Gabe3e

22 Flamerule 1357 Dale Reckoning

The fine bastards at the Weeping Widow informed me this night that a large flaming ship had struck the docks earlier in the night. The drunk idiot who fancies himself a bard sang for us a tale of a flying dwarf and witches who quelled some sort of goat-men uprising on the flaming ship. Given his cracklingly fine voice and the sheer absurdity of his tale, I made no haste to investigate this on my own; finishing my small-beer (father, if you ever read this, I didn’t really mean to write small-beer — surely I meant ale… very strong ale) sounded a lot better than getting robbed at the docks or walking past the sounds of what is more often than not a large hairy sailor getting his three silver pieces worth of fun with a not-so-pretty girl. At least most of the time they are girls.

I must say that I am somewhat excited by the prospect of a new ship coming in. In times like these, even a flaming ship full of goat-men brings somewhat of a promise of work to this city. I’ll be damned if joining the navy is my only way to make some money on a ship.

23 Flamerule

A donation to Tymora is in order today. Not three paces had I wandered into the docks and I could see the comotion. A lovely young elven woman and what I assume to be her elven companion, a tall bronze skinned elf in platemail bearing the symbols of Helm, stood amidst a gathering crowd of sailors. A ship, “The Silverfoot Sailor”, carrying cargo was looking for a full crew and first mate. My legs started moving forward even before my lips had a chance to part into the awkward half-grin I could manage with my jaw hanging stupidly in the air.

The lady gathered three of us off to the side while her companion “interviewed” sailors. That is to say, he spoke some strange words, surveyed the thirty some men (some of whom I swear I have been robbed by on the high seas before) and quickly parted a small group of ten from the crowd.

Normally I would have paid more attention to the Helmite. Normally it would not be the middle of Flamerule. Normally the person hiring First Mates for a ship would be some bitter old Captain. Normally those beads of sweat would not have been trickling down the elf’s half-exposed bosom into areas my eyes followed, but could not enter. Normally elves don’t have claws.

How I managed to not soil my pants… Many thanks to you, Lady Luck.

I almost choked on the saliva I had been forgetting to swallow these last few minutes of bossom-bound sweat trickling. Time slows down when a large, unbelievably muscled (I have not seen horses as muscled as this) elf in platemail points his index claw in your direction and exclaims “Him. I want this one.”

-Donovan Oakborn, First Mate of the Silverfoot Sailor

24 Flamerule

I do not know what the Captain did, but he has managed to hire the ten hardest working sailors I have ever seen. They cleaned the ship, top to bottom, without a single complaint. Either they are all noble and honest folk, or they too have seen the Captain’s claws.

His companions are not to be toyed with either. The elf, seductive and frail looking, is some kind of sorceress. She carries a lute on her back, but I have never seen a bard wield magic greater than lighting candles or creating simple tunes out of thin air.

Another elf woman, with grey skin (I didn’t know they could have grey skin), rides a flying broom and carries a decanter that sprays water with the strength of a whale’s blowhole and never seems to run out. Without her, our deck scrubbing would have taken days.

A towering man in blood red platemail and a dwarf holding an hammer almost bigger than himself also surveyed the ship, as did a strangely common looking human girl. I cannot fathom what powers she wields, but what is for sure is the uneasiness I feel about her, as my mind conjures endless ideas of what she may be… surely she does not expect to pass off as a commoner sailing off with a crew of titans.

-First Mate

25 Flamerule

The cargo was loaded today. A cheery bald halfling clad in gold trimmed robes oversaw the delivery wagon after wagon of goods from warehouses along the docks.

He must not have cared much for his property. If he did, he might have at least tried to point his eyes towards the ship and away from Delenn (as she introduced herself to the crew today, along with her companions). On a side note, the damage the ship had previously taken has been repaired, and my quarters have been constructed. I am already glad to have met Captain Kalcryx and his crew; he was most generous in awarding me both my own quarters and a salary worthy of a captain.

Tomorrow we sail around the peninsula.

-First Mate

26 Flamerule

Set sail. We have left Velen to a crowd of onlookers. I seems somewhat queer to be aboard the single trade ship leaving the port this week.

I had missed the gentle rocking of the deck below the flapping of the sails.

-First Mate

27 Flamerule

Smooth sailing. The crew is on high spirits after our first day of travel. The food we are being served is plentiful and Spellmaster Jaran’s decanter provides fresh clean water, not only for drinking but for washing our hands and faces of the salty mists of the sea.

I am somewhat weary of Captain Kalcryx’s ability to walk along the outside of the ship, often dipping under the waves for many minutes. I would quench my curiosity, but I do not want to be the first poor soul overboard.

-First Mate

Midsummer 1357 Dale Reckoning

To my surprise, I awoke today to the sounds of rain. Why in the Nine Hells is it raining? I have advised the Captain to wait out the storm, as it looks quite violent. I have ordered the sailors to the crew quarters and decid