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It was late in the day, the heat from earlier turning to humidity as the evening storms began brewing. The sounds of the ocean lapping against the sides of the ship continued unabated as they had for the entirety of the journey and overhead an occasional caw could be heard from a passing seabird. The majority of the crew and passengers were up on deck trying to find a measure of relief from the heat using the sea breeze.
The half-elven woman, Aerys Mavato who fought with a crew member almost the moment she came aboard, is sitting with her back against the foremast writing in a large book with a bottle of alcohol close at hand.
Near to the bowsprit the gnome Gelik Aberwhinge and a pair of crewmen are swapping tale tales while Sasha Nevah, a fiery young woman, leans against the ships handrails listening intently while trying to look uninterested.
Almost opposite Sasha stands Ishirou, the older Tian swordsman, stands looking out to sea seemingly in a world of his own. Ieana, a Varisian scholar intrigued by the possibilities of discovering ancient knowledge in the Mwangi expanse, stands near the captain talking quietly with him as he guides the ship across the ocean.
As far as you know the entirety of the passengers are standing up on deck, barring of course the criminal Jask Derindi who is still locked up in the brig below decks. It must be horrible down there during this part of the day and a part of you wonder what he must have done to deserve his incarceration.
Fugg yawns and stretches from his spot on the rail. Having finally conquered his sea sickness and calm the ever excitable Bashhorn he is enjoying his time on ship finally. He had already tried to speak with several other passengers, but his slow wit and orc blood made him awkward in speaking. For now he would continue to enjoy the open air for soon he would have to go below to check on Bashhorn again.
On deck, Gerrick tips his hat to those he passes and leans against the rail, taking the time to listen to Gelik and the crewmen speaking of such distant and exotic things. The stories helping to alleviate the length of journey.
"...and that gentlemen is how I, Gelik Aberwhinge, managed to dissuade the enormous green beast from attacking the town ever again" Gelik finishes.
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From the sound of it the well dressed gnome is once again telling a larger then life story of how he managed to talk an ancient green wyrm into never attacking a town again. You wonder if he managed to maybe talk a young green out of bothering a village but even that seems to stretch credulity. Gelik at least though appears to be able to guage his audience quite well and he does seem to vary his audience so he seems more a fan of telling tall stories rather then just meaningless boasting.
"Ah, Mr. Caramadge isn't it? How're you my gnomish compatriot?" Gelik cries out in a loud theatrical voice obviously trying to draw his fellow gnome into the conversation hes having with the sailors.
"Why yes, good sir," replying to Gelik. "I am most excellent and things seem to be brighter each passing day. What brings you on such an amazing voyage then? Seeking out more villages to save from such incredible beasts?"
"Oh, you know, a story of misunderstandings and a desire to see new horizons, probably the story of half the passengers aboard" Gelik replies expansively "What about your own story Mr Caramadge?"
Fugg looks somewhat regretably at the ocean before turning to the sailor "Yar, this ship is no place for an animal like Bashhorn, and that little pen doesn't make matters better."
Fugg hops down off the rail and follows the sailor below.
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As Fugg heads below decks following the sailor he can smell the heavy animal muck of Bashhorn. The Rhinoceros, its thick leather hide a mottling of shades of gray, snorts loudly when it notices Fugg approaching. It isn't that Bashhorn is a fearful beast by nature but the unfamiliar surrounds and restriction of his ability to roam have put him as on edge as a Rhinoceros can get without charging around putting a hole in the hull.
His eye facing the walkway swivels in its socket until it finds Fugg's features in the gloom and an almost palpable tension leaves his body as he spies what he has come to think of as his herd mate.
Hern gazes out at the sea, tapping the four fingers on his left hand on the railing nervously. It has become a common sight: the scarred halfling, standing apart, gazing. For most of the voyage, he's held himself apart from the others, apparently uncomfortable in company of so many unfamiliar humans.
Once, he wandered down to the hold with Fugg to get a look at the rhino, but otherwise he's watched the other warily.
When Gelik finishes his story, Hern features break out into a brief smirk. He's been listening. The gnome is ridiculous, but amusing. That particular story is one of Hern's favorites.
Handle Animal:
"I know Bash, I know I don't like it down here neither. Soon we'll be out and roaming free. " Fugg scratches Bashhorn around the horn with the edge of his greataxe, a ritual he uses whenever Bashhorn gets upset. The rhino reacts almost immediately and soon Fugg has a gentle sleeping giant laying next to him.
"A sentiment I think your beast and I can both appreciate" Jask says from his cell opposite Bashhorns, his voice pitched low to avoid waking the now slumbering beasts.
"Don't think I don't see you there Mr Halfling" Gelik announces when he spies the smirk on the halflings face "perhaps you'd like to join the conversation and tell us a story of your travels, though perhaps you'll need to censor the story somewhat, you look a little worse for ware and we wouldn't want to frighten the easily cowed"
"What sort of story would you like, gnome? Perhaps you'd like to hear the tale of how I got this–" Hern points to the scar the mars his right cheek. "My master's lash. I failed to have his horse ready quickly enough after he embarrassed himself in front of another one of those foolish old ladies that he was so found of wooing. But don't worry, I paid him back in the end. I fear my stories aren't as pretty as yours."
Sitting in what shade he could find, Aldon tinkers with His weapon. He checks the crank, making sure its well oiled. His hands work Deftly, as if they have done this many, many times before. next, he scans the massive crossbow's String, checking for and loose strands, or frays. Finally, he checks the sights, they aim straight and true. Satisfied with his work, he draws a quiver of bolts, and begins to sharpen them, one, two, three passes w/ the whet stone to each side, then the other, He then loades the bolts into, what looks like wooded boxes, five a piece. Once finished, The older gentleman draws a Cigar from his shirt pocket and lights it up, puffing happly, and listening to the tall of a green dragon.
" I have a tale of a Green dragon aswell! However mine ends not so happy for the green. Har haha"
"Well Mr Halfling, it could be a prettied story, all the best stories contain fragments of pain and fear, they're our shared heritage as it were" Gelik replies "though for now perhaps it would be easier to hear Mr Rooks tale of his triumphant hunting of a dragon"
"My god you love the sound of your own voice don't you "Mr" gnome" Sasha says from her perch, leaning against the handrails.
"Twas' only a young one, not a 'Massive green' as you delt with Winks But he put up a good fight, If not for old Volley' striking true, I'd have been finished. I tracked the little bugger from a Small town outside sandport into the country side. The Mayor said the green had just started demanding their sheep as payment for not destroying their town. The mayor, thinking himself something of a scholar, felt the young wrym was acting a little big for his Britches. So they sent message for me, and I tracked him down.... What a thrill! To hunt something that can very well hunt you back! Har hahha"
"He's not hurting anyone, Sasha. And, anyway, I like his stories. I find the mindless prattle distracting. But perhaps you have a tale to tell to while away the time?"
"So, then, bold hunter," Hern say, turning toward Aldon, "Why decamp for the Expanse? It sounds like you were doing just fine for yourself wherever you came from."
"Ahh.. you see, Dragons are cunning creatures, able to think and lay traps, use magic, but they are also prideful, arrogent. This leads them to make mistakes. I'm in Search of something more... Primal, something that hunts on pure instinct.. something big...that is the thrill I seek."
"A creature of pure animal instincts? That would be a sight, for certain."
A tall wisp of a man emerges from the passenger cabins, the widow's peak of his long dark hair making the deep furrow in his brow all the more apparent. He would appear handsome, but his chiseled features lend him an air of feral pride that some might find off-putting, and his pasty skin marks him as a man who prefers the company of his books. He squints his eyes against the sun for a moment, turning his gaze to the deck as he adjusts to the light, then takes a quick survey of the surroundings, peering momentarily at the crowd gathered around the gnome.
Ah, the eager masses, easily amused by any fabrication, so long as it contains dragons. The austere half-elf gives a brief smile at the sight of the buxom redhead, but pays her no more than a passing glance.
His utilitarian robes ripple in the breeze as he makes his way over to the Tian fellow peering into the horizon.
"A long way from home," Lydran speaks in a authoritative but raspy voice. "I do not assume to know the reasons for your distance, friend, but if you are feeling out of place, consider that here on sea, we are all foreigners. But please indulge me, if I do not seem too presumptuous - you are clearly of Tian heritage, but is that your homeland, or are you perhaps a second-generation settler? I have always found other cultures fascinating, you see, and I'm afraid to say I know less than I would like of your people."
I am sorry sir, I do not relish the chance to revisit my past in either story or memory" the Tian man states turning to face Lydran.
"Don't mind her Mr Halfling, she's just bitter becuase she wants to be a rebel and doesn't have anyone to fight" Gelik says with a slight sneer for Sasha.
Lydran holds his hands to his sides an an apologetic gesture, offering a shallow nod. "Then I shall respect that. You seem like a well-traveled individual though, surely you have some less troubling tales to trade?"
"I have only recently finished a time an an indentured swordsman, I have a love of travel and the sea, what of you?" Ishirou asks trying to turn the conversation from himself.
Lydran arches a pointed brow. "An indentured swordsman? Well, I suppose I can understand your reticence to discuss that, but it must have at least had its interesting moments. As for myself, I suppose you could say I am fleeing stagnation. Cheliax, for all its former glory, seems content to assure itself of its greatness without acting to reinforce its status. Another Taldor in the making. I have studied the great empires and civilizations of the past - Azlant, Thasillion, Old Cheliax - but my focus has been on ancient cultures in Avistan, and I have recently found myself wondering what mysteries Garund must hold. Sargava shall be my door into the Mwangi Expanse."
"I would talk more of the past for even dark times have their light however, I swore not to reveal what action I undertook during my time of indenture and I would not sully my honor for idle conversation" Ishirou replies "You are a scholar though, of the lands we are traveling towards. Do they hold much of interest for one such as yourself?"
"Most certainly. The Mwangi Expanse is the next great frontier. A scholar can read about Old Azlant until their eyes bleed, but that is all they will ever do - read about it. The extensive ruins and thriving remnant tribes in the Expanse provide an opportunity for firsthand experience, provided one is bold enough. Too many forget that sequestering oneself in a library provides only a vicarious knowledge of what they seek to understand. I prefer to get out and into the field, as it were."
"You seek to study with your hands rather then your eyes?" Ishirou asks.
Lydran gives a brief chuckle. "I seek to use all of my senses. Those who think they can learn everything the world has to offer from a book are blind, and those who think that empirical experience is all that is required are equally ignorant. Life itself is a scholarly pursuit, my friend, and to learn all you can, to take advantage of all that you might, you must keep your eyes, ears, nose - everything - open."
"An interesting philosophy, I truly hope that you find what you seek beyond Sargava" Ishirou says as he glances towards the skies "It will begin the evening downpour soon".
Hern, his eyes narrowing in distrust, watches Lydran emerge from the passenger cabin. The Half-Elf clearly bear some Chellish blood. He carefully divides his attention between the sparring between Gelik and Sasha and the quieter conversation between Lydran and Ishirou. Hern misses much of the conversation between the two men, but what he hears–indentured swordsman, Cheliax, Old Cheliax, great empires–he doesn't like.
Lydran brushes an unruly shock of hair behind a sharply tipped ear, as a hardened look comes over his eyes. "A downpour? You suspect there shall be a storm?"
"Not a storm, just a heavy rain as occurs more and more often as we get closer to our destination" Ishirou replies still watching the sky.
Lydran offers a heavy sigh. "It is not enough enough that we are surrounded on all sides by a liquid desert, it seems that the heavens must open to quench us further." Shaking his head, he gives a casual wave towards Ishirou as he takes his leave. "Well, Ishirou, perhaps we shall speak again another time. For now, I leave you to ponder the horizon. I hope that your destination affords you better times than your origins, but bear in mind that nothing promotes growth so much as suffering."
Lydran takes a few brisk strides across the deck to join the rest of the crowd.
"You know gnome, you dress like a noble, act like a noble and talk down to others like a noble but I've noticed that you eat the same swill as us when it comes to dinner, one would think a noble such as yourself would be dining with the captain like Ieana" Sasha sneers at the gnome having been the target of his humor once too often "Perhaps you just like mucking about with us poor folk but that doesn't mesh with the ink stains and callouses on your hands, perhaps you're just a scribe with airs?"
"My, but you're a venomous one, aren't you?" Lydran asks as he steps into the gathering of passengers. "May I ask what our little storyteller has done to earn such vitriol?"
Hern tenses as the Chellish Half-Elf joins the conversation.
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"The little bastard has been sniping away at me with that rebel without a cause schtick for days now, I'm just reminding him that he isn't perfect." Sasha replies not sparring a glare for Lydran.
"Look I know my humor can be grating and I'm sorry if I've offended you Ms. Nevah, perhaps we should just calm down and I'll agree to keep any of my witticisms to myself" Gelik says as he gesticulates widely trying to broker a peace.
"That's too bad, gnome. I was hoping she'd toss you into the ocean. Wanted to see how many of these sailors could swim, and who'd be willing to go in after you."
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"Oh my, now isn't that just a helpful comment to add scarface?" Gelik splutters.
"Hey, you lot, cool it down or I will through the lot of you into the deep blue" a voice adds.
As you turn you see Alton, the first mate of the ship approaching with an easy smile on his deeply tanned face.
"Before you guys tear each other apart I thought I'd mention that its time for dinner" Alton adds "Its even your favorite, the maestro has prepared another meal of watery soup."
"Truly the maestro's expertise with food is matched only by his social graces," Lydran mutters as he moves towards the mess hall. "He certainly keeps you coming back - the teasing hunger his portions leave behind always have me looking forward to the next meal, wretchedly bland as it may be."
Hern scowls at the gnome, as if considering whether to gut Gelik. Instead he just sneers: "Maybe someday you'll have a few scars of your own and folks will believe your stories. Like I said, I like your stories. Very entertaining nonsense. Shall we go dine?" Hern turns and heads inside.
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The ships cook is, in his own way, a true maestro. Tonight he has managed to make the watery soup taste different but in a manner which is neither better nor worse. Basically, in your mind, managing to make gruel taste no better or worse but still managing to make it taste different should be its very own culinary school they teach in the lower depths. That's the last coherent thought you have until you awake the next day.
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Its peaceful and warm in the darkness and for a while nothing intrudes. Then your mind begins reorganizing your thoughts and interpreting the signals your body is receiving from its senses. You feel the tickle of grains of sand against your face, the heat of the sun against your back and hear the roar of not too distant surf.