Dinner is a long affair with most of the crew sitting in the large galley, sharing stories and partaking of ale. Rukkus attempts to goad anyone willing into a drinking contest.
Drago, Auralea, Harakhty and Cyna sleep as well as possible with Stephen carrying on. Skaar does not return to the group's quarters for the night.
Morning comes with a light rain that disperses quickly. You are served a small breakfast of salted beef and biscuits. Once again, Drago is served a chalice.
After breakfast, Auralea trains on deck while some of the crew watch with barely concealed admiration. Harakhty again spends time with the two vanaras. The next couple of hours roll along with little to note.
When he is seen again by others aboard the ship, it's surprisingly late into the morning but the big orc is well rested, fed, and his lumbering gait is full of unmistakable swagger.
He immediately sets out to check on his charges.
The big orc spends the first hour of his morning with the rest of the crew, watching Aurelea go about her bladework. There was no denying the woman knew her way around a sword. He only hoped she was as deft in a fight. At the very least the greenskin brute had to give her credit for being bold. She didn't seen to shirk at all from the attention she was getting.
Content that the swordswoman was safe for now, Skaar left to find Drago. The pale human had seemed disturbed the day before, perhaps worried, and for once it wasn't about him. Was someone on the crew threatening him? Was he in danger? The hulking orc found his charge below decks, outside the bright late-morning sunlight.
"Drago", Skaar grunted in greeting. "You sleep good?"
Normally, Harakhty would not like to confess his shortcomings to more than he had to. The brothers made it clear the crew was very comfortable with their captain though, so he overrode his normal protocol and spoke with Mohato present:
"Captain, when I first boarded this ship, your tussle with Jitty left me thinking you a bad man. I've spoken with your crew since. They told me the truth about Jitty - and about you. It would seem I were a poor judge of character. For that I am sorry, and I ask your forgiveness." He normally would bow his head to wait for the man's response, but - given his stature - it was already bowed as much as it could be.
After his reply, the Vanara continued. "Someone so good to his people should not have to endure the harassment that man puts you through. Why not leave him in a port to make his own life apart from you?" If he was truly devout, Harakhty knew he would pursue the man's redemption at his own discomfort; admirable, but cumbersome.
He glances to the crewmate, then back to Rando. "This Horace the Red ... I do not know of him, but I do know your deeds have earned my respect though, so you will have my arm if he lashes out at you." Harakhty didn't know how much help he could actually be, but his offer was genuine.
His mother piped in once again, "Animal's blood? Really? Gods you are weak. How could I have raised such cowardly offspring?" She faded away as suddenly as she appeared. Drago smiled.
After dinner, the Sorceror slept like the dead. The next morning, when Drago saw the chalice next to his next to his plate of food, he found himself thinking, I am going to have to find out how he knew. After having breakfast he sought out the captain. Seeing the Harakhty speaking to him, he decided he could ask later. After all, it's not like there are a lot of places to go.
Drago went back below deck to get out of the sun, for it did sting his eyes harshly. He wasn't there long before Skaar appeared and asked his question. "I slept fine, thank you. And yourself? I noticed you didn't sleep here last night."
"Last night wuz gud - had a tumble wit' a woman on da crew. 'Slept in her place this mornin'", the massive greenskin answered plainly.
Eager to get to the bottom of his observation, Skaar's crude features shifted to reflect his rather aggressive concern.
"Ar thing's good fer you? You'r actin' funny yesterday, like sometin' wuz botherin' ya. Someone on da crew threatin' you? Say da word and I'll bust um good."
Savage begins drinking upon waking up.
"Why would anything be bothering him? He's just a weak, cowardly, bastard who murdered his mother in her sleep!" His mother screamed in his mind.
Resisting to urge to scream out loud at her, Drago replied to Skaar, "It's no one on the crew or in our little group. I get a nagging headache from time to time, but it's something I've dealt with all my life. Sorry friend, there isn't much you can do to help."
Skaar furrowed his heavy brow and studied the human closely (although he didn't really know what he was looking for).
"You's sick? Go see da snake-woman. She'll fix ya gud."
Chuckling in his mind, Drago thought, If only it were that easy.
"I'm afraid, my friend, there is little she could do to help. We all have our burdens to bear, and this is mine. With that, he stood up, slapped the Orc on the shoulder and went above top-side, crimson hood pulled up.
Still confused but satisfied that Drago was in no immediate danger, Skaar dropped the topic and watched the pale man exit back topside.
He must be really sick.
As Harakhty speaks, Rando pulls his pipe from his jacket. He searches for some tobacco, but finds none and clenches the pipe in his teeth. He looks at the vanara intently.
"Ye owe me no apology. Wha' I did weren't right by any means," Rando says with shame. "I still feel the anger burnin' in me. True, he may have been a murderer, but, if I fail t' give 'im a chance, I fail Sarenrae. An' I want her fergiveness more 'n anythin'."
He sighs. "Yer courage is admirable, but, if Horace comes, I will make sure ye and yer group get offa here safely. Me crew'll take care o' me, like they always have."
His piece spoken, Harakhty leaves the captain to his pipe, primed or not. Harakhty felt better for apologizing, even if it were unnecessary. At times, he was scolded in the church for being overly emotional, not calculating enough in his actions. One-track mind, they were, always focusing on the pursuit of the esoteric and arcane. Though a good study, the young agent disagreed with their approach, keeping his strong conscience - what they would call quirks to be ironed out in time - inact.
Harakhty gazed out over the water. It was rather beautiful, in truth. He'd seen the sea from shore before, but never from its middle. The world was so vast! The morning's rain cleared up into a brilliant sun reflecting off the water, and Harakhty likewise reflected on himself. The conscience he preserved often tugged at him to make amends for actions he'd rather not take, yet saw rationally as the best choices. Many a threat or bolt had given him to nights wrought with guilt and discomfort, but in the end, he knew the ends justified the means; he saw no other way to be reuinited it Naeem.
So too were the actions he now took, but the situation was a bit different; he now decided what the forks in the road would be, not Nethys' clergy, and it was him on which the onus fell to justify how much deception, intimidation, or violence was acceptable. He knew he'd become more manipulative since joining the church, but outside of their jurisdiction, he was astounded how easily duplicity came to him. The transition from pitting the brothers against the captain to pitting the captain and crew against Jitty took him only a moment to see - and less than that to accept. His thoughts had already turned to using the passive threat of Horace to his advantage, but he didn't wish to think on that now. Deceiving others did not make him happy, nor did Harakhty take pride in squeezing sensitive details out of his targets. They were but means to an end.
In his introspection, lapses of which often ensnared him, he had not been observant of his surroundings. Taking a glance around, the young Vanara decided it was time for yet another talk - for better or for worse.
"Skaar, I ... I don't want any trouble. Last night, I don't know if you were out planning to take some of our group as slaves, but you should know we Vanaras are not strong. We would not be much use to you. I will do favors for you, but I will not be your servant." Knowing where the crew stood gave Harakhty some measure of backbone against the green tower. However, the possibility had arisen in his head the Orc and Jitty could be allied. All that needed be done would be to turn on them if this Horace appeared, and they would be lost. Time to fish out that end. "There is talk of a Horace the Red who means harm to come to this ship and those on it. We must be ready if he comes."
Seeing the Vanara leave the captain, Drago stepped forward to make his inquiry.
"Ho there, Captain, may I ask you a question?"
The halfling looks up at the dhampir. "I sure am popular this mornin'. What kin I do fer ye?"
The doctor leaves his room finally. "Gods in Hell, what sort of hurricane superstorm nonsense is this?!? Water all around us! We're stranded! The monkey man wants to steal my liquor and eat my brain! Where is food?!?"
"Hey, mate, you look a little on edge. The sea does that to everybody. I'll make this quick. The captain is a bit parched in this morning heat. Can you do me a favor and take this up to him? Maybe the air'll clear your head. Tell him it's from Robaldi, he'll know. I'll make sure you get some food and some ale while you do that."
He offers a dark-colored bottle to you.
Lowering his voice, the Damphir asked, "How did you know of my.....condition?"
Rando waves Mohato away, obviously picking up on Drago's want to be discreet. "We've sailed a long time and we've seen many places. Robaldi's a keen eye when it comes t' folk. We once ran into a colony o' dhampirs in Hannal, so we know what they need."
After grooming her horse Cyna will make her way to the deck for some fresh air and sunshine. Find a nice open space and treat her equipment so the salty sea air dosn't rust it.
"Robaldi, is it? Hm, sure, yes, I can do that. The Captain, I assume, is the one that would be yelling at the others. A rather special gift from one of his sailors. Absinthe? Wine? Adrenal fluid? Tell me, man, you seem to be a man who knows his way around the bodies systems ...ale, food ...the stuff for babies and Dwarves, but not for Dwarven babies, at least after midnight. Got anything better? Wait, IS this adrenal fluid???" Stephen opens the bottle and sniffs deeply.
Skaar laughed at the vanara's assumptions. It was a low deep rumbling, something like the sound a big animal would make in its sleep. The hulking orc, looked down at Harakhty with the beginnings of a smile on his bestial tusked visage.
"Not takin' slaves, lil' 'Nara. Layin' pipe."
The big orc studied the young simian closely. There was something on his mind, more than temporarily conquered fear of him. He repeated the gesture he used last time and craned his bullneck to get closer to Harakhty's eye level.
That makes people more comfortable right?
"Don't need servants. Don't need slaves. No trouble. Partners", he explains jabbing a massive digit at the vanara and then jabbing a thumb at himself.
"What do ya mean 'Horace means harm'? You dink he's gunna hurt someone?"
"The captain is partial to that stuff. Helps to calm his nerves. It's one o' those special halfling brews, deadly for a human or anyone else as their stuff usually is. You know how them halflings are. It's probably moonshine and orc blood for all I know," the peglegged man says. "But if you're into the exotic stuff, I can get you a little something-something that'll open your mind. But leave that for the captain, don't want him getting mad now."
@Cyna: As you're treating your gear, Sersel comes up to you and squats down. "Did you sssleep okay, dear? I heard that human carrying on all night."
An entire colony? If I get the chance, I just may have to visit there," he thought.
"Well I'm grateful for the special vintage, it may not be as good, but it will do." Seeing the only other female of their group come up on deck, Drago excused himself and made his way to her.
Hello there, Cyna is it? I don't believe I've introduced myself to you yet. My name is Drago Skorzeny. So what brings you on this voyage?"
This time, Harakhty did not scurry away from the Orc; he'd left room in case he tried to lean in again. Besides, he was trying to puzzle out the greenskin's colloquialism, his head slightly cocked to the side; unlike Stephen, there weren't much in the way of context clues from the terse Skaar. His common was not yet perfect, though given the Orc's own misspeakings of language, he wasn't sure if the folly lay on his end or Harakhty's.
Stumped, he continued making his case to Skaar. Partners? It didn't seem he was fibbing, so he took his words at face value. While it was good to worry less about the Orc, he didn't know if he could come to like him. Time would tell.
Harakhty nodded to Skaar's last inquiry and lowered his voice. "But when or where I don't know. He has boats too though, and could follow us here if need be." The captain trusted Skaar more than Harakhty did, so he went along with Saltspray's assessment for now. "He is a powerful man, likely with ships of quality enough to chase us down. If he did, your strength would be needed to defend us." His appraisal of the prospect seemed accurate; he certainly could take on more than a few men - a definite necessity as Harakhty was about as green as they came.
"Oh, certainly, certainly. See, I knew I could rely on you. Something special in your eyes. The Captain will get his halfling stout, and you and I will have time to get acquainted on this trip, I believe. Ever had Elvish Amarone?"
"Can't say that I have," the peglegged fellow says. "I have a couple things to do right now, but afterward we can enjoy the fruits of our labors."
The peglegged man hobbles away, whistling. He heads toward the hold of the ship.
Cyna seems suprised when her newest friend Sersel and the pale man who seems to hide himself from the noonday sun approach her on the deck. " Ah. Hello Sersel. He really did carry on didn't he? But I think it's something that we are going to get used to. Right, Drago was it? " Cyna holds out her hand in greeting to one of her fellow travelers. " I am here on behalf of the green circle. To ensure that Zahvroma is a safe place, there have been rumers that have caused unease within my group. Others before me ... ah nevermind that. What about you Mr. Skorzeny, what brings you here?"
Skaar's laughter slowed down and then stopped as the stripped vanara's normally animated features looked blank and lost. The big orc paused, had he not been clear? He took a breath and tried again.
To illustrate his expression, the greenskin brute firmly gripped the sizable bulge at the front of his hide leggings and grunted for effect.
"Layin' pipe. Wit' a woman... In a bed..."
Skaar considered explaining that the bed part wasn't mandatory and that technically the woman part wasn't either but declined for now.
At the mention of boats and ships, the big orc appeared lost. He hadn't seen any other vessels. He looked around surveying the horizon for sign of a hostile ship but not seeing any (I assume), he simply nodded.
"I got it. 'Dis Horace is lookin' fer trouble. If he shows up, I'll send him packin' in stitches. If he hurts you, the other Explorers, or da crew, I'll break him. For gud."
The hulking figure cracked the knuckles on his massive fists for emphasis.
"Well, the instructions I recieved were to survey the land for settlement purposes." Drago said while accepting her offered hand. Her hand felt warm and soothing compared to his slightly cooler skin. "Besides," he bent down and kissed her hand, "It's an adventure, and those always spice up ones life." His eyes seemed to gleam a slight crimson for a second. "I look forwar to working with you. But I see you're a little busy, perhaps we can talk later." With that he turned and headed back below decks.
"Missster Ssskorzeny ssseemsss like quite the charmer," Sersel notes. "I'd better be going. Jitty'sss downssstairsss and I have no idea what he'sss up to."
The nagaji rises and makes her way below deck as well.
Discerning his meaning at last, Harakhty was happy to learn a new phrase at first - tasteless or not. He was pleased to hear Skaar was aware of the threat of Horace - and willing to stop it best he could if push came to shove. "Thank you, Skaar," closed the Vanara. He walked to the side of the ship - not too far from where they were, but far enough to send the impression to most a conversation had ended. He looked out over the side, unaware of the crew behind him for the moment.
That slightly uplifting feeling was washed away before too long, however, as Harakhty pondered the implications of the Orc's claim. Supposing he had "piped" someone, who? The crew didn't have many women, and they'd been on the boat but a day. Did he know them from before? If so, why pretend the ship was new to him? Harakhty couldn't imagine one actually wanting to take him to her bed in the first place though; he wasn't exactly handsome, and given the size of the pouch he grabbed, Harakhty expected a night with Skaar to be much more pain than pleasure if the act were viable in the first place. From the Skaar's people to the North came often stories of brutal rapes; it was how most half-orcs were formed, after all. None of the crew had come forward with a story though, and nobody was said to be missing... yet. It was possible she was dead or blackmailed into silence.
It was also possible the Orc was making the story up, but his deep laugh seemed to be the one of someone authentically pleased with himself, so Harakhty dismissed that thread of thought. Glancing back at Skaar, he gave him a long look, perhaps returned by him, perhaps not. What dark secrets does he harbor? Gazelles under the watch of lions did not last long; he would have to get to the bottom of this - soon. This was why, he guessed, the church made him one of their agents - that insatiable curiosity was just the lever they needed to work Harakhty as one of their fingers. As long as their interests were aligned though, he was fine with that.
Moving down the side of the vessel, Harakhty thought he might kill two birds with one stone. The orange lookout from earlier would have sharp eyes - and hopefully sharper ears.
Skaar gave Harakhty a nod before departing himself.
At least he seemed less frightened of me that time.
Cyna found herself equally as suprised when both Sersel and Drago left just as quickly as they came. " Strange. But no use over thinking it. Drago seems nice. A little over the top and strange eyes but then again we all have our quirks" she thinks to herself running her tounge over her gum line feeling the protrusions of her second set of teeth. What Sersel had told her about jitty didn't bode well but the captain has taken care of himself thus far and so long as he doesn't let his guard down everything should be ok. She takes one last glance toward Sersel before she dissapears below deck and smiles. " She so kind, reminds me of "her" she muses remembering the kind old woman that first showed her Sarenrea's light nearly 30 years ago.
Miss Singers mind then wonders to the other travelers she's on board with. The Orc nearly the size of her steed Brimstone, skaar was his name could be heard laughing across the ship clearly pleased about something, but to what she had no idea. The way he watched people and not just anyone the other travelers was like an animal protecting it's young from predators. Quite an amusing thought on its own. He would prove invaluable in the trials that most certainly lie ahead. Then there was that "Dr." Her first impressions of him were... well he was prabably the strangest out of the 6 of them. Even more so because he was human, one would think he would be the normal one but the lot of them were all strange in there own way. Then there was the Vanaran who was keeping to himself mostly and the other two like him. He seemed nervous perhaps or apprehensive. Either way she didn't know what to make of him just yet. She would have to make a point of speaking with him at least once before the ship completed its journey. Lastly there was this Aurelea the only other woman besides herself on the expidition. Cyna thought she seemed focused on her work. A good trait for any adventurer, and something that would balance the more excitable members of the group. Another person Cyna would have to sit down with at some point and get a better read on.
The doc puts the cork back in the bottle, if not very tightly. He herkily-jerkily bids adieu to that person he was talking to and goes off to find company.
After completing her training regimen, Aurelea heads below-decks for a moment, taking the opportunity to cast a brief cantrip that scoured the previous day’s sweat and grime from her body and clothing, leaving both smelling lightly of jasmine.
Energized and refreshed, she takes advantage of an opportunity to get breakfast before joining the crew and her new companions on the deck, taking in the sea air and the dynamics of the crew.
The idea being that he's trying to keep himself sharp, show off for any other potentially interested bedmates that may be watching, and give Harakhty more confidence in him.
Aurelea returns from cleaning up and Stephen emerges from below, bottle in hand. Skaar issues a challenge to the crew for a wrestling contest. Zahira, the female half-orc, leans against a cannon with an amused grin. Rukkus approaches Skaar.
"Jeg utfordrer deg, men jeg vil gå lett på deg," the half-orc grunts. "Du skal kjøpe en øl når vi er i havn, ikke sant?"
Skaar answers with that low rumbling chuckle.
The big orc motions for those nearby to clear space for the bout.
"Oh, ho, ho! Sport! Competition! Where humanoids display their finest! Who's betting with me? The big guy's my escort, I have to bet on him, but I happen to know his left leg is weak and he's not as strong as he looks ..."
Hearing their resident madman making a rukus above deck, Drago's curiosity was peeked. Braving the bright sun once more, the Sorceror saw what the commotion was all about. Skaar was apparently getting restless and was looking for a competition. Well at least we'll get to see his prowess in a non-lethal setting. Drago then found a spot that he see best from while getting as much shade from the sun as possible.
Rukkus Lv. 6 Fighter
STR 18, DEX 16, CON 14
CMB = +10 (+6)
CMD = 20 (16)
Rukkus looks to Zahira. "Can you tie up my left arm? I don't wanna hurt the boy."
Zahira binds Rukkus' left arm behind him.
"Jeg skal la deg starte. Vis meg hva slags kriger du er," Rukkus says with a wide smile.
No one seems interested in taking Stephen up on his bet, mostly because they know Rukkus is doing this for fun...and a beer.
"And you, Rukkus, it is? Ha, one hand tied ...a showman, I see, a real trained expert. By the Gods above, this will be a match to see. May you be blessed, and as they say,
Stephen hears a low, growling whisper behind him. "I'm the only one who casts spells on this ship and, if you finish that spell, you're gonna spend the next hour picking your nose with the latrine's scrub brush."