The Ocean Tern is an large ocean-going carrack, three-masted with a smooth carvel-planked hull. She has an aftcastle at the stern surmounted by a poop deck, while forward sits the fo’c’sle from which projects a long bowsprit. The figurehead is of a white bird, wings swept back flush with the bow of the boat. Tied up at the dock in Dornas she looks most impressive, with the crew clambering about the rigging getting ready for departure.
Cedric is already aboard, his luggage stowed in his cabin. He stands by Captain Budd on deck by the gangway as she surveys preparations. Cedric smiles in greeting but Captain Budd gives them a beady look.
“Welcome aboard the Ocean Tern,” she says as the adventurers make their way up from the dockside, her gruff tones redolent of the northern lands of the Empire. “I’m Captain Budd," she says to those she hasn't met. "This is my First Mate, Jakson.” A tall swarthy man, his bare forearms a network of scars, stops yelling instructions to the crew for a moment, steps up and nods. “He’ll show you to your cabins so you can stow your gear. The tide’s just turning so we should be on our way shortly.”
She gives Walker and his barrels short shrift. "What's all this? There's no room for this on board. We're a working ship, this isn't a pleasure cruise," she barks. After protracted negotiations, it is stowed in the cargo hold, out of sight and inaccessible for the duration of the journey.
“If you’d like to follow me,” says Jakson in a deep voice, leading the group aft and to their cabins under the poop deck. The cabins are small, with just about enough room for a bed and a locker, although there seems to be one for each member of the party. “If you’ll be excusing me,” says Jakson, “I’m needed on deck. If you have any questions, ask the captain.” He smiles. “But maybe wait until we’re out of harbour first.”
On deck, a small ceremony is taking place. One of the crewmen, an older man with long white hair, skin like mahogany and with seemingly barely an ounce of fat on his rangey body, stands at the bow of the ship. In his hand he holds a brown glass bottle. The crew have paused in their work to look on, with Captain Budd watching from the helm. Cedric observes with keen interest at the rail.
“Lord of the Seas,” the sailor intones, “Bless us and protect us as we journey in your care. Hold back the storms, hide us from the creatures of the deep, and let us return to our homes safe.” He then pours a libation from the bottle into the sea.
“Very well done, Mr Ward,” calls the captain, “The tide has turned. Cast off!”
The outgoing tide pulls the ship away from the dockside. The captain orders some of the sails to be unfurled and the Ocean Tern begins to pull away, aided by both the wind and the current. Captain Budd skillfully pilots the ship between other traffic towards the portal in the great harbour wall of the port of Dornas. The wall is studded with towers, virtual castles in their own right, to protect the seaward approach to the capital of the Empire. On either side of the harbour mouth are the two Castles of the Chain, both of which house giant winching mechanisms to hoist the titular metal cable to block both ingress and egress in times of turmoil. However, in the absence of any threat the gateway is now open and the Ocean Tern sails between the forbidding walls and out into the open sea. Captain Budd orders full sail, and the ship turns starboard to face northwards.
Daenan makes sure to stow away most of his things to the best of his ability to make sure they stay put, though keeping himself fully equipped. Eventually he parks himself next to a railing near their ward, giving the young man his space but within view. For now the elf is content to amuse himself by watching the crew work and the open space of the sea after time in a crowded city.
Walker thanks the captain profusely for allowing him to store his spare materials on ship. He carefully oversees their placement in the hold, and grabs some spare flasks from his chest when no one is paying close attention, so as to have enough alcohol to survive the journey.
Later, during the old man's ceremony, he is very solemn. He stows his spare things in the locker in his cabin.
Rish is very quiet and very attentive as the party boards, nodding politely at the appropriate times, but specifically seeking to not draw attention to himself. After stowing his gear, he returns to the deck unarmed and unarmored.
He walks to their charge for the next few months. If the young man is open to it, he will engage him in general conversation about the weather, about the journey, about whatever he wants to discuss. The intent is to be close at hand and to make Cedric comfortable with that situation as early in the voyage as possible.
He knows the rest of the party are watching, but he looks around at their sailing companions, also.
Cyriphrain boards and stows his gear with the practiced ease of a campaigner. While the cabin is small and sparse, he appreciates the privacy.
Unarmored, he climbs to the deck in time to catch the ceremony. He watches with a carefully neutral expression, offering no endorsement or condemnation. As the crew gets underway, he takes a few moments to ascertain the location of their young charge and his companions.
Doing his best to stay out of the crew's way, he will find each of his companions in turn and suggest the following: "Whenever he is not in his cabin, we should make sure that at least one of us has eyes on young Cedric."
Ujarak follows Jakson and the others below decks, maneuvering his spears and longbow handily in the cramped quarters. Before Jakson takes his leave, Ujarak asks him for a quiet word at his convenience.
In his cabin he quickly sheds his heavy pack, weapons, and mail. Proper unpacking can wait until later. He returns to deck armed only with a dagger.
On his return, he keeps an eye out for the others, to keep them out of the path of the crew. "The captain has few ship rules, but one of them is keep out of the crew's way, and I suggest staying well away from the weather -- upwind -- rail of the poop deck. That's customarily the captain's or watch officer's domain."
During the ceremony his hand drifts to his chest to clasp the carved ivory tooth beneath his shirt. He breathes out as the libation is poured and quietly whispers, "good fortune to us all" as the Captain commends Ward.
When Cyriphrain approaches him, Ujarak nods in agreement. "Good idea. I doubt there will be trouble aboard, but we should establish the pattern now. Someone will always be with him."
Otherwise Ujarak finds a quiet patch on the weather rail of the main deck where he can shift fore and aft to avoid the crew while watching them and the passing scenery.
When the ship clears the breakwater, his hand again strays to his chest.
The day passes swiftly and the captain is too busy to have time for her guests. The coast diminishes in the distance until it is replaced by grey choppy ocean and a blue sky crossed with swiftly scurrying fluffy white clouds. The breeze is strong and cool, filling the bulging sails, and the Ocean Tern cuts through the waves swiftly. The crew are busy and after a while there is little to do beyond watching them at work, or the horizon, or the other ships. Close to Dornos there are other vessels in the vicinity – mostly merchantmen, plus the odd war galleon – coming from or heading towards the capital. Dornos sits at the south end of Sativsen Gulf, a wide bay several hundred miles across. The Tern’s course will cut across its open mouth northwards for several days before reaching Point Niematt, a rocky and remote promontory otherwise undistinguished except as the most westerly point of the mainland Empire. From there the ship’s course is north-west, into the open ocean.
As the sunlight fails, the captain invites her passengers to dine with her in her quarters. She is joined by Jakson and Ward, who is the Second Mate. The ship's cook serves a passable meal of boiled meat and greens. The captain is mostly silent, subjecting her guests to a penetrating stare as she assesses them. Cedric mostly toys with his food and makes small talk where he must. Ward is quite talkative, regaling his audience with tales of his extensive voyages.
Walker listens with interest to Ward's tales, and tries to avoid angering the captain.
Through dinner, Cyriphrain is on his best behavior, meeting the captain's intense glare with an ever-so-slight lowering of his own eyes - welcoming her read, acknowledging her supremacy on board her ship. He engages easily with Ward, swapping campaign stories for voyages - but always with a "With the captain's permission", or a "By your leave, ma'am," - Paying deference and acknowledging her, but not requiring her active response. As the meal ends, he leads a solemn but perfunctory toast to the Empire and its sovereign, then one to the captain.
Rish stays with Cedric through the day, in companionable silence if that’s the young man’s preference, but open to discussions, especially about depictions of the natural world.
At the dinner, his comments are limited to polite gratitude or responding to questions; he’s not comfortable enough to try and drive a conversation, especially with the reputation of the captain. He’d rather be seen and rarely heard until he has the lay of the land, so to speak.
Aside from a brief sojourn below to unpack his belongings and grab his cloak against the breeze, Ujarak spends the day on deck, clearly enjoying the weather and setting.
At dinner Ujarak puts on his social face. He tries hard not to seem intimidated by Captain Budd, after all she's no more fearsome than Captain Berrycloth was, and Ujarak is grown now, not a mere boy. Besides, one should never seem glum when invited to the Captain's table, unless the Captain desires otherwise.
Unwilling for his side to make a poor showing, Ujarak trades one sea story for every ten of Ward's. That seems about the right ratio given their disparity of experience.
His best tale is from his days as a cabin boy when the ship's cook convinced a seaman to culture cheese -- in the stomach of a live goat. The victim traded his rum ration to the cook in return for a portion of milk which he then fed back to the goat. Although the goat never produced cheese, everyone won. The cook had an extra tot of rum each day. Sober, the seaman was promoted. The goat was extraordinarily healthy and fat, which pleased the crew when the goat was had for dinner.
Darnan is for the most part silent during the meal, participating when addressed but not much more than that. He is keeping an eye on the captain trying to decide what he thinks about her measuring the group. The elf isn't too worried about the possible implications but enough to grasp his attention. There is ever so slight hint of annoyance in his expression at Cyriphrain toast, but is polite enough to keep it to himself and raise his glass all the same.
At one point in the evening Cedric asks Ward about the Isles and what he might expect.
Ward squints at his rum as he considers his words. "They're a strange place, the Isles. They worshipped a dragon, in the days before the Empire, and the locals said it could call wind and ice out from nowhere to assail you, or surround you with chill fog and hunt you like cat in the dark. The fleet that finally killed the creature barely made it through. It was more by luck than anything else they killed the beast - a fluke shot - or else all of them would have gone to the botton. Or down the dragon's gullet." Cedric listens to Ward with renewed interest as he talks about his forebear's deeds.
The old man continues, "When you are out on the sea, the Empire seems a long way away. The reverends will tell you that the Old Gods are just a figment, tales for children or old salts like me. But you learn to doubt less and trust more in what you are seeing out here. I've seen some things you wouldn't believe, sometimes I don't believe. So it seems to me sensible to keep an open mind and hedge your bets, if you get me - the world is a big place, and there's plenty of room for the Old Gods as well as the Empire.
"I'll tell you this too. The Isles aren't a place for folk from the Empire. Around the Isles, the seas are higher, the storms are fiercer than other places. They are surrounded by shoals like the teeth of a shark." His voice drops. "Some say the ghost of the dragon watches over the place, summoning terrible storms to send poor sailors to their doom, or just to vent its dreadful wrath."
"People tell all sorts of tall tales when they've had a few to drink," says the Captain dryly.
"Aye, Captain, that they do!" says Ward with a gap-toothed grin, grabbing the bottle of rum from the table to refill his mug, "And don't mind if I do!" Jakson laughs and the mood lightens again.
Rish can’t help but smile slightly at the second mate’s antics. He certainly can not argue with his philosophy about the Old Gods...
Jakson snorts, "Most of your stories just float up from the bottom of your cup!" Ward cackles at this, and the Captan smirks. Jakson continues, "Tell 'em that tale about when a sea nymph tried to get her wicked way! Until I heard this one, I didn't realise that sea nymphs were blind as well as having designs on mortal men!"
"I was much younger then!" protests Ward, and then launches into another unlikely tale.
The evening ends convivially. The days and nights onboard take on a rhythm. Cedric sketches on the deck while the others spar or find some other way to amuse themselves, and most evenings they dine with the Captain. On the fifth day, the lookout in the crowsnest shouts out that he has sighted Point Niematt and the Captain adjusts course, turning north-west. The Tern continues to scythe through the waves for a week longer.
A few days out from the Isles, a huge brown gull lands on the rail of the for'c'stle. A few of the sailors try to chase it away but it either takes flight for a moment, settling back a few feet away, or lashes out with its dagger-like beak. In the end the crew leave it to its own devices.
"Allam gull," grunts Mister Ward, "Nasty creatures, vicious. Shouldn't kill 'em, mind - they might be messengers of the sea gods."
The gull parades along the rail in an arrogantly proprietorial fashion, eyeing the crew individually. It hops down to the main deck and does the same, and then up to the poop deck at the stern of the ship. Finally satisfied, with a shriek it suddenly takes wing and flaps away.
The weather hitherto has been reasonable, the winds fair and the ocean rolling but not hostile. But a few hours later the southern horizon darkens and the wind picks up. The gentle sway of the ship now becomes more stomach-churning, the Tern's prow lurching upwards before dipping heavily down again. The waves begin to crash on the ship's hull, making her roll and throwing spray across the deck. Black clouds taller than mountains march closer.
"There's a big storm coming," says Mister Jakson to the passengers, "Best to go below decks."
Daenan looks at clouds with a grave expression on his face. "If it gets bad enough, send for help and you will receive." He notes to Jackson before following the instructions. The elf makes sure their ward is safe before going to his own cabin. Once there he starts gathering his things so in the worst case scenario he can simply grap them and move. Daenan even removes his armor for the first time outside of sleeping.
"If it gets bad enough, send for help and you will receive."
Seeing that Daenan has Cedric in hand, Cyrphrain returns to his berth, meditating as well as he can with the motion of the storm-tossed ship.
Rish spends time watching the young man sketch, fascinated at his skill and careful not to interrupt, but offering words of encouragement when the artist takes a break.
The Allam gull offers them both a brief change and they study the bird as it makes its inspection.
Receiving the suggestion to go below decks, Rish considers the tiny quarters and realizes Cedric would be unlikely to do any sketching right now. ”For purely selfish reasons, I would stay near to watch you work, but the rooms are probably too small for that. We are paid to be paranoid on your behalf, so I have to point out - if we face a threat on board, a storm is a good time for them to make a move. Lock your cabin door and don’t open it. If things are serious enough that we must go topside, one of us will come to you. If someone else wants in, have them get one of us first. See you after the blow.”
He heads to his cabin and makes sure his gear is readily available in case he has to grab it and go.
Ujarak spends most of his days on deck, watching the horizon, watching the crew, sparring if anyone will have a match. He takes his turns cheerfully with Cedric. Like Rish, the Allam islander enjoys watching the young man work, and Ujarak tries to draw him into conversation and encourage him to be more social... "You've social status which can get you an invitation to table at any of the great houses in the empire, but at sea the captain rules like a suzerain. It's as much an honor to be invited to the captain's meal as if your father invited us to eat with him."
Evenings when they don't dine with the captain, Ujarak spends on the foc'sle with the men before the mast, and he encourages the others to come forward too. There, he's a little more free with his stories than in the captain's presence.
And he asks Jakson, or failing him, Ward, to teach him navigation... "I couldn't pass beyond quartermaster because I could never get my sightings and math right."
Walker, upon returning belowdecks, prepares his things for a hasty escape, if need be. He makes an inventory of the items in his bandoliers, ensuring that he has what he needs in the event of disaster.
"There's a big storm coming. Best to go below decks."
"Sir, if I can help in any way, please ask."
If Jakson doesn't take him up on it, Ujarak follows the others below. Although he thinks it highly unlikely that it will be needed. He packs some essential items and mail in his backpack, then lays it on his bunk on top of his unstrung bow.
That done, he steps into the companionway and moves down to Cedric's cabin. "Be easy, master Cedric. The storm may be uncomfortable, but is unlikely to be a real danger. The ship is well-founded; the captain, officers, and crew all know their business."
"No need to worry, the Tern's been through worse," says Jakson.
The wind gets stronger and drives white-capped waves across the sea. The captain orders all the hatches to be securely fastened to prevent swamping, for the sails reefed to reduce the chance of a mast being lost or the ship capsized, and for heavy lines to be run out the back of the ship to slow her further. She then turns the ship into the storm so the bow, the strongest part of the ship, meets the force of the waves. The captain stays at the wheel, shouting instructions and steering the ship through the gales.
The storm blows for hours on end, day turning into night and with no sign of stopping. The swell tosses the ship like a toy, the wind roaring like an angry beast. Below decks anything not secured, including passengers, is thrown about.
In the companionway Cedric replies to Ujarak while clinging to the doorframe of his cabin, "I suppose you can't go sailing in the Northern Ocean and expect to avoid storms," he says, his voice tight with false bravado.
Walker feels the edge of seasickness, but manages to keep his meals down and head & legs about him. Occasionally he looks out the porthole, only to see the rage of the sea.
Though his meditations are threatened by the occasional intestinal gurgle, Cyriphrain manages to keep his last meal in place...
Ujarak braces himself across the companionway, glad that his last meal is staying down. A span of years before the mast were no guarantee against sea sickness. He smiles and nods approval at the young artist.
"Aye, and you'll have a story to trade with your friends at comfortable dinners at home. Mark Ward's words after this blow. He might toss this off as nothing special, or he might frame it in a way very helpful for those future dinners."
Cedric smiles. "Yes, I suppose so. I slightly regret not being on deck, though. This would be a splendid subject to study, but not at the risk of being swept overboard."
While Daenan's body isn't that troubled by the sea, his mood is another story. Judging by the muffled sounds coming from his cabin one could get crash course in profanities on more than language as the elf tries to keep his belongings from crashing about.
Kaerishidlon rather enjoys the motion of the sea once he has successfully ‘battened down’ his possessions so nothing flies across the berth to strike him. He closes his eyes and imagines what it would be like to take the shape of one of the ocean’s great predators. How do they handle weather and waves like this?
The storm continues to roar for the whole day. With the dark skies it is hard to tell, but the sun rises, crosses the sky and sinks again, all unseen, and the night comes on again even as the wind howls on and the ship bucks in the grip of the churning sea. The constant violent motion makes it hard to sleep and soon both passengers and crew are very fatigued. The sailors grab rest when they can, but most are required to man their stations with hardly any respite. The captain maintains her vigil at the helm, facing the Tern into the waves to prevent her from being overwhelmed. But even with her skillful helmsmanship the battering takes its toll on the hull, the power of the waves smashing into the timbers dislodging a few and causing leaks. Led by Jakson and the ship’s carpenter, many of the crew are fully occupied in bracing the hull planks, pushing them back into position to stem of influx of seawater and hammering oakum into the seams to create a water-tight seal. But as soon as they succeed with one they have to move on to others. Other sailors man the pumps, expelling the deepening water that sloshes at the bottom of the ship. Extra measures are taken to stop the cargo coming free, as its unrestricted rolling about inside the hold could amplify the effects of the waves and cause to a capsize. Too much shipped water could do the same.
But as darkness falls on the second day of the storm, the winds finally calm slightly. The ship is pummelled less and the noise of the elements quietens a little. The improvement is enough for the captain to decide that it is safe enough to turn about and make way towards the Isles under reduced sail. She retires to her cabin, although her lantern remains on as she plots the ship’s position after all the turmoil rather than rest. An exhausted Jakson comes past the passengers’ berths and pats the Tern’s timbers. “She’s a tough old tub, this one.” Except for those manning the pumps or engaged in routine tasks, the tired crew flop into their hammocks.
Daenan has made his way to the deck, sitting down leaning against the main mast, figuring there he wouldn't be in the crews way. Though the main reason he came out was out of courtesy as the herbs he is mixing give off a rather potent smell. At the moment he has the ingredients inside folded cloth and he is hammering them into fine powder.
Walker, not being a sailor himself, stayed in his room and out of the way of the sailors. This didn't stop him from opening his door and looking down the passageways to the left and right to see what is going on, occasionally chatting with the passenger to his left or right.
Kaerishidlon remained in his berth save the occasional conversation with a neighbor, a la Walker. Now that things have calmed, he debates going topside, but decides sleep is the wiser choice. After checking in with Cedric to make sure all is well with the lad, he returns to his bunk.
As the storm lessens, Ujarak returns to his cabin to try to catch up on sleep. But finding no comfort in his bunk, he straightens his cabin.
He responds to Jakson's announcement with compliments on the ship's integrity. Then he gladly ascends the ladders to the deck. If laid in a balance, it may not outweigh the prior travail, but the sea after a storm is one of Ujarak's favorite moments at sea. The deck has a comfortable motion as he walks about, steering clear of the active crew members. The breeze is as fresh as dawn. The horizon obscured sun still lights the peaks of the thunderheads trailing away to the northeast.
Laying his hand on his chest he murmurs, "This is good. Thank you, Anori Aput."
Cyriphrain rides out the storm in his cabin. meditating and tending to his armor. At one point, he has just fished out his whetstone to see to the edge of his longsword when a particularly violent swell sends he and his things crashing about the room - and decides that all of his sharp objects should stay safely sheathed for the time being...
The Tern sails on through the night. The clouds obscure the stars and the moon and, other than a few lanterns onboard the ship, it is pitch black and virtually nothing can be seen past the rail. The wind is strong, although the rain has largely stopped. A few hours before dawn a voice from the crow's nest calls out, "Light off the starboard bow!" To the north a beam pulses rhythmically.
The Captain steps on to the deck. "The Dragon Point Light," she declares, and gives instructions to turn north towards it.
For an hour the Tern follows her new course. The Captain stands behind the helmsman, clearly tired from her ordeal of the last few days. The ship begins to shake slightly. Then Jakson approaches her, looking worried.
"Captain, we're caught in a strong current. That shouldn't happen around Dragon Point."
The Captain frowns. She pulls her spyglass out of her coat pocket and looks at the light. Then she curses and at the same time the shout comes from the lookout, "The lights gone!"
The Captain closes her spyglass with a snap. "Prophet! It must be wreckers."
"But there's never been wreckers in the Isles," protests Jakson.
"Well there are now!" she replies. "We must be in Seeker's Shoals heading north towards Saupa Strait."
"And the rocks!"
"I know. Helmsman, turn her about! Everyone, full sail! Full sail now!"
But it is too late. The ship suddenly lurches, the deck pitching violently. With a scream the sailor in the crow's nest plunges from the top of the main mast and two others tumble into the sea. Timbers tear asunder and water gushes in thunderously as the rocks lurking under the surface tear a gash along the hull.
Daenan manages to pull out the blade on his hip slamming it against the boards of the deck and holding on for dear life. Once the thrashing about eases enough for him to get to his feet he starts full on sprint towards the cabins yelling at the top his lungs. "Get Cedric up!"
Walker wakes with a start, and upon opening his door sees water flowing down the passageway at an increasingly worrisome pace. He gathers his things and moves topside, keeping a firm grip on anything he can towards the center of the ship.
Rish awakens, unsure of what roused him, just before the impact. Once the initial shock has worn off, he is out of his bunk and shrugging into his still-readied pack, headed for Cedric’s quarters.as he moves.
Ujarak grabs for the ratlines to keep from first spilling overboard, then being thrown across deck by the recoil. Almost instinctively he looks to the poop deck, listening for commands. Then he remembers his charge and hurries below deck to check Cedric and then gather his things.
"Rish! Is Cedric all right?"