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Dawn breaks and Freedom’s Eagle sails with the tide. With the Vice Admiral in command, this promises to be an auspicious voyage.
The streets of Port Maverick teem with common and noble folk alike despite to early hour. The city pulses with a festival air as people young and old celebrate the anticipated success of the Vice Admiral’s undertaking.
Mortimer arrived at the town in his traveling outfit, a dark garb with copper details that match his cloak half hidden under his well made backpack. He leans on his cane as he looks around, but as he walks there's no sign of a limp. After seeing the different inns, he decides on The Citizen Soldier...although he does envy the music in The Seahawk. That night he stayed mostly to himself, only greeting people who addressed him first and keeping the conversation dull. He stays up very late, doing nothing more interesting then reading up on a book labelled Suiaerl Kartahviri di wer Fogahral Grapwol. Sometime around 4 or 5 he puts the book down and goes to sleep
Mortimer rises early, showing no sign of weariness from only two hours of sleep and goes down to get some breakfast, which he brings back up to his room and eats while readying his spells for the day. He checks through his wands and other things, then heads out the door.
Since he arrived so late he didn't get to see what the town had to offer, and decides to go to their marketplace and peruse a bit. He looks for any local specialties as well as any trinkets that appear magical
Erasmus had elected to stay on the ship the previous night. Say what you will about his youth and cockiness and his tendency to run his mouth at inopportune times, he is a consummate soldier and a voyage with the Vice Admiral is not something he is going to risk for bad music and a woman with a pseudonym.
He goes up on deck and begins preparations for the Vice Admiral's arrival. His mail is already so shiny he practically glows in the early morning sunlight, being mithral, but he still takes care to wipe away invisible smudges.
He can't repress his nature entirely, however, as he says to a sailor who was going into town and returned quickly, having forgotten something.
Well, I knew better than to expect you'd be late, but I can't believe she's done with you already. Honestly, Christoff, I hope you never decide you want children, she'll never know how to get a child from you.
Unnarmed Combat
The crunch of steel-plated fist on flesh sounded around the common room of the Citizen Soldier as Harkwyn smashed his opponent to the ground with a resounding blow to the face. He snarled then and stood up from his chair, plated boots stomping loudly on the wooden floorboards as he moved around the table, upon which rested several beer steins, pushed to the side to make room for the game of cards. Several marked cards littered the chair where his opponent had sat.
"Cheat me will ye?" he growled out in a thick accent at the unconscious man before he snatched a yet full mug and drained it of ale in one go. Belching loudly, he cast a steely-hard blue eye about the room and its other occupants before he turned back and retrieved his huge pack from where it leaned against his chair, his massive double-bladed axe and heavy round steel shield strapped to it, all of which he slung over his armored shoulder with one arm. He then leaned down and tugged the coin purse from the senseless mercenary's belt and plopped it down loudly on the table.
Intimidation
"Fer yer troubles," he said to the barkeep, before he tugged his helmet back onto his head, visor up, and began stomping out of the room towards the swinging double-doors. "Come on brother, time to be shippin out"
Ingvar grunts and taps out his pipe swiftly stowing it away. He then shoulders the massive weapon at his side. "Ye know this is why we can't go anywhere nice. " He says quietly as he carefully steps through the door to the tavern.
"Now where is that ship? "
Harkwyn throws his brother a look and then turns, putting one hand on the haft of his axe. "Ye sure ye want to be picking a fight with the Stonecast brothers?" he asked coldly, tapping his weapon with a broad thumb, iron-hard eyes hard on them. "Unless ye got a wish to be going home in pieces, I suggest ye take yer cheat of a 'grandad' on home new" He glowered dangerously at the man, tapping rhythmically on his axe to make his point.
Intimidation
Please, my brother the priest comes up with better than that. To answer your question, probably about a week ago. Last time your sisters came to town.
Mortimer flinches at the loud noise; he enjoyed how this inn had remained relatively quiet. He stays for a moment to watch, raising his eyebrow as the men attempt to pick a fight they clearly can't win, if the dent in their grandpas jaw is any indication. He's about to leave, but then he hears the mans brother mention a ship. Oh joy. I'm traveling with men who think with their muscles. Hmm, the Stonecast brothers. He frowns, watching the scene unfold further as yet another man comes to pick on the short brothers. He looks around at the attention that's getting drawn, and decides it's best to sit and wait to see what happens
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"Our sister is a lucky girl then my brother. Gods know she won't do better with that mustache. I'm glad to hear you and Phillip get on so well!"
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"Do you think we are afraid of you, then!? You will learn better presently!"
The four men charge: two per Stonecast son.
Ingvar takes a solid strike to the shoulder, while Harkwyn feels the makeshift club smash his oft broken nose.
Mortimer, from his seat in the pub, can just see this take place in the street before the tavern.
Cmb grapple
Ingvar growls in his throat before dropping his hammer in annoyment before rolling forward next to his brother grabbing the larger man and lifting him off his feet.
Harkwyn swore loudly in pain as he felt the cudgel connect with his nose and Drew out his shield before smashing the attacker hard in the gut. "nobody breaks me beautiful nose"
Mortimer's eyebrows lower as things get more violent. He quickly stands and walks outside, and after the first few bruises are given out, he raps his cane on the ground. The cane makes an audible, resounding , as if an ogre put his foot on the ground, but only the men fighting can hear it. "That is enough. Whether or not there was cheating involved in that game, this is not the way to handle it." he looks each man in the eye, looking at their reaction (and even if they stopped fighting) before he says anything else
Erasmus places his hand on his chest and turns melodramatic, feigning offence with his voice and face.
If there's one thing I'm not, it's discriminatory,
He turns back to his usual self
and I thought it'd be good for her to get some experience from outside the family before the wedding.
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The sailor's laughter rings out as, having retrieved his forgotten items, he sets out again with a jovial wave of his hand.
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The fighting stops dead at the resounding . Ingvar hold one sailor in an arm bind, while Harkwyn stands before a winded sailor from a blow to the gut. The other two look dull-eyed at Mortimer.
Ha, look at these two. They're not even trying to hurt the sailors. Still, you can't go punching anybody that slights you He takes another moment to look between the men, resting on the Stoncast brothers "You two should know better than to cause problems when you have work to do soon. It sets a poor example"He looks back at the men who picked the fight "While fighting is not the way to handle this, I do know that you are right in defending your grandfathers honor. I doubt you will drop this slight so easily, so I have another way to solve this. Play another game of cards; I will watch to make sure there is no dishonesty"
Ingvar eyes the refined looking man for a time then grunts and pushes the man he was holding gently away before picking up the nasty looking hammer up. "Well then I think I'll go back to my smoking then. What you say brother? "
Mortimer watches them go, then shakes his head and turns back towards the brothers. "I don't like to chastise those who I consider equals, but don't start fights like that" he pauses a moment "I am Mortimer Talinth, I overheard you in there and it seems we'll be aboard the same vessel with the same mission" he shifts his cane to his left hand and offers his right
Ingvar peers up at the other man for a while before grasping it in his meaty one. "So don't. Hahaha Ingvar Stonecast this heres me brother Harkwyn. "
Erasmus busies himself with the preparations on the ship, pooling lines, storing harpoons, and scrubbing. Lots of scrubbing.
"Well now I do believe it be time to be going. Come on brother." With that said Ingvar nods towards Mortimer and turns his brother towards the ship before harkwyn decided to go after the sailors.
Well at least one of them has a level head. Mortimer nods and shifts his cane back to his right hand, then heads towards the ship.
As they walk across the wood onto the ship Mortimer looks at who's there so far, including two men exchanging witty banter. He stops to listen for a moment, then touches the nearest sailor on the shoulder "Morning. So I'm a bit ignorant to the ways of sailing. How does the tide and wind fair for our journey today? Also, are any other members of our group here?"
Mornin'. Far as I can tell things are looking quite well. As far as the tide goes, we try to time our departure so we can leave at the appropriate time - they're predictable like that - and the weather seems fine. Seems like we're just waiting on the Vice Admiral, once he gets here, you'll probably notice.
"Ah, thank you. Well I'm going to go set my things in my cabin and I be right back up to welcome the Admiral"
Harkwyn, during all of this talking, had spent the time busying himself with poking at his bent nose. At the gesture from his brother, he grunts once in acknowledgement, casts the spellcaster a suspicious, wary eye, before roughly shoving his nose back into place. He doesn't even seem to flinch at the pain before he stows his shield, throws a steel-eyed look after the sailors, before following his brother up towards the ship. He cast an eye down at the waters below and had to resist the urge to dry-swallow in trepidation.
Heal check:
"Boats, ye had to get us a job stuck on a bloody boat, didn't ye, me brother?" he demands of Ingvar, tentatively stepping onto the deck of the ship, heavy plated boots making him creak slightly on the sturdy wooden planks, due to the immense weight of his densely muscled and squat frame, not to mention the hundred or so pounds of metal he was carrying around on his back.
He grumbles more about the boat, mostly about how bloody unsafe they were, tossing a body about willy nilly on the waves with nothing between them and the bottom of the ocean but the next storm. He once again taps his nose just to make sure its in the proper placement before he reports with Ingvar for registration and finds somewhere to put down his heavy pack, although he keeps his axe with him at all times.
Erasmus feigns helpfulness before slipping into his usual demeanor of irreverence at the sight of the short man wearing half the forge.
Come on, it's not so bad. I think the major issue is that you're personally keeping half the miners in the country employed, with all that metal you're wearing. We'll have the wizard make you able to breathe water and use you as an anchor.
Mortimer chuckles as he walks back from his cabin "I don't know, I think he might find the ocean is as stubborn as him" he chuckles again "Besides I don't prepare little utility spells like that"
Erasmus grins widely, showing his slightly-too-large teeth.
Maybe a long tube, then.
Oh good. Someone with a sense of humor.
Mortimer smiles at the image of that, then leans over the edge of the boat and looks out to the open sea "Wonder when he's getting here"
"Ye just try putting one of yer fancy magical tricks on me lad and we'll see who gets made into an anchor..."
Harkwyn growls at the cheeky youth before stomping away muttering under his breath and taking out his portable ale mug and gallon of mead he carried with him and poured himself a drink before settling back against the railing if the ship grumbling darkly to himself
Mortimer raises an eyebrow as Harkwyn displays his obvious distaste of magic "Rest assured, I don't use any tricks. My magic is of the...less subtle kind" Mortimer grins and winks at Erasmus, whispering something, and a second later when Harkwyn attempts to pour out his drink Mortimers mage hand makes it so nothing comes out
Perception
Harkwyn shakes the ale mug once then snarls and looks at the mage. " oh aye ye be since great conjurer rightly! Bloody unnatural book loving...hope we find since slavers to hew the necks of a fore I start the bloody work early..."
Mortimer smirks "Oh don't be so upset. My first thought was to make it spill down your shirt, you should feel lucky"
Erasmus crouches atop a barrel eyes twinkling like his armor, the mischief he started only being surpassed in potential amusement by the fact that the wizard he conscripted into being his accomplice is now his scapegoat.
Now that I have sown discord here, let's step back and watch the scene unfold. I hope he turns him into a newt. I'm fond of newts, I'd keep him in a barrel full of water and name him Pint
Harkwyn scowls at both the Wizard and the youth then grumbles darkly, eyes the ale mug suspiciously then sets it down until he is sure it is no longer enchanted. He crosses his burly arms and settles against the railing of the ship once again, grumbling darkly under his breath before he spots an unoccupied barrel, pulls up two rolls of rope that are not in danger of being needed and sits down upon one, pulling out his portable Shields and Stones strategy board game and jerking his head at his brother.
"Move yer arse brother, the score be tied at 12, and it be yer move"
Mortimer takes a curious glance at the board game, but decides if he asks about it Harkwyn might not leave him alone for the rest of the day. He walks to the side of the boat and whistles, and after a moment a tiny metallic creature shaped like a raven appears. Beneath its shining, articulated plates whir gears and spinning belts. It comes to rest on Mortimer's shoulder "Good morning Biel. These are our companions for the trip"
The bird ruffles it's 'feathers' (an interesting thing, as it makes a metallic clanking sound) and says "Well I hope they don't try to take me apart like the last group"
The fun finished, Erasmus decides to wait for the arrival of the vice admiral.
Ingvar chuckles at the small trick and places the massive hammer down and then winks at the trouble maker. He sits down across from his brother smoking thoughtfully for some time before carefully moving s piece.
The sailors aboard Freedom's Eagle polish off the last minute adjustments, ensuring the ship is ready to sail when bidden. One man, unfurls the Amerysi flag at the top of the main mast, and as if the act itself called him forth, the Vice Admiral appears on the quay atop a spotted grey destrier.
His keen, dark eyes survey the ship in a single sweep before vaulting off his mount. Shining, navy blue boots of fine grained leather pound the wood of the dock as the Vice Admiral marches toward the gangway while his great coat billows behind him like a blue and white cloud. The epaulets perched on his shoulders are twin, steel falcons taking wing.
Vice Admiral Jonathan Trintan verily radiates command as he steps onto the deck, the scabbard holding his famous sword, Slaver's Ruin, knocks once on the gangway as if to signal its wielders arrival.
A decisive nod signifies he finds all to be well. Without a word, he ascends to the quarter deck and grasps the railing in two powerful hands.
"I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways; I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight. I can, however, divine it by conscience. And from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice. Justice for all people: JUSTICE IN THE FORM OF FREEDOM!"
Shouts and cheers erupt from the deck, and the Vice Admiral raises his hand to silence the crew.
"I am aware that many object to the severity of my position; but is there not cause for severity? I will be as harsh as truth, and as uncompromising as justice. On this subject, I do not wish to think, or to speak, or write, with moderation. No! no! Tell a man whose house is on fire to give a moderate alarm; tell him to moderately rescue his wife from the hands of the ravisher; tell the mother to gradually extricate her babe from the fire into which it has fallen; — but urge me not to use moderation in a cause like the cause we undertake with this voyage. I am in earnest — I will not equivocate — I will not excuse — I will not retreat a single inch — I WILL SUFFER NO MAN TO KEEP ANOTHER AGAINST HIS WILL! THOSE WHO DENY FREEDOM TO OTHERS DESERVE IT NOT FOR THEMSELVES!"
"CITIZENS! WE SAIL TO BREAK THE CHAINS OF TYRANNY AND USHER IN A ERA OF LIBERTY FOR ALL! CAST OFF!"
Instantly the ship explodes in cheering applause, and smiling, the Vice Admiral moves to the prow to view the sun on the water as Freedom's Eagle slides from Port Maverick toward the Eleryn Sea.
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At fourth bell, during first dog watch, Vice Admiral Trintan summons Harkwyn, Ingvar, Erasmus, and Mortimer to his quarters for a meal and conversation.