H.M.Gimlord
Explorer
Fenwick and Jin exchange stories to pass the time as The Gale pulls out of Daunton's harbor and makes for the open sea. She appears to be setting a south-southwesterly heading. To the adventuring party, the ocean is a mystifying scene, a wet desert whose shifting dunes are represented by billowing waves and whose storms threaten to scar the skin with rain to an even worse degree than tiny beads of sand. It is with this realization that it dawns on them how vast and deep the ocean is.
Food is no problem on The Gale. Livestock are not only part of the cargo, but also part of the price for shipment of goods. Fresh meat is not a nightly affair, but common enough that not even hold crew has to resort to hard tack.
The first week passes uneventfully, though the advent of bad weather is inevitable on the high seas. On the eighth day of the voyage, The Gale runs headlong into a wall cloud that tosses the ship like a tiny wooden plank. Before the rain comes, it can be seen from a distance as a hazy smear underneath massive thunderclouds. This vision gives the crew ample warning to don lamb-skin slickers coated in lanolin. These are also handed to Jin, Fenwick, Talon, and Riardon. At words from the Eladrin boatswain, the crew quickly furl the sails, all except for two small jibs at the very back. These are actually square in shape and different from those seen on most of the vessels that Riardon can recall.
Dayna is left to fend for herself. Some of the crew suggest keeping her locked in a pen below deck, but at Fargo's insistence, they grudgingly allow her free passage through the craft. At first, Talon is offended by the behavior of the dwarves toward Dayna. They treat her as no more than a common animal, and some even fail to veil seething resentment that a wolf is allowed on board (wolves often remind dwarves of worgs, which in turn remind them of goblins and orcs - not altogether a pleasant thought to a dwarf), but after a few days he realizes that there are some hundred dwarves aboard, and it would be useless to change the culture.
As the craft moves into the storm, the sea quickly turns from a glassy calm to an undulating irregularity, much like a bed sheet that one takes out to shake off the dirt. Corners of the ocean heave up, leaving deep depressions, the relative height of which dwarfs (no pun intended) even the massive bulk of The Gale. More times than Fenwick would like to see, the bow of massive teak ship pierces the heart of a rogue wave sending a flood down the deck, running off through the drains under the deck rails. Rain mercilessly pounds anyone unfortunate enough to have duty on the deck (which is more than half the crew at any rate). The pilot proves himself skilled behind the wheel, and laughs maniacally every time the waves wash over the deck as if he dares the sea to try again. At the climax of impact, the crew cheers as if watching some circus performer breathing fire. Though they all seem to be tempting fate, the ship always comes back out in one piece, as if even the gods acquiesce to their will.
After three days of storm (and a considerable amount of nausea on the part of Talon, who often finds himself leaning over the rail - or sometimes not quite making it to the rail) the waves grow quiet, and the air becames much warmer, creating a fog that rolls low over the water, obscuring the surface from view. If not for the darkness, one would swear that they were all on an air-ship sailing through the clouds.
Fargo now reappears from his work with the crew to check on the party's status after the storm, "An 'ow'd'ee waythar th' starm. A bute she be far shar bye thundar!" the dwarf laughs jovially and slaps Talon on the back (though he has to reach up to do so), "Gettin' yar sealegs yet?" [sblock=Translation]"And how'd you weather the storm. A beaut she be by thunder!" the dwarf laughs jovially and slaps Talon on the back (though he has to reach up to do so), "Getting your sea-legs yet?"[/sblock]
Food is no problem on The Gale. Livestock are not only part of the cargo, but also part of the price for shipment of goods. Fresh meat is not a nightly affair, but common enough that not even hold crew has to resort to hard tack.
The first week passes uneventfully, though the advent of bad weather is inevitable on the high seas. On the eighth day of the voyage, The Gale runs headlong into a wall cloud that tosses the ship like a tiny wooden plank. Before the rain comes, it can be seen from a distance as a hazy smear underneath massive thunderclouds. This vision gives the crew ample warning to don lamb-skin slickers coated in lanolin. These are also handed to Jin, Fenwick, Talon, and Riardon. At words from the Eladrin boatswain, the crew quickly furl the sails, all except for two small jibs at the very back. These are actually square in shape and different from those seen on most of the vessels that Riardon can recall.
Dayna is left to fend for herself. Some of the crew suggest keeping her locked in a pen below deck, but at Fargo's insistence, they grudgingly allow her free passage through the craft. At first, Talon is offended by the behavior of the dwarves toward Dayna. They treat her as no more than a common animal, and some even fail to veil seething resentment that a wolf is allowed on board (wolves often remind dwarves of worgs, which in turn remind them of goblins and orcs - not altogether a pleasant thought to a dwarf), but after a few days he realizes that there are some hundred dwarves aboard, and it would be useless to change the culture.
As the craft moves into the storm, the sea quickly turns from a glassy calm to an undulating irregularity, much like a bed sheet that one takes out to shake off the dirt. Corners of the ocean heave up, leaving deep depressions, the relative height of which dwarfs (no pun intended) even the massive bulk of The Gale. More times than Fenwick would like to see, the bow of massive teak ship pierces the heart of a rogue wave sending a flood down the deck, running off through the drains under the deck rails. Rain mercilessly pounds anyone unfortunate enough to have duty on the deck (which is more than half the crew at any rate). The pilot proves himself skilled behind the wheel, and laughs maniacally every time the waves wash over the deck as if he dares the sea to try again. At the climax of impact, the crew cheers as if watching some circus performer breathing fire. Though they all seem to be tempting fate, the ship always comes back out in one piece, as if even the gods acquiesce to their will.
After three days of storm (and a considerable amount of nausea on the part of Talon, who often finds himself leaning over the rail - or sometimes not quite making it to the rail) the waves grow quiet, and the air becames much warmer, creating a fog that rolls low over the water, obscuring the surface from view. If not for the darkness, one would swear that they were all on an air-ship sailing through the clouds.
Fargo now reappears from his work with the crew to check on the party's status after the storm, "An 'ow'd'ee waythar th' starm. A bute she be far shar bye thundar!" the dwarf laughs jovially and slaps Talon on the back (though he has to reach up to do so), "Gettin' yar sealegs yet?" [sblock=Translation]"And how'd you weather the storm. A beaut she be by thunder!" the dwarf laughs jovially and slaps Talon on the back (though he has to reach up to do so), "Getting your sea-legs yet?"[/sblock]
