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I've come to the conclusion that with my changing state I've taken on too much on these boards and need to scale back. I'm sorry that I've made you all wait on me so much, but it should be easier without me around to clog up the gears. :) I'm not leaving the boards fully, but cutting back to Lucent's game and my Shattered Star game. Hopefully, this will let me relax enough to manage a decent posting schedule. I'll see you all in the Reign of Winter game and good luck here.
Sareivat tried to keep his mind off the fight earlier the day. It wouldn't do to think about it too much. Besides, he'd seen plenty of fights in his time in Ilizmagorti, just never taken part in one, at least not one so... impromptu? Combat, war... That was something that one could put their heart into. This, though? He shook his head more than once while thinking about it. He looked forward to a proper battle. Running messages for the crew was thankfully a fairly easy task on this day. A cool breeze kept the tiefling from overheating, which Sareivat thanked his luck for. The idea of getting into a raid on another ship excited him and he hoped it would be fairly soon, but a niggling thought kept bothering him. How could he fight proper without his gear. The captain was a fool to take the needed tools away from his crew. Sareivat knocked on the quartermaster's door, intending to deliver a message and inquire about the whereabouts of his gear. Hopefully he could get his things back somehow and he figured the quartermaster would know. Afterall, the captain didn't want to speak to him and the other officers who might have some ability to do something didn't exactly seem inclined to help.
Dice:
I read through the gameplay section and I'm gonna consider what to post over tomorrow. I'll make my next post tomorrow evening. Also, thanks Crusty for reading between the lines. I appreciate the consideration and patience.
Sareivat wandered down to join the rest of the newcomers as the red-headed priestess comes to talk. He'd been distracted for a bit by thoughts of his missing formula book and the time already lost to this frustrating endeavor. He pokes at the stew a bit as she speaks, taking a bite from it and pausing with each attempt to chew. The taste is bad enough, but poking around in the stew showed where the rat catchers were throwing the day's work. "Gods, this is terrible." He contemplated the rum as the Besmaran priestess spoke of turning it into grog. "So, they don't check if we drink it, so long as we don't throw it out," the tiefling mumbles. He sniffs the alcohol and rankles his nose from the potency of the fumes, "Ugh... I think I could turn this into a weapon if need be. I've smelled similar chemicals in a lab." A quick surreptitious flick of his cup sends the liquid away and over the edge of the ship. Better to not dull my mind with the potent stuff. He looks up as Sandara introduces herself, "Sareivat, alchemist formerly out of Ilizmagorti." Standing up, he offers a hand to Sandara.
Sareivat heads for the first of the coils of rope he's to move. I'd better work hard for the time being. Use the time to get an appraisal of the ship and not look like a failure while doing it. He hefts the coils and drags it to the other side of the ship, where he's presented with a large knot to work out of another line. It's going to be a long day... He sighs and sets to work on the knot. By evening time, he's done an admirable job of working the lines on deck, but despite the hard work, only feels mildly fatigued. Good to work out the kinks after our arrival. He grins to himself and stretches out the muscles in his arms and back. I'm going to need to find out what happened to my gear, though. Tomorrow. He shakes his head and stretches it side to side, working out the kinks in his neck.
Apologies for the absence. I'm dealing with IRL issues. Hopefully it won't happen again.
Sareivat looks up at the crow's nest high above and sighs. I was never that great in the rigging. Climbing's never been a strong point of mine. He strides over to the ropes with purpose, but little heart in it and begins to methodically pick his way up. He chooses poorly on the first rope and quickly flips out of the rigging, landing on the deck with a solid *THUMP*. Standing again, rubbing his tail where he fell on it, Sareivat again starts to climb the rigging, but by the time that he's made much headway, a look up shows that two of the others have already reached the top.
The distant land crushes the tiefling's hope. Too far out. I don't think I could swim that, even if I wasn't bound like this. He surveys the ship, taking stock of the layout and the composition of those standing on deck. They've taken our gear, but the others seem to have possessions amongst them. I wonder how or if I can go about reacquiring my belongings. Some of those chemicals are difficult to synthesize... Sareivat's thoughts begin to drift off about alchemical formulae when the Garundi man begins to speak. He breathes a sigh of relief as he hears the captain speak. Press-ganged, thank Besmara. He refixes his gaze on those standing on the poop deck, wincing slightly when the younger man smiles. I've not got a good feeling about this still. He fidgets a bit at the thought, but the rope rub and chafe a bit. He looks down at his binding. Still, it'll be good to get these off.
Oh god... Press ganged... I hope. Sareivat sighs deeply as he stands up straight and heads for the stairs. There's no real drive behind his steps, but fear of repercussions drive him onward anyways. Better than being a slave... Oh god... A perpetually worried look stays on his face the entire time. As he reaches the door and makes it onto deck, the blinding light blinds him. He pulls one hand up to shield his eyes, but the other arm comes along for the ride in an awkward movement.
Sareivat groans as he wakes, headache and greeting him like a morning rooster screeching in his ear. "Lovely," he rasps as his vision clears. "Don't know what I had to drink last evening, but I'm guessing that its not something that I made a good choice in imbibing." He goes to put his hands out to sit up, but suddenly discovers that they're bound. He jerks at them for a few moments, looking down to stare at the rope with a look of surprise and confusion on his face. "Well, now I'm certain that it wasn't a good choice." Thoughts come rolling in with the pulses of dull pain that make it difficult to focus. Stumbling from the tavern, The Formidably Maid, Sareivat paused for a moment to steady himself. It seems that he'd had a bit too much to drink. "Well, 'bout time to find a bed, I suppose," he grinned slightly to himself and headed down the road, glancing to the sides for a suitable inn. Sudden voices from behind surprise him and as he begins to turn around, his vision explodes with light and color before falling black. He rolls over and pushes himself into a sitting position, his tail lashing about. His hands pull up for a moment to try and touch the place where he was struck the night before, but with them bound, it's difficult or impossible to reach. As he sits up, he pauses for a moment to take in the room. The footfalls draw his attention and he looks up to the direction they're coming from. Scooting over to the nearest prisoner, Sareivat nudges the tattooed, red-bearded man. "Hey, wake up! I've no clue who you are, but we've been taken prisoner!" He glances up again at the footfalls with a worried look on his face. S!%!... What have I gotten myself into?
Appearance and Personality are posted. I'm not entirely happy with the paragraph I've written for Personality, but its close enough for the time being.
Looking forward to it. Also, I'm posting up fluff at the moment. I'm still working on background, but I should have it up, completed, by the end of the night.
Alright, I've drawn up crunch now. I'll work on fluff tomorrow. The basics are that he's a tielfing raised by Chelish parents in Ilizmagorti. He left to try his luck in the Shackles, but I'll determine a more thorough motivation tomorrow. |
