"I'll have to check with the captain, but berths cost 50 gp each," says the sailor.
Karshe considers his meager coin. "Can I work for my passage?"
Karshe considers his meager coin. "Can I work for my passage?"
"That's certainly possible," says the sailor. "Go introduce yourself to the Boatswain, he can figure something out for your work."
10 charges each. You should have about 1,000 gp each.
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" While I am unfamiliar with standard passage rates, 50 sounds fair."
She will pay and the possibly be dismayed by her sleeping arrangements.
10 charges each. You should have about 1,000 gp each.
" Thanks. I'll see the bosun then." Karsh'e trots toward the forecastle to the accompaniment of barely muffled banging pots.
"I'm to see the bosun about working for my passage. What can I do?"
" Thanks. I'll see the bosun then." Karsh'e trots toward the forecastle to the accompaniment of barely muffled banging pots.
"I'm to see the bosun about working for my passage. What can I do?"
"Well, for starters, you can swab down the deck," says the bosun. "Call me Mister Greene."
"Aye, aye, Mr. Greene" Sailors are always saying aye aye in the stories that Karsh'e has heard. "Ahh, where's the bucket and mop? And where can I get water?"
"I don't need a bed. Just somewhere to stand." Lambda says to the sailor, after Karsh'e leaves. "Is there a fee to just stand around on the deck?"
Escher has the coin, but keeping busy would help pass the time. He'll also go to the Bosun, "I'd also like to work. I'm very skilled at mending things, if that's something that could help out."
Lia will find a sunny spot to sit and watch the waves and workers buzz about.
"Aye, aye, Mr. Greene" Sailors are always saying aye aye in the stories that Karsh'e has heard. "Ahh, where's the bucket and mop? And where can I get water?"
"There is a bucket right here," said Mr. Greene. He presents you with a bucket. "And water can be fetched from one of the barrels set aside for swabbing down the deck."
Escher has the coin, but keeping busy would help pass the time. He'll also go to the Bosun, "I'd also like to work. I'm very skilled at mending things, if that's something that could help out."
"You can mend some of the sails," says Mr. Greene. "Just to be safe, we have replacement sails in case we get into a hurricane."
Lia will find a sunny spot to sit and watch the waves and workers buzz about.
"Lia, may I join you in the sun? I would probably not do well trying to mop things, and the family would probably have some issues with me working for passage."
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"Please. The paid passage areas seem to be mostly empty." She gives what actually might be a genuine smile.
Beren silently counts out fifty gold coins and goes to indulge in thoughts about the meaning of life, or rather its meaninglessness.
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A sailor approaches Beren. "Are you a philosopher?"
Equipped with mop, bucket, and water, Karsh'e is soon enthusiastically swabbing the deck.
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Yes, it is, Beren thought. We are all philosophers. We are all trying to understand the meaning of existence in order to find some kind of consolation for our endless suffering in this understanding. This is the meaning of religion, philosophy and other nonsense that we live in. But out loud he just says, no kid, I'm just a veteran who's looking for peace after everything he's seen.
Yes, it is, Beren thought. We are all philosophers. We are all trying to understand the meaning of existence in order to find some kind of consolation for our endless suffering in this understanding. This is the meaning of religion, philosophy and other nonsense that we live in. But out loud he just says, no kid, I'm just a veteran who's looking for peace after everything he's seen.
"I hope you find the peace you're looking for," says the sailor.
Equipped with mop, bucket, and water, Karsh'e is soon enthusiastically swabbing the deck.
The Boatswain looks on with approval.
Karsh'e finishes the foc's'le deck. Changes the water and moves down to the main deck.
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Assuming everyone is on board, the sailors hoist the main sail and the ship is untied, with the gangplank retracted. The anchor is pulled up and the ship goes underway.
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Karsh'e finishes the main deck just before the ship clears the harbor breakwater. He's walking his bucket to the rail to pitch the dirty water over, when the ship crests the first big swell. The bow pitches downward and the half-orc staggers and falls to one knee. The dirty water splashes out and rolls across the clean deck.
Karsh'e finishes the main deck just before the ship clears the harbor breakwater. He's walking his bucket to the rail to pitch the dirty water over, when the ship crests the first big swell. The bow pitches downward and the half-orc staggers and falls to one knee. The dirty water splashes out and rolls across the clean deck.
The Boatswain goes to Karsh'e. "Wipe up this mess!" he orders.
"Aye, aye, Mr. Greene!" Karsh'e's tone is less cheerful than before. Karsh'e fetches another bucket of clean water and goes to work. While he swabs he thinks about meeting Mr. Greene, in the galley, with a belaying pin.
Lia enjoys a drink while watching the first show of the voyage.
Beren smokes and looks inside himself... He just doesn't notice this scene.
Lambda finds a convenient railing or other handhold to steady itself in the swells.
Lambda finds a convenient railing or other handhold to steady itself in the swells.
It doesn't take much to keep steady, you find.
After an hour or so Lia can't stand it anymore.
"Beren. Are you just going to stand there being introspective the entire journey?"
Lia, what do you suggest I do while we're sailing?
Lia, what do you suggest I do while we're sailing?
"I imagine we could each fascinate each other if we tried, so let's try. I know nothing of firearms, and I admit, I am intrigued."
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"That's a lovely idea! Why not teach us the basics?"
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Karsh'e looks across the deck where the more well-heeled members of the party are settling in. He resolves to have more money some day.
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I don't know anything about "fire-arms" either. Is it something like Burning Hands? I've heard of such a spell from magicians.
Beren lights a new cigarette and takes out his multi-shot crossbow from under the hem of his long doublet. It looks like a regular heavy crossbow, but with a drum that quickly changes bolts while automatically pulling the string.
The pinnacle of technical thought, which never entered mass production during the war. Firstly, it is expensive. Secondly, as we know, the war ended extremely unexpectedly - did not have time... Five bolts, one by one. Before you need to recharge, most of the enemies will already be dead. The basics are like everywhere else. You aim at the target and pull the trigger. Then repeat it. Repeat. Repeat... Well, you get it.
He puts the crossbow back.
Tell me about yourself. The journey is long and dangerous, probably we should get to know each other.
Meaningless but pleasant chatter in the company of doomed desperate heads moving at double speed towards the inevitable. Moments of warmth that will dissolve into the cold and darkness of pain and loss, which basically make up our lives...
Beren is distracted for a moment when he listens to the answers of his comrades as he goes deep into his thoughts, but a new coughing fit after another puff brings him back to reality.
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"My apologies. I thought you were the bearer of a new type of weapon. Although this IS quite fascinating."
After the demonstration and Beren's words Lia waits to see if anyone else speaks up. When no one does she starts.
"Well, I was raised in the temple. I would say it was mostly a typical upbringing but I was not the perfect Elven child and there were some issues.. " She goes on for another few minutes until she notes the glassy stares and hears Beren's coughing.
"Is there anything I can do to help? Is it the sea air or is there it due to an affliction or similar that I could try to heal?"
The captain of the ship snorts and goes to the helmsman. "Steady as she goes, Mr. Davin."
"Aye," he says. "Steady as she goes."
"My apologies. I thought you were the bearer of a new type of weapon. Although this IS quite fascinating."
After the demonstration and Beren's words Lia waits to see if anyone else speaks up. When no one does she starts.
"Well, I was raised in the temple. I would say it was mostly a typical upbringing but I was not the perfect Elven child and there were some issues.. " She goes on for another few minutes until she notes the glassy stares and hears Beren's coughing.
"Is there anything I can do to help? Is it the sea air or is there it due to an affliction or similar that I could try to heal?"
"'I was not the perfect Elven child' you know when we get back to Sharn, let's make t-shirts like that. They'd become the rage for sure."
Jacen smiles a rather large smile, knowing he was about to follow up his joke ...
"We could put them right next to the 'I was not the perfect Scion of my House' t-shirts, maybe offer a discount when they were purchased in pairs. That said, there is a great deal of latitude given to the Dragonmarked, especially when their Mark has seemed to bless them with sorcery as well."
The power was something almost anyone could sense just a little of, but when the young man removed his waistcoat, the Mark was clearly visable, on his chest just above his heart.
Lia laughs, "Some of the younger elves might enjoy that. Tradition means too much in our lands as well. And yes, even there the Dragonmark is a sign of power and prestige."
As the ship enters the open sea, a swell comes up that the ship plows through. One of the lookouts notice something on the sea.
"Ship off the port bow!" he calls.
Lia looks that way.
"With our luck i'm sure that isn't just a passing merchantman."
Trouble creeps on our heels like a jackal following the smell of the blood of a wounded man, running at random through the wild forest, until fever and blood loss finally finish him off and this jackal eats his carrion...
Beren throws his cigarette butt overboard. You're definitely right, Lia.
Lia looks that way.
"With our luck i'm sure that isn't just a passing merchantman."
Readjusting his clothing, Jacen says, "We cannot be the only vessel on the sea ... but the concern is not misplace either."
"Hopefully it's not pirates," says the captain. "Mister Danish, give me a report on the flag."
The lookout, Mr. Danish, calls down, "It's a Zil flag -- red and white."
The captain nods. "Still it may be pirates," he says. "Gnomes are better talkers than sailors."
"Perhaps we should have our weapons and gear nearby. Just in case."
She goes to collect her things.
As a crewmember, Karsh'e waits for orders.
Lambda readies its combat subroutines, but has little else to do to be ready; its very body is a weapon. Even so, it looks in the direction the lookout is looking.
The captain pulls out his spyglass and looks forward with it. "Be prepared to sail at top speed, we may have to outrun her," the captain says.
The ectoplasm around him ripples, forming a sword blade. He pulls out his shield and straps it on. Prepared to repel boarders, Captain.
"Is there anything I can do to help? Is it the sea air or is there it due to an affliction or similar that I could try to heal?"
They say that this requires magic so expensive that few people can afford it... Not to mention that it is not entirely clear where to look for such a healer. It's cancer. Well... I've lived longer than most in this war anyway, it's a sin to complain.
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If you need more hands, just tell me, Captain.