The Sea, She Sings to Me

{Flashback} {507 AV, Fall 11}

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The vast, beautiful oceans encircling Mizahar. The Eastern Ocean to the east and the Western Ocean to the west.

The Sea, She Sings to Me

Postby Thalrick on February 26th, 2015, 11:40 pm

''Hoist the mast, curs, it's past time we sailed to Suvan, where plunder will be aplenty! All this floating has got me legs stiff!'' Yarlen bellowed from the quarterdeck. The crew below all cheered, Thalrick included. They had spent the last few months in port, and had hired a dozen carpenters and shipwrights to repair the damage they had been inflicted by an enemy vessel. The enemy had not been as fortunate as a mere damaged stern, as their ship had sunk to the bottom of the sea, the crew along with it. It was Thalrick's first taste of combat, and it had been all too sweet. The sound of chaos erupting all around him, the thrill of kill or be killed; it had been an experience he would not soon forget.

''Thal, fetch me that lanyard would ya? We have some supplies here to hold down.'' Vann barked over the sounds of cheers amongst the crew. He was a tall man, twenty years old, making him five older than Thalrick. His face was gaunt and pale, no matter how long they spent beneath the sun. His copper hair tumbled gracefully down to his shoulders, and his face was covered in stubble that was as red as fire itself. His tunic was covered in gunpowder and blood, his breeches torn and frayed. Vann never wore shoes though, and nobody knew why.

Thalrick handed him the lanyard, a thick rope made of horse hair, and Vann thanked him for it. He was always thankful, always polite. Somehow he had retained his good manners on a ship full of the opposite. ''Help me with it, would ya?'' he asked as he began to push the barrels toward the poop deck. Their combined strength made it easier to move, so Thalrick held it still while Vann fastened it against the rail. ''That should do, enough fish to last us a month.'' Vann said, patting the barrel like it was a canine. Tasha rushed by them then, the Myrian who had joined The Widower under the promise of glory and death. She was dark-skinned, slender even for a woman, with thick brown-black dreadlocks that hung down to her shoulder bones. Her face was ugly and scarred, with dark green war paint dashed across her forehead and cheeks. Tasha never wore much clothing, often opting for a pair of ragged black shorts, small leather slippers and a piece of cloth that concealed her breasts. Even in the rain she wore them, even when it was beyond cold upon the sea.

Myrians are a resilient kind, after all. . .

''Help me.'' She said in common, a language she was having a hard time getting a grip on. Thalrick, Tasha and Vann all tugged the plank on board, so that there was no way to reach the docks again. That meant that sail was truly about to be set, and they would finally be free of this poor port town. Yarlen was on the poop deck now, looking out at the ocean that awaited them. The rest of the crew scurried back and forth the decks like rats, securing the rigging, half-raising the mast, and making sure the cannons were held firm. When all was in check, he shouted the command.

''We sail now, for glory and for plunder, for gold and for freedom!'' The roars from the crew were louder this time, and before long The Widower was back where it belonged; on open waters. They sailed for six days and six nights on the open sea, and Thalrick was glad he was finally doing something again, finally using his time well. Whether it was tending the crow's nest or helping adjust the mast, it made him feel worthy; like he was needed for once. As a slave he had felt worthy, but only in the way a pet with only one good purpose could. Being on the ocean, well, that made him feel so much more alive. . .
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Thalrick
Plagued by proverb
 
Posts: 51
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Joined roleplay: February 26th, 2015, 4:00 am
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