17th Trial of Saun, 685th Arc
On the Orm’del Sea Aboard the Unrelenting
“Sail” The shout came over the wind as sailors all stopped in their work to stare at the man. It was a young pirate atop a shroud, clinging to the mesh rope with one arm and pointing three points off starboard with the other. Everyone looked to Captain Ramsor. Liam knelt at the forecastle, cleaning deck with sand and block as was fit a new crew member. Because of this he could not see old Spicy until the captain ran to the starboard stanchion and leant out with spyglass in hand. Spicy was a hard man, and red of hair and face. He was especially so now, the thrill of a prize having caught his interest. He stared out at the sail for a long moment.
That was when it hit him, the smell. Liam had been peering at Captain Ramsor and suddenly there was a tantalizing smell of…what? He stood and turned his head. It was clearly drifting to him from the direction of the pale square that was the sail, but the wind was going north, at an angle from it. They were not down wind.
“You smell that?” He asked a sailor next to him.
“Smell what? You piss your britches, boy-oh?” The man asked with a sneer. They were still suspicious and hostile of their newest crewman, who had so recently been a member of the Scalvoran Elements. But Liam had been working hard to earn their respect. Even as young as seventeen he knew it would take a trial by fire to fully earn their trust. Sailors were stubborn and suspicious by nature. Luckily for him, that trial seemed to be today.
Liam made no response, instead feeling a rushing need in his mind, a profound need. He drew his cutlass, only half aware of the movement, and leapt up onto the gunwale, gripping the thick cordage of the foremast shroud as he went. The sailor stared at him in confusion, for the other ship was still far off. Then he laughed.
“He’s an eager runt, isn’t he!” He proclaimed, and those near laughed.
“Sheath yar blade, boy. We open the dance with crossbows.” Said another sailor, tossing out light crossbows from a sea chest on deck. “Cap’ wants us to shoot down the boldest and the timid will surrender.”
Liam had only half heard him, for the first time in his life he had felt that deep compelling feeling, like a hound that had caught a scent that every instinct said to pursue. He wanted to order them hard to starboard, but he was only a boy. Not for long, he thought. He took the offered crossbow, and old janky thing. He had never used one.
“See this lever? You pull it to fire, pull the string back to this notch and set the bolt here.” The old pirate explained as men readied their weapons around them.
“Aye, and set the sharp end goin’ outward.” One man piped up to general chuckles.
On the Orm’del Sea Aboard the Unrelenting
“Sail” The shout came over the wind as sailors all stopped in their work to stare at the man. It was a young pirate atop a shroud, clinging to the mesh rope with one arm and pointing three points off starboard with the other. Everyone looked to Captain Ramsor. Liam knelt at the forecastle, cleaning deck with sand and block as was fit a new crew member. Because of this he could not see old Spicy until the captain ran to the starboard stanchion and leant out with spyglass in hand. Spicy was a hard man, and red of hair and face. He was especially so now, the thrill of a prize having caught his interest. He stared out at the sail for a long moment.
That was when it hit him, the smell. Liam had been peering at Captain Ramsor and suddenly there was a tantalizing smell of…what? He stood and turned his head. It was clearly drifting to him from the direction of the pale square that was the sail, but the wind was going north, at an angle from it. They were not down wind.
“You smell that?” He asked a sailor next to him.
“Smell what? You piss your britches, boy-oh?” The man asked with a sneer. They were still suspicious and hostile of their newest crewman, who had so recently been a member of the Scalvoran Elements. But Liam had been working hard to earn their respect. Even as young as seventeen he knew it would take a trial by fire to fully earn their trust. Sailors were stubborn and suspicious by nature. Luckily for him, that trial seemed to be today.
Liam made no response, instead feeling a rushing need in his mind, a profound need. He drew his cutlass, only half aware of the movement, and leapt up onto the gunwale, gripping the thick cordage of the foremast shroud as he went. The sailor stared at him in confusion, for the other ship was still far off. Then he laughed.
“He’s an eager runt, isn’t he!” He proclaimed, and those near laughed.
“Sheath yar blade, boy. We open the dance with crossbows.” Said another sailor, tossing out light crossbows from a sea chest on deck. “Cap’ wants us to shoot down the boldest and the timid will surrender.”
Liam had only half heard him, for the first time in his life he had felt that deep compelling feeling, like a hound that had caught a scent that every instinct said to pursue. He wanted to order them hard to starboard, but he was only a boy. Not for long, he thought. He took the offered crossbow, and old janky thing. He had never used one.
“See this lever? You pull it to fire, pull the string back to this notch and set the bolt here.” The old pirate explained as men readied their weapons around them.
“Aye, and set the sharp end goin’ outward.” One man piped up to general chuckles.