Lexicon — Roleplayer Guild

Helgus
The Crow's Nest

Sigrun watched the bizarre-looking plane touch down on the UIS Garrloch's landing pad, her mouth hanging open. The vessel looked like something out of a madman's fever dream, but it cut through the air with undeniable fluidity and grace. Grinning eagerly, Sigrun picked up her burlap sack, which held her canvas doctor's bag and other personal effects, and began climbing down from the Garrloch's crow's nest. She'd spent most of her time aboard the UINC's newest exploratory vessel relaxing, easing herself into a meditative state her people referred to as the golvar or "calm mind." The morning had been hectic to say the least, and Sigrun didn't want to miss essential information or details about her fellow crew members. The golvar, an ancient Ysmirod technique used to still the mind, also focused the senses outward, encouraging careful observation and awareness of one's surroundings. Many valarjar entered the golvar before battle so they'd be less likely to overlook important details.

Clutching her bag tightly as she reached the ship's cold metal deck, Sigi stepped aside to avoid a mob of deckhands rushing towards the newly arrived plane and started heading in the direction of the upper deck. She'd actually been the third person to arrive that morning, but, instead of heeding Captain Conway's orders to join the others, Sigrun had done a little exploring. Perhaps the UIS Garrloch held something the Moot would be interested in? Something she'd be able to claim as her avallach? The inquisitive Ysmirod had stumbled into what looked like an engine room, a mess hall, and a chamber that was completely empty for no apparent reason before finding the ladder leading to the crow's nest. The Garrloch wasn't as big as she'd originally thought, but it was still an unfamiliar place. Sigrun intended to learn every square inch of the ship as soon as possible. One could never be too prepared before sailing off into the unknown. As she shoved her way through what felt like an endless sea of sweaty UINC attendants, mariners, and DOC employees, Sigrun's smile grew wider, stretching from one side of her angular face to the other.

And to think she'd spent the previous night sleeping on the ground.

*

Once she'd found the Doherty Outreach Center, or DOC, Sigrun had spent some of Svanrige's money on a few inexpensive items. A new long-sleeved gray shirt, a pair of black linen slacks, and a used bronze chronometer only cost her thirty-seven Canthican royals. It was still the most money the Ysmirod outcast had ever spent on herself. With her shopping done, she'd prowled the area surrounding the DOC, hoping to find a reasonably priced room for the night. Unfortunately, her forty remaining Canthican royals were barely enough to afford a well-cooked steak let alone a place to stay. Everything was so much more expensive in Canth then in Ghersland. 

Sigrun had started considering the benefits of sleeping in an alley when she found a beautiful, if somewhat small, park with ornate metal gates and a sign out front. The sign had the following message written on it in cheery red font: 'Welcome to Azure Blossom Park, citizen! This is a place of relaxation and recuperation for the hardworking men and women of the Doherty Outreach Center! The general public is not permitted to enter! Have a spectacular day!"

The folly of the helgus never ceased to amaze Sigrun. Did they actually believe a sign would be enough to keep people out of this place? There hadn't been any guards nearby so she'd strolled into the park and spent the rest of the day organizing her medical supplies while looking for a safe spot to lay her head.

Her chronometer's alarm woke her at nine-thirty the next morning, the morning of the UIS Garrloch's departure, and Sigrun had jolted into awareness, a hazy, unnerving dream fading into the back of her mind. She'd grown used to the nightmares. At least, that's what she told herself. Besides, who could worry about some half-remembered dream on a day like today? She'd been decidedly less thrilled to see a yellow, three-legged dog sniffing at her pants with the obvious intent of peeing all over her. Swatting at the mutt's nose with one hand, Sigrun said, "Away, fool hind! Go find a tree to piss on. There's at least a dozen within spitting distance. Go on!"

The dog had whimpered, obviously concerned by Sigrun's lack of interest in being covered in pee, while the Ysmirod picked up her burlap sack and stretched. She'd been surprised that local law enforcement hadn't found her sleeping between the overgrown rose bushes at the rear of the park, but she wasn't about to question her good fortune. With the three-legged dog trotting happily behind her, Sigrun had brushed herself off and jogged towards the park's black metal gates, her mind whirling as she imagined all the unusual places and people she'd see as a member of the Garrloch's crew.

That's when a man and a woman, each one wearing a disheveled navy blue DOC uniform, had stumbled out of a nearby gardenia bush.

Completely ignoring Sigrun, probably because she was still wearing her ragged traveling clothes, the man, whose preposterous blonde mustache and crooked nose suggested a habit of making terrible life decisions, said, "Five times, Lollys, my duck! Can you believe that?! And I was drunk as a skunk, too. God and ground, I'm amazing, I tell you! More impressive than any ship."

The woman, a red-haired girl that was at least two feet taller than her rotund companion, had responded with an insincere smile and said, "Oh yes, Eustace, you're a real credit to the Garrloch name. Your father must be so proud. But it's already nine-thirty, and we won't make it to our posts at the DOC's front doors in time if we don't move it. I bet that asshole, Walter, is already letting someone into the outreach center that has no business being there. I know he's trying to make a living for himself, but...ugh, never mind. Fucking pencil pusher. Let's just go."

The two DOC attendants had staggered along the park's white cobblestone path, their eyes glazed and faces dripping with sweat, unaware that Sigrun was following them at a distance. These two drunkards obviously worked at the DOC so they should be able to tell her where to go once they arrived. Sigrun had no intention of getting lost and missing the Garrloch's departure. They'd formed a bizarre procession of sorts, two hungover Canthicans with a stormborn trailing behind them. And a three-legged dog, who just seemed excited to be alive, bringing up the rear. After a great deal of moaning and the occasional pause to vomit, the foursome reached the Doherty Outreach Center a little after nine-forty five. 

"Hurry up, Eustace!" the woman, Lollys, had snapped once the two attendants reached the DOC's glass doors. "I'll clock us in, but you need to stand watch." This announcement had earned her a hearty smack on the rump, and, after rolling her eyes and sighing, Lollys started to open the door. Sigrun had moved to follow her, only to feel a meaty hand drop onto her shoulder. The combined odors of sweat, booze, and vomit had washed over her like some unspeakably foul tide.

"Hold on there, my filthy friend," Eustace said as he'd shoved Sigrun back a few steps. "Where do you think you're going, hm? This is the Doherty Outreach Center, not the...uhhh...wait, I had something for this. Uhh..."

Ignoring the red-faced fool's rambling, Sigrun had stood up to her full height and said, "My name is Sigrun Alfhild, and I'm the UIS Garrloch's field medic. Let me pass." 

Lollys, who'd paused in the middle of opening the door to watch the confrontation, blinked and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from one of her jacket pockets. Her gaze had darted from the paper to Sigrun then back to the paper, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

Eustace, on the other hand, had burst into loud, braying laughter and said, "Oh? Well, I'm the king of fucking Maru. Kiss my foot, peasant, and then piss off! We're far too busy improving life as you know it to deal with idiot beggars."

Sigrun's dark blue eyes had flashed with irritation, but she'd inclined her head and said, her voice dripping with sincerity, "Your Majesty, it's an honor to meet you and may I say you are quite brave. Inspiring, really."

Eustace had blinked rapidly and said, "Wait, uhhh...how am I brave, exactly?"

"If my face was even half as repulsive as yours I wouldn't have the courage to show it in public. King or otherwise."

Nobody had said anything for several minutes. Then Lollys started giggling and said, her voice breathy as she fought to regain her composure, "Ohhh, she got you good, Eustace! Anyway, she's on the personnel form we got from Conway the other day. She's all clear to come inside." She'd gestured for Sigrun to follow her and said, "Come along, Miss Alfhild, the Drop is the quickest way down to the Garrloch. It's on the way to the time clock so I'll take you with me."

Eustace and the three-legged dog had just watched in utter shock as the two women entered the DOC building. The massive concrete and metal structure was already teeming with people running around on various errands, but Lollys had navigated the chaos with ease. Sigrun had stayed close to her until Lollys pointed to a door off to the left and waved goodbye before scuttling down another corridor. The Ysmirod had opened the door and was greeted by a mousy attendant with a perpetual smirk on his tanned face. "Welcome to the Drop, miss," he said as he'd pointed towards the room's only chair, which had several black straps attached to it. "Go ahead and take a seat so I can strap you in."

Sigrun had obeyed and, once she was secured in her seat with her baggage on her lap, the man saluted halfheartedly and pressed three buttons. Taking a breath and failing to look even slightly interested in what he was doing, he'd said, "Arms in, head straight. Don't move, and try not to scream. Clock in once you hit the ground. Good luck or whatever."

And then Sigrun had plummeted downwards, her blonde hair whipping around her face as the turquoise sky overhead seemed to merge with the the heaving blue ocean below. Holding her bag in a death grip, the stormborn exile had thrown back her head and screamed, "Chaaaggaaa!" It was her people's word for "shit," though she'd said it with a smile. Nothing she'd dreamed of on the road from Ghersland to Canth could've prepared her for this. It was beyond words. All too soon the journey had ended, leaving her at sea level with shining eyes and trembling legs. When another navy-clad attendant moved to assist her, she'd asked, "Could I go again? Chagga, that was...that was..."

The DOC employee shook his head and said, while he deftly unstrapped her, "Lollys radioed ahead to tell us you were coming, Miss Alfhild. The Garrloch is the third boat on your right. Just listen for the shouting. That'll be Captain Conway. Have fun with that one." Sigrun had waited until her legs stopped shaking before clambering out of her seat and walking down the dock, her boots clomping loudly against the weathered wooden boards. She hadn't gone far when she heard what sounded like two cave bears in heat. Or two very angry men shouting at each other.

"Valdez, we already have plenty o' alcohol rations fer the crew onboard!" a dark-haired sailor roared at a slender, cringing man wearing rumpled coveralls and a greasy shirt. A wooden barrel with the words 'Old Faithful' painted on it in sloppy green letters rested on the dock between them. "We don't need that Maruvian swill ye love so much on the UINC's new toy. I'm still dealin' with the authorities on account o' that little fire ye started the last time ye had too much to drink. And who are ye supposed to be?" This last question had been directed at Sigrun, and she'd bowed her head in an authentic show of respect. This was obviously Captain Conway, the helgus who'd be leading the UIS Garrloch's crew.

Holding up her burlap sack, she'd said, "I'm your medic, Captain Conway. Sigrun Alfhild." 

The captain had simply grunted and said, "Go ter the upper deck. That's where ye lot are gathering and...and I see ye trying to sneak that barrel onboard, Valdez, ye fuckin' prick! Either ye get rid o' that shit and get yer pimply arse to the engine room or I'll crush that rotten coconut ye call a skull with me bare hands!" Sigrun had to admit she was impressed by Conway's authoritative demeanor and powerful voice, but he was still a helgus. A stern and unyielding one, though. She'd squeezed past a nervous-looking Valdez, trotted up the gangplank, and boarded the Garrloch proper. At some point over the next half hour of sticking her nose into places it didn't belong, she'd found time to change into her new garments. While she didn't necessarily care what these outsiders thought of her, a good first impression never hurt anybody.

*
The Upper Deck

Finally, Sigrun emerged onto the upper deck, a warm breeze ruffling her short blonde hair and exposing the spiral branded onto her forehead. She looked skeptically at the assembled crew. Would any of these people be useful to her? Would they be able to hold their own in battle or help her find a worthwhile avallach? Only time would tell, and if Sigrun had learned anything over the years it was that life was full of surprises. And most were unpleasant. She sidled around the two arguing women, one of whom was apparently named Luna, and the reporter before making her way to the ship's railing. Leaning against the railing and taking a deep breath, savoring the heady aromas of the sea, the Ysmirod looked out towards the horizon. She was ready to get underway. She was ready to go home.
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