15th of Summer, 515AV
A sudden gust of wind nearly toppled Orin. The sea, which had been so calm so far during the journey, had unleashed its wrath. The Phaeaco tilted dangerously in the waves that were whipped into a frenzy by the sky’s efforts. The crystalline calm and peace of the usually still surface and blue skies had been shattered beyond all recognition. The captain had spotted the gray clouds on the horizon and leapt into action. Orin still didn’t really know his way around a ship or how it was supposed to be sailed, so the precautions taken had been totally lost on him. He’d watched helpless as the ominous smudge grew closer and closer until it seemed to fill the entire horizon. The Phaeco had been clipping along at a decent pace but now the seamen swarmed the masts desperately trying to do arcane things to the sail. Others scurried about the deck with enormous lengths of rope. Orin had felt completely in the way, so he’d retreated to any area which seemed to have much lower activity. Scanning the deck, Orin desperately tried to spot someone in need of aid. However with his limited knowledge he was afraid that he'd be more of a hindrance than a help.
He'd just about been ready to turn around and make his way back to his quarters when the torrent began. It was almost violent how fast the world changed. Orin had been half-blinded by the rain and when his feet started sliding on the slick and suddenly no longer level deck he'd grabbed at the first solid object he could. It had turned out to be the end of a rope, which didn't arrest his movement until it had suddenly snapped taut. Clinging to it with a strength born of terror, Orin glanced wildly around for some way out of his predicament.
Time solved his problem for him, as the ship came back into a neutral position after plowing through a wave. Orin got to his feet thoroughly shaken. He was afraid to let go of his lifeline lest the ship shift again. However, he ended up not having a choice as one of the crew spotted him and started shouting. "Oy, Cookie! Get your sorry arse over here with that rope." Orin shook his head. He knew objectively he should make follow directions but fear locked his leg. The man's yells got more insistent. "Look you bloody landlubber we ain't got all day here. Move! The last word was nearly roared and it was enough to jerk Orin out of his paralysis. He took faltering steps, making sure of his footing and balance as he went.
The sailor beckoned him on impatiently. The crew had given him the moniker of Cook or Cookie, apparently not even bothering to learn his real name. Orin didn't mind, especially because he was having trouble memorizing their names as well. Finally, he got close enough for the other man to grab Orin's wrist and pull him forward with a few stumbling steps. "I need you to take that and anchor the other end of this crate. We gotta lash everything down else we gonna lose half our cargo." Firm hands propelled Orin forward to the other side of the crate. Orin steadied himself on a nearby railing. The sailor made a grabbing motion and Orin finally got that he was supposed to pass the end of the rope back. The rope itslf wrapped around the front of the crate, so Orin passed it around the other side. The man snatched it out of his hands and tied a knot swiftly and efficiently. It might have been magic for all Orin could follow it.
Orin sagged against the railing, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. The sailor leaned over and started barking orders to some vague shape in the darkness. With the patter of the rain and the roaring of the waves Orin couldn't make out who it was, or what the crewmate was saying. Not that it mattered all that much. Orin was content to simply await further instructions. He could only do the most basic tasks, but another pair of hands probably wouldn't be rejected. As long as Orin kept responding quickly he hoped the time this man spent teaching him was outweighed by having another body working on deck.
