[Seventh Sea] The Free Traders of the Huld

[fishey_me]

The jail stinks. Moreso, in fact, than other jails. Even the cool sea air that blows through the small window is not really enough to ventilate the smell of vomit, blood, mold, and death. The Vendel usually keep pirates and traitors in these cells. Scant straw covers the cobblestone floor and it is so inconsistently bumpy that there isn't anywhere to lay without a rock poking a prisoner in the back. A rat sits just out of reach, sniffing Sebastian with interest. Spiderwebs cling to the ceiling high up in the corners. The lock isn't especially complicated, but the door is so rusted and badly maintained that it creaks loudly when he so much as touches it, not allowing for a stealth escape.

"Thirty guilders is more than anybody ought to be worth," a gruff voice barks from the upper level of the jail. "Did he kill anyone?"

"Near as I can tell," the ragged voice of the jailer rumbles, "he ran off with a few too many laerd's daughters' hearts."

"They jail people for that now?"

The jailer replies in too hushed a tone to be heard. A purse clinks heavily against a wooden table.

"You can count it if it suits you," the gruff man says, "but Anvindr the merchant is as honest with his gold as--"

"It wouldn't matter if you were a Vodacce liar or as honest as my rune reading, Anvinder, I have to count, anyway," as the man speaks, the clink clink of coin can be heard as the jailer counts, "Don't throw your honor in my face like some backwards 'Vesten.' You're a Vendel; act like it."

"Bah," Anvindr replies.

Clink. Clink. Clink. "Who's the Montaigne to you, anyway? He's pretty, but I thought you were more attached to your wife." A dangerous comment, liable to provoke another man.

Clink. Clink. "Hah! I'd break a boy like him in half if I wanted to bed him," Anvindr laughs. Trash talk, as it were, is nothing new to him. Anyone who knew him and the crew of the Huld would know such words were commonplace. Trivial. "The boy used to serve on my crew, back before I lost this," Anvindr lets his injury speak for itself. The jailer grunts with understanding. "I keep a watch on my crewmen."

"Thirty guilders will set your operation back by months," the jailer warns. "That's a lot of money." The final coin clinks, whirs like it is spinning, and then gets slapped down.

"You're telling me? Bah," Anvinder replies dismissively. "I told you it was all there. What side did the coin land on?"

"Heads."

"Auspicious."

"Yeah," the jailer says, "for me." He scoops the coins across the table and back into the purse. "Follow," he orders Anvindr.

Both men, equally enormous in size though very distinct in stature tromp down the stairs. The jailer is tall, long past fat, and his hair and skin are slick with grease and blackened with grime. He has a chain shirt stretched across his chest, leaving his fat gut exposed, his hairy belly daring to expose itself to attack.

Anvindr, on the other hand, is as solid as a rock. Broad shoulders, large muscles, a grizzled grey beard make him take up more space than someone normally should. His body has softened somewhat as age took its toll, as it does with all men, but it makes him seem all the more sturdy. He wears a well-brushed black coat with a wolfs-fur trim at the neck and cuffs-- inelegant, but effective at staving off the cold. His presence, that of someone who is completely in control of his surroundings, only makes him more impressive. Far moreso than the jailer, at least.

The only thing missing from Anvindr's appearance is his left eye, now covered by a rune-inscribed patch. He crosses his arms and looks into the cell with his remaining eye, and for all of a minute, he seems more stern and serious than the hangman. Then the facade falters, the edges of his eye crinkling with suppressed mirth and his lips twitching.

"What did I tell you about Vesten maids?" He asks Sebastian, apparently trying not to laugh.

---

Meanwhile, the docks are filled with activity. The dark waters lap softly against the hulls of proud ships, their masts stretching up into the grey sky. Cold rain was on the horizon. Vesten fishmongers barter with Vendel sailors, their black and brown furs and clothes in sharp contrast to the sailors' white shirts and grey trousers. Captains and merchants wander back and forth among ships and shops, the brighter colors in the dreary scene.

A short, round woman stands at the end of a dock, her small, sharp eyes scanning the crowd. Despite being so short in stature, her blonde braids are laced with white and lines at the edge of her eyes give her a look like she is squinting at everything. Two younger men periodically walk up to the woman, keeping her abreast of transactions that the scattered crewmen are making. She nods at them curtly, occasionally making a comment, but never tearing her eyes from the crowd. The two young men nod at her, looking amused by the whole situation.

The two men wander back down the pier, scanning the crowd themselves. They are obviously brothers, both blonde and tall with bright green eyes. While they both look about the same age, one has a swagger to his step, and even through his clothes, one can tell he has perfectly hewn muscles. The other is too long in the limbs, thin, and sharp-faced; this one has a measured, calculated stride. They exchange a look when they reach a particularly crowded part of the dock. "Hail to all!" The handsomer of the two calls out, cupping his hands about his mouth, "The good ship Huld seeks fine sailors to join her on this season's tour!"

"Now, while most of you are the kinds of wretches that the gutters wouldn't take, I'm sure a handful of you might measure up to Captain Anvindr's exacting standards," the plainer man said, his voice naturally louder than his brother's. "And if not you, mayhap one of your kin or friends. Maybe your sons. Eh?"

"We pay a very generous ten guilder a month to our sailors," the handsome brother calls out, smiling at the smallish crowd beginning to gather. It is a winning smile, even charming to the lads and lasses who'd be inclined to his sort. "The captain has even been known to pay more for seasoned sailors and trades folk."

The plainer brother surveys the crowd, his sharp eyes conveying that he is likely the more clever of the brothers. "So long as his season is actually worth his salt. Blind carpenters and stuck up surgeons have no place on the Huld. Now, where are the sailors? Is this crowd of vagabonds the only lot with the guts to make the venture?"

[LydaLynn]

Freyja had been watching the crowds for a while, looking for the right ship. She didn't dare wait much longer, her aunt would likely discover her missing soon. But Freyja knew better than to walk up to the young men in the middle of the crowd. She would be seen, and, worse, remembered.

But the woman she had seen them talking with, she was in a much less populated area of the docks and stopping to speak with her would likely go unnoticed. Slinging her sack of clothes on her back, Freyja approached the woman. A nod of greeting preceded her words, "The good ship Huld is looking for sailors. I have to sea before, though it has been long. I am trained with many types of weapons and I can read and write and do math. Have you need of my skills?"

Freyja was being blunt, but she hoped the woman would accept her manner and get past the unconventional approach. There were few other options and this one seemed her best prospect at the moment.

[fishey_me]

The squat old woman sizes Freyja up with a swift glance. "A bit skinny, aren't ya?" She asks, her expression indicating little of her emotions. If anything she seems herself rushed. She looks over Freyja's shoulders at the two young men in the crowd, their show still drawing a crowd, and then after a few moments consideration she replies, "Can you cook?"

[LydaLynn]

Freyja shakes her head, "Would you trust one as skinny as I to try? I can manage to clean a rabbit or fish and sear it enough to eat without getting sick, but it is not something most would care to eat given the chance."

[fishey_me]

The woman smiles, "Not in my galley, at any rate. But you can run figures, keep track of finances, and record it all legibly?" She places her hands on her wide hips, looking up at Freyja.

[LydaLynn]

Freyja nods. "I can. Though only if provided paper and writing utensils. I carry none with me. I am willing to demonstrate if needed."

[fishey_me]

"Alright, come. We've paper you can scribble on," the old woman steps to the side of Freyja and bellows at the younger men, "I've this one to take below. See that your father gets back without losing his other eye!"

She places a hand on Freyja's arm and leads her across the docks, "Come, lass. I am called Nanna. Captain Anvindr is my husband, and those two are my twin sons." She smiles proudly. "I could use a hand with managing the ledgers. Anvindr is a fine sailor and a great captain, but I manage the actual merchant work. When I realized it was no different than running the household's ledgers I came aboard to keep close to my husband, two squalling babes at my breast. My sister-in-law, stars protect her, keeps the estate in check, but she's a shrewish sort. As firm as her brother, but with none of the warmth."

She guides Freyja to the captain's quarters where scrolls of paper with complicated equations and transactions all over them. One in particular is written in two different hands from the others, and both hands have black lines drawn through errors. "I try and try to teach my boys, but they've heads for knots and sails, not figures. Their father has a sense for numbers; he can chart a course in his head just by looking at the map, but he never learned to write. Figure this," she says pointing to the list of equations. "They're our most usual transactions. It's all in Guilders, by the way."

[[You won't need to roll for this. It's pretty straightforward math, and you're trained in it.]]

[LydaLynn]

Freyja nods and sits without a word. She takes a moment to look over the equations before even lifting a writing utensil. With a few neat and concise marks. The numbers have slightly more flourish than needed, but she doesn't make them elaborate, more flowing. As though the writing has a grace of its own.

After a few moments of work, she sets down the [pen or quill or charcoal stick] and takes a step away from the desk for Nanna to look it over. Hands clasped behind her back, Freyja waits, neither nervous nor arrogant nor expectant.

[fishey_me]

Nanna had been looking over Freyja's work with her squinty eyes, humming periodically. She barely needs to glance at the final results to know that Freyja knows her stuff.

"You ran a household of your own?" She asks, "Or was your father a merchant sailor, too?" She shakes her head, "You're too small to have birthed any children, that much is obvious. Never mind. Welcome aboard the Huld. You'll be helping me with the figures, as you can gather, and with your fine script, you may be asked to transcribe letters. You can write in Vendel, I trust? Of course you can, and the Tongue, too, I wager."

"You'll do well to keep your skirts about your legs," she warns. "The Trade Sea is an awful place to go into labor. To say nothing of how easy it is to rile the lads up without them competing for your bed. They won't accost you, of course. Anvindr won't tolerate that, but it's best to avoid trouble."

[LydaLynn]

Freyja smiles, but offers no personal information. With a nod, "I am Freyja. I have no desire to rile the lads, though I prefer breeches to skirts. I am capable of defending myself, though I am glad to know they will not accost me. It would be better for everyone if I didn't have to do so, I would not like to deprive the crew of a needed hand."

Her words are very simple, to the point. She doesn't believe in boasting, but she feels it only fair to give warning. Freyja would defend her virtue with whatever weapons came to hand, and she was well trained to use anything as a weapon. She hoped it wouldn't be necessary for her to do so. She was certain it wouldn't be needed more than once.

[codetyro]

With his customary grin, spirits yet to be dampened by the walls of his cell suffering that very state, Sebastian looks up at Anvindr. Barely able to contain his glee, he barks a laugh. "It was all true!"

"They're strong! They're aggressive. They're..." Sebastian's song-trained lungs belt out a roar. His mood sombers a bit. "So are you my rescuer? How much of my father's money will it take this time?"

[fishey_me]

Nanna looks Freyja up and down. "Well, we can need all the hands we can muster if a raiding party strikes. It's good to know you're more than you look. You'll fit right in."

---

Anvindr scoffs. "I sent word to your father that I heard you were in jail. He offered me more than thirty Guilders to get you out," he nods at the jailer, who unlocks the door. "I didn't take him up on it. You've been in and out of jail far too often of late. You stink of a man with too much time on his hands."

He extends his hand to Sebastian. It is heavily calloused from years of hard work. "We're in need of some good hands on the Huld, and yours have grown idle. You know the ropes, and my sons have missed your, how'd you say it? Je ne sais quoi?"

"You can join my crew for the season, earn your Guilders back, or I can leave you here, lad. Choice is yours."

[LydaLynn]

Freyja nods, "I am glad to be of use. I you would direct me where to stow my pack and what you would have of me first, I will allow you to get back to more pressing duties."

[codetyro]

Sebastian looks at Anvindr skeptically. "You mean you'd invite me even after the - "

Seeing no recollection from Anvindr, Sebastian shakes his head. "no, never mind. I'd be happy to be aboard. If you recall, I was a novice sailor at best and my skills in that area haven't improved much. Idle hands I definitely have though and they are truly evil's workshop." He sighs deeply.

"You certain about this? I'll likely get you into as many..." Sebastian pauses to find the right word, rolling it around in his head and eventually his mouth before rolling it out cautiously and delicately. "...'situations' as I get myself into."

[fishey_me]

"We aren't leaving port until the lads get back with the supplies, the cargo, and the new hands. I'll set you to inventory when the lads get back," Nanna gestures for Freyja to follow and leads the younger woman to the gun deck. "You'll have a hammock down here. There's plenty of space. We're taking on almost a whole new crew, so stake your claim to whichever hooks you like. I recommend over there," she points to an area near a lamp. "Better ventilation."

---

Anvindr's hand is still outstretched. "I need good hands. Hands I can trust. I trust you. I admit, mostly I trust you to chase skirts and set a bad example for my boys, but nevertheless. You've done right by me in the past."

He smirks, "Just don't go peeking up under Nanna's skirt like you had when you were first aboard. The scenery hasn't improved."

[LydaLynn]

Freyja follows. With a nod, "Thank you. I believe I will take your suggestion." She settles in, taking her time to make sure there is nothing that will cause issues later, like a drip just above the hooks or obvious rodent dens. Once she has claimed her spot, stowed her bag, taking anything of value and secreting it about her person, and ensured it will be livable for the long term, Freyja heads heads back up onto deck. She finds a place she can sit out of the way of the work going on around the ship.

[codetyro]

Sebastian, still cuffed, reaches up his hands to take Anvindr's giant mitt in both of his, grin still plastered to his face. "Trust a man's nature not the man, I always say. Though as far as Nanna's concerned, I think I'd prefer to trust your wisdom than my nature." He shudders at the thought.

[fishey_me]

The jailer unlocks the cuffs for Sebastian and Anvindr claps the Montaigne lad on the shoulder with his free hand.

"Good lad! Come," he says, "We'll gather your effects and go." He leads the younger man up the stairs.

"You've grown," he says to Sebastian as jailer squeezes past both men-- a difficult maneuver, to say the least. "How long has it been?"

---

[[i'm not ignoring Freyja, just waiting for some of the boys to wander on the scene.]]

[codetyro]

Sebastian groans a tad as the cuffs come off and rubs his wrists gingerly. He does a careful balancing act trying to get as close to the all as possible without touching either the wall or the jailer, another involuntary shudder coursing through him. One step closer to freedom, he looks up at Anvindr and shrugs. "What has it been, seven? Eight years?"

"And thanks, Anvindr. You're sticking your neck out for me and I appreciate it."

[fishey_me]

"You hadn't come into your beard yet, I don't think. Mind you, I never can tell if Montaignes ever grow beards," he says, laughing heartily at his own joke.

The jailer wades up the stairs, and from where Sebastian is, he can see the jailer unlocking a cabinet.

"So, if you don't mind my asking, what did they charge you with, or do you even know?" Anvindr asks, waving Sebastian's thanks away with a dismissive hand.

[Sven Lorakson]

The door of a dockside inn opens, revealing a young man. He is obviously Vesten by his dress: a mail shirt over leather hauberk, leather pants, fur cloak and fur boots. Bands of gold with decorative etching encircle his biceps, many with ornamental protrusions not coincidentally exactly a guilder's weight, it being customary to twist these off when making a purchase in Vestenmannavjnar lands rather than use the hated currency of their Vendel cousins. He has obviously not quite reached his full growth, as his build still holds the lankiness of youth, though his height suggests that he will be quite formidable when he comes into his full measure. Any thief foolish enough to consider wresting one of those shiny gold bands from his arms would think twice upon seeing the large and very sharp axes slung at either hip.

Hearing the men calling out for sailors the moment he stepped out, and their proximity to his chosen place of rest, seemed to be good omens. Perhaps this ship would lead him to she who he sought, with hopefully a good measure of adventure before and after. Trouble often finds he who seeks it, and there was no glory without trouble, so one who wished to experience the glories of legend must logically seek trouble, it seemed to him. It would have been irresponsible of him to go looking for trouble without any other reasons, but if he happened to find it while on his search, who would mind?

"Fair skies and full sails, gentlemen," he addresses the twins. "Would you have use for a skjaeren? I am no master of the runes, not yet at least, but I can stir a breeze on the calmest day or quieten the worst of a storm. I wish to travel, and what better way than aboard a ship?"

[fishey_me]

The twins exchange a glance, silent communication obvious between them, though their secret words are still a mystery. The thin brother places his hands on his hips. "You'll have to demonstrate for captain Anvindr these skills. We take no con men with rune bags on our ventures." The more handsome lad turns to some young boys who are vying for his attention, letting the conversation be between his brother and Sven.

"You lads will make fine sailors someday, yes, but for now, don't your mothers need strong backs for their fishing ships?"

The thin brother walks closer to Sven to let their words be more private. "Vesten, are you? I trust your honor is as true as your birth runes?" His eyes narrow somewhat. "We've endured too many Vesten selling our course to their raiding brethren in the name of the old ways."

From the dock, Sven can see Nanna waddle into view, and she takes in the sight of her son and this stranger talking with her same, likely her usual (though having never met the woman, he cannot say for certain) level of apprehension.

"What is your name, skjaeren?" The tall twin asks. He is not aggressive, but he is perhaps more cautious than he has any reason to be.

[Sven Lorakson]

"Such duplicity is not the way of true Vesten" Sven spoke with clear conviction. "That is the way of men with the heart of a Vendel but no desire to follow their laws, or of fools trying to recreate a past that never existed. The gods would laugh at them for their pretensions, for all of the things they do just because it is the opposite of what the Vendel do. There is much to honor in our ancestors and their ways, but before someone can follow their ways, that person must know what those ways were."

It was rude to ask for his name without first giving their own, but he had been the one to approach them, so he let it slide. "I am Sven Lorakson. I have no problems with getting my hands dirty, either, so when my runes aren't needed, I know the basics of ship life and am reasonably adept with my axes should some rockhead decide to attack us." Guessing at a reason for some their caution, he elaborated, "I was taught to always speak the truth of my measure; that way the stories I bring home are all the more impressive. I am still a bit green, but there is no shame in that. The tallest tree still starts as a sapling many years before it can become the keel of a fine ship."

[fishey_me]

The tall twin seems satisfied with this response, and nods authoritatively. "Too many of our lot are liable to be as green as you speak. Some sacrifices must be tolerated, however," he doesn't offer any more explanation than that, seeming more irritated with the situation than he seems willing to let show, especially around his family. "I am Alreck," he says with a nod. "That one," he says pointing behind himself at his twin, "is Erik. Do not confuse us. I'm the taller, and mine is the longer name. When in doubt, you may call me first mate and my brother bo'sun. We are Anvindr's sons. The lady there," he points at Nanna, "is our mother, the captain's wife. You will show her as much respect as the captain himself, or you'll never hear the end of it." He looks pained somewhat, like he is remembering being nagged for silly triffles.

"She will show you where you can place your hammock. When the captain returns, speak to him of your fee for your runes. I've never had to figure such a sum for a skjaeren."

At this admission, it is suddenly easy to notice that Alreck, and thus his brother too, cannot be more than maybe nineteen years of age. While undoubtedly seasoned sailors, both are far too young to have worked long enough to earn their esteemed titles on the ship.

[[before anyone posts more story, please post your full character sheets and backgrounds in the Characters sub-forum. This applies to Fernando, Sven, and Gustave. Freyja and Sebastian are okay.]]

[codetyro]

Sebastian shrugs with an innocent grin. "They never said, but so far as I'll admit, I'm innocent!" He continues to follow Andvindr, though looks about for his things.

"I don't think it's true of all Montaigne, but my family has a distinct lack of facial hair so I do what I can to keep it removed. If you can't do something right, perhaps it ought not be done at all. Maybe *that's* why they threw me in here - jealousy over my baby smooth skin!" Sebastian looks up at the mountain walking beside him. "Oooor maybe not."

"I'm sure whatever it is they accuse my of is all farce and fairy-tale. What they know they can't prove so I'd bet that what they can prove just isn't true." Sebastian takes a moment to reflect on his surroundings and whereabouts, but eventually disregards it as fortunes of fun. He eyes Anvindr with a sideways and slightly scrutinizing look. "Enough about me, what brutal catastrophe befell the Huld such that you seek me for your crew?"

[fishey_me]

The jailer pulls a bag filled with Sebastian's things out of the locked cabinet and sets it on his table. He then goes and sits in the chair behind the table, the old wood creaking in protest. He offers no comment on Sebastian's guilt or innocence, but rather just scowls at his flippancy. He begins laying out on the table Sebastian's effects to show they are all there and intact. [[Nothing of yours is missing.]]

"The Vendel have taken to keeping their faces smooth, but I prefer my beard. It suits me well in early spring winds and when autumn turns to winter. I don't need to cover my face like some Crescent maiden when cold winds blow," he says, stroking his own rather magnificent beard.

"Whatever they concocted, they seemed to want your gold more than your guilt to be proven. That, or I managed to talk to the right people, or mayhap the wrong people, when I was investigating your capture." Anvindr shrugs.

Anvindr rubs his temple next to his good eye. "When the questions are aimed at you, you dance like a Castilian, but when you ask the questions, you cut like one. Not here, lad." He says. "I will speak with you about the matter on the Huld." At this, he eyes the jailer.

[codetyro]

"Castillian?! I'm almost offended. None dance better than the Montaigne! We invented dance, refined dance, and now define dance!" Sebastian's tone is playful and light, the words dancing off his tongue though he keeps a dance from his step as it would likely as not prevent a hasty departure.

Sebastian gathers his belongs with an over exaggerated bow to the jailer. "Your hospitality has been well noted and should I ever be forced to rot in a jail cell, it will be yours that all are compared to. Should I find my way into a cell among the Vendel, I shall certainly request your most excellent service once more."

He dons his gaudy hat and strokes the length of the immense plume sticking out of it, ensuring it is undamaged. Tossing his cape about him, Sebastian nods his head and speaks once more to Anvindr. "After you, oh Captain, my Captain!"

As Sebastian falls in line with Anvindr, his expression turns grim and he grumbles in a barely audible growl. "I sure hope I can one day grow more than a cat's whisker worth of stubble..."

[fishey_me]

"You've never seen a Castilian lady move her hips, then. I remember a Rosalita in a tavern once, many years ago. You would've still been playing with wooden swords then, I warrant. She held the attentions of even the sternest Ussuran with her dance," he chuckles and thumps Sebastian on the back.

The jailer scoffs at Sebastian's coy remarks and pulls out a big book and a charcol stick to make record of Sebastian's release.

"While you're on my ship, try and avoid getting back into any cells, no matter their quality," Anvindr says, his voice more gruff than before. "I like to think that thirty Guilders was my last investment in you for a goodly time."

He leads Sebastian out of the jail, laughing heartily at his remark about his facial hair. "Keep bedding Vesten maids, and you might grow some yet!"

He leads Sebastian through the streets of the smallish port. It does not take long for Sebastian to notice the captain periodically looks around, as though watching for assailants. Such behavior is uncommon for proud Anvindr as the man has rarely, if ever, made any permanent enemies. Even pirates and raiders seemed to see the honor and the dignity in this rough-hewn man. At the docks, Sebastian sees one of the twins (before they hit puberty, they were nearly identical, and he hasn't seen them since) talking to a tallish blonde lad, possibly his twin brother, with a small crowd gathered around behind him. The crowd seems focused on someone in the center of the crowd rather than on the brothers. On the dock, Nanna is looking on the crowd with her usual squinty-eyed expression. The Huld, just as solid as ever, bobs slightly in the water, but is manned with the fewest hands possible.

No, not as solid as ever, on a second examination. Just as Anvindr has lost his eye, the Huld has been damaged as well. Its side has been recently patched, the new wood several shades lighter than the old wood. The patch is long. A hole that big could have sunk the Huld with all hands. Other sailors are used to such damage on ships, but the Huld almost never sees combat, even from raiders, so to Sebastian, it is quite an unusual sight.

[codetyro]

"We can argue the merits of dance another time, I suppose. Perhaps in a Castillian port with Castillian women to provide us examples." Sebastian's smile is wolfish but he holds it for only a moment before growing serious. "I will do whatever's in my power to resist urges that may land me in a cell. Though as you likely understand, the actions of a many often are dictated by the desires of his nature rather than the wishes of his intellect. With luck, perhaps I can align the two one day and nevermore suffer the fate of the criminal."

Once in sight of the ship and seeing the damage upon it, Sebastian's mood changes appreciably. "Anvindr... by the gods, what happened?!"

[fishey_me]

"The Vesten are growing a bit more surly than they have in the past." He looks around him for any who would be eavesdropping. "Not five years ago, most Vesten were content to leave me be. I've held to most of the old ways, after all. My labors are just. Of late, however, fanatics have started declaring any merchants, myself included, no better than Voddace swindlers."

He gestures for Sebastian to follow him, and as he walks, his voice gets lower. "Even before the season got going, the Huld was boarded by raiders. They fancied themselves true Vestenmannavnjar sons, swaggered onto my ship, and demanded my cargo as tribute to the gods and the glory of our heritage. Bah!" He scoffed, "I've two sons, a wife, and a household in the eastern islands to think of, not some ancient history. I refused."

He scowls. "The captain of the raiders didn't like that. Wanted to take my other eye. Fortunately, Alreck was crafty at the helm, and ran us aground. It distracted the raiding party, which I'd hoped would allow my men a chance to overtake them. More than half of my crew... The blackguards just stood there. My first mate even called me a stubborn fool and tried to order me, his captain, to stand down and hand over the cargo. 'At least you'll have the Huld,' he said to me. Bah! My ship, an empty hold, and a starving family. My sons and my loyal men, what few of them there were, took care of my mutinous mate and the raiders. When we got into port, one of my crewmen told me someone was selling my course to the raiders. He wasn't sure who it was. So, after we patched up from our grounding, I tossed the lot out at the nearest port with their wages."

"Not knowing who it was who sold me out, I kept only my family, a Castilian lad I'd only picked up a few weeks earlier, and a skeleton crew of some Vendel lads at the last port. That's where I heard you'd been arrested. I needed more men- men I can trust, mind- and this port is usually a good place to find solid hands. Two birds, one stone."

He waves at the blonde lads talking to one another. "Alreck, my lad! Look what rubbish I've picked up!" He says, slapping Sebastian on the back.

Alreck, gaunter than any of Anvindr's stock ought to be, grins and waves. "Actually, Captain, you'll want to speak to this lad. I'll see to it Sebastian gets his hammock."

"You'll finish finding me crew, lad. You and Sebastian can catch up when we make sail. Your mother will help him set up his hammock."

"Mother'll sooner tie him to the hammock hooks than his hammock," Alreck says, disappointment evident.

"That she will. Get back to your duties, lad. Now, who's this man?" He stands before the other blonde lad. It doesn't take long for Sebastian to realize this man is definitely not Erik. He has a very different facial structure. Erik had his father's eyes and his mother's mouth. Alreck had his mother's eyes and his father's nose.

"This is Sven Lorakson," Alreck says with a nod to the other lad. "I'll leave you to him. Come on, Sebastian."

"I told you to get to your duties!" Anvindr barks. Alreck scurries away with a laugh. Anvindr shakes his head. "Nanna's over there, Sebastian. Remember what I told you," he warns, pointing at the Montaigne.

"As for you," he says to Sven. "I am Captain Anvindr. Are you to be one of my new hands?" He offers his hand to the younger man.

[LydaLynn]

Freyja sits on the deck, out of the way and out of casual view from the docks below. She, however, is paying attention to the millings of people on the docks. She couldn't hear what was being said, but obviously the man with one eye knew the twins. The young man with him didn't seem to fit with the others at all, but he had been pointed towards Nanna, so it seemed likely he was crew.

She was doing her best to figure out who was who and of what importance and rank on the ship. Freyja understood that on a vessel like this, knowing the dynamics would be even more important than any court of party her aunt might have taken her to. She cursed her 'aunt' but still was grateful to some of the lessons she had been forced to take. The ability to read people just by looking at them, the way they held themselves, the way those around them reacted, would be invaluable here.

[fishey_me]

[[i'm posting this here because I suspect no one is going to look at the Characters subforums all that much now that most of the characters are finished. So here's some FYI stuff, especially since at least one person here has never played with the group at large.

First, some ground rules:

1. No swearing. We are all old enough and intelligent enough to form better explicatives than four letter words. Think of all the fun, cleanish pirate insults you can manage, you villainous curs! When in doubt, just say something like, "Theodore swore angrily as he ran towards the villain," instead of an actual swear word.

2. No real names, generally speaking, please. I've slipped up myself, but it's best not to let that all out there on the net, as it were. Y'all can call me F_M, Fishey, GM or Em, but try and refer to each other by your character names or any approved nicknames.

3. Unless I ask you to, do not invite others into the game. Other people can read all they like, but I'm currently accepting no new players.

4. Be courteous and respectful to each other. This means that any in or out of character disputes are to remain in or out of character. I will only tolerate PvP when it is discussed with me in person.

5. Be courteous and respectful to me. Obviously, or I'll boot you out of the game so fast your head will spin.

6. Romance with NPCs and romance between PCs is fine, but keep it PG. Otherwise, make it private and make sure it doesn't violate rule 4 or 5. I will never role play 'adult situations' except as tasteful fade-to-blacks.

7. I may be new to the rules, and while I welcome help and feedback, ultimately it's my call, not the book or history's if something can, should, or does happen.

Those rules aside, I'm a pretty laid-back DM/GM, and I want this game to be fun. Most things here will rely more on cinematic descriptions, not dice rolls, even for combat or skill checks. There is a dice-roller on this site, and I want a text read-out of dice rolls when they are required. Don't roll before I need you to, though. I need a double-bracketed out of character "Do I need to roll for this?" so I can set a target number for you to beat and to provide data on how well your opponent is doing against you. That will most often be for during combat, though.

I'm not an expert on 16-18th century etiquette or history, but I am a passionate enthusiast. I have been using this particular website: http://pirates.hegewisch.net/pirates.html for some time for information on historical ships, medicine, and whatnot. Allowing for the anachronisms of the 7th Sea universe as outlined in the GMG and the PHB, this is where I'm getting most of my information about ship life. Feel free to use the site for yourselves, if you like.

I don't have time to read the other sourcebooks or to do scads of research on Wikipedia or whatever, though, so unless you feel like a historical point or some flavor would drastically alter the way I have people thinking or acting in game, don't point me to those books. Maybe during the summer, I'll have time to read the other sourcebooks, but until then, let me do what I can with the resources I already have.]]

[Drakesblood]

"Ach! Einem Patient ist ein dumpfkopf!" Gustave mumbles as he leaves the tavern.

Gustave has decided to leave town and continue his practice and search elsewhere after a "Unreasonable" client would not take his "Advice" and kept asking to be "Cured" of his terminal illness. Gustave broke down and gave him his "Cure" and left without payment for his services.

"Herr Patient ist not vorth minem time und effvort, nor hist geldt."

Gustave makes his approach to the docks and looks for a ship, any ship that can take him anywhere but here...

[Scarlet Spider]

Fernando was lounging in the crow's nest strumming a tune on his guitar, an old familiar tune his grandfather wrote. The breeze was a pleasant addition to the warmth of the sun. The days have been difficult working as part of a skeleton crew and having no other Castillian to talk with. In hindsight he was thankful that there was no other Castillian aboard.

Fernando kept playing until- Twang!- one of the strings snapped. He sighed, set his guitar aside and climbed out and down to the deck. As he descended he noted new faces on chatting with the familiar faces of the crew: a too tall savage looking boy talking with Avindr, a thin blonde girl glaring about, and what appeared to be a Montaigne lad being directed towards Nanna.

After setting foot on the deck he proceeded to the gundeck to collect his replacement string.

[codetyro]

Sebastian throws an apologetic look to Alreck then moseys over in the direction Anvindr indicated. He tries to find Nanna, but not very hard; he's far more interested in the new crew, whatever cargo the Huld might be hauling and the spaces he might use to set up some games of chance and music for dance.

[fishey_me]

[[For the record, unless they hold an officer's position (captain, first mate, boatswain, carpenter, surgeon, etc.), most crew people don't have their own quarters. Instead, they share the gundeck. Freyja may be stationed in a separate area for her modesty or she may use curtains of sorts to protect her modesty, or she may not care at all. People keep their belongings in footlockers (glorified chests).]]

[fishey_me]

Nanna sees Sebastian coming, and just as she is about to call over to him, a loud twang distracts her. She looks up at the crow's nest and calls out, "Be careful, up there!" She doesn't keep an eye on Fernando long; all sailors worth their salt can climb the rigging without much effort.

"So, you weren't gutted already when Anvindr found you," she says, turning to Sebastian.

A handful of Vendel sailors, all unfamiliar faces but undoubtedly the skeleton crew Anvindr mentioned, load boxes and barrels onto the ship. All sailors can smell in some barrels the brine of pickled food and the heady musk of ale. The boxes have shopkeeper's names on them; most of the names seem to be of tailors and craftsmen. Likely the Huld is shipping cloth and housewares.

"Are these boys the only sailors who'll sail with the Huld?" Erik asks, cupping his hands around his mouth as Alreck rejoins him. "What about you, sir?" He asks, pointing at the irascible Eisen tramping their way.

[Drakesblood]

Gustave was still in rather bad mood and was not really in the mood for small talk. Out of all the ships he applied for, none needed or afford his services. He was about to give up hope and travel by foot to the next town when he heard some one call out for him.

"What about you, sir?" shouted a man from the dock.

Gustave looked over the ship from rudder to bow and finally to the name the "Huld", the ship looked more beaten up then most around the dock and the repaired timbers make the ship look like it took some damage recently. Tough lessons have thought Gustave to never judge anything on the outside and always take a look on the inside.

"Ach! vat about me?! Can't du zee? Ich been looking vor a ship too hire mir! Vat du you vat?" reply's Gustave in his thick Eisen accent.

[fishey_me]

[[You'll probably want to tone it back a bit.]]

"Eh?" The young man says.

[codetyro]

Sebastian, desirous of making a good impression and sadly used to hard work, shrugs sheepishly at Nanna. "Nope! Not yet! I'm gonna go..." he looks around for an excuse to escape the scrutiny of Nanna and sees the boxes and barrels being loaded. "...stow my stuff and help with the loading!"

Praying she won't call him back, he tries to beat a hasty retreat to the gundeck to stow his gear in an available locker. If successful, he changes into something more appropriate for shipboard work and returns to help with the loading of the ship.