did you learn to mindspeak, or was it something that you were born with?
After darkness falls, Ooduls approaches Cinderwake, "Hey Mate, what's with the speed? How are you going to detect approaching threats from below during nightfall at this rate?"
Despite being off duty, and despite gripping an iron tin full of—presumably—the same rum and citrus the rest of the crew are consuming, Cinderwake tenses at Ooduls' approach like a coiled viper ready to strike. Seeing the somewhat familiar face of the recently boarded Bedool, she relaxes a bit to her usual rigid posture.
"You turtlefolk are the best hands available for navigating the seas, I'll grant you, but our captain has clued onto something that gives Mirael's Destiny the advantage on travel times--" Cinderwake doesn't use words to explain what that advantage might be, instead allowing a small grin as she looks up and points to the crow's nest. Barely visible from the main deck is the head of a Lowan peeking out over the edge of the nest, peering down at Reep who in turn is peering back up at the peculiar lookout.
Approaching one of the nearby tables of card-players, he will lower himself down slightly as he addresses them. "Greetings. May I perhaps join you?"
It is often difficult for the Makhor to tell some of the furless races apart (and vice versa), and the two Auroran women engaged in a game of cards seem impossible to distinguish between. They do seem receptive enough to Servius' request, at least. One nods and makes to reach for a nearby barrel, but stops halfway as she realizes who—or more specifically, what—she is dealing with. Instead, she simply nods again and gestures to an empty space near to their makeshift table.
"I'm Kolweth. Second-Mate Kolweth," states the elf who offered you a spot. She inclines her head towards the other Auroran woman sitting across from her and says, "This is Kelweth. Third-Mate Kelweth. We're playing small stakes here, I'm afraid. It's just a friendly game, but you're welcome to join in."
"Huh? Don't know those Lowan's much."
"Why you so tense, honey? Shore leave usually takes care of that. Unless you've got some predators on the ship." The pirate Bedool finishes with a swig of his rum, citrus grog.
Lo’tan continues to casually mingle amongst the crew, getting a feel for who among them were weak willed or simple minded versus who actually had enough brain cells to creat a rattle if you removed their head from their shoulders and shook it like a jar of beans. His reptilian companion always remained nearby, but chose to lazily sun itself in a sunbeam when not moving about the ship with its master.
Lo’tan would periodically entertain the crew with displays of magic before going to bed, making minor effects happen alongside his tales from his time in the swamp. Whether or not these tales are factual or not is a matter of debate, but they alwere interesting stories nonetheless. As he regained the crew with his oratory, he would use his magic to cause candles to flicker out or blaze tomlife, or to create scents or gentle breezes to emphasize a scene.
"I'm Kolweth. Second-Mate Kolweth," states the elf who offered you a spot. She inclines her head towards the other Auroran woman sitting across from her and says, "This is Kelweth. Third-Mate Kelweth. We're playing small stakes here, I'm afraid. It's just a friendly game, but you're welcome to join in."
Sitting at the offered spot, Servius inclines his head to both of the women. "Greetings Second-Mate Kolweth and Third-Mate Kelweth. I thank you both for letting me join your game. I know that many other races have issues interacting with my own, so I appreciate that you two did turn me away. As for the stakes, I was not looking to make a profit off of the cards anyway. Now, what game is it that you two have been playing?"
Still amused by this captain's ways, she continues, with genuine curiosity entering her voice.
"I would know of you, Captain Embergloom. Who are you? And how did you come by this vessel?"
"An upstart son who was not fortunate enough to be born first that has chosen to squander his family's fortunes on the open sea instead of buried in a library in the shadow of the Auruspire. That's Captain Embergloom. More than that would spoil the enigma, I think. And besides, the throbbing in my head from consuming my weight in cider leaves me decidedly less interested in grand histories." His words are straightforward and somewhat disinterested, if not outright blunt. Tzacol notes that his skin is not quite so pale as it initially appeared. The captain seems to be made up in a white powder, even beneath his clothes, though some bouts of ample sweating (likely the night and day prior) have resulted in the makeup caking slightly near to his scalp and about his neck.
So where did you learn to mindspeak, or was it something that you were born with?
Reep briefly calls to mind fetid air and a chorus of laughter. It is immediately replaced by the cooing voice once more: 'Others learn with tongues, but my kind learns with mind. All others speak slow, slow, so slow.'
The Lowan above takes flight to approach Reep more closely. He bobs up and down awkwardly in the air some five feet away from the Meerk's position. He seems a little plumper than what few Lowans Reep has encountered in his years, with enormous black orbs for eyes emerging from a veritable bush of grey fur. His wings are a vibrant pattern of blacks, purples, and greys that trail small wisps of dust with each beat. His thorax and abdomen are covered in leathers and straps, a pair of knives and light crossbow visible dangling from various places.
'I am called Abrupt Forgiveness. What is your name, friend-Meerk?'
I am called Reep'Tchk'Tchk, but you may call me Reep. Everyone does. How did you come by your name? it seems like there is a story there. thinks Reep with an audible chuckle.
Tzacol attempts to discern Embergloom's true colour as he speaks.
"If not histories, then how about grand tales of the sea? You surely must have encountered cultured people and finery on your travels."
"Huh? Don't know those Lowan's much."
"Why you so tense, honey? Shore leave usually takes care of that. Unless you've got some predators on the ship." The pirate Bedool finishes with a swig of his rum, citrus grog.
"Best pair of eyes for seeing things lurking in the dark," Cinderwake responds curtly. At the other remarks, her rigid demeanor evaporates into something a little closer to rage. Her jaw clenches nearly as tightly as the grip on her sword's hilt.
"Our... crew maintain respectful and professional boundaries both on and offboard. Emulating that behavior might make this trip a little more hospitable for... all parties."
Sitting at the offered spot, Servius inclines his head to both of the women. "Greetings Second-Mate Kolweth and Third-Mate Kelweth. I thank you both for letting me join your game. I know that many other races have issues interacting with my own, so I appreciate that you two did turn me away. As for the stakes, I was not looking to make a profit off of the cards anyway. Now, what game is it that you two have been playing?"
Kolweth smiles sympathetically, but faintly. "True enough. I won't say the Empire hasn't done plenty to justify the animosity of other peoples, but it's true that no one chooses their birthplace. There's also the fact that the Auruspire has had nothing beyond beneficial trade agreements with Makhoran parties."
After shuffling the deck and dealing cards around the table, she says, "Less about heavy topics, yeah? Let others wax philosophic about the Empire's soul. Tends to spoil a night of light drinking and cards, in my experience."
Ooduls makes a face and a noise but holds his tongue. He takes long pull of his rum, citrus grog and walks away from the first mate.
His comments were the pirate Bedool being respectful and professional. Wow, this first mate needs some serious shore leave.
I am called Reep'Tchk'Tchk, but you may call me Reep. Everyone does. How did you come by your name? it seems like there is a story there. thinks Reep with an audible chuckle.
'I liked the sound of it, so I chose it for myself. Friends become enemies become friends. Funny, no?'
Abrupt Forgiveness alights on the boom next to Reep, almost uncomfortably close, and stares directly at the Meerk with his huge, insectoid eyes. 'What does Reep mean?'
Quite. What do you think of our trip so far?
Captain Embergloom, though decidedly reticent, relents under Tzacol's persistence and recounts a few tales of he and his crew's daring-dos while plying their trade on the open waters. Most of his stories seem exaggerated and painfully rehearsed, though the latter can be safely attributed to the hangover's effects. A great deal of his tales tend to deal with outrunning entire fleets of Bedool pirates, while the tallest tale involves outwitting a sea dragon in a game of riddles to save his crew from being made morsels by the creature. Within each telling is a sliver of truth, though what those truths might be is well hidden by Embergloom's grandiose wit.
Much of the crew take some effort to warm to Lo'tan with his enigmatic presence. His theatrics do most of the heavy lifting in that regard, and he is at least greeted with friendly nods or waves in passing instead of averted or downcast eyes.
Arlk is mostly left to his own devices, even by the Bedoolan ship's crew. His shattered and scarred visage paint a picture of past horrors they can scarce imagine. Nevertheless, they are pointedly not rude to him, so much as politely wary. In stark contrast, Ooduls makes friends with the rest of the crew easily, with the exception of First-Mate Cinderwake, whose stoic reservedness remains utterly insurmountable. He is able to confirm what he's already suspected: none of the crew have dabbled in the same colored past as he has, but there is still a common bond enough among those who make a life upon the water that makes forming social bonds easier for him than others.
Reep's budding friendship with Abrupt Forgiveness proves to be a bit of a handful. His mind flits from subject to subject wildly with no apparent rhyme or reason, and the remainder of the voyage evolves into a situation where the Lowan becomes a nuisance with a constant barrage of asinine questions and light-hearted pranks.
By the time a week has passed, uneventfully, the excitement of the crew and their new, temporary shipmates has worn down to something a little more rote. The archaeology crew seldom leave their bunk for much of anything, instead furiously poring over notes and maps from the safety of their bunk room. This decline in joviality also coincides with a somber shift in attitudes as a stretch of short days culminate in a permanent nightfall...
...the planetary eclipse has arrived. Bleak darkness stretches out in all directions, save for a scant few stars that dot the horizon that is not blotted out by the sister-planet's presence. Bleak darkness, except for a barely visible spot of glowing orange and red to the Northwest—a chain of volcanic isles.
Tzacol appreciates the captain's tales, while silently trying to work out what truths and advantage she may glean from them.
Later in the voyage, she seeks Embergloom again, hoping to assess him when less hungover.
Should she find him, she will ask:
"So, what do you make of this voyage? The darkness and the isles of ill-repute to the Bedool?"
Lo'tan stands on the deck of the ship, looking out towards the volcanoes in the distance. To anyone who happens to be standing nearby, he muses aloud, "Well, dis be intrestin'. Fire from da wata. I 'ad 'eard about such tings, but neva seen dem."
"Who wouldn't fear mountains that spewed fire, rock and poison gas? I imagine they're of ill repute to anyone that cannot survive the lava." Arlk wasn't thrilled with the idea of going near the burning islands, but if you wanted to hide something valuable, and had the means to keep it safe from the liquid stone pouring out...there were few places safer, really.
You'd have to be a little crazy to even try.
Ooduls greatly enjoyed his week vacation cruise. He lounged in the sun on the deck during the day and caroused at night with the crew. Getting paid to sail without crewing was a dream come true. He wonders if he could make a business of this, when he retires from mercing.
==========================
During the planetary eclipse, the pirate Bedool tried to relaz on the forecastle, but the nightfall during the day really bothered him. But, he attempted to keep up the appearance of carefree confidence.
"It's just a little gas. It's survivable." offers Reep.
"While few stray from ports of call during the long night, such superstitions provide a prime opportunity," Captain Embergloom says to Tzacol with a practiced smile. "Pirates are the most superstitious sort to sail on these waters, so this long night is often the best opportunity to traverse unfriendly waters with no fear of ambush."
While most of the occupants aboard Mirael's Destiny remain with eyes glued to the somewhat ominous glow of active volcanoes yet miles away, Ooduls—perhaps owing to a bout of paranoia and unease at present circumstances—allows a worried gaze to wander elsewhere along the waterline. He's not sure what he's looking at even as he beholds it: a pair of orange orbs, barely pin-points at such a great distance, rise up out of the water and hold position for a brief moment before disappearing into the ocean. Under cover of so much darkness it is difficult for Ooduls to guess at how far away the motes of fiery light truly were, but it strikes him as an immense distance (perhaps nearly as far as the volcanic isles).
Tzacol nods, taking in what she can.
"A man of accomplishment such as yourself must have particular foes who would seek to ambush your vessel. Do any come to mind?"
His smile deepening, Linvas Embergloom shrugs somewhat coyly as he reclines lazily along the aft-castle's railing. Tzacol easily picks up on the fact that there is likely one or many answers to her specific query. The Captain, however, settles on a predictably vague admission.
"The Destiny is a bit of a sticking point for most ne'er-do-wells, I'm afraid. Most Bedool, especially the pirates, are a little too prideful to admit that an Auroran ship can outrun anything they throw at her. The more who try—and fail—the more tempting a target The Destiny becomes for some turtle-pirate with designs on being named Volskwoo." The Captain leans a bit closer to Tzacol's towering form and flirtatiously traces a crooked finger along the contour of her left shoulder. "As to specific enemies? None that would pose a threat to so magnificent a specimen as yourself, darling."
Arlk completely fails to comment on the slights against his people, and continues to look out to sea. "It is good we're unlikely to see fighting at the moment, at least above the waves. Are they any natural creatures in these waters that might be a threat?"
Tzacol continues to assess and measure the man's words.
"That is plausible. The Bedool do tend to be proud of their seafaring ways. Do you have any specific tactics to help dispense with common pirates swiftly? With such practice, you must surely have a few."
With all of the comments against Bedool pirates, Ooduls keeps his observation about orange glowing eyes to himself.
Captain Embergloom proves implacably squirmy in fielding the various questions aimed his direction, albeit with a thick veneer of practiced debonair posturing to go with it. He seizes upon Arlk's curiosity about marine wildlife initially, rambling off a list of creatures both timid and fearsome, but offers assurances that there is nothing The Destiny can't outrun on open waters (an answer itself to Tzacol's inquiry about the Captain's preferred method for dealing with threats). Ooduls knows better, however, having fared the seas professionally as a plunderer and chaser of horizons. While incredibly (and thankfully) uncommon, there are things that bubble up from the deepest depths of the ocean that cannot be explained away as anything other than terror made manifest. Stories abound among the turtle-folk of disjointed, shapeless horrors that surface to sink entire Bedoolan fleets before disappearing again.
All told, despite his frustratingly evasive nature, his claims of relying on ship speed to put problems well behind rings true. The only trouble therein lies with the fact that speed is always enough until it isn't.
You are still deep in idle conversation with the Captain when his nose spontaneously wrinkles up in an exaggerated scowl, preceding an incredulous tone to the question: "Aurusfont Above, what is that stench?" It is faint enough at first, but something akin to the scent of rotten tomatoes overtakes the deck of the ship. With each passing second, the smell grows stronger. Judging by the confused and nauseated expressions of the rest of the crew on deck, it is a widespread and uniformly acknowledged situation.
Arlk's head turned beneath his hood. His sense of smell was one of the many things that didn't work as well as it might have, these days.
Tzacol considers further questioning of the evasive captain, but then catches the stench.
"What is that!?", she asks loudly to whomever is in earshot. She then immediately begins seeking the source.
Having been walking about on the main deck of the ship, Servius will lift his head and crinkle his snout at the first hint of the incoming smell.
"Huh? What?" The Bedool pirate looks around.
Lo’tan sniffs the air, looking over the rails as he studies the water near the ship.
.