Editor's note: I have stripped all in-character thoughts from this log, as well as OOC gamehelp and xcards. In addition, I made two very small edits - one to remove a plainly mistaken emote, and one to fix some formatting when Ariziya spoke. This log is otherwise entirely intact and as it was experienced.
You walk towards the eastern interior.
[The Greenest Dolphin, Forecastle]
You are on [a timeworn naval freighter].
This is the interior of the ship below the forecastle deck, where crew and passengers may quarter. The ceiling is
rather low and the space cramped. While the wood that makes up the surroundings is old and battered and retains a
perpetual particular smell, it looks well-cared for, swabbed with oil and patched between the planks with pitch.
Several hammocks are hung from the ceiling on sliding hooks set over sturdy rungs, allowing them to be opened or
closed and pushed to the side.
(The cramped forecastle is crowded with huddled bodies, many sporting injuries and bandages. There's a hole cracked
through the floor.)
A bilge-sodden oakwood crate is here. A coil of heavy-duty hemp rope has been fixed here, hanging towards a splintery
hole in the floor. A grimy wooden mug is here. (x2) A large, tar-sealed barrel is here.
a tall and swarthy sea-weathered man and a short elderly woman sleep here.
Also here are an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, a pox-scarred guy, and a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny
skin. A stout, square-faced woman is sitting here, holding a grimy wooden mug and a medium sheet of paper in her right
hand. A ruggedly roguish sea captain is standing here, holding a grimy wooden mug and a grimy wooden mug in his right
hand. A hunched, elder woman leaning her weight heavily onto her cane, holding a brass-capped reed cane in her right
hand. A gangling, black-haired sailor is here, holding a medium sheet of paper in his right hand.
Cardinal Exits: the southern Port Cabin: squat cabin door (closed), the northern Starboard Cabin: squat cabin door
(closed), and towards the dingy west end of the forecastle
Other: out: squat cabin door (closed) and a splintery hole in the floor (steep)
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache walks over from towards the dingy west end of the forecastle.
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls limps over from towards the dingy west end of the forecastle.
The words slowly emerging, a ruggedly roguish sea captain growls, "...Wasi..! Did you kill Byren?"
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache ahems quietly, straightening the sleeves of a well-worn,
camel-hair-trimmed riding coat of maroon wool, which is noticably bloody.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin draws a steel-bladed saber with a knobbed bronze hilt from a long, unadorned
leather scabbard with a brass mouth, making no move toward anyone now, standing half in front of an austere Sirdabi
woman with copper eyes.
(Quietly): There's a moment of a gangling, black-haired sailor seeming to waver, eyes subtly widening at a ruggedly
roguish sea captain
You're not sure anyone else notices.
Inaya stalks over to stand beside a gangling, black-haired sailor.
(Quietly): A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache shifts closer to you.
A gangling, black-haired sailor lifts his head, shifting his stance wider, and tips a single nod to a ruggedly roguish
sea captain. "I did!" he exclaims. "But too late! You should have killed him yourself, two summers ago!"
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache follows after you, at her elbow.
OOC: Your pose will read 'an imposing, ebon-dark woman stands beside a gangling, black-haired sailor, facing a ruggedly
roguish sea captain.'.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache stands at an imposing, ebon-dark woman's elbow, looking on, with a
blood-streaked face. (Room Pose Set)
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls limps his way after you too though his eyes are fixed intently
upon a ruggedly roguish sea captain.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin stands in front of an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes, saber in hand.
(Room Pose Set)
An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is standing with a look of dread, half-hidden behind a lofty, ebony-curled
man with tawny skin. (Room Pose Set)
A stout, square-faced woman looks between a gangling, black-haired sailor and a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty
mustache, noting the blood on their clothes.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin slings an iron-banded buckler off his back.
A ruggedly roguish sea captain visibly develops a shocked grimace at a gangling, black-haired sailor's words.
It is midafternoon, the hour of the dolphin.
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls stands close to an imposing, ebon-dark woman, one hand subtly
resting on the hilt of the sword at his hip. (Room Pose Set)
A stout, square-faced woman glances at you.
A pox-scarred guy narrows dark-bronze eyes at a gangling, black-haired sailor, reaching towards a ruggedly roguish sea
captain's elbow as if to grip the captain by the arm.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache subtly glances sidelong at a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin,
pale gold eyes narrowing watchfull at the man's hands and what they do.
A gangling, black-haired sailor looks over at you, then nods stiffly. He turns and walks towards a splintery hole in
the floor, with a tightly poised tread.
A hunched, elder woman remains still, mouth slightly agape as she shifts her gaze around the gathered group.
"He was not alone, captain," Inaya rasps to a ruggedly roguish sea captain, though her eyes are set more on a
pox-scarred guy, really. At a gangling, black-haired sailor's movement, she follows.
A gangling, black-haired sailor goes to stand by a splintery hole in the floor.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin looks at a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache briefly, but his gaze
is sweeping across the entirety of the space, alert.
A ruggedly roguish sea captain looks towards a pox-scarred guy, and purses his lips. He leans closer for a moment.
(Quietly): A ruggedly roguish sea captain shifts closer to a pox-scarred guy.
A stout, square-faced woman glances between the various people inside the forecastle.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache seems to be keeping an eye on a pox-scarred guy.
A pox-scarred guy scowls in dismay at whatever a ruggedly roguish sea captain whispers, and hisses something back.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin seems to be keeping an eye on a pox-scarred guy.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache's left hand rests against his side, inside a well-worn,
camel-hair-trimmed riding coat of maroon wool.
Inaya glances back to a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls, and then without a word just sweeps him
up in one arm to her side, gesturing for a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache and a gangling, black-haired
sailor also. "We have things to discuss. Come."
A gangling, black-haired sailor begins to climb down the scaffolding.
carry striking
A gangling, black-haired sailor climbs away down a splintery hole in the floor.
You pick a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls up and carry him in both your arms.
A stout, square-faced woman seems to be keeping an eye on a ruggedly roguish sea captain.
climb down
You need at least one hand free to climb.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache follows you wordlessly, though his gaze lingers a while on a pox-scarred
guy.
(Quietly): A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin shifts closer to an austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes.
drag ariziya
You grip a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls firmly in one hand, ready to start dragging.
climb down
You begin to climb down the scaffolding.
You climb down a splintery hole in the floor, dragging a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls.
[The Greenest Dolphin, Hold, A Musty Galley]
You are on [a timeworn naval freighter].
This musty galley harbors a continous quiet clamor as crew and passengers eat and attempt to enjoy a bit of leisure in
their cramped confines. A series of trestle tables are bolted to the floor, secure against the motion of even the
roughest sea, and tucked into the back of the space, across from the arch out to the hold, is a cramped kitchen and
food storage area. A few lanterns swing from the ceiling, illuminating the galley with swaying pools of light.
Fixed above, a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope hangs as a climbing aid.
( The grubby kitchen has been freshly stocked with firewood from elsewhere in the hold, next to the small contained
hearth.)
A cramped kitchen serves up thin gruel at all hours. A sturdy wooden crate stamped with a rising sun in a circle is
here.
a fine-boned, sapphire-eyed young woman and a curvy, honey-eyed woman sleep here.
A twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor is standing at a bolted trestle table, holding a grimy wooden mug in his right hand. A
dusky olive-skinned damsel is sitting near a bolted trestle table. A lofty, aquiline-featured man is standing at a lit
small, soot-stained hearth. A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes is taking up more space than she needs
to. A gangling, black-haired sailor is standing here, holding a medium sheet of paper in his right hand.
Cardinal Exits: east through an arch to the hold
Other: a splintery hole in the ceiling (steep)
The steady sound of a chopping cleaver resonates against the butcher's block from the cramped kitchen.
You climb down adroitly, with the aid of a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache climbs over from up a splintery hole in the ceiling.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache climbs down adroitly, skillfully utilizing a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope.
A gangling, black-haired sailor looks over at a lofty, aquiline-featured man, and gives a slight nod. He holds up a
medium sheet of paper, giving it a look. It's crinkled and spattered in blood now.
put ariziya at trestle
You approach a bolted trestle table.
OOC: This action takes 20 seconds.
You put a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls near a bolted trestle table.
You release a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache hops down lightly after waiting for you to manage with a striking,
violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls in tow. His face and clothes are streaked rather obviously with blood.
OOC: You may now perform another action.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man gives a subtle nod to a gangling, black-haired sailor in return, watching the
proceedings in silence, largely impassive.
The ship tranquilly glides on on beneath you.
A gangling, black-haired sailor goes to stand on a bolted trestle table, joining a small crowd, striding over and
jumping up onto the cluttered surface.
A gangling, black-haired sailor is standing on top of the table, spattered in blood and holding a crinkled piece of
paper, on a bolted trestle table. (Room Pose Set)
A subtle smirk curves a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache's lips when he notes a lofty, aquiline-featured
man, and he tongues his gold tooth a moment. He sticks close to you.
A pox-scarred guy climbs over from up a splintery hole in the ceiling.
A pox-scarred guy climbs down adroitly, with the aid of a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope.
A ruggedly roguish sea captain climbs over from up a splintery hole in the ceiling.
A ruggedly roguish sea captain climbs down adroitly, skillfully utilizing a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope.
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls does his best to stand straighter, regaining some kind of
composure after his slightly ungainly descent with a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache and your assistance.
Inaya follows a gangling, black-haired sailor, but stands only next to the table, not upon it, looking up at him.
A ruggedly roguish sea captain goes to stand by a splintery hole in the ceiling, looking towards a gangling,
black-haired sailor.
A gangling, black-haired sailor shouts, "CREW OF THE GREENEST DOLPHIN!"
A twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor looks at a gangling, black-haired sailor disapprovingly as loudness ensues.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache lingers at an imposing, ebon-dark woman's elbow, blood-streaked and
watchful. (Room Pose Set)
A darkly-tanned crewmate runs over from the way east through an arch to the hold, wielding a heavy ship's mop in his
right hand.
A darkly-tanned crewmate lifts a heavy ship's mop valiantly. "Time!" [in Ruvic with an uneven tenor] he yells towards a
gangling, black-haired sailor.
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls stands close to the table, his attention on a gangling,
black-haired sailor. (Room Pose Set)
You keep an eye on a pox-scarred guy.
A ruggedly roguish sea captain gives a darkly-tanned crewmate a long look. He raises a hand to adjust a jaunty
sharkskin captain's hat, and then folds his arms, looking on for a moment.
From the interior of the ship, you can sense that it tranquilly glides on.
A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes keeps herself to herself in the moment, watching with a level of
tension.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin climbs over from up a splintery hole in the ceiling, wielding a steel-bladed
saber with a knobbed bronze hilt in his right hand.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin climbs down adroitly, with the aid of a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man stands a little taller, watching a gangling, black-haired sailor then looks off deeper
into the hold.
Sailors and passengers from all over the ship begin to gather in the galley. (Emit by a gangling, black-haired sailor)
A lofty, aquiline-featured man begins to watch the general direction of eastward.
The boisterous warmth of a lit small, soot-stained hearth grants a steadfast crackling presence.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin looks through the more-and-more crowded galley, beckoning toward a heavyset,
curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes.
A gangling, black-haired sailor reads a medium sheet of paper.
OOC: Your pose will read 'an imposing, ebon-dark woman stands next to a gangling, black-haired sailor, albeit with her
feet on the ground, below him as he stands on the table.'.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache seems to be keeping an eye on a pox-scarred guy.
A twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor stares up at a gangling, black-haired sailor, wide-eyed.
Looking at a medium sheet of paper, a gangling, black-haired sailor exclaims, "Fellow crew!"
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin stands by to block the way to a porthole window.
A gangling, black-haired sailor exclaims, "Too long have we suffered under the sway of these Sabiyyan smugglers!"
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin stops blocking a porthole window.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin stands by to block the way to a splintery hole in the ceiling.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache keeps his left hand just inside the front of a well-worn,
camel-hair-trimmed riding coat of maroon wool, hardly looking at a gangling, black-haired sailor, as he scans the
faces in the crowd, particularly a pox-scarred guy's.
Out of Character: a gangling, black-haired sailor rolled magnetism and the result was a 26.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin slings an iron-banded buckler off his back.
A gangling, black-haired sailor keeps staring at a medium sheet of paper as he talks, sounding a little monotonous, but
at least his voice carries dramatically -- and there seems to be genuine, harsh passion in his words -- augmented by
the blood spatter upon his person.
A gangling, black-haired sailor reads a medium sheet of paper.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache hunches slightly.
The ship flows gently across tranquil waters on beneath you.
A gangling, black-haired sailor says, "Two summers ago, we all saw --"
A gangling, black-haired sailor exclaims, "The slave-children shackled and chained!"
A gangling, black-haired sailor growls, "And we could not throw off those chains then!"
Clenching his free fist, a gangling, black-haired sailor says, "Our very souls were chained by this weight."
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin silently sets himself at the base of the scaffolding, staring hard-faced at
the crowd.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin is poised to block the way upward into the forecastle. (Room Pose Set)
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache's dark brows twitch at a gangling, black-haired sailor's turn of phrase.
His lips curve just slightly, in surprised approval, perhaps.
A pox-scarred guy glowers at a gangling, black-haired sailor, standing silently beside a ruggedly roguish sea captain.
Grimly, a gangling, black-haired sailor says, "Now it's time. Today."
A gangling, black-haired sailor clenches his other fist, crumpling a medium sheet of paper.
A gangling, black-haired sailor shouts, "FOR ALL OF US!"
A darkly-tanned crewmate looks at a gangling, black-haired sailor disapprovingly as loudness ensues.
A darkly-tanned crewmate blinks at the shout, but then bellows happily, "ARRR!" in agreement with a gangling,
black-haired sailor.
A darkly-tanned crewmate waves a heavy ship's mop towards you.
A gangling, black-haired sailor goes to stand near a bolted trestle table, joining a small crowd, jumping down.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache grins reflexively at a darkly-tanned crewmate's mop waving, turning
briefly to look up at you.
Inaya flashes a grin to a darkly-tanned crewmate, quick and bright, though it seems tense, too.
The boisterous warmth of a lit small, soot-stained hearth grants a steadfast crackling presence.
A gangling, black-haired sailor moves towards you in the crowd.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man listens to the speech and gazes off into the distance
A gangling, black-haired sailor puts two fingers to his forehead.
Inaya shifts, then, hefting herself to stand on one of a bolted trestle table's seats, not quite right next to a
gangling, black-haired sailor, but near. She looks over to a pox-scarred guy and a ruggedly roguish sea captain. Then
a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls. "Your captain... your -true- captain. Has... traded you.
Traded your lives, for gold." She pauses, grabbing for something in a pocket.
The ship tranquilly glides on on beneath you.
You get out a medium sheet of paper from a pair of patterned orange sirwaal in your possession.
read paper
You read a medium sheet of paper.
------------------------------------------------------------
a medium sheet of paper
The truth is the Captain, the real Captain, the First Mate
-- has traded your lives for gold. Has brought this upon
you, piece by piece, for two years. Has chosen to cast you
aside, for nothing. Worthless.
Though blessed by luck that the mast did not piece the ship
when it fell it has been left, broken weeks later. Our
mainsail hangs as a jib. The crew stands idle while the
passengers busy themselves with fruitless tasks, in a
desperate bid to survive.
We know better than this. Your captain should know better
than this. We can splint the mast, we can wet the sail. We
can prepare ourselves for the wind to come.
And we shall seek that wind and not stand idle
Front
------------------------------------------------------------
Forging on in her broken voice, Inaya continues. "Has brought this upon you, piece by piece. For two years. Has chosen
to cast you aside, for nothing. Worthless, only-- only fish, to be gutted and sold."
(Hidden) A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache's eyes narrow subtly on a ruggedly roguish sea captain a moment.
The boisterous warmth of a lit small, soot-stained hearth grants a steadfast crackling presence.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man smiles faintly, and looks over at you with an approving nod.
The fog whirls oddly as if unsettled by a breeze, despite the profound stillness of the air.
(At a splintery hole in the ceiling): A ruggedly roguish sea captain narrows his eyes towards you with a grunt, then
mutters aside towards a pox-scarred guy. "W--t's s-- t--k--' ----t? T--- c--t---?"
(Hidden) A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache smirks at a ruggedly roguish sea captain, but moreso, and more
pointedly at a pox-scarred guy.
Around you, the ship calmly moves over glimmering waters.
Losing none of its impenetrable opacity, the fog attenuates into a spectral mist that creeps in swirling silence across
the pale world.
"Though blessed by luck that the mast did not pierce the ship when it fell," Inaya continues, reading, obviously, from
a medium sheet of paper, straining to raise her voice. "It has been left broken. Weeks later, it is not repaired.
Why?" She scowls, glancing over to a ruggedly roguish sea captain and a pox-scarred guy again. "Our mainsail hangs as
a -jib-. Why?"
(At a splintery hole in the ceiling): A pox-scarred guy gives a ruggedly roguish sea captain a headshake and a slight
shrug, still scowling towards you. "Pr-b-bl- m--n-n' m-," [in Sirdabi with a harshly-affected countertenor] grumbles
the first mate.
Calling back towards you gruffly, a ruggedly roguish sea captain exclaims, "To escape th'current, we gotta aim our
course! Not that you helped!"
Gaining confidence, perhaps, a hard edge of anger to her features, Inaya rasps, "The crew stand idle, while the
passengers busy themselves with fruitless tasks, in a desperate bid to survive." She pauses, attention shifting to the
crew, pausing on a darkly-tanned crewmate. "*We know better than this.* Your *Captain* should know better than this."
A twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor glances back and forth between you and a ruggedly roguish sea captain, eyes wide.
Inaya gives a harsh snort at this from a ruggedly roguish sea captain, looking up from a medium sheet of paper. "Aim
our course? Escape the current? With a jib but no mainsail? With three oars?"
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache looks at a ruggedly roguish sea captain in dubious expectation.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man shifts his weight from one foot to the other, watching.
A darkly-tanned crewmate lifts a heavy ship's mop, roaring agreement with you. Several other sailors in the crowd are
also glaring at a ruggedly roguish sea captain, and nodding their agreement with your speech.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin narrows his eyes as he listens, glancing around to take a census of the crowd.
A dusky olive-skinned damsel remains tense, gaze narrowed as she takes in each speaker. Lingering near a twitchy,
topaz-eyed sailor in any case.
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls moves to clamber up onto the tabletop beside you, the process
not exactly graceful though he makes it up there in the end. He grits his teeth, then begins, "I wish to lend my voice
to Inaya's cause, one which I am certain we all share; to escape these mists of misery and make it to shore." [in
Sirdabi] He looks over the gathered faces, jewel-toned eyes hard-edged as he points an accusing finger towards a
ruggedly roguish sea captain. "You have done nothing. Nothing!"
The boisterous warmth of a lit small, soot-stained hearth grants a steadfast crackling presence.
Around you, the ship continues across softly lapping waves.
"Why has the Captain been flogging passengers, and not splinting the mast?" Inaya asks, with a gesture toward a
striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls. She falls quiet, though, giving him the floor with an
acquiescing nod.
A ruggedly roguish sea captain bellows, "LAW MUST BE KEPT!"
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache ahems, chin dipping.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man cocks an eyebrow.
Bristling at the mention of the flogging, a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls draws himself up
straighter and narrows his eyes at a ruggedly roguish sea captain. "You are none of you fools. You know it is Tekra
who runs the ropes on this ship, who controls things. Many of you also know that it is none other than Etennay Tekra
who invited smugglers on board, and who took on this accursed cargo which draws only misfortune and monsters to us."
A pox-scarred guy attempts to grasp a ruggedly roguish sea captain by the closest shoulder, likely trying to calm him.
"We have done what must be done," calls the first mate across the galley. "To keep the Dolphin afloat." A dark-bronze
gaze pins on a gangling, black-haired sailor. "You all know what hardships life has sent our way. We must survive."
(At a bolted trestle table): Inaya cuts a dark look toward a ruggedly roguish sea captain.
You're not sure whether anyone notices you.
Out of Character: a ruggedly roguish sea captain rolled composure at hard difficulty and the result was a pass.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man tilts his head and hums.
"What have you done? You have done nothing!" a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls calls back to a
pox-scarred guy, shaking his head so that his dark curls bob into motion as he raises his voice. "If we are ever to
make it back to our homes, our loved ones and our lives, we must at least -try- and Inaya will do that."
Yelling even louder, a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls shouts, "WHO IS WITH US? WHO IS WITH INAYA?"
Out of Character: a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls rolled magnetism and the result was a 40.
(At a splintery hole in the ceiling): A ruggedly roguish sea captain stiffens, hand falling to the hilt of a
scrap-leather baldric with a leather-hilted broadsword inside -- but then he allows a pox-scarred guy's grasp to calm
him, and simply huffs a breath out through flared nostrils.
A darkly-tanned crewmate raises a heavy ship's mop fiercely.
A darkly-tanned crewmate howls, "INAAAAYAAAA!"
A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes thumps a foot against the floor, and clacks a gauntlet against her
cuirass, making voiceless noise.
"I should think anyone who wishes to survive would rather a real sailor than these incompetents. If they were anything
else would be in Al-Sabbiyah already," a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache says aloud, not stormily, just
loud enough to be heard.
The boisterous warmth of a lit small, soot-stained hearth grants a steadfast crackling presence.
A gangling, black-haired sailor lifts a fist. "Inaya!" he shouts. "Split the mizzen! Save our souls!"
Raising his voice, a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin says, "Excuse me? May I ask a question?"
There's a roar of various bellows and cheers from the galley.
Inaya cuts a look to a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin.
Chin dipping toward his chest, a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache watches a lofty, ebony-curled man with
tawny skin wordlessly from under the shadow of his dark brows.
Earnestly, a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin says, "What is the PLAN?"
"Ina-ya, Ina-ya," a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls shouts from the tabletop, a fist punched into
the air, apparently prepared to lead the cheer, not quite ignoring a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin but
perhaps carried away with the moment.
A twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor steps away from a bolted trestle table, leaving.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man shoots a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin a dark look.
A twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor goes to stand near a splintery hole in the ceiling, joining a pox-scarred guy and a
ruggedly roguish sea captain, very quietly, head ducked.
"That is a question for tomorrow, fool," a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache mutters at a lofty, ebony-curled
man with tawny skin, not maliciously, but with obvious impatience.
Through his teeth, a lofty, aquiline-featured man tells a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin, "Another time,
Sayyid."
A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes stares blankly at a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache and a
lofty, aquiline-featured man for a long few moments, quieting down.
(At a bolted trestle table): Inaya makes a valiant effort to raise her voice to reply to a lofty, ebony-curled man with
tawny skin, but it's no doubt largely lost in the chaos and shouts, and she leaves off, defeated.
Looking past a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin, a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache narrows his eyes
at a twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor, tracking the man's movement. His lips purse.
Along with a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls and some of the rest of the crew, a gangling,
black-haired sailor chants in a stiff baritone,
"Ina-ya!
Ina-ya!
Ina-ya!"
Calling out, louder now, a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin says, "I begged you to tell me the plan before this
nonsense began, and you told me I was not trustworthy. Fine. But do we have one? We replace Paldeo with Inaya. Fine.
But then WHAT? What new mast? We barely had wood for oars. What new sail? We sewed our *shirts* into the one we have!"
Pointing to a twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor, a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin says, "He's our chance of escape.
Right there."
A dusky olive-skinned damsel rises from the table, inching away from all the yelling and along with a twitchy,
topaz-eyed sailor again. (Stand - by a splintery hole in the ceiling -)
A twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor shrinks from a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin's pointing finger, moving
half-behind a pox-scarred guy.
You shift closer to a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls.
(Hidden) You whisper to a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls, "Tell him-- I know how to fix the mast.
The sail we have is hung incorrectly, not useful. It can't catch wind even if there is any."
"These are two different questions, Marzani..." A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache begins to tell a lofty,
ebony-curled man with tawny skin. At the man's indication of a twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor, though, he snorts. "Is he?
Then why have we not escaped?"
Nearly shouting now, a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin says, "It is ONE question! What do you actually propose
we do?"
A lit small, soot-stained hearth flickers and crackles.
A pox-scarred guy cuts dark-bronze eyes towards a twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor, and holds out one arm slanted down as if
to guard him, but then stares back across the galley.
(Hidden) You whisper to a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls, "I propose to get us -home-."
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls casts a pained look over at a twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor, then
glances to you. "Inaya knows how to fix the mast. The sail is hung incorrectly," he says, voice raised above the noise
again. "It cannot catch what wind there might be, as it is."
"Shall we make this quivering bag of boy bones the captain, then?" a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache asks a
lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin, drawing a showman's hand toward a twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor.
From the interior of the ship, you can sense that it drifts on peacefully.
"Who leads and what we do are two questions, fool, and we are deciding one of them here and now. If you cannot
understand, that is your own trouble," a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache mutters.
Frustratedly, a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin says, "Sayyida Inaya! Can you navigate at sea?"
With a loud growl, a ruggedly roguish sea captain says, "Damn Murzuni's got a point! What makes this passenger's plan
better'n mine, ey?!"
A ruggedly roguish sea captain levels a glare up across towards you.
A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes shakes her head a few times, speaking through gritted teeth, "None of
this is dealing with real problem."
"Yes," Inaya rasps, looking to a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin, then a ruggedly roguish sea captain, then a
pox-scarred guy. "I can get us home."
Yelling helpfull again, especially towards a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin, a striking, violet-eyed youth
with chaotic black curls shouts, "SHE PROPOSES TO GET US HOME!"
Nodding, a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin says, "Tell us how."
roll intuition + sailing!
Out of Character: You rolled intuition and sailing and the result was a 73.
Around you, the ship calmly moves over glimmering waters.
"I have crewed ships since I was twelve years old," Inaya rasps, eyes narrowing on a pox-scarred guy. "Longer, I think,
than most of the crew has been breathing."
A gangling, black-haired sailor stops chanting, looking towards a ruggedly roguish sea captain and a pox-scarred guy.
"Inaya isn't any common passenger," he calls, with great vehemence. "She's got the ken of a captain!"
Half-shouting across the galley, a gangling, black-haired sailor tells a pox-scarred guy, "And you try to save our
bodies, but a body can't go on without a soul!"
A gangling, black-haired sailor shouts, "YOU DAMN US, TEKRA!"
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache's dark brows arch slightly at your explanation, as if he is a little
surprised, but not shocked. He frowns a little, mustache bowing downward, as if impressed.
A lit small, soot-stained hearth flickers and crackles.
Fist tightening onto a scrap-leather baldric with a leather-hilted broadsword inside as he glares towards a gangling,
black-haired sailor, a ruggedly roguish sea captain growls, "...how dare ya talk to her like that!"
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin closes his eyes briefly.
A howl in a terrible screech can be heard from the way east through an arch to the hold.
"We die, if we do nothing," Inaya rasps, voice breaking a bit now, one hand gesturing at the noise from outside. She
clears her throat. "We drift, in this mist, as we have for weeks, ifrit at our doors. And we die."
A roar in an inhuman drone can be distantly made out from the way east through an arch to the hold.
A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes clenches one hand into a first, "Sailing's no good alone. What we need
to do is deal with the mystical!"
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin points at a heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man looks over at a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin and a heavyset, curvaceous
virago with amethyst eyes, and then at you. "What have you to say to that?"
A dusky olive-skinned damsel gives a faint nod of agreement a heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes's way.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache tenses at the roar outside, but keeps his gaze level. He steals a glance
eastward, mouth pulling to one side, at a heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes's comment. "There is a plan
for this, too. At least as worthy as asking the piss-pants boy to cry at the wind - again."
A roar in an inhuman drone can be heard from the way east through an arch to the hold.
Expectantly, a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin says, "Well?"
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache glances up at you, seeming to hesitate to answer himself, trying to catch
her eye.
A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes glares at a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache, posture
rigid, saying nothing for the moment.
"The Captain and the Mate have done -nothing-. Will do nothing," Inaya half-whispers, eyes narrowing on a ruggedly
roguish sea captain and a pox-scarred guy. Looking to a heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes, then a lofty,
ebony-curled man with tawny skin, she scowls. "We have a plan. Yes."
A ruggedly roguish sea captain draws a leather-hilted broadsword from a scrap-leather baldric.
A lit small, soot-stained hearth burns on in a bright dance of oranges and yellows.
"It is the accursed cargo which draws only misfortune and monsters to us," a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic
black curls calls out to a heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes and a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny
skin. "The cargo which none other than Tekra allowed aboard. It is that we must rid ourselves of."
Inaya catches a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache's look, pausing for a moment.
Evenly, a lofty, aquiline-featured man says, "Peace. We only want to return to our lives safely. Without bloodshed."
A gangling, black-haired sailor might have something to say about cursed cargo, mouth opening in a confused manner, but
then he's blinking as a ruggedly roguish sea captain's sword is drawn. He's stepping back, one hand going beneath his
ragged tunic.
Stepping backward to block the hole more thoroughly, a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin says, "Whatever happens
down here, there are unarmed women above. It stays here."
Hand drifting inside a well-worn, camel-hair-trimmed riding coat of maroon wool, a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty
mustache suggests to a ruggedly roguish sea captain with narrowed eyes, "We can all get home, Paldeo. Or not."
Inaya tenses, then, at a gangling, black-haired sailor's gesture, her attention returning to a ruggedly roguish sea
captain. She puts a hand to a gangling, black-haired sailor's forearm.
Your heart is beating a little quickly.
There is a slight soreness from your wounds but you are on the mend.
| Health: 81% | End: 100% | Will: 100% | > |
| Sirdabi | standing
A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes keeps her axe at her belt, though she stances up as if preparing to
take a hit, watching each party as much as the other.
A roar in an inhuman drone can be distantly made out from the way east through an arch to the hold.
"Oh, do you not wish to brawl, captain?" a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls calls out to a ruggedly
roguish sea captain mockingly, his hand returning to the hilt of his own sword.
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls stands atop a bolted trestle table, one hand on the hilt of his
undrawn sword. (Room Pose Set)
"The last thing we need," a dusky olive-skinned damsel says quietly - probably too quietly, "Is to waste more medical
supplies." [in Sirdabi with a youthful soprano]
A lofty, aquiline-featured man me's glower now turns in a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls's
direction.
The ship tranquilly glides on on beneath you.
(At a splintery hole in the ceiling): A twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor mutters, "C-p'n P-l..." [in Sirdabi with a
youthfully-cracking tenor]
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache , too, glares subtly at a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black
curls, at the same time a lofty, aquiline-featured man does.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man nods to a dusky olive-skinned damsel. "An excellent point."
Out of Character: a ruggedly roguish sea captain rolled composure at hard difficulty and the result was a pass.
The boisterous warmth of a lit small, soot-stained hearth grants a steadfast crackling presence.
A ruggedly roguish sea captain grits his teeth. He leans back in his stance. "You're a pile of fools," he growls,
thunderously projecting his very-able voice around the galley. "Listenin' to lies and sailor's superstitions."
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin watches the crowd warily now.
"You may settle your grievances at another time, Sayyid," a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache mutters aside
to a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls, a little irritably.
A ruggedly roguish sea captain sheathes a leather-hilted broadsword in a scrap-leather baldric, glancing towards the
hold, towards the distant chains.
A ruggedly roguish sea captain squints towards east through an arch to the hold.
Tone growing more and more perplexed as he stares in that direction, a ruggedly roguish sea captain says, "...but there
will be no more blood today..."
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache scans towards east through an arch to the hold.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin scans towards east through an arch to the hold.
A twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor sags in relief, and reaches out to hold a pox-scarred guy's nearest arm.
Inaya raises her broken voice again, staring a ruggedly roguish sea captain and a pox-scarred guy down from where she
stands on the bench of the table. "I can get us home," she rasps. "And then--"
A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes nods once in the direction of a ruggedly roguish sea captain with a
modicum of respect, before following that gaze.
A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes peers towards east through an arch to the hold.
"At least there is one thing we agree on," a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls calls back to a
ruggedly roguish sea captain and then narrows his eyes on a pox-scarred guy. "Tell them!"
Inaya seems as though about to continue, but does not, looking aside to a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic
black curls instead.
Reluctantly, a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin says, "*IS* there a cursed cargo aboard this ship?"
"Yes. And we know the way to find it," Inaya sort of barks, with obvious effort, toward a lofty, ebony-curled man with
tawny skin.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache turns his gaze from the eastern archway to harden on a pox-scarred guy,
following a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls's and a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin's
questions.
A pox-scarred guy grips a twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor's hand in a swift squeeze, then shoves him back. "Not today,"
replies the first mate, glowering darkly around the galley.
A roar in an inhuman drone can be distantly made out from the way east through an arch to the hold.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin turns to look expectantly to a pox-scarred guy.
A gangling, black-haired sailor tears his intent focus away from a ruggedly roguish sea captain, hand falling from his
side. "What's this about cursed cargo?" he calls towards you. "Captain Inaya!"
"She does not deny it," a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls adds, calling the words out as he
gestures to a pox-scarred guy, letting his hand drop back to his side.
The boisterous warmth of a lit small, soot-stained hearth grants a steadfast crackling presence.
A darkly-tanned crewmate roars, "CAPPIN INAYA!"
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls stands atop a bolted trestle table. (Room Pose Set)
"The Captain and Mate are crew, still," Inaya rasps then, attention returning to a ruggedly roguish sea captain and a
pox-scarred guy. "They are not to be harmed, unless they seek to give harm. Which I am certain they will not. They
care for their crew."
A darkly-tanned crewmate pumps a heavy ship's mop in the air, failing to read the now-grim air of the galley.
"They want to return to port, too," Inaya adds, with a smirk, her attention catching to a darkly-tanned crewmate.
Something in her form relaxes, somewhat, tension unwinding like a coiled spring.
Quietly, a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man says, "This is my ship..."
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin sheathes a steel-bladed saber with a knobbed bronze hilt in a long, unadorned
leather scabbard with a brass mouth.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man tells a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man, "And it shall be returned to you, when we make
land."
Inaya gives a quiet snort. "I do not want your ship. I only want to sail it, for a time," she rasps.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin wears an iron-banded buckler slung across the back.
"Since you cannot," Inaya adds, acidly.
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man hurls a grimy wooden mug at you.
A grimy wooden mug completely misses you.
roll composure at hard!
Out of Character: You rolled composure at hard difficulty and the result was a pass.
Inaya doesn't even flinch. She just ticks an eyebrow upward at a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache snorts at a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man, pale gold eyes darkening
with just a hint of murder. He licks his lips. His hand withdraws from inside a well-worn, camel-hair-trimmed riding
coat of maroon wool... empty. He folds his arms.
A roar in a terrible screech can be heard from the way east through an arch to the hold.
A roar in an inhuman drone can be distantly made out from the way east through an arch to the hold.
With a grunt of effort, a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls clambers down from the top of the table
not much more gracefully than he made his way up there. He glances to a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man and the mug,
clicks his tongue once. "Temper, temper..." [in Ruvic]
"And you will have to behave like an adult, Sayyid," a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache mutters to a
striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls, not caring who hears him.
A lit small, soot-stained hearth flickers and crackles.
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man scowls darkly. "Well, if you want to captain the Dolphin for a time --" He gives a
viciously harsh shrug at you. "Let's see how well ya do." He can't do much. It's evident that the majority of the
crew, led by a gangling, black-haired sailor and a darkly-tanned crewmate, are on your side.
With grim satisfaction, a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man says, "The prisoner's missin'. What're ya gonna do about
that."
Around you, the ship floats smoothly upon calm waves.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache's dark brows loft at a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man's comment, with
curiosity more than concern. A smirk takes the corner of his mouth and he glances up to see your face.
A dusky olive-skinned damsel brushes some hair out of her face, checking on a twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor after the
shove.
Inaya tips her head in an overly formal nod to a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man, nearly half a bow. "Nothing at all,
Captain," she rasps in reply. "I intend to let him work."
A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes blinks, once, at a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man's words, before
looking over at you.
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls stands to the side of a bolted trestle table, attention mostly
on a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man. (Room Pose Set)
Appearing satisfied with your answer, a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache relaxes visibly. His gaze is drawn
toward the archway, still curious.
Raising an eyebrow and folding his arms, a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man says, "That man's a murderer. And yer first
choice as Captain of the Dolphin is to let him roam free, huh?"
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache murmurs aside to you, speculatively, "He may need help."
A twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor peers worriedly through the arch, still behind a pox-scarred guy.
Wordlessly, a lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin begins to edge his way toward the arch.
"He wants to live as much as we, Paldeo," a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache tells a ruggedly roguish
middle-aged man. "And he is cleverer about it than you are. He knows, as you don't, that he needs us to reach land."
"That man is our hope," Inaya half-whispers, her voice breaking. She coughs aside a couple of times, clears her throat.
A lofty, ebony-curled man with tawny skin walks east through an arch to the hold, walking away, into the hold.
A dusky olive-skinned damsel reaches out to touch a small obsidian mirror.
(Hidden) A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache whispers to you, "Do you think Marzani will accost him?"
Scornfully, a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man asks, "Your hope to murder more of -my- crew?"
A lit small, soot-stained hearth burns on in a bright dance of oranges and yellows.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache gets out a squat, dark-amber bottle from a tasseled barracan mizuda of
darkest indigo adorned with beads in his possession.
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man reaches up to adjust a jaunty sharkskin captain's hat.
(Hidden) You whisper to a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache, "Perhaps. But-- he will follow Captain's orders,
no doubt, yes?"
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache rummages between a wide, bronze-buckled leather belt backed with a red
sash and his own belly, pulling out a squat, dark-amber bottle. He calls abruptly to a ruggedly roguish middle-aged
man, "Here!" and underhands it to him. "This will keep you quiet."
"My crew," Inaya corrects a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man dryly. "Will not be harmed."
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache approaches a splintery hole in the ceiling.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache offers a squat, dark-amber bottle to a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man.
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man accepts a squat, dark-amber bottle from a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty
mustache.
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man reflexively catches a squat, dark-amber bottle.
(Hidden) Looking up at her with a grim smirk, a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache whispers to you, "Only if
she orders him before he's killed the wretch."
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man tilts a squat, dark-amber bottle, looking at it in silence for a moment.
A pox-scarred guy turns a slow look on a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man, and then doesn't even bother to hide a groan
of exasperation.
(At a splintery hole in the ceiling): Looking up at the sound of the groan, a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man speaks,
"G-mm- - br--k, -t-nn--. --- kn-w..."
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache winks at a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man, gaze passing a pox-scarred
guy on its way. "There's more where that came from."
"Ariziya," Inaya rasps abruptly to a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls. "Find sayyid Rostam. Or
yell, that he may hear you. The prisoner is not to be detained or harmed, unless he offers harm."
(At a splintery hole in the ceiling): A pox-scarred guy speaks, "- -----? ----'s --- ---'-- ---!"
A pox-scarred guy faces a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man, arguing quietly, at a splintery hole in the ceiling. (Room
Pose Set)
"Yes, Inaya," a striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls says, just starting off out through the arch with
a smug look to a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man.
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man faces a pox-scarred guy, arguing quietly over a squat, dark-amber bottle. (Room
Pose Set)
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls limps east through an arch to the hold.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache snorts quietly, seeming amused by the exchange between you and the
departing youth.
A shout in a lilting, honeyed tenor can be distantly made out from a splintery hole in the ceiling.
"ROSTAM..."
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache nods approvingly at you, then lets out a tittered blurt at the yelling.
A yell in a low-toned baritone can be distantly made out from the way east through an arch to the hold.
"I AM WITH THE OTHERS. I AM HELPING."
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache laughs and laughs.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man says, "Well."
A shout in a lilting, honeyed tenor can be heard from a splintery hole in the ceiling.
"THE PRISONER IS NOT TO BE HARMED, YES?" [in Irzali]
A roar in an inhuman drone can be distantly made out from the way east through an arch to the hold.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache mutters to you and a lofty, aquiline-featured man, once he's mostly
collected himself, looking in that moment rather tired. "I hope the wretch appreciates his benefactors, hmm?"
Turning back to a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man and a pox-scarred guy, Inaya steps down from her perch on the bench,
stepping their way. "I will need the keys," she rasps. It's unkind, perhaps, but she's entirely business, expectant.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache glances over toward a twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor and a dusky
olive-skinned damsel, brushing a curled knuckle down each side of his brush stroke mustache, thoughtful.
move paldeo
You go to move near a splintery hole in the ceiling, joining a small crowd.
OOC: This action takes 20 seconds.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man exhales a wry laugh at a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache's comment.
A lit small, soot-stained hearth flickers and crackles.
OOC: You may now perform another action.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache looks back at you then, whatever he was thinking about forgotten
momentarily as he grins impishly at her, flashing his gold tooth. "Of course, captain." He pops a jaunty indigo turban
pinned with a black kalij feather of his head with one quick motion and upends it.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache gets out a slim, long-necked iron key from a jaunty indigo turban pinned
with a black kalij feather in his possession.
"I believe you know which -this- is," a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache says, holding up a slim,
long-necked iron key for you, with a smug smirk.
Glancing away from a pox-scarred guy and still cradling a squat, dark-amber bottle in one hand, a ruggedly roguish
middle-aged man says, "... my keys were stolen."
The ship drifts on peacefully on beneath you.
Inaya glances aside to a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache at this, perhaps surprised. If she is, she covers
it pretty well.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache offers a slim, long-necked iron key to you.
You may either accept or refuse.
accept
You accept a slim, long-necked iron key from a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache.
A pox-scarred guy blinks and stares at a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache, mouth opening and then shutting
with a hard click of teeth... that grind together a moment later.
"I can see that," Inaya remarks, again that dry, perhaps faintly amused tone to her rasping, broken voice.
"I believe they say 'commandeered', my friend," a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache assures a ruggedly
roguish middle-aged man, as he pulls one foot up onto a chair at a bolted trestle table, and slips his fingers into
the shoe.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache gets out a rusty padlock key from low leather shoes with upturned tips
and colorful stitching in his possession.
(At a splintery hole in the ceiling): A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man grumbles, "Not my friend."
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache pulls a rusty padlock key out between his two fingers and offers it over
to you with a flick the wrist, letting his foot drop back to the floor.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache offers a rusty padlock key to you.
You may either accept or refuse.
A gangling, black-haired sailor puts a medium sheet of paper on a bolted trestle table, with a quiet sigh of relief,
watching you.
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls limps over from the way east through an arch to the hold.
A darkly-tanned crewmate falls in with you.
(At a splintery hole in the ceiling): "We do not need to be friends, sayyid," Inaya replies in more of a whisper, now.
"We only need to get home. Then you may have her back."
accept
You accept a rusty padlock key from a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache.
(At a splintery hole in the ceiling): A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache shifts closer to you.
(Hidden) A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache whispers to you, "However, we WILL need to discover who opened
the padlock. Elsewise, there's not much point in having a key."
A lofty, aquiline-featured man says, "You will of course be treated as our guests, with all the comforts afforded to
the most illustrious of passengers."
A lofty, aquiline-featured man says, "More or less."
A roar in an inhuman drone can be distantly made out from the way east through an arch to the hold.
With dubious resentment, a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man says, "As though anyone would ever give back a beauty of a
ship as this."
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache settles a jaunty indigo turban pinned with a black kalij feather back on
his head and a jaunty angle.
In a low tone, a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man tells you, "You're a fool to lemme live. 'Cuz I'll take her back from
you, mutineer."
A pox-scarred guy sighs.
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls goes to lean near the way east through an arch to the hold.
(At a splintery hole in the ceiling): This pauses Inaya, her head tilting as she regards a ruggedly roguish middle-aged
man now, more than a pox-scarred guy, for once. "She is beautiful, captain. But I have other obligations. If you would
-like-, I can arrange your death. But I do not wish it."
A lit small, soot-stained hearth flickers and crackles.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache tells a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man with effusive passion, "I would,
my friend, BELIEVE me. I can't get onto land fast enough, and your voyage has left me with the unshakeable conviction
to never, ever, set foot on a sea vessel again. Perhaps not even a river vessel. Ever. If I find one in the
netherworld I may just stay where I am for eternity."
Speaking up abruptly and with certain tight force in the words, a pox-scarred guy says, "No, he would not -like-. Thank
you, Captain Inaya."
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls watches you a little longer and then slowly, quietly slips out.
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls straightens to stand near the way east through an arch to the
hold.
A striking, violet-eyed youth with chaotic black curls limps east through an arch to the hold.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache eyes a pox-scarred guy with subtle suspicion, much moreso than a ruggedly
roguish middle-aged man, after the exchange with you.
"As you say, sayyid," Inaya replies to a pox-scarred guy then, with another of her overly courteous half-bows.
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man looks at a pox-scarred guy, then down at a squat, dark-amber bottle. He uncorks it.
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man takes a drink from a squat, dark-amber bottle.
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man turns away.
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man begins to climb up the scaffolding.
A ruggedly roguish middle-aged man climbs away up a splintery hole in the ceiling.
A pox-scarred guy turns after a ruggedly roguish middle-aged man.
A pox-scarred guy begins to climb up the scaffolding.
A pox-scarred guy climbs away up a splintery hole in the ceiling.
At a short distance toward a splintery hole in the ceiling, you see: A pox-scarred guy climbs over from down a
splintery hole in the floor.
At a short distance toward a splintery hole in the ceiling, you see: A pox-scarred guy climbs up adroitly, with the aid
of a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope.
At a short distance toward a splintery hole in the ceiling, you see: A pox-scarred guy falls in with a ruggedly roguish
middle-aged man.
A lofty, aquiline-featured man says, "Well, still in one piece."
l
[You are standing near a splintery hole in the ceiling.]
[The Greenest Dolphin, Hold, A Musty Galley]
You are on [a timeworn naval freighter].
This musty galley harbors a continous quiet clamor as crew and passengers eat and attempt to enjoy a bit of leisure in
their cramped confines. A series of trestle tables are bolted to the floor, secure against the motion of even the
roughest sea, and tucked into the back of the space, across from the arch out to the hold, is a cramped kitchen and
food storage area. A few lanterns swing from the ceiling, illuminating the galley with swaying pools of light.
Fixed above, a coil of heavy-duty hemp rope hangs as a climbing aid.
( The grubby kitchen has been freshly stocked with firewood from elsewhere in the hold, next to the small contained
hearth.)
A cramped kitchen serves up thin gruel at all hours. A grimy wooden mug is here. A sturdy wooden crate stamped with a
rising sun in a circle is here.
a fine-boned, sapphire-eyed young woman and a curvy, honey-eyed woman sleep here.
A twitchy, topaz-eyed sailor is standing at a splintery hole in the ceiling, holding a grimy wooden mug in his right
hand. A dusky olive-skinned damsel is standing near a splintery hole in the ceiling. A lofty, aquiline-featured man is
standing at a lit small, soot-stained hearth. A heavyset, curvaceous virago with amethyst eyes is taking up more space
than she needs to. A gangling, black-haired sailor is standing near a bolted trestle table. A plump, nimble fellow
with a dainty mustache lingers at your elbow, blood-streaked and watchful, holding a small utilitarian knife in his
right hand. A darkly-tanned crewmate is here, wielding a heavy ship's mop in his right hand.
Cardinal Exits: east through an arch to the hold
Other: a splintery hole in the ceiling (steep)
The old ship creaks and rocks, a stuffy breath of musty brine stirring through the dim recesses of the hold.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache flashes a tooth, gold-gleaming grin at a lofty, aquiline-featured man.
A plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache is no longer following you.
"Quite so, ibn Musa. Are you surprised?" a plump, nimble fellow with a dainty mustache asks a lofty, aquiline-featured
man.
Inaya releases a slow breath, tension plainly unwinding in the Salawi's massive form. "I am grateful," she whispers,
looking aside to a lofty, aquiline-featured man.