Armanus looks around the crowded room. No apparent windows. Rough living for days on end. This CERTAINLY is the romanticized version of 'travelling the world'. Dismayed, the tiefling tries to find a comfortable place to call his own for the voyage.
Zyrel sets his bag and coat against a corner, removes his enormous sword, his spear and his spear, and sits comfortably on the backpack, which doubles as a makeshift chair. "What is the estimated time until we reach our destination?" he inquires methodically "In the event of seaborne raiders, how will warning be given, and how much warning are we likely to have? Does anyone else have legitimate access to the hold beyond yourself, the captain, and our group? Are there other exits? In the event of a fire, what warning will be issued and what process do we need to follow? Is there a doctor onboard? Are we allowed to come and go? Are we allowed to eat, drink and have a chamberpot in this room..." Zyrel does his best to keep his tone polite, but the exhaustive list of follow up questions borders on the patronising.
"I like it! We get to make the cargo extra-secure!"
Once Utta is gone, Kristleifur finds a quiet corner of the room to put his own belongings. And then turns to the others.
"So. Ten lockboxes. So where's number fourteen? Is there a fourteen?"
Erick puts a finger over his lips when Kristleifur speaks. "We'll have time to look once at sea." He whispers, and then points to the ceiling and walls. "Walls may have ears, will be noisier when we're at sea, easier to talk, until then, let's keep quiet."
Kristleifur nods, grins, and mimes zipping his mouth.
Armanus's estimation of the cavalier begins to grow.
Clearly this human Erick is wise. I could learn from him.
Elsa finds a quiet nook, and settles down.
After about two minutes, Kristleifur turns to Armanus:
"I wonder if the food will be as good as on that last ship we were on. The fish had such small eyes compared to the blind ones in the Darkland lakes!"
Armanus gulped in disgust. "Yes..it was one of many topics you did prattle on about during the voyage here."
"In my experience, ship food tends to vary depending on if you are passengers or crew. Passengers get the tasty stuff, crew gets food that keeps you alive, and is cheap, but tastes like kitchen dregs."
Kristleifur does not seem to notice Armanus' disgust. Not that he ever seemed to.
"Oh yes! Huge eyes that saw nothing! Not very tasty either. I completely understand why so many gnomes stayed up here, it's *far* more interesting! And with tastier food! And fewer dwarves and reptiles!"
Zyrel pulls a few berries, a sparse handful of nuts, and some sort of thin cracker out of his bag. "I have my own food. I have been out in the world before, so I have some idea what passes for 'food' out here."
"Oh I have my own food too! But I'm enjoying trying out all these surface dishes too much to dig into my rations."
Utta nods at Zyrel, ”It’ll be three days at sea. I suppose if there’s raiders we’ll let you know.” She goes on trying to answer Zyrel’s barrage of questions before she sighs and says, ”You’ll have to ask the captain or the first mate. I’ll see you all at dinner.” A slight commotion comes up on deck. The ship lurches, and a gentle rocking begins. The next few hours are thoroughly uneventful. Around seven, a bell can be heard sounding abovedecks.
"So, food in shifts?"
Kristleifur says hopefully.
"Yeah, half now, half later. I'll go later." Erick responds easily. "Kristleifur, why don't you, Elsa, and Zyrel go first." He tries to pick the ones who seem the most impatient to let go first.
"I'll get my spotter some food, and come straight back." Zyrel decides. "I've no desire to eat half-cooked fish raised in the effluent of Absalom. Thank you anyway."
"Still talking sense, Erick.", Kristleifur says with a wink. He cheerily puts his musket over his shoulders and starts walking towards the door, whistling.
At Zyrel's words, he doesn't turn but speaks up as he nears the door:
"You're missing out!"
Elsa gets up and follows
Food sounds good. And no one eats fish straight out of the harbour here, Zyrel, unless they have a deathwish
She winces at the sound Kristlefur emits.
Starry Desna's precious ears, are you in pain. If you aren't, stop making that sound. Please
Kristleifur stops, clearly confused.
"Huh? I'm fine! About to get fed! So, what do halflings like eating then?"
He is sufficiently distracted that he has forgotten to keep whistling.
The group heads up to the galley. The sailors are assembled at a few tables. A few chefs bustle about in a kitchen behind an open window and a large stack of bowls and plates stands next to it.
Kristleifur walks straight to the open window, likely having to look up at it.
"Grub please!"
oh, we like blood puddings, spotted dick and toad in the hole. And curry, of course. Unlikely to get that here though. Probably hard tack and bully beef. Maybe kippers. Or stew. Meat stew. What sort of meat? If you can ask that, you're not hungry Elsa says with a smile.
As the hold turns silent, Erick smiles. "Ah... quiet..." With less distractions, he does a quick reconnoiter around the hold.
The small group heads into the galley. The crewmembers sit at several large tables. Utta and another chef bustle about behind a large open window, a wooden counter in front of it. Tin plates and bowls are stacked at one end. There is a basket full of bread and a large pot of stew.
Studying the hold a bit closer, Erick notices something strange around the lockboxes. There seems to be a slight discrepancy in the construction of the ship. There is a bit too much space between the wall of the cargo hold and the outer wall of the ship. A slight seam also runs along the edge of of the lockboxes.
Erick makes a note of it mentally, but doesn't draw attention to it now. This is something that can wait until late in the night with everyone else here as well.
Satisfied he may have solved the riddle of the lockbox 14, at least it's location, he relaxes on the pile of ropes, where he's laid out his blanket.
Then, thinking better of it, he stands up, and motions to his two new companions. "Hey, you two, give me a hand with this." He thumps his breastplate. "Might as well get comfortable for dinner."
As the two are helping him take the armor off, he whispers quietly to them between bouts of vetching about the armor. "Found fourteen, don't go looking, in case there's someone watching. I'll explain after dinner."
Once that is done, and the armor is off, he takes out a kit and begins to polish the armor. Even with the armor off, he makes light metallic sounds as he moves, as if he had something metallic on under his silk shirt.
Zyrel heads to the deck. There he moves to the prow and stands for a moment, looking out at the city.
He stands there for a few minutes, then abruptly raises his arm just in time for a short-eared owl to alight.
A minute later Zyrel is back at the hold. Though he moves quickly his feet are all but silent, and his long ears twitched as he listens in the quiet for errant breathing.
"I am back." he announces, just before he crosses the threshold. He once again moves to his bag-stool, sets the owl on a lantern-peg, and pulls out his meagre rations once again.
Kristleifur listens intently to Elsa's listing of foodstuffs.
"I'd love to try them! The variety is great up here! Back home, it's all 'mushroom this' and 'cave beast that'."
He looks around.
"Let's find us some seats!"
Having never put on armor, Armanus clumsily helps remove the human's armor. Hearing the whisper, the tiefling subtly nods.
Zyrel raises an eyebrow, but does as bid and stays silent. He assists with the armour with the practiced ease of an experienced soldier, and hands over an elegant wire brush when Erick starts to polish.
Erick grunts and accepts the brush. "Thanks."
When Elsa and Kristleifur return from dinner, he shrugs on his armored duster, leaving his armor next to his makeshift bed. He leans down to speak to the two shorter companions. "I hope you two had a good dinner, maybe some wine and candlelight."
After that, he whispers to them. "Don't look for 14, found it, talk after dinner."
He then goes up and gets something to eat, making sure his food comes from the same pots/sources as the other crew are eating from. He wolfs his food down, being polite to anyone who talks to him, but then heads back down as fast as possible.
Kristleifur chuckles at Erick's comment.
"Oh, loads! You'll be wowed!"
And then quietly:
"Got it. Talk soon then."
He then looks around, trying to see if anything has been moved or changed in the room.
Armanus leaves the hold to partake in the communal meal. Some of the other sailors give sideways glances and speak to others behind hands as the tiefling passes. This, of course, is nothing new. After he received his plate of food, the sorcerer finds an empty seat and concentrates as he consumes the sub-standard fare.
Upon returning to the hold, Erick gives a loud cough to get everyone's attention. "OK, so, I know most of you people are new to the business. So unless there's an objection, I'll play school marm and give the basics on how it's done." He says loudly enough to carry to everyone in the hold, as well as to anyone listening in. He also doesn't slow down to allow objections.
"The problem with being a guard is, you have to be guarding something worth stealing, which means people will be coming after it. Obviously, otherwise nobody would pay you to guard it. Nobody pays people to guard dust on the side of the road. Now, the first lesson of being a guard is to assume everyone is coming after what you're guarding, even when it's not likely. Take the crew for example, it's not likely any of them are after the cargo, given it's their ship and they're paid to take it from point A to point B. But, as guards, we don't get paid to make assumptions that everything is safe. So we plan as if everything isn't safe. You get into the habit of doing that when you're pretty safe, and then you're in the habit of doing it when you aren't safe, which makes you safer than you would have been when you gank it up and think you're in a safe situation when you aren't." He grins. "At least, that's the theory my old Knight Master taught me. And it kept him alive in a dangerous business. So, everyone gather around here, and we plan out in whispers. Not because we need to, but so we get in the habit of doing it when we do need to."
He motions them all around a crate and assuming they all get together, he leans his head in and whispers. "Sorry for being bossy, but figure if we are being sold a crock of shite instead of a crock of stew, we'd be better off if they think we're mostly greenhorns, you're safer with people underestimating you. Anyway, the ship is mis-built, there's a hidden compartment on the side, next to the lockers. No doubt the extra four or more lockers, including 14, are there. I suggest we work in 3 shifts, a morning shift, an evening shift, and a graveyard shift. The important shift for us now is the graveyard shift, 9 at night to 5 in the morning. Darkest part of the night. I suggest Armanus and Kristleifur, given they can both see in the dark, and Kristleifur has said he's good with locks and traps. See if you can get into #14 at 2 AM or so, while the ship's asleep. If it's something that is immediately threatening to us, wake us up. If not, we can go over it at shift change at 5AM. I also suggest those of us on the daylight shifts gather food for the others, and eat on our shifts. That way if someone poisons our food, only 2 of us will get hit initially, and hopefully the others will notice by the time it's their breakfast or whatever." He continues to whisper. "What do you think?"
"Good plan" whispers Zyrel in a voice so soft as to be all but inaudible. "I'll eat my own food though, as it is safer. If you need extra people on shifts I can go a few days without sleep. Also;
Kristleifur; I normally carry some small files and woodworking tools with me - if those will be helpful."
The tiefling glances over at the annoying svirfneblin, then looks back at Erick and mutters, "..fine."
The two groups eat their dinner. While nothing fancy, it is certainly better than one might expect for ship’s food. Nothing seems out of place upon the return to the hold.
Thirrion half listens to Erick as he gives his speech.
That's all well and good. Long as we don't get caught rummaging around their secrets. Though, can't say I'm not curious as well.
Kristleifur nods along to Erick's speech then gets keenly interested once whispering begins.
Whispering back:
"I like it! Zyrel, some wood-working tools could be very handy for getting into the compartment without smashing the place to bits. Alchemy and locks are more my thing but I can use tools fine. The actual lock should be the easy part. Speaking of shifts, this mystery might not end with opening the lockbox. I'm thinking that one or more of us might start gathering some information from the rest of the ship. See what the captain knows. I can be really, really quiet when I have to be so I can do that. Maybe someone else talk to them, try to bamboozle some words out?"
Erick nods. "Need to know what we're dealing with first, though. So we know what to ask about, or not ask about." He whispers back.
Elsa keeps quiet and listens. For a grumpy bigun, he seems to know his stuff, but he really wasn't teaching anything new. Life in the slums was much like that. But he was being paranoid about the food, right?
Elsa suddenly got a bit worried.
Upon closer inspection of the lockboxes, one in particular stands out. Lockbox three, the middle lockbox on the top row, has a few scratches on the front. The locks on all of the boxes are fairly simple, requiring either a key or some semi-precise lockpicking.
Kristleifur fiddles with his clothing, and pulls out a very thin set of finely made tools.
Very quietly he says:
"Whenever you want that popped, let me know."
Though it is clear that his curiosity is growing.
Zyrel looks uneasily at the Svirfneblin having such tools to hand, but says nothing.
The night passes uneventfully, and 2 AM rolls around.