Pascal

After the End

Amos and Rhys- 1 week on boat

Rhys didn’t think he would take to the boat well. He knew that was one of the less pleasant parts of this whole journey. In the woods, he could feign needing to go off to his own place to do things like relieve himself. But on a ship, it was sufficiently more difficult. He made it work, however, keeping odd hours and waiting for others to pass before going. His body would never match what he knew he was meant to be, but this the most free he had been in a long time. It wasn’t like at home, where everyone looked at him sideways for wanting to be a certain way. Here, he was accepted—even if it was only because they didn’t know.

It took a few days for him to get used to the movements of the ship and its occupants. He found himself fascinated by the position of lookout, the person who climbed the ropes like they were as solid as the earth, and perched atop the ship, swaying in the breeze. There were two or three responsible for the duty, taking shifts, but they were all built similarly to Rhys. They were taller, but thin and lanky as well. It was something that he might be able to do, one day. Right now he had a mission, but he wouldn’t mind learning more about how to watch for dangers on the sea.

Though he didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the crew, he found himself rather interested in the various knots that were used on different parts of the ship. As a trapper, he occasionally used knots in the forest, but for very different purposes. Though the men were more keen on playing cards and drinking, he found that a few were willing to show him some of the knots, if it meant passing off some work to him as well. Rhys didn’t mind, it kept him busy, and he liked to learn.

He was taught the secure double overhand knot, which he recognized to be almost the same as a poacher’s knot he learned some time ago. That one he picked up quickly, and he moved on to another. One knot that he thought was particularly interesting was called a butterfly loop. It allowed for a loop in the middle of a rope that could hold weight, and pulling on the ends didn’t loosen it.

Rhys usually tried to depart from the room in the morning, since Amos usually sat in there and worked on his…whatever it was, but about a week in he found himself staying in the bunk as well. The weather was a bit dreary, and the deck was crowded, so he sat on the small bed, working with a small section of rope given to him by one of the crew. He sat quietly for a while before it occurred to him that Amos wasn’t really working on anything at the moment. As a matter of fact, he didn’t look terribly well. “Amos…are you okay?” Rhys asked after a while. They hadn’t really spoken much, apart from initial introductions and such. He had spoken with most of the others even less. He saw when Amos stitched some guy’s head after he got hurt, and found it rather interesting. The man seemed quite skilled, and he was glad to have the man on the journey. Consequently, seeing him ill was far from reassuring.

The sea wasn't kind to Amos, or his stomach. He had spent a lifetime on solid land. To have it ripped away from him for such a while was bound to wretch his stomach, but so far he had managed not to embarrass himself by a spilling his lunch over the balcony. Not just yet. In the meantime, he managed to hone his skills on a stomach-easing brew, but his typical recipes seemed to be rendered inert by the salt in the air. It was a grueling process to see which ingredient needed less than the others to account for the sea, and the man with the injured head was a great mental break from the process.

As he took one of his breaks and focused on calming his stomach, he heard Rhys' voice cut through the ambient sounds of the sea below them. Amos hadn't talked much to any of the other passengers, and hearing one of them was still a rare occurrence. Especially to reach out in kindness. Amos wasn't surprised it was Rhys, though. Out of the other passengers, he seemed the most open.

"It's just the sea," Amos said, sitting up and working once again at the concoction ahead of him. He only had a few more tries to get it right before he'd need to start conserving his resources. "I'm trying to fix it in a way I know how to...but, even alchemy has it's limits."

Amos turned his head and gave Rhys a smile. "What about you? You take to the sea well?"

Rhys lowered the knot into his lap and gave the man his full attention as Amos went on about his salves…or something. He didn’t entirely understand, and he didn’t expect Amos to launch into a tutorial. “Apparently.” Rhys replied with a nod. “I’ve never been on the sea. There were lots of rumors where I grew up that buying passage on a ship was really buying your own way into slavery, so I stayed away.” He explained. “But the view on deck is beautiful, when the weather isn’t dreary. And the knots are similar to ones I know for trapping.” He holds up the rope he had been messing with briefly as an example.

“So…what drove you to take this journey?” Rhys asked. “Looking for new herbs to make salves and things?” He was mostly making the suggestion in jest, but he was genuinely curious about the other man.

Amos nodded at Rhys' answer. He seemed...happy, in a way. Not that talks of slavery could ever be. No...it was body language. Rhys stuck him as someone willing to open up, and for that reason, Amos was appreciative--if, a bit hesitant.

"It's a much better knot than I could do," Amos said lightly as Rhys held up his handiwork to him. But as the conversation steered to his reasons aboard this ship--his reasons on this very crew, in fact--Amos could help but think of a time long past. The blurred memories of a once cherished bride, long faded by time.

Amos tried not to think of these things. And so Amos provided his inquirer with a half-truth: "New herbs would be great, but the money could go to some great use. I'm looking to establish a permanent shop to work among my things, maybe...help a few people along the way."

"And what about yourself?" Amos asked, "We both don't seem to look the part of treasure-hunters, I would assume."

As he awaited his response, Amos poured a green substance from his mortar, helping it move into the main mixing bowl with his pestle.

Rhys got the feeling that Amos…wasn’t being completely genuine in his reasons, but those were his own, just as Rhys’ reasons were his. “I’m not sure…Answers?” Rhys said it in a questioning tone, because he wasn’t really sure what drove him here. He grew silent for a minute, fumbling a bit to undo and redo the knot as he thought about it.

“My brother….” He began the subject hard for him to share. “He left home, going west, looking for answers. He always thought there was more out there. I don’t expect to find him. But… I think I would like to find the answers he sought.” Rhys said.

He wasn’t sure if it made any sense to the other man, but it didn’t have to. They just needed to both be vested in keeping the other alive. It might not go both ways, but he certainly wanted to keep the alchemist alive through the journey. And the first step to that was possibly relieving his sea sickness. “Would you like me to ask the crew if they have anything they know of to help with your sea sickness?” Rhys asked, hopping off of the bed. He felt like he needed some fresh air, despite the dreary weather.

Amos finished the last of his mixing as Rhys finished his own answer. As a man living in solitude for so long, he was surprised as how candid his traveling partner had managed to be, and felt a tinge of disappointment within himself for not being able to do so as quickly.

"Well," he said, setting down his tools. Further action proved to be of little use in this case, "I do certainly hope you find your answers." He watched as Rhys moved to leave, offering to ask around for help.

"I'd be very grateful," Amos said, "thanks for offering."

He felt compelled to say more, but held his tongue for now. The journey had just begun, and it may be best to remember that not every man or woman aboard the ship appreciated further pestering.

Rhys nodded to Amos and grabbed the rope of the bed as well. “Course!” He smiled brightly for a moment and went over to the door. “After all, keeping you healthy now will keep us all healthy later.” He said. Rhys walked out of the room and went up to the deck, looking for someone to ask about sea sickness. He thought he heard someone mention the other day that ginger was used, but he wasn’t sure if that was true, or if they even had any on the ship.

After the End

@DeltaV I may not play group games terribly often, but I definitely haven't seen a style like that. I like it! So I might PM some of the other people for conversing purposes, and then put them together in a post, assuming other people as glued to the guild as I am.

After the End

haha that is true. He is unchallenged... I guess. :P

After the End

Sounds good. We can always just pretend he was stoic and agreed with our plans. Question is, who is going to step forth as the leader of the group? :)

After the End

In terms of IC posting, we are just waiting on @Shorticus, yea?

I'm totally patient, I swear, I just wanted to touch base. It seems like the rest of the party is basically in agreement about the path to take...

After the End

Okay, sorry about the lack of an IC post thus far. I'm ALMOST at Spring Break (that's next week), but I've got midterm exams slamming into me as we speak. Thankfully, I've just got one more tonight. I'll probably be busy for a good chunk of tomorrow, but between now and tomorrow morning I should have a post up.

@Shorticus

yay! Look forward to it. Here, the college midterms are next week. No studying for me, but unfortunately I have to grade them all. hope it goes well!

After the End

Haha let's wait and you can decide based on her mood at the time. I don't care either way, @Carantathraiel

After the End

I would say Rhys might be identified by his voice for her. She might think he is girl, though. I will think about smells...

After the End

Hey, @always please in NO way think I am affiliated with the GM. I'm not. But I'm reading your CS as another player in the game, and I admit, I don't entirely understand it.

Can you do a once-over for grammar, like there versus their? meat vs meat? etc. I am happy to give some grammar tips if you are unsure of things.

Beyond that, though, I am having a really hard time following your story, and I have a feeling other people will as well. It seems like she is rich, then poor, then learns how to hunt, with not much explaining how she is acquiring those skills. I think a subplot about wanting answers about her father is cool (I used a similar motivation in my character's backstory as well), but there are other parts of the story that I think need to be tightened, like with her mother/marie.

Again, I'm not the GM, so please don't think my word is God. I just wanted to give you some feedback from a player perspective. :)

After the End

Rhys had taken the Northern route leaving home, taking the route by land around the body of water. Had he gone across the bay instead, he might have arrived in town when the announcement was just being made about the assembly of a group to go to the west. Had he been delayed at all by the kingdom to the North, he might have missed the opportunity entirely. Rhys didn’t consider himself to be the most social of individuals, but traveling with a group into the West was certainly preferable to going on his own. The provisions and the coins would help too. Though Rhys had enough funds to get some dried meat and other foods, he wouldn’t be able to supply himself food for the entire journey. He had intended to forage off the land.

He wondered, when he arrived at the keep, if his brother had taken a similar route. Had fortune—good or bad wouldn’t be revealed for some time, yet—provided him with an entourage and food? Had he chosen the route by water or by land? Rhys thought land. His instincts were drawn to the forest of the third route, and he believed that his brother would have been as well. They were both very familiar with forests, hunting for food and moving among the trees. A faint flicker of concern crossed his face for a moment as he thought that the mule and cart might struggle with such a journey. But that was not his problem. The owner of the cart would determine its limitations. Rhys only had to consider the limitations of the weight on his back and the strength of his legs.

In continuing to consider the third option, Rhys knew that he had no cause to return expediently, nothing driving him back to his home village. The answers he sought were out there…out West. He waited until all of the options were laid out, not really wishing to be the first one to speak. He would have greatly preferred it if the other men simply chose the third option and then they could come to a consensus. But his patience grew thin, and he did greatly prefer the third option to the others. “I think…” When he began to speak, he could feel hundreds of eyes upon him. Perhaps it wasn’t that many, but a part of him was convinced that there were more people in this keep than were in his entire village. “I think that we should take the route to the North. We will be able to get food and shelter, and avoid potential ambushes on the main road. It may be slower, but I’d rather be slow and alive than quick and dead.”

His voice didn’t sound like a grown male, and there were likely a few who wondered just how many years he had under his belt. But Rhys wasn’t looking at the eyes of the merchants and the seamen. He was looking at the rest of his crew. There was an older, scarred man who might agree with the value of taking one’s time, but might instead be at the point in his life where he wants to be unnecessarily reckless. The man with the horse seemed to be armed for the woods as well, with his dark clothing and bow, and Rhys hoped that he, too, would prefer the cover of the trees. The other man he couldn’t gauge yet, and he seemed rather quiet. He waited for the others who mattered to voice their opinions, and in the back of his mind began to wonder what these people would think of him, with his worn brown and green clothing, and somewhat over-sized bag currently by his feet.