"I was wondering the same thing," Beshlog whispers back. The giant then cracks a smile. "Maybe the guys on top think we're the 'special' team that needs an extra challenge?"

This conversation get's Warren's attention. "A competition? Sounds like a right good time! ...but I agree, why weren't we told this up front? Were we supposed to go somewhere else first to get all that information?"

Muck sticks out his appendage and forms it into a hand offering it to Miken, "We look forward to this friendly competition and may the best team win. Speaking of which," as he points to his book, "aren't those directions there backwards?"

"Then Muck turns to his group, shall we be off?" He says trying to hide the mirth in his voice.

"Sure thing," Beshlog says. "Let's get ourselves situated for whatever we're about to do... Last thing we need is to be runnin' round like chickens with our heads cut off no idea who's in charge of what when our friends apparently have everything all figured out already."

He's genuinely anxious about it. Like he's been cramming for an project that he just found out is due in an hour. Miken stumbles about and starts to go through his book as it appears it was backwards. You all leave the cadet to his troubles as you head out the refractory.

You arrive at the Simulations Deck at the same time as another team of cadets, Miken trailing behind, all of you gathering in the main hall where today’s training officers—Saerthe Abizin and Boatswain Tarto—stand waiting. A few members of the other squad murmur excitedly, but a glare from Boatswain Tarto as she chews her cigar quiets them.

Saerthe Abizin scans the congregation with silver eyes. Their stern gaze shifts to a wide grin. “Well, this is going to be fun.”

Tarto steps forward, "Good morning cadets and welcome back to the simulation halls. We'll be running both your groups simultaneously, in way of friendly competition. Each squad shall be earning points, which are given and tracked by both Sarthe and I. And as some of you already may know by some officer's loose lips." She gives a glance back to Saerthe who shrugs, "Roles shall be assigned for this mission. Saerthe, if you please."

"Thank you Boatswain, now there has been some rumors going on about roles and such. But let me explain them first, the spelljamer is the pilot, designated pilot for the ship. They'll be responsible for both steering and handling of the ship, simple to say, harder in practice. The shipmate is next, responsible for manning, maintaining, and defending the ship. And the captain is the final role, responsible for shipmates and pilot, is to give orders and to either know the right course of action or encourage the crew to do the impossible. And for who shall get those roles, well, each of your squads shall decide amongst yourselves.

This exercise is judging your whole squad, not individuals. So assigning you all roles shall place expectations upon you, we want to avoid that and get a solid grasp on how you all function. Please take a moment to decide your roles and we shall begin the briefing for the mission."

The new revelation that they will have to figure out who does what on their own catches Beshlog by surprise... He looks around at the rest of his crew, trying to picture who would be best in what rolls.

"Don't know 'bout where to put the rest of us," the giant says. "But I'm thinking that Mirelda would be our best bet for spelljammer, seeing how she was the champ of that obstacle course we did a ways back. I think we can probably trust her not to smash us headlong into an asteroid."

"Will do my best," did not argue Mirelda. "Hope luck will be with me this time. Keep them away from the chair and I will see to it you still have a ship to fight on."

"Alright," Warren nods to Beshlog's proposal. "Who do ya'll think should be captain?" As much as the dragonborn wants the position, he's not about to go suggesting himself.

(Is Adam still with us?)

(Not too sure, will send a dm to ask Adam, Bellona, and Zaridil.)

Beshlog is in much the same position as Warren... part of him wants to take on the position of captain, but he's not going to declare it in front of everyone else. That and, honestly, he isn't sure he'd be all that good at the job.

"Maybe we should take a vote?" he suggests.

"Or flip a coin? Though we would need several coins then. Maybe we should go from the job description? The captain would have to keep an eye on everyone and everything, not actively engaging in one place, whether it is combat or some ship work. Say, we are fighting, who can we afford to let leave the fight and run on the other side to help with something else?"

"Good questions," the giant says thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "Well, we'll probably want to make sure that either Belona or Zaradil is free to do healing magic... maybe it would even be best to have both of them stay near the action. Since you're the spelljammer you're obviously going to be a bit too busy to be performing captain duties as well. So I guess that would leaves it a choice between Warren, Adam, or myself."

(Ok I'll just keep RP like he's here then)

"Based on the amount of experience each of us has, I'd say Adam is the best fit." Warren states, "But that's only if he wants the role."

"Sounds reasonable," Beshlog says. "And if he doesn't want the job, you and me can arm-wrestle for it."

Warren smiles and flexes his right arm, "Heh, sounds like a plan. I sure ain't one to turn down a challenge."

Muck slides up behind Beshlog, as 6 different appendages spread out all ending in hands, laughing "Your on. However I have no desire to be captain or any position in charge at the moment. As long as one of you are leading us, I will be happy and I am sure we will succeed in our mission."

"Well, I wouldn't mind a bit of practice before having a go at our dragon friend," Beshlog says with a smile, clasping one of the offered hands. "Ready when you are."

Athletics: 18

His many hands slop against each other and form back into one hand, that grasps Beshlogs, "3..2..1...go!" He yells quickly and starts to pull.

Athletics: 13

(...considering how badly we both rolled, probably looks a bit like a slap fight lol)

Though Beshlog may possess greater raw strength than Muck, the extra leverage of several appendages proves too much even for the golaith's brawn.

"Well played, little buddy," the giant says with a chuckle, patting Muck on the back. "But now I'm warmed up, Warren probably won't be so lucky."