You open the squat cabin door.
You walk through the squat cabin door.
You close the squat cabin door.
[The Greenest Dolphin, Main Deck, Aft]
You are on [a timeworn naval freighter].
At the back end of the main deck, the captain's cabin hunkers below the quarterdeck. The battered hardwood of the Greenest Dolphin is evidently kept ship-shape by regular swabbing with oil and tar. Above, the network of ropes that manages the mainsail creaks in any wind.
A rich mahogany-haired man is here, holding a grimy wooden mug in his right hand.
You are upon a ship. Fog glimmers greyly in the pale dawn light.
Cardinal Exits: south to the aft and north to the fore
Other: the Captain's Cabin: squat cabin door (closed) and the mainmast (steep)
Paldeo grumbles, peering through the morning fog.
A rich mahogany-haired man peers towards south to the aft.
Awkwardly, a rich mahogany-haired man says, "There's a situation you might want to handle on the Quarterdeck, Captain."
With a grunt, you say, "Huh."
You walk up south to the aft.
[The Greenest Dolphin, Quarterdeck]
You are on [a timeworn naval freighter].
The quarterdeck is accessed by short, tight stairs on either side of the door to the captain's cabin. Up here, the large wheel is mounted facing the far front of the ship, with a fine view of the main deck and the forecastle. A battered wooden railing surrounds the dutifully-swabbed planks here, preventing unintended spills from this height above the waves.
A pox-scarred guy is standing by a large spoked ship's wheel. The fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair has breathed his last, holding an assortment of small items in his right hand.
You are upon a ship. Fog glimmers greyly in the pale dawn light.
Cardinal Exits: down to the main deck northward
Paldeo sighs, staring at the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair.
The night's fog lurks in the corners.
The sun rises over the eastern horizon.
It is sunrise, the hour of the phoenix.
You shout, "TIME FOR A SHIP'S FUNERAL, CREW!"
A pox-scarred guy falls in with you.
You pick the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair up and carry him in both your arms.
You walk down to the main deck northward, carrying the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair in your arms.
A pox-scarred guy walks over from up south to the aft.
You nod at a rich mahogany-haired man.
In the early sun's light, Paldeo walks through the fog towards the open patch of railing.
The ship moves across serene waves.
You walk north to the fore, carrying the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair in your arms.
A pox-scarred guy walks over from the way south to the aft.
[The Greenest Dolphin, Main Deck, Fore]
You are on [a timeworn naval freighter].
Worn by time but kept in good shape by consistent care, this Kalentoi-style naval freighter has proven itself capable of navigating the calmer fringes of the tumultuous Adelantean Sea. A rectangular mainsail spreads out across a grid of ropes upheld by the mainmast here, while a steep and narrow stairway descends down past a hatch into the hold. To aft, the quarterdeck stands over the captain's cabin, and to the fore is the deck above the forecastle that contains lodgings for both crew and passengers.
Also here is a pox-scarred guy. A darkly-tanned crewmate is standing here, wielding a heavy ship's mop in his right hand. The fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair is held by you here, holding an assortment of small items in his right hand.
You are upon a ship. Fog lingers with a misty eeriness.
Cardinal Exits: north to the fore and south to the aft
Other: down to the hold: wooden hatch (open), the forecastle: squat cabin door (open), and onto open waters (water)
The vessel rocks and creaks beneath you.
You shout, "SEA FUNERAL ON DECK!"
You drop the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair on the deck.
A rich mahogany-haired man walks over from the way south to the aft.
A somewhat lofty gentleman walks through the squat cabin door.
A rich mahogany-haired man steps carefully through the fog, looking less than certain about his footing. He gives a somewhat lofty gentleman a nod of recognition.
Paldeo stands over the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair, looking down at it gravely after dropping it onto the deck. "Rest in peace," he grumbles. "Rest in fishes. We barely knew 'im."
A pox-scarred guy folds their arms, observing in silence through the morning fog.
A somewhat lofty gentleman crosses his arms and huh's once he sees the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair. "The pukey one.", he murmurs, before nodding a greeting to a rich mahogany-haired man. "May God provide for this soul."
A darkly-tanned crewmate raises his mop and lets it rest on a shoulder while watching.
The crash of a wave sends a spray of water over the ship's edge while it flows gently across tranquil waters.
Honestly, a rich mahogany-haired man says, "I don't think I really knew him at all. Unfortunate."
Paldeo seems haggard and tired this early, and reaches up with a sigh to lift a jaunty sharkskin captain's hat from his head and hold it against his chest for a moment or two, while others say their final words over the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair.
OOC: Your pose will read 'a ruggedly roguish sea captain stands here over a corpse, with a jaunty sharkskin captain's hat held in one hand against his chest.'.
A pair of gulls soar over the ship, their wings flung about by the wind.
A somewhat lofty gentleman raises both hands upwards to rest palm-first before his face, murmuring a short benediction.
A pox-scarred guy observes wryly, "Looks like he got bitten to death by bilgerats." The observation isn't exactly kind.
A few sunbeams slip through the fog to lend the air a pale glow.
As sunbeams filter down through the sky and the fog begins to erode in the sunrise, Paldeo jams a jaunty sharkskin captain's hat back onto his head and leans down to collect the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair.
A somewhat lofty gentleman bobs his head to a pox-scarred guy. "Indeed. Doubt we have bilgerats with teeth that big though."
Scraps of fog drift away through the damp air, mirrored in the ragged clouds gliding through the cold blue sky.
Out of Character: a somewhat lofty gentleman rolled intuition and investigation and the result was a 78.
A somewhat lofty gentleman upnods the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair, "Probably fell off the railing, assailed by a shark or somesuch."
A pox-scarred guy gives a somewhat lofty gentleman a head tilt. "Never seen what happens when a swarm of rats start eating someone, I see," is the dry (and even crueller) observation.
As the last of the fog drifts away, only a few scattered clouds are left riding a chilly breeze.
A rich mahogany-haired man peers towards onto open waters.
A somewhat lofty gentleman crosses his arms at a pox-scarred guy, smirking. "Do we HAVE that many rats onboard?"
Uttering a 'tch' at a pox-scarred guy, you say, "Alright. Let's be respectful."
The ship continues across softly lapping waves.
Paldeo pauses, looking at the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair in his arms, and then glances around deck. "Anyone want his stuff?"
A pox-scarred guy rolls both shoulders in a shrug, keeping their arms crossed, and grimaces at you as though to indicate a 'no' from them.
A darkly-tanned crewmate huffs a sigh through his nostrils, content with a heavy ship's mop.
The ship beneath you glides across smooth waters.
An imposing, ebon-dark woman walks through the squat cabin door.
A rich mahogany-haired man says, "He have a knife or anything?"
Paldeo steps back from the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair, leaving it on deck. "Probably," is the answer to a rich mahogany-haired man.
Wispy clouds float across a cold blue sky.
A darkly-tanned crewmate shoots a glance over at an imposing, ebon-dark woman, balancing a heavy ship's mop over one shoulder while standing in observation of this 'sea funeral'.
A somewhat lofty gentleman Hrmphs. "I'll take the knapsack."
You go to crouch nearby on the deck, joining a darkly-tanned crewmate, the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair, a pox-scarred guy, a rich mahogany-haired man, a somewhat lofty gentleman, a short person wearing a heavy leather hood, and an imposing, ebon-dark woman.
A somewhat lofty gentleman takes a heavy woolen knapsack from the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair.
The shadow of a large fish can be seen passing beneath the ship as it calmly moves over glimmering waters.
A somewhat lofty gentleman gets out a small utilitarian knife from a heavy woolen knapsack in his possession.
A rich mahogany-haired man steps over to the body, crouching down to check for a blade.
A somewhat lofty gentleman offers a small utilitarian knife to a rich mahogany-haired man.
You take an wrought iron camp lantern from the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair.
A rich mahogany-haired man accepts a small utilitarian knife from a somewhat lofty gentleman.
A somewhat lofty gentleman says, "All yours, Rahat."
An imposing, ebon-dark woman emerges from the cabin with a rather impassive gaze over the gathering, seeming for whatever reason not surprised or taken aback. She cuts a look to a darkly-tanned crewmate, smirking briefly.
You place an wrought iron camp lantern on the deck, setting it nearby.
(Quietly): You grumble, "May as well not waste that."
A somewhat lofty gentleman nods.
A somewhat lofty gentleman says, "There's rope, dry straw, moss, a needle, thread, cloth scraps. I can't use any of these."
A somewhat lofty gentleman chuckles.
A pox-scarred guy stalks over to the railing, peering over with arms still crossed. "Fish're hungry," is the gruffly-noted phrase. "Things to do. Let's get a move on."
A somewhat lofty gentleman nods at a pox-scarred guy.
Gratefully, a rich mahogany-haired man says, "Only have the scalpel for surgery, so, well, this is good to have."
A somewhat lofty gentleman closes the flap with wooden buttons of a heavy woolen knapsack.
A somewhat lofty gentleman puts on a heavy woolen knapsack.
You straighten to stand, heaving a sigh and nodding to a pox-scarred guy.
The ship calmly moves over glimmering waters, the scent of the sea tossed up on the wind.
"Sayyid Ariziya needs rope," an imposing, ebon-dark woman says to a somewhat lofty gentleman, voice cracking, hoarse.
You pick the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair up and carry him in both your arms.
A somewhat lofty gentleman nods at an imposing, ebon-dark woman.
A somewhat lofty gentleman opens the flap with wooden buttons of a heavy woolen knapsack.
A somewhat lofty gentleman gets out a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope from a heavy woolen knapsack in his possession.
A somewhat lofty gentleman offers a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope to an imposing, ebon-dark woman.
A somewhat lofty gentleman takes a strange collection of knots from the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair.
A somewhat lofty gentleman reaches out to touch a strange collection of knots.
Paldeo walks with the body to the edge of the deck where the ship's railing is open for the gangplank.
A somewhat lofty gentleman says, "Hm."
A somewhat lofty gentleman shrugs.
An imposing, ebon-dark woman accepts a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope from a somewhat lofty gentleman.
A somewhat lofty gentleman puts a strange collection of knots in a heavy woolen knapsack.
You attempt to throw the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair but aren't strong enough.
There's a sickening crack from your left foot.
You straighten to stand.
Paldeo starts to heave the corpse, but then something cracks in his ankle. "Owch...." He grumbles for a minute. It's clear that morning does not agree with the captain.
You pick the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair up and carry him against you with your left hand, picking it up again.
You hurl the fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair to an onto open waters.
A rich mahogany-haired man peers towards onto open waters.
The crash of a wave sends a spray of water over the ship's edge while it floats peacefully onward.
Paldeo sags unhappily after finally managing to heave the body overboard.
The sunlight dims as a cold bank of clouds begins to creep across the sky.
You peer towards onto open waters...
[The Southeastern Adelantean, Upon a Vast Blue-Green Sea]
The sea stretches out into the horizons, carrying the distinct teal-navy tones of the Adelantean.
The fresh corpse of a matted man with blasted, windswept hair is lain here, holding an assortment of small items in his right hand.
There is untold depths of salt water here. Cold clouds blanket the sky and cast a chilly pall upon the day.
Cardinal Exits: east (water)
Other: a timeworn naval freighter
A somewhat lofty gentleman says, "We do have a physician onboard-"
A somewhat lofty gentleman squints momentarily.
(Hidden) A somewhat lofty gentleman whispers to a short person wearing a heavy leather hood, "--s---. -------- s----s. -- - --- s----."
As clouds move in to cover the face of the sky, the daylight turns wan and grey.
A rich mahogany-haired man peers towards onto open waters.
In the blue sea waves next to the ship, the corpse of the matted man slowly sinks... and a few moments later, a turbulent haze of red floats to the surface of the water. (Emit by Paldeo)
An imposing, ebon-dark woman whispers quietly, as though to herself, "Mamu ebi uwuta odogis onanibe ndowu."
Gruffly, you say, "Rest in peace."
The ship beneath you calmly moves over glimmering waters.
(Quietly): A pox-scarred guy mutters, "Alright."
A somewhat lofty gentleman bobs his head reverently to you.
A pox-scarred guy turns away from the railing, already shouting up at a sailor in the rigging, and stalks off.
A pox-scarred guy walks south to the aft.
A darkly-tanned crewmate shows an imposing, ebon-dark woman a small smile before flopping a heavy ship's mop down to the deck and wandering away in the other direction.
A rich mahogany-haired man steps back a moment after seeing the results of the body thrown overboard. "The sharks are following?"
A darkly-tanned crewmate walks north to the fore, swabbing the deck, wielding a heavy ship's mop in his right hand.
A somewhat lofty gentleman says, "I hope not, but remember what Tekra said."
A somewhat lofty gentleman says, "They're all fleeing. Might be more about. Hopefully the body lures them away."
Paldeo grunts sourly over at a rich mahogany-haired man. "Lot of dead rats in the bilge." He thumbs at his chin, scratching at some stubble. "Blood in the water." A distracted gaze pans through the last scraps of fog towards the wisp-clouded sky in the northeast.
"The ship makes a shadow, sayyid," an imposing, ebon-dark woman says, perhaps not very audible over the sounds of ship and sea and sails. She doesn't offer more, as though that's all the explanation needed.
(Quietly): Paldeo shifts his gaze back towards an imposing, ebon-dark woman, one quick flick of faintly-suspicious eyes.
You're not sure whether anyone notices you.
Brushing off both hands, you say, "Well, that's that."
The ship floats smoothly upon calm waves, the scent of the sea tossed up on the wind.
Looking around at any lingering sailors, you exclaim, "BACK TO WORK, CREW!"
Paldeo readjusts a jaunty sharkskin captain's hat and heads towards his cabin, grumbling to himself very quietly and limping for a few seconds on his corpse-throwing ankle.
You walk south to the aft.