89th of Spring 516 A.V.
The Tipsy Wench. Her knockers usually full of booze, wines, and other trade goods fit enough to make any girl jealous. Today she sits idly in the Docks of Syliras, just waiting for one to come across her empty hull. The ship had long since been docked since its arrival. Most of the crew absent about the city and the captain, Yngvarr Æðelwine, most likely enjoying a must needed rest on flat earth.
It wouldn’t be long now though, until her fine spirit would see the ocean’s waves once again. Preparing a ship is often a very tedious task, especially after being neglected for a short time after a long expedition. The ship was still standing strong, but certain things upon it still needed work. The sternpost and whipstaff steering need adjustment, and among all others the weaponry aboard the ship needed some minute repairs. The foremast and forecastle were showing signs of sticking as well, but that would be an easy fix. Mostly likely one of the crew members grew in a hurry and retracted the guide ropes a bit too fast from their docking.
Shimoje traveled to the docks with his usual tools, belt pouch, and varieties in his pack. The ship had its centerboard retracted to prevent wanderers boarding the ship. Remembering back to his previous trip he knew that at least one person would be aboard. “Siv!” Shimoje yelled upward to the masts. A head popped out of the very top of the crow’s nest on the top of the main mast. The man looked a bit drowsy as he stood up trying to catch his balance. Looking down the man said “Oi, I recognize ye’ bald head. Be you Shimoje?” Siv yelled down. He promptly bounced out of the nest and climbed his way down nearly losing his grip a couple of time. “shyke ye all!” Siv shouted, now out of sight from Shimoje.
The Tipsy Wench. Her knockers usually full of booze, wines, and other trade goods fit enough to make any girl jealous. Today she sits idly in the Docks of Syliras, just waiting for one to come across her empty hull. The ship had long since been docked since its arrival. Most of the crew absent about the city and the captain, Yngvarr Æðelwine, most likely enjoying a must needed rest on flat earth.
It wouldn’t be long now though, until her fine spirit would see the ocean’s waves once again. Preparing a ship is often a very tedious task, especially after being neglected for a short time after a long expedition. The ship was still standing strong, but certain things upon it still needed work. The sternpost and whipstaff steering need adjustment, and among all others the weaponry aboard the ship needed some minute repairs. The foremast and forecastle were showing signs of sticking as well, but that would be an easy fix. Mostly likely one of the crew members grew in a hurry and retracted the guide ropes a bit too fast from their docking.
Shimoje traveled to the docks with his usual tools, belt pouch, and varieties in his pack. The ship had its centerboard retracted to prevent wanderers boarding the ship. Remembering back to his previous trip he knew that at least one person would be aboard. “Siv!” Shimoje yelled upward to the masts. A head popped out of the very top of the crow’s nest on the top of the main mast. The man looked a bit drowsy as he stood up trying to catch his balance. Looking down the man said “Oi, I recognize ye’ bald head. Be you Shimoje?” Siv yelled down. He promptly bounced out of the nest and climbed his way down nearly losing his grip a couple of time. “shyke ye all!” Siv shouted, now out of sight from Shimoje.