Understanding came quickly as Szazzkur followed the magical writing that adorned the scroll. The first was a spell of Mage Armor, a spell that he had in his spellbook, but one that would also come in handy in unexpected circumstances. The second was one that summoned an invisible servant for basic tasks. Szazzkur rolled the scroll shut, and placed it in his scroll case for future reference. He would study the spell more closely when time and means allowed, and scribe the spell into his spellbook.

Faddenmerith accepted the chain shirt and examined it. He realised that it'd make more noice than what he usually wore and that would probably annoy both him and his horse. Except that he was on a ship now and Chamsiin wasn't here, Faddenmerith had left him at home.

"Say Captain, where are we supposed to stay? I don't have much but I'm not planning on carrying around on this shirt any further than I need too."

Bedge chuckled softly "The foc's'le, cousin... that's the raised bit above the deck at the pointy end" he added in terms even such distant kin with sand in their shoes should be able to understand. "If you don't mind giving me a hand with my trunk, we can go there right now. I'm actually eager to try this new armor on and get the feel for it's fit. It's definately appreciated cap'n," he spoke to his benefactor, "though I hope it won't prove to be truely necessary!"

Goryn fingered the wand before tucking it into a pocket inside his cloak and saluted the captain silently with his hand over his heart.

Supposing the Captain had been talking to her when he explained the use of the flasks content, Silja gingerly took it and said "Thanks, Captain...".
She had only so much as heard of such potions, and somehow always filed them under "things completely out of your reach", like the invisibility cloak or the stealth ring or the legendary Hood of Shadows...

She looked around, at the people and how they were examining their new items. It reminded her that someone was putting a lot of money into this, and she wondered if those money givers had reliable information that they weren't putting it into an expedition that would end up as a really big amount of driftwood.

"You're welcome," the captain said with a smile. "Think of it as an investment on our part. They're part of your contract. If you survive long enough, they'll come out of your share."

To the elf, he said, "I already told you, you'll be sleeping in the foc's'le. And I said to stow your things with the bo'sun, Terug. You need to pay attention, lad, especially when an officer's talking."

He shrugged at Bedge. "Some of the lubbers who financed this trip have high hopes that the natives are friendly on other continents. Who knows? Maybe they're right. And maybe the seas will run with ale."

He returned Goryn's salute, and then went back to what he was doing.

((The players need to actually do something before Ba can DM any further. The game does not always consist of the players reacting to the game world, but the game world reacting to the players, as well as the players reacting to each other. Don't just wait for things to happen, go and make them happen. Talk to NPCs. Look around. Show initiative.))

After putting her things away, Silja decided to give her temporary home a closer inspection. Where she was allowed to go, she'd go, and where she wasn't ... well, she'd think of it then.
She liked to know a lot about places she was to stay in a while, and about the people she was going to work with. Terrain first, though. Then the people in it.

Dom was out of his depth. He was given a very powerful weapon and his companions intimidated him.

No way he was going to offer them cookies. He was afraid he might lose an arm in the process. Nevertheless, he had to at least make an effort.

He walked up to Corben. It's not as if he was less scary than the others, but he was holding a sword, and swords always made Dom feel at home.

"Um, hello. I'm Dom. Um, can I have a look at that sword? It looks very well balanced and, um, my family are weaponsmiths and, um, I'd like to take a closer look".

Corben looked at the seemingly timid boy, probably not much older then himself.

"My sword?" he swung it in the air a few times to show off and listen to the pleasant 'swish' it made, "It does look nice, doesn't it?" He touched the edge with his finger, "Sharp too."

"Tell you what, I'll let you look if you promise not to stab me with it." He winked at Dom and offered the hilt to him.

Hanro stowed away his backpack, though he kept both arms and armor on him. He didn't expect trouble, not from the crew and not from his new comrades, but he felt more comfortable with both arms and armor on him.

It was apparent that he had some time to spare, and while some ale or a game of bones would pass it nicely, he had not the funds for either pastime. As Hanro considered his further option, an idea occured. A grin slowly split his bearded face, which he was quick to hide as he went to the deck.

"Where's that Trescle fellow?" he asked the first crewman that he spotted.

* *

After handing over his belongings to the bo'sun, Szaz went to the deck. He leaned on the rail and watched the bustle of the city docks beyond. He did not know when he would next see such bustle, if ever at all. Sighing, the little drazai began daydreaming of the home he had left behind.

((OOC: Ba gave the information on the greatsword))


Dom held the sword by its hilt with his right hand and brought it up to eye level. Then he put his left index finger on the flat side that was facing towards the floor and dragged it from the edge of the hilt to the piericng point, feeling its balance and its edges.

"Definately masterwork. Drazai-made, probably commissioned by a human or a half-orc, definately not a drazai warrior. Elves don't have much truck with greatswords, more's the pity, they miss out on some fine speciments such as this."

He offered the hilt back at Corben.

"Swords like that make me wish I had taken up fencing instead of weaponsmithing. I hope I have the skill one day to make something with as much quality. You are a very lucky warrior."

since no one on the mailing list posted it for me today, the fuckwads, here then is my long awaited post. I now go back to playing Oblivion until my eyes bleed.

After showing the elf where their bunks could be found under the foc's'le, Bedge casually shoved his sea chest under the bunk he claimed for himself and checked the lock to make sure everything was tamper-proof before he took off his coat and buckled his new armor over his chest. 'Not a bad fit at all,' Bedge thought as he took a few experimental stretches, 'I might as well leave this on for a while.' Humming to himself with the anticipation he always felt before a ship cast off, he strolled out onto the deck and cast his eye around to look for any officers to ingraciate himself with. 'Might as well get to work and learn what I can about how this beauty works! Now, if I were the navigator's cabin, where would I be...'

****

Goryn sat down carefully on his bunk and quietly watched the half-elf fiddle with his trunk. He shut his eyes and prayed for guidance and dreams as the half elf began to don the armor, and grimmaced slightly when the other man's humming intruded on his concentration. He slowly worked his fingers over the familiar and time worn haft of his long glaive before resting it against the wall by his bunk. A deep breath and a sigh later, Goryn quieted his shakes and calmed himself by tearing off a leathery portion of stale flatbread from his pouch. Chewing thoughtfully, he stood up and stretched to feel the power and potential flowing through his muscles. Then he sighed again as he reminded himself for what seemed the millionth time that strength of the flesh was nothing if he did not have his visions and dreams. He swallowed the tough bread and took up his spear again, shouldering it as he took his bag of other poessions and set off to find this Terug person... Goryn had known a Terug once. One of his tribes' best hunters, though old and gnarled, Terug was harder than the stone of the mountains he hunted through. At a time when other half-orcs his age had become too feeble or infirm to do more than share the day's stew, Terug still brought in the lion's share of meat for the pot. In the end, it'd been a sudden rockslide that took Terug from the tribe. Goyrn had dreamed of it, had warned Terug, but Terug had waved his warnings away. 'I hunt, young one. Every day I hunt for the tribe. Every day, death hunts me, too. So what if today is the day He wins? So what if it is tomorrow? If I do not go hunt, I am already dead.'

At times, Goryn thought he understood those words too well. When he was younger, he Dreamed. Now, having had a taste of those visions again for the first time in years, he realized he'd come back to life! Goryn unclenched his jaw when he noticed he'd chewed so deeply into his cheek that his mouth was full of blood. Swallowing, he swore to himself that he would not fail Ameso, he would not fail his tribe, and he would not fail himself. He asked a passing crewmember where Terug could be found, and as he made his way along the deck he unconsciously hoped that this Terug would be cut from the same stuff as the one from his past.

After having gotten comprehensible directions, and of course, helped the man... Bedge was it... with his luggage Faddenmerith was now standing in the foc's'le, where he would be sleeping. On a ship. Ships that usually sailed on bodies of water greater than he'd ever seen, but not this one. This one was to sail in the sky, or at least, that was what they were clamining it would do.

Faddenmerith went out into the open air again and tried to find such unobtrusive a spot as possible. There seemed to be a lot of people doing lots of things that Faddenmerith assumed had something to do with leaving the harbour. He set his eyes on a 'sailor' doing something with a lenght of rope and Fadden tried to make out what.

Silja's explorations take her to the lower deck, where she finds the galley and chain locker (where the anchor's chain is stored) to the fore, and the officer's cabins to aft.

"Here, you," a rather chubby halfling says. Unlike the first mate, this one has dark hair, and a light fringe of beard around his face. He's three-and-a-half feet tall. "Give me a hand with these tatties, would you?" He's trying to heft a bag of potatoes nearly as large as he is.

--------------------

Hanro soon finds Arnes Trescle, or rather, Arnes finds him. The gnome popped out in front of him from behind a crate. "There y'are. I knew I'd find you looking around the deck. Just what I said, there's a dwarf who wants to know his surroundings. Now, look, ye can't believe what that..." the gnome take a quick look around, "...that bilge rat of a mate Thistle said. He just don't like me for the reason of I took his hat in a game of bones. Do ye play? Now, ye can't think I'd really steal from you. Where would I go? Where could I hide? I just thought that a poor wayfarer like yerself an' the others wouldn't want to go carryin' all that junk while ye had to talk to the cap'n." The gnome seems to positively ooze trust and honesty. He seems to be sincere.

--------------------

Bedge knows that the second mate is generally in charge of navigation. Thistle's cabin is most likely somewhere on the lower deck, to the aft.

--------------------

Goryn is pointed to a pair of half-orcs on the quarterdeck, talking. Occasionally, the larger of the two shouts something to the sailors, who scurry to and fro to obey.

When they spot Goryn, the smaller one waves him over. "Ho! We gots anodder cousin on ship!" He wears a red sleeveless shirt and brown pants. His boots are worn and scuffed. He has long side burns that brush his shoulders.

By contrast, the larger of the two is impeccably groomed, for a half-orc. He has a ruffled white shirt under a blue coat. His black boots are polished. His beard and hair is braided with ribbons.

Both of them have tribal tattooes indicating they're from the Chandag tribe of Mt. Sharnech.

The larger one smiles. "I am Orgul, und dis here iz my nephew, Terug. Vot's your name, scout?"

--------------------

The sailor Faddy watches seems to be splicing two ropes together.

"Oh, I have nae doubt that ye would've stowed away our belongings, at least I'm sure of it after that little talk we had with captain Strombady," said Hanro, a mischievous glint in his eye, "an' also have nae doubt that you would've … examined 'em, just to make sure that everything was there, right?."

"Oh, ye would've left it all there," Hanro continued before the gnome could reply, "but ye would've also known who had the more coin, so as to know who to invite to games later on."

Arnes looked harmless enough to Hanro, mischief or no mischief . He might even help Hanro pass the time a little.

"I happen to like a game of bones every now an' then, though ye'll find poor pickings in me. I'm willin' ta play for copper, a friendly game, if you will. 'course, if ye happen to cheat…" at this Hanro smiled slowly, though there was nothing amusing in his smile.

Silja didn't mind that kind of work at all: "Sure..."
She'd make sure to introduce herself properly once these potatoes were where they were meant to be... and maybe start a small conversation to the halfling after that. The people you found on the lower decks usually told her more than those of rank, and if she was lucky, this one wasn't new to the ship...