Tumblr for the guild Ox and Raven Trading Co. on the Wyrmrest Accord server in World of Warcraft. The company is run by Raivenn Sol'arian (Magister and archaeologist by trade) and Kuerani Sol'arian (a Knight-Master in the Blood Knight Order). Their ship will make runs to Pandaria for luxury goods, and elsewhere in Azeroth for relics.
The storm arrived in the late afternoon after a brilliant, Crimson sunrise at the dawn. It came in on deepest black waters, with waves that were at least three feet high. It sloshed itself upon the deck and there were many who felt themselves at the mercy of Nature’s whim.
For me, it was my first storm out to sea. Captain Drae, as I like to call him privately, had almost all of us in the safest part of the ship, the galley and sleeping quarters. but still the sails needed to be tended and sailed.
We all took turns, making sure to stay clear of the flying boom as the winds and rough waters lashed at us from all sides. I too rose when it was my turn, and not even my shield of magic could keep out the rain falling sidewise. All too quickly I heard the wailing in the storm, as if the storm were a lover forsaken. The cold rain slicked the deck and made it hard to walk.
Careful steps up the rigging then as the boat continued to sway and shake, white caps frothing over the tidal waves as if we were In a maelstrom, or someone giant soup pot. I missed Melling’s warm soup, but I wondered if I could even keep it down.
Up. And up, into the rigging I went to right the slackened sail. The gusts of wind threatening to knock me down into the deepest black below. The mix of salt and fresh water left a different taste on my lips as I pursed them, focused on my task.
I heard and saw the vivid flash of lightning, a deepest blue Nearly just a few feet from me. Suddenly, the ship sail came out of nowhere at a Fourty five degree angle and I almost lost my footing entirely. It had cracked at the base and still smoldered, jabbing towards me like a pirate’s foil.
The smell of smoking wood, and the cry of those below me awoke me once again to the fury of nature. I spoke to myself, for even the tempest was so strong my mind voice nearly had to shout. Focus on the task, and carefully return. This one was lost for now, salvage the canvas sail.
I grappled it and began to cut free the sails with the knife I had attached to my side. The hilt was slippery and the blade felt so flimsy in my fingers. But slowly the sail came loose as the boat lurched back and forth.
I felt as a tiny leaf in a strong gale, and as I looked within the darkest clouds I offered up a quiet prayer. But such a distraction cost me my footing, and suddenly I found myself falling…
My left foot caught in the rigging, keeping me from going completely overboard. I shouted for help but I was unsure if others could hear me in the wailing of the storm. Yet, faith held…
The dig site was a secretive affair, not just because of the harpies which called the Ruins of Ravenwind home, but because these were ancient Highborne ruins, and the night elves still kept watch over them now and again. It wouldn't do to be discovered--so the entire dig was conducted under magical concealment, and localized to one small part of the ruins to make it easier for the mage maintaining the cloak.
They dug downwards, through layers of ruins, finding at first mostly mundane, everyday items of no research value--though still valuable for the materials they were crafted in, and for their ostentatious design. Below everything else they unearthed a crypt of sorts, unusual in itself as the bodies had been prevented from returning to the earth. Jewelry began to appear--rings and necklaces, earrings and ornate belts, many of them bearing some sort of enchantment. They would fetch a good price, once they'd been examined and deemed harmless.
Veryn Dawngrave sat comfortably within his spell circle overlooking the camp, maintaining the spell which hid their activity. It took only a portion of his concentration, so now and again someone would come to show him a particular item, to assess whether it was simply a trade good, or whether it was of particular interest. He was surprised that so far none of the harpies had breached the spell and stumbled upon them--but he'd observed them using simple spells of their own, so maybe they were able to sense the barrier. Not enough to grasp its significance perhaps, but enough to feel something was wrong about the location and avoid it.
His gaze sharpened with interest as he watched one of the archaeologists climb out of the pit and head towards him, a cloth wrapped bundle under her arm. "What is it this time?" he asked curiously as she approached. By the size it was no piece of jewelry.
"A book," she said, tugging the cloth away. What she revealed was remarkably preserved, given its age. The cover was crafted entirely of metal--silver or silver plate--and ornately engraved and set with moonstones. The polished white gems held a blue glow in their depths, and were of excellent quality.
Veryn pulled the book from her hands, and opened the cover carefully. Even the pages were intact, oddly pristine, and he had no doubt a significant amount of magic went into its creation. A spell book? he wondered, though as he flipped through the pages his brow furrowed. They were blank, all of them. A small object slipped free from where it had been tucked into a gap in the spine, and swung from a silver chain. A vial, containing a softly glowing liquid. "Moonwell water," he murmured. He closed the book, and handed it back, tucking the small vial safely inside. "Set it aside for the magister."
To Amariesse Starsinger and Rook Tangram of Dracone Holdings,
The Stargazer has returned from her voyage to Pandaria safely, with a cargo of luxury goods ranging from tea sets and foodstuffs to bolts of cloth, quality furs, and animal hides.
I have enclosed a copy of the shipping manifest so that you may decide which items you wish to claim as our payment toward the vessel. Should you wish to see the goods before deciding, we can certainly accomodate you.
Sincerely,Â
Raivenn and Kuerani Sol’arian of Ox and Raven Trading
Leeorah shifted a bit as she realized the awkward silence of the crew about the topic. "Well.. Cap. When you are ready for your touch ups, you know where I am. I am going to see how Yam is doing."
Dracerys smiles briefly at Lee as she heads to check on her 'butler'.
Meiling says: How is it her food tends to her belongings?
Meiling scritches at her nose curiously.
Dracerys says: Her food?
Meiling says: Yams are delicious.
Dracerys says: Oh!
Dracerys says: The name of that giant blueberry is Yamotos.
Mi Sung blinks. "So the yam is really a blueberry?"
Meiling smiles, but she still looks uncertain. "I see," she replies slowly. She doesn't see.
Dracerys offers a genuine smile, thinking they finally understand.
Dracerys says: It's her butler. It's not food.
Mi Sung gives a sage nod.
Meiling says: Oh! Mi is my butler.
Meiling says: I think.
Mi Sung says: I am not!
Meiling says: Are... you sure?
Meiling says: You carried our bags on!
Mi Sung says: I...well, I did, yes.
Meiling says: And you unpacked while I looked over the galley-kitchen.
Mi Sung nods. "I did do that."
Meiling says: And you always get the door!
Meiling is always in the kitchen, too busy stirring things to get the door.
Mi Sung puffs out a sigh. Maybe she was a butler! "Your hands are usually full," she points out.
Meiling says: Oh, and you always bring me good things to drink.
Dracerys smiles listening to the two. "Well, ladies."
Mi Sung says: Well, someone has to taste my new brews!
Meiling finally nods seriously. "Mi is my butler."
Figured I should put up an easy to read chart showing where the ship is and when...both for people needing to know where their characters are, and wanting to know when (and where) to meet up with their friends on the crew if they wish.
Solarn made his way past the other bunks toward his own. The small crane scurried along behind him, its feet pattering along the deck. Seeing Ashendawn, the death knight hesitated then offered his customary greeting, "Salutations."
Ashendawn lifted his arm slightly, enough to squint at the death knight past the light. "Oh, it's you," he says, warily. He pushes himself somewhat upright, lest he be accused of malfunctioning. "I don't suppose dead people drink," he adds, lifting his cup to take another sip.
"I have attempted alcohol consumption as a leisure activity. It seems to have no effect upon me," Solarn replies.
Ashendawn flashes a tight, humorless grin. "One point for me, then."
"A point for you? I do not understand," Solarn says, cocking his head to one side and giving Ashendawn a quizzical look.
The priest sighs. "I suppose you wouldn't," he says, then blinks. "I suppose that's another point for me."
"Would you be so kind as to elucidate?" Solarn asks, giving Ashendawn a hopeful look.
"Certainly." Ashendawn lifts his cup, and points with one of the fingers holding it. "On your side, roses and cranes and reading. On mine, drinking and...and..." Well, whatever it was, he was no longer so certain it was really much of a point in favor of him. "I am now almost as interesting as a dead man."
Solarn gives Ashendawn a confused look. "Are you comparing yourself to me?" he asks on a faintly incredulous note.
Ashendawn takes another sip, gazing at the death knight steadily over the rim of the cup. "I suppose I am," he finally says.
"Why?" It was a simple question, almost childlike in its askance.
Ashendawn swallows back the answer that immediately comes to mind, and grunts softly. "No particular reason."
"Do you remember your childhood? Your family? What you did before the Lich King came?"
"My childhood was a very long time ago," the priest replies. "But yes."
"Then you have the advantage of me. I do not possess such memories."
"I suppose that's something," Ashendawn says, though his expression turns slightly bitter as he takes another sip. "Point for me."
"While I have certain advantages, I believe I have a number of handicaps which I am attempting to overcome."
"Is that so?" Ashendawn goes for another sip, and finds the cup empty. "What sort of handicaps?"
"I have no memories of my life before the Lich King raised me to serve him. I have difficulty understanding humor. I cannot enjoy some leisure activities such as alcohol and drugs." Solarn trails off with a shrug.
The preist snorts softly. "So, you're never going to be the life of the party. Hardly the worst that a person could have happen. I've seen worse." His expression sharpens. "None so bad as in Northrend, however."
Solarn nods solemnly. "Northrend was... tragic."
Ashendawn watches the death knight quietly for a long moment. "I wonder which side you think it was tragic for," he asks sourly.
"The living," Solarn is quick to answer.
"Well that's something, at least." Ashendawn sighs. "We lost too many, there. Would at least have been nice to bring them home."
Solarn nods. "But many did survive. You are one such."
Ashendawn grunts, and turns to swing his legs into his bunk. No more drink means no more need to sit up. "That campaign took more from me than all the others combined. If I survived, it's only because of sheer luck."
"Serendipity," Solarn says, watching Ashendawn with those glowing lichfire eyes. "I think I am lucky to have been freed from the Lich King's control. Most of the Scourge remained enslaved to him."
"Maybe dead men have luck too."
"Maybe," Solarn agreed. "Do you require sleep now?"
Ashendawn nods. Whatever it was that he'd drunk, a full glass had been more than enough. "Yes," he agrees, squinting at the light irritably. "Point for me, I guess."
Solarn reaches up to adjust the light to a dim glow. "Sleep well," he says before climbing into his own bunk over Ashendawn's. The soft sounds of pages turning can be heard in short order as the death knight immerses himself in a book.
There came a point where his leg brace became a problem in itself, and Ashendawn was well past that point. He sat on the edge of his bunk, curtain drawn across the opening for privacy given that he was currently without pants and the bunks directly across the room belonged to the women. The leg brace removed, he gripped the aching muscles of his thigh and fed Light into them, feeling the tension begin to ease. Without the brace it would have been worse, as the muscles rebelled altogether at being unbalanced by a badly set and bent femur. But where the brace lent stability, it also chafed with long term use.
Ashendawn pulled his hand away from his leg, the pain dulled to the point where he could tolerate it. The pants he put back on, but the brace he left on his bunk as he limped toward the wet pantry in search of a sorely needed drink. He had only himself to blame today, as he'd paced the deck in irritation and overworked it, still stewing over his encounter with the warlock. He could almost see where he'd gone wrong with the others--though really, he'd been on what he'd thought was fairly good behavior. Damned if he knew where he'd gone wrong with that woman, though. The way she'd reacted, a person would think he just kicked a puppy.
Then the harpy managed to call him classist, and insult his intelligence and masculinity besides. If it hadn't been for the captain's grip on his shoulder he likely would have said something he regretted, but it still stuck in his craw. He'd questioned the cleanliness of the demon which had recently been drooling all over the deck, and that was all--and while he had no qualms about taking what chastisements he'd earned, he'd be damned if he'd wind up in the doghouse over something he hadn't even done. He might be an asshole, but he was an asshole with a certain prickly pride about it.
He poured himself a cup of something dark amber that smelled as though it cost far more gold than he'd ever spent on a jug, and made his way back to his bunk. "If I'd said I didn't like cats, would she think I also didn't like little old ladies and shut ins?" he grumbled, taking a sip. The liquor went down his throat like liquid fire, but the finish was surprisingly pleasant. He lay back, the cup dangling from one hand and the other arm thrown across his eyes to block the remaining light.Â
What he really wanted to do was get good and properly drunk, until he forgot the whole damned thing. He'd have to settle for a single drink, a good night's sleep, and probably finding some other way to land in trouble the next day. Most likely deserved.
He woke, his gaze immediately focusing on the bunk directly above him. He wondered if the death knight was there, and felt the scar which marred the left side of his face tighten as he pressed his lips into a flat line. What a bit of bad luck that was, to share a bunk with something just as dead as those who'd brought an end to his long years of service.Â
Still, he supposed it was better than the boy.
Ashendawn unhooked the netting which he'd secured, despite the relatively sedate swaying of the vessel. Conditions could change in a hurry, and he didn't care much for the notion of picking himself up off the floor. He dressed quickly, strapping his leg brace on before pulling on the pants he'd left wadded in a corner of his bunk the night before. Then a thin, tightly knit sweater and a pair of boots before he dragged his hands through his greying hair.Â
Then it was to the galley for a quick breakfast before heading up the stairs to the deck above. The weather held, blue skies above and a steady wind, and he prowled the ship with a critical eye before he judged everything in good shape and leaned on one of the rails, looking out over the water. he was out of sorts, and it had nothing to do with anyone else.
He was uncomfortable in his own skin these days--when he looked in the mirror he no longer saw the soldier he'd been. He saw an old man, scarred and battered, and he still didn't know how he felt about that. He snorted softly, his hands tightening on the polished wood rail. "You've gotten soft," he muttered.
Then again, what did it say about him that he was more comfortable with the notion that he'd grown so callous, than he was with the idea that maybe there was a part of him that wasn't alright with that?
I have added a crew trainer for each shift in the NPC Pool section on the guild site (which reminds me, we really should figure out shifts! XD).
Because a lot of the crew falls into the "some" experience category, and we have a couple with none, Raivenn has arranged for a pair of sailors from a ship undergoing extensive repairs in drydock to help us out for a few months.
They are here to explain both how it is that the ship can function with a relatively inexperienced crew, and to train them up so that in three months time we will no longer be an inexperienced crew. They will not be RP'd in game (as Raivenn would go bonkers trying to be that many people at all hours) so feel free to just simply tell us OOCly if your character is learning something specific from them, or go so far as to use them in stories about your character at sea. That's what they're here for--as a resource to aid in your character's development as a sailor.
Two letters. Each one sealed. The first one is addressed to The Silverbrook Household:
Dear Mom and Dad, and brother:
If you are getting this letter it means that I am lost at sea, or perished somehow. I have a feeling you might have already known I was gone anyways. You are both so good at knowing these things.
My belongings will be sent to Farstrider Embersworn, but if you wish to take all the holy objects home with you, feel free. I doubt my beloved has any use for them anyways.
Please don’t grieve for my loss, and know that I have passed away doing something for the Light. We all have our time to go, and it was simply mine. Make sure that my plants are also watered, I don’t wish them to dry out either.
I know you all don’t drink much, but save a glass for me. Once a year, plant a tree in my memory of you are able, it’s just my final request.
I love you, and know now I am watching from the stars,
Your daughter,
Kena
Another letter. Sealed and addressed to Farstrider Embersworn:
My beloved.
It seems the seas have taken me from you in physical form, but know that I am always yours in spirit. I await you when I can see you again where no shadows fall. Except yours of course.
Tell Mitchell what has happened if you must, I love that darn old robot. I have no doubt you will be grieving my loss but make sure you get out and have fun in your own way as well, I don’t want you to be too sad on my account.
Keep what you wish, but if you sell anything of mine, please make that amount a donation to the Light. Please donate my unused clothing to the spire, for I’m sure many more could use them, better than being in dusty closet.
Know that I love you and my heart has been and always will be eternally yours. No jealous sea can ever take that away from us.
Raise a glass to me, and always remember our happy times together. I will be watching over you always. Look for me in twilight, just as the last rays of the day streak across the sky. I’ll be there.
In deepest love,
Your Kena
Both are placed into a waterproof container and given to the crews captains, as required.
Raivenn smiles at Dracerys. “Glad you could make it,” he says, gesturing to the ship. “Welcome to the Stargazer.” The wood of the ship is well-maintained, a dark teak polished to a shine, with stars of gold marble inlaid here and there.
Dracerys bows his head ever so slightly. “It’s my pleasure,” his eyes looking over the finely crafted ship with a bit of unhindered eagerness, “how did you ever come to possess a vessel of this quality in such a short time frame?”
Raivenn laughs softly. “It was a bit of good fortune. As I went into the Registry to file for a business license, the orc working there informed me that Riesse Starsinger of Dracone Holdings was looking to sell a ship. The arrangement is that we pay them back in goods, once we’re up and running.”
Dracerys tilts his head back a bit, almost in disbelief. “That is incredible fortune.” Drake’s tattooed hand rose to rub at his jaw, “What goods were they hoping to acquire from you, if I may ask?”
"Well, the ship will be hauling luxury goods from Pandaria, or relics from various dig sites. I’ve set limits as far as how much of any one shipment they can claim as payment—though they get first crack at buying goods as well. However, anything we are hauling for Blood Wardens for our own research will be off the manifest altogether as it is not cargo, and unavailable to them.”
Dracerys nods firmly. “Will the entire crew be composed of Wardens, or will those items not on the manifest be hidden to the crew as well?”
"Those items will be hidden from the crew as well," Raivenn says. "Most of the crew are not Wardens…though that may change, in time."
Dracerys nods once again. “Well, I have to say, so far this seems too good to be true.”
Dracerys smiles and nods.
Raivenn smiles, and heads into the open doorway, blinking as his eyes adjust to the dimness. “There’s a working shower and toilet,” he says, gesturing to his right. “And the stairs to crew quarters are to the left. Directly ahead here is the captain’s quarters…” He opens the door, and steps inside. It’s a decently sized room, considering, dominated by a desk in front of the door, and a bed partially hidden by a curtain. A large window seat runs along the rear of the space.
Dracerys follows behind Raivenn, watching his gestures in silent before leaning against the door frame and looking over the Captain’s Quarters. “A bit more professional than I’m used to, but I think I can make it work,” he joked.
Raivenn chuckles softly. “It is fairly basic,” he agrees. “There’s room enough for other things you might want to add, so long as any furniture is properly secured, of course.” He steps toward the windows, and raises one of the cushioned seats. “There’s ample storage, and some of these have false bottoms. Useful for transporting what gold we need, and perhaps our off-the-manifest research items.”
Dracerys nods briefly, stepping into the room. He paid particular attention to the detail carved into the table that was the center piece of the Captain’s Quarters. “Indeed. So far, this is much more than I could’ve hoped for.” He glanced to Raivenn, whatever had been interesting him in the desk was gone, he quickly stood up and asked, “What about crew and guest bunks? How large of a crew are you estimating we could maintain?”
Raivenn smiles. “She’s a small ship, built for speed moreso than cargo capacity. She’ll operate with a small crew, but there are ten bunks down below, and a guest suite next to captain’s quarters. Kuerani will occupy the guest suite when he sails, as one of the owners,” he explains. “Would you like to look at the crew quarters?” he asks, gesturing out the door, toward the stairs.
Dracerys bows his head slightly to the recommendation and steps out to the stairs, waiting in the hall for Raivenn to lead the way, his vision finally stabilizing in the dimness. “So Kuerani will be joining us frequently?” he questioned, almost amused by it.
Raivenn chuckles softly. “When he can. We have children, so…it’s a little tricky. But as much as we can spare him, yes. Just as I want to get out to some dig sites again…it’s been too long.” He descends the stairs to the lower deck, and reaches out to touch a lantern. A faint trickle of arcane is all it takes for the gem inside to begin to glow brightly.
Dracerys brings his left hand up to shield his vision from the bright gem, making his way down the stairs. “I understand. Perhaps this will be the perfect opportunity for both of you then.”
Raivenn nods. “I’m hoping so. The children come first, of course—but a person should make time for the things they are passionate about as well.” He glances around the small space, in which five sets of bunk beds stretch floor to ceiling. “We’re going to keep female crew separate from the male crew as much as we are able,” he adds, tugging a curtain across the opening between two bunks. “For privacy. Technically we could take on extra passengers, by having people share bunks—one person sleeping while the other is working.”
Dracerys nods. “Let’s try not to overcrowd, but its a good idea all the same.” He leans into one of the bunks, checking the brass bar across the top. “Do you have an idea of how many crew will be present for our first voyage?”
"At this point I believe eight, counting Kuerani. Enough to keep a ship this size going, and I’ll keep recruiting in the meanwhile. The first voyage is a nice simple run to Pandaria, just the sort of thing to get the crew settled in. Plus yourself, of course."
Dracerys adjusts his posture slightly. “I see. Might I be able to meet a few of these individuals before we set sail?”
Raivenn nods. “I was hoping you would. I’m sure you’d like to split them into shifts based on experience, and all that. Also…” He strolls down the corridor to pause between two doors. “We have two pantries, one for dry supplies, one for wet, such as casks and jars. If I have a list of things you need I’ll ensure you’re stocked before you set sail.”
Dracerys nods quietly. “I’ll speak to the crew as they become available. As for supplies, I’ll see what I can do about getting you a list as quickly as possible.” He raps his knuckles along the door frame to the wet pantry, listening to the sound of the wood. “This is all mighty impressive.”
Raivenn smiles, and moves a little farther down the hall. “There’s a small galley—I suppose people can take turns cooking. The booth won’t seat everyone, but it won’t need to.” He looks around, looking like a man truly pleased with his surroundings. “She’s a luxury ship, so she’s comfortable at least. The woodwork is top-notch, and the upholstery and mattresses are well padded.”
Dracerys leans against the wall in the galley, looking over everything for a long moment in silence. His eyes moving over all the furniture, before finally coming back to Raivenn. “You spoil us all. I’ve never sailed on a private vessel so well crafted and maintained.” He bowed his head once more, “I’ll would be honored to be the Captain of this ship.”
Raivenn smiles. “I’m glad to hear it. You’re the first one I thought of, naturally.” He leans against the wall. “I’ll inform the crew, and have them arrange to meet with you. Would you prefer one large gathering, or to meet them individually?”
Dracerys says: Individually. I would prefer to get to know them somewhat, before we set sail.
Raivenn nods. “I’ll forward what information I have on them. They mostly fall into the category of occasional sailors, though some experience is better than none, and they all profess to be willing to learn more. There are two younger crew members who have less experience, but you’ll find them enthusiastic.” Raivenn pauses. “And quite energetic.”
Dracerys clenches his jaw in thought, before nodding. “Have them all contact me. I’ll remain in Silvermoon until our journey begins.”
Raivenn nods. “Very well. I’ll send out letters as soon as possible. I also intend to have them provide documentation as to the current state of their health—so that should something happen to them in our employ, we are aware of any pre-existing medical conditions.”
Dracerys nods. “It may be morbid, but if these individuals have family, perhaps they should leave you with a letter to deliver for the worst case scenario. The sea can be as dangerous as she is beautiful.”
Raivenn arches a brow. “I hadn’t considered that, but yes. I’ll recommend that as well.” He straightens, as if just remembering something. “Ah…” He reaches into a pocket, and pulls out an engraved silver object. He flips it open, revealing a compass. “This is for you. It has two needles. The first functions as a standard compass. The other has another use. I’ll be providing the crew with earrings to use as communicators. There will also be a gem they can activate if they fall overboard for any reason. That will lead you to them.”
Dracerys reaches out, hesitantly at first. “Impressive. Thank you, sir.” Gently, he plucks the compass from Raivenn’s hand, taking time to look over how well crafted it is.
"I bought the compass, and enchanted it myself. I’ve tested it thoroughly… I may not be one for sailing, but I’ll do my part in making sure everyone gets home safely."
Dracerys smiles and nods, slipping the compass into his breast pocket for the time being. “Thank you, again. This will certainly help put the crew more at ease in any difficult situations.”
Raivenn nods, his gaze somewhat distant as he makes a mental note of all the things he will need to inform the crew about. “Thank you for agreeing to captain the ship.” Raivenn smiles. “I hoped if we met here, it would be easier to persuade you.”
Dracerys smiles, “Well, it didn’t hurt.” He folds his arms across his chest, looking around once more. “She is a solid creature. She will fare well, especially if the crew is as eager as you say.”
Raivenn laughs softly. “The two younger ones are quite enthusiastic,” he agrees. “In any case, I should be off—I need to write down some of this while it’s still fresh in my mind, and give the crew time to comply with our requests.”
Dracerys bows graciously. “I understand. It has been a pleasure.”
Raivenn bows slightly in return. “I’ll even have Kuerani meet with you,” he promises. “He has aspirations of being a captain one day himself, so he’ll be eager to learn.”
Dracerys nods, “I’ll do my best to show him the ropes,” he says. “Take care, sir. I look forward to hearing from you again soon.”
Raivenn nods, and turns to head back up the corridor. “I look forward to it as well.” He turns to smile over his shoulder. “Good evening.” He climbs the stairs.
Some potentially useful information here...particularly when it comes to terminology and different positions aboard the ship, as an example:
carpenter - member of the crew in charge of inspection, maintenance, and repair of decks, masts, and all other wood-work in the ship's construction. Also supervises modifications to a ship ("Cut a new gun port foreward, and move the long gun up there."), and careening the ship to scrape seaweed and other growth off the bottom of the hull.Â
sail-maker - member of the crew in charge of maintaining and replacing any and all canvas aboard, from sails to buckets to hammocks. Tailors would make a good character representation of a sailmaker.Â
steersman - also called helmsman, member of a vessel's crew responsible for actually steering and piloting the vessel along the route navigated by the captain and mate.Â
surgeon - member of the crew responsible for treating the sick and injured aboard.Â
topman - member of the crew who works aloft in the ship's rigging, instead of down on the deck.
If you think your character doesn't have skills related to working on a ship, you might be surprised...your tailor could be mending the sails, or your blacksmith or engineer might try out some carpentry!
Our departure date has been pushed back to the 17th, as it’s taken longer to fill our roster than we expected. Enclosed are some documents to sign, so we can make arrangements for your pay.
Captain Falconguard has asked to meet with each crew member before departure, so please do so as soon as possible. It is his place to determine if you are ready to set sail on the 17th, or if you require further training (which may mean waiting until the next voyage).
The captain has also suggested that each of you write a letter to your families, in the event of your death at sea. It may sound morbid, but if the worst should happen, it would bring your family some comfort.
We are dedicated to ensuring your safety as best we can, however—to that end, you will find an earring enclosed in your package. The emerald set in the front of the cuff will activate your comm, allowing you to speak to your fellow crew (and those of us on shore) wherever you might be. The ruby set at the back will activate an emergency signal, intended for use should you fall overboard for any reason. The captain has a device which will lead him to any active signals.
Lastly, we ask that you provide a document from a physician or healer outlining the current state of your health. We do not need you to be in perfect condition, but should you be injured while in our employ, knowledge of previous medical conditions may be essential to your treatment and recovery.
Deadline for submission of all documents is the 13th, to make the current voyage.
