The Intrepid set sail from Emon early on a clear morning; sometime before noon, a call comes from one of the lookouts: Crew to starboard! Several hands rush to the side of the ship: some start laughing, others make ready a pulley. It only takes a handful of minutes before the crew has pulled up a dinghy with a sail, and even less time to get it roped to the side of the ship. It takes just a little more work to collapse the sail, laying it flat and securing it to the dinghy to be sure it won't go flying off.
"Were you planning to sail all the way on that? Get to, Strand - are you crew on this ship or cargo?" Despite the bark in the sailing master's voice, the half-elf has a smile in her voice as she addresses the person newly on deck.
"I'll sign on if you've got a contract handy," comes the answer, voice smooth and lilting with amusement. As the rest of the crew gets back to their duties, a halfling man is left behind talking to the sailing master.
"See the captain. We can always use another able body that knows what it's doing." Finally, a smile quirks her mouth. "Get to."
"Aye, ma'am."
Ro Strand grins as he pulls his dark hair back and secures it in a bun. He isn't even three and a half feet tall, wearing close-fitting breeches and a loose shirt. His skin is sun-warmed, making the smattering of freckles on his face darker. He leans down to grab his bundle and to pull on the leather shoes he'd dropped on the deck. He disappears below deck to find the captain and sign on for the trip to--wherever it is they're going. He'll stay on until he's within a short sail of Vesrah and disembark from there. It'll be a couple weeks on a larger ship, a bit of pay, and a safer ride, either way.
Orym is there on deck when they bring him up. Though he isn't close enough to overhear the conversation with the sailing master, he can read their lips easily enough. She doesn't seem angry, but it's clear this isn't something that happens a lot. He watches the dark-haired halfling go below curiously.
He is cargo on this ship. It isn't exactly a passenger vessel, so the fee was a little cheaper, and a hammock in the crew's quarters suits him just fine. Though he's paid to be aboard, he's still interested in helping out where he can--it'd be worth it just to learn the skills involved, and he knows he'll be itching for something to occupy him by tomorrow. He's not meant to be idle. But he doesn't want to get in anyone's way with his lack of knowledge, so he's resigned himself to quiet observation until he starts picking things up.
The newest member of the crew, though...maybe that's somewhere to start.
Crossing to the starboard rail, he pulls himself up to peer down at the dinghy now lashed to the side of the ship. Huh.
When the halfling eventually emerges again, Orym is seated on one of the crates secured in a stack at the aft of the ship. It's a good spot to keep an eye on things, and it's near the door that leads below deck. He looks up from his whittling and watches him a little longer, noting that the bundle of his belongings is no longer with him. He's officially along for the ride, then.
"I'm no sailor," he speaks up, "but aren't we out a little far for a boat like that?" A wry half-smile pulls at one side of his mouth, and with a thumb he deftly flicks the blade of his pocket knife back into the handle.
Dark eyes lift their attention to the voice above him. Ro tips his head, surprised to see another halfling on deck. The question has a lopsided smile brightening his expression.
"Not quite," he answers, curiosity honing his interest. "Maybe if the weather got worse I'd have had a rough ride."
It wouldn't be the most reckless thing he'd done, though by now he's probably old enough to know better. Still, Ro was sure the Intrepid would be out this morning, and he knows the shipping lanes off the coast very well now. Chance and time had been on his side.
"I don't know you." He's confident in that, but the statement sounds more like a question than an accusation. The other halfling isn't so high up that Ro can't reach, so he offers up his hand. "Ro Strand."
Ah, Strand is his name. He'd been wondering. So maybe this is a somewhat regular occurrence--enough that the sailing master is familiar with him.
"Orym," he answers, taking Ro's hand in a firm but friendly grip. He releases it before he slides off the crate a moment later. It's funny, but it's almost disorienting for a moment to look straight at someone his own size. Not that halflings or gnomes are exceedingly rare, but they're certainly far less common outside their own communities than humans or other bigger folk. His smile widens a fraction. "Cargo, not crew."
His previous question and Ro's unfamiliarity with him probably already made that point.
"But I'll be here for the next few weeks, anyway. I think there's only one other passenger."
Ro isn't used to seeing eye-to-eye with most people unless he's standing on something or unless they're flat on their backs. So he can't help the way his smile echoes Orym's as the other halfling lands in front of him.
"Where are you headed that you jumped on this ship?"
Passenger he might be, but the Intrepid isn't really a passenger ship beyond the fact that it can, at times, accommodate a few extra bodies. There's not a lot of comfort to be had and there aren't any private cabins beyond the few reserved for higher ranking crew members and the captain.
Ro's incredulity is deserved. While Vesrah's location can't be unknown to those who sail the waters around it, from what Orym understands it's out of the way enough that most people don't really go there. Much like Zephrah. People know about it, but it's on top of the Summit Peaks. Not exactly an easy hike.
So he gives a gentle shrug, acknowledging that he's a little out of his depth here. "Vesrah. This ship will get me close, and I have a contact there."
He has no way to reach out to them without them reaching out first, but they've been contacting him periodically since Keyleth made introductions for him. Hopefully that's enough.
"You planning to swim from there?" he asks, eyes bright. It's difficult not to try to get the measure of a man - especially one his size - who might actually be willing to do just that. Or who's willing to hop on a ship toward Vesrah without a plan to get the rest of the way there.
"Here, come with me. I have some sails to mend, apparently."
Hardly the worst job, and it isn't so bad to do it on deck while the sun is out. Easier than doing so by firelight at night. At least on deck, he'll be on hand should something else need doing, and close to the masts to get into the rigging if the wind turns or a storm kicks up.
Though Orym has what he hopes is a more practical plan, he smiles at Ro's teasing. "Whatever gets me there," he replies lightly. Since he's expected, he hopes he'll be able to arrange some kind of pick up. But that all depends on timing.
Making a friend on board (another halfling, even) on the first day out of port is a good start, though. Some might consider it lucky. Hopefully an indicator of how the rest of the journey will go.
"Sure," he agrees easily, happy to keep Ro company while he gets started on his work, and happy to learn if he'll teach him. Orym is good with his hands; mending sails should be right up his alley. He's real curious about Ro, too, just as it seems like Ro might be curious about him. He finds he doesn't mind that. He's got nothing to hide and everything to learn.
Ro exchanges passing greetings with some of the crew as they pass on their way to the pile of sails tucked out of the way. He wrinkles his nose as he takes a large pouch off his belt. Then he flops down and gestures for Orym to find a place for himself. It won't exactly be hard for the pair of them to keep out of the way.
He pulls on a odd leather glove: it covers just his thumb and the thickest part protects the lower half of his palm. The rest of the tools he sets out between them, making sure Orym can get a look at them since he seems so keen.
Ro puts his back to the wooden wall behind him and examines the rip in the sail - it's long, but not badly jagged. He peers at Orym.
Orym is keen, and he looks curiously over the tools as Ro lays them out, having unstrapped his shield from his back and tucked himself against the wall as well, close enough to Ro that he can see what he's doing.
The tear in the sail looks big to him, but he has no idea where it rates between simple and difficult to fix. But when Ro asks about his experience working with similar materials, he nods. "Yeah. Just the basics, though. Mostly small repairs and upkeep on my armor and clothes."
He lifts a hand to his leather breastplate. Though its design of textured leaves makes it beautiful, it's clearly not a decorative piece. The years of constant wear and the care he's taken to keep it in good condition are clear to anyone who knows what to look for.
"Shouldn't be hard to catch on if you want. Best as we can do now is sew it up - this won't need a full patch."
Ro looks at the armor, having noticed it when he first set passing eyes on Orym. It's a beautiful piece, well-crafted and clearly well-worn. He flashes a little smile.
"Promise I'm not going to stab you with this if it'd be comfortable to have it off," he says as he wiggles an awl that would most certainly be wicked should he use it as a weapon. "I'll put holes in it if you'll follow with a stitch. Should look like this."
His fingers brush a part of the armor near the shoulder that's clearly been mended - he can see the leatherwork that's done it.
"That's a lot of trust to put in the strange halfling who just rowed up out of nowhere," Orym teases, and notes how comfortable he feels doing that already. It's...nice, actually. Some proof that he can still relax around other people, when lately he's felt almost incapable of being anything but polite and distant. "Honestly, I wear it so much I hardly notice it."
He follows Ro's hand as it lifts between them to his armor, brushing a small repair he'd done after a horned wyvern's claw just grazed his shoulder several years ago. He and a team of other Blades had tracked down and slain the dangerous creature that had moved into the western peak and started snatching livestock, and he was lucky it was a near miss--that thing could've carried him off as easily as it had been snatching up sheep. But he'd insisted on joining the hunting party.
The touch is oddly intimate. Orym can't remember the last time someone who wasn't him laid a hand on his armor. But he pushes past the strangeness of the moment; it's just him. He's been traveling on his own for nearly two years now, but sometimes he's really made to notice just how isolated he's let himself become.
"I can do that," he says with confidence, looking to Ro again. "Can't promise I'll be fast, though."
"You're already stuck on a ship with me," Ro quips back, pointing with the awl. But then he smiles and looks down to start his work. "No need to be fast. There's the needle you'll need there and the twine."
The twine is some tough fibers that've been covered in stiff wax. It'll make for some hard work, but it has to withstand the wind and water. Ro keeps the holes he makes even by sight alone; he uses the leather on his hand to push the awl or to catch it as it comes through to ensure the only holes in the sail are the ones he means to put there.
"What's sending you out to Vesrah?" he asks after he gets a bit ahead. Ro is straightening the pieces of the sail as he goes so that Orym will have an easier time following with the twine. "That doesn't seem like a casual destination, especially if you're hopping a ship like this to get there."
As Orym noted earlier: he's cargo as much as a passenger, and there's only one other person who's paid to be here. The rest are all crew.
Once they get started and Orym begins to get accustomed to stitching up something much larger than he's used to, it isn't difficult work. His hands are tough and strong and quick, and as he tends to with most repetitive physical work, he falls into a rhythm that's almost meditative. He follows a bit behind Ro, diligently weaving the needle threaded with rough twine through the path he creates, drawing the split pieces of the sail together. He doesn't glance up when the other man asks about his destination.
"Work, sort of." Trying to find somewhere, anywhere to be useful that isn't home. "I'm Ashari. Not from Vesrah, though. My leader arranged for me to be sent there to help out."
Which isn't unusual, but it isn't exactly common either, especially if you're not a druid on your Aramente. He's only ever met a few Ashari from the other villages visiting Zephrah, and even fewer stayed for very long.
"How about you?" he asks in return. "Why sail out here on your own rather than sign on in Emon?"
"Honestly, I wasn't coming from Emon," he admits. "I've been sailing down the coast a couple of days, thinking I'd catch a larger ship when I reached the city. It's sheer luck that the Intrepid sailed out today and was willing to pick me up."
It doesn't hurt that he's served on the crew before and has a decent relationship with both the captain and sail master.
Ro doesn't doubt for a moment Orym is serving the Voice of the Tempest on some errand, though he's surprised to hear it. It didn't take him long to learn that though the Ashari are all bent toward the same purpose, the tribes aren't all that close in contact unless something dire is happening. Perhaps things would be better if they were, but that's not for him to say.
"And it's your luck they picked me up, too," he adds casually. "I'll disembark as we pass near Vesrah and I can take you the rest of the way in."
Orym looks up from his work with an owlish blink, which becomes a look of pleasant surprise. Turns out he was right about luck. Halflings.
"That is lucky," he says. "I'd really appreciate a ride in."
Still, there is something undeniably odd about that offer. It's hard to sail casually into Vesrah's harbor. Vesrah is remote, and from what he understands, people may know it exists, but not usually where to find it. If you're going there, it's because you have business with the Water Ashari, and they let you be there.
"Is that a stop you typically make?" is what he decides to ask, green eyes bright and curious and, because it's just his instinct, a tad suspicious.
There's always dangers on the sea, and the dangers merchant vessels face are predictable. Ro's brow knits when he hears something heavy hit the water on the starboard side of the ship. Then he hears another distant boom--that's canon fire.
Moments later, the call comes from the deck: pirates.
Ro flips out of his hammock and grabs a small shield from under his pack. He flings it on his back, slips a dagger into his boot, and grabs the staff that's been resting against the wall since he settled in. He makes plenty of noise as he runs through the crew quarters, just in case anyone had missed the warning cry.
They hid in the rising sun, and now that it's higher in the sky, the approach is clear. Ro can already see they can't outrun the ship pursuing them: it's built for speed. The crew has given up trying to flee and they're preparing to fight. The merchant ship isn't heavily armed - that would take space and weight away from cargo. He glances up toward the quarter deck where an elven woman and a tiefling position themselves - spellcasters preparing to stay out of the way and fight from a distance. Others are mobilizing on the main deck, grabbing proper weapons or tools that will suffice.
Even with all the larger people running around, it doesn't take Ro long to spot Orym. He grabs the pendant around his neck and as soon as Orym is within range, he casts Bless on him, the sailing master, and one of the mates - they just happen to be the nearest to Orym and the easiest to target.
He looks up as the pirate ship pulls alongside them, trying to get close enough for their crew to board.
Without warning, eight strangers appear in the middle of the main deck and Ro curses. They teleported over - apparently they have a spellcaster of their own. Great.
Days of learning about sailing have taught Orym a lot, but more than anything he's learned how much he still doesn't know about sailing, and definitely won't have time to learn before the voyage is over. But when the warning call goes out and the whole crew scrambles as they prepare to be boarded, Orym knows that this, at least, is a situation where he can really be of use.
Sword and shield in hand, he spies Ro just before he feels something take effect on him--a positive something, like he's got a little help being the best version of himself, his capabilities honed and sharpened. He catches the other halfling's eye and nods. It's very brief, as his line of sight is immediately blocked by a group of pirates appearing between them in the middle of the deck, more quicky than anyone expected.
Maybe Ro will stop teasing him about wearing his armor all the time after this.
The suddenness of it gives the intruders a valuable few seconds to spread out and start swinging. Orym identifies the biggest threats as the half-elf caster, who a couple of the others remain clustered around, and a human hefting a heavy crossbow--the last thing they need is for her to start putting bolts in any of their casters, which she is already smartly attempting to do. Orym is the fastest to react of anyone on their crew, but that's always been one of his strengths. So he does what he does best and springs into action, vaulting up onto the guardrail and sprinting sure-footed along it. Between him and the crossbow-wielder is a human with a shortsword, and there's no getting to her without dealing with him first.
Leaping from the guardrail gets him some height, and his blade flashes twice on the downswing. Whatever Ro cast on him is putting him at the top of his game, because he easily finds his mark both times, landing on the deck behind the man now bleeding from his sword arm. He isn't actually trying to stay on this guy, but to get past him. So he keeps running, the wild swing the pirate takes in retaliation missing him by a mile.
Now he can see Ro again, much closer, and instinctively he keeps him in his periphery, always conscious of the people he needs to protect.
For a perilous few seconds, everyone is too close. He can't cast the thing he first thinks to - not unless he wants to let go of the blessing he's holding for the others, including Orym.
He's small, so getting out of the way isn't hard, and people don't always look down so no one is really looking for him. That won't last for long, but he'll do what he can until then. He sees Orym going for caster, cutting down someone on the way. He sees the woman with the crossbow and picks his target - she's a danger to their casters, and he can see her taking aim. Ro throws a hand out, staring hard at the woman with the crossbow and the pirate caster as he yells at them to freeze. The woman with the crossbow looks toward his voice and--then doesn't move at all. He can see her eyes widen as her muscles lock up, preventing her from firing anything. Ro looks at the caster and they manage to turn, lifting a hand to--do nothing. They freeze, too.
It's not a lot of time, but maybe it's enough for someone to get to them. If nothing else, it gives the people they were targeting a moment of relief.
Ro has to duck when something swings just over his head and he scrambles out of the way of a swinging boat hook wielded by a red dragonborn. He tries to scramble away, putting distance between him and the pirate.
Orym is good at noticing things, which is a valuable instinct in the middle of a chaotic fight like this. So he hears Ro shout freeze and sees both the caster and the woman with the crossbow suddenly lock up unnaturally. But he also sees the dragonborn take notice of who cast that spell, too, and quickly close in. He has to make a split-second decision: protect Ro, or use the opportunity he's created to take the crossbow out of the equation.
Others on their crew have started engaging now, and they're aware of the two momentarily frozen pirates. But only Orym has seen Ro barely avoiding being gored by a nasty-looking sharpened boat hook, and only he can do anything about it.
He veers away from the direction he was headed in, ducking beneath somebody's legs to cut the most direct path, and gets there in time to slice across the back of the dragonborn's calf and catch the next swing of that boat hook, taking the heavy impact on his shield in Ro's place and shouldering the scrambling cleric back.
"Stay behind me," he says quickly, putting himself between them, shield up. If Ro stays right where he is, Orym can protect him while he casts.
Ro yelps when suddenly a body flies between him and the next swing of the boat hook. He can hear the heavy thud against a shield, and Orym is right there, shouldering into him. He's about to argue with the order, but he realizes Orym has a better chance of catching trouble before he will if he's focused on casting.
He takes some comfort that he has a shield on his back, so getting to either of them from that side won't be as easy. Ro scans the deck and he can see one of the pirates heading for the quarter deck now that the pirate caster and some of the others are taking hits. He whispers something and makes a quick gesture and hits the half-orc heading for the quarter deck with a bright burst of light that seems to cling to him after the initial impact, lighting him up like a driftglobe. It clearly did damage, given the way the half-orc suddenly goes down, catching himself on his hands but looking really rough. Ro can see the first mate grab aim her own crossbow and fire from the stairs.
Across the deck, Ro sees one of the deck hands go down. He's not close enough--The dragonborn slams the boat hook into Orym's shield, trying to catch an edge. For a second, they seem locked up.
Ro needs to get to that crewmate, but he can't get around the dragonborn without leaving Orym's back exposed. So he reaches past Orym with his staff, catching the dragonborn's ankle with the curved end. He yanks hard, trying to get his balance off.
Ro is as impressive a caster as he is a sailor. Orym knows little about either of those things, but he can tell when someone knows what they're doing, and Ro has that confidence, with the skill to back it up.
But he can't pay too much attention to that with the threat right in front of him repeatedly slamming his shield. He's quick enough to adjust for each impact, and he does, but it isn't until the dragonborn stumbles with Ro's staff tugging at his ankle that Orym can break free and strike back. He lunges and cuts in an upward arc, slicing through cloth and scale to score a deep, precise gash across the inside of his thigh that will soon see him losing a lot of blood, and finally sends him toppling.
Orym sees the way they have to go, and he darts forward, intending to accompany Ro or at least clear a path for him to get there.
There are more people on deck now, a wave boarding from the other ship the more traditional way. Shit. But their crew isn't helpless, and it seems like several members of the initial boarding party have already fallen, though Orym can no longer locate the enemy caster at a glance. Did they use the same magic to leave again, or move to a different part of the ship?
There's no way to know and no time to wonder. Keeping his eyes up, he deflects the downward swing of a cutlass from his left with his shield and uses the opening to strike back, feeling his blade catch flesh against the side of the assailant's knee.
Orym clears the way, and Ro rushes past him. He takes a quick look around, as much as he can, in an attempt to take stock of what's happening. Gods, he hates this. They need to get away from that ship.
He casts a spell to spare the dying as he passes the downed crewmember and instead races to the side of the ship, trying to find a place where he can see the water. He looks up toward the quarter deck and manages to catch their druid's gaze. They both turn their eyes to the water and cast at the same time. Two whirlpools open on the other side of the pirate ship, each fifty feet or more in diameter: one toward the bow and one near the middle. The pirate ship lurches, and all of a sudden there is a lot more yelling on their deck. Ro grips the rail tightly, trying to maintain his concentration. It's a gamble - it takes both he and the druid out of the fight - but if the pirates can't get off their own ship, if they can separate the ships, they stand a chance.
Anything to make this end faster. He just hopes he's small enough that people won't notice him. If the druid has to break concentration, Ro will try to hold onto his.
There are about ten different things Orym could do, but as wood starts to groan and shouts go up from the other ship in response to Ro and their druid's casting, he quickly decides that this is where he can make the best use of his own skills. What Ro is doing is more important than anything else happening right now, and this is what Orym is trained for--standing between important people and anyone who tries to harm them.
As a few of the pirates nearest to them figure out what's happening, Orym pushes down his conflicted feelings and focuses on doing his job. He positions himself to cover Ro, parrying blows from two different attackers. His armor takes the brunt of a blow across his side, but the impact is hard enough that he knows it'll be a nasty bruise. He strikes out and cuts deep enough for them to stumble back, giving him space to square off with the second one.
Pain sears the left side of his body. A moment later, something thuds against his shield and clatters to the deck. The impact reverberates down his arm, and he cries out. It takes him a moment to realize that it's a crossbow bolt, and another is sunk deep into the muscle between his shoulder and collarbone, right above his armor. His focus on covering Ro left him wide open to an attack he didn't expect.
Orym grits back another cry as he refuses to drop his shield despite the agonizing bite of sharp steel lodged in the muscle holding it up. He still has a job to do.
Ro flinches, but a blow never comes. Instead, there's Orym, taking a hit meant for him. Sweat beads on his brow and he grips the rail tighter when he hears Orym cry out. He looks past the other halfling, seeing who is there. He can see the crossbow bolt and as badly as he wants to lash out at the person who hit Orym in the first place, Ro instead presses his free hand against the other halfling's back. He whispers a prayer and gives Orym as much healing as he can. He can't help the way he wants to, he can't lose his concentration on the whirlpool currently dragging the pirate ship away from theirs.
He looks past Orym again, trying to get sight of anyone who might come for them - for him. Ro doesn't take his hand away from Orym's back until he has to, and then it's to grip the rail with both hands to keep from losing his balance as their ship moves as if pushed. He wonders if that's the druid's doing. He doesn't let go of his whirlpool, though, as it's doing its work to drag the pirate ship into it. Whatever planks and ropes they used for boarding fall away; whatever pirates are left on the merchant ship are trapped with three options: keep fighting, surrender, or take their chances in the sea.
Ro knows that doesn't mean the fight is over. Just that the tide has hopefully turned.
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crossing the sea
"Were you planning to sail all the way on that? Get to, Strand - are you crew on this ship or cargo?" Despite the bark in the sailing master's voice, the half-elf has a smile in her voice as she addresses the person newly on deck.
"I'll sign on if you've got a contract handy," comes the answer, voice smooth and lilting with amusement. As the rest of the crew gets back to their duties, a halfling man is left behind talking to the sailing master.
"See the captain. We can always use another able body that knows what it's doing." Finally, a smile quirks her mouth. "Get to."
"Aye, ma'am."
Ro Strand grins as he pulls his dark hair back and secures it in a bun. He isn't even three and a half feet tall, wearing close-fitting breeches and a loose shirt. His skin is sun-warmed, making the smattering of freckles on his face darker. He leans down to grab his bundle and to pull on the leather shoes he'd dropped on the deck. He disappears below deck to find the captain and sign on for the trip to--wherever it is they're going. He'll stay on until he's within a short sail of Vesrah and disembark from there. It'll be a couple weeks on a larger ship, a bit of pay, and a safer ride, either way.
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He is cargo on this ship. It isn't exactly a passenger vessel, so the fee was a little cheaper, and a hammock in the crew's quarters suits him just fine. Though he's paid to be aboard, he's still interested in helping out where he can--it'd be worth it just to learn the skills involved, and he knows he'll be itching for something to occupy him by tomorrow. He's not meant to be idle. But he doesn't want to get in anyone's way with his lack of knowledge, so he's resigned himself to quiet observation until he starts picking things up.
The newest member of the crew, though...maybe that's somewhere to start.
Crossing to the starboard rail, he pulls himself up to peer down at the dinghy now lashed to the side of the ship. Huh.
When the halfling eventually emerges again, Orym is seated on one of the crates secured in a stack at the aft of the ship. It's a good spot to keep an eye on things, and it's near the door that leads below deck. He looks up from his whittling and watches him a little longer, noting that the bundle of his belongings is no longer with him. He's officially along for the ride, then.
"I'm no sailor," he speaks up, "but aren't we out a little far for a boat like that?" A wry half-smile pulls at one side of his mouth, and with a thumb he deftly flicks the blade of his pocket knife back into the handle.
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"Not quite," he answers, curiosity honing his interest. "Maybe if the weather got worse I'd have had a rough ride."
It wouldn't be the most reckless thing he'd done, though by now he's probably old enough to know better. Still, Ro was sure the Intrepid would be out this morning, and he knows the shipping lanes off the coast very well now. Chance and time had been on his side.
"I don't know you." He's confident in that, but the statement sounds more like a question than an accusation. The other halfling isn't so high up that Ro can't reach, so he offers up his hand. "Ro Strand."
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"Orym," he answers, taking Ro's hand in a firm but friendly grip. He releases it before he slides off the crate a moment later. It's funny, but it's almost disorienting for a moment to look straight at someone his own size. Not that halflings or gnomes are exceedingly rare, but they're certainly far less common outside their own communities than humans or other bigger folk. His smile widens a fraction. "Cargo, not crew."
His previous question and Ro's unfamiliarity with him probably already made that point.
"But I'll be here for the next few weeks, anyway. I think there's only one other passenger."
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"Where are you headed that you jumped on this ship?"
Passenger he might be, but the Intrepid isn't really a passenger ship beyond the fact that it can, at times, accommodate a few extra bodies. There's not a lot of comfort to be had and there aren't any private cabins beyond the few reserved for higher ranking crew members and the captain.
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So he gives a gentle shrug, acknowledging that he's a little out of his depth here. "Vesrah. This ship will get me close, and I have a contact there."
He has no way to reach out to them without them reaching out first, but they've been contacting him periodically since Keyleth made introductions for him. Hopefully that's enough.
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"Here, come with me. I have some sails to mend, apparently."
Hardly the worst job, and it isn't so bad to do it on deck while the sun is out. Easier than doing so by firelight at night. At least on deck, he'll be on hand should something else need doing, and close to the masts to get into the rigging if the wind turns or a storm kicks up.
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Making a friend on board (another halfling, even) on the first day out of port is a good start, though. Some might consider it lucky. Hopefully an indicator of how the rest of the journey will go.
"Sure," he agrees easily, happy to keep Ro company while he gets started on his work, and happy to learn if he'll teach him. Orym is good with his hands; mending sails should be right up his alley. He's real curious about Ro, too, just as it seems like Ro might be curious about him. He finds he doesn't mind that. He's got nothing to hide and everything to learn.
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He pulls on a odd leather glove: it covers just his thumb and the thickest part protects the lower half of his palm. The rest of the tools he sets out between them, making sure Orym can get a look at them since he seems so keen.
Ro puts his back to the wooden wall behind him and examines the rip in the sail - it's long, but not badly jagged. He peers at Orym.
"Ever stitch anything or work leather?"
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The tear in the sail looks big to him, but he has no idea where it rates between simple and difficult to fix. But when Ro asks about his experience working with similar materials, he nods. "Yeah. Just the basics, though. Mostly small repairs and upkeep on my armor and clothes."
He lifts a hand to his leather breastplate. Though its design of textured leaves makes it beautiful, it's clearly not a decorative piece. The years of constant wear and the care he's taken to keep it in good condition are clear to anyone who knows what to look for.
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Ro looks at the armor, having noticed it when he first set passing eyes on Orym. It's a beautiful piece, well-crafted and clearly well-worn. He flashes a little smile.
"Promise I'm not going to stab you with this if it'd be comfortable to have it off," he says as he wiggles an awl that would most certainly be wicked should he use it as a weapon. "I'll put holes in it if you'll follow with a stitch. Should look like this."
His fingers brush a part of the armor near the shoulder that's clearly been mended - he can see the leatherwork that's done it.
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He follows Ro's hand as it lifts between them to his armor, brushing a small repair he'd done after a horned wyvern's claw just grazed his shoulder several years ago. He and a team of other Blades had tracked down and slain the dangerous creature that had moved into the western peak and started snatching livestock, and he was lucky it was a near miss--that thing could've carried him off as easily as it had been snatching up sheep. But he'd insisted on joining the hunting party.
The touch is oddly intimate. Orym can't remember the last time someone who wasn't him laid a hand on his armor. But he pushes past the strangeness of the moment; it's just him. He's been traveling on his own for nearly two years now, but sometimes he's really made to notice just how isolated he's let himself become.
"I can do that," he says with confidence, looking to Ro again. "Can't promise I'll be fast, though."
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The twine is some tough fibers that've been covered in stiff wax. It'll make for some hard work, but it has to withstand the wind and water. Ro keeps the holes he makes even by sight alone; he uses the leather on his hand to push the awl or to catch it as it comes through to ensure the only holes in the sail are the ones he means to put there.
"What's sending you out to Vesrah?" he asks after he gets a bit ahead. Ro is straightening the pieces of the sail as he goes so that Orym will have an easier time following with the twine. "That doesn't seem like a casual destination, especially if you're hopping a ship like this to get there."
As Orym noted earlier: he's cargo as much as a passenger, and there's only one other person who's paid to be here. The rest are all crew.
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"Work, sort of." Trying to find somewhere, anywhere to be useful that isn't home. "I'm Ashari. Not from Vesrah, though. My leader arranged for me to be sent there to help out."
Which isn't unusual, but it isn't exactly common either, especially if you're not a druid on your Aramente. He's only ever met a few Ashari from the other villages visiting Zephrah, and even fewer stayed for very long.
"How about you?" he asks in return. "Why sail out here on your own rather than sign on in Emon?"
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It doesn't hurt that he's served on the crew before and has a decent relationship with both the captain and sail master.
Ro doesn't doubt for a moment Orym is serving the Voice of the Tempest on some errand, though he's surprised to hear it. It didn't take him long to learn that though the Ashari are all bent toward the same purpose, the tribes aren't all that close in contact unless something dire is happening. Perhaps things would be better if they were, but that's not for him to say.
"And it's your luck they picked me up, too," he adds casually. "I'll disembark as we pass near Vesrah and I can take you the rest of the way in."
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"That is lucky," he says. "I'd really appreciate a ride in."
Still, there is something undeniably odd about that offer. It's hard to sail casually into Vesrah's harbor. Vesrah is remote, and from what he understands, people may know it exists, but not usually where to find it. If you're going there, it's because you have business with the Water Ashari, and they let you be there.
"Is that a stop you typically make?" is what he decides to ask, green eyes bright and curious and, because it's just his instinct, a tad suspicious.
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peril
Moments later, the call comes from the deck: pirates.
Ro flips out of his hammock and grabs a small shield from under his pack. He flings it on his back, slips a dagger into his boot, and grabs the staff that's been resting against the wall since he settled in. He makes plenty of noise as he runs through the crew quarters, just in case anyone had missed the warning cry.
They hid in the rising sun, and now that it's higher in the sky, the approach is clear. Ro can already see they can't outrun the ship pursuing them: it's built for speed. The crew has given up trying to flee and they're preparing to fight. The merchant ship isn't heavily armed - that would take space and weight away from cargo. He glances up toward the quarter deck where an elven woman and a tiefling position themselves - spellcasters preparing to stay out of the way and fight from a distance. Others are mobilizing on the main deck, grabbing proper weapons or tools that will suffice.
Even with all the larger people running around, it doesn't take Ro long to spot Orym. He grabs the pendant around his neck and as soon as Orym is within range, he casts Bless on him, the sailing master, and one of the mates - they just happen to be the nearest to Orym and the easiest to target.
He looks up as the pirate ship pulls alongside them, trying to get close enough for their crew to board.
Without warning, eight strangers appear in the middle of the main deck and Ro curses. They teleported over - apparently they have a spellcaster of their own. Great.
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Sword and shield in hand, he spies Ro just before he feels something take effect on him--a positive something, like he's got a little help being the best version of himself, his capabilities honed and sharpened. He catches the other halfling's eye and nods. It's very brief, as his line of sight is immediately blocked by a group of pirates appearing between them in the middle of the deck, more quicky than anyone expected.
Maybe Ro will stop teasing him about wearing his armor all the time after this.
The suddenness of it gives the intruders a valuable few seconds to spread out and start swinging. Orym identifies the biggest threats as the half-elf caster, who a couple of the others remain clustered around, and a human hefting a heavy crossbow--the last thing they need is for her to start putting bolts in any of their casters, which she is already smartly attempting to do. Orym is the fastest to react of anyone on their crew, but that's always been one of his strengths. So he does what he does best and springs into action, vaulting up onto the guardrail and sprinting sure-footed along it. Between him and the crossbow-wielder is a human with a shortsword, and there's no getting to her without dealing with him first.
Leaping from the guardrail gets him some height, and his blade flashes twice on the downswing. Whatever Ro cast on him is putting him at the top of his game, because he easily finds his mark both times, landing on the deck behind the man now bleeding from his sword arm. He isn't actually trying to stay on this guy, but to get past him. So he keeps running, the wild swing the pirate takes in retaliation missing him by a mile.
Now he can see Ro again, much closer, and instinctively he keeps him in his periphery, always conscious of the people he needs to protect.
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He's small, so getting out of the way isn't hard, and people don't always look down so no one is really looking for him. That won't last for long, but he'll do what he can until then. He sees Orym going for caster, cutting down someone on the way. He sees the woman with the crossbow and picks his target - she's a danger to their casters, and he can see her taking aim. Ro throws a hand out, staring hard at the woman with the crossbow and the pirate caster as he yells at them to freeze. The woman with the crossbow looks toward his voice and--then doesn't move at all. He can see her eyes widen as her muscles lock up, preventing her from firing anything. Ro looks at the caster and they manage to turn, lifting a hand to--do nothing. They freeze, too.
It's not a lot of time, but maybe it's enough for someone to get to them. If nothing else, it gives the people they were targeting a moment of relief.
Ro has to duck when something swings just over his head and he scrambles out of the way of a swinging boat hook wielded by a red dragonborn. He tries to scramble away, putting distance between him and the pirate.
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Others on their crew have started engaging now, and they're aware of the two momentarily frozen pirates. But only Orym has seen Ro barely avoiding being gored by a nasty-looking sharpened boat hook, and only he can do anything about it.
He veers away from the direction he was headed in, ducking beneath somebody's legs to cut the most direct path, and gets there in time to slice across the back of the dragonborn's calf and catch the next swing of that boat hook, taking the heavy impact on his shield in Ro's place and shouldering the scrambling cleric back.
"Stay behind me," he says quickly, putting himself between them, shield up. If Ro stays right where he is, Orym can protect him while he casts.
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He takes some comfort that he has a shield on his back, so getting to either of them from that side won't be as easy. Ro scans the deck and he can see one of the pirates heading for the quarter deck now that the pirate caster and some of the others are taking hits. He whispers something and makes a quick gesture and hits the half-orc heading for the quarter deck with a bright burst of light that seems to cling to him after the initial impact, lighting him up like a driftglobe. It clearly did damage, given the way the half-orc suddenly goes down, catching himself on his hands but looking really rough. Ro can see the first mate grab aim her own crossbow and fire from the stairs.
Across the deck, Ro sees one of the deck hands go down. He's not close enough--The dragonborn slams the boat hook into Orym's shield, trying to catch an edge. For a second, they seem locked up.
Ro needs to get to that crewmate, but he can't get around the dragonborn without leaving Orym's back exposed. So he reaches past Orym with his staff, catching the dragonborn's ankle with the curved end. He yanks hard, trying to get his balance off.
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But he can't pay too much attention to that with the threat right in front of him repeatedly slamming his shield. He's quick enough to adjust for each impact, and he does, but it isn't until the dragonborn stumbles with Ro's staff tugging at his ankle that Orym can break free and strike back. He lunges and cuts in an upward arc, slicing through cloth and scale to score a deep, precise gash across the inside of his thigh that will soon see him losing a lot of blood, and finally sends him toppling.
Orym sees the way they have to go, and he darts forward, intending to accompany Ro or at least clear a path for him to get there.
There are more people on deck now, a wave boarding from the other ship the more traditional way. Shit. But their crew isn't helpless, and it seems like several members of the initial boarding party have already fallen, though Orym can no longer locate the enemy caster at a glance. Did they use the same magic to leave again, or move to a different part of the ship?
There's no way to know and no time to wonder. Keeping his eyes up, he deflects the downward swing of a cutlass from his left with his shield and uses the opening to strike back, feeling his blade catch flesh against the side of the assailant's knee.
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He casts a spell to spare the dying as he passes the downed crewmember and instead races to the side of the ship, trying to find a place where he can see the water. He looks up toward the quarter deck and manages to catch their druid's gaze. They both turn their eyes to the water and cast at the same time. Two whirlpools open on the other side of the pirate ship, each fifty feet or more in diameter: one toward the bow and one near the middle. The pirate ship lurches, and all of a sudden there is a lot more yelling on their deck. Ro grips the rail tightly, trying to maintain his concentration. It's a gamble - it takes both he and the druid out of the fight - but if the pirates can't get off their own ship, if they can separate the ships, they stand a chance.
Anything to make this end faster. He just hopes he's small enough that people won't notice him. If the druid has to break concentration, Ro will try to hold onto his.
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As a few of the pirates nearest to them figure out what's happening, Orym pushes down his conflicted feelings and focuses on doing his job. He positions himself to cover Ro, parrying blows from two different attackers. His armor takes the brunt of a blow across his side, but the impact is hard enough that he knows it'll be a nasty bruise. He strikes out and cuts deep enough for them to stumble back, giving him space to square off with the second one.
Pain sears the left side of his body. A moment later, something thuds against his shield and clatters to the deck. The impact reverberates down his arm, and he cries out. It takes him a moment to realize that it's a crossbow bolt, and another is sunk deep into the muscle between his shoulder and collarbone, right above his armor. His focus on covering Ro left him wide open to an attack he didn't expect.
Orym grits back another cry as he refuses to drop his shield despite the agonizing bite of sharp steel lodged in the muscle holding it up. He still has a job to do.
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He looks past Orym again, trying to get sight of anyone who might come for them - for him. Ro doesn't take his hand away from Orym's back until he has to, and then it's to grip the rail with both hands to keep from losing his balance as their ship moves as if pushed. He wonders if that's the druid's doing. He doesn't let go of his whirlpool, though, as it's doing its work to drag the pirate ship into it. Whatever planks and ropes they used for boarding fall away; whatever pirates are left on the merchant ship are trapped with three options: keep fighting, surrender, or take their chances in the sea.
Ro knows that doesn't mean the fight is over. Just that the tide has hopefully turned.