[Flashback] Sailing Lessons, Part 1 (Completed)

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

17 Fall 511 AV, Riverfall. 1:00 p.m. It was a hot, humid, windless day. The surface of the water was like glass, except for the gentle ripples that managed to make the half-mile journey from the base of an unbelievably high waterfall. On this day there were two big ships in port. Dock workers scurried around them like ants, unloading and loading cargo. It looked like hard, hot work under a hard, hot sun. Next to the main section of the harbor was a area comprised of several smaller docks, which appeared to be home to Riverfall's fishing fleet. It looked to Daske like most of the fleet was docked. He had asked a man at the tavern about it and was told matter-of-factly, “Sailin' ships gener'ly require wind if they be wantin' to go somewhere, and since there ain't no wind, nobody's goin' anywhere.” He had given Daske a dismissive look, as if to say, “Any idiot knows that.” Beyond the fishing fleet was the last section of the harbor, a hodge-podge of rickety docks hosting twenty or so small to medium sized vessels. This was the area Daske was interested in. One Gertrude Gerson had a boat for sale here. Or so he had been told. He sauntered down a flight of stone steps trying to look like he was supposed to be there, and then on to the gang plank that led to the dock. Someone had explained to him that docks rise and fall with the tide, so they can't be built directly off land. Instead, they float a few feet off and a gang plank bridges the gap. The land end remains stationary while the other end rises and falls with the dock. This struck Daske as an incredibly clever idea. It didn't take long to find the boat he was looking for. Only two boats had For Sale signs on them and the other one was a barge of some sort. The one Daske was looking for was a Casinor, and as soon as he saw it he knew he was going to buy it. He had been told it was old but sound. Daske couldn't speak to its soundness, but it did indeed look well used. What little research he had been able to do led him to believe that he should be able to get it for under 200 gm. He certainly hoped that was true, because he couldn't afford any more than that. He had some 300 in gold, but he needed to hold a 100 out for living expenses and supplies. He rubbed the back of his fingers along the ragged scar that started just above his left ear and ended at the left edge of his upper lip where it created the impression of a permanent snarl. He pondered how best to approach the negotiation. “You gawkin' or visitin'?” Daske jumped. The gravelly female voice seemed to come out of nowhere. He looked around and eventually spotted a heavy-set, stalky woman sitting in the cockpit of the Casinor, where she had been watching him all along. She looked to be in her fifties or maybe even her sixties. Time had not been kind to her face and her gray, stringy hair hung limply down to her shoulders. Her lips were pressed tightly together and she looked pissed. Daske couldn't think of anything to say, but it didn't matter because the old woman continued. “If yer sellin' somethin', you'd best be movin' along cuz I ain't buyin'. On the other hand, if yer buyin' somethin', you best come aboard before one of them big blue bastards wanders by and shoves you into the water outta sheer meanness.” She leaned back and spat tobacco juice over the side. “And if you're just standin' around gawkin', you best git before I call a bluesy over here myself and tell 'im you tried to molest me.” Daske still couldn't think of anything to say. Which was too bad because he was pretty sure this woman was the owner of the boat, which meant the negotiation was not getting off to a good start. At least not from his point of view. The old woman glared at him for a while and then opened her mostly toothless mouth and started to laugh. It was a full out belly laugh and went on for what seemed to Daske to be an inordinately long time, although it was probably only a few seconds. “Hon,” she said. “Why don't you climb on board and we can talk about how badly I'm gonna gouge you for this here boat. Call me Gert, by the way.”

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

“Tagard built her himself.” Gert was showing him around the boat. “He was my companion, by the way. He died a few years back. Anyway, you can see he put the traveller over the cabin there.” She pointed at the cabin but since Daske had no idea what a traveller might be, he didn't know what to look for. “Lotsa folks have it runnin' right across the cockpit, which is an accident lookin' fer a place to happen if ya ask me. 'Specially if you got a long tiller like this boat has.” She pointed at the long pole extending from the back of the boat about halfway along the eight foot length of the cockpit. Then she climbed on to the roof of the cabin and took hold of a long spar extending out from the base of what Daske assumed was the mast, it's entire length wrapped in some kind of bulging bag. “Mains'l is showin' its age, but it's not blown out yet. It'll do you just fine as long as you ain't lookin' for speed. Jib's in good shape, by the way.” Daske guessed that mains'l might be sailor speak main sail, which was apparently folded up and stuffed in a long bag which was then tied to the spar. He had no idea what a jib might be and she hadn't pointed at anything when she said it. Next she pointed toward the front of the boat and said, “Main ground tackle's a forty pound kedge. There's a thirty pound plow b'low deck deck. Chain an' rode's in good shape.” Daske nodded knowledgeably. He had no idea what ground tackle was and he couldn't imagine what he would do with a plow on a sailing boat. The old woman stepped through the open cabin door and disappeared from view. Daske followed and nearly fell through the hatch as he found himself on a four-step ladder leading down into the cabin, most of which appeared to be below the waterline. The cabin was dimly lit, with the only light coming from three small portholes on each side of the main cabin area. Standing at the bottom of the ladder looking toward the bow of the boat, he let his eyes adjust for a moment. Then he began to survey the small space that would be his home for the foreseeable future. It was even hotter here than on deck. And there was a moldy smell in the room. The old woman pointed to his immediate left and said, “Galley.” Then to his right. “Aft berth.” He peered around to the right and realized that it opened onto a space under the cockpit. It was occupied almost entirely by a double bed and had very little headroom. The “Galley” appeared to be limited to a small cooking stove and a work bench. “Storage back there,” she said, pointing to an opening to his left and behind. This space, too, was under the cockpit but was smaller than the aft berth. “That's where I keep the jib and a stays'l. And the plow, of course.” There was a fair amount of stuff packed away in the space but nothing he could immediately identify. “Main Cabin,” she stated simply as she made her way toward the front end of the boat. The main cabin had a padded wooden bench on each side separated by a walk way. They could easily accommodate two people on each side. Three would be a bit crowded. This appeared to be where life below deck was mostly be lived. Daske was beginning to get a sense of just how small his new home was. “The seats can be used as bunks in a pinch, by the way,” added Gert. “Head to the left. Oil heater and some more storage to the right.” She was standing just past the main cabin. Daske looked into the room on the left. It appeared to be the toilet. His nose crinkled at the unpleasant odor coming from the tiny room. He wasn't sure why she called it a head, but it was beginning to dawn on him that sailing had an entire language of its own and that he was going to have to learn to speak it. “V-berth,” she said simply, pointing to what was indeed a V-shaped cabin filling out the bow of the boat. It too was occupied almost entirely by a double led. It suddenly occurred to Daske that there were no doors anywhere below deck, not even for the “head”. Apparently privacy was not a high priority on a boat.

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

3:00 p.m. “How did you know I was looking for a boat?” Daske asked, scowling at his tea. They were sitting in the kitchen of Gert's modest apartment, which was located in a maze of narrow streets and alleys that constituted one of the poorer sections of town. She had dragged him here almost against his will. Now they were eating some excellent bread and drinking tea. She laughed. “You were askin' around about boats. News travels fast. When you showed up, it wasn't too hard to figure out you were the one doin' the asking.” She leaned toward him and said in a conspiratorial voice, “You stand out like a sore thumb, you know? You look strange. You talk strange. And goin' around askin' questions will get you noticed real fast, by the way.” She took a sip of her tea and savored the taste for a moment before continuing. “Ain't none of my business, but I'm thinkin' maybe you don't wanna be drawin' attention to yerself.” “What are you getting at?” He asked sharply. “You accusing me of something?” “Don't be gettin' yer sails twisted up, Hon.” She said, straightening up. “Like I said, it ain't none of my business and I ain't about to go pryin' into your life without an invite.” She took a bite of bread, chewed it carefully and swallowed. She followed it with the remainder of her tea. “You got the look of somebody who's on the run, that's all. And somebody on the run gener'ly wants to avoid drawin' attention to himself.” Daske busied himself with his bread and tea. He noticed a slight tremor in his left hand and consciously stilled the movement. She was right, of course. He was on the run. He had killed a man, stolen his money, and fled to Riverfall. But he was pretty sure he didn't have a sign around his neck proclaiming “Run Away Slave!” What did this sly old hag know about him? And how did she know it? It was like she could see right through him. He rubbed the back of his fingers along the scar on his face while he weighed how to respond. The woman was watching him, waiting for him to say something. “How do you figure that?” He finally asked. She showed him a toothless grin. “Hon, I've been around a long time. Probably longer than I've a right to, by the way. When you've lived as long as I've lived and seen the things I've seen and done the things I've done, you get pretty good at readin' people.” She paused to refill her tea cup. Daske shook his head when she offered some more to him. She put the kettle down and brushed her stringy hair out of her face. “But I'm not yer problem. Yer problem is that there's others 'round here who are real good at readin' people too. That's why I brought you here. To get you outta sight 'til we figure out how to make you look like just another low-life. You're pretty safe here, by the way. At least from the Law. The Blues don't come here much. They leave us alone to take care of ourselves, as long as nothin' spills out into other parts of the city. But I can't vouch for your safety if you got bounty hunters on yer tail. They ain't afraid to come in here. Hell, some of 'em live here.” “Thank you very much,” said Daske angrily as he pushed himself away from the table. “But I'm not looking for a mother just now, and I certainly don't need takin' care of. I can take care of myself. I'll thank you to stay out of my personal affairs.” He stood up. “I think I'd best be going now.” She watched him put his heavy coat back on and move toward the door. Then she said, “Thought you were looking to buy my boat.” Daske turned and glared at her, looking for some sign that she was making fun of him. The last thing he wanted was a meddling old woman poking around in his life. And he certainly didn't want her taking charge of any part of his life. He had killed a man to gain his freedom and he wasn't about to give any of it up. But he did need the boat. He sat down and thought. He figured he'd start at 150, she'd come back at 250 and they would negotiated to around 200 or maybe even 175 if he was lucky. Then he could get the hell out of here. “I'll give you 150 gold for it,” he said curtly. “Sold.” "What?” “I said, 'sold'. Do we have a deal or not?” “Uh … yeah. I mean. Sure, it's a deal.” “You're Svefra.” She stated. “What the hell does that have to do with it?” He shouted. He was thoroughly confused now. One minute she's prying into his personal life. The next minute she's selling him a boat. Then she wants to talk about him being Svefra. Her ability to constantly keep him off balance was maddening. She seemed to always be one step ahead of him, which meant she was always in control of the conversation. He wanted to punch her in the face. “It has everything to do with it,” she said quietly. She heated some water and got some more tea steeping in a kettle. While she did that, Daske wandered into what passed for a parlor. There appeared to be two more rooms off the parlor. Bedrooms maybe. There was a stone fireplace, but no fire going. Over the mantle was some kind of curved sword with strange markings inscribed on the blade and hilt. Light from the kitchen glinted off the polished steel. “A cutlass,” said Gert, who had followed him into the parlor. “It's a slashing weapon, unlike that long sword you got there, which is more of a thrusting weapon. Cutlass is a Svefra's weapon of choice.” “Who's is it?” He asked. “Why, it's mine of course.” She said. “Can you use it?” “Oh yes. I can use it.” There was something both confident and wistful in her voice. They went back into the kitchen and she poured them some more tea. “My Tagard was Svefra. We sailed the Suvan Sea together for nearly forty years. His pod expelled him when he took up with me. I'm not Svefra, you see. I hear tell they aren't so rigid about outsiders these days, but they were back then. But we had a good run of it, my Tagard and me. You wouldn't know it to look at me now, but back in the day I was hell on wheels in a fight. That ol' cutlass sent more than a few men to their death.” She seemed to disappear into some kind of private world of her own, perhaps remembering hard-fought battles against pirates, or maybe they were the pirates attacking merchant ships. Or maybe she was remembering romantic nights under the stars with her lover. Daske felt like he was somehow standing on sacred ground. He waited in silence while the old woman finished whatever holy work she needed to do. “So you see, Hon,” she said after a few minutes. “You bein' Svefra makes all the difference in the world. But I have a question, if you don't mind me askin'." Daske bristled but then forced himself to relax. “Sure,” he said grudgingly. “How is it that a Svefra don't know squat about sailin'?” “Why do you say that?” “Hon, I just spent an hour showin' you around my boat and it was pretty obvious you had no idea what I was talkin' about.”

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

9:00 p.m. Daske was sitting at an empty table gulping down a passable meal that had been brought to him by a human woman who called herself Chell. There were several women working in the Tavern and it reminded Daske just how long it had been since he had been with a woman. But his funds were limited and he couldn't afford luxuries like that. Besides, he was waiting for Gert. She had said she had some business to attend to and would meet him here later. She was expecting him to tell her his story. He finished his meal and was pushing the platter away when he felt a heavy hand on his left shoulder. He snapped his head around to take in a large, middle-aged man. He wore simple but adequate clothes, including a heavy cape that covered most of his upper body and could easily hide a weapon. He looked tough and his scars told the story of a man who had been in a few fights. He stared into Daske's eyes without emotion. Another man sat down on Daske's right and nonchalantly pressed the business end of a dagger against his side under the table. He smiled genially and said in Pavi, “Let's take a little walk.” The man's left hand was under Daske's right armpit and when he stood up he lifted Daske to his feet as well. Daske was surprised at how strong the man was. They made their way across the room, one of them on each side of him. The dagger was still aimed at one of his kidneys. They each had a firm grip on an arm. They obviously knew their business and they were giving Daske no space or time to do anything other than accompany them outside. Once outside they pulled him to the left and around the corner of the Tavern into a dark alley. Daske knew what they were and it was his worst nightmare.

[Alexis Whitewave]

Alexis walked into the tavern with the intention to have a couple mugs of ale and completely forget why she had come to this town and who it was she had come to see. She was angry to the point where anything could make her snap, as was usually the case most days after she had met with her mother. It had probably left bitter memories in the minds of others who lived here and she never left a good impression on those she met in Riverfall. Normally she was friendly and welcoming, always trying to get along with everyone. She was not easily angered and there was no one who angered her quite like here mother did. But whatever the case was in her life no one here knew and they took her as a simply cruel person – which was by no means true.

Alexis plonked herself down at the nearest table she could find unoccupied and her aqua blue eyes searched the place for a barmaid, but found something else instead. She saw a man with dark hair and blue eyes, and one who looked not at all happy with his situation. She sat back in her seat with an inquisitive expression, also taking in the two men who were obviously as joyful as the angry man in the seat between them looked. She narrowed her eyes as they escorted him out and forgetting any notion of drinking she slipped out of her seat and quietly followed the trio out the door and into the alley. She kept herself hidden well; she stood with her back to the wall just around a corner from where the men stood.

She sneaked a glance round the corner but snapped her head back when one of the men turned to look. She was breathing heavily, her heart pounding in her chest and her sandy blonde her flying around her with the cold night’s wind. It was unusually tangled and knotted, falling in messy waves down her back. She reached to her waist where a thin, pointed longsword was tied. She pulling it from her belt and walked round the corner with the silver metal weapon pointed straight ahead of her, glinting softly in the white moonlight. ”It’s much warmer in the tavern, makes me wonder why you’re not in there.” she said with a wry, sarcastic smile. Her tone was almost amused, even taunting.

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

At the sound of the woman's voice, Muscle Man let go of Daske's arm and turned. Dagger Man spun himself and Daske around and backed them up a few steps so that Muscle Man stood between them and the woman. His dagger was was no longer pointed at Daske's kidney. The young woman stood in a relaxed stance. Her long, blond hair was blowing back behind her, creating a kind of halo affect. She seemed too young and too pretty to be waving a sword around, but that is exactly what she was doing. “Best be movin' along Miss,” said Muscle Man in a deep, gravelly voice. “This is none of your concern.” The woman smiled and said, “I kind of had my eye on this one back there in the Kulk, thinking maybe I'd take him upstairs and bang him long and hard. But then you guys dragged him out here and ruined all my fun.” She moved into an offensive stance and painted circles in the air in front of him with the tip of her long sword. This got their attention. Dagger Man let go of Daske and pulled out a second dagger. Muscle Man pushed his cloak back to reveal a long sword of his own. He slowly drew it out of his scabbard and held it low in front of himself. Daske had no doubt that the man knew how to use it. Daske decided that if he was going to do anything other than watch, this was the time to do it. He grasped the hilt of his own long sword and, in one sweeping motion, pulled it out and swung it at Dagger Man. Much to his surprise, he hit the man in the head. True, it was only a glancing blow, because Dagger Man caught the motion out of the corner of his eye and ducked. But Daske had in fact hit the man and had drawn first blood. In fact, he was pretty sure the man was now missing an ear. Dagger Man shrieked in pain and turned to face Daske. Muscle Man turned his head to see what the shriek was about. The woman moved fast with a thrust to his abdomen. He managed to partially block her sword and it struck his leg instead, but she had drawn blood. He roared, stepped to one side and thrust his sword at her. She blocked it but was staggered by the sheer power of the blow. He immediately pressed his attack, forcing her back with a flurry of swings. He had both strength and reach on her, and was obviously the better swordsman. For his part, Daske was trying to staying out of reach of Dagger Man's daggers. But the man was quick. He darted in under Daske's blade and sliced open a gash on his right leg. He immediately followed up with a quick thrust of the other dagger, which pierced Daske's left hand. “Ow!” cried Daske, swinging with his sword and not connecting with anything. Daske and the woman were now standing side-by-side with their backs to a wall. Daske was facing off against Dagger Man to the right and she was facing off against Muscle Man to the left. “Hi. I'm Daske.” He said as he executed what he thought was a pretty decent parry and thrust combo. “You come here often?”

[Jargon Windcaller]

Jargon was in Riverfall picking up fresh veggies and filling his tank with life sustaining fresh water. He was slightly irritated on this particular day because of a few things. Firstly the merchant he had purchased his fresh supplies from had royally screwed him over, charging twice what the merchant right around the corner had. Jargon had bought his supplies and then less than twenty minutes later to his dismay saw that he could have bought the supplies for half what he paid. After a short argument with the merchant he realized that he was not going to get any money back and he let the matter drop.

The trip to Riverfall was boring; being the adrenaline seeker that Jargon was that had frustrated him to no end. He was only looking for something adventuress to do besides sailing. Jargon loved sailing but sometimes needed something more than that to satisfy his appetite for thrill situations. All this cumulated in Jargon deciding that he would find something fun to do in this city. So, after checking to make sure the supplies were loaded on his boat correctly he left the docks and started to walk.

Although Riverfall was an interesting city in and of itself Jargon needed more than mere scenery to keep him interested for any length of time. As he walked he passed by many citizens of the city, sadly none of them seemed to be in the least bit looking for something exciting to do. His boredom was starting to get to him and he hated boredom. To add to his woes he forgot to bring any money away from his boat so he couldn’t even pay for some entertainment. So jargon continued to walk through the city, taking random turns until before he even realized it he was lost. Being lost was new feeling to Jargon, on the sea all you have to do is sail in one direction till you see something you recognize and go from there. All these buildings and street ways confused him to no end, walking aimlessly he turned left and then right, making no conscious decision about which direction he was taking.

To his surprise he turned into an ally to find 4 people in a furious sword fight, blades waving back and forth while the light flashed off of their finely polished blades and into his eyes. “Now this is more like it!” he said out loud as he pulled his own scimitar out from its scabbard and ran towards the melee starting to form in the back alley. Taking long loping strides towards the fight Jargon took time to dissect what was actually happening. he quickly saw two people pinned against a wall next to each other fighting off what seemed to be two large brutes. And like that Jargon had picked his side of the fight, for better or worse.

Running up to the first brute on the same side as what looked to be a young girl trapped against the wall he swung his scimitar low, looking to hamstring the brute before he had a chance to do anything else.

[Alexis Whitewave]

As soon as the stranger’s blade hit flesh Alexis took her chance to get away from the wall, not at all enjoying being cornered. She darted to the side, dodging the large man’s arm and spun round. She was now behind the man and her swords pointed tip was lingering just above the small of the man’s back. She was about to drive the sword into the man’s spine, which would paralyse him fro the waist down, when something caught her – a flicker of her normal self. She kept her sword where it was, frozen in the air. Her breath was heavy and her eyes wild. ”I’m Alexis.” she said with a nod towards the one who called himself Daske. ”And I try my best not to come here too often, to be honest. Long story.” she said briskly with a small grimace.

She kept her sword to the man’s back, unable to even try and reach his neck which would look a little more convincing, and looked towards the man in front of Daske. Her features were cold, not at all reflecting her true emotions. She would not let it slip that she could never actually carry out the threat she was making. ”I’m sure your friend agrees that you should leave.” she said, poking the large man in front of her with her sword.

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

Dagger Man took a moment to weigh his options and then said quietly in Pavi, “Graz, put the sword away.” Then he pulled out a rag and carefully wiped the blood from his daggers, which he then sheathed. He tossed the bloody rag to the ground at Daske's feet. Graz slowly raised his sword and pointed it at the man with the cutlass. His voice was deathly calm as he said in Common. “You hurt me. You and me, we're gonna meet again. And I'm gonna kill you.” He returned his sword to its scabbard and walked over to where Dagger Man was standing. He had a slight limp and blood was running down his leg and on to the ground. He seemed not to notice. Dagger Man looked Daske in the eye and said in Common, “There's a price on your head. Seems you murdered a man. And they want you back alive, which means they're really ticked off. I aim to collect that bounty. So you and me, we'll meet again.” He turned and walked down the alley and disappeared into the shadows, followed by Graz. Daske took this opportunity to pass out. His injuries were not especially serious, but he had lost a lot of blood. OOC : I suggest a scene cut to a room in the Inn where you two can do something about Daske's injuries, although I see that neither of you has any medicine skill. Oh ... and might as well pick Gert up in the Tavern and bring her along too. An alternative would be to take Daske to one of your boats. Or, anything else that strikes your fancy . In any case, I'd like to move this story out on to the sea, which probably means closing the thread and opening another one on the Suvan Sea forum.

[Jargon Windcaller]

“Well that’s disappointing” Jargon muttered as he sheathed his scimitar, keeping a weather eye on the men walking away. “I was really hoping for a good fight, that ended too quickly, ahh whatever.” Jargon said as took a second since the beginning of the fight to examine on whose side he was fighting. He quickly realized that he had come to the rescue of two other Svefra, or at least he thought that he rescued them. The girl was indeed pretty, with blond hair and the deep blue eyes that his race was known for.

After what seemed like a awkward amount of time Jargon finally regained his senses and stuck out his hand “The name is Jargon Windcaller and it seems to me that you got yourselves into quite the mess.” Only after this did he notice that the man was passed out on the ground. Moving over to him to check him he found that the man’s wounds were not too serious, although he had some deep cuts here and there.

Looking up from the man to the still unknown girl Jargon stated the obvious “Well we can’t just let this guy die here, I don’t know anything about medicine but I’m sure we could do something to help him.” As he said this Jargon cut strips on the man’s shirt to bandage his cuts, he didn’t know how much it would help but it had to be better than nothing.

“It seems to me like those guys were bounty hunters, I don’t know how safe it would be for us…or him to be seen inside the city. My boat is on the docks if you can just help me get him there then I will take him out to sea until he feels better. Your welcome to come if you want but I’m sure you have something better to do.” Said Jargon as he flashed the girl a slight smile, his friendliness towards his kin already kicking in.