"Ah, come on, Smokey, what're you gonna do with money on this boat anyhow?" Tahia says. She's trying to be persuasive, but only halfheartedly, knowing she's not very good at it. "Gotta be something better than that. What do you have on the duty roster?"

 "Just tryin' ta be smart." Smokey mentions, pouring the dice into his pouch. "We're gonna need coin when we land, and I didn't have much to begin with." He chuckles. "Lucky I got stuck with some folk who don't know how to play cards well." He looks to Tahia. "Guess I'll go a round. If you break my finger, I might get out of deck mopping duty, hehe." He holds his hand out for a thumb wrestle.

Smokey's Acrobatics: 11

"Sure. I win this, we call it even for now?" She grasps his hand.

Acrobatics: 15

"Ah, okay, I give!" Smokey laughs as his gangly digits cannot keep up with the superior reflexes of Tahia. "Man, there's no way I can catch quick fingers like yours. Guess it's a halfling thing, being quick and nimble."

There is a loud banging on the cabin door. "Ten minutes 'til shift!" Calls through a gruff deep tone that the group recognises as Durgonn, who keeps the rotas going.

"Man, Stoner never lets us have a lie in." Smokey complains somewhat jokingly as he goes to collect his pack, ready to move out and go on shift whilst someone else uses the bunk for a few hours.

She laughs. "Quick enough." Tahia turns to Gnoll. "A round as well, friend? Don't know if we have time for three." She wiggles both her thumbs at him.

The Goblin nimble jumps down and takes Tahias hand:

"Ready, Set,..." 

Athletics 15

"Go!"

Acrobatics: 10

"Close!" Tahia says. "You'll beat me next time, for sure!"

"Pardon me, excuse me, sorry" 

Trumann carefully picks his way through the room, making sure his massive frame does not bump into anyone as he makes his way to the door. Deftly using his trunk to gently maneuver anyone in his way. 

A small smile passes between his tusks as he thinks about the children that will "scare" him today as he makes his rounds. 

Turmann manages to clamber across the packed room with his things to go start morning rituals. After another couple of minutes, another heavy handed banging on the door occurs for those still in there. "Get yer keesters out of there, or it's half rations today!" The call comes through from Durgonn.

The group heads down for some food, finding themselves and the fifty others on their shift making their way to queue up for whatever remnants of food are being passed out today. This morning has fortune favouring the group, as it is vegetable broth and some dry bread. Quite a princely breakfast in comparison to the past five days' meals.

(What sort of tasks are you occupied with today? Are your tasks anything specific, or are you working as a usual able bodied sailor for the time being?)

After Durgonn's first warning, Tvon'ii turns sharply on his heel towards the bunk. His servant closes and raises the book. In a single motion the elf sweeps the book out of the unseen servant's hand and secures it into his bag. The servant disperses immediately, leaving just the floating sphere of the familiar. As he starts re-equipping his sword, Themis floats to Tvon'ii's shoulder and lands on two small bird-like feet that emerge from the bottom. 

Tvon'ii finishes his routine of gearing up with practiced ease and is on the heels of Turmann as the Loxodon moves to leave the cabin. There's a little spring in Tvon'ii's step at the prospect of testing his improvements to the arcane elements of the ship's propulsion systems. While shuffling through the halls a few of the 'local' children made their first attempts to startle the good spirited cleric. A few others sheepishly approached Tvon'ii and hold up a couple of small paper pin-wheels he had made them last week. They were broken and crumpled beyond typical repair. Tvon'ii let out an exaggerated sigh. He didn't want them to think he was too eager to fix their trinkets. "Mr. Krast...they broke again."

The mage snatched them up and made a show of pulling his sleeves back before cupping his hands around the toys and whispering ominous arcane incantations. With a little showmanship he produces them again, mended. He gives them an appraising look as he kneels down and out of the way of the hallway traffic. "I think they'll only hold up for maybe one more repair and we don't have supplies to make more. So try to be more careful with them this time." The children grabbed them up quickly but with at least a little mindfulness and totter off. Tvon'ii stands with a little smirk on his face and continues on to the propulsor assembly.

At the sight of the well used mechatronics, he pulls on his work gloves and his smile spreads a little wider.

"I suppose I can offer my assistance, though the threat of half rations is slightly less effective on one without a true stomach." Ace says with a bit of a chuckle though his mechanical facial expression doesn't change. The Warforged offers his share of food to whichever nearby refugee appears the most malnourished/still hungry after getting their share (Which as a note unless they get after him for it Ace will do the same thing with every meal, just donate his share to one of the refugees). The mechanical gunslinger will make his way around the ship, offering to aid anyone needing repairs on anything mechanical or general ship maintenance as needed.

OOC: Since he is proficient with Smith's Tools and Tinker's tools, and expertise with Tinker's tools given that they are his Integrated tool, whether it's the ship or attempting to help repair little toys or trinkets Ace will just offer his services as he can. If you want some rolls for those shall do so.

Korvek followed the group, eating his share quickly and going off to train his body once more. Either by helping with the sailors or practicing his swings in the open. He doesn't talk much except to ask where he can help or if he's asking for some space to practice. He tries to avoid children as he's not accustomed to caring for the young. He tends to make way for their play as he does his tasks.

Tahia eats slowly, trying to make the meal last. It's been a hard struggle to adapt to the scant availability of food on the ship. She uses half the bread to sop up every last drop of broth, and stashes the other half away for later. She takes the lookout post when she has the evening shift, and assumes she'll take the same now unless she hears otherwise. She's been assigned regular scut work a few times, and it's worked out well enough, if boring.

Trumann tries as inconspicuously as he can to slips into the galley. He approaches the cook. "Excuse me good sir, if you have some extra barrels or boxes? Perhaps I could be of some small assistance."  He shuffles side to side embarrassed at any extra attention.   

The group splits up for the day, all working on their usual tasks. With some working below decks, ensuring that the engines keep running smoothly, they are informed that they are running short on the fuel used to power these industrial vessels. Rather than use magic, the engines consume minerals, such as coal, and break them down into basic components, almost like a mundane variation of transmutation. They reckon they have enough for about four days of travel, then they will be at the whims of the tide once again.

The children are as rambunctious as ever, trying to find new hiding holes for their games, a couple getting in trouble as they attempted to climb into the ventilation system. However, kids generally get a bit of leniency given the situation and trying not to let it impact their delicate minds; if they do get in trouble, they are sent down to the kitchens to help peel potatoes or other menial tasks for an hour.

As the day progresses, the ship becomes much warmer. It has become commonplace over this last week, as the ship's travel south has taken into a more temperate climate. At high noon the engines are shut down to cool and give the engineers a break, whilst small groups are sent in the rowboats in an attempt to catch some fish to restock the larders slightly. The children usually spend that time playing on the top deck, playing catch with some toy balls they brought from back home. Occasionally it goes overboard, and one of the sailors ends up abseiling down the battleship's hull in order to collect it for them. 

During the group's lunch break, they reconvene and are given large glasses of water to ensure they keep hydrated. Smokey wanders in, sweat soaking his shirt. "At least... some of you are working below deck." He says, waiting impatiently for his fill.

In the meantime, Trumann slips over to the galley, finding three kids working only halfheartedly on the surprisingly fresh looking vegetables. The chef with them is an elf woman donning the usual chef's attire with her light brown hair tied back and netted. "Barrels?" She replies to Trumann's query, her hazel eyes piercing. "Yes, there are barrels." Her tone is of slight annoyance, perhaps from having to babysit whilst cooking for the hundreds on the ship. "The empty ones are taken to the cargo hold. I hear they may be dismantling them to fuel the engines." She twirls a sharp knife between her fingers, stopping it to point towards a reinforced door. "If you're here to help with the cooking, bring a bushel of beets, we'll get started on them."

(Can everyone make a DC 10 Constitution Saving Throw for their efforts over the rest of the day, failure is 1 level of exhaustion.)

CON save: 20

Con save: 14

Con save: 11

Con save 5

People emerging from the bowels of the ship find Tvon'ii in a semi-heated conversation with the lead engineer of The Dutchess. The elf is covered from head to toe in soot with fresh rips in his sleeves and jacket. His eyes look a little wild given the two perfectly clean rings of skin surrounding them from his goggles. He's holding some sort of apparatus that looks like it was ripped from the heart of a golem. He is pointing at parts as he fervently explains its use. 

"Look all I'm asking is that you leave the engines down for the rest of the afternoon so we can install this." Now was the time to propose his invention. It hasn't been easy over the past week to craft. Not having access to the full breadth of the spell library at Krast Laboratories was the first problem. As well as having to scavenge the discarded iron ties from old barrels, melting down some of his own coin for the arcano-conductive portions, not to mention sacrificing one of his foci crystals. Of course, those things would do him no good if he died at sea.

Scribing runes for Absorb Elements, Shield, and Alarm into channels around the foci should allow the device to replace some if not all of the power being lost to the engines since they stopped burning processed fuel. However, anyone that was able to cast fire magic would need to do so every 8 hours to charge the furnace depending on the strength of the spell. The alarm runes were the fail safes in case someone got over zealous in their casting and the system needed to vent the excess energy externally to the hull. All in all it was much safer than his first idea that would have used the remaining powder from the left over munitions.

"Worst case scenario, we lose a quarter day of powered motion and I lose my work. Best case, we extend the speed and life of the engines at least a fortnight. I think the fellows that I share a cabin with have all the skills needed to get this done." Tvon'ii pauses for a second before continuing, "I'm sure they would all be happy to help." He hadn't talked this over with the group he shared a tenuous relationship with but he needed to get access to the furnace before he dealt with that issue.

((Con Save: 5))