Lingering near the edge of the crowd is a young man dressed in casual finery: a white, ruffled tunic with the breast cut to the mid-torso and strings loosened “just-so”, some seaworthy britches, and, to top it all off, an excellent pair of wooden sandals. They're varnished, of course. The ensemble is almost theatrically nautical in its effect, but the bundles of similar garments poking out of his pack betray the truth that this is just how he dresses.

Seeing an opportunity to breach through the mass of mortality, the youth steps forward and lays his luggage on the ground below. At this distance, one can easily note the the near-elven point of his ears, sunburnt and stark red against the dewy white of his hair. A rivulet of sea-water and sweat runs from the edge of his temple and down his right cheek. It seems to be following the path carved through his skin by a lengthy scar, drip-drip-dropping to its new home on the market street below. It’s clear that he has just come from enjoying a swim at the shore.

He introduces himself as Nyhwll Aloigné dhu’Lhyrandar of Luskan, tongue dripping in the glib satisfaction of a well-rehearsed and much-performed line.

" Spelt N-Y-H-W-L-L; rhymes with the concept of denial ,” he continues, “ I’ve about three years on the water, originally sailing with a crew up in the northern reaches of the Trackless Sea. Left them, obviously, but that’s of no real importance here in Kingsbay, is it? "

A gleam plays across the amber of his eyes, betraying an ulterior emotion. Perhaps it's anxiety, but the desperate sheen in them sings far more of fear than worry. Nyhwll is clearly not making an attempt to disguise this fact either way, keeping a strained smirk as he leans his forearm on the table’s edge.

“ I work hard and I love the sea, so you can count on me to carry my weight and more. Now, for my own sake, don’t go spreading this around, but salt and stormwater run in my blood. ”

Nyhwll raises an alabaster brow and opens his free hand with a practiced flourish.

Inside is what can be best described as an abstract storm system: gentle mist accompanied by delicate bolts of electricity that waltz from fingertip to fingertip, occasionally interplaying with the fog rolling through the spaces between. With another flourish, the small storm is nothing but dew and droplets along his palm once more. It was just a small display of prestidigitation, but Nyhwll hopes the trick will help his case anyway.

“ How many ships do you know with a genuine storm sorcerer onboard, much less on the crew? ”

At Kelthese's statement and offer, Captain Weatherworn rises and grasps the hand firmly. "Welcome aboard, then, and may your troubles be waving goodbye from the docks, when we leave! Master Glass, if you'd be so kind as to arrange a berth and position for this fine lad?"

Master Ripple ponders a bit, corner of his mouth pursed in thought, then he writes down a few words on a small parchment. "We'll have you bunk in a double, for now. I'd like to try you out with the armaments aboard, and see if your eye with a bow works for a ballista, hmm? If that doesn't work out, the mess could use a hand." You get placed in the cargo deck, room 8.

 The Water Genasi whom you now know as Master Ripple from other interviews shows marked interest in Nyhwll's demonstration and you can see sympathetic energies play across the semi-transparent surface of his skin. "With your permission, Captain?" Nodding at his mate, the Captain looks curiously on. 

"I could use a hand with the sails, Nyhwll. During lulls, my own nature as a ally of the Storm is called on, and I have to fill the sails with air from my magics. Do you have something usable in the same way?" As an example, he calls forth a light breeze, the steady wind lasting far long than any cantrip or ability you've seen before as it tousles the papers and nearby clothing. As he let's it fade, he looks to you for an answer. 

Opening his mouth to respond, but closing it with a shrug as she gets to playing, the barkeep keeps working unconcerned. S'ika's lackluster performance nets minimal interest initially, although as the night goes on either the imbibing or the playing improves enough to have some people tapping their feet and clapping their hands with the tunes. 

Kelly's berth is in the larger room with another 9 crewmen, in the bow. (Cargo deck, room 1) Multiple bunks line the walls although a couple are empty at the moment and the remaining crew eye him as he enters. Finding a empty bunk isn't much of an issue, as there are three unused (if you have a preference, tell me).Lockers at the base of each bunk for gear and a wall rack between the bunks for other equipment. 

Quote from GKnightBC >>

 

Kelly's berth is in the larger room with another 9 crewmen, in the bow. (Cargo deck, room 1) Multiple bunks line the walls although a couple are empty at the moment and the remaining crew eye him as he enters. Finding a empty bunk isn't much of an issue, as there are three unused (if you have a preference, tell me).Lockers at the base of each bunk for gear and a wall rack between the bunks for other equipment. 

 

OOC:

He'll probably find a bunk that's close to someone friendly-looking. Kelly's a gregarious guy, and he'll want to talk to someone to help him get his bearings in his new environment.

Any visual aids that we new players need? Diagrams of the ship, maps, pics of NPC crewmembers--that sort of stuff?

An old man pushes his way through the crowd of workers. The docks....just as busy as ever! His cane taps gently on the stones that eventually lead up to a wooden platform. "Hmm...let's see now. Gotta find it." He mumbles. His white and gray beard catch the wind just as the sun gleams off of his weatherworn bald head. It's shine, though, is blemished by a scar that spiders across one side of his head. The sign of some trauma long ago. The old man pats the sweat from it with a handkerchief. His clothing is well kept, but modest. A simple gray tunic with a belt around it, and well-fitted pants. It's the clothing and padding you'd expect to see beneath a heavy set of armor. The only other item of note is the long duffle like bag strung across his back with a thick leather strap that crosses over his shoulder and chest.

He reaches in to the tunic and produces a piece of parchment that looks like it's been unfolded and then re-folded too many times. "Hmmm Silken Keel. Silken Keel..." With a quick adjustment of his spectacles he scans the area. "Ah ha!" With a spring in his step and his destination in sight, he hops down from the platform and shuffles his way back through the crowd. After a several moments of getting lost in the buzz and sweat of the workers and traders, he finally manages to push his way through and stumbles right up to the plank leading to the Silken Keel!

Landris straightens himself out and gives a sharp solute, sticking out his chest. "Landris Weatherbronze Fig reporting for duty, sir!" A moment passes and he clears his throat "Assuming you'll have me that is, Captain." At that point he produces that worn and folded piece of parchment again. "I saw the flier! Recruiting for a sea voyage! How exciting! " He gives a sigh "The retired life just doesn't suit me, ya know? " Landris stamps his cane on the dock "Got too much life to live! I mean look at me! Retirement made me old!" He holds out his arms to accentuate the point. "And I can't have that! "

Nyhwll remains transfixed during the display, marveling at the strength and longevity of the gust. It was true that House Lhyrandar had an ancient bond with wind and sea, but it had been generations since their bloodline had seen magicks beyond that of a particularly skillful wind-whistler. Even Nyhwll, despite the unprecedented affinity for such in himself, has never seen the natural finesse with which Master Ripple conjured the breeze. He looks back at the pair, noticeably grinning now.  

" Get me near the water, and I can beckon the tides just as well as you called the wind right there! " He pauses for a moment, grin shifting into a contemplative look. " If that isn't what you're looking for, I do happen to have training in the art and science of cartography? I spent the majority of my youth under many a tutor's roof; All I require would be the chance to purchase a set of tools... Well, that and an evening to brush up on my skills! I won't lie, I am somewhat rusty... "

OOC - I've put a shared link for the Ship in the campaign notes. 

Xero - The crew look at this newcomer a bit curiously, unsure of the wisdom of hiring one of such age. Clearing his throat, the Captain speaks "With all respect, old-timer, you look like your days of climbing the rigging have been gone for quite a while. How can I depend on your arms at times of need?" He looks to you for a serious answer, his elven features pinched a bit.

Master Ripple nods "A working of the waves can help us when becalmed, that's true. If you are willing and able, I'd like to teach you the technique of sustaining the flow from Mystra to make such spells last a long time, just as my own spell just did. That would make your aid far more useful. Until we're at sea, then. You can bunk in the double on the cargo deck, berth 8. We'll find time to get you learning your duties and the skill later."

Landris straightens himself. "Don't right-off these old bones yet! " He  waves his cane at the Captain "Why, I was serving crown and country while most of this crew was still playin' around with toy boats and getting washed by their mamas!" Landris stamps his cane on the dock. "I may be an veteran, but that only means I've got the experience of a lifetime of service. And my arms still lift. My legs still kick! Plus I got a bit of that old magic to back me up, sonny!" With that, he rips a tear right into his own tunic. Then, slapping his hand over the tear, uses Mending to patch it back up. "There ya go! Like it never happened."

Rook's eyes grow wide as he witnesses the spectacle that is the Ramshackle.  Although he had seen all sorts of folk on the docks back home over the years, the diverse crowd here, lively energy and dancing dinnerware are more than he's seen all in one place before.  The nervous young man approaches the bar and takes a seat, waiting to make eye contact with one of the bartenders.  "Ah, hi....um, hi, I'm Rook!  Ah, I'm part of the crew of the Silken Keel!  Um, what, what do you think I should try to drink?  Haven't done this before.  What's good to start with?"  As the lad gets slightly more comfortable and the bar keep gets him a drink he asks "what news in this town?"  "What must I see while I'm here?  Any news from the sea?"

Between sets since Sika seems to get a modest response at first, Rook tries to encourage his new friend.  "That was good Sika.  You should play that one you played under the full moon a few nights ago!  That was my favorite so far!"

OOC Rook probably can't mechanically offer the Help action to Sika's performance in any way, but he will encourage her none the less.

"Well that could have gone better" She says to herself quietly. S;ika started to feel a little down, but after she heard Rook's words of encouragement, she perked up a little. "Alright. I think ill try that one then" Shes says to Rook.  Before she begins, she looks over the room. "This one is a special request from a crew member of the great Silken Keel!" As S'ika began to play, music notes starts floating around the tavern. "This will also be the last one for tonight folks. And remember, if you are longing for some adventure, or just want to get out of here, you can come on down to the Silken Keel!"

After she finishes, S'ika goes from table to table, attempting to make some friends, pick up on some rumors, and recruit for the ship. 

 Persuasion: 8

Performance: 23

Ooc: Im assuming we can still recruit? 

Bemused by the energy of his arguement, the Captain let's Landris rant for bit , then says "Oh, alright, sir. Come aboard and show us that your blood has salt enough to keep up with the young crew.We'll put you on the spars and sails, and you can manage the hands that rig 'em. Let that prove your mettle, and we'll talk after. Get aboard, find a bunk, and get to work."

Rook's attempt to make conversation with a barkeep goes reasonably well, although his age is met with a raised eyebrow and a shrug when he orders. A tall wooden mug of beer is tapped off a large keg mounted near the end of the bar and passed with practiced ease to set up in front of the boy. "Here, kid. This'll raise your body temperature a bit, but it'll feed you as well. Beer's always a good way to start yer career in drinking."   As he keeps trying to chat, the keep comes back now and then, feeding the newcomer both regular refills and quality lines of B.S.. Rumours of hordes of undead, cleric pogroms, a new Sundering and Tiamat's offspring invasion of the Moonshaes. Rook, his eyes widened with the florid descriptions of doom ringing from the bartender's agile tongue, offered in-between rounds.

S'ika's new attempt at crowd-pleasing with a more spiritedly tune brings more satisfying result. The crowd enjoys the tune, with a scattering of coins tossed up at the stand in appreciation. While none of the current audience seems at all interested in the offer of sailing aboard the keel, their enjoyment of her talents is apparent.  (13gp 5 sp total)

About an hour later, a fairly reasonably dressed dwarf approaches the bard when she sits (near Rook, perhaps?), and asks "You said ye'd some adventure on a ship. What kind of adventures have ye experienced, yet?" 

(Sorry for not posting for a while. Has Sal had any luck finding a temple?)

OOC - There was a post about the temple earlier

(Ah, missed that one line bit. In which case...)

Sal will be donating 100 gold to the church coffers (deducted already) as it is from her profits in order to help keep the temple going. She spends some time in prayer there, wishing for guidance after the visitation to a land where religious worship is prohibited. Once she has had some peace of mind, she'll leave the temple and head off to try and find Rook within town.

Sal's time in the temple are well spent. She finds that, upon leaving, her heart is a bit lighter and the day brighter. (+1 circumstance bonuses to any saves done for 24 hours.)

(Hooray)

Sal will head towards the tavern that Rook pointed out earlier. She isn't much of a drinker, but has had a little to get used to the standard that other sailors aspire to have. She ensures her armour is strapped correctly and her money pouch is secured in the inner pocket of her cloak before entering to look for the hexblade.

S'ika looks over the dwarf with a wide smile. "Why yes indeed. We have traveled a fair distance since i've been here. Just recently we fought off a Sahuagin attack. I heard that before I came there was another huge attack. All this in one week. Sounds great if you like fighting.  I wonder whats going to happen next. If that doesn't suit you, there is a lot of trade opportunity. So far ive made 500 plus gold. Gold." S'ika grew visually more excited, but gave herself a few seconds to call down. "But hey, that doesn't matter. What matters, is what you do when you get the opportunity. On the Silken Keel, opportunity is all around. S'ika hold out her hand towards the dwarf. "So what do ya say? Join our marry band for some adventure?" Not a second later, S'ika spoke up again. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name"

Persuasion:17

Oocc: Yes. I am sitting near Rook.

Rook attentively absorbs all of the tails the barkeep is willing to share, his bloodstream doing the same for one of his very first nights of drinking.  He is appreciative of the man's willingness to tell him the tales and tips well.  As the dwarf approaches Sika the young man takes his mug and moves a bit closer to see what exactly it is that this dwarf has taken an interest in.

When he sees Sal walk through the door he gets excited and runs over, sloshing his latest full mug around a bit.  Slurring his words just a little thus far, Rook rapidly starts telling Sal about the tales from the barkeep, Sika's success with her last song, and about the dwarf that has approached their crew mate, all in a very animated fashion.

Sal chuckles, "Easy, Rook. One step at a time. Come, let us get a seat somewhere in this place." She will try and guide the slightly inebriated warlock to a chair before prompting him to find out what he would like to drink.

The Dwarf grasps S'ika's hand firmly and shakes it, not letting go for a bit longer than comfortable . "Oh, I'm not lookin' for passage, I'm lookin' for help. My clan Stoneheart has a little problem that will take more than a hammer or two to work out, and I needs me some intrepid, experienced talent to settle things. I'm Dagrim Stoneheart, clan talker with the surface. Our clan homes in the next port North, and we've been stopped from our farms aboveground in one valley we own. There be some weird 'things' goin' on in the valley, and all our own magic seems to not find the cause. We've tried lots o' different traps and hunters, but none work to find the cause. I've been allowed to offer a sizable reward to any and all who succeed in freeing up the valley. If yer in, I'll buy passage aboard, and guide you to our home." during this speech, he pauses to dodge the slight splash of suds from Rook's mishap, but doesn't deter him from the rest of his offer. "Whattdya say? "