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Post by Brandwyn on Jul 15, 2012 12:03:46 GMT -5
(OOC: The year is 657 and the time is mid to late Novemeber when the weather has turned cold, but the winter snows are only just beginning in the higher elevations of the Teutlandt mountains.)
The razor sharp longsword raced toward Arrow’s head from above, but instinctively he leaned to the right and twisted his left shoulder back and the blade passed harmlessly by, throwing its wielder off-balance. Arrow stepped in to his opponent's left side and placed his own saber at the man’s throat. Orik’s eyes widened in fear as Arrow smirked at him then flicked his eyes to their commanding officer.
Commander Gustaf stood with arms folded across his massive chest and a huge frown on his face as he watched the advanced recruits training in the practice yard at the Grizzly’s main training camp, Barentatze in Teutlandt. He had been following Arrow’s career for the last three years wondering if he could trust a former ranger apprentice for a special assignment. Arrow had advanced very quickly in his training, eager to excel in swordsmanship and other forms of fighting and interrogation. The lad was as quick on his feet as he was with his sharp wit and Gustaf knew he had amazing skills at deception, something that would be needed if he were to send the boy to Araluen. The problem he was pondering was whether or not the boy was using those skills now on him and the other instructors here in Barentatze. He had the others convinced he had completely accepted the bonds of a life as a mercenary in the Grizzly’s army. Gustaf was not so sure. He had thought he had once turned a ranger, not so long ago and was even now just cleaning up that mess.
Gustaf shook his head at Arrow indicating he was not to bloody another recruit. The boy stared him down for nearly a minute before he finally lowered his eyes and his weapon from the larger man’s throat. ‘That one is trouble,’ Gustaf thought for the hundredth time, ‘always challenging me. Best get him out of here and seeing some action.’ One thing he had learned over the years is that when highly trained killing machines grow bored, bad things happen. It had been a challenge to keep the lad with the white hair interested and engaged in his training and he was now at the point where his instructors were not able to teach him anything else. What he needed now was some experiences and a healthy dose of maturity. Arrow was still young, obnoxious and a smart aleck. He also had a cruel streak that Gustaf had encouraged, but in a few years once he was a bit more mature he would make a top notch operative. He motioned the two young men over.
“Get cleaned up and be in my office in twenty minutes. I have a job for you,” he ordered and then stalked off the training grounds, shoving a large, rather dumb looking brand new recruit aside who didn’t move out of his way quickly enough.
Arrow watched him go and though he was inwardly excited, he let no emotion show on his face. He turned to Orik, one of his few friends whom he had moments before been prepared to kill if the Commander had ordered it, and shrugged. He knew Orik had just been about to ask him what was up and jumped to the answer before the question had been uttered by the big recruit. “Don’t know, but we better do as he says and quick!”
Arrow and Orik ran to the dorms and splashed water on themselves and hurriedly changed clothes. The military bunk house at the base of the castle wall was always kept in an immaculate state. One thing the Grizzly’s insisted upon was a clean and orderly living conditions. This was reflected in everything from Castle Barentatze to an individual’s encampment on the road and the army encampments when they were on campaign.
Punctuality was another cherished trait and so Arrow and Orik arrived outside of Gustaf’s office precisely two minutes early. Gustaf heard them and called for them to enter. He was busy putting his seal on two documents he had rolled up and when the wax was dry he placed them in a satchel with several others. Finally he turned his attention upon the two vastly different young men before him.
He sat back, folding his arms across his chest again and looked each of them over. Orik lowered his eyes and fidgeted under the scrutiny, but Arrow held his gaze as if challenging him to find something wrong. Arrow wondered what kind of an assignment they were about to receive. He wouldn’t care though, as long as it got him out of this cursed castle and out from under the constant watch of the garrison’s soldiers and instructors. Arrow tried to look interested but not too excited, as if this was all very routine for him, when in fact it was not. This would be his very first assignment as an agent and not as part of a unit, or so he hoped.
“You two have been here for three years now and I have been informed by your instructors that you are as ready for an assignment as you will ever be.” Gustaf stated. “Orik, your assignment is simple; go with Arrow wherever he goes and make sure he returns here upon completing his assignment. You are to offer him whatever assistance he needs that you can provide in the fulfillment of his tasks, but your main job is to ensure that he returns.” Gustaf was watching Arrow for his reaction, so Arrow made sure he kept his face impassive and just stared Gustaf back in the eye. “Do you understand your assignment Orik?”
Orik nodded, swallowed and finally croaked, “Yes Sir! I am to make sure Arrow returns here when he has finished his job.”
“Good man. You remember that assignment Orik. I will hold you to it.” The Commander forced eye contact with Orik, making his threat clear. If Arrow didn’t return, Orik’s life was forfeit. This complicated matters slightly for Arrow, but he would figure that out later.
Gustaf handed Arrow a square package of parchment, “Those are your orders. In them you will find what to do with the scrolls.” He tossed the satchel full of scrolls to Arrow. “You will travel by land just into Gallica on the northern coast along the Stormwhite Sea. In the tiny fishing town of La Rochelle you will find a merchant vessel called the Krackatowan Razor. Her captain is a man with a rather colorful background as a merchant and smuggler, among other things. His name is Antonio de Cortina. You will find a ticket in your orders that will gain you free passage on his ship.”
Arrow opened the orders and thumbed through the myriad scraps of parchment. He saw the voucher for the Razor, but his eyes were pulled toward a folded map, the corner visible was recognizable as Celtica. His excitement mounted but he kept his features schooled to a thoughtful look as he glanced at the other documents, most of which were descriptions of men.
“As you can see, you are being sent to find certain operatives who have gone missing and have not been heard from in quite some time. You are to determine their whereabouts and condition. There are documents for each of them if you catch up with them. If they appear to have defected from the Grizzlies, then you are to eliminate them. We can’t afford to have any rouge agents running around free, can we?” Gustaf pinned Arrow with a pointed stare, but Arrow just looked at him innocently.
“Of course not Sir,” he supplied the sought after compliant answer. “And where is it this ship is going to be taking us, Sir?”
“Your first stop is Seacliff in Araluen. Follow the map and it will take you to the last known location of your first target. You have a profile of each operative and all pertinent information needed to track them down, if they are still alive. I suggest you study it all closely on your way to Seacliff.” Gustaf answered as he stood up and walked around his desk to stand before Arrow. He was a massive figure in front of the slim, wiry teenager. “You understand Orik’s orders?”
“Of course sir,” Arrow said snidely, a hint of a slip in his self-control.
“Don’t get any ideas about returning to your old life. You are a Grizzly now and you will die as one.” Gustaf stared at Arrow, their eyes locked as each of them tried to read the other. Arrow knew he would be placed on this list and others would be hunting him down if he defected. Slowly he nodded his head, “I understand Sir,” he said sincerely.
“Sir, I might find it easier to move about the countryside disguised as a ranger.” Arrow suggested, a plan beginning to form in his head. “I might even be able to infiltrate the Ranger Corps if I were to report back to Crowley with a plausible reason for being away so long.”
Gustaf eyed him for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I confess the thought occurred to me, but I am unsure if you are up to the task of being a double agent. It takes a great toll on a person…and a lot of patience which is something you seem to have a short supply of.”
“I can do it, Sir!” Arrow said with a gleam in his eye. “It would be the perfect way for you to know what the Ranger Corps is working on and I know I can pull it off. Besides, there are some rangers that I would love to run into again, if you know what I mean,” he growled, remembering the activities three years ago that had led him to his current plight.
Gustaf leaned back onto his desk and folded his arms again, tapping one finger on his elbow as he studied the young man in front of him. Once again all the attributes as well as all the doubts weighed in his mind. Finally he reached a conclusion; if the boy did go rogue, they could always eliminate him, so the only thing to loose is that Arrow knew where Barentatze was located and its strengths and weaknesses. If he gave this information to the Rangers, however, would they act upon it? They currently had no reason to and soon it would likely not matter.
“Very well,” Gustaf agreed finally. “Report to the Ranger Corps Commander and give him your story. Send a report on your status, but whatever duties they assign you to, these orders must be of your first concern, you understand?” Gustaf asked and Arrow nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He was barely keeping his excitement in check. “You leave within the hour. Go see the Quartermaster and get your provisions and be sure to take horses or you will never make the ship in time. She leaves port in three days from midnight.”
“Thank you Sir!” Arrow saluted and turned to go, but paused as Gustaf said, “oh, and Arrow, try not to irritate de Cortina. He has a tendency to throw people overboard when deep out to sea.” Arrow scowled and continued out the door, not acknowledging the Commander’s suggestion.
An hour later saw them climbing through the mountains toward a high pass which would open up a whole new chance at life for Arrow. He smiled to himself, figuring that his first step would be to get rid of Orik somehow, and then he could be free.
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Post by Brandwyn on Jul 22, 2012 21:40:05 GMT -5
Three nights later Tony was standing at the rail of the Krackatowan Razor with his first mate, Mortimer Kinkaid, at his side. Everything was ready to go and he had a deadline to meet. He was thinking that this last deal he had made wasn’t going to be worth the effort, especially if these mercenaries were going to throw him off track in his shipments. The Baron was one person Tony did not plan to keep waiting and his only excuse could be if the weather were so bad they had to detour or put in to port to wait it out. He doubted the Baron would really appreciate either answer and besides, he didn’t want to let the man down because his reputation was on the line anyway.
“Let me know as soon as the tide starts to turn. We will give them a half hour past the turning and then we are leaving without them.” Tony said to Mort. “Lee has everything, all the supplies are loaded and we didn’t forget anything?”
“Yes, Sir,” Mort answered. “Lee said we even have some specialty food items this trip. Burn is all excited and says he is going to cook us some meals to be remembered on this trip.”
Tony smiled, “I think he is showing off for that new apprentice he has.” Mort nodded agreement. “How’s the crew taking to her?”
Mortimer rested his elbows on the railing and looked up to the right of the port, beyond the village at the mountain peaks in surrounding the small town and wondered if their passengers were having a hard time getting through the snowstorm blowing up there. “Well, there are still some that are grumbling, but since the last three trips have proven profitable and no disaster has fallen, it seems to be just among those old die-hard chums that don’t want to admit they were wrong about her.”
Tony nodded this time, “I bet I can guess who. No trouble with anyone in the crew trying to take advantage of her?”
Mort shook his head and grinned, “I think they might jest believe your threat to string up on the yardarm by their necks if they touch her. If anyone has tried anything, she hasn’t said a word about it.”
“That’s good but I still don’t like her staying down there with the crew. Provides too much temptation if you know what I mean, even if she is still very young.” Tony glanced up from the water where he’d been trying to determine if the tide was now going out instead of coming in when he heard the unmistakable sound of trotting horses on the narrow cobblestone streets. “Maybe that’s them at last.”
He watched two men ride up through the deserted street and pause to search the ships moored along the quay. His eyes met and held that of the slender one in the lead and the rider urged his horse forward with a nudge. The man was young and had shockingly white hair visible under the heavy woolen gray cloak and wolf furs the man was wearing. He was slender but not overly tall and his skin was very pale. His tired horse was a light gray and Tony thought they were a strange-looking pair. Was this really the operative the Grizzly Commander had sent him?
His eyes flicked to the young man’s companion who wasn’t much older, though he was a lot larger. This man was riding a heavy draft horse but didn’t seem too comfortable on it. He wore armor under his furs, standard issue Teutdlandt army weapons and had the same rather vacant stare Tony had seen in many soldiers. ‘Nope, the white lad has to be the one, he has a very intelligent look to his eyes and he isn’t flinching.’ Tony thought as the leader of the two called out for permission to come aboard.
“Permission granted.” Tony waved them on his ship with a mere tip of his head to indicate they had permission. They dismounted and led their horses up the cargo plank. Tony turned to watch them. “See if they have the papers,” he said to Mort.
Mortimer approached them and nodded greetings, “Welcome aboard the Razor. I assume you have the voucher?”
The young man looked over the Captain, his first mate and then the ship with a condescending tilt to his nose before he finally pulled one glove off and thumbed through a large group of parchment sheets to find the voucher granting him and Orik passage. He handed it to Mort who looked it over and passed it back to Tony as the Captain moved closer to inspect the new arrivals. “Seems to be in order, as was promised,” Mortimer said to Tony. "We have here one Arrow and one Orik." Mort raised an eyebrow dubiously as he looked them over. They were both rather young and the big guy looked a little scared. 'He must have Skandian in him,' Mort thought.
“I require a nice stall for my horse with lots of bedding and fresh water. Orik here will need a cabin and I shall take yours, Captain.” He ordered, pulling his glove back on and looking around the ship in distaste.
Mortimer guffawed and slapped his thigh, “will you get a load of this kid?” He turned back to Arrow and was about to say something when Tony lay a hand on his shoulder as he stepped up in front of the delusional youth.
“I am the Captain on this ship, Boy,” he said with contempt. “You will do as I say or I’ll put you off, no matter where we are. This isn’t a passenger ship and no snot-nosed spoiled little brat is going to order me around on my ship!” Tony glared at the younger man.
Without a word Arrow slipped forward and pulled a knife, pushing it up against Tony’s throat. The pirate just stood there as his glare turned to a grin. He watched Mortimer’s hand streak out and grab the young man by the throat and sweep the boy’s legs with his right leg. Arrow was pushed backwards and slammed into the deck, The impact knocked the wind out of him and jarred the knife loose from his hand.
Tony saw Orik step forward to defend Arrow but the look in Tony’s eye stopped him, well that and the crossbow bolt that was suddenly aimed right at his chest. Tony grinned at him, “go ahead, I haven’t gotten any target practice done in ages.”
Orik froze and stood helplessly as Mortimer leaned forward and laid Arrow’s own knife against the lad’s white throat. “Play nice, now Boy, or we’ll take away your toys,” he growled in Arrow’s ear and then he slammed the knife into the deck a fraction of an inch from Arrow’s ear. He jumped up, ready to complete the lesson, in case it hadn’t sunk in.
Tony, with the crossbow still leveled at Orik said, “Now, your horses will be placed in the hold and you two will bed down with the crew, or you can sleep with your horses – your choice.” Tony said speaking to Arrow as if he was a three-year-old. "You’ll eat what the crew eats, when the crew eats or you’ll go hungry and if the ship comes under attack, you will fight with us or I will kill you myself. You understand, Boy?”
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Post by Brandwyn on Jul 24, 2012 14:13:26 GMT -5
The trip through the Teutlandt Mountains had not been an easy one but Arrow had started out in great spirits simply because he was finally free of the stone cage of Castle Berentatze. He knew he wasn’t entirely free, and doubted he ever would be completely free of the Grizzlies, but he would worry about that later. For now it was enough that he was riding over icy, rocky trails with his friend for company almost like old times with his ranger mentor, Albion. He wondered what had become of the crusty old ranger in the last three years. Had he tried to find Arrow? Did he care? Bitterness cropped up once again that the rangers had just abandoned him and presumed him dead or else they didn’t care enough about him to try and find him. Once again he wondered at the assignment Palisade had sent him on that had led to his capture. Was it an accident or was Palisade hoping to get rid of Arrow. It was no secret the blond ranger had disliked him. Arrow certainly had never trusted Palisade and especially his mousy little apprentice, Tory. Maybe they had been killed by the Grizzlies when they had taken the La Rivage, why else wouldn’t they have tried to find him when he went missing? Once again the answer jumped out at him, ‘because they didn’t care,’ he thought bitterly. Despite his bitterness, he was still enjoying the frigid ride through the wilderness on a barely discernable mountain trail the map called Straube auf dem Seeweg, or ‘road by the sea’.
“What you wool gathering about, Arrow?” Orik asked and jarred Arrow from his thoughts. The night was cold; a stiff wind was blowing off the sea and up the mountain right into their face. The smell of salt was heavy on the breeze and the moisture from the sea was freezing into hard pellets of ice as it rose. It was almost as if it was sleeting from the ground to the sky. Arrow had never experienced anything like it before and was going to be glad to get out of it when they reached the village below.
“Nothing,” Arrow answered curtly. He looked at the moon which popped out from behind the clouds every so often. “We aren’t going to make it.” He wanted to urge Shadow to go faster, but he knew the trail was treacherous enough in the dark with all the ice.
“They’ll wait for us,” Orik said optimistically as he followed Arrow around an outcrop of rock and down a steep incline. At the bottom they seemed to be much closer to the village and the little harbor than mere minutes before. The sheer mountains gave way gradually to rocky slopes and Arrow felt it safe to pick up the speed. He could see half a handful of ships in the harbor and wondered which one was the Krackatowan Razor.
They cantered up to the village and then he slowed, not wanting to call attention to themselves at such a late hour. Few lights were lit in the houses and shops lining the streets and the little village was sleeping peacefully. It would be best if they weren’t seen or remembered.
They trotted down to the harbor and Arrow looked over each ship, his eyes finally coming to rest on a bulk of a man who was watching him intently. “Must be that one,” he muttered to Orik and turned Shadow to approach the ship. “Permission to come aboard,” he called out just loud enough for the two men on the deck watching them to hear. The big swarthy man nodded and Arrow assumed he must be this Captain de Cortina Commander Gustaf had mentioned. Arrow had little patience for pirates and despite the title of ‘smuggler’, it was obvious these were pirates and not only that but their captain was a Toscano pirate, by the looks of his darker skin and nearly black hair and the clothing he wore. Arrow didn’t have any issue with Toscano’s in particular, but he had heard many stories about them from an old trader friend of Albion’s who thought they were a nation of crooks and braggarts. This guy seemed to fit the bill.
They led their horses up the gangplank and Mortimer approached them and nodded greetings, “Welcome aboard the Razor. I assume you have the voucher?”
Arrow looked around the ship and the slight crew that was visible, waiting to get the ship under way. Then he looked over the man in front of him and the Captain who was still watching him intently. So they weren’t going to trust him any more than he was going to trust them. Arrow finally produced the ticket that was in his package of orders, being very careful to hide the rest of the contents from the two pirates.
“Seems to be in order, as was promised,” Mortimer said to Tony. "We have here one Arrow and one Orik."
Arrow just sneered at him, not offering any clarification as to who was which. Let them figure it out. He looked around the ship again and wondered just where he and Orik were supposed to hole up for the duration of the week long cruise. He decided to take control of the situation from the start and show them he wasn’t one to be trifled with. “I require a nice stall for my horse with lots of bedding and fresh water. Orik here will need a cabin and I shall take yours, Captain.” He ordered, pulling his glove back on and looking around the ship in distaste.
Mortimer guffawed and slapped his thigh, “will you get a load of this kid?” He turned back to Arrow and was about to say something when Tony lay a hand on his shoulder as he stepped up in front of the delusional youth.
“I am the Captain on this ship, Boy,” he said with contempt. “You will do as I say or I’ll put you off, no matter where we are. This isn’t a passenger ship and no snot-nosed spoiled little brat is going to order me around on my ship!” Tony glared at the younger man.
How dare he talk to a Grizzly operative in this manner? Arrow fumed, but he didn’t show any emotion on his face. Without a word he sprang at Tony, intending to put some fear into him. ‘He isn’t going to mess with me,’ Arrow thought and in a swift motion pulled his ranger saxe knife and lay it against the Captain’s throat. He opened his mouth to tell the Captain he’d better rethink that answer but no words came out.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the first mate’s hand lash out and felt it grab his throat right around his larynx. The grip tightened, cutting off his air and something hit the backs of both his legs, knocking them out from under him. He felt himself falling backwards and grabbed for Tony’s shirt as he went down.
He hit the deck hard and the air gushed from his lungs. In seconds the wiry man was in his face as he gasped for air. “Play nice, now Boy, or we’ll take away your toys,” Mortimer hissed in his ear and Arrow glared at him. He would pay for this insolence. He felt the knife, his knife, move from the side of his neck and saw Mortimer drive it into the ground right next to his head. For a moment Arrow had thought it was going through his eye instead.
Before he could recover de Cortina was leaning over him as well and he saw the crossbow aimed at Orik. “Now, your horses will be placed in the hold and you two will bed down with the crew, or you can sleep with your horses – your choice.” Tony said speaking to Arrow as if he was a three-year-old. "You’ll eat what the crew eats, when the crew eats or you’ll go hungry and if the ship comes under attack, you will fight with us or I will kill you myself. You understand, Boy?”
Arrow glared up at him, not moving and not answering and Tony glared back at him, holding him down with a foot on Arrow’s chest which wasn’t making the process of breathing any easier.
“Well we are off to a great start, aren’t we?” Orik said cheerfully, although he hadn’t managed to keep all the nervousness out of his voice. “The hold should be fine for our needs, don’t you think, Arrow?”
“Always…the dip…lomat,” Arrow panted. “Get…off… me!” He reached for his knife, intending to pull it out of the deck and stab Tony’s foot with it if he needed to. Suddenly the pressure on his chest and his knife were gone. Tony had moved so fast Arrow had almost missed it. Arrows knife was now imbedded in the deck a good 15 feet away from them, the hilt quivering with the force of the throw. Arrow sucked in a deep breath and jumped to his feet, crouching in front of the two pirates, unsure of what they were planning. “Is this how you treat all your guests, de Cortina?” He said snidely, nearly spitting the name in contempt.
Tony threw back his head and laughed and Arrow looked at him in confusion, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re not my guest, Boy…” Tony laughed and Mort was grinning beside him, gathered to spring on Arrow again if the boy tried anything. “You’re my cargo. Now go down there in the hold so my men can lower your horses down there.”
Arrow noticed now that the sailors were trying to get a harness around Shadow and they were getting rougher as they were growing more frustrated because the horse refused to cooperate. With a parting glare at the Captain and first mate, Arrow jumped to his horses’ side and calmed him down. He helped the men get the harness on and then as his horse was lowered he ran down to the ladder and scurried to the hole so he could calm Shadow and get him unhooked from the harness. “It’s not over yet, Cortina,” he muttered softly as he led Shadow across the packed hold to a spot that had been set up for the horses. The whole incident proved the crew and captain of the Krackatowan Razor were not to be trusted. ‘Just as well I am going to sleep here with Shadow, since they’ll probably steal me blind otherwise.’ He thought as he watched Orik’s draft horse lowered into the hold. No it wasn’t over by a long shot. In fact, it was just beginning.
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Post by Brandwyn on Aug 13, 2012 12:48:58 GMT -5
For two days the Razor hugged the coastline around the northern side of Gallica until they exited the straights out of the mouth of the Stormwhite Sea and turned west toward Picta and Araluen. An hour after dawn they could not see the coast any longer and the fog had lifted. The wind was picking up and it looked to Tony as if they would make good time today. “Play out the sheets, Mort. I want to get as much speed as we can while the weather is good,” Tony said to his first mate while watching Arrow and Orik amidships. “Have one of the guys keep an eye on those two. I don’t want them snooping around below decks, if you know what I mean.”
Mort nodded, also watching their two ‘guests’, “Ai, ai, Sir.” Mortimer relayed the orders for the sail and the ship’s speed increased slightly as they utilized all the sail they had available on their three masts. The Razor was filled to the brim, however and sat low in the water. The extra weight caused some drag and though she was still moving very fast, she definitely wasn’t the fastest ship out there. Mortimer hoped they wouldn’t run into any trouble on this journey for they had enough brewing with that white-haired devil they’d let on board. He sidled past Orik and Arrow as he made his way forward to speak with Ulrich who was leaning nonchalantly against the rail at the prow seemingly oblivious to the light spray washing over him as the Razor pierced the waves and flew through the sea.
“Ulrich,” Mort greeted him. “I see you find our final bits of cargo interesting?” Mortimer moved so the figurehead was blocking the bulk of the cold spray that showered them every so often. “The Captain wants one of us to keep an eye on them at all times.” Mort continued, “He particularly wants to make sure they don’t get too nosy down below – way below.” All of the crew except the three new members knew about the special cargo holds below the main cargo hold. Some of them, such as Mortimer, Ulrich and Lee had even helped create the four hidden compartments. It was unlikely their young ‘guests’ would find the precious, and quite illegal, cargo that was hidden there, but Tony wasn’t taking any chances. “I figure you, Lee and myself can probably make sure these two stay out of trouble between the three of us. Tony seems to have taken a dislike to the boy and you know how he can get.”
Mortimer watched Arrow and Orik cleaning and soaping up their saddles and horse tack for a few minutes and then turned his attention on Tony. Their Captain was at the wheel in his usual place with the wind whipping his hair out behind him and his black cat perched on his shoulder. Spook loved to sit on Tony’s shoulder and feel the wind in her face as she wrapped her tail securely around the pirate’s neck. The sight still brought a smile to Mortimer’s lips thinking that to anyone who didn’t know their Captain, they might mistakenly think Tony was a pansy. The truth was, however, that Mortimer had seen Tony fight more ferociously than any Grizzly bear when he was cornered and when his crew was threatened. He wasn’t the type to sit back and let his crew take all the risks nor was he one to sit back and take orders from anyone. The fact that Tony was going out of his way to stay on a certain Baron’s good side disturbed Mortimer. So far he couldn’t complain, however, since all of their dealings with Rathbone thus far had been extremely profitable and generally not very risky. This current shipment, however, Mortimer knew was weighing heavily on Tony’s mind. The only thing Mort didn’t know was if the cargo they had right now was for the Baron or not. Tony tended to keep the bulk of his business deals to himself and only let the crew know certain things he felt they needed to know. Mortimer was happy with that arrangement. He had little patience for wheeling and dealing and that is what Tony excelled at. So for Mort, the less he knew the better, just as long as he had coins in his pocket enough for some good ale and a pretty wench or three when they were in port.
“I better go find Lee and let him know, then I am going to see what Burn and that girl of his are cooking up for breakfast.” Mortimer said to Ulrich. “Keep an eye on those two for me for a bit,” he nodded toward Arrow and then slipped down below to Lee’s cabin in the aft cargo hold.
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Post by Brandwyn on Aug 16, 2012 10:25:07 GMT -5
Arrow was soaping his leather armor pieces and horse tack to keep it soft and pliable. The harsh weather in the mountains had left it hard and cracking in certain places and he didn’t want a key piece of equipment to fail at inopportune moment. Orik was happily polishing his plate armor while enjoying the fresh sea air as they sat on the deck on a couple of crates. The Skandian lad seemed to be in his element and in a great mood as a result of being out to sea. Arrow, however, was less than thrilled. He didn’t particularly like or dislike ships. They were a means to an end, a way to get from point A to point B and nothing more. He was impatient to be off this ship where they were being closely watched day and night.
He watched the first mate, a man he completely distrusted and didn’t like, speak first with the captain then with the hired swordsman at the front of the ship. They both turned to look at Orik and he and Arrow glared back at them, pausing in his cleaning so they would know he knew they were talking about him. He disliked being made the butt of anyone’s joke and more than that he disliked being watched constantly. He’d thought those days were over once he and Orik had left the confines of Barentatze, but apparently he was mistaken. He went back to scrubbing the cinch strap on his saddle when Mortimer went below, but he kept a watch on Ulrich out of the corner of his eye. Ulrich looked bored, but Arrow could tell he was watching Arrow’s every move. Arrow seethed with anger as he tried to figure out a way to counter this new surveillance on his freedom.
“Sail Ahoy!” The lookout in the crow’s nest high above called out.
“Where away?” The Captain called back and reached for his looking glass.
“Port bow, on the horizon” The answer came floating down and the lookout pointed off to the left of the front of the Razor. Arrow stood up and craned his neck to see, but all he saw was water.
Tony trained the long leather tube with glass prisms in it on the distant horizon for some minutes without making another sound. He turned the Razor slightly to the port, hoping to get a bit closer to the ship his lookout spotted. Arrow glanced from the lookout, to the Captain, to the horizon and back, wondering who was out there.
“Colors?” Tony finally called up to the lookout who did not answer right away. They had only that morning struck the Gallican colors and were now flying an Araluen flag. Arrow wondered how the Captain had acquired so many different flags and felt no qualms about switching from one to the other.
“Colors?” Tony called up again, a note of irritation in his voice.
Finally the lookout called back down, lowering his own telescope, “Araluen and she’s adrift, Sir!”
“Damn!” Tony muttered and turned the Razor’s rudder further so they were now heading toward the ship on the horizon. Arrow didn’t know a lot about sailing, but he was aware that there was some code among sailors that if a sail was spotted they were supposed to get close enough to greet each other or something like that. He personally thought it was stupid, since that is how many pirates were able to prey on other ships. By the time the ship found out they were greeting pirates, they were too close to outrun them. If he were the captain, he would have just kept on going and pretended he’d never seen the ship in the first place. Who would know? They certainly weren’t close enough to identify one ship from another.
As they got closer, Mortimer came back up on deck and took up his stance beside Tony next to the ship’s wheel. Arrow could see them conversing as the Razor got close enough to the Araluen ship that even Arrow could see her sails flapping wildly, the air spilling out of them and it drifting randomly. There was no movement on the deck. The scene was eerie and made Arrow uncomfortable. He wondered what Tony was going to do.
When they got within hailing distance Mortimer gave a blast on an elk horn and then hollered, “Ahoy There!” to anyone that might be on the ship. They waited tensely as Tony ordered the Razor to slow and circled around the derelict ship, keeping a good distance from it. Arrow scanned the rest of the horizon, wondering if this was a trap of some sort, but he didn’t see any other ships in the area.
Mortimer repeated the hail two more times and they waited a bit longer, keeping pace with the ship that was lazily drifting back in the general direction from which they’d come, being pulled along by the current rather than moved by the wind. Arrow thought he saw a body slumped on the deck near the forecastle, but he wasn’t sure.
“Help!” there came a weak voice drifting across the water from the Araluen ship. The voice was high pitched and sounded scared. “Help! Help!” It sounded like it belonged to someone very young.
“Where’s your Captain, Boy?” Tony bellowed, having seen something through his spy glass.
“Dead…They’re all dead.” The boy sobbed and then Arrow could see a head pop up out of the crow’s nest of the other ship. “Please don’t leave me here!”
Tony and Mortimer conferred again and Arrow moved closer so he could hear their conversation.
“It’s the plague, Tony, you can’t bring him on here. We could all catch it and end up just like her.” Mortimer pointed to the drifting ship. “Is that what you want?”
“We can’t just leave him there to die.” Tony argued. “If he should happen to survive and report us…besides, it is bad luck.”
“Bah!” Mortimer waved dismissively, “you and your superstitions, Sir.” He grabbed the telescope and ran it over the entire length of the ship as Tony stroked his chin figuring his options. “I see them, Tony, it is definitely the plague.”
“What plague?” Arrow asked suspiciously as he moved closer, unconcerned now that they might not want him listening in on their conversation.
“The White Death,” Mortimer answered and at Arrow’s blank look he continued, “You know, the plague ravaging all of Araluen? The one they said the Wargals brought when they were rampaging through Norgate Fief last winter.” Again Arrow stared at Mortimer blankly. “You haven’t heard anything about it? No wonder you are going so willingly to Araluen. Anyone with half a brain is avoiding the place – like – like a plague!” Mortimer laughed at his own joke, but quickly turned back to his Captain. “We can’t bring the boy on board here. He is probably already sick and dying.”
“He looks healthy enough,” Tony countered. “We can’t just leave him there, he will die for sure. The odds of another ship happening along are pretty slim to none this time of year. If the storms coming don’t sink her, then the kid will die of starvation.”
Arrow looked back at the kid who was scrambling down the rigging. He looked to be about 11 years old and was moving like he wasn’t sick. But just because he wasn’t visibly sick, didn’t mean he couldn’t bring the sickness over with him. “Leave him. We aren’t responsible for the kid.” Arrow said contemptuously, trying to mask his fear of catching a deadly disease.
The boy had jumped to the deck and was waving his arms frantically at them, “help me, please! There’s no food and everyone is dead. You can’t leave me here!” He was crying desperately, his voice filled with despair. “I’m not sick, honest!”
Arrow felt pity for the boy, but not enough to risk his own life. He looked back to Tony to see what the Captain was thinking. Was he going to have to kill the Captain to prevent him from bringing a plague on board the Razor? He would if he had to. Arrow fingered the hilt of his belt knife.
Suddenly Tony’s face went from thoughtful to determined as he studied the other ship. “Mort, you think the Razor can tow her without doing any damage?”
Mort looked it over and nodded reluctantly. “Probably, what you have in mind?”
Tony ordered one of the sailors to go below and have Burn package up a week’s worth of food and water for a teenage boy. “Get those grappling hooks ready, we’ll need four at least, and when I give the word toss two of them over her bow on this side.” Tony ordered and Mort began to see the plan.
“Where you going to tow her to?” Arrow asked incredulously. “We are in the middle of the sea!”
“We are a day and a half north of the main shipping route to La Rivage.” Tony explained as he maneuvered the Razor in front of the Araluen ship. As they passed the hull, Arrow could see the name “The Flying Swan” painted on the prow. “We can get him within half a day’s sail to the coast, give him the dingy and some more food and he should be able to make it ashore.” He saw the boy moving along with the Razor and hollered over, “Clear the way, Boy and you keep your distance on the deck. We are sending over some food.”
“You can’t leave me on here!” he sounded panicked and started crying harder.
Tony ordered the grappling hooks to be thrown and two of the crew members successfully snared the Flying Swan and tied off the ropes as Tony moved in front of the drifting ship. They lost speed as their wind was interrupted momentarily as they tacked partly against the wind. Then the other two hooks snared the other side of the Bear’s prow and Tony ordered the sails trimmed. There was a shudder and the timbers of the Razor creaked and moaned as the ropes grew taut and she took on the weight of the other ship. They slowed even further and Tony wondered if his plan was going to work.
The boy stood on the deck, fists clenched at his sides as he slowly realized what was happening. Then a sack of food landed at his feet and the boy tore into it, first taking a long swig out of the canteen and then tearing into a hunk of sausage and a loaf of bread.
“How long you been adrift, Son?” Tony called over as they all watched him eating as if he’d been starving for a month.
The boy paused and counted on his fingers, “fourteen days,” he called back, “and we had little food when we left Marshwood.”
“What’s your name?” Mortimer called back and the boy didn’t answer immediately since his mouth was too full.
“Jonathan Grisby, from Norgate,” he finally supplied the answer and took another long draft of water. “My Pa died on the way to Marshwood after my sister caught the plague in Norgate and died there. Ma and I got on this ship and she said we were going to be fine, but she was already sick. So was a bunch of others. They all died, most of them a week out. It kills some people real quick, but I never got it.”
Arrow looked at Tony warily as Orik walked up next to him. “Don’t even think about bringing that kid on this ship,” Arrow growled.
Silently Mortimer agreed, but it wasn’t his call to make. He wondered if they were close enough now to catch the plague. The thought terrified him and there wasn’t much that scared the first mate, certainly not the white-haired Grizzly’s idle threats.
Tony looked at both of them and then back to the kid, “I don’t plan to, but we can’t leave him. The Razor is starting to move now, so we just get him back close enough to land so he can go off on his own then hightail it out of there before we are seen.”
Arrow shrugged and moved to the far end of the Razor, as far from the plague ridden ship as he could get. He didn’t care if the kid made it or not. It wasn’t his problem, but if necessary, he would prevent the plague from spreading to the Razor one way or another. He wondered if his Commander had knowingly sent him and Orik into plague infested lands. He strung his bow and stood watching and waiting. The thought of dying from an illness was scary and Arrow wasn't sure what he was going to do once they got close to land again. While he was watching both ships he got to thinking about why Tony had him and Orik under such close watch. ‘Maybe you got something on this ship you don’t want me to see, eh there Capitan?’ he mused. Maybe he would just have to do some snooping when people were distracted.
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Post by Brandwyn on Aug 23, 2012 16:33:29 GMT -5
“I sure hope the Cap’n knows what he’s doin’,” Burn muttered as he handed Mortimer the sack of food for the plague victim. Wenton Rothburn wasn’t afraid of the plague. He wasn’t afraid of much of anything anymore, not after the fire in a kitchen in a manor house had nearly killed him and left him with burn scars all down his left arm, the left side of his neck and jaw and his left ear. It was only natural given the scars and his last name that the crew called him ‘Burn’. At least that’s what he told himself, convinced it had nothing to do with when he was an apprentice and used to burn everything he attempted to cook. Although his name didn’t inspire much trust in his cooking, he had earned the respect and admiration of the crew of the Razor. After years of study, experimentation, research and insisting on the best possible ingredients that could be found, Burn was able to produce meal after meal that not only satisfied the crew, but was as good a meal as you would get in any fief’s castle.
“Yeah, me too,” Mort answered and hefted the sack full of food. I think he means to tow the other ship most of the way back to Gallica. I just hope we keep enough distance so the plague doesn’t jump on board here.”
Burn agreed. He didn’t like the idea of dying with white pustules all over him and flat on his back in a sick bed. “Keep everyone off the deck except those you need to man the ship,” Burn suggested. “I’ll put out a notice that no one is to come to mess the next few days without having first washed his face and hands – with some o’ that lye soap. Maybe if we take some precautions none o’ us will catch it.”
“Good idea,” Mortimer agreed. “I’ll pass the idea along to Tony so he can back you up. Thanks for the chow. That kid looks like he’s more than three-fourths starved. Thank you, Lass, for bundling up the food.” Mortimer said to Cara and then bounded back up the gangway to the main deck leaving Burn staring after him thoughtfully.
The ship’s cook turned back to the galley and eyed his new apprentice. She was a tiny slip of a girl, about 13 years old and contrary to her species didn’t talk a lot. Maybe that was because she looked more like a boy than a girl. He frowned at her unruly red curly hair that was continuously slipping out of the leather thong that bound it behind her ears. So far no one had said anything about getting a hair in their food, but Burn was sure it was only a matter of time. “Mind your hair, Cara,” Burn said calmly. He wasn’t the type of mentor to yell and admonish his apprentice or try to place the fear of God in her. He felt that happy cooks were better cooks. His training techniques were softer and gentler than most Master Cooks and involved explaining things in a way she would remember. Most of the time he tried to make her reason things out on her own and only corrected her when he needed to. It was a far cry from the way he’d learned the basics of cooking – before the fire. His own cook mentor had ruled by fear and bravado and his cooking reflected his personality – all show and no substance. Afterwards he’d gone from place to place, serving in the kitchens until he’d learned all he could in that particular place. Then he would move on. Burn was self-taught for the most part and although he now cooked as well as any Master Chef in Araluen, he didn’t hold the title of ‘Master’ for he never had a master he was officially apprenticed to. He hoped Cara understood that by being his apprentice he was most likely dooming her to the same fate of cooking like a master but never holding the title.
He walked over and tasted the broth he was having her prepare. It was a chicken stock made from the stewed chicken they’d had for dinner last night. His plan was to drop eggs in it and serve it with fresh hot crispy noodles for breakfast. “Not bad…” he tasted it again and cocked his head sideways, noting that the stock was a little bland. It needed something more to pep it up. Perhaps a little bit of black pepper and some chives would do it. “Have you tasted it?” he asked Cara. “What do you think it is lacking?”
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a1ko4
Apprentice Cook
Posts: 77
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Post by a1ko4 on Aug 24, 2012 11:36:22 GMT -5
Cara stood nearby as the two men conversed. She was preparing some broth like Burn had said too. She didn't say anything, but all this talk of the plague alarmed her. She hoped it wasn't obvious how she felt.
"Thanks for the chow. That kid looks like he’s more than three-fourths starved. Thank you, Lass, for bundling up the food.”
"Your welcome," she murmured and tucked a curl of her red hair behind her ear. She was glad to help, she would hate it if that poor boy died. Though it seemed that all he needed was food. It sounded as though he wasn't sick from the plaque at all.
“Mind your hair, Cara,”
She nodded at Burn and retied the leather strip, catching most of the offending locks in the process, though most of them slipped out almost immediately. She'd have to find a clip or something.
He walked over and tasted the broth he was having her prepare. “Not bad…” he tasted it again and cocked his head sideways, noting that the stock was a little bland. It needed something more to pep it up. Perhaps a little bit of black pepper and some chives would do it.
Cara watched as Burn cocked his head after tasting the stock a second time. She was glad that he didn't think it was horrible, but she knew what he was thinking.
“Have you tasted it?” he asked Cara. “What do you think it is lacking?”
She nodded again. She was right. He had been thinking it was bland. She had too, but she wasn't sure what she should put in it to make it better. "It needs more flavor," she replied. Usually is someone implied that she had done something wrong her temper would take off, but she knew what Burn meant, so she didn't mind too much.
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Post by Ringulf on Sept 19, 2012 20:59:12 GMT -5
"Sail ho! two points nor' by nor' east of the starboard bow! Two merchants it looks like but they're might close!" A voice called from the fore crosstree.
"Glass Mister Corisan!" Boomed a deep voice.
"Right here Cap'n!" A tall, thin man rushed to the captains side.
The Captain was large and stout and had a red face. his beard cascaded over his barrel chest in a curly mass that was tied with little bows of thin, red ribbon.
He put the long ships spyglass to his eye and took in the scene.
"Helm! Haul around and put us on a course to cross their bow, Raise the...Celtican flag...yes that one will do nicely. make ready for a surprise boarding this might be our normal quarry, then again it may not so mind your manners till I say the word. And shut the mouths of those other wretches below." Said the burly commander.
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Post by Brandwyn on Sept 22, 2012 17:10:55 GMT -5
Arrow was looking toward the south and wondering how he was going to avoid catching the plague once they got to Araluen. He was also wondering how Ranger Albion was. Was his old mentor still alive?
Something on the horizon flashed with reflected sunlight and he squinted in that direction trying to make out what it was. “Captain…” he strained his eyes and could just make out a ship on the horizon, but he never finished hailing Tony.
“Sail ho! South by south-west,” shouted the lookout.
Tony was already looking, having seen the flash just as Arrow had. Something in the rigging of the ship was catching the sunlight. Tony trained his glass on the other ship in time to see the Celtican flag come to a rest at the top of the mast. “So you are playing that game too, are you?” Tony muttered as he lowered his telescope. “Sound general quarters but do it quietly!” He ordered. “I want all able bodies on deck with weapons in hand, but I want them to stay out of sight until I give the word.”
Mortimer nodded and relayed the orders, sending a man down below decks to rouse those who were sleeping. “You two Swabbies,” Mortimer pointed at two young sailors that had been swabbing the deck, “Get a sharp axe and be ready to cut those ropes connecting us to the Swan when I give the word, but don’t make it look like you are waiting to cut the ropes. We don’t want them figuring out we suspect anything until we’re ready.”
“What’s going on?” Called Jonathan from the other ship. “What are ya doing?”
Mortimer glanced up at Tony and received a brief nod of acknowledgement from his Captain so he moved a bit closer to the stern so he could talk to the boy. He turned so his back was to the south just to make sure if someone from the other ship were looking at him through a spyglass they wouldn’t see him talking to anyone. “There’s a ship on the horizon – don’t look!” Mort admonished him when he started to crane his head all around. “They might be up to no good, or they might be legit, but its best to assume their trouble and apologize later than be caught unawares.”
Jonathan nodded, “So what should I do?”
“Hide – hide real good and take that bag of food with you. Don’t come out until you hear my voice.” Mortimer answered. “If things go wrong, you get in the dingy and head into the rising sun. You’ll get to the Gallican coast in about a day and a half. Follow it north; keeping the sea to your left and you will come to a small fishing village about two days walk, depending on where you land the dingy.”
Jonathan nodded, a scared look in his eyes as he scooped up the sack of food and waterskin from the Razor. He crouched down and made his way to the back of the Flying Swan and tucked down into a void next to the aft anchor. The space was hardly big enough for a small boy, but he managed to squeeze into it and disappear from view. Mortimer doubted he would be found unless he made some noise, should the men on the other ship board the Swan and start looking.
Arrow motioned Orik closer and told him to be ready for battle, as if there was a moment when either of them weren’t ready for battle. He kept an eye on the approaching ship that had adjusted course towards them, but he kept Orik’s back to the ship so it looked like the two of them were just standing at the prow talking. “If it were me, I’d just cut that old tub loose and let those others have her and the boy,” Arrow scowled at Tony but kept his voice down so only Orik could hear him.
“I sure don’t want to fight anyone just to keep a plague ship,” Orik agreed, glancing back at the Swan. “That poor kid though, can you imagine being on this ship with everyone else dead? It’d give me the heebie jeebies.” Orik shuddered. Arrow thought that he could well imagine it and a shiver ran down his back but he didn’t answer.
The men from below decks silently filed up from the ladder and carefully spread themselves along the length of the Razor, crouching down below the railing so they wouldn’t be seen with their weapons in hand. Mortimer made his way back to the Captain. “They are ready to cut us free should we need to. You going to keep right on moving?”
Tony nodded, “I figure to. If they want to parlay they can match us. I wonder if we should just cut her loose and let that lot have her, plague and all.”
“The boy too?” Mortimer asked.
“No, they aren’t getting the boy. I’ll bring him aboard if I have to, but they aren’t getting him. By rights that ship belongs to him if everyone is really dead over there.” Tony mused as he studied the cargo ship they were towing. “I wonder what she’s got on board besides the dead?”
“I don’t like that look in your eye, Cap’n,” Mort said testily. “It always means bad news for me.”
Tony looked at his old friend innocently, “what look? Have I ever steered you wrong?”
Mortimer crossed his arms and just stared his Captain down for a full minute as the Celtican ship drew closer. Tony snorted and finally looked away, “Gee some people never forget…”
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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 7, 2012 15:04:51 GMT -5
“Have you tasted it?” he asked Cara. “What do you think it is lacking?”
She nodded again. She was right. He had been thinking it was bland. She had too, but she wasn't sure what she should put in it to make it better. "It needs more flavor," she replied. Usually is someone implied that she had done something wrong her temper would take off, but she knew what Burn meant, so she didn't mind too much.
“Good girl,” Burn nodded and smiled at her. “You’re right, the question now is, what can you add that will give it more flavor, eh?” He started rummaging through the spice rack hanging on the wall above the countertop. All of the spices were placed in little glass jars with waxed corked lids, even though when he purchased them, they normally came in linen pouches. Burn liked to keep the spices dry and found that the glass jars helped keep them fresh longer. “Most of the time if you have something that is lacking in flavor, you can add a bit of black pepper to it and that will put some zest into it without overpowering it.” Burn handed her the jar of pepper. “You don’t want to put too much in it though. With soup, if you are going to let it simmer for hours, then you just need a pinch or two at most for this size pot. However we are going to be eating this within the hour (I hope) and so I would suggest one extra pinch would be better.” Burn motioned for her to go ahead and administer the black pepper to the soup.
“Now that might be enough for the common man and for this lot o’lugheads here on the Razor, except you got the officer’s to think of,” Burn contradicted himself. “The Cap’n, well, he’s highborn. He was a prince or Duke’s son or something like that, anyways he has been to feasts in the Royal Palace in Toscano. He has eaten some of the best food his Kingdom has to offer and he has a very discerning palette (that means he knows what tastes good and what’s a bunch of horse caca,)” Burn winked at her. “Mortimer, for him being rough and uncouth, has a sordid past as a courtier and spent many an afternoon fulfilling the noble ladies of Gallica every need which including many a lazy picnic.” Burn scratched his chin, “I don’t know where Ulrich hails from or anything about his background, but you can tell by looking at him that he has been around culture at some point. So what I am saying is, that you can settle to be just good enough to cook for these sailors and they will be satisfied, but if you really want to ‘cook’ and if you want people to rave about your food and gain the glory that goes with the reputation of being the best cook in the Seven Fleets, then you can’t settle for ‘good enough.’ You have to be exceptional.” Burn said emphatically and handed her the jar of dried chives and basil.
“Chives go a long way, so don’t you put more than 4 of those dried slices in there and only a pinch of the basil. The basil seems to bring out the flavor of the chicken for some reason.” Burn had labeled all the jars in Araluen, but a thought just occurred to him, “Cara, do you know how to read these labels?”
He would have to teach her to read if she didn’t know already. She was going to need to be able to read recipes as well as labels and to balance the logs when it came down to buying food and accounting for it to the Captain. “We’ll have to work on getting you started on your own cookbook. In it you will record the things I show and teach you, as well as recipes I think you should know and any you would like to include. It will be your diary and your apprentice log to prove that you have had training should you ever leave this ship or my care and strike out on your own or seek employment elsewhere.”
A loud creaking down below from the aft of the ship made Burn pause in his instruction. He grew concerned when the sound lasted for several minutes. “Cap’n is going to tear this ship apart if he ain't careful. Seems like he let the sails out, I think we are moving faster. Let’s go see what’s going on up there.” Burn suggested. “You have the coals spread out down below so it can simmer, right?” Burn had already shown her how to pile up the coals on the grating to create more intense heating pockets on the stove and how to spread them out to make it a bit cooler when they needed things to cook slowly. He wanted to make sure the pot was secure while they poked their heads on deck for a quick look.
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Post by Ringulf on Oct 7, 2012 16:11:28 GMT -5
"Ahoy there! Ship ahoy!" shouted the burly captain through the large brass hailing trumpet so that those on the razor could hear his already powerful vioce a bit better.
"What news and where are yee bound? We are the "Percheron" out of Celtica just came off patrol on the east coast of Araluen aiding ships along that coast, Your tow...any problems? souls lost? can we render assistance as is our duty?"
"They name me Cap'n Grizzly, don't know if it's cause I am ugly or I remind em of a bear, but I was born Sterling Swiftshore of Highcliff, and you be?"
"We have been aiding many ships along the eastern coast of Araluen with crews and passengers what have the plague an is not makin port, seems once they get out on the open sea the sickness excelerates due to tight quarters. We have relief for anyone what has the symptoms an been dispatched as a mercy ship by the king of Celtica!"
Captain Grizzly lowered the trumpet and cocked an ear for a reply.
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Post by Brandwyn on Oct 25, 2012 21:50:38 GMT -5
Tony always got a bit nervous whenever they ran across another ship out to sea, but he was especially nervous in these particular waters because he never knew if he was going to run into a friendly ship or someone that was out to collect a bounty on pirates or him in particular. He never trusted the flag that was flying, because other captains pulled the same trick as he all the time; they ran up whatever flag suited them at the time. This was one of those times, so he was especially leery after having seen the Celtican flag come to a rest at the top of the mast. He looked back over his own ship and saw the men were in place and they could cut themselves free of the Swan whenever he gave the order.
"Ahoy there! Ship ahoy!" shouted the burly captain through the large brass hailing trumpet so that those on the razor could hear his already powerful voice a bit better.
"What news and where are yee bound? We are the "Percheron" out of Celtica just came off patrol on the east coast of Araluen aiding ships along that coast, Your tow...any problems? Souls lost? Can we render assistance as is our duty?"
"They name me Cap'n Grizzly, don't know if it's cause I am ugly or I remind em of a bear, but I was born Sterling Swiftshore of Highcliff, and you be?"
“Friend of yours, Boy?” Tony muttered to Arrow who had moved closer to hear the exchange.
Arrow snorted but didn’t dignify the jibe with an answer. He just set an arrow on his string and fingered the fletching.
”Allo Percheron,” Tony yelled back. He was going to have to give the ship’s real name, since it was painted on the hull. “You’ve found the Krackatowan Razor and the Flying Swan. I am Captain Antonio di Cortona out of Gallica on a mission for Araluen.” It never hurt to throw in a few allies with Celtica, just in case they really were from Celtica, Tony thought. He would save answering all the other Captain’s questions until he knew a bit more about him.
"We have been aiding many ships along the eastern coast of Araluen with crews and passengers what have the plague an is not makin port, seems once they get out on the open sea the sickness accelerates due to tight quarters. We have relief for anyone what has the symptoms an been dispatched as a mercy ship by the king of Celtica!"
‘Hmmm, I wonder what that aid really is…’ Tony thought and contemplated a reply, letting the ships get a bit closer. Should he tell them about the boy? With no survivors, the ship would be salvageable and he would have the greater claim having found it first and with it being an Araluen ship and he flying the Araluen flag, the Celtican ship would have no claim really. But if they found the boy hiding on the ship there could be trouble…or he could just hand over the ship and continue on with his own mission and still make his tight timetable and not have to deal with the plague ship. Let the boy work out his own problems.
Although Tony was a pirate by trade, he wasn’t necessarily a pirate in his heart. Technically The Flying Swan belonged to the boy as the lone survivor and who knows what this Captain would do to the lad if Tony handed him over. One thing Tony couldn’t abide was slavers and there was something Tony couldn’t put his finger on that didn’t feel quite right about this situation. Perhaps it was the fact this ship just happened to show up looking for lost Araluen ships. Tony wondered just why the King of Celtica would care enough to send out aid to Araluen’s ships. It didn’t quite add up and that made Tony uneasy.
“I am afraid you are a bit too late for the Flying Swan’s crew.” Tony called back, “It seems most everyone is already dead of the plague. We were just towing her back to Gallica since it is closer. I believe we have it under control and there is no need for assistance, but we thank you and your kind King for the offer of aid.”
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Post by Ringulf on Oct 26, 2012 11:01:20 GMT -5
“I am afraid you are a bit too late for the Flying Swan’s crew.” Tony called back, “It seems most everyone is already dead of the plague. We were just towing her back to Gallica since it is closer. I believe we have it under control and there is no need for assistance, but we thank you and your kind King for the offer of aid.”
"None Alive ye say...that is a shame as we have an antidote that has been workin' most of the time and keeps those what might have it from spreadin. but we are not interested in the ship itself only the souls aboard so if you need no further assistance we will leave ye with our blessins!"
The captain turned to the crew.
"All right stand down, nothin for us here mates, bring her around and put her on a course toward northern Araluen."
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a1ko4
Apprentice Cook
Posts: 77
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Post by a1ko4 on Nov 6, 2012 17:53:03 GMT -5
“Good girl,” Burn nodded and smiled at her. “You’re right, the question now is, what can you add that will give it more flavor, eh?” He started rummaging through the spice rack hanging on the wall above the countertop. All of the spices were placed in little glass jars with waxed corked lids. “Most of the time if you have something that is lacking in flavor, you can add a bit of black pepper to it and that will put some zest into it without overpowering it.” Burn handed her the jar of pepper.
Cara took the pepper and nodded to show she had understood.
“You don’t want to put too much in it though. With soup, if you are going to let it simmer for hours, then you just need a pinch or two at most for this size pot. However we are going to be eating this within the hour (I hope) and so I would suggest one extra pinch would be better.” Burn motioned for her to go ahead and administer the black pepper to the soup.
Cara nodded again and turned to the soup. She carefully took a few pinches from the jar and dropped them into the stew.
“Now that might be enough for the common man and for this lot o’lugheads here on the Razor, except you got the officer’s to think of,” Burn contradicted himself. “The Cap’n, well, he’s highborn. He was a prince or Duke’s son or something like that, anyways he has been to feasts in the Royal Palace in Toscano. He has eaten some of the best food his Kingdom has to offer and he has a very discerning palette (that means he knows what tastes good and what’s a bunch of horse caca,)” Burn winked at her. “Mortimer, for him being rough and uncouth, has a sordid past as a courtier and spent many an afternoon fulfilling the noble ladies of Gallica every need which including many a lazy picnic.” Burn scratched his chin, “I don’t know where Ulrich hails from or anything about his background, but you can tell by looking at him that he has been around culture at some point. So what I am saying is, that you can settle to be just good enough to cook for these sailors and they will be satisfied, but if you really want to ‘cook’ and if you want people to rave about your food and gain the glory that goes with the reputation of being the best cook in the Seven Fleets, then you can’t settle for ‘good enough.’ You have to be exceptional.” Burn said emphatically and handed her the jar of dried chives and basil.
Cara nodded again, hoping she could remember all this. She never realized that it was so important to know the people you were serving. She took the two jars.
“Chives go a long way, so don’t you put more than 4 of those dried slices in there and only a pinch of the basil. The basil seems to bring out the flavor of the chicken for some reason.”
Cara nodded and added the ingredients. She hoped that she hadn't done anything wrong and that the soup would taste alright.
Burn had labeled all the jars in Araluen, but a thought just occurred to him, “Cara, do you know how to read these labels?”
Cara bit her lip, wishing that Burn hadn't asked her, "No, I never had the time," she almost felt stupid when she answered. Of course she would need to be able to read! Would Burn teach her? Or would she not be able to be his apprentice anymore?
“We’ll have to work on getting you started on your own cookbook. In it you will record the things I show and teach you, as well as recipes I think you should know and any you would like to include. It will be your diary and your apprentice log to prove that you have had training should you ever leave this ship or my care and strike out on your own or seek employment elsewhere.”
Cara nodded, she didn't know how to write either. She sighed inwardly.
A loud creaking down below from the aft of the ship made Burn pause in his instruction. “Cap’n is going to tear this ship apart if he ain't careful. Seems like he let the sails out, I think we are moving faster. Let’s go see what’s going on up there.” Burn suggested. “You have the coals spread out down below so it can simmer, right?”
"Yes." Burn had showed her how before she had started. She wondered what was going on outside.
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Post by Brandwyn on Jun 26, 2013 19:04:09 GMT -5
Burn had labeled all the jars in Araluen, but a thought just occurred to him, “Cara, do you know how to read these labels?”
Cara bit her lip, wishing that Burn hadn't asked her, "No, I never had the time," she almost felt stupid when she answered. Of course she would need to be able to read! Would Burn teach her? Or would she not be able to be his apprentice anymore?
“We’ll have to work on getting you started on your own cookbook. In it you will record the things I show and teach you, as well as recipes I think you should know and any you would like to include. It will be your diary and your apprentice log to prove that you have had training should you ever leave this ship or my care and strike out on your own or seek employment elsewhere.”
Cara nodded, she didn't know how to write either. She sighed inwardly.
"Well that's fine. We'll get you up and reading in no time," Burn winked at her with a smile, "writing too." He led her up the ladder and slowly poked his head out as he added, "We'll start on your first lesson right after supper is cleaned up tonight."
Burn eased out onto the deck and noticed the deck hands crouched with weapons at the ready. He stepped aside to give Cara room and glanced at the ship they were towing and shook his head. It was earily quiet except for the waves breaking across its bow. Then Burn saw the Celtican ship just as it was pulling about and studied it curiously.
"What's going on?" he asked Mort who was standing nearby looking tense.
"That was supposedly a ship out of Celtica with a cure for the plague," Mortimer answered. "That seemed all too easy though. They just offered to help and when Cap'n turned it down they just said 'okay, fine' and turned their ship about." Mortimer mused and glanced at Tony who was surveying the surrounding waters as if he was expecting another ship to materialize out of the sea.
"Hmmm..." Burn murmered thoughtfully. "Bet he doubles the watch tonight."
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