When the Coast's not Clear

[Tobias Stalt]

Wind battered Tobias with salty spray as he stood at the bow, eyes set on the horizon. "Stalt," came the groggy voice of his boatswain, "we've put the Alerian coastline to our backs, and a night's sail has taken it from sight." The mercenary merely nodded his approval, and the man added, "a quarter turn will carry us back to Raiaera in two days time, by our map."

"You have my blessing," Tobias laughed, one hand gripped tightly around the rigging. "I swear, this honorary captain shit makes you think I'm some kind of Sailor."

"You're the only one of us who's served active in a military," came the uncertain reply. Tobias gave a helpless shrug in response.

"Not a sailor?" came a squeaky voice from behind them, and Tobias rounded on Rayleigh with an accusing finger.

"Miss Aston! Good morning!" he half shouted, "boatswain! If you would, kindly teach the lady how to secure the rigging? I hear storms like the sneak up on sailors at sea. It'd be nice if she had the skill." Stalt shot the girl a wry smirk, though her face twisted into a mask of terror.

"Rigging?" she mouthed weakly.

"You wanted to learn to survive," he whispered, a step closer to her now. "While you're on this ship, you're one of her crew. Everything they do, you do. It all starts to bleed together after a while. Two days from now, your arms are going to be ten times stronger."

"Thanks," she muttered glumly.

"Now, then!" Tobias snapped his fingers and headed for the helm. "I have a few duties to attend myself..."

[Rayleigh]

Rough seas, back-breaking work, and foul-smelling men muttering crude comments whenever they moved within range of the girl; it was the perfect recipe for a long, difficult morning. Fortunately, one sailor noticed her struggles after less than an hour. Though they lacked the softness of a woman who had never seen work, her hands were not calloused by the rough ropes she was made to pull. Her small frame bore none of the required muscle for the job she tended to, and in no time at all, her face was twisted in pain and drenched with sweat.

"Go on, lass," he muttered, moving up behind her. "There's deck that needs cleaning on the other side of them barrels." His large body gently bumped Rayleigh aside, his arms snaking up to easily corall the rope. When she went to reply, the nameless man shook his head. In a voice that barely carried over the whipping wind and shouting sailors, he added, "t'will be our secret, eh?" She nodded, exchanging a tired smile for a much less grueling task before scurrying toward the waiting bucket and mop.

The ship's constant rising and falling left Rayleigh in a constant battle to stay on her feet. Each creak and groan of the wood beneath her threatened to throw her into the dark seas below, further convincing her that the deck of a ship was as close as any living man could come to being in Hell. Her stomach, empty save for the bread she had eaten the day before, rolled with the waves that crashed against the hull. Multiple times, she threw down her mop and raced to the ship's railing, bending over it to dry heave into the sea. The few men who witnessed her moments of weakness laughed, but she was far more focused on what felt like a battle for survival.

When she was not toppling over or emptying her stomach, the work Ray did was not difficult. It gave her time to reflect on what had happened in the cave, and the more she played the scene out in her mind, the angrier she grew. Gone was the paralyzing terror that had crippled her; all that remained in that moment, beneath the warm sun and among the flurry of activity, was rage. How could she have been so weak? How could she have allowed herself to be played like that, first a pawn of the Dark Elf, and then a victim of the demon? What will I do next time I find myself in that position?

The sound at Tobias' door was not so much a knock as a furious flurry of fists on the worn wood. The barrage stopped only when he yanked the door open, revealing the mousy woman he had left on the upper deck. He opened his mouth to question her, but she did not give him the chance to speak.

"Stalt," she began, voice as hard as the expression she wore, "I need you to teach me to fight."

[Philomel]

Name of Judgement: When the Coast's Not Clear
Type of Judgement: No Judgement
Participants: Rayleigh and Tobias Stalt

Rewards:

Rayleigh receives:
620 EXP
70 GP

Tobias Stalt receives:
795 EXP
70 GP

[Rayleigh]

All EXP and GP have been added.