no man's sea

[groundrules]

Avast ye — sprawling til 18 June is part I of the Storm at Sea travel arc, which doubles as a test drive. Participants don’t need an invite to reserve or apply over 10-17 June.

Try to label if you’re a test drive tourist or an old timer — and don’t hesitate to leave an OOC note to opt out of random NPC piraaaaaaaargh interaction. Test drivers can post both log and network prompts. Have fun!

NO MAN’S SEA

---

DEEP WATERS | SON OF A BISCUIT EATER | MOLLYWICK | | THE CROSSING | NOTES

Image source.

AHOY! SCALLYWAGS

Departing Ke-Waihu, the existing party joins paranoid pirate king, turned stalwart saint Samuel Vane — the feared Quicksilver Sam — aboard the Pariah.

Test drivers awaken anguishing at sea, floating on rafts, or on minuscule patches of deserted land. They are collected by two pirates and the recalcitrant sorceress Karsa — who supplies translation and communication devices. She explains the newcomers were summoned into the land of Akhuras by warring undead factions. Karsa’s master, the elusive Merchant, ferries newcomers east to beacons hoped to return them home. He has secured them passage on the pirate vessel Queen Zanyra of ’Wet Rope’ Caladan Kreil, an associate of Quicksilver Sam.

The Pariah and Zanyra meet at sea, a day’s travel away from Ke-Waihu:

■ Characters overhear that Quicksilver Sam seeks to reach the haunted Crossing Seas and ‘settle an old score.’ Long-term ally Caladan Kreil supports his cause.

■ The two vessels make daily supply and crew exchanges by rowboat. The Pariah’s passengers must give the passcode: flaunted like gold to board the Queen Zanyra. Staff of the Queen Zanyra must speak the words before the blind man to access the Pariah. Forget your passcode and fall at the mercy of whoever patrols the decks!

■ Tasks await all passengers: diligently clean and polish decks, climb tall masts to sew torn sails, banish a preposterous number of seagulls, fish, read post or… dubious novels to sailors, count loot, guard the decks, clean cannons or serve as boat lure for shark fishing. Medics and cooks can practise their natural trades, while musicians and entertainers should amuse the crew.

■ By all means, grab thematic garments from crew coffers. Also available: daggers, swords and rare pistols.

■ Characters may notice both ship crews are spirited, but grow weary when Quicksilver Sam fitfully orders his five on-call priests to carry out protection rites, or to ‘exorcise’ evil from random staff — through ineffective bitter potions, shrill chants and requests to sit in unusual luck-incurring poses, or to commit some mundane, repetitive task. Let’s bore the devil away.

■ Treat senior crew with respect: some pirates are equally drunk on rum and fleetingly authority and reward perceived slights with a 24h-stay in the brig. These fine accommodations fit two and annul powers while there. No dinner.


■ Sleep where you can: hammocks and rotting mattresses can be found in great common halls beneath decks. The sick and women (naturally, ill omens at sea) can share the four private cabins of each ship. Sumeragi Subaru has his own cabin aboard the Pariah.

■ Each night, expect drinking beneath the halls and a pirate’s greatest hobby: gambling. Conmen might lure you into an ‘innocent game’ that sinks you deep into debt, winning your valuables, favours, or kidney!

■ Ladies are afforded a wide, begrudging berth and some authority over the crew.

■ Accommodations: fresh potions are readily available to ward off sea sickness, and magically resilient oranges are on hand to counter scurvy. As woe would have it, the long-serving Mr. Ishmael has passed, and his earthly remains have been retained aboard the Pariah for Kaneki Ken. Viktor receives a leashed emotional support albatross — a large, loud but docile bird that flies above him counter-current to balance him, whenever the ship’s sway threatens his footing.

OBJECTIVES

■ Discover why good Quicksilver Sam is intent on his haunted travels. The captain declines audiences, but try to get information from the two crews.

■ Please share the information gained via network…!

Image source.

THAT SON OF A BISCUIT EATER

Trouble starts to brew, within days at sea:

■ Be on the lookout while on watch duty: on a handful of occasions, new faces appear aboard. They fail to offer the passcode — and attempt to injure characters, throw them overboard, or to enter the captains’ lodgings. Sound the alarm or seize intruders!

■ After interrogating an infiltrator, Caladan Kreil sends word that the assailants hail from the Concord, a war vessel of the Dawns’ Reach Trade Company that is pursuing the pirate ships at distance under the command of Maximilian Hawk. A credit to his name, Wet Rope Caladan has the spy hanged.

■ Prepare to get drafted for double watch duty, as both Caladan Kreil and Quicksilver Sam bolster defences. Tensions escalate, with pirate crew questioning the loyalties of newer recruits.

■ A few days later, at dawns, the silent, swift and massive Concord approaches close enough to fire its cannons at both ships and send vicious militia to climb aboard. Defend your ship!

■ The Concord withdraws by midday, after lightly damaging its opponents. Help with repairs and enjoy some rum — you’ve survived your first sea scuffle!

Image source.

MOLLYWICK

Just short of entering the Crossing, where the seas are dark and highly opaque, the Queen Zanyra and Pariah encounter a stretch of vibrant, lushly forested land.

■ Both vessels send crew over for a few hours, with captains urging quick incursions. Pair up to collect berries, scant mushrooms and sweet water. Curiously, no animals are found.

■ Veteran sailors say this is the Neverflight isle of myth, where sea kings have buried their treasures. Pirates share legendary coordinates of long lost loot, archived as riddles or poems. Grab a shovel and a-digging you go!

■ …ah, but don’t linger too long. What pranksters your sailor friends are. Within hours of the island’s appearance, the earth beneath your feet crumbles and quakes, and the land starts to sink. Evacuate or call for help to get out of here — as the great white whale Mollywick submerges in the waters with the Neverflight island it carries on its back. Hopefully, you don’t go under with them.

■ If you’ve threaded out a treasure dig, drop a line to receive some especially deplorable loot. You deserve it.

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THE CROSSING

The Pariah and Queen Zanyra — frequently chained together to avoid separation — creep into the Crossing : a stretch of eerily silent waters, dark and volatile.

■

■ Slowly, a thick, nearly impregnable fog dawns during the day, covering the sun and leaving the skies a desolate slate. Dreadful storms spark at night.

■ Strange, talking carps jump on board, offering to tell you your future. Caution: they only make bad luck readings (request yours) that turn true. They appear wherever their target flees and are exceptionally annoying, until either the moon rises, or you apply the superstitious cure of throwing salt on them.

■ Nightmares haunt you — your own, or glimpsed memories of ships crashing, sinking, falling to storm. Note: only your character suffers these memories/nightmares, but everyone else can experience their exhausted grumpiness, come morning.

■ Be wary, when pairing to cross over to the other pirate ship: you may find another rowboat beside yours, its sailor begging for an oar or ladle. If you give him one, he shovels water into your boat with inhuman speed — desert your vessel and swim quickly to a pirate ship, before undead hands pull you into the sea.

■ While alone on deck, characters might hear sweet, coaxing voices that urge them to walk the plank into the water. Break your brethren from this spell, or watch them fall into the arms of man-eating mermaids.

■ Now and then, the ships are shaken by long, whips of something lashing from the depths.

■ Pirates become increasingly skittish and on edge. Priests perform countless protection rites and exorcisms on both ships.

■ At night, a handful of undead men climb aboard. They lack awareness and are in a clear state of discomposure, looking to catch the living and drown them. With toothless, rotting mouths, some rasp, This is kinder.

■ As you officially enter the Crossing, beams of light erupt in the horizon, showing the distant silhouettes of several ghost ships.

Image source.

NOTES

TEST DRIVE QUESTIONS

OLD-TIMER QUESTIONS

Comments

[traaaaaash]

pls

[groundrules]

☾ "Eeeedddddaaaaaaaaa. Each time you cross the deeeeeeeecks Yooouuuuu willlllll be stabbbbbbed by Spliiiiiiinteeeeeeeeeeeeers." ☽

scallywags

[sansdoute]

( Captain Kreil is a frequent, if distant apparition on his own ship, like a merchant consumed by obsessive regard of his own wares. He walks the decks, trails his fingers where dust drags out empire, verbally applaud men who execute their orders and takes tally of belongings and crew.

His. A world, his own.

Little eludes him. Less would presume to. A young man — straggling, bereft of rest opportunity when Caladan's indications that their new inherited passengers be treated fairly is... an unpleasant sight. He corrects it, sidling near, to nod where the cabins sleep within proximate distance.

Only a few steps more, little trinket. )

I believe, you are best positioned in a bed there, my little friend.

scallywags

[sansdoute]

( He's got the voice, the lad, the angels' own song burst of his young mouth to bring the true lush words of the great poem The Spirited Wife of Eight Men to life.

Truly, the legions of sailors have rallied below deck and they don't be heavin'im, good Lord gave'im the blessed spirit, and they pass him one book and the next, each more tattered and bruised. Gots them the coin for more, but what use, if there ain't no guarantee for a reader?

So, they make the boy read the same trinket once, once and again and the fifth time over, and you ask second-mate Mr. Eames, he only puts more soul into it at each turn. )

That part... always be makin' grown men cry.

[sansdoute]

You lissssssssss'nnnnnnnn here. ( There's a sad beginning and no end to a drawl, smooth like a cat's licking. Worked hard to achieve it, did our man Eames, and won't be having no stranger question his craft. ) You listen'ere, yeah? Booooooooooys. He be listening.

( Grunts and heaving and the rare rum-addled salute from yonder back, where a gallery of bored sailors has now assembled, partly to watch the second mate put the discipline in man, partly to gawk at this frightening failure of... swabbing.

Mercy's a fair mistress, and Mr. Eames was a handsome lad once, also. He holds out his hand, landing it on the man's. )

You leave it soft. Grace o' God, I'll show ye, how it be done.

[sansdoute]

( Is a good biscuit, this, honest and true. Bit stale around'em edges, where the good God lent a watering, but if He sends the wave, and the wave be wrathful, and the beautiful Zanyra, she's washed at the legs, and that's where'em provisions be holding — well, you ask Mr. Eames, not much helping a world where each does what each wants.

And Mr. Eames, he be wantin'his biscuit. Chomping. Grazing. Moaning with the sheer enjoyment of a man watched. Aye, but he's devouring it slow. )

You be looking smug like a kettle fresh sprung tea, ain't nothing wrong with ye. Run yer mouth, we treated you fair, fair'n'honest, is us, is lads of the sea.

[sansdoute]

I expect the good — ( And yet even he flinches to finish the word. ) Man is greatly overcome by the sincerity of his guilt.

( Because this has been the overwhelming merit of the men that crowd this ship like sardines bursting out of the can, Mr. Briggs has found: sincerity. Kindness. Orderliness. All virtues never lost at sea.

Ah, but he's become embittered, he supposes. No rest for him, not for the wicked. )

To think, he has failed in his one humble duty of providing for thieves. That is, rest assured, what you are, in deed and in character.

[sansdoute]

( Someone had to do it. As if he doesn't employ a great wealth of (dis)honest men, perfectly equal to whatever task the Pariah sets before them. A good ship, she. Sturdy. Strong. At hard wind, she barely flinches. )

I have never walked a better man. ( This, with dry lips and eyes sunken, and a look to him of deep-dug pallor. ) Come down. This is a good ship, fairer than her sister passed. We don't want you on your conscience.

( Great old fall that this would be from the mast, and she a woman fair and frail, by the looks of her. And suppose Samuel Vane never learned at a fancy school with virtuous gentlemen, but he knows the women they keep, he knows how she'd fit among them. How they'd all crumble down. )

[sansdoute]

( This much, he doesn't care to disagree with, a hard if amused chuckle leaving his soured mouth. )

I think I would prefer no foreigner, foolhardy of otherwise, owed a burial on our ship.

( It creates all matters of great and forlorn liability, all sorts of proceedings, of writ and the spoken word, and processes that on land might seem equal to efficient task. But at sea, the matter of death is one of jurisdiction, of legal quandary and of enormous and stupefying pain in Master Briggs' derriere. )

I would remind you, lad, that you are a guest here, and as such should comport yourself with great docility and dignity.

( Now stay off his sail. )

[balancedwire]

I have no plans to die on this ship or otherwise.

[ If poison didn't kill him and what they'd been through hadn't, the ship wouldn't. He wasn't afraid of heights or worried about dying. Just as he knows if anyone comes to attack him then he has his martial arts to fall back on.

He gives Briggs a bit of a bow. ]

Dignity, I can give you.

[ Docility will depend on the person who he's dealing with at the time. ]

[chosenbylight]

do your worst

[groundrules]

☾ "Aaaaaannnnduuuuiiiiiin. ThroughOOoOOoOooUuut your jooouuuurnneeeeey Yooooouuuuu will staaaAAaaaaAAAaaart Two smaaaaaaaaaaaall fiiiiiiiIIiiiires Annnnduiiiiiin, whhhhyyyy do you looooveeee Staaaartiiiing fiiiiiiiireeees?" ☽

[sansdoute]

We are not brigands here, lad.

( But he is sufficiently pleased with the proper greeting that he casts his hand in a loose wave, releasing the young man from his bow. Very well, perhaps it was only fleeting madness that possessed him to make such indecorous sport of himself on the sails. )

Here, we're a respectable — ( And here allow him a modest flinch, while a sailor below deck screams perhaps truly intended murder over his loss at dice. ) Outfit.

( Right you are. ) Whilst you are with the Queen Zanyra, you are obliged to understand our esteemed Captain Kreil expects and commands respect. He is not a man to be trifled with.

[unas]

I can't figure out where we're sailing to if I'm in a cabin.

( someone, someone not being from earth, not having that human history, doesn't know their pirate lore, doesn't realise the omens and bad luck he believes in or that she brings from standing there )

Unless you want to save me the trouble?

[wooden_one]

[It wasn't that Mo Ran had never come to him with such a smile, only that it had been years since that last happened (outside, of course, when he was Xia Sini). That made this meeting all that more strange.

Could this really be Mo Ran? But then why was he so much taller? (Why was he happy to see Chu Wanning?) But if this were some trick why make all these obvious mistakes?

Immediately, he wants to be on guard.

But he's so weak to that grin and a part of him wanted that childlike affection he'd received in the past that a stupid, selfish part of him wanted to indulge in it.

The majority of him though, was still wary. Dreams that are too good are rarely ever real.]

...Mo Ran isn't this old.

[He says it still with the same frown. He does not say, 'Mo Ran would never be so happy to see me in a place he thought I wasn't' because it sounded too pathetic. He is also a little uncertain but that just translates into a deeper frown.]

Anduin Wrynn | Warcraft | Oldtimer (action or prose!)

[chosenbylight]

I. AYOY! SCALLYWAGS
Once they are on board the Pariah (which is still an ominous name, if Anduin has ever heard one), Anduin does not waste time in taking the pirates up on their offer of an outfit change. He has still mostly been wearing his court attire, having acquired a few new things here and there but the people he has encountered thus far have been in poor circumstances and he's felt guilty taking much. Here from these pirates, however...

He does his best to find something that doesn't look entirely out of place on him, as close to a Kul Tiran uniform as he can, but this isn't Azeroth, and these are pirates, so it's much more monochrome in style and far less of a uniform than an assemblage of pieces. He feels a bit like a king playing dress-up, which. In all fairness, is exactly the case.

This isn't Anduin's first sea voyage, nor the rest of the old-timers for that matter. That doesn't keep him from scanning the faces that pass him on deck (or below, in the cabins for that matter) for any signs of sea-sickness.

"How is the voyage treating you?" he asks, in greeting.

II. THE CROSSING
A."Aaaaaannnnduuuuiiiiiin.

ThroughOOoOOoOooUuut your jooouuuurnneeeeey

Yooooouuuuu will staaaAAaaaaAAAaaart

Two smaaaaaaaaaaaall fiiiiiiiIIiiiires

Annnnduiiiiiin, whhhhyyyy do you looooveeee

Staaaartiiiing fiiiiiiiireeees?"

Anduin has not had nearly enough sleep for this. Undead sailors, climbing aboard the ship at night. Some great behemoth of a creature, rocking the keel from underneath the water at random intervals. Perhaps they really have found themselves in Kul Tiras after all, he thinks to himself irritably, as he frowns down at his newest annoyance -- Vague prophecies from talking fish.

B. He really hasn't been sleeping well. Which isn't exactly anything new, but what with everything else they've had to endure and the fact that Anduin is not the sort of person to want to burden anyone with his troubles, he's feeling -- somewhat worn down. Not entirely on his guard, as he picks his way up to catch a breath of fresh air on deck one evening, on his own.

He should know better, he does know better. He has no doubt what Mathias Shaw would say, if he were here. Back at home, he'd hardly ever been allowed to go anywhere without a shadow, and he knows it's for good reason. Here and now, it does feel nice to catch a moment alone however. He isn't used to these communal living spaces they keep being forced into, and he just needs...

He's let his guard down, and that's when the voice comes. Soft, gentle words, carried over the sea air and straight into the darkest depths of his mind.

The ocean is peaceful. Quiet. You are tired, traveler. Come and rest.

Stiffly, Anduin straightens. Yes. He is tired. He has been tired for such a long time, if he is being honest with himself. The ocean does sound quite nice...

[draughtsman]

[Lucius has absolutely no idea what this man is saying. None whatsoever.

Oh, he understands the words perfectly on an individual basis. The long authoritative drawl this fellow has cultivated is impressively and exceptionally clear, and Lucius is extremely motivated to 'listen here'. Unfortunately, he must have hit his head when he was tossed overboard--maybe swallowed too much seawater--does he have another infected extremity he hadn't noticed?

He feels like he's listening through a filter, like trying to read in a dream, and no matter how much he wants to, he cannot make sense of this man's statements.

He jumps a bit when Mr. Eames sets a hand on his and freezes--like a spooked animal--but still no, he has not the faintest clue what he is saying. Lucius could not possibly look more lost and confused.]

So I...should or shouldn't leave it soft? I...don't know how to do that. The soft part?

[He gestures with his wooden finger at the whole...floor situation in front of him.]

Is it not...this? It's probably not this. Right, I will...keep...trying?

Faolan | The Bridei Chronicles | Tourist! (action or prose is fine!)

[reticence]

AHOY! SCALLYWAGS
Faolan takes to his situation as well as he can, which is to say with begrudging acceptance. He has at least been on sea voyages before, many times on the journey between Dalriada and the land of the Priteni, and these ships are not that unfamiliar with the vessels he has traveled on. Unfortunately, for the most part everything else is uncannily foreign. Even the crew, and the others he has found himself stranded here together with -- Karsa explained they are from another world, but it is more than that. There is so much here that Faolan has never seen before, and he gets the feeling, as he quietly observes the others aboard both ships, that is not entirely the case with most others.

Still, he does his part. And he secretly prides himself in being one of the only other outsiders canny enough with the lines to be allowed to help haul the ropes with the crew. He puts his head down and works without complaint, making certain not to stand out too far -- an admirable member of the crowd.

It is at night, when the crew is drinking and gambling and singing and entertaining, that Faolan doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

What does a guard dog do with himself when he has no one there to guard?

Wandering the deck with a mug of stew in hand, he spots someone else who seems to have made a similar escape as himself.

"Not enjoying the festivities?" he asks.

THAT SON OF A BISCUIT EATER
Faolan supposes that it says something -- a lot, really -- about himself, that when word spreads of the potential for conflict, he feels almost relieved to have something to break the monotony of the sea voyage.

He supposes that it was something of a selfish thought, especially understanding how unlikely it is that some of his fellow otherworlders are indeed prepared for such a combat. He is a spy, an assassin, among other things. He has been killing people for quite a long time now, and he is really quite good at it. There is a reason that people like him exist, and it is so that people like -- well, some of them, do not have to do such things.

Ah, well, he thinks, drawing his daggers at the first sound of cannon fire. It cannot be helped. He can do his best to keep them alive through this, provided they don't get themselves killed.

"Can you handle this?" he asks, as the ship rocks slightly under the boom of yet another bombardment.

THE CROSSING
This strange otherworld only seems to get stranger to Faolan. Not a very social man -- a hazard of the job, he tells himself -- when not on duty he has taken to spending most of his time up on deck, away from the majority of the passengers and crew. Down below, it is... Too much for him. Too many people, too much merriment. Someone has an instrument he does not know the name of and has taken to playing it in the evenings and that especially is too much for him, on these nights where he feels so entirely out of place. So lacking in purpose.

He will not allow himself to consider the idea that he might be lonely, for it is a foolish thought, and a man like himself cannot be afforded such emotions, but. He has been a tool, honed for a specific purpose, for the majority of his adult life. Without Bridei here -- which is a foolish thought, for of course he isn't, and for that he is grateful -- he does feel rather like a blade left to rust in the sun.

It is in the midst of these idlings that Faolan nearly, very nearly misses the sight of a man, climbing on board the ship. But of course that's ridiculous, because this vessel is actually quite large, and how in the name of the gods would they have gotten up here?

And then there comes another, and he realizes quite suddenly that there's something exceedingly wrong with the pair of them.

"This is kinder," the closest one rasps, swiping for Faolan, to which Faolan replies by drawing his dagger and stabbing the man in the chest.

It doesn't do a damned thing.

Faolan's eyes widen slightly, staring at his dagger protruding from the man for a second too long. Just long enough for the man to grab at him, with startling strength, and tackle him to the deck.

"Holy-- Over here!" Faolan calls, wrestling with the larger -- why does everyone seem to be larger than him here for that matter -- undead man. "A little help?!"

C

[somebadnews]

[ Violence just follows Five around these days. In the midst of blinking behind an intruder who was attempting to toss him overboard, he turns his head at the sound of a gun going off. With all the activity going on, he wonders if anyone else catches her blank expression. He's probably the only one who isn't surprised to see it.

His attention shifts back to slit the throat of the man who attacked him, using his own dagger no less, but Winnie's voice somehow cuts through the shouting around them. Once he's done, he comes over to frown at the body at her feet. It's good to see pirates don't discriminate against women and fake-children. ]

That happens when you put holes in them. [ Despite that, he sort of understands. He's never really liked being covered in blood after the fact, and his hands are already sticky from the last guy. He should say something else after all this time, but then he hears canons and sighs when he sees more men coming on board. ]

Sure you've got enough bullets?

[mypreciousworld]

[ he stiffens, bristles for a moment--- before letting that cursory guard down. it's the subtle air of authority, a newly familiar voice that has his shoulders lower and a coolness touch his brow. again, tenn is quite aware of what he probably looks like. what he seems like. a flower with drooping petals, a bird with ruffled and spread feathers? a glass ornament, seemingly fragile and easily shattered? ]

I'm sure others deserve them more than I do.

[ he may not be familiar with the superstitions of the sea, but tenn has seen the wariness given to the women on the boat. he's seen others worse off than him. his fragile constitution is, unfortunately, a constant and something he's been unwilling to work on--- despite his occupation.

tenn pulls himself away from the wall, taking one step... and then immediately crashes back into it. the ship isn't rocking, but he sure is. ]

[soulsrob]

[Winnie just nods as if that was a perfectly believable thing to say. If he's 'never walked better' he must've been truly gruesome before, obviously.

She moves carefully now, climbing down with her little sewing kit held in her teeth until she can jump down the little bit to the deck proper. She takes the kit in hand and smiles brightly at him]

As you say. I think it's a truly wonderful ship. Do you know how she came about? Did you win her in a game, or have her commissioned, or...? [She trails off, curious]

[soulsrob]

[Her gaze cuts to him, briefly sharp and guarded before she realizes who it is and relaxes. She smiles again, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and seeming ready to start fussing and cleaning up any blood on himself before they're interrupted.]

Oh, dear. [She sighs.] It never ends, does it. I'd really rather we all at down for tea, this is getting so tedious!

[murder, tedious. You know how it is. Winnie looks at Five for sympathy] And we have so much to catch up on, don't we? But my bullets should hold for a little while. And I've got a sword! I'm sure we could take down a couple together still. How long can they really keep this up?

[royal_venant]

Oh thank Merlin the man wasn't asking him to read the same thing a sixth time in a row.

Regulus was putting on an act, though, and if the crew demanded it again, he would do it. One night and day in that boat jail cell - he didn't know what you called it when it was on a boat - had planted a healthy fear in him. Do what the crew asked, or rather, find what something the crew wanted and that he was willing to compromise his aversion to work to do, and then do that, and stay out of that cell.

Right now, it meant reading this tawdry poem over and over again. Faster with more feeling.

And engaging with the audience meaningfully.

"How true," he said, pulling the words from a deep, manufactured well of sadness. "Sometimes, syphilis is a tragic, unavoidable fact of life." He shook his head slowly.

*on our conscience, wow

[sansdoute]

( No reason to bar the girl's passage, when she lands. He stands aside, affording her a wide berth, so she might arrive on deck without trouble or obstacle in sight.

At the last moment, he extends a hand, should she want it, when she raises herself to stand. A gentleman, by any other name. )

As her captain, would I not know how she came about?

( And this being his answer, eyes steeled, perhaps there's reason to suspect he withholds the details of the Pariah's origin for his own pleasure. )

She joined our family three years gone. She is a beauty.

[sansdoute]

( It is as if the gracious sky sends down its punishment for the young man's arrogance, and his footing loosens — enough so that Caladan reaches, extending a hand, snagging it on the boy's shoulder. There. For balance, until he recaptures his balance.

And softened, after: )

More of life is chance, than merit. Few are those who deserve what they have. ( Their health, their gold, their fortune. And yet they flaunt such things with formidable impunity. ) You're in the way, my friend. If you swoon.

( Kindly rescue composure, or see yourself in the cabin. )