Making the Greenless Dolphin Green Again

Date: After the violent storm ------- Location: Above Deck, Aboard the Greenest Dolphin

The ship has suffered a great deal of damage after the storm, but thankfully it remains whole. Most of it, anyway. New names have been suggested already, with the scholar Nima's taking the cake: "The Greenless Dolphin." Though there is a sizeable crew on board, it's going to take more hands than all of theirs put together to get the vessel repaired... not to mention materials. Food may not run out with the abundance of fish in misty waters, but fresh water will. Everyone on the ship is encouraged to help out in any way they can.

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(Rostam Marzani):

Rostam seems to be constantly on-deck, or underfoot, since the storm. While he cannot summon up fresh water, the big sellsword seems to be willing to help in any other way. During his free time, he begins salvaging ropes from the wreck of the rigging, coiling them neatly on the off-chance that they might be useful. He's currently at it, teasing knots loose.

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(Yasin):

Yasin emerges from the forecastle, an antsy look about him, reminiscent of his first week or so on the ship. Thick hands, flexing open and closed, useless in an unknown environment. He looks over to Rostam, and kneels down to notice him teasing apart knots. "Want some help?" comes the voice of the budding smith. He gestures to remnants of the wrecked rigging.

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(you):

Ziyad has been doing what he can to help, although he's not amongst the more physically capable individuals on board. Luckily, while he lacks the strength to move larger objects around, it turns out that the young scholar has surprisingly dexterous hands. This is useful to some degree when trying to salvage useful bits from tangles of debris left behind by the storm.

But at the moment, Ziyad's actually sitting down on a crate with good lighting where he won't be in the way of crew and volunteers. There's a small collection of scrap material at his feet and he's sketching on a sheet of paper with his brows furrowed. "Hmmm, maybe if I design it -this- way?" he mutters softly to himself. He gives his turban an absent tug. "Which provides a better surface for collecting condensation from this forsaken fog?"

Ziyad stops his muttering when he hears Yasin's voice and looks up to wave distractedly before returning to his work.

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(GM):

OOC: Ziyad just rolled logic and engineering, coming up with 46.

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(Rostam Marzani):

Looking over to Yasin with a sympathetic smile, Rostam makes room on the deck. He's using a marlinspike to tease apart some ruined cordage into its individual spans -- it's work that any unskilled laborer can do, to be handed off to a true sailor for the more difficult splicing. "Of course I can use some help, Sayyid. Grab a spike. Grab some line."

His attention deviates over toward Ziyad, head tipping curiously as he overhears the man's muttering. "What an interesting notion," he says softly. "We often just wipe a cloth across whatever surface we can, in drier climes, and suck the cloth dry. But this makes far more sense."

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(Yasin):

Yasin does as instructed, an eager step as the man seems hungry to act. He briefly observes Rostam, a slow nod of understanding, and then he gets to it. Rostam sits for a long moment, quietly working in focused, productive silence as he separates the ruined cordage.

After a time, the work becoming almost second-nature, he asks (still eyes-down at his work) to no one in particular, "Were any metal parts ruined, that need repair? Reinforcements, perhaps, to reform the main mast?" A pause, the man's voice low, a steady measure. "I haven't done it before, but we could consider a makeshift forge. Heat metal scraps, reform them." He shrugs. "I don't know anything about shipwork, but if we have enough metal that we can melt down, and someone can accurately describe what we need, and someone can help me make the forge, well ... it's something. An idea, anyway." He's quick to add on, "Not without risk, though. This would be high temperature heat, on a wooden vessel. I wouldn't recommend it unless we think this is something we need to do."

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(you):

"Hmm, yes... I think this will work. Small scale and inefficient, but best that can be done with limited resources and limited expertise..." Ziyad mutters. A relieved smile spreads across his features, no doubt the result of cracking a problem that he's been trying to work on for a while. He silent does a bit more sketching to ensure that the most important aspects of his idea is recorded for later. Then, the loud scratching of his quill stops when he returns the writing materials to his scribing case and stretches his limbs to work out some knots.

Ziyad rises off the crate to approach Rostam and Yasin. "I can't help overhear some of your conversation," he says in an apologetic tone after giving them a nod in greeting. "I'm not a smith, but I'm passable at working with small metal parts and simple devices. If Sayyid Yasin's capable of reforging parts and the crew can describe what's needed, I might also be able to help with minor repairs." He glances down at the scribing case in his arms. "I also have a potential method of collecting some amounts of fresh water if we get to the point that fresh water becomes a problem. Won't be able to tell if it works until we actually try it."

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(Rostam Marzani):

"I am not entirely sure whether there was any metal damage. But I imagine that the First Mate will know. Perhaps they'll post a list." Rostam continues to pull and tease at the rope, pounding some of the hemp rope into almost splintery threads before teasing them apart again. "But, for what it is worth, I imagine we could create a forge for low-heat work. And we might even be able to do stuff just by...hammering and bending, no?"

Looking to Ziyad with an amiable smile, he adds "Again, I'm not entirely sure what will be needed -- but I am certain there will be work for us all. And this method of collection moisture... I propose we put it into practice immediately. Even if we do not need it, it may ease people's minds."

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(Dalila Alchigh):

Dalila appears from the forecastle, looking a bit more put together than she had been the last few days. In her hands she carries a folded amount of cloth. Noting the men and their work at the rigging, she smiles and says "Looks like we all had similar ideas" before taking a seat and beginning to baste two pieces together. "I'm working on the sail - I have some cloth with me, praise the Song, and I think will be able to make it work without asking for too many people's clothing."

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(you):

Ziyad dips his head at Rostam, then at Dalila when she approaches. "We all do what we can to ensure that the Greenest Dolphin remains seaworthy. I'll see whether I can get a few of these put together with whatever spare materials there are," he agrees while tapping the leather case containing his notes. "If this area has a lot of rainfall, that could also help alleviate the potential of water shortage." He gives Dalila a reassuring smile. "And even if there isn't enough sailcloth available, I know there'll be people who are more than happy to give up spare clothing in order to get out of these mists faster."

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(Yasin):

Yasin continues the repetitive motion of his rope-work, an appreciative smile at those gathered. He's not particularly fast at the work, but his movements are steady, and progress is made. "I agree, Sayyid Marzani. If only bending and minor adjustments are needed, we should be able to safely and easily perform that work." He then shoots a look over to Dalila, and seems to regard the beginning clothwork with a fond, almost nostalgic expression.

A moment later, he pauses in his work to glance up at Ziyad, nodding to his scroll case. "What do you need to put that moisture, uh..." a minor hesitation, finally settling on "contraption", then continuing "into motion?"

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(Rostam Marzani):

"Ah, Sayyida, I'm pleased to see you contributing. But before you ruin your good cloth, I believe Sayyid Ziyad has a good notion -- I might suggest checking with the First Mate to see if the ship has any extra sailcloth. They may keep some stored somewhere." Rostam smiles at Dalila, nodding to the cloth, and adds, "Still, I am delighted to see that we passengers are all doing our part."

Over to Ziyad and Yasin, he agrees, "I'm curious to know how it works as well. Will you describe the... object?" He, too, seems to be without a good word for what is happening. Pound. Pound. Pound the rope. Pick it apart. "Sayyid Ziyad, you are a scholar. Tell me, are you able to understand the mysteries of sea currents?"

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(a ruggedly roguish sea captain):

The cracking-open of a crate of heqet from the recovered stolen cargo (which was then stolen again by the captain's whim, apparently) has left Captain Paldeo of the Greenless Dolphin sleeping off a hangover in his cabin for quite some time, with the First Mate keeping an eye on the wheel and loosely directing the cleanup of various flotsam from the storm. The Dolphin may be mastless but she is not rudderless yet, and Tekra seems to be trying to steer the vessel back eastward. How fruitful this endeavor is would be anyone's guess, as the mist roils around the hull, simultaneously obscuring the currents and seemingly warping them unnaturally to push the ship in unpredictable directions.

Today, the captain briefly shows his face amongst those attempting to save his ship -- offering gruff commendations to the crew involved, while squinting and nodding in acknowledgment at the passengers who've stepped up to the job, too.

"We'll see what we can patch together to chart a course out of this mess," he announces in heavily-accented Sirdabi, whacking a nearby sailor on the shoulder. "Go get some sailcloth for this woman." His other hand tips a jaunty sharkskin captain's hat towards Dalila. Then, he's trudging off down into the hold.

A few minutes later he's passing by again with a grumbled, "Keep up the good work." Disappointingly, a half-empty bottle -- squat, round, and made of dark glass with a stamped sunrise-- hangs at the end of one hand, and he's disappeared into the captain's cabin again.

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(you):

"Captain," Ziyad greets respectfully as the man stops by to provide input. He gives Rostam a shake of his head while he regards the captain's retreating back. "Unfortunately, I never had a cause to study the movement of ocean currents. Now I wish that I had, except no amount of wishing can change what knowledge I have in this moment. We'll have to rely on the good captain and his crew to navigate us out of this mess..." Ziyad heaves a soft sigh, causing ghosty fingers of mist to swirl from his gusty breath.

There's almost an embarrassed expression on the scholar's features when he slowly unclasps his case to bring out the sketches he just finished working on. He steps a little closer to Rostam, Yasin and Dalila to show them the design. "It's all very crudely based off what little I can recall about fog collectors," he apologizes. His weight shifts in a mark of subtle discomfort. "I'm envisioning a lattice formed from either strips of varnished wood or clean metal links if those are available. You see how all of it gather down into a point at the bottom? Condensation will form on the lattice and get funneled downwards, where it drips through a small opening in the covered barrel that forms the containment unit. Ideally, we'll find a way to place the contraption up high to reduce the introduction of salt from ocean spray, but we might also be able to set up some shielding instead. Now, all of this is still theoretical, so adjustments might need to be made as we test things out."

Ziyad rubs his chin thoughtfully with his free hand. "I've also noticed condensation clinging to other existing surfaces on this ship. We can try to collect that as supplementary water too, but more extensive boiling might be needed depending on -what- surfaces we collect from. Some are more--" He pauses. "--contaminated than others."

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(Dalila Alchigh):

Dee looks up from her project, blinking as commentary swirls around her about repairs and sailcloth. "Oh, yes...good idea. Thank you, Captain, and the rest of you gentlemen for thinking of it." She smiles at the nearby men and raises an eyebrow at Captain Inebriation heads off to drown a few sorrows. After a few moments, burly sailor approaches her with a pile of sailcloth that, while not anywhere near the vicinity of clean, will definitely get a start on a new way of locomotion. She folds up her rather fine cotton and puts it away, instead inspecting the cloth to try and assess what she has and how to best go about using it. Since this work requires more hand than eyes, she looks up, chewing her lip anxiously as she listens to the discussion of how to get some drinking water.

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(Rostam Marzani):

A strangely-neutral expression passes over Rostam's face as he watches the Capain pass, his dark eyes passing down to the bottle dangling from the man's belt. He doesn't say anything for awhile, just pounding away at the rope and pulling strands apart, repetitively. When he does speak, however, his voice is thoughtful and appreciative.

"It's a fantastic notion," he commends Ziyad, shaking his head musingly. "I would never have considered it. As for the.. the contamination, I suppose we might set up a barrel for good water, a barrel for bad, and a barrel for water from the heads." He considers for a few moments, saying "I imagine we could find some lacquered wood. A desk, or a bench, or something of the sort."

He squints a bit at the Captain's Cabin, remarking idly to the others, "Has anyone been drinking the heqet recently Perhaps we could re-use the bottles for your contraption?"

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(Dalila Alchigh):

"The Captain might have a bottle or two." Dee replies to Rostam in an entirely neutral tone. "You know, because he's thirsty." Pressing her lips together, this time in an attempt not to snicker, she holds up a section of cloth and, nodding to herself, gets back to baste-ics. "I think we have enough cloth here for a decent-sized sail." Periodically as she works, she turns her face up, breathing in the fresh air. "The mists are unsettling, but I confess I am deeply tired of the smells below and in the forecastle." is her next observation. "If this doesn't work, I might fashion an oar myself and try to row us to land."

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(you):

Ziyad glances again at the captain's cabin and shrugs his shoulders. "I heard that men of the sea can hold their drink extremely well," he pipes up softly, although by his tone, it sounds more like he's trying to convince himself than making a factual statement. He hesitantly smiles at the others. "Either way, the more empty bottles there are, the more containers we have for water... after those bottles are cleaned. Perhaps one of the other volunteers can be convinced to help with that. But speaking of cleaning, I'm all too much in agreement with you, Sayyida Dalila." Ziyad's nose wrinkles and a gentle shudder goes through his body.

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(Yasin):

For the most part, Yasin remains silent through their shared work, appearing to find some solace in the group, and in the /doing/, simple as it may be.

He perks up when the captain passes by, offering a low, "Captain," and smiles appreciatively as Captain Paldeo asks a sailor to fetch Dalila some sailcloth. Seeing the Captain return a moment later, though, bottle in hand, causes Yasin's expression to darken, a flicker of shadows, the light of hope fading into something else.

Captain Inebration notwithstanding, Ziyad's scholarly words and practical explanation appear to have a somewhat rejuvenating effect on the burly man. He peers over at Ziyad's schematics, and though it is abundantly clear from a look in his eyes that he has absolutely no idea what Ziyad is talking about, he seems to brighten when he describes the condensation funneling downwards. Yasin lets out a low, quiet, "Ahh...so your uh ... 'lattice', there," pointing awkwardly with a calloused forefinger, "is all about ... making the most space for the mist to collect, yeah? But you've got to balance the collection with enough space for it to fall, I guess. Huh. Sort of makes sense." The man seems at once both confused but perceptive, fumbling and pausing through his attempt to make sense of it, yet clearly eager and excited at the proposal.

As the group discuss the rest of the work, he offers, "I've seen more than a few of those bottles, I'll let others know to collect 'em." And with that, a little fiery spark (earned or not) returned to his demeanor, back to work on the rope he goes.

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(Rostam Marzani):

"We can wash them out with -- fresh water, yes? But that seems a bit wasteful. Can we wash them with salt water and still drink from them?" Rostam grabs a new pile of hemp rope and begins teasing it apart. He is otherwise quiet, apparently having little to offer, but there's genuine pleasure in the glance he offers to Yasin and Ziyad. To Dalila, he finally interjects, "I had actually considered oars. Some ships manage it, slowly, and with enough people."

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(you):

"Yes, exactly!" Ziyad exclaims while nodding at Yasin. He eyes the other young man curiously. "Have you help with this type of work before or collaborated with other scholars? You have a good head for quickly understanding what's going on."

Rostam's question draws a silent moment of consideration from him. He gives a little shake of his head. "No, washing with plain salt water probably isn't a good idea. But boiling the water first could do the job. I'd boil whatever rags are used to dry the bottles too." There's a short pause. "Does anyone know how we're doing on firewood?"

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(Dalila Alchigh):

Biting off the thread as she finishes her preliminary joining of sailcloth, Dee gets to her feet, groaning "Ow, ow, my legs are all pins and needles" as she shakes one, then the other. She's no engineer, so she stays out of the water more finicking parts of the water discussion, though she does offer "I'd worry that washing them in salt water would leave residue and contaminate the fresh, though...hmm. Maybe rig up a cloth....scrub thing, and wipe down the inside? All you'd need is some cloth and a stick." Her head tilts a little and she muses "Maybe we should get oars ready along with the sail...or...see if there is any below?

The wood question distracts her, brow furrowing and clear anxiety blooming on her face. "I don't know...where is the supply kept? Do you think the Captain knows?" Pulling one side of the cloth out so it is straight, she assesses the length, murmuring "Maybe three of these" before plopping back down on the deck, pulling the cloth into her lap, and checking it over before she begins working with more precise, even stitches.

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(Yasin):

Yasin shakes his head toward Ziyad, looking troubled. "Uhh. No," before adding, after a moment, a distracted tone of voice. "Well, yes. Years ago." There's an emphasis the burly man seems to place on those words, /Years ago/, a weightiness to the phrase that is perhaps inconsistent with the man's youth. "I don't have a knack for scholarship, Sayyid. But I do like making things."

Yasin then stands as well, seemingly having picked apart a large amount of the cordage, and prompted by Dalila's motion. "Perhaps we can ask the cook? I assume they'd know best." He pauses, rolling his shoulders. "I wouldn't mind a bite, anyway..."

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(Rostam Marzani):

Rostam rises to his feet as the work-party begins to break up. He stretches, twists, eliciting a series of soft pops from the man's back and a satisfying crunch from his neck as he rolls it side to side. "Ah, that's been a good days' work, I think," he agrees with the others. "The cook ought to know where more firewood is, I agree -- and I could really use a loaf of bread and some roast fish." Despite the monotony of the diet, Rostam seems to imbue these words with enthusiasm.

"And we can collect bottles for the dew-catcher! All and all, friends, I think we have made some real progress."

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(you):

Ziyad considers Dee's suggests and bobs his head. "Let's try doing it both ways. Clean in some boiled water, assuming firewood isn't an issue, then rub dry with a cloth to scrub off any residue that might be clinging to the bottles. If we can get things set up quickly, we might be able to collect enough mist water to spare for cleaning of the latter batches."

He glances between Yasin and Rostam. "I'll let you know if I need any help with my tasks. You will do the same with yours?"

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(Yasin):

Yasin nods agreeably with the group, also looking a mite satisfied with both their day's joint work and, perhaps more importantly, the discussion of progress. "I will, Sayyid." After a bow of his head to those not joining him for food, he then wanders off at a leisurely pace for a change, headed towards the galley.

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(Rostam Marzani):

As he begins to wander off, Rostam raises a hand in acknowledgement. "Of course!"

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(Dalila Alchigh):

Dee looks up, nodding as everyone starts to depart. She smiles up at the men and comments "We did a good job today, gentlemen!" in a much cheerier tone than she had been using, then carefully folds her sailcloth and drags it along into the forecastle with her, making sure it is safe (and possibly making herself a gross but more comfortable place to sleep temporarily).

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(Iken):

Despite the flurry of constructive activity from many passengers and crew onboard the battered but still sailing Greenest Dolphin in the wake of the storm that has cast all into the murkiness of the Sea of Mists, the large Tessouare known as Iken doesn't assist or is even spotted much. When he is ifrequently seen, it is often to stumble as if in something of a daze on his way to the galley for some filling, if not traditionally appetizing, gruel. His routes are still picked with care, avoiding disrupting people in his wake but less clipped than normal, and sometimes he can be heard mumbling the same word to himself, just under his breath as if in a mantra: "Helped." From the creases on the man's forehead, the tautness of his lips, and the occasional quirked eyebrow, the meaning behind this one simple word seems to change from one uttering to the next. Statement, query, prayer? Regardless, the brute seems content enough in dealing with this quandary on his own, and is more often lurking on the forepeak, where those looking over at the figurehead that is the namesake of the vessel they all cling to might just see something prowling around in the mists that coats everything above the sea.

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(Ziyad):

"There's still plenty for us to do to get this ship where it needs to go, but this is a good start," Ziyad states while bobbing his head in satisfaction. "As long as all of us keep working towards this goal, we're guaranteed to be free of these mists soon." With that bit of optimistic encouragement imparted, Ziyad walks off to handle his own tasks.

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(GM):

OOC: The scene fades to black.