Trumann asks the children to hurry and gather what empty containers they can.

With the appearance of some empty containers, Trumann gives the cook and the children a sheepish look and quietly begins to pray to himself while running his wide spread hands over the containers. The normally shy and careful face becomes serene and serious. 

My Lady, hard times have come upon us. Please grant me the strength to help ease the pain and suffering of these poor people who are simply victims of the great evil afoot. I plead with you to allow your humble servant to access your gifts and allow your power to flow through this vessel. Guiding those through the Darkness. 

As he finished the small prayer the containers fill with 45 pounds of food and 30 gallons of fresh water. As per the create food and water spell. Trumann looks over to the cook through his eyelashes. 

"I hope this will help, I am going to head above deck and see if anyone needs any medical attention. I will return before dinner and do this again. Sorry for interrupting" Trumann stares at the weathered floor boards avoiding eye contact ad he shuffles hurriedly out of the galley.

Con save 6

"We have discussed this before." The head engineer, a rock gnome with spiked olive hair adorned with goggles on her forehead tells Tvon'ii. "We are not attempting any ad-hoc 'upgrades' when we have hundreds of civilians on a survival transportation mission. If we were back in the shipyard and with a spare vessel, maybe, but no experimental changes to the ship. That's final." The gnome reaches into a pocket of her padded jacket, retrieving a pocket watch. "I'm off shift in an hour, but if I wake up and find an iota of that machine has been tinkered with..." She raises a finger of a mechanical arm, perfectly articulated with brass plating over the exterior, with a finger pointed at the elf. 

The chef looks to Trumann's contributions. "Well it'll add a little on the side to some meals." She says, attempting to sound positive. "Conjured food's never as good as the original, though. Thanks, big guy. Hey, hey!" The chef then turns her attention to the children, one of which has just taken a bite out of a peeled carrot. "Who said you could eat that!?" She immediately has her focus on scolding the child, leaving Trumann to continue about his duties.

"I'll expect your re-consideration when we are burning our clothes and dead for fuel." The elf gives a reasonably respectful bow. "Farewell Head engineer." He adds in gnomish.

Tvon'ii walks to the side of the deck stuffing his handy work back into his pack with some care. He hits the railing of the ship in a huff next to Smokey. It is only then he realizes the state of himself and grumbles louder. After a few flourishes and incantations he de-soils his clothing though he doesn't take the time to mend them yet. He'll take care of that when they are below deck again.

"Smokey, I'm half tempted to go down and integrate this thing myself. At this rate we're bound to run out of power and drift our way straight to starvation. Or worse, into some maelstrom that'll tear us apart to the bone." He takes his water and downs it in a gulp while looking out at the vast, undrinkable ocean.

While the engines are cooling down, Gnoll disappears (more then usuell). But from time to time a giant tentacle appears next to the row boats and drops fresh fish into them. The first time it happened it scared the sailors like crazzy, but after several days, they got used to the daily help. 

@Gnoll

Feel free to make a Wisdom (Survival) check with advantage.

23

By the time the sun is setting, the group are regrouping again. All fairly exhausted and famished from their day of work (Trumann suffering a point of exhaustion), they slump around a table in the mess hall. Apparently there is a prized catch of swordfish being rumoured around the hall that the captain is planning to share with the officers tonight, but the group is being treated to a steamed mackerel meal tonight. (This fact can be confirmed by the benevolent octopus that managed to claim the beast with advanced multi-limbed wrestling, but who can speak octopus?)

The group's mutual roommate, Smokey, arrives to meet the group. "Honestly, how do the decks get muddy when we've been at sea for three solid weeks?" He asks rhetorically as he collapses onto the bench beside the others. "You'd think that we'd got rid of all the dirt in this floating tin can by now." 

Krast gives the food an appraising look and takes a bite. "It's conjured. Fun fact, all conjured food is actually the same summoned nutrient substance. The core spell was developed centuries ago and when you strip away the styling of each caster it just makes a dull flavorless paste. The magic just tricks your senses into thinking it is the flavor of what it looks like. Given that it is wholesome foods, veggies and the like, I'd say this is a clerical derivation of the spell." He makes a movement inside his mouth as if tasting the remnants of food. "That sort of tingling metallic taste is the residium. The lingering effect of magic trying to disperse from your taste buds. I was always surprised that the base formula for the spell didn't have more sigils for illusory magics."

The elf continues to eat for a bit in silence. Given that he'd barely heard a word from his Battlesmith compatriot and is fairly eager to share a conversation with an Artificer he decided to press a little. "Given the Iron Defender, you're in the Battlesmith's Corps right? Were you at the Battle of Durrin Pass?"

Gnoll doesn‘t eat anything, he actually offers his share to anyone who might look hungry. For the whole journey he had only eaten half portions of breakfast, from what you have seen. 

Tvon'ii follows the gnome's look of concern, "Eh, he'll be alright I think. He's been eating small portions the whole trip. By my guess he's sneaking goodberries or doing a little side fishing." He shrugs a little, "Though I'm not very familiar with goblin folk's digestive tracts, maybe they just don't eat much?"

After the dismissal he returns to the conversation at hand by pulling his blade from its sheath and holding the pommel toward Mord. The elf seems fairly proud of it. "A blade of the Royal Order d'Averro. This one was forged for me by the Bladesingers but I never had a knack for their ways of combat. And yes I was there. My unit wasn't there in the pass directly though, we had been sent to cut off the retreat. But I've heard from many that the Battlesmith's took as hard as they gave. Really saved a lot of lives that day. My unit, on the other hand, simply laid waste from the vantage point." Tvon'ii chuckles a little remembering the devastating Daverro victory while returning the sword to its home. "I'd never seen a rout so frantic. They really had no idea."

Lost in sharing a story with a fellow soldier, he almost missed that his voice was carrying a little more. He looks around noticing a few Sarroka looking at him with unamused faces. "Yea, I guess none of that matters now eh?" Tvon'ii looks around for a second and gives a nod of reverence. The Sarroka were misguided in their views but they have always been fierce and proud warriors. Only a inexperienced soldier has no respect for his enemies.

Trumann looks up from his meal, with a sad look in his eyes. Glances at Mord's scar, and down at presented blade. He sighs heavily his gaze drifting between the two. 

 "So many sent to the other side too early, so many eager to send then there. Busy were the temples and tents of the healers. My Queen was the busiest, more souls than even the High Raven can ever remember needed passage across the void. I was in charge of triage, clerics of other faiths struggle with deciding who can be healed and who is ready to move on. All I can remember is the endless lines of wounded brought to us every day. And Her constant whispers in my ears. Not his time, this one is ready, he can be healed, too far gone..." 

Trumann startles suddenly and then his cheeks redden, his gaze goes back to the food in front of him. "And this food was a gift from her" he mutters into his plate. 

"From what I heard they have special spells that preserved food." Smokey mentions between mouthfuls to Krast. He swallows. "Then again, I guess conjuring food from nowhere explains how they feed so many of us for so long." He looks down to what little food remains before shovelling it into his mouth.

The ship then shudders, causing people stood up to have to grab a hold of something to prevent themselves from falling over. It is not unusual for strong waves to cause the ship to sway, but that felt more blunt and direct. The people in the mess hall begin to look to one another, several conversations of panicked whispers going around.
"What was that?"
"Dunno, didn't feel anything like that so far."
"Not even when those shark riding monsters attacked."
"No... That was something else."

After about thirty seconds, the mess hall doors burst open, another shudder on the ship. "Any strong-armed come with us!" Calls the boatswain, a goliath with pale grey skin and dark brown birthmarks. "We need to move cargo, fast!"
Five other folk in the mess hall, all looking quite well built, but slightly fatigued from working all day. One of them asks the boatswain, "What is it?"
"Dragon turtle." The goliath replies. "Apparently the guardian of Propsain didn't like a warship being the first ship to arrive."
More panicked mumbles come from the room.

Tahia's eyes get big in her head as Krast explains the magical origin of the food she's been eating. "Clerics can perform magic like that? I've never seen anything like that -- I certainly can't do that."

(room for a little more conversation before the ship shudders, if anyone wants)

Tahia turns to listen as the boatswain comes down. "I'm sure there's plenty stronger than me here, but I can work a block and tackle as well as anyone."

"If you can't carry the good, get the path clear." The boatswain tells the group. "Literally clearing the path and getting any stragglers out of the way. The rest of you, come with me."

Test Skill Challenge!

So the party is now aiding in getting a load of cargo to the top deck ASAP to appease a disgruntled dragon turtle. We need people to help carry the heavy cargo (offerings) up there ASAP, as well as people clearing them a path.

Feel free to say which party you are going with and how you want to help. I'll ask you to perform a skill check based on how you act.

"Alright you heard the man, children and anyone that can't help above deck back to your cabins. Move quickly and quietly so that the crew can hear orders!" Tvon'ii holds himself as a person used to giving commands. Usually just having a presence as someone that is supposed to be in charge works for the general public and he hoped that held true here.  He quickly conjures the illusion of an arrow above the door pointing towards the cabins, away from the deck. "If you aren't helping with the crew, follow the arrows back toward the cabins!"

Tvon'ii: make a Charisma (Arcana) check. (Yeah, curveball, mixing up them abilities and proficiencies...)

Charisma (Arcana): 18