Welcome Aboard Ye Landlubbers! [OPEN]

[NightWind]

Vladimir shrugged non-committaly at his being labeled a "good man"- 'He'll learn,' he thought with a snicker- and watched in silence as the yellow first mate shimmied down the rigging with all the grace and dexterity of a chipmunk. "Rigging?" He said in response to Chris' question, "Reckon I knows me a fair 'and on ropes. Worked a ship a'fore, I 'ave. Mind ya, t'was a river craft, but I reckon the ropes be much the same." He said with another shrug.

[GoblinFae]

"Drop the Miss, Plyth, it's Quartermaster or Sir. I didn't work this hard to become first mate so that I could have some snot-nosed pipsqueak like you calling me Miss. Next I know one of you will be calling me mommy. So can you actually do anything Demon-boy or do you just like repeating your name over and over to me? That's the second time you've told me it and yet you've done nothing else since arriving. Have you even worked on a ship before? Have any of you?" she growled, raising her voice as she looked about at the other men in their various states of activity.

"And Canner," she bit out, glaring down the lollygagger leaning across the rail. "I send you to work and you stare off towards land? If you're homesick already boy, go home! I don't need crybabies missing their mamas aboard this ship. Is that understood? Both of you?"

She was angry alright. There were far too many youngsters aboard and all of them greenhorns. Scanning about, she caught sight of the doctor and rolled her eyes. 'He'll be out of supplies before we even leave port.' Looking further, her hard gaze rested on the mutt and Cateye. 'Even those that aren't so wet behind the ears are concerning. This is going to take a lot of work. Cateye and Eli better know what they hell they're doing or I'll tan all their hides! I don't have time to be making boys into men when we head out to sea. Sure hope they can learn fast.'

[Dreamwolf]

Cane didn't flinch when he was scolded for looking out over the land. "I was born on a ship, raised on ships and have served as crew on ships bigger than this since I was fifteen, I'm a born sailor, my whole family is. I just don't like the idea of being fisherman for the rest of my life."

He was young, and a little stupid, but he was at least honest, something rare in ocean going men. He' work just as hard as everyone else, harder even, but only until he'd finished his contract. he had been smart in one way at least, he'd only signed on for one voyage to start.

[Winters-Feather]

Chris considered Vladimir's answer. Certainly wasn't the best and he already had men that could do the job, but he wanted to test the new men out. River crafts were hardly anything compared to an ocean ship like this, so it might even be harder to teach Vladimir a whole new set of thinking ,but at least he would be familiar with some of the same knots and techniques. That was enough, for now.
"Fine," he responded.
He could have jumped off from where he was, but Chris just waited until he was a little above the ground before hopping off. Showing off would be unseemly and unnecessary.
"Then I want you up here, looking for frayed lines. But first kindly go get a kit. It's in the hold. Get on it."

He made his way towards Morgan and the men and boys who have yet to earn their sea legs on the chalice. Chris had no doubt Morgan had everything under her control- her irritation and shouting of comands displayed her composure-  but he figured that it was only polite to help out where he could. He arrived in time to hear the end of Cane's story.
"Boy," he called out, towards Cane.
"Save the story swapping for later, we've work to be done."
He turned towards a nearby swabbie, a small boy of fifteen who had been on the ship for a few months. Chris believed the Adelan lad went by the name of Finn. If he need Vladimir on the ropes, somebody had to clean the ship's sides.
"Mr. Finn, kindly take this one to go clean barnacles and grime off of the ship."
The man arched a brow in Sky's direction. A flash of serious concern flashed in his good eye.
"Perhaps you'll wish to have this one on duty, too?" he asked Morgan with a knowing smirk.
The task wouldn't be too complicated, but tedious enough to keep him out of her hair.

[zozee9]

It didn't sting at all, but Sky didn't say anything. However, she was interested on what he said about magic. With widened eyes, she looked at her hand. It was true—the cut was completely healed. Her eyes getting even bigger, she looked up at the magic doctor and asked, "What did ya do? Is it real magic? Will ya teach me? Please?" Her eyes went back to her hand, then back to him, then back to her hand. "It looks like magic."

Then, taking a second to think, Sky realized that she didn't really know much about medicine. She had heard that it could work miracles. And without the money to pay for treatment, she hadn't ever truly witnessed any healing happen. But she decided that even if it was just science, she still wanted to know how to do it. If it could heal like it did, then she was satisfied. It wasn't nearly as cool as fighting magic, but it was still amazing. And it might still be magic anyway.

With all these thoughts running through her head, she didn't hear her name even with her great hearing. Luckily for Sky, the flower man wasn't actually talking to her.

[NightWind]

Vladimir jerked his chin up slightly in assent. "Aye." With that he turned on his heel and strode to the supply cabin. Looking about, he quickly spotted what he was looking for- a ball of fine, tough twine and a coil of ropes for those that needed replacing rather than repair, among other items useful to his current endeavor. Shrugging his gear and guitar case off his shoulder, he propped them in the corner, slinging the rope about his chest in their stead- and with that, he was off to work.
  It was a short trip back to the rigging's base, and from there he scrambled up more quickly than carefully. Nearing the top, he lost his balance for a moment and swung his arms rapidly, snagging the ropes just in time- the swaying of ships was much more pronounced on the sea, it would seem. "Like'n these bloody boots ain't helpin'. Too clumsy fer line work..." He pulled one off and studied it for a moment. The laces were frayed almost to the point of uselessness, there was a hole in the toe, not to mention in both the heel and ball of his left boot. The right sole was almost entirely gone, with only ragged leather scraps clinging to the arch. "Bleedin' rubbish anyway." The pirate grunted, sending first one, then the other boot sailing into the ocean with the rest of the garbage that always seemed to collect in the swells of port towns. Besides, bare feet and leather wraps provided better grip on wet timbers.
  One problem solved, another to go, he began to shimmy along the ropes checking the stress points as he went. Occasionally he'd mend the frayed spot there, check for tightness here, making sure all the pulleys and eyelets were oiled and positioned correctly. Vladimir noticed the knot that was the subject of Hans' miserable chewing-out. Also noticed it was just the same as when the doctor had tied it, despite the first mate making the appearance of indignation. "Ol' limey prick." He chuckled good-naturedly, continuing with his inspection and splicing the frayed ends where they needed it.

[Dreamwolf]

Cane sighed at the mentioned of barnacles. He hated scraping barnacles, but he was good at it. When you hated a job enough you learned ways to end it quickly. He gathered ropes and fashioned a sling, rappelling over the sides with the scraper in hand he began chiseling at a steady pace, he didn't even wait for the swabbie. He worked in a grid pattern, focusing on one spot at a time.

[Thief]

Damon had no experience on a ship, but he was a quick learner. He really needed the job, and would be more than happy to do the work expected of him. Though not great at anything in particular, he was good at most anything he tried. Wearing his most confident face, he said,"I have never worked on board a ship before, but I'm eager to help out where I can. Just let me know where I'm needed and I'll go to work."

[GoblinFae]

Morgan's hand tightened on the bouquet of flowers in frustration. If it was not for Chris's foresight of the storm that was brewing within her, there would have been significantly fewer crew members aboard the ship once the captain returned.

The very thought of the absent captain and the darkening sky was enough to rekindle her ire. Shaking the flowers in Plyth's face she growled. "You grab the runt and get to work with Canner. I catch any of you lot lollygagging and you'll be scraping barnacles off the seafloor. "

Shocked registered on her face as she caught sight of what she was brandishing. She fell silent, unaware if her orders were followed through with as her eyes blinked in surprise at the bouquet.

"Cateye!" Morgan barked, "Heed me, I have need of you."

[Thief]

Damon was startled when she swung the flowers into his face. Although, it must have surprised her too, judging by the look she gave him. "Yes sir," he replied to her command, and quickly walked off to begin his work.

Damon approached the man he was to be working with. "Hello. Canner was it? I'm Damon. How can I help?"

[Zane]

(OOC: sorry for the massive delay! >.<)

Hans still had a light but firm grasp on the boy's wrist, something seemed off about to boy. His muscular structure in the wrist was uncommon for a boy his age, it was common in females around his age and up. Another thing was the skeletal structure of the boy, his hips were a bit wide and his shoulders dipped too much. from just a short observation, the boy was either a highly feminine, or he was a woman. He would have to take closer observations.

"Alright boy, if you want to learn from me then I suggest you get permission to work with me. I would suggest talking to the first mate, come find me once we have set sail if you get permission, my name is Hans Blanka feel free to call me whatever you like, just please avoid 'uh mister'." What hans needed to do now was find the sick bay. He started to make his way to the quartermaster but thought better of it midstep, instead making his way below deck.

Four minutes later he found the sick bay, six hanging cots with a room in the back for medical supplies and a bed for him. His only prayer was that they could avoid major navel battles, this sick bay was made for daily accidents, not for maintaining lives after a fight.

[zozee9]

Sky was elated that the magic doctor had agreed to teach her. Well, he had basically agreed to teach her. All she needed to do now was find the first mate and get permission...

Now that she had fully understood what the doctor man had said, Sky's face whitened. She was near positive that the tatooed lady was the first mate. And that the tatooed lady did not like her. But her determination to learn magic outweighed her fears.

With a walk of determination, Sky headed straight to the tatooed lady. Then she stopped when she was about five feet away from her. The tatooed lady had an odd expression on her face. And then she called out for Cateye. Sky had no idea who Cateye was, but she assumed some kind of scolding was about to happen. After all, what else would the tatooed lady want someone for? Deciding to wait until after the tatooed lady had vented, Sky just stood there.

[Winters-Feather]

Chris frowned and jolted his head upwards as something small shot through the sky. Years at sea and many a fight had taught him to be wary of things that fly. It was a boot. Curious, he glared at Vladimir who was throwing his footware into the ocean.
Moran, he thought. He was going to regret this decision, sooner or later. However, it wasn't like he could make the sailor go fetch them, now.
I'll talk to him later, Chris told himself, not in the mood to shout.

Morgan's voice crudely interrupted his thoughts.
"Yes, ma'am!" he replied smartly as he briskly walked over towards her. A crooked smile formed on his lips as she clutched to the bouquet.
"Gently, now," he said. "You've been out at sea far too long. Those are flowers in your hands, not those greenleggers. You don't need to choke the life out of them."

[GoblinFae]

She took a slow, soothing breath of salty sea air, intent upon calming herself at least a little. Chris was right after all, the flowers did not deserve her wrath even if they were an unprecedented gift. Morgan still was not sure what to do with them. As much as she refused to ever admit it aloud, she thought it was kind of sweet of the second mate to bring her something. He was always thoughtful like that and for the life of her, she could not understand why.

'Probably is building up to ask for some favor or other. Will have to keep an eye on the grog stores just in case.'

Nevertheless, her hand did relax its strangling hold as she let her arm lower as well. Stepping close to him so that her mouth was at his ear, she spoke quietly of the insanity she had been considering. "I suspect Captain will not be back 'til morn as is his way. Given it's the boys last night on land I was considering giving them a good send off aboard. What say you? Starting a day early on the grog barrels certainly won't offend the captain's sensibilities."

Morgan knew it would be deemed ludicrous to the rest of the crew, coming from her. But, it was how it had always been. The quartermaster barked and growled, occasionally biting, but she certainly took care of her crew and looked out for their safety and sanity without fail. If a night of light drinking would settle their hearts and minds then she was not opposed to giving it to them. Come morning they all had duties to preform and it was better to ship out with a happy crew than a heartsick one.

[Winters-Feather]

OOC: Time skip guys~!

Chris nodded, relieved as Morgan's grip eased up around the stem around the flowers.
Much better he thought.
Despite himself, the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly. The pirate was about to ask if that was that, though was surprsied when Morgan stepped closed to him. His posture stiffened, as straight as a board. His good eye widened a little, though narrowed as she spoke. The Captain not on board? Won't be back until morning? Chris stared at Morgan, rather baffled. It was not unusal for the man to stroll out at night to bed a wench or two, but never when there was work to be done. Crew came first, and today was a hethic day. Chris didn't imagine him having business with any other crew, either. The Captain trusted his mates, and would have let them know, at least Morgan. It was a little suspicious, but Chris figured he could ask the Captain in the morning what all that was about in the morning.

"Yes," he replied, allowing himself to relax.
Chris gave Morgan one last glance before walking back towards his rigging. There were many repairs to be done, and best get them all settled before the crew was too drunk to do them tonight, or hung over to do anything decent in the morning.

---
It had been a long day's work, though Chris was pleased that more or less everything had been complete. It was almost a mircle, considereding the lot that just came in. He thoughtfully glanced down at the new comers.
A queer bunch, he thought with a scoof.
They always were.

Chris hummed to himself as he sat at the edge of his perch of the Rat's Nest, a bottle of ale in his hands. He was familiar with the tune the men were bellowing far down below. It was a wild reel, penned by men at sea. The pirate took another swing of his alcohol. The stuff wasn't strong, and he was moderating himself very closely. Of course, it still was all very dangerous, but Chris only allowed himself to do it. He watched as, by the lantern's glow, a small circle of men on deck ended the song to the cheers of the others.  Two had violins. Three were equipped with sitars, and Chris spotted a man on a whistle. There were a couple more that played, but Roric Noseslicer- dubbed so for his missing nose- was the best. A couple of barrels were played on deck, with many mugs to go around.

In the dark of the night, Chris grinned to himself as he glanced at the harbor. It was a peaceful night. He watched as sailors wobbled on and off their ships, sometimes with a dame in their arms, sometimes with each other. The man sighed as he leaned agaist the railing. In truth, he enjoyed the parties. Despite what most thought, he COULD relax. Of course, from up on the Nest, the sound was muffled, but sometimes he liked the dulled out noise.Still, from up here he could see everything, and have a place to think.

Chris scratched the back of his head as the tune switched to an Adelan lewd balled. He tuned the melody out of his head as he sat there, pensively staring out into the dark ocean. The smell of salt and faint smell of booze filled his nose. Finally, after a while, Chris got up from his seat and carefully climbed down the ropes.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said in his usual crisp manner as he made his way through the swarm to grab two mug fulls of ale. He examined the crowd and frowned. Morgan would normally be among their numbers, but he didn't see her.
Probably below deck, he thought before promptly making his way to the door that lead below deck. He hadn't had the opprotunity to talk with Morgan since the afternoon, and there were a few things he wanted to discuss. It was quiet down there, though he could hear the soft snoring of a sailor.
"Morgan?" he called out as he looked around the room.
It smelt strongly of sweat and booze. Hammochs gently swayed, the light from lanterns and candles dim.

[GoblinFae]

At last the night had come. Above her on deck, Morgan could hear the majority of the crew enjoying their last night of land in sight. A couple of caskets were flowing and men laughed and sang bawdily. She did not dwell on what some of the more frustrating recruits were up to. As long as they did not cause any lasting damage to each other or the ship they were free to work things out on their own. Morgan found that it was good to open a barrel and let them enjoy themselves before shipping out so that the feelings of unity were in place long before leaving. A happy crew, worked hard and made her job easier.

But, instead of joining them she had slipped away soon after the revelry began down into the crew's shared sleeping quarters. At the end of the row of built-in bed and swaying hammocks was an open doorway with a curtain that blocked off the entrance to her own small yet somewhat private berth.

It was a cramped space with her cubby-hole bed, heavy chest, and small writing desk strewn with sea charts and various personal trinkets. The flowers Chris had given her earlier in the day could not be readily seen as they had been tucked away within her chest. A single stem stubbornly poked out from beneath the lid where it had not been noticed during the lid's hasty close.

Portholes decorated the back wall letting in cool sea air and small tendrils of moonlight that seemed to be trying to touch her as she huddled in the darkest corner of her bed, steadily sipping away at an entire bottle of the captain's wine. Morgan hated it when he left them like this, left her like this. It was something that always bothered her when they stopped ashore. The captain would disappear without a word and then return again whenever he felt like it. To others of the experienced crew it was deemed the norm but to Morgan it was hell. She hated being up waiting for him to return and not knowing when that would be. Like this time he had said they would ship out in the morn and yet the moon grew heavy in the sky and no captain was in sight.

So she hid herself away to wallow and to stew in anger and fine wine while the rest of her crewmates enjoyed themselves without her. Morgan had just begun to believe she could even get away with it without notice when she heard sounds of Chris' approach.

Her head thunked back on the wall in frustration. It was too good to be true. She even had half the mind not to say anything at all, but he would find her eventually. There was not many places for a land-fearing woman to hide aboard a ship.

Hiding the bottle away with a grimace she returned his call with a rather terse one of her own. "If they've gone and killed themselves I don' wanna know!"

[zozee9]

The night had come without Sky even knowing what passed in the day. She was just sent from one place to another, following orders. In truth, she still barely knew any of the crew. But now she was surrounded by booze and bad singing.

In the streets, Sky had never drank any alcohol. It wasn't something that was worth stealing. It didn't satisfy hunger, was hard to get, and made one vulnerable. But now that she was on a ship surrounded by people she was to learn to trust, she figured that she'd give it a try.

But she didn't know what or how much to drink. All the ale and rum and beer looked the same to her. She didn't want to get drunk like some of the fools seemed to be by her since she knew that alcohol makes people do stupid things. And there was no way she was risking having her true gender known. But because she had never drank before, Sky had no idea how much she could drink before she'd be at risk.

She ended up wandering around the deck, hoping somebody would help her figure out what to do. Then Sky realized that she should man-up and act with her gut. If she seemed uncertain, they might not like her as much. She found and picked up an empty cup before filling it with some kind of brown liquid. She had already noticed that many of her crew mates drank the alcohol quite fast and sometimes all at once. This being her only guide, Sky chugged down all the liquid in the cup. The taste was bitter but nothing she wasn't used to from stale food. In the very last gulp, some of the alcohol got caught in her throat and caused her to cough out a spray of alcohol. Hoping that nobody witnessed that, Sky merely looked around at the night sky as if nothing was wrong.

[NightWind]

   His face hurt.
   It hurt because he had found himself in a number of fights- quite deliberately, in fact. The way he looked at it, it might be a while until his next fight, so he had decided to store up before the voyage. He enjoyed fighting. He enjoyed thumping his fists into people's bodies. He enjoyed the minor injuries he bore from fistfights, mute reminders of good times past. The pain, after all, was not great, it was a small pain. The kind of pain that was so familiar as to be comforting. He enjoyed a certain amount of pain. The split lip on his face, the small bruise around his eye, a small cut on his forehead that trickled blood around his eye socket and down the side of his nose. Two broken knuckles on his left hand. His nose had been broken- again- and he had lost another tooth. Contusions lingered about his general person, mementos of general brawls, scraps, and carrying-on.
   His face hurt, and he loved it.

   Vladimir was a wanted man, and he was no fool. When the crew had finished their duties and the others had gone off carousing, he had stayed on board the ship. As soon as the sun had gone down, however, his hood had come up and he set out for some fun of his own. Half a bottle of rum, a few wenches, and several fights later he squatted at the aft of the ship, going through his general possessions and sorting out what he had won and stolen and weighing it against what he had lost. His cutlass was gone, but he still had his machete. Grunting, the pirate fixed it a leather strap, leaving the handle protruding over his right shoulder. He had liked that cutlass.
   Finished taking inventory, he gathered up his possessions once again, satisfied with how things had turned out. He padded barefoot into the sleeping quarters to put certain things with his assorted pouches and small packs. Briefly Vladimir considered staying there until his sharp ears caught sounds from a curtained-off part of the room. Wanting to be by himself for a while, he had slipped out instead and went back to the aft of the ship, sprawling with his back against the rail. He sat there awhile, fingers absently pulling a needle attached to coarse thread through something he'd been working on for a while. Every now and again he'd wince and shift his position. Not all the hurts he'd taken had been violent- he could inspire quite a passion in a woman; there were several sets of jagged scratch marks down his back, and a bite mark was visible on his shoulder.
   It was then he heard a choking sort of cough and looked up to see the runty cabin boy. Apparently the lad didn't take his ale well. The pirate chuckled his rough-sounding chuckle and looked over the boy- he was still dressed in rags barely fit for plugging a bilge. Vladimir himself had spent most of his life on the road, he felt a certain brotherhood with the small lad. And so it was that he hailed the scrappy child.
   "Oy! Whelp!" He called out, waving the cabin boy over. "C'mere. I got somthin' fer ya."

[Zane]

If one were to come into the sick bay now, you would find it a changed place, medical supplies everywhere, two additional cots where the room allowed for it. The storage room was stocked to the near point of overflowing with herbs and chemicals that went along with the career, not to mention a little project that Hans had been working on for a while now, and the underneath of the good doctors bed was compacted with books, both business and pleasure reads.

So how, pray tell, did a doctor with one measly shoulder bag have so much stuff? Well that would be the enchantment on the bag. It was a gift from his mother and father when he went of the the Arca College. It could hold entire persons, entire scores of persons, and still have room, and not have and weight change whatsoever. Magic truly was a marvel.

He did step off the vessel earlier that day to stop by the Runner's Office and mail a letter to his mother, telling her that it may be a while before they see each other again but it was little cause to worry, also asking to give his father the best regards, if he ever came to shore that was. That little bit of the day had been hard, He had always made a point to visit Blanka Manor every three months so his mother didn't get too worried, or too lonely for that matter, his father was always out to sea.

Back on the ship, he had spent till nightfall in the sickbay, making sure it was exactly the way he wanted it. once the sun had dipped below the horizon, he came out to enjoy the night with the crew, perhaps get to know some of them. Thus far he had learn that some of the crew saw him with a deathwish of some sorts or some lucky bastard or a combination of the two, one does not cross the first and second mate in mere seconds of another and live to tell the tale.

He sat on the railing at the side of the ship, sipping on some rum, enjoying the lighthearted music and singing, part of him wished he had spent more time with his father out to sea as to really be used to this sort of thing, but maybe it was because of who his father was that he found himself on this ship today.

[Dreamwolf]

They were loud.

This was Cane's only thought as he meditated in one of the few uncrowded spaces near the ships rails. His fishing pole was stretched out, the line in the water. He waited until the fish had just barely nipped the hook and with a swish, he set the line and hauled it up. The mackerel eyed him in that fishy way they had. Deciding the catch was too small he unhooked it and tossed it back over. Tossing the line back over he went back to meditating. He processed his thoughts about the day, made careful mental notes about the crew he had met, and put everything into order.

He hauled in another mackerel. Checked it's size. Tossed it back. "The fish here are too small." The first words out of his mouth since the sun had set.