Day 1 – 20 Zarantyr:
The Precarious Retreat heads out of Sharn to the south, picking up altitude, before finally levelling out around 1000 feet. It has been only a couple of hours since you first arrived at House Medani, but it seems much longer.
Once you’ve cleared the outskirts of Sharn, the clouds begin to break up, and a cool winter sun rises high overhead.
The ship moves gracefully and swift through the clear skies, all of your gear stowed below in the common area. On the horizon, you can see the Hilt, with the great ocean not too far beyond it.
You have noticed Dalwir giving orders to the crew of eight and piloting the ship out of Sharn, but he has now given up the helm to his second in command, a half-elf woman, of no more than 35 years. A more casual examination of him shows that he carries a rapier at his hip, along with a lute strung over his back, and there is no hiding his dragonmark – it has grown to such size that it is the largest you’ve ever seen, with corners poking out of sleeves and collars. He walks down from the stern platform of the ship, and approaches your group.
“Welcome aboard, mates’, ‘tis a fine time as any to be headed out over the great sea. I should have ye’ at Stormreach in about 3 days time. Thar be reports of a storm somewhere to the northwest o’ Stormreach, so we’ll be givin’ it a wide berth.”
“We don’t live fancy on the Precarious, but we do live well...”
“Feel free to wander the ship, hopefully this will be more like a pleasure cruise.”
“We’re well stocked with rum and ale belowdecks, and Francis is our on-board chef, one of the best in the House.”
The rest of the day passes uneventfully. The ground below has given way to the waves of the sea. After a hearty evening meal, the evening entertainment comprises of several of the crew playing various instruments and telling tales. The stories and music interweave together to such a degree, that it almost feels as though you are part of the story.
You sleep peacefully through the night. (Those of you who actually sleep)
Day 2 – 21 Zarantyr:
Morning breaks, and the smell of baked biscuits and fresh gravy rouse you from your slumber. You make your way to the source of the aroma and have your fill. You spend a fair amount of time above decks, peering overboard at the endless sea below you, noticing on occasion a group of whales here and there.
Around midday, the winds have risen to around gale force, and appear to be steadily increasing.
Dalwir exclaims,”Damn, I thought we’d miss it. ‘Tis too big to go ‘round, so we’ll need to go through.”
The captain appears to begin the casting of a spell, and you notice the tips of his dragonmark being to glow. He completes his task in about 10 minutes time, and over the next ten minutes, you notice that the winds begin to taper off, the clouds part, and you are now surrounded by calm, sunny skies, though you can still see the storm surrounding you in all directions on the horizon.
The rest of the day passes uneventfully.
After another amazing meal and evening of entertainment, you retire to your bunk and fall quickly asleep.
You are awoken to a clanging sound and shouts of “ALL HANDS ON DECK! ALL HANDS ON DECK!” When you eyes open, you notice that it is the middle of the night and the rest of the crew is hastily grabbing weeapons and heading up the stairs. You hear a loud thump come from directly above your bunks, where you remember the deck-mounted ballista was.
OOC: I need initiative and actions for all of you. You have awoken from sleep, so you are unarmored and weaponless, in your bunks below decks.
