Endrok Port bustles as people of various races hurry to work. There are fishmongers selling their wares, as well as chandlers' apprentices and journeymen running chores for their masters. Beggars hold out hands to passerby, sometimes hurling playful abuse at the stingier ones. Children, mostly human and half-elf, run between people's legs. But most people are stealing looks at the new ship in the harbor.

The Morningdark had once been the pride of the bay, until it was dismantled, and sent, piece-by-piece, up into the mountains, and then sent back down. It's been painstakingly reassembled, and it's finally ready to be unveiled. The best of Endrok society is there, along with representatives of far-off countries, to see the success or failure of this mission. Even the Hierarch of Tranmitz and the Clanmother of Thunderaxe had travelled down from Mt. Sharnech to watch.

The ship is a galley, a hundred feet long, with three masts. Unusually, there were two mainmasts side-by-side in the back, just forward of the quarterdeck, with a much shorter mainmast about sixty feet forward, with a long spar over the foc's'le. The sails are strange. There are two of them, triangular. One corner of each is strong to the top of a mainmast, to a crossbeam on the mainmasts, and forward to the end of the spar on the foremast. The sails are a light-absorbing black, with rainbow colors shimmering where they're moved by the breeze. There's a crow's nest on each of the mainmasts. Rigging leads all three masts. The timber is a dark red, with designs and sigils carved into the wood. Sailors move all along it like ants, getting it ready to sail.

And the last of the ship's crew are now boarding. They are the scouts, given the dangerous, but potentially profitable job of finding natives and resources wherever the ship landed. They are allowed through to the private pier where the Morningdark is docked. Sailors watch them as they come up, some warily, but most of them seem friendly enough.

"Ahoy," a somewhat scruffy gnome says, smiling from under a battered tricorne hat. "Cap'n says he's waitin' for you. Why don't ye leave yer things with me, an' I'll make sure they're safely stowed."

From Garner, who's at work.

Bedge Tallom did his best not to gape in amazement at the ship, hiding his eyes under the brim of his hat as he gazed at it. He knew it would be different, after all it sailed the waves of clouds, not the coastal waters he was used to, but this was something else entirely. It was a good ship, sleek lines, sturdy masts, the rigging smooth and efficient... a ship like that, with eighty seasoned oarsmen who wouldn't tire even against the wind, and each armed to board as reserves... but this wasn't the time to consider such options, and anyway, new advances called for new thinking. Oarsmen here would be useless so far as he understood it. Magic propelled this craft. Bedge wasn't overly familiar with anything magical, beyond the tricks and cantrips of hedge wizards, or foul tasting potions and poultices of village wise women. Still, it was a ship, and what Bedge didn't know about ships he was more than eager to learn. Hiding his calculated study of the craft, he gave an informal salute to the gnome and called 'Aye mate, permission to come aboard?'

Goryn Slave-of-Dreams hulked quietly, hunched inward on himself. It took a great effort not to shiver in front of these strangers and the audience watching them, but he was strong. He had no fear in his heart, not of flying, not of drowning, not of danger. But he'd dreamed this ship. The sigils and runes carved in its hull, though he could not see them clearly at this distance he knew he could draw many of them again and again in his mind's eye. The scintillating pattern of the sails shone like the mist of dreams... his Dreams... not since he was a child had he had dreams so clear, and now he had dreamed this again. Ameso still favored him! Ameso had blessed him again with this curse of visions! Goryn finally DID shake himself when he realized the gnome had spoken and he'd barely heard a word. He set his bag containing his few positions in the world beside him on the dock and cradled his huge bladed long-spear against his shoulder. He quietly stepped in line behind the half-elf and bowed his head to offer a silent prayer of thanks to Ameso.

From Roman, on his cell phone.

Hanro ignored the gnome for a few moments, still awed by the ship, though careful not to show it. Amazing, he thought. Simply amazing. Who would have thought that dwarf and drazai would be capable of creating such a masterpiece? Who could have imagined it in his wildest dreams?

The drazai, apparently, Hanro thought, and smirked. They were always up to something, and this time they were wise to turn to dwarven craftsmen for aid. He had not seen the result of the joint project until now, and he was impressed.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" said a soft voice behind him. Szaz was also impressed with the ship, and there was an unmistakable hint of pride in his voice. The little drazai came forward, and handed his backpack to the gnome, but not before taking out his spellbook. "This I shall keep, you understand," he said. "It is not a matter of trust, but a matter of importance, you understand. Some items a wizard cannot part with, for any length of time."

Hanro took off his own backpack, and threw it to the gnome's feet. "Me weapons an' armor I keep with me," he said. "T'is not a matter of trust," he mimicked the drazai mockingly, "but a matter of not bein' stupid enough ta stay unarmed fer any length of time."

"Now Little Dom, make sure you wrap up warm and eat regularly and not go outside after you've just washed you hair and here are some cookies for the road, share them with the others it's only polite and if this thing falls out of the sky, hold on to something".

Dom's still boyish face was all crimson from embarrassment. His mother would just not let him go in front of all these people, some of whom would be his constant companions for months, and treated him like a five-year-old. Luckily, his father took advantage of a pause for breathing and charged in before she could start again.

"Stop the lecturin' Mother, he's a Kannin Artificer", he chuckled. Dom winced. "He knows what to do and if I remember right, you were just about to set the matchmakers on him. If he's ready to run a home, he's ready to fly. Right, our kid?"

"Yes father. I must really go now, the ship is ready to leave" he mumbled, realising for the first time how much he would miss everyone. Hugging his father, mother, brothers and sisters, grandparents, uncles and aunts, cousins and friends was a long procedure, yet he made sure he drew in a deep breath every time he had each one of his loved ones in his arms. Some healer had told him that smell is the first way we use to tell people apart, as well as the last memory to go and in this emotional state he realised that he could tell them all apart, even with the scent of the forge pickling everyone's skin.

Stooping slightly, as he was still unaccustomed to his height, he hurriedly walked up the gangplank. When the gnome spoke, he mumbled an apology for being late and put down his belongings. Then he remembered his manners.

"Would you like a cookie?" he said, offering the bag to the gnome.

Silja still stood in the distance, and if she had to be honest with herself, she had a hard time making up her mind wether to stay there, or wether to finally go aboard.

When she had been given the chance to become part of this mission, an inner voice had told her that this might be another chance to be grabbed. But now she tried to picture this huge ship flying, when she wouldn't even trust a thing of that size swimming.
Above that, once aboard, there would be no second chance that soon to just turn her back on her companions in case she found out she didn't get along with them - or they with her.

She was asking herself wether that "inner voice" might just have been her usual "ohmygodachancetogetawayfromheregoongoongoon"- reflex. And wether maybe this time, she should not have listened to it.

"And what, stay around and try to marry into a wealthy family? They are so waiting for a girl that doesn't even know for sure how many siblings she has that could be invited for dinner, and I've heard that hair like a cow's tail and a twice broken nose are the latest fashion in these parts, too.
How about you grab your stuff, shuffle onto that ship and try to stay in the middle, near one of the masts, in any case?"
She cursed.

Then she shrugged. At least one of them was handing out food. "That might be a good sign", she thought.

Corben stared up at the ship and wondered whether it had been wise to join this expidition. But still, he had to trust that the ship was safe - otherwise why would they even send someone on a mission such as this?

But that didn't mean he had to trust everyone on this mission. He looked the gnome up and down.

[dice]1d20 = 1421054366 [/dice]

Ba nearly forgot something. Fortunately, he remembered in time. Sense motive checks for those who've posted thus far.

[dice]1d20 = 965721487 [/dice]
[dice]1d20+3 = 645430729 [/dice]
[dice]1d20 = 201426976 [/dice]
[dice]1d20+4 = 702793682 [/dice]
[dice]1d20+1 = 686937410 [/dice]
[dice]1d20+3 = 877727512 [/dice]

Myn and Ben can roll their own sense motive checks.

Everyone except Silja (and possibly Faddenmerith, depending on Myn's roll) is fairly sure the gnome is on the up-and-up. Silja believes he's hustling them.

Corben took his tent off of his backpack and dropped it next to the Gnome. He went to put his backpack alongside him then caught sight of the still armoured Dwarf and the wizard pouring over his spellbook. I can't be caught out he thought and shouldered his backpack once more.

He caught the eye of the gnome, "I'm a military man," said Corben, "I need quick access to my stuff, can't be caught on the hop."

Silja decides to stay low on her first day - and keep everything on her body she migth need to regain her weapons from wherever the gnome puts them.

He doesn't seem to be in the mood for body searching, after all.

Should he decide otherwise after his encounter with the dwarf - then she'd just claim that she had "forgotten about them", that they had "a very personal meaning, being the only things left from her family" and that there were items "a scout like hers could never deposit somewhere out of reach".

[dice]1d20[dice]

[dice]1d20 = 745806989 [/dice]

Actually, it should be 1d20+2, Myn. Faddenmerith adds his wisdom bonus to the roll.

In any case, the elven ranger suspects, like Silja, that the gnome is not trustworthy.

Faddenmerith felt a bit uneasy in the city. There were just too many people in too small a place. On that note, why would so many people want to live this close to each other? Again he touched the handle of the Scmitar he wore at his side, the generous folds of his robe hid most of the sword from sight and the hood hid most of his head and face.

As he closed in on the ship, a strange looking wooden building looking almost the same as the other ships in the harbour. A gnome, of all things, addressed him; asking him to give away his things.

"I have no goods to stowe away, I only have what I carry." Faddenmerith said and made his way past the creature.

"None of that, Arnes Trescle! We'll have none of your jiggery-pokery on this ship," said a rather tall halfling (just over four foot). His fair hair contrasted with his weathered skin. He wore an oilskin greatcoat and broad-brimmed hat, both black, over a red shirt and brown pants. His boots were worn, but neatly polished. He glared at the gnome.

"Just tryin' to be helpful, Mr. Thistle," the gnome said, looking innocent.

"Oh, shove off or I'll have you kiss the bombard," the halfling said, shooing the gnome away. He looked the newcomers over with an expression of disdain. "So, you're the scouts, are you? I'm Ardro Thistle, second mate. The captain is expecting you. He's in his cabin, door to port under the quarterdeck. Take your gear ." He gestured toward the back of the ship, where there's a raised deck and two doors build under it.