Deep Water and Shoals II

[dead_radish]

Malthas shakes his head as the rum flows out. "It is a damned shame, that - still, if we end up in his arms later on, it might help to have somethin' ta drink, eh?"

Malthas considers the question. "Andorra, eh? Aye, once. It was one of my first voyages, in fact - under a captain...What was his name? Bye? Blinn? Something or that sort. He was a fair captain, but none too clever - iff'n I hadn't been a green ship's hand, more likely to lean the rail than to climb the ropes, I mighta noticed more - as it were, I think I was just happy I was alive at the end of each day." He laughs. "Not very different from now, that part. It was that ship that I got m'cutlass and red Aeolith here." He gestures to one of the three circles tattoo'ed beneath his eye. "A group of Iberran pirates thought our ship would make a good salvage, e'en though she was still afloat. I think there were only 12 of us that came off that ship when we reached Andorra...."

Malthas rubs introspectively at a small scar on his left forearm.

 

[kenjib]

Vemuz,

The taller of the two answers for both of them.

"De master, he used to call me 'Obediah,' when he didn' call me lazy crowbait, Mr. Thriceborn. Dis fellow, he's my brother, he's called Thomas." he flushes noticeably for a moment. "We doesn' have no other names, we was taken when we was just pikneys. Our old master, he was sea captain, 'fore he sold us. We learned dha ways of dha sea from 'im."

"Well done. Carry on." Vemuz turns away, leaving them to their work.

 

[Bob Aberton]

Malthas,

"I knew a Cap'n Blinns," Captain McCrenshaw says, squinting into the sun. "Friendliest fellow you ever saw, but the figurehead o' his ship had more t' th' topriggin' than he did, if y' see what I mean. Always wondered how he got command o' such a fine ship. 'Pears to me his ship, th' ELIZA MARIE - thet were her name, I think - were lost off th' Isle o' the Twice-born a year 'r to ago. Haven't spoken with him since then, though I seem t' recall he survived th' wreck.

It's true the waters we're sailin' into 're lousy with pirates, but then again, put cutlasses in th' hands o' those Orcish hands an' I've a feelin' it'll be the pirates as'll be limpin' into port with a bare dozen hands, eh?"

Nicodemus,

The sailmaker enters, carrying a glass bottle of something alcoholic, likely brandy by its color, and plunks it down on the table.

"Heard old Spit'n'Polish Lang's a bit put out with you, Mr. Arfaliunium. What did you an' your wild friends do this time? Some local fellows address you indelicately in a grog-shop again, hey?" She chuckles easily and fills up two glasses. "And these new hands of ours. Crew's been talking considerable and actually saying precious little. Thought I'd bypass the scuttlebutt, as it were. This here's out of my own private stash. Good stuff, isn't it?"

Vemuz,

As you turn away from the Orcs, you see Arthur Orville reclining at ease on a coil of spare line on the forecastle. He yawns indolently and gazes up at the clouds. He appears not to have noticed you yet.

Malachi,

(OOC: I recently acquired a scanner, so I've made a couple of hand drawn charts of The World to use for props for the navigation and all. I'll email them as soon as I can.)

 

[Uriel]

Nicodemus,

The sailmaker enters, carrying a glass bottle of something alcoholic, likely brandy by its color, and plunks it down on the table.

"Heard old Spit'n'Polish Lang's a bit put out with you, Mr. Arfaliunium. What did you an' your wild friends do this time? Some local fellows address you indelicately in a grog-shop again, hey?" She chuckles easily and fills up two glasses. "And these new hands of ours. Crew's been talking considerable and actually saying precious little. Thought I'd bypass the scuttlebutt, as it were. This here's out of my own private stash. Good stuff, isn't it?"

Taking out a box of chocolates that Artimus hadn't yet found, Nico smiles at the Sailmaker 'Aye, Miss Weaver.Truth-b-Known, we deserves a bit of Mr. Lang's ire. Thet poor feller'll have a broke heart and a vein on is head of a size to make me ol' pappy a rich man If'n it were filled wit Gold by the time this voyage is done.He seems a good sort. Takes one o'thm officers on ev'ry ship to keep Order, it does, an I can't fault 'im fer it none. His twin on the last ship was a right Kraken by comparrison, a Grey Elf they'd like ta see ya scrubbin the barnacles wit sharks nipping at yer heels as soon as have ye say 'G'Day Sir' to him in the morning. He did run a tight ship, though, as everyone was afeared of his lash. At least Mr. lang only uses his tongue...
As far as whut we did...We sort of grabbed a few volunteers in an unorthodox manner. Let's just say that them Orcish lads wuz just abaot done with their other job and we just happened ta need a few hands. Right odd bit of Luck that wuz, Calypso be praised.'
Nico keeps a straight face as much as he can <Will save result 21>, although a slight chuckle escapes when he came to the part about his unorthodox manner of recruiting hands.

edit:spelling

 

[dead_radish]

Malthas nods. "Aye, the Eliza Marie. That it was.... I can't say as I'm surprised to hear the ship was wrecked, but it is a shame. I remember her being a beautiful ship, one that I would have given much to own myself someday.... Isle o' the Twice-born, eh? Seems like it wouldn't be that hard to track a man from there, if you knew his circumstances...." He gets a faraway look on his face for a moment, then grins, pulling out his flask, and takes a drink. "To old memories, and new crews, and putting a holy terror in the hearts of pirates, eh?" The statements seems a bit incongrous, coming from someone as young looking as Malthas, but it seems heartfelt all the same.

 

[Tonguez]

After sacraments and sleep Malachi once more surveyed the Charts before him. South southeast was the heading to Port Andorra, gainst the mid ocean current but keeping the Nor'east trade winds abeam should help them make time. Of course there was still the dangers of the Doldrums to contend with and who but the gods knew what that could entail

"Water, water every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deep did rot: O lord!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimey things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimey sea"

 

[kenjib]

Vemuz,

As you turn away from the Orcs, you see Arthur Orville reclining at ease on a coil of spare line on the forecastle. He yawns indolently and gazes up at the clouds. He appears not to have noticed you yet.

Vemuz quickly shifts direction and heads around the foremast to come up the stairs behind Arthur Orville. He leans against the handrail and waits for several minutes. Still having not been noticed, Vemuz pulls out the crude totem he has been carving and continues his work, his small knife scraping against the wood and small chips spilling across the deck. Leering eyes, fangs, and a protruding tongue have appeared from the shapeless mass.

 

[Bob Aberton]

Vemuz,

Orville leaps into the air with a half-shouted oath upon hearing the sound of your knife upon the wood. Seeing the source of the sound does not put him anymore at ease. He fidgets nervously.

"Er, er, no sign o' weakness in this rope, sir, checked it thoroughly," he stammers, attempting to brazen it out.

Malthas,

"Aye, well, we'll be passin' by there like as not on our way t' Cape Tempestuoso. 'Course, who knows where old Blinns is now? Doubt he'd be able t' get much higher than a second mate's birth, having lost his ship th' way he did and all."

He draws a cup of water from the scuttlebutt and raises the tin pannikin in toast. "Aye, t' new crews an' old memories an' fear in th' hearts o' pirates. Speakin' o' which, d'you think y' could start drillin' th' hands in small arms an' th' like pretty soon. Pirate latitudes comin' up, an' all."

Nicodemus,

"Aye, he ain't a 'Bucko' by any means. For all the starch in his collar, he's a good man. I heard him talkin' to the Captain, you know, about the lash. Now when the Captain was a foremast Jack he served in the Navy a bit, and he probably got a taste of the lash. Well, he made some remark about it, and Mr. Lang says, in his usual stiff voice, 'the type of men that use the lash with any regularity are the kind that are incapable of commanding men without it.' There's the measure of Lang for you."

When you finish your story about the Orcish hands, Weaver chuckles merrily.

"Best yarn I've heard since we hove into that mudhole. There'll be some soreheaded clamdiggers by now, I'll wager. Heheh, if only we could get crews that easily anywhere, eh? How d'you stand on the principle of Orc slavery, Mr. Arfaliunium, anyway?"

Malachi,

(OOC: Fortunately the GRACE has a harpooner aboard for when the slimy things start crawling. That poem makes for good inspiration, I warn you )

 

[Uriel]

Sipping his drink, Nico nods and says toMiss Weaver 'Aye, ye could say that I am a'gin Slavery, of any Folk. My people 'ave been the unfortunate objcts of a Slaver's Eye before and we take very unkindly ta it, I kin tell'ya.'

 

[dead_radish]

Malthas chuckles. "Indeed. P'rhpas we'll run across him, and can hire him on as a cabin boy, eh? He could do a lot worse than to learn from a man like you, Sir." He gazes over the wheel, down to where the orcish hands are working, and shakes his head. "That lot'll be an interesting lot to train, make no mistake. I think I may start with wooden swords for them. Should I clear time with Mr. Lang again, or just begin flailin' about?" He winks.