We Sing What Was Lost

[Sliver]

Everyone seemed to be going their separate ways in the ship, leaving Sliver alone with her new spectral companion. She looked a bit longingly at the female knight...almost knight, whatever. Even the hawk-nosed man with the botanist seemed to be better company than her stick of a man who had somehow gotten hold of a....ghostly cigarette? Whatever it was it produced smoke well enough, even if it wasn't in this plane, and he leaned against the rail as if taking a break from his duties. So Sliver stood, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. 'Tcha aint wun fer much tawk, are ya gur'll? He turned from gazing out on the water, smiling knowingly at her. Quite infuriating really. Sliver's brow furrowed as she tried to plow through his accent. 'Spose its no' a problehm, Ah perfer meh womehn quite. To this Sliver just growled, a low rumbling sound like a dog right before it was going to snap at you. He laughed, flicking his cigarette into the water. Ach, buht ya gut spunk, an' I loike that. Cum on thehn, lehts taike a trip to mah dahmain. He sauntered to the door that led below decks and Sliver snorted, but followed him. What choice did she have? It was interesting, he was obviously familiar with this ship in particular, he ducked at just the right spots where his height would have caused him to bump his head or arms if he was living, even though the Kelvic was sure it was no longer a problem in his current form. He took her through the bowels of the ship to the galley, opening his arms proudly at the grubby area. Idn't it gawgeous?! He spoke as if he had just taken Sliver to some grand palace. She gave the most apathetic look she could manage, despite herself she wanted to smirk. ugh. He winked at her, flipping one of his knives up in the air and catching it between the tips of his fingers absentmindedly. I kin see yer not implessed, but ah'll tell ya now, when oi was the cuk ah dis galley, nawt wun clew member evah whent to sleep wit'out ah full stumak an a smoile onder faice. He pointed at her. An' yur gun be doin' deh saime while da capn' has ya wit me...Besoides, its da best plaice for a woman on a ship loike dis, duntcha think? Sliver had found a rack of unpolished cutlery, and hurled one at his general direction, it sticking into the wooden pillar and passing harmlessly through his left arm. He smirked. We kin wurk un yur throwin' skills affer ehryone's fed, kay lass?

[Balthazaar Kraigen]

“So…we never got a chance to introduce ourselves up there” Balthazaar said through short breaths as he followed behind his companion, trying his best to keep up with his long ghostly strides.

“My name’s Balthazaar…it’s a pleasure to meet you…ummm…” He paused mid-sentence, hoping for a reply from the dark haired apparition. The man stopped short at these words and slowly turned to look at his fleshy student, aligning his gaze with the young man’s.

“I suppose…” The man began, an expression of disdain starting to creep unto his face.

“I suppose you’re right…since we are bond to each other for the time being, we should at least know what to address each other. My name is Bartholomew Ophidian. More precisely, Dr. Ophidian…” The man said, once again going through the hassle of annunciating every word as he spoke.

“However, you will refer to me simply as Doctor…nothing more and nothing less. Do I make myself clear?” A hint of anger seemed to drip from the man’s words as he spoke. It was clear that he wasn’t happy about having to oversee Balthazaar on this ship, but wasn’t about to disobey the orders of his captain. This didn’t seem to bother the young man though. The title “doctor” was the only thing that was currently occupying the young man’s mind at the moment. Regardless of how the man treated him, he had a feeling that he was about to learn even more about medicine and possibly even botany while under the tutelage of this individual.

Pivoting back to the other direction, the doctor continued on his path deeper and deeper into the innards of the ship. It wasn’t much longer before he finally stopped in front of a small wooden door that seemed to be much farther away from the other rooms located in this area of the ship. Opening the door, the doctor quickly led the young man inside and closed the door behind him. Balthazaar quickly discovered that the room was much larger than it seemed from the size of the door. Lighting a lantern on the opposite side of the room, Balthazaar was able to get a better look at what exactly was inside the room.

It was a large white room or had originally been white, but as the years passed by had become more of a shade of green than anything else. On the right side of the room there were three cabinets holding a wide variety of different things that were hard to make out since they were greatly obscured by cobwebs and dust. In the back of the room was a very dusty desk that held many different instruments on it, some medical, some used for other purposes. On the left side of the room were two beds, both very uncomfortable from the look of them and a cot that Balthazaar could only assume was for the doctor himself.

“As you may have already figured, this used to be the infirmary of the ship when I was still…well…part of the living. It would seem that the captain hasn’t found anyone to replace me though…” Dr. Ophidian said while running a finger through the dust on his desk, before taking a seat behind it.

“Since you will be expected to pull your weight while on this ship, you will be helping me get this place up and running again. I…” The doctor was cut short as the young man quickly spoke, hoping to finish his sentence for him.

“You will be teaching me about medicine though, I’m sure you have a lot to teach me. I’m very excited to begin” A large grin crossing the young man’s face as he rushed towards the cabinets eager to begin his training.

“I wouldn’t get too excited yet…” Dr. Ophidian said to himself, a devious smirk crossing his face. In a flurry of movement, the doctor got up from his desk and rushed to a small closet at the back of the room and grabbed two pieces of equipment. He then rushed out the room quickly, uttering a simple“I’ll be back momentarily” as he flew through the door. When he finally made his way back, he dropped the two pieces of equipment at Balthazaar’s feet and said:

“Ah yes…the first thing I will be teaching you is…” Before the doctor could finish his statement, Balthazaar looked down at the two items he had dropped at his feet. It was a hand brush and a bucket of what he hoped was freshly made soapy water.

“…the value of hard work” The doctor said, another devious grin crossing his face.

“I want this place cleaned from top to bottom. Nothing less than perfection, do I make myself clear?” Dr. Ophidian didn’t wait for a response from his pupil. Instead, he made his way towards the back of the room and took a seat at his desk. The young man thought about arguing about it, but quickly disregarded the notion as he realized how futile it would be. Taking the hand brush in his right hand he got down to his knees, dipped the brush in the water and started scrubbing the dirty floor, a look of disappointment and frustration crossing his face as he did so.

[Sliver]

So the Kelvic set to work. The specter would have had her begin immediately with cooking, but the place was a mess: A white film of grease covered almost every surface in the galley, and moldy bits of food and Gods know what else were under, over, and in every place she looked. So even with the ghost muttering things like: Et was juhst foine befur, or Oi wus saivin' thut fur a spehcial 'casion, and Whut in the blaizes ya think yur doin' to mah kitchen wuman?! The Kelvic forged onwards. It took her several hours before the place was at least what Sliver deemed passable for cooking, her nose no longer reeked with some foodstuff long gone, and she could always do more later. Just then the ghost snorted his upper curling in disgust. Hur cums the cahlvaree. In the door bustled three individuals who were obviously in charge of cooking the meals. They all shared many qualities with the previously filthy galley in that they were unkempt, covered with grime, and smelled somehow....wrong. They will from here on in be referred to as 'the short one,' 'the fat one,' and 'the whiny one,' because even though Sliver is positive that they all gave her their names more than once, she can only identify them by these titles. They all stopped short in the door frame, sizing the Kelvic up with beady eyes. The whiny one gestured to her as if she was some sack of flour placed inconveniently in the way, while the fat one's eyes widened at the sight of the clean galley. They chirped among themselves for several moments like starving birds before her spectral companion strode through the wooden pillar hiding him from view and they all jumped backwards as one. The short one was the first to recover. R-r-rusty, g-good to see you ag--Oh shuv et whur tha suhn dunt shoine. Rusty floated up to sit cross legged on the main table, facing them with narrowed eyes. Lessin up ya rowdy loht a uselehss shites: Tha Capn's braht ya a muracle, an yur guin' ta lissen ta ehvry wurd dat cums atta are lihps wit na' a wurd of bahcktalk, ya gut me? There was a short pause-Ya GUT MAH?! Everyone in the galley, Sliver included, nodded furiously. Then Rusty smiled like a devious cat. Gud, vury gud, Naw, Yuh! Geht in dah gahlley, brung out the taters n' meat, yuh over der, sturt tha ohvens.... And so things continued thusly, and that was Rusty barking orders, and the three imbeciles following them out like worker ants. The great oven was powered by Reimancy, and heat was transferred through D-wire coils. The fat one and the whiny one had basic knowledge of Reimancy, which was just enough to heat the giant metal box without making it explode, or even worse, burn the food that was put into it. A similar system also heated a slab of slate. Sliver knew the basics of cooking, boiling water, cutting, dicing, adding a pinch of this herb and that for flavor, and that was virtually what she did as they worked away in the kitchen. The three aids got the food, washed the vegetables, heated the devices, while she monitored the actual cooking development with Rusty giving her advice as she went along. Whut are ya doin' der? Mah bloind Grandmuthar had a studier hund than yuh fur shur. Cut those cahrats loike ya mean it, gurl. Tch, get tha' rubbit et a' tha ohven befur she burns, will yah? I dun moind startin' ageen, but I daht these tree kin taike et. The room got to be a stifling level of hot, and Sliver had to continuously wipe the sweat off of her brow to keep it from falling into the food, though Rusty assured her that was "jus' mur flahverins." It was strange, exerting herself this much for something so commonplace as food, but the wolverine had to admit she liked it, there was something enjoyable that came from this, a more intricate process than she would have ever fully realized being just an animal, and a satisfaction sunk into her as she worked.

[Balthazaar Kraigen]

Balthazaar dropped the hand brush in the bucket of dirty water and took a seat on the floor next to it, taking a moment to examine his hands. They were red and raw from the endless scrubbing that he performed in order to get the small infirmary in tip top shape. He was sore in so many places he couldn’t even begin to name them all and to top it off there was a kink in his neck that he knew would take more than a couple days rest to work out. This being said, the place was as the doctor had requested: Perfect. Balthazaar was even willing to bet money that someone could come in there with a magnifying glass and not find a single speck of dirt. That’s how confident Balthazaar was in his work. His mentor, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share the same opinion. As Dr. Ophidian made his way across room to evaluate Bathazaar’s performance, he would stop every few moments to examine the smallest nook and cranny. Each time he did this, a minor look of disgust would appear on his face followed by an audible grunt in order apprise the young man of his dissatisfaction. After several minutes of this charade, the doctor finally turned towards the young man and grimaced before saying:

“Although I would have preferred it cleaner…it will have to do for now”

Balthazaar’s head dropped a little at this comment, all the pride he had in his work dissipated and he was left with bitter thoughts running around his head. However, he didn’t dwell on it long, he knew that any sort of weakness in the face of this man would only lead to harsher treatment. So picking himself off the floor, he put the hand brush and the bucket back in the closet and went over to take a seat at the doctor’s desk, waiting for his next assignment. Dr. Ophidian took a moment to stare at the young man, seemingly trying to figure out what he should have him do next.

“How much experience do you have with herbs?” The doctor asked, breaking the silence that had formed between the two of them. Balthazaar’s face began to light up at the mention of herbs, he quickly sorted through the knowledge inside his head and prepared a quick summary of his experience that he hoped would impress and possibly soften the cantankerous apparition. Unfortunately, before the young man could speak a word of it the doctor cut him off and began speaking again.

“Actually, it won't matter how much experience you have for what I’m about to teach you...that is, unless you are a highly skilled medical professional...which you aren't" The doctor said, a snide tone in his voice.

"You see Balthazaar, most medical professionals prefer to use other concoctions in order to sedate their patients. I, however, tend to use something a little more…radical”

A look of excitement and a devious grin appeared on his face as he mentioned this. He quickly got up from his desk and rushed over to the third cabinet on the left and produced two bottles and a large brown book. In the smaller of the two bottles there was a small greenish liquid with small swirls of pink in the mix, the other bottle was much larger and held several large leaves that were instantly recognizable by the young botanist.

“Those are the leaves of the Lorkh’Grapha! Located in the Spires, they are known for their highly potent sleep inducing properties. As such they are used by both doctors and assassins alike as they have the potential of putting their victim into a comma if too much of the extract is used in the concoction.” Balthazaar said with a smile, the implication of his words lost as a result of his excitement.

The doctor was taken aback by the outburst of the young man and for a brief second he looked almost impressed with his knowledge. However, he quickly composed himself and exchanged his expression with one that held more disdain for the individual.

“Precisely”

Placing the two bottles and the book on his desk, he took a seat and began flipping through the pages of the book with gusto. He finally stopped when he found a page that held sketched picture of the plant and a set of instructions for how to prepare the sleeping draught.

“Many injuries that you’ll see on this ship will be severe and will require extensive time and effort on our part to heal. As a result it will be necessary to sedate the individual with something strong in order to ease their suffering. Also it is generally is easier to work and is less stressful when there isn’t someone screaming in pain next to you. The potency of these leaves can create a liquid that will put someone to sleep for days, allowing the medical professional to operate on them without causing them pain. However, if precise measurements aren't used, it can also create a draught that will put the patient into a comma indefinitely leading to starvation, dehydration and eventually death. This is why most doctors tend to use other less potent sedatives in place of this one. This being said, most doctors are also cowards” Dr. Ophidian said, a hint of bitterness dripping from his words.

“For the rest of the day, you will be studying the method for creating this draught and trying to recreate it yourself. However, before you do so, make sure to grab a pair of gloves and a mask from the cabinets. A simple touch on your bare skin or the aroma of the plant is enough to put you into a deep sleep for several hours.”

Balthazaar did as he was instructed and quickly procured the necessary items for his assignment. As he did so, a thought began to linger in his mind that was making him uneasy. Putting the equipment on the table, he took a few brief moments to look at the notes in the book before looking up at Dr. Ophidian and saying:

“Even if I create this liquid, how will we know if it works? How will we be sure that it won’t put a patient in a comma?”

The doctor looked at the young man and gave him another of his infamous devious grins before quietly saying:

“Live test subjects”

[Belgar]

Amily waited for the others to drop below deck before she did, leaving Belgar to suffer the same patience. In the short meantime, uncertainty furrowed his brow. The feeling of uselessness was creeping out of the back of his mind, without a rope to pull or a solid person to obey. The girl seemed capable enough, with her heavy armor and presumed experience, but her words bubbled on the wrong sort of levity. She gave a frivolous grunt of approval as she finally climbed down. Belgar followed quickly after, but not before reminding himself to hold his judgments for a time when he knew her better. He found himself in a storage room that seemed to primarily contain the ship’s weapons. As Amily browsed the long swords, he lingered in the threshold and looked on from a distance. She bent to take one and brandished it before her, the solid metal in an intangible hand. Belgar stared in awe. With some difficulty, the concentrating almost-knight asked, “Do you know how to swordfight?” He watched her swing it once or twice, soulmist flailing around the room. “No.” “Would you like to learn?” “No.” She looked at him in surprise, and the sword dropped through her fingers. “Why not?” “I... I am a bear.” “So?” “I do not need a sword.” She frowned. “Suit yourself.” The metal clattered loudly on the ground where Amily dropped it through her fist, and Belgar’s jaw stiffened like a wince. With a shrug, she exited the room through him, leaving him to shiver and pause and scramble after her when he realized that she was not waiting for him. “What about interior design?” She suggested as she strolled down the hall, turning back often to make sure he followed. “What?” “The boat is beautiful, the way they set it up. Doesn’t it look like a master artist just passed through?” The subject of art was a sensitive one to this kelvic, who had always wanted to understand it and never could. He looked around carefully, unsure what to look for. He decided that it was better to be honest, if it meant he could learn something. “No.” “Stop saying no,” she replied immediately, then stretched her arms out to help them both visualize the place. “Don’t you love the way the wood fades toward the bottom into Mysterious Slime Black? The lighting is atrocious, I know, but overall they’ve achieved a very cozy atmosphere. Don’t you think?” Her voice edged on sarcasm, but it was not clear enough for Belgar to see. “Um. Yes?” He finally answered. She laughed. “You’re no use.” “I’m sorry.” She laughed again. “Don’t be. Here. I know the perfect thing for you. A song. Every sailor needs to know songs.” She did not let him argue. “This is one I learned while I was staying in Denval.” “And oh, a maiden can be sweet; she may be pretty, graceful, neat, clever, and quick on her feet, but none like girls in Denval, for Denval is my home! “And oh, the sea is far and blue; it takes our ships and holds ‘em true; it brings us goods and faces new, but none like those of Denval, for Denval is my home! “And oh, the moon is fair and bright, the stars are jewels upon the night, the sun’s a beauty at first light, but none’s a sight like Denval, for Denval is my home!” She had adopted a strange way of pronouncing the words, one that made half of them unintelligible to the Avanthalan. After she had finished the third stanza (and explained that it was hardly the last), she gladly spoke in her natural, slightly more comprehensible accent. She repeated the words, urging him to memorize at least those verses and the simple tune that accompanied them. He obliged because he could not find a reason not to, because he felt bad for refusing her before, and because she had convinced him the song was useful. “Good,” she said finally. She had managed to get him smiling by the time she demanded, “Now, louder!” Belgar had forgotten his shame. He bellowed octaves lower than she did and his rumbling voice moved more like yelling than singing, but he held the tune as well as any Denvali drunkard who had swung a glass of degtine to it. It mattered less that he sang well and more that he had summoned up the confidence to sing at all. As he finished, she was clapping, flinging her cool mist around him like a northern breeze. “Excellent! Beautiful! I knew you were good at something!” Belgar thought to thank her, but he was not given the chance. “We should go to the mess hall and show them what you’ve got!” His smile dropped; he did not hesitate. “No.”

[Massacre]

Massacre watched as the others left, not really wanting to be left alone with his ghost, but not having a choice either. The man obviously held no love for the Zith, and after shooting him a disdainful look, the ghost motioned for Massacre to follow him. They navigated back the way Massacre had come until they came out on the main deck. Massacre blinked at the sun, hating the fact that humans insisted on doing everything in the day time. Once they were out on deck the ghost turned to him and spoke again. "Alright, so you'll be helping the crew on deck. Before we get started, I guess I better teach you some stuff otherwise you won’t know what's what." The ghost pointed to his left, "Left is port, right is starboard. Got it?" Massacre did not get it, but nodded anyway. "Over there is the aft, an that's the bow." The Zith nodded again, having no idea what the spirit was talking about. "This is a mast, and those things up there are sails. They're what make the ship go. What we're standing on is the deck. That guy over there is a deckhand. That's what you'll be called when your workin." The ghost pointed up at the top of the main sail, "That's the crow’s nest. You'll be up there a lot, since you got them wings and won’t worry 'bout fallin. Now, follow me on up." The ghost blinked, and Massacre started in surprise. One moment the spirit had been right there, standing in front of him, and the next he was gone. Well, not gone, he was up in the crow’s nest shouting down at Massacre to hurry up. After he recovered from his shock, Massacre walked over to the edge of the boat and spread his wings, flying up into the sky and to the crow’s nest. When he landed the ghost started talking again. "Now up here's an important job. When you're up here, you're our eyes and ears. You let us know what you see, and if there's anything dangerous, you let us know loudly. Got it?" Massacre nodded. "Good. Now, let's say you saw a ship over yonder and it was coming this way. What would you say." "Uh... I would say there is a ship coming." "Yeah, but from where?" "Over there," Massacre said as he pointed. "They ain't gonna see you pointing from all the way up here, ye damned bat with legs! What direction?" "There is a ship coming from the left." The ghost let out an exasperated sigh, palming his face, before shaking his head. "No, no, no... you shout as loud as you can, SHIP INCOMING ON THE PORT SIDE! That was is port, remember?" "Why can't I just say left?" "Don't question the language, boy! Just say port for left, starboard for right, and you'll be fine, okay. So, what would you say?" "I would say.. Incoming ship on the port side?" "Yes! By golly we'll make a sailor out of you yet!"

[Sliver]

There was some point, and if you asked Sliver wouldn't have been able to recall when, that Rusty left the room and she was left to lord over the idiots. She realized it all of a sudden when her nose picked up the meat about to burn and she turned around and snarled, pointing to the oven. The whiny one could tell what she meant and practically threw open the door to remove the meat. It was then that the Kelvic glanced around the room. Where had he gone to? Unfortunately there was no time to worry about this, for she had potatoes simmering, vegetables steaming, and a hungry crew to feed. She ordered them around in grunts and growls, the severity of which generally illustrating how they were doing. Chopping, slicing, stirring, and sipping, by the time Rusty returned the Kelvic was thoroughly exhausted and for the first time that afternoon...wait no it was evening, she sat down on one of the stools in the kitchen. The specter held his arms behind his back and paced back and forth a couple of times, expression unreadable. Sliver was beginning to think that she had made some grievous error in her cooking, perhaps because she had such an unrefined palette, when Rusty broke into a wide grin. Ah new ya culd do et. Thas es ah faest fet fur kings. He paused a moment, finger on his chin Ur aht laest wun fet fur na guld rutten clew membahrs loike ares. He laughed a little at his own joke then turned to the three nincompoops. An whut are yew laht stannin' arun fer? Thank ya deserve sum kine'a rest? Git aht there and surf tha food ya idjits. The kitchen was directly adjoining the mess hall, and the three hurried out with the food. It wasn't fancy, nor was it a plain fare that the crew and the adventurer's would find when they happened across the dining area. The spread's main dish was varying meats (couldn't be picky when you had Jamoura to feed after all) from turkey to rabbit, roasted in a buttery garlic sauce and surrounded by sauteed vegetables and potatoes rolled in herbs. There were tureens of a thin and almost sweet tasting gravy for the meat, and several baskets of steaming rolls with varying oils, jams, and sauces for dipping. Desert was fresh fruit (utilized first since it would go bad the fastest) served in bowls with a chocolate mint sauce dribbled liberally on top. Rusty wandered around from crewman to crewman, soaking in their reactions to the food he could no longer fathom, drawing out their praises Idn't et jus' gawgeous? ulmoss too gud ta ate raelly. Ach, but ah hare yur stumak rumblin' sa ah spose nat. Cum'on den, jus wun mer rull, ah bet tha' black rassperree soss is jus' dehlightfill. Ya full alrety? Will a chap mite thunk yur a bit rude naht wannin' tah ate 'is fud. Thas bettur. After a while of this he began to suspect something was amiss, and once he had completed a head count, realized that the wolverine wasn't even in the dining area. He swept back through the wall into the galley and found the Kelvic sitting perched up on a counter, nibbling at a bit of cheese, a plate of dried meat and a single roll from the dinner on the cutting board she was using as a plate. The ghost sighed. Whut in dah hellz is wrung which ya gurl? Din anyone evar tell ya ders nat a hull lotta pint in cukkin a meal ya aint gunna ate? The wolverine shrugged, and the specter eyed her suspiciously. He pointed at her accusingly then smirked knowingly. Yer afeerd. Sliver glanced up, confused, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. The ghost took a step forward. Da tatted, pursed, an shaived huded gurl es afeerd uff whut peeple gunna thank off hur fud. The wolverine lifted her upper lip a bit. Damn him. She had no response, however, he was entirely right, and besides, he did enough talking for the both of them. The specter continued to heckle and coerce the Kelvic into entering the dining hall, plopping her down at the end of a table. Sliver picked a bit at the food, but was more concerned with how others were finding the meal.

[Balthazaar Kraigen]

‘Live test subjects.’ The words rolled around in his head and he began to feel very uneasy with this whole situation.

“You can’t be serious…” Balthazaar said, desperately hoping that his ghostly companion was just trying to rile him. Dr. Ophidian didn’t reply to this, he simply went around the room collecting a variety of equipment that would be used to brew the concoction.

“What if I make it too strong?! I could put someone in a comma! I don’t want to be responsible for that!” The young man said, anger dripping from his voice. The doctor stayed silent, he seemed to pay no heed to the ranting.

“Are you even listening to me?! Do you even care about the lives of the people are this ship?! Of course not! Someone like you could never care about anyone but themselves! I don’t even know why you’re a doctor!” By this point Balthazaar was yelling and loudly to boot. The doctor paid no attention and continued about his work, waiting for the young botanist to finish his tirade. When he had reduced himself to a quiet smoldering, Dr. Ophidian took a seat on the opposite side of the table and began to stare at him.

“Are we done now?” The doctor did not wait for a response, he took the young man’s silence as an affirmative and continued. “You need not worry about making the draught too strong. If anything, you’ll probably make it weak and ineffective.” This last comment threw Balthazaar for a loop and his anger began to diffuse.

“What do you mean by that?” His anger had now been replaced with an air of curiosity as he tried to decipher the doctor’s cryptic words.

“Well you see…” Dr. Ophidian began, once again reverting to his annoying habit of annunciating every word as he spoke. “From what I’ve observed of you thus far and I’d say it’s a pretty accurate description, you’re an incredibly cautious individual. You keep yourself reserved and alert, always expecting the worse to happen. Most importantly, you refuse to take risks. This is your major flaw. You’re a very bright and enthusiastic young man, but you’re over cautious nature holds you back. What this all means is…your draught will be weak and impotent.” His words were cold and calculating, leaving Balthazaar feeling exposed and vulnerable to the world. “Now that the air has been cleared, get to work.”

Balthazaar wanted to dispute the doctor’s words, to prove him wrong, but every time he opened his mouth words seemed to elude him. When speech seemed hopeless, the young man decided to follow his mentor’s orders and started making the concoction. The process was simple, cut the leaf into a little square with precise measurement and boil it much like you would with tea leaves. The tricky part was the measurements, if they were off by even half an inch it could be the difference between a light slumber and endless sleep.
After an hour of work, three small vials of the liquid were presented to the doctor in the hopes that one would gain his approval. Dr. Ophidian eyed them with scrutiny, his gaze shifting every once in a while to meet Balthazaar’s eye and stare him down. Minutes passed and the doctor finally rose from his chair and walked out the door, saying nothing as he did. He returned after a solid chunk of time had passed with one of the crew members in tow.

“This is Rags, he volunteered to taste the wonderful ‘tea’ you've made.” Dr. Ophidian said with a smile ushering the volunteer unto one of the sick beds. Rags was an average man all around, average height, average weight, average build and not particularly handsome or ugly. The only thing that stood out about him was his clothes. They looked as if they hadn’t been changed since the first time he put them on. They were ripped, tattered and the smell permeated throughout the room. After only very brief exposure with the man, it was clear why he was given his name.

“Here, drink this.” Dr. Ophidian said as he grabbed the first of the three vials and gave it to the smelly man. “Make sure to finish it, it will be hard to judge the taste without drinking it all.” He continued with a smile, amazing Balthazaar with his talent for lying. Throwing caution to the wind, Rags grabbed the vial and guzzled it down, a loud belch following. It isn’t long before the disgusting individual was asleep and Dr. Ophidian was examining his body.

“Hmmmm…looks like…the draught was very weak. He’ll probably only be asleep for a few hours.” He pauses and then looks at Balthazaar, his eyes scanning the young man for a reaction. When he found nothing but fatigue and frustration in return, he decided to give the young man a break.

“You look tired and hungry, why don’t you head up to the dining hall, I believe that dinner is ready. When you get back we’ll start again and hopefully…” The doctor paused, obviously biting back on saying something nasty. “Nevermind, just run along and eat something.”

Balthazaar was disappointed in his failure and did not like the idea of being surrounding by some many people in the dining hall. However, he was very hungry and the idea of getting away from Dr. Ophidian was very appealing.

“Very well doctor” Balthazaar whispered in bitterness, glaring at the doctor as he exited the room.

[Limey]

Massacre Skill and Lore Rewards Skills Lore Observation 1 Something Different Rhetoric 1 Hadar Coolwater: Reluctant Mentor Seamanship 1 Sides Of A Ship We'll Make A Sailor Yet! Sliver Skill and Lore Rewards Skills Lore Observation 3 Jamoura: Large And Curious Throwing 1 Not The Tutor I Was Expecting... Cooking 1 Should You Even Be Able To Smoke? Couldn't Hurt To Try The Three Amigos Rusty: Now THAT'S An Accent Fear Of Critique? Balthazaar Skill and Lore Rewards Skills Lore Observation 2 Seeking Adventure Rhetoric 1 A Grudging Relationship Herbalism 3 Bartholomew Ophidian: Doctor, If You Please The Value Of Hard Work No Pleasing Some "People" Lore: Lorkh’Grapha The Radical Approach Brutal (But Accurate) Honesty Live Subjects Shared Lores: Captain Delucia: Stern, Strict And Proper Introductions Teachers From Beyond The Grave Lore: Soulmist Additional Notes : Damn shame this didn't get finished, guys, because all of you are goo writers. Sliver, your guy's accent cracked me up completely and totally, talk about commitment to the role! Any questions or queries, please PM me.