Deep Water and Shoals II

With Artimus hooting a greeting as the Calypso's Grace comes into view, Nico smiles warmy at Mr. Lang ' Well then, I told ye we'd bring em back, Mr. Lang. When I told the Captain he'd missed tea, he right near rowed that boat here himself in perturbance. Artimus (clearly annoyed at not being included in the list of Heroes), doffs his cap to Mr. Lang naval style (he having taken to observing the Officer and emulating hismoves while prancing among the rigging, entertaining the crew) and then scampers belowdecks.

Nico wipes his brow with water from a nearby bucket and says
'Well, I for one wouldn't mind a spot of the good stuff. Lead on Cap'n.'

"Due respec' sair" the Half-Orc says in a quiet tone "Ah'll be stayin b'hin' wit dhe T'riceborn." he nods towards the Swordfisher happy that at least one other will be staying aboard

"Ah'd not be spoilin' yer night by me bein dhere, an' in dhis toun ah don' feel too welcum."

Malachi,

"Y'r sure, Mr. Legba? Y' saved my life, y' know. It doesn't sit right thet y've got t' stay on the ship for fear o' clamdiggers," the Captain says. But he sees that there will be no moving you from your decision, and quickly gives up his attempts at persuasion.

"I owe y' my life, though, an' that isn' something thet Roger T. McCrenshaw forgets easily, you mind thet," he says by way of a parting shot. "I'll pay y' back somehow."

Malthas, Nicodemus, & Anyone Else who Followed the Captain,

The "White Horse Inn" is indeed a cut above the rest, and certainly many cuts above the tavern where you brawled with the Standishtowners. The customers are mostly sea captains and ships officers, with the odd merchant and supercargo scattered in the crowd. The drink here is no throat-stripping Standishtown rum, but Iberrean wine and Esfordshire brandy from Hull with a velvet finish. The serving girls are none of the easy and seedy lot found in most seaport taverns, but are clean, well dressed, and range from mildly pretty to quite beautiful.

"Well, gen'lemen," Captain McCrenshaw says, raising his glass (he seems to prefer Standishtown rum to the best Iberrean wine or Esfordshire brandy), "here's to survivin', an' a fair wind t' speed us out o' this place. May Calypso never let th' seas get rougher than the drink in y'r glasses."

Vemuz,

You sit back and relax as the Captain and those of the crew who felt celebratory follow him.

The CALYPSO'S GRACE is well into the lazy evening dogwatch; what men are not on shore are lounging on the foredeck, smoking their pipes, or skylarking in the rigging.

Mr. Ames, the second mate, stayed with the ship, and he greets you on his way to the chartroom.

"Top o' the evening, Mr. Thriceborn," he says cheerfully. "I hear tell it's up anchor and off soundings tomorrow; Mr. Lang filled the holds while you were skylarking in the woods. There'll be some new hands - clamdiggers probably - that'll need breaking in, I suppose."

Lupe Sanchez, who had gone with the longboat upstream, is sitting on the capstan head, idly flipping a knife into the air; it is the same knife you saw once before, when you pulled him from the sea. It is the knife with BLACK MAST engraved into the hilt. Sanchez shoots a glance at you and you lock gazes for a brief moment.

(OOC All: BUMP. I'd like it if things could be speeded up a bit and we could start the next segment of the voyage, seeing as we're almost there...)

Nico happily drinks with the Captain until the wee hours of the morning, though he wants aboard ship and away from this backwater town as soon as possible.

OoC:I'm ready to be off...

"Evening Mr. Ames. I have them up and running with the crew easy, but they had better not cause any trouble like the rest of their folk back in town."

As Vemuz locks eyes briefly with Lupe he grins to break the awkward silence. He remembers brief snippets of overheard conversation during his stay in the courts of Espirante - the words of the celebrated bard Don Pedrillo.

"Locked in heavenly shift,
They trace wide arcs through the sky.
The gods watch, five thousand eyes.
What many wonders do they see
That the pride of man will never know?"

"I am not one for books, but what strange things you hear in the tall, white, houses of Espirante, eh?" He begins to whistle a haunting tune and continues his walk, looking back up at the clear star-filled sky - it is an old battle dirge he picked up during his inland mercenary days. As he whistles a brief, chill, wind picks up and he pulls the great wolf fur close around his shoulders.

Malachi says nothing at the captains parting compliment, he simply stands and watches as the others in their dandies make their way up to the White House.

He turns as they are lost from sight and sees a couple of Orcish slaves hauling goods to and from the other ships, it is a stark reminder to the Half-Orc who would be navigator, and he stays watching for some minutes.


He hears the voice of his mother telling him of the history of the Orcs and admonishing him to stand tall when the time comes
"Taem longgowae pikifala stap pepol belongyu pik'ni. Pikifala strong belongdhem, bodo'n peopl dhem nanbelongyu...
Taruu tumas taem kum nanlong efi mon sae frii un ikwol livin belongdhem, Pepol belongyu agen dhem pikifalastaplong. Yudhem sae pikifalastaplong tu!"

"Perhaps" he muses as his mind once more turns to the Grugach preparing for war in the forests "Perhaps the time is now!"

Naturally, Malthas will celebrate with the rest of them in his new (hopefully) duds. He will likely arrive aboardships at about a quarter after sunup, scampering on board to make it *just* before he's late enough to be berated, but late enough that it's noticable. And then he will be ready to sail the briny seas!

Naturally, Malthas will celebrate with the rest of them in his new (hopefully) duds. He will likely arrive aboardships at about a quarter after sunup, scampering on board to make it *just* before he's late enough to be berated, but late enough that it's noticable. And then he will be ready to sail the briny seas!

Vemuz sees Malachi watching the slaves loading the ships. "They would make good tars on our ship, eh? Probably do the work of two men each, and they'd have good morale with their freedom won too I'd wager." He drops the comment almost casually as he continues his walk right past the half-orc.