What did they do with the drunken sailor that morning, anyway?

[Christoph]

Closed to Daggertail, Sherin, and Raziel.


The sun was setting over the sea, casting an odd purple glow in the cloudy sky and washing the surface of the water with light. A rickety wooden ship sailed through the river of gold, away from Corone and into the horizon. The combination of the constant rocking and creaking of the large, old, wooden cargo ship against the waves and the fresh, salty smell of the sea both delighted and nauseated Chris at once. He sighed happily as he strode along the edge of the deck and looked out onto to rolling, shifting hills of the dark water.

Indeed, this was far from being his first time out at sea; he’d sailed quite a bit since he’d left his home in Salvar to go on a year-long journey that had become far more than the quiet business venture that he’d expected. Between getting robbed a few times, zombies, being arrested during a Civil War, and fighting the Citadel, his tight schedule became the expensive drapes in a house full of cats. At any rate, he was on a ship yet again, heading home at long last. Even though he’d gotten used to sailing, there was still that period of nausea that he experienced for the first hour out at sea. He didn’t know if that was just another “weakness of the land” that would go away with time. Granted, he was far from worried about it. Once he got home, he told himself, he wouldn’t be sailing to foreign lands again for a very long time.

This particular voyage was by far the most pleasant, though. For the first time, the traveling chef wasn’t working in the galley to pay his way. Chris had some gold to spare, and passage on the old rickety ship was quite cheap. The disadvantage, of course, was that there were no refunds given if the floating coffin fell apart and sank during the trip. On that disconcerting note, turned away from sea and started for the door that lead down to the lower levels of the ship; particularly the mess hall. That was definitely a positive note. Safe or otherwise, the boat was large enough to actually have a mess hall – a mess hall attached to a galley that Chris did not have to work in. Life was good.

A pair of large masts, supporting large square sails that glowed gold in the dusk, occupied the deck of the ship. They were like the wings of an angel – an old, wrinkled angel with brittle bones and grey hair, anyway. The old angel’s skin was scarred with several warped patches that covered the deck, caused by years of poor maintenance. The railing was broken and rotten more than it was intact. The wooden crates of barrels, however, were all in immaculate condition. Many of the damaged areas were hastily patched over by planks of wood. The wooden crates of barrels, however, were all in immaculate condition. They were stacked in neatly in a perfectly symmetrical layout across the deck. Every one was strapped down. These served as islands of soundness among the shambles of the craft itself. Chris glanced around at all of this and sighed.

The food had better be fantastic…

Being as preoccupied as he was with daunting possibility of the vessel being swallowed by the sea as he stepped through the doorway, Chris didn’t even notice another man staggering though until they collided. The chef grunted with pain and irritation as his head banged against the stranger’s skull. He stumbled backwards and took a look at the offender. His skin was rather tanned and he seemed to be a sailor. And he appeared to be drunk. No, he was drunk.

Well, Chris thought, as he stood back up, at least I know that the liquor barrels are well stocked.

[Raziel]

“Raziel: experienced sailor, master navigator, and a responsible man of the sea, now for hire.” At least, that’s what his ad posters had said. That was how he’d ended up on the rickety ship. By a miraculous stroke of luck, the first mate of a large cargo vessel called “the Golden Mariner” decided to hire the well-advertised man as their new navigator. It turned out that their former navigator was thrown into jail for ‘inappropriate conduct in public’ – otherwise known as hitting on the wife of a Corone public official, or so the rumors said. This hardly mattered to the now-employed Raziel, of course. He had finally gotten his feet off of the dirty, unworthy land and back on a rocking ship where they belonged.

The Somme

Ah, my love it is good to be with you again.

The sailor leaned over the railing of the ship’s aft, wrapped up in the serenity of the sea. As usual, he was wearing his motley set of clothes consisting of a red tunic, leather pants, and his favorite bandana wrapped lopsided around his head. Raziel took a swig of the ale that had been distributed down in the mess hall – rather, the ale that he’d taken the liberty of distributing to himself – and smiled. He stared at the glimmering sparkles of the sun reflecting off the rolling water. As Raziel gazed upon the glistening diamonds on the waves, his eyes began to tear up. It was not because of the blinding light burning his retinas, of course, but rather because he was so happy to be back on the sea. Yes, Raziel was emotional… and also very, very drunk. “Woo-hoo!” Raziel pumped both fists in the air, startling the other passengers and managing to successfully spread frothy ale all over everything within ten feet of him. He perched the tin mug to eager his lips, only to find that its contents had magically gone empty.

“Hey! Who drank my drink?” Raziel screamed as he spun around, pointing an accusing finger at all of the other seafarers in sight, before pointing to his cup and then to his mouth. “Lousy crooks! The lot of ya!” The navigator stumbled back toward the doorway for the corridor that led to the mess hall. He proceeded to stumble down the steps two at a time, often missing the second step and falling for the next five, landing painfully on his ass. After the hair-raising journey down the Creaky Staircase of Doom, he spotted the signs pointing to the mess hall. He followed the arrows until he finally passed a large double door that opened into a crowded, noisy area… only to continue on right past it, rubbing his ass along the way.

“That’s strange. The arrows are pointing the other way on,” Raziel cocked an eyebrow and scratched his head, trying to make sense of where he was. Finally, he continued along his path, leading him farther and further from the mess hall.

“Stupid wrights, building such a long ship,” Raziel grumbled as he aimlessly navigated the lower level of the ship. He tried taking another sip of his ale. A few failed attempts followed before he looked down, only to find that it was still empty. “Hey! Who drank my ale?” He spun around again and started to walk backwards, scanning the small corridor for his suspect. The only thing he saw, and felt, however, was a sharp pain in his back and the world suddenly spinning even faster than before. After a few moments churning reality, his stabilizing gaze finally settling on a surprised, disgruntled, and curiously upside-down chef.

“Whoa mate… did not see you there!” The incredibly intoxicated sailor grabbed the chef by the shoulders, trying to steady the man as they both rose to their feet. Really, though, he was just trying to steady himself and stop the world from spinning. Neither objective was effectively achieved. The chef awkwardly brushed the navigator’s hands from his shoulders and backed away from the drunken Raziel very slowly.

“Its ok, I am going to find the bugger who stole my drink,” called Raziel, waving to the chef as he walked off as though they were old friends. With renewed vigor, the inebriated seaman sprinted through the doorway and past the chef. Immediately, the sunlight hit him like a brick to the face. He pulled the cup to his eyes for shade. “Why the hell is the mess hall outside?” He stamped his foot on the hollow deck and pouted drunkenly, waiting for someone to give him an answer.

[Daggertail]

It would have been a nice morning, if it wasn't for the odd looks and the one drunk aboard. Sometimes I don't know why I travel by sea, people don't like it that I'm a demon on a ship and sometimes they're even worse for me being a girl, as if being a girl on a ship was some kind of sin. Okay this wasn't too bad since the ship did carry other women but not other demons, ego only half the foul looks.

I had to find solace in the things that weren't people: the clear sky, the crisp air and the salty smell kept things pleasant if I just could ignore the people give strange looks and refusing to speak to me. They'd go about their business scrubbing the deck or fiddling with the ropes and take a break to stare so hard that they were hoping to push me overboard with their silent protest.

But I was tougher than that and simply laid down in the shade of the sail and watch the clouds go by with a fake smile to hopefully make them think I don't give a tails shake of a damn about what they think. It might have been easy to ignore them save for the man that was getting drunk and being very load.

"No one stole your drink, you spilt it all over the place!" I answered with an angry twitch of the tail as I moved to a sitting position. Weren't they supposed to put drunkards in a skiff that was tied to the ship until he sobered up?

[sherin]

Sherin was having a wonderful time wondering around the ship, this having been his very first time on a ship EVER, the experience was over all very pleasant. Sherin walked the rolling deck with ease, with Shensho guiding his next step as to be able to stay standing.

Sherin eventually wandered up onto the main deck of the ship, and quickly made his way to the railing of the ship to watch the spray of the surf on the ship, Sherin eventually became aware of the many people around him working and maintaining the ship, out of no where a drunk stumbled onto deck yelling incoherently.

Sherin couldn't help but smile at the drunk, he was so...interesting, but what was really interesting him was the little demon on board. Sherin meandered his way toward her, Shensho gave Sherin some knowledge about her, like her name, and how she usually acted, "Nice day, is it not?" Sherin smiles happily at her.