Seaman (Completed)

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

Timestamp: 45-92 Winter 511 Location: A Sloop Somewhere On the Suvan Sea Day 5 Forty foot waves surrounded the sloop as she started to ride up the backside of the next one. From the bottom of the trough, it looked as though the mountainous waves were going to come crashing down on the struggling vessel. Now she was rising fast, climbing the mountain until she crested the top only to start down the other side in a mad rush for the bottom of the next trough. Daske had lashed himself to the helm with Grady, the second mate. It took all their combined strength to keep the ship under control so they could rise and descend at an angle rather than head on. Cresting one of these giants head on could easily lead to pitch-poling, in which the ship dashes straight down the other side, buries its bow in the back of the next wave, and flips end over end. Daske had never experienced such a thing, but he was pretty sure it would not turn out well. So they struggled with each trip up and each trip down to keep the ship running at an angle to the great waves. Daske had given up being frightened. His whole world had reduced itself to the next wave. And then the next one. And then the one after that. They had been doing this for six bells. Night was falling. “Mister Grady!” yelled a voice from behind them. They recognized Captain Menzeltoff's voice but neither of them turned to look. Grady yelled back, “Sir!” “How's it lookin' to you now?” “I seen worse, sir.” Daske was incredulous. “No. I mean is the storm abating?” “I believe it is, sir.” “I'll send Bronson and Freelander up to spell you.” “No need sir. We're doin' fine here. Ain't we, Daske?” He gave Daske a quick, mostly toothless grin. Daske said nothing as he and Grady threw their weight into keeping the ship from straightening out and running directly down the side of the next wave. He took a quick look up at the sails. They were carrying only two small storm sails, one on each mast. Anything more and the powerful forces thrusting them forward would rip away sails and masts alike. But they needed some sail or the ship would try to turn up into the wind, which would mean certain death for all of them. “Fine, fine,” said the captain. “Carry on.” “Mr. Grady, have you really been in worse than this?” Daske asked. “Hell no,” said Grady.

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

Day 6 The storm had abated. Swells were down to about ten feet, which still made for a rough ride but was much better than the previous night had been. Daske had eventually gotten some sleep and was now back on deck. The storm sails had been taken down and the course sails were up. He was immediately put to work helping raise the tops'ls. “Daske!” “Yes, sir!” Daske turned to face Captain Menzeltoff. “You did good last night.” “Thank you, sir.” “The main storm sail has a tear in it. I'd like you to assist Montgomery in fixin' it.” Daske located the midshipman on the fore deck where he had laid out the damaged sail. It did indeed have a long tear up the middle. Montgomery had a heavy sewing needle out and some heavy thread. “Hold it taunt for me,” he said. Daske watched with fascination while the seaman carefully stitched his way along the tear. About half way done, he said, “Why don't ya give it a try.” Daske took the needle and thread and continued the stitches where Montgomery had left off. “Don't make yer hole too close to the edge or it'll just rip out again.” Daske made the appropriate adjustment to the placement of the stitches. Soon he was done and Montgomery showed him how to tie it off. He was surprised how much it was like stitching a wound on his own body. Same basic principle, just a different application.

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

Day 10 They had docked in Syliras with the morning tide and were unloading cargo. This particular dock didn't have a block and tackle system, so four men used a rope-and-net arrangement to bring the sacks, boxes and crates up from the hold. From there they had to be carried down the gang plank and put on one of several waiting wagons. Daske was assigned to help carry sacks, boxes and crates off the ship. The second mate was directing traffic. “Rogers, you and Daske unload the sacks.” It was a straightforward task. He hefted a heavy sack on to his shoulder and walked it down the gang plank and dropped it on the end of a wagon. A man standing in the wagon repositioned the bag to make the most efficient use of the space. Then Daske went back up the gang plank and repeated the operation. He and Rogers did this for two or three bells. It was hard and heavy work but he didn't mind. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it. Boxes proved to be a bit more challenging than sacks. They weighed between fifty and a hundred pounds and he couldn't just toss them on to his shoulder. Another sailor showed him how to do it. “Ya take this piece of rope, an' tie it around the box. Then ya put the ends under yer armpits and tie 'em together across yer chest.” He walked Daske through it as he described the process. Daske found that he could now get under the box and carry it on his back. It was harder and heavier work than the sacks, but he quickly got the hang of it and the next few bells went by fast. In the afternoon he helped with crates. These were considerably bigger than the boxes and usually heavier. It took two men to carry them down the gang plank, and usually a third man to get them on to the back of a wagon. There was no secret to getting it done. It was just hard, heavy work. By the time they were done unloading, it was late afternoon. Daske was tired, hot and sweaty. And hungry. Daske joined three others for a night on the town.

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

Day 10, evening Midshipman Jackson took the lead as the four sailors left the dock and headed into the city. “I know this pub where ya can get a bath, a shave and a massage for a very reasonable price.” He gave them a knowing look. “An' when I say 'massage', I'm talkin' about a massage fer a very particular part of yer anatomy.” When they got to the pub, Jackson spoke briefly with the proprietor and then waved for them to follow him. A few minutes later Daske found himself in a small room taken up entirely by a wooden tub that was built into the floor, a rough-woven mat and a barefoot girl dressed in a plain dress that went down to her knees and which Daske suspected was all she was wearing. “You stink. We get you clean first thing, okay?” Her Common was heavily accented, but neither her accent nor her appearance told him where she was from. “A bath would be good. Thank you,” he said. She wasted no time getting his clothes off him and getting him into the tub. Daske was surprised to discover that the water was warm. She showed no signs of shyness as she soaped him up and scrubbed him thoroughly from head to foot. She pretended not to notice the obvious interest she had aroused from a certain part of his anatomy. She sang a quiet, almost mournful song as she worked. It was in a language Daske did not recognize. With him still in the tub, she lathered up his face and shaved him. He was impressed with her skill. She had obviously had a lot of practice. Then he thought, Duh. This is, after all, what she does for a living. “Where are you from?” he asked. “Karjin,” she said simply. Daske recognized this as a coastal town in southern Taldera, although he had never been there himself. “And how ...” He was about to ask how she came to be here doing this kind of work. But it suddenly seemed like the wrong question to ask. She stopped and looked into his eyes. It seemed to Daske that there was a deep sadness there. She said, “Life does not always turn out the way one hopes, does it?” She abruptly stood up, swept off her dress and stepped into the tub with Daske, where she proceeded to give him a truly wonderful massage. Loading cargo on to the ship took most of the following day, due to the fact that at least half the crew was suffering the effects of the previous night's entertainment. Late in the afternoon they caught the out-going tide and departed from Syliras. OOC : If you are interested, PM me for the adult-only version of this scene.

[Daske Baggywrinkle]

Day 47 The Prion's Dream docked at Patchwork Port on 92 Winter 511, the last day of the year. Daske had learned a lot over the last half season aboard the sloop, had made some friends, had had some interesting experiences, and had made some money. But he was glad to be off the merchant ship. He found the Black Lady exactly where he had left her and paid Max Brindle for taking care of her. Then he cast off and headed out to see, a free man once more. He said out loud to no one in particular, “Spring is in the air. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?”

[Trident]

Daske Skills: Sailing +3 Body Building +1 Lores: Location: Prion's Dream Sailing in a Storm [incomplete] Getting a "Massage" Comments: Another very intriguing training thread. I gave you Body Building for unloading the sacks and the boxes, in case you were wondering. I also assumed the Prion's Dream and the sloop mentioned at the beginning were one and the same. If not, PM me and I'll correct the lores. EDIT: Nevermind, my reasoning is skewed. Please forget I changed anything. If you have any questions about my ruling, feel free to PM me!