“I know little about managing my owngold, let alone managing an entire community. We need others to join us if we want to pay the upkeep on the buildings. Every single month, the deed has a cost that we have to pay or the deed will revert and be purchasable on the market again.” He lamented, frustration creeping in. “What if I screw it up? What if the village fails and we have to find another home, this time without the money from Sawbones? We would be forever living in the wilds, never safe from the dangers.”
Priestess hopped down from the shelf, sitting beside him. She wrapped her tail around him the way a person might do so with their arm. “Sawbones believed in you. Sawbones chose you as our Champion and our leader, even before the invasion.” She wrapped his hand with both of hers and stared up at him. “You can do this. We, can do this.”
He threw his arm around her and squeezed. “You’re right. We can do this.”
“We have three weeks to think on it.” She said, letting go of his hand.
“Priestess, if you were choosing a new warren, what would you need to make your people comfortable and happy?” he asked.
She rested her hands on the thin mattress, swinging her tiny legs back and forth as they hung over the side of the bed. “It needs to be dark, cool, and have plenty of critters. Kobolds aren’t picky eaters, but we enjoy hunting and chasing prey. Preferably a cave, or tunnel, somewhere underground. We love the safety of the earth, of darkness but we are cold-blooded, so basking in the sun helps us maintain a good body temperature. Easy access to the surface would be very helpful, or at the very least, easy access to sunlight.”
She smiled. “Many days my clutch mates and I would go to the sun chamber and lounge around for hours, talking about many things while we absorbed the heat from the sunlight above.”
Skree nodded. “So I should look for an island with a cave system or something similar. Should be simple enough. Anything else we should look for?”
“Hm.” She twiddled her fingers as she pondered the question. “Clean water would be a plus.”
“That one’s obvious, don’t you think?” He asked.
“I don’t know. Just thinking out loud.” She said. “The real question I have is; what should we be doing for the next three weeks? That is a long time for the younglings to remain in a small chamber.”
“Been thinking about that. I think we can ask Fenna how best to contribute. She agreed to help me learn how to sail, which she laughed at. Her exact words were: What else are you going to do besides braid your hair and talk to a dog.” He recounted with a chuckle. “She has a cutting and dark sense of humor.”
“I would like to learn, if you think they will teach me.” She said.
Skree nodded. “Already ahead of you. When I mentioned teaching you, she said it would thrill her to teach you.” Priestess scowled, noticing he was struggling to keep a straight face.
“What did she really say?” she asked with a no-nonsense tone of voice.
Skree held up his hands in self-defense. “If you really want to know, just remember you asked before you kill me.” He leaned over and whispered it in her ear.
“WHAT! How dare she say anything about my coloring. I’ll have you know we consider crimson one of the most beautiful scale colorings a woman can have. That pale skinned harlot better watch her mouth.” She shrieked, hopping down from the bed. “Perhaps I will go show her how much of a rusty nail I am!”
Despite her anger he burst into laughter, throwing himself back onto the mattress and giggling at her outrage. She twisted and whacked him across the shins with her tail, causing him to yelp in pain. She hit him a few more times with the hardened appendage, leaving hot welts on his arms and sides.
“Okay, enough!” he said between fits of laughter. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed.”
“She better apologize or I will burn this rickety boat to ashes.” She said.
“I will let her know.” He said, still grinning. Priestess huffed and left the small berth, stomping back toward the hold.
“God, she is one scary lady.” He said, rubbing at the hot welts that were swelling on his arms.
Chapter 4
Hawkins was waiting for him on the deck. “Despite my reservations, Captain Lis has asked that I become your profession trainer. At her request, and only because she asked, I will teach you all there is to know about ships, sailing and how to become a captain someday. Are you positive you would like to become a sailor?”
At his question, a prompt appeared in Skree’s vision.
Hawkins has offered you a quest! Learning the Ropes, Part 1: Rigmarole
Description: Hawkins will teach you the profession: Sailor. Be aware, you may only have two active professions and any change will require you to repeat a profession quest with a trainer.
Rewards: Experience, Reputation with Hawkins
Failure: Hawkins will end your training, and you will lose reputation with Hawkins
Do you accept? Yes or No?
Skree selected yes and nodded.
“Okay, first lesson.” Hawkins said, standing beside the large center mast. “This is a ship. Not a boat. It is thirty tons of steel and oak, treated with the finest oils found anywhere in the seas.”
“I know the difference between a boat and a ship Hawkins.” Skree said.
“Really?” Hawkins asked. “Explain the difference.”
Skree looked around the massive ship, taking in the dozens of sails and the three large masts standing high above the deck. “It’s… bigger.” He said.
Hawkins groaned. “Yes, it is bigger than a boat. But is that the only difference?”
“Is it the masts? The sails?” he asked, still searching for the distinction.
“No. A boat is a something used to have fun, or short trips across the lake to impress your lady friends.” He explained. “A ship is everything that a boat is not. It carries dozens of men and women across calm and hostile seas, carries supplies to villages and weapons to armies. A ship is a home. A ship is your life. Without it, you cannot cross the sea, defend your home or honestly understand what it means to be free.” He gestured to the sails and the crew scurrying through the rigging and across the deck.
“Every man and woman aboard this ship depends on the Typhoon to provide for them, and the Typhoon depends on them to keep her afloat. It is a symbiotic relationship and both sides would surely perish without the other.” He paced back and forth, hands resting on the small of his back. “Now do you understand the difference?”
Skree didn’t, but he nodded his agreement, regardless.
“Now, the first lesson is that this is a ship. Used correctly, she is an unstoppable force of nature. Used carelessly and she will head to the bottom of the sea to meet Hakora, the God of chance and luck. If you intend to sail a ship, you better know all her parts. Sails, rigging, hoists, anchors, all of it.” Hawkins ceased his pacing, standing in front of his student. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Mr. Skree, if you do not learn the hundreds of parts on this ship, their standard uses and their less than standard uses, I will not teach you anything further, do you understand?”
Skree met his eyes, the flinty hard stare somehow dark in the bright morning sunlight.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Let’s begin. This is the Mizzen mast. It is the shortest mast on the ship, and the mast nearest the aft of the ship. We divide it into three sections. The Mizzen-Lower, as the name suggests, is the lowest part of the mast where it meets the deck. Further up is the Mizzen-Topmast, the section that holds the largest of the sails and the Mizzen-Topgallant, the highest point of the mast where the smaller sails are affixed.” Pointing out each section of the mast as he called them out. He made his way around the base, pointing out countless features, all the different pulleys and gears. He tugged on different ropes, explaining their purpose and making Skree repeat them as he went.
They spent the next several hours going over each of the masts from aft to fore, covering the unique purpose
of every inch of the rigging. It was informative; it was complex but most of all; it was horrifically boring. At first he had thought it was fun, happy to learn the finer points of a sailing ship. After the fifth hour of constant lecture, memorization and reciting it all back to Hawkins, Skree was feeling as frayed as a spinnaker sail. When the mess bell rang out, Skree nearly cried with joy. Hawkins glared at the bell, like it was interrupting his magnum opus.
“That’s enough for now, get on down to the mess and get something to eat. Be sure to drink plenty of water. We will meet back here in an hour.” He said.
Skree slumped at his statement. “Back here in an hour? Hawkins, how long are we going to spend learning this stuff?”
The glare Hawkins shot his way made Skree flinch. He looked like he would hit him. And hard.
“How long am I going to teach you?” he asked, teeth clenched in incredulity. “Until it's done. How long that takes, is completely up to you. Now go stuff your yapping hole and be back here in an hour. We will start over from the mizzen-mast.”
“Yes, sir.” He replied with less excitement than he had at the start. He shuffled toward the mess deck and made his way down the stairs, joining the line for his meal. The smell of a hearty stew wafted over and his stomach growled, drawing looks from the crew. He shrugged and several of them chuckled.
A scraggly bearded man in his mid-twenties sidled up to him, handing him a bowl. “Don’t mind them, they’re just interested in meeting the mystery man who saved our captain on that cursed island.” He held out a hand. “I’m Miller Jefferies by the way,but my friends call me Mills.”
“Skree.” He shook Mills’ hand with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you Mills. What do you do on the ship?”
“This and that, mostly I’m up in the crow’s nest with my spotters glass. Can get a bitboring up there, but hey, it’s a real important job.”
“So I’ve heard.” Skree said, recalling his earlier lessons.
“Yeah, I saw you with the First Mate earlier. You learning to sail?” Mills asked. “Wanting to join us on the high seas and a life of adventure?”
“Have to do something with my free time. Figured learning to sail would be an excellent pastime.”
Mills pounded him on the back. “Damn right it is. Learnin’ to sail is the best decision you will ever make.”
“Why is that?” he asked with a smile. Skree knew sailing could make for an exciting life, but the best decision he would ever make? He didn’t know if he believed that.
Mills threw an arm around Skree. Raising his voice, he asked the mess. “You hear that, boys? Mr. Skree here wants to know why learning to sail is that best decision a man can make.” The mess fell silent as all present turned to face them.
“A life aboard ship can be hard, but once you get used to it…” he waved a hand, pretending to look at some distant vista, “The sea and the sky are endless. Hopping from island to island, facing dangers unknown and claiming long lost treasures give a man the thrills he can’t find in the most expensive brothels in the world.” He explained, grabbing his crotch with a lecherous thrust.
The crew burst into a fit of laughter, hollering out “here, here!” and drinking from their mugs. “Sailing your ship through a mighty storm, riding waves a hundred feet high gives a man the kind thrills you won’t find hiding on the shores like a scared kitten.” He said, shouting over the din of laughter. The crew cheered their approval and Mills jumped onto a nearby table, knocking over several mugs as he skipped across the polished wood.
“Firing a full broadside at fat merchant vessel and claimin’ her as your prize gives a man the jubilation lords and ladies of the Central Kingdom will never feel.” He yelled, pounding at his chest with a performers charm. The mess erupted into a deafening roar as the crew pounded their fists against the tables and stomped their feet, roaring their agreement. With a flourish, Mills jumped to another table, this time kicking mugs and bowls out of the way as he went.
“The life of a sailor is one of freedom, of risk and reward, of danger and triumph. Every man aboard this ship is free to make his own way, find his own fortune.” He said in a sing-song cadence. He leapt from the table and marched up to Skree, grinning like a madman. “If he be brave enough to take it, am I right boys?” he bellowed, easily heard over the din of cheering sailors.
“Aye, aye!” came the answer. The cheers and shouts continued for a minute before the men settled back into a gentle rumble of conversation and chewing.
Mills threw his arm around Skree once again, leading him to the cook’s station, holding out his bowl. The fat old man behind the pot exchanged a glance with Mills, looking like he had seen this show one too many times.
“How many times do I have to tell you Mills? Stay off my tables.” The cook said, threatening the man with his ladle.
Mills returned the cooks angry glare with an exaggerated pout. “Ah come on Jury, we’re just having a bit offun with our guest here. No reason to be such a sourpuss.”
“Every time we get a new crew member you pull this crap and every time the crew pounds back the ale at midday. You know how angry the captain gets when the crew is drunk before sundown.” Jury said. “Won’t be no ale for the rest of the trip if they get too worked up.”
“Not to mention deck towel drills.” Mills added with a wink. Jury did not seem pleased at his remark.
Skree looked between the two men, wondering what they meant. “What are deck towel drills?”
Jury pointed over his shoulder, gesturing to the crew. “Oh, don’t you worry, you’re about to find out.” He said.
Chapter 5
Just as the words left Jury‘s mouth, a shout rang out, followed by a loud crash. Skree whirled to see two men locked in a struggle. The larger man had his opponent by the lapels and was dragging him across the table, sending dishes flying from the table. A bowl of stew hit the floor, sending the hot steaming liquid splashing across another man. He screamed in pain then glared at the man next to him who was laughing. Whether at the soup or the fight, Skree couldn’t tell.
It didn’t seem to matter to the stew covered man; he punched the laughing sailor in the face and tackled him from the bench. Chaos erupted throughout the mess as men and women argued, then brawls broke out everywhere. Fists were flying, along with cups, bowls and hot stew.
Skree looked behind him and saw that Mills was grinning ear to ear. “Just another fun day in the life of a pirate!” he said, dashing forward and joining the fray. Skree watched in horror as the crew pummeled each other with vigor, wondering why they would fight with each other. He looked at Jury with a questioning expression who just shrugged.
“Been at sea for nearly three months now, living in these tight quarters wears very thin, veryquickly.” Jury explained. “Duck.”
“Wha…” Skree said but was cutoff as the original two men collided into him without a care in the world. They sent him sprawling as the pair landed hard on the floor, punches still flying. Skree was struggling to regain his feet when a boot stomped onto his outstretched hand, sending a shock of pain up his arm. With a growl he found his feet, and seeing Mills struggling to break free from a headlock, he pulled the men apart.
Mills stumbled away, rubbing at his throat but the man who had wrapped him up glared at Skree with a mixture of anger and joy. Time seemed to slow as Skree watched him pull back his arm and deliver a punch that collided with his jaw, sending him stumbling backward to crash onto a table. Before he had time to process, the man was atop him, pulling his arm back for another punch. Skree shifted his weight at the last second, causing the man to slam his fist hard into the hard wooden table, hearing a crunch of bone as his hand broke against the solid surface.
He howled in pain, clutching at his crooked fingers. Skree put a boot in the man’s chest and pushed hard, sending the man flying to slam into a wall. He slumped into unconsciousness.
“Thanks for the assist!” Mills said, voice still raspy from his strangulation. “Looks like Sydney is sti
ll mad about losing the last fifteen hands of Min. Better look out!” he shouted before tackling Skree to the floor. Above him a large wooden box sailed by, crashing into a nearby support beam.
“What in the name of god is going on here!” Fenna snapped, voice cracking like a whip. The mess immediately settled into an eerie silence. Every member of the crew looked back and forth before turning deliberately to face Mills and Skree.
Jury spoke up then, “Captain, Mills here was just getting the crew excited for another wonderful day aboard the Typhoon.”
She pointed at Mills and Skree. “I expected as much from Mills, but you Skree? Barely on the ship a full day and we have our first tavern brawl.” She scanned the room, the heat in her gaze causing the crew to wither under her stare. “Docked pay for all crew present. You have fifteen minutes to clean this place up then I want you all topside for deck towels.”
A groan slipped from the lips of several crew members before Fenna’s head snapped in their direction, silencing any rebuttal. “Well, what are you waiting for? Clean up this mess.” She said with the promise of violence for any detractors, marching back up the stairs in a foul mood.
Promptly, the mood in the mess changed and everyone broke into motion with a practiced expertise. Every member of the crew moved with purpose, pulling out brooms and mops like a well-oiled machine. Skree looked to Mills who was still smiling like an idiot.
“Does this happen often?” Skree asked.
“Not often, but, we are pirates. A good old-fashioned dust up can’t be avoided sometimes. Welcome aboard the Typhoon mister Skree.” He said with a wink, then moved to clean up.
Twenty minutes later, everyone from the mess assembled on the top deck in a loose formation. Before them stood an angry Fenna and a fuming Hawkins. Beside them were several large wooden barrels.
“Listen up you miserable sacks of scat!” Hawkins barked. “Captain has some choice words for you.”
Fenna leaned on one of the nearby barrels, her hand malevolently stroking the banded iron rim. “Everyone here knows what deck toweling means, but today we have a new friend. Mr. Skree, take a bow.”
Raiya- Early Game Page 3
