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The Antigrol Tide (IC)
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<blockquote data-quote="Mallak" data-source="post: 2677920" data-attributes="member: 37105"><p><em>All things come to he who waits, on the Antigrol tide . . . </em> -- old Antigrol saying</p><p></p><p><em>The late afternoon sun beat down out of a clear blue sky on Captian Ben Turion of the merchant schooner </em>Pander Ban<em>, sailing from the great trade port of Antigrol. The Captain stood on the poop deck, a wide-brimmed black hat shading his eyes and his stout legs braced against the gentle roll of the waves. One hand rested casually on the tiller as he surveyed his crew. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Captain Ben was a frugal man who took very few risks. His ship wasn't the finest, but he owned her outright, and he took good care of her. Unfortunately, a spot of bad luck on his last run had forced him to hire a brand new crew in Antigrol. It was only the first day out of port, and he wasn't too sure about all of them yet. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The cabin door opened beneath him and he glanced down at his new first mate, a strange little fellow named Braerthalas Alathatka. He seemed young to look at him, but he was the best that could be found on short notice. The man was well spoken and knew his way around a ship. Quick, too, in both mind and body. Captain Ben had no doubt he'd make a fine officer. He watched at Braer stepped around the deck surveying the men at their tasks. Magyar Rhineholdt was bent over checking the sail lines. It turned out he didn't have near as much experience on a ship as he'd let on when hired; Captain Ben had seen it when the man first stepped on deck. However, he was a genial fellow and he pulled his own weight, so the Captain was content to keep him on. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Up above, perched as lookout at the top of the mast, was Denther Mosie. At first, he hadn't seemed the sailing type, but the young man was adament, and he'd proved to have the best eyes of the lot. Twice today he'd spotted sails in the distance. They were likely other merchants, like himself, but in this day and age you never knew, and Captain Ben was a cautious man. Then, too, there was the special nature of his cargo to consider, both that on the manifest and not.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>His eyes fell back to the deck where Braer was speaking to another man. Captain Ben's lips twisted in a slight grimace. Grondar was a thug if he'd ever seen one, and he'd never have hired the man if not for the same reason he had avoided those other ships. The sea just wasn't safe anymore. Fortunately, he'd been able to find some muscle with more experience. Troth Hulebor´n stood at the bow learning to mend sail from N’un T’Chauck. Troth was an odd lad; not the biggest, but definitely fierce. Captain Ben had taken him on the recommendation of an old sailing buddy, and so far Troth was working out well. The other one, Noonchuck, was the only member of his old crew to stay on. The big Northerner was young, but a knowledgeable sailor and an excellent shot with that harpoon he kept close at hand. If Captain Ben rembered correctly, Noonchuck was from one of the barbarian tribes of the frozen north, people who hunted whales from birth or some such. Looking at Noonchuck, Captain Ben could believe it. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Captain Ben's thoughts were broken as the final member of his crew came sauntering out of the cabin beneath him, singing. His hand brushed his beltpouch unconciously at the sight of the little gnome. Colmarr Blackrock was hired for his ability as a magician, but he seemed to think of himself more as an entertainer. Again, he was another that Captain Ben would never have hired under normal circumstances, but the elves and their magic changed things. He found he even enjoyed the little gnome's singing, as long as it didn't distract the men. They generally seemed truly heartened by it. Captain Ben still felt a bit uneasy about having him on board, though. After all, the gnomes did have a reputation.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>The sinking sun dipped under the brim of the Captain's dark hat and warmed his stubbled cheeks. They'd made good progress today, all things considered. At this rate, they'd make Tortila in a week, ten days at most. The daylight would hold for a bit longer, but Captain Ben began to turn the ship toward the coast. It wouldn't do to be caught on the ocean at night; best to find a safe, out of the way harbor where there was less chance of being spotted.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Below him on the deck, his men continued to go about their jobs and converse.</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mallak, post: 2677920, member: 37105"] [I]All things come to he who waits, on the Antigrol tide . . . [/I] -- old Antigrol saying [I]The late afternoon sun beat down out of a clear blue sky on Captian Ben Turion of the merchant schooner [/I]Pander Ban[I], sailing from the great trade port of Antigrol. The Captain stood on the poop deck, a wide-brimmed black hat shading his eyes and his stout legs braced against the gentle roll of the waves. One hand rested casually on the tiller as he surveyed his crew. Captain Ben was a frugal man who took very few risks. His ship wasn't the finest, but he owned her outright, and he took good care of her. Unfortunately, a spot of bad luck on his last run had forced him to hire a brand new crew in Antigrol. It was only the first day out of port, and he wasn't too sure about all of them yet. The cabin door opened beneath him and he glanced down at his new first mate, a strange little fellow named Braerthalas Alathatka. He seemed young to look at him, but he was the best that could be found on short notice. The man was well spoken and knew his way around a ship. Quick, too, in both mind and body. Captain Ben had no doubt he'd make a fine officer. He watched at Braer stepped around the deck surveying the men at their tasks. Magyar Rhineholdt was bent over checking the sail lines. It turned out he didn't have near as much experience on a ship as he'd let on when hired; Captain Ben had seen it when the man first stepped on deck. However, he was a genial fellow and he pulled his own weight, so the Captain was content to keep him on. Up above, perched as lookout at the top of the mast, was Denther Mosie. At first, he hadn't seemed the sailing type, but the young man was adament, and he'd proved to have the best eyes of the lot. Twice today he'd spotted sails in the distance. They were likely other merchants, like himself, but in this day and age you never knew, and Captain Ben was a cautious man. Then, too, there was the special nature of his cargo to consider, both that on the manifest and not. His eyes fell back to the deck where Braer was speaking to another man. Captain Ben's lips twisted in a slight grimace. Grondar was a thug if he'd ever seen one, and he'd never have hired the man if not for the same reason he had avoided those other ships. The sea just wasn't safe anymore. Fortunately, he'd been able to find some muscle with more experience. Troth Hulebor´n stood at the bow learning to mend sail from N’un T’Chauck. Troth was an odd lad; not the biggest, but definitely fierce. Captain Ben had taken him on the recommendation of an old sailing buddy, and so far Troth was working out well. The other one, Noonchuck, was the only member of his old crew to stay on. The big Northerner was young, but a knowledgeable sailor and an excellent shot with that harpoon he kept close at hand. If Captain Ben rembered correctly, Noonchuck was from one of the barbarian tribes of the frozen north, people who hunted whales from birth or some such. Looking at Noonchuck, Captain Ben could believe it. Captain Ben's thoughts were broken as the final member of his crew came sauntering out of the cabin beneath him, singing. His hand brushed his beltpouch unconciously at the sight of the little gnome. Colmarr Blackrock was hired for his ability as a magician, but he seemed to think of himself more as an entertainer. Again, he was another that Captain Ben would never have hired under normal circumstances, but the elves and their magic changed things. He found he even enjoyed the little gnome's singing, as long as it didn't distract the men. They generally seemed truly heartened by it. Captain Ben still felt a bit uneasy about having him on board, though. After all, the gnomes did have a reputation. The sinking sun dipped under the brim of the Captain's dark hat and warmed his stubbled cheeks. They'd made good progress today, all things considered. At this rate, they'd make Tortila in a week, ten days at most. The daylight would hold for a bit longer, but Captain Ben began to turn the ship toward the coast. It wouldn't do to be caught on the ocean at night; best to find a safe, out of the way harbor where there was less chance of being spotted. Below him on the deck, his men continued to go about their jobs and converse.[/I] [/QUOTE]
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