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<blockquote data-quote="Jarik" data-source="post: 3159394" data-attributes="member: 43936"><p>OOC: Its not much, but...</p><p></p><p></p><p> “How goes the study?” Sorriel asked approaching with that consciously feminine swagger which stirred even Kleethrope's withered nethers.</p><p></p><p> “Oh as usual dumpling, mind boggling secrets of transcendence ever fail to elude my feeble grasp.” With a sigh he closed his spell book, wrapping it tenderly in oilcloth before sealing it in a leather case. His brow furrowed, “Sorriel dear, I don't suppose you have any idea where I put my quill? I swear the blasted thing has a mind of its own, though I wouldn't put it past Stoatly to try an old man's patience....” </p><p></p><p> Sorriel smiled, she rather liked Kleethorpes, an amiable if slightly addled old fellow, though she suspected he played up his eccentricities to earn her attention. She lent down and plucked the quill from his bushy white beard handing it to him with a wink.</p><p></p><p> “By the Gods! How did it get there! Come here you cowardly weasel, was this your doing? I'll have no more of these shenanigans! If I find out this was your doing Stoatly that'll be it, no more brunch for you! You'll be on three meals a day!” The Wizard's beard parted revealing a sleek brown weasel – the aforementioned Stoatly – who yawned hugely, gave his Master a wounded look and leapt onto Sorriel's shoulder.</p><p></p><p> “Quite the little operator, this fellow.” Sorriel chuckled, scratching Stoatly's chin, as the weasel rubbed up against her neck. “I doubt it was Stoatly Kleethorpes, you did put it there yesterday, and the day before that, and well, you do it quite frequently.”</p><p></p><p> “Hmmm, well if you say so dear. The old memory's not quite what it once was, why I was telling Lily only yesterday..... Oh, well, oh....” Kleethorpes voice trailed away to nothing, and he seemed to shrink, his gray eyes sparkling with moisture. Stoatly sprang back to his Master's shoulder and began to nibble affectionately upon an earlobe, and Kleethorpes' gnarled hand was soon rubbing absent mindedly over his soft coat. The old Wizard swallowed, and smiled sadly, “I'm sorry Sorriel dear, I just, sometimes I forget she's not with me anymore – she was a wonderful woman my Lily, she would have liked you, very much.”</p><p></p><p> “I'm sorry Klee. Why don't we get you to bed, you'll feel better after a good nights sleep, we should be in Berrick tomorrow, so that's something to look forward to.”</p><p></p><p> “What? Oh, yes, yes, of course your right Sorriel dear. No more fish for us after tomorrow hey? I'm plum tired of the scaly blighters, give me a good slice of bacon any day.” Kleethorpes graciously allowed Sorriel to help him into his hammock, surreptitiously wiping his eyes. “Sleep well dear, your a nice young girl, and if that young man doesn't reciprocate your affection you send him to me, I'll set him straight!”</p><p></p><p> “Is it that obvious Klee?” Sorriel moaned, flushing, whilst covering up the old wizard with his blanket. Stoatly nestled contentedly into his beard.</p><p></p><p> Kleethorpes yawned, his eyes half closed, “Don't you worry dear, he's not got a clue, nice lad but couldn't take a hint if it was gift wrapped.” With that Kleethorpes' eyes closed and he began to snore gentilely.</p><p></p><p> Sorriel kissed him on the forehead, before retiring to her own hammock, her mind wandering – embarrassingly quickly – to Rellen's guileless smile.</p><p></p><p> Moan having departed, presumably headed for his hammock, Rellen surveyed the deck, nodding warmly to Captain Smillov. The Captain nodded in return and approached, </p><p></p><p> “Eager to be done with this voyage I would warrant Master Marn.” He said, smiling that peculiarly infectious smile of his.</p><p></p><p> “It has been as smooth a voyage as I could ask for Captain, but I must admit I'll be glad to have solid ground beneath my feet again.”</p><p></p><p> “No harm in that my friend, its not every man who's cut out to be a sailor. So where to from here, if you will excuse my curiosity?”</p><p></p><p> “I would be happy to tell you Captain, but I'm not sure myself. Heronious will watch over me, and test me as he sees fit.”</p><p></p><p> “Faith is a fine thing Rellen, but don't let it swallow you, remember you are still a man. There are things besides gods in this world, and even Heronious wouldn't begrudge you a little fun.”</p><p></p><p> “I'm not sure I follow you Captain.”</p><p></p><p> “You must know by now that Sorriel has an eye on you boy. She's practically throwing herself at you.”</p><p></p><p> “Now see here Captain! I will not have you besmirching Miss Larkstongue's good name with your baseless vulgarities.”</p><p></p><p> “Have it your way Master Marn, but I for one say never look a gift horse in the mouth.” So saying Smillov turned and walked back to his cabin, chuckling.</p><p></p><p> Rellen watched him go regretfully, wishing he could have asked the Captain's advice. He would never admit it, but few things terrified him more than a pretty girl, and Sorriel was more than pretty. Prayer soothed him somewhat, and thus fortified he made his way back to the hold and his hammock.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p></p><p> The Rapier Wit arrived in Berrick slightly ahead of schedule, a good tail wind having aided her progress through the night. The Wit's four passengers bid her crew farewell, gathered their meager possessions and made their way across the gang plank onto Berrick's bustling dock.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Jarik, post: 3159394, member: 43936"] OOC: Its not much, but... “How goes the study?” Sorriel asked approaching with that consciously feminine swagger which stirred even Kleethrope's withered nethers. “Oh as usual dumpling, mind boggling secrets of transcendence ever fail to elude my feeble grasp.” With a sigh he closed his spell book, wrapping it tenderly in oilcloth before sealing it in a leather case. His brow furrowed, “Sorriel dear, I don't suppose you have any idea where I put my quill? I swear the blasted thing has a mind of its own, though I wouldn't put it past Stoatly to try an old man's patience....” Sorriel smiled, she rather liked Kleethorpes, an amiable if slightly addled old fellow, though she suspected he played up his eccentricities to earn her attention. She lent down and plucked the quill from his bushy white beard handing it to him with a wink. “By the Gods! How did it get there! Come here you cowardly weasel, was this your doing? I'll have no more of these shenanigans! If I find out this was your doing Stoatly that'll be it, no more brunch for you! You'll be on three meals a day!” The Wizard's beard parted revealing a sleek brown weasel – the aforementioned Stoatly – who yawned hugely, gave his Master a wounded look and leapt onto Sorriel's shoulder. “Quite the little operator, this fellow.” Sorriel chuckled, scratching Stoatly's chin, as the weasel rubbed up against her neck. “I doubt it was Stoatly Kleethorpes, you did put it there yesterday, and the day before that, and well, you do it quite frequently.” “Hmmm, well if you say so dear. The old memory's not quite what it once was, why I was telling Lily only yesterday..... Oh, well, oh....” Kleethorpes voice trailed away to nothing, and he seemed to shrink, his gray eyes sparkling with moisture. Stoatly sprang back to his Master's shoulder and began to nibble affectionately upon an earlobe, and Kleethorpes' gnarled hand was soon rubbing absent mindedly over his soft coat. The old Wizard swallowed, and smiled sadly, “I'm sorry Sorriel dear, I just, sometimes I forget she's not with me anymore – she was a wonderful woman my Lily, she would have liked you, very much.” “I'm sorry Klee. Why don't we get you to bed, you'll feel better after a good nights sleep, we should be in Berrick tomorrow, so that's something to look forward to.” “What? Oh, yes, yes, of course your right Sorriel dear. No more fish for us after tomorrow hey? I'm plum tired of the scaly blighters, give me a good slice of bacon any day.” Kleethorpes graciously allowed Sorriel to help him into his hammock, surreptitiously wiping his eyes. “Sleep well dear, your a nice young girl, and if that young man doesn't reciprocate your affection you send him to me, I'll set him straight!” “Is it that obvious Klee?” Sorriel moaned, flushing, whilst covering up the old wizard with his blanket. Stoatly nestled contentedly into his beard. Kleethorpes yawned, his eyes half closed, “Don't you worry dear, he's not got a clue, nice lad but couldn't take a hint if it was gift wrapped.” With that Kleethorpes' eyes closed and he began to snore gentilely. Sorriel kissed him on the forehead, before retiring to her own hammock, her mind wandering – embarrassingly quickly – to Rellen's guileless smile. Moan having departed, presumably headed for his hammock, Rellen surveyed the deck, nodding warmly to Captain Smillov. The Captain nodded in return and approached, “Eager to be done with this voyage I would warrant Master Marn.” He said, smiling that peculiarly infectious smile of his. “It has been as smooth a voyage as I could ask for Captain, but I must admit I'll be glad to have solid ground beneath my feet again.” “No harm in that my friend, its not every man who's cut out to be a sailor. So where to from here, if you will excuse my curiosity?” “I would be happy to tell you Captain, but I'm not sure myself. Heronious will watch over me, and test me as he sees fit.” “Faith is a fine thing Rellen, but don't let it swallow you, remember you are still a man. There are things besides gods in this world, and even Heronious wouldn't begrudge you a little fun.” “I'm not sure I follow you Captain.” “You must know by now that Sorriel has an eye on you boy. She's practically throwing herself at you.” “Now see here Captain! I will not have you besmirching Miss Larkstongue's good name with your baseless vulgarities.” “Have it your way Master Marn, but I for one say never look a gift horse in the mouth.” So saying Smillov turned and walked back to his cabin, chuckling. Rellen watched him go regretfully, wishing he could have asked the Captain's advice. He would never admit it, but few things terrified him more than a pretty girl, and Sorriel was more than pretty. Prayer soothed him somewhat, and thus fortified he made his way back to the hold and his hammock. *** The Rapier Wit arrived in Berrick slightly ahead of schedule, a good tail wind having aided her progress through the night. The Wit's four passengers bid her crew farewell, gathered their meager possessions and made their way across the gang plank onto Berrick's bustling dock. [/QUOTE]
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