Deep Water and Shoals II

[Bob Aberton]

Jonah,

Lupe frowns for a moment, but then brightens up and flashes you a toothy grin.

"Very well, we talk again when we make Port Andorra. You keep it in mind, hey?"

He gathers up the map and replaces the knife in its sheath, and walks out the door to resume his duties.

Vemuz,

You hear Lupe tell Jonah to "keep it in mind," then he strides out the door. Straight into you, in fact. The way he bounces off of your massive frame is rather amusing to see.

"Apologies, Mr. Thrice-born," he says cautiously. In his hands he is holding a tattered map and a knife that you saw on the voyage to Standishtown from Hull - the knife with the words "BLACK MAST" engraved on its hilt.

(OOC: You heard everything that was said since you first stated you were listening in.)

Malthas,

The Orcs promptly set to thrashing at each other for an hour or so. At first, they fight hesitantly, but once their fighting blood is up they set-to with a fury. All bear large collections of nicks and bruises, and most have by now cast away their cutlasses and are rolling about on the pitching deck, grappling and punching. You noticed that none had even rudimentary form with their blades, save Anansai of the Nbantii; they all used their cutlasses either as very short spears or as very sharp clubs. They are, however, formidable if untrained fighters.

Nicodemus,

"We'll talk more about this when we make port, shall we?" Weaver says, draining her last cup of tea. "Port Andorra bein' their base of operations, as it were. Thank y' for the tea."

She gets up and leaves with a cheery salute.

 

[dead_radish]

Malthas sighs, and watches the brawls, grinning slightly. After the orcs wander off, he approaches Anansai. "Your fellows, they fight very well. But they fight with their fists, not their weapons. Effective, but not what we're after. Perhaps later, we could work on your forms, and you could show your fellows?"

 

[Uriel]

Nicodemus,

"We'll talk more about this when we make port, shall we?" Weaver says, draining her last cup of tea. "Port Andorra bein' their base of operations, as it were. Thank y' for the tea."

She gets up and leaves with a cheery salute.

Nic smiles and returns Ms. Weaver's salute, saying Aye, when we reach Port, Ms. Weaver...'
After the woman had gone, Nicodemus returned to work, turning the Quarters once more into a mixture of small explosions, cursing and Artimus' alarmed howls.

 

[kenjib]

Vemuz,

You hear Lupe tell Jonah to "keep it in mind," then he strides out the door. Straight into you, in fact. The way he bounces off of your massive frame is rather amusing to see.

"Apologies, Mr. Thrice-born," he says cautiously. In his hands he is holding a tattered map and a knife that you saw on the voyage to Standishtown from Hull - the knife with the words "BLACK MAST" engraved on its hilt.

Vemuz pretends to scarcely notice, grunting acknowledgement with a quick "Mr. Sanchez" as he 'continues' down the ship toward the hold. In truth, his mind is reeling.

*Damnable looters and thieves. That is my grandfather's ship...my ship. That is my gold!*

As soon as Lupe is out of sight he snaps the head off of the idol he has been carving and dashes the pieces against the wall. It's leering face is left to stare vacantly at it's own disconnected body as Vemuz storms off.

 

[Tonguez]

"Evenin', Mr. Legba," the Captain says. "Y'r just in time t' take an evenin' sight, if y' would be so kind. Y've recovered from y'r Standishtown adventures, then?"

"Yassir" the Half-orc grins "recovar'd well. Ah hopes dhe new crewmin ar shapin' up satisfory too" he looks around to see where they might be

"gud t'see we'is makin gud way fram Standis'ton

Righ' yu-ar" he continues as he goes to take the readings from his usual position lining the horizon and the zenith stars and consulting his gear

(OOC: Profession: Navigation check rolled 9+9=18 )

 

[Bob Aberton]

Malthas,

"Aye, sar," the Orc replies. "Dat would be ver' good. You teach me an' I teach dem, yas?"

Jonah,

A few moments after Lupe leaves, you hear the voice of Mr. Thriceborn, the boatswain, greeting him curtly. Another moment, and you hear a loud crash as something is hurled with great force against the bulkhead, and angry footsteps retreating away in the direction of the fore-hold and boatswain's locker.

Vemuz,

As you storm off in the general direction of the boatswain's locker and fore-hold, the few men you encounter on the way are not foolish enough to stop, but instead retreat at the thunderous look on your face.

Mr. Lang, however, does stop you.

"Mr. Thriceborn," he says, meeting your eye in his usual cool and precise manner, "The Captain wishes to speak to you at your earliest convenience. If the Orcish hands are finished with their small arms drill, you could set them to work on the fore-rigging - the shrouds are still a touch more slack than they should be. By the way, Orville has finished with the running rigging on the foredeck and is currently inspecting and coiling the spare rope in the boatswain's locker. I assume he was sogering on duty again?"

 

[kenjib]

"Mr. Thriceborn," he says, meeting your eye in his usual cool and precise manner, "The Captain wishes to speak to you at your earliest convenience. If the Orcish hands are finished with their small arms drill, you could set them to work on the fore-rigging - the shrouds are still a touch more slack than they should be.

"Aye Mr. Lang, sir," Vemuz replies, trying to quickly regain his composure.

By the way, Orville has finished with the running rigging on the foredeck and is currently inspecting and coiling the spare rope in the boatswain's locker. I assume he was sogering on duty again?"

Vemuz lowers his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "Aye he was, Mr. Lang. That one is trouble. Mark my words. I've had my eye on him from the start and I tell you that no good will come of that one."

 

[dead_radish]

Malthas nods. "I would be much obliged, sir. Naturally, I will still train you and the other men as well. Working together, I'm sure we can get you new tars ready to defend her Grace in no time at all." Malthas smiles. "And naturally, I would be grateful for your help - shall we say an extra silver a week for the aid?" (OOC: I want that to be a fair price - nothing near what he makes now, but maybe 15% or so extra, above his normal pay. If needed, adjust accordingly. )

 

[Bob Aberton]

(OOC All: Sorry for my lack of posting. Has anyone else noticed that the boards are logging them off when they try to post? I've been trying to get on for a week or so, but I've been having the same problem.)

Malthas,

Anansai's eyes widen at the thought of the extra silver. He has little experience with very much money, being used to working hard for nothing but a meal, a roof, and clothing.

"Yas, sar, I do that, I helps you. Dhey'll learn right quick, sar."

Vemuz,

"Yes, I will grant you that, Mr. Thriceborn," says Mr. Lang. "He is the proverbial bad apple. Still, he is not as bad as some men I have shipped with in the past; he is neither a mutineer nor a murderer, only a soger and a drunk. I have a mind that 'hazing' him might do some good - keep him as busy as you can, run him by the Townsend Catechism, perhaps that will keep him out of trouble."

(OOC: "Hazing" in this instance just means assigned extra-onerous work duties as much as possible. The Townsend Catechism was inspired by Dana's "Philadelphia Catechism" - "Six days thou shalt labor and do all that thou art able, and on the seventh, holystone the decks and scrape the cable.")

 

[kenjib]

"Aye Mr. Lang, sir. I'll keep hard on top of him."

If that is all, Vemuz turns and finds one of the more reliable hands on duty and assigns him to work with the orcs on the fore-rigging. He then locates the captain and approaches him. "Captain, sir, I've set the men to the fore-rigging at your command. I know they're a bit green, sir, but I promise they'll be worth the trouble in no time. Will there be anything else?"