Lor

[Dezza]

A busy day in Lor as nobles and well to do's alike found it difficult to hire a carriage as all the best ones were snapped up by an influx on notables from around the world. The people or Lor also were treated to a great spectacle as one of the Heroes of Lor, Argali Trueaxe led none other than the famous Father Mithril through the streets of Lor to an estate hired by Diet member Angela Swann for his personal use.

For he entire day carriages rolled in and out of the estate as Fenrir Thornaxe carried out business within. Witnesses speculate that it is to do with the new Academy that the Father of Mithril is intending to establish on the jungle ridden island where Stort is located.

[Script Wrecked]

The cadets' session following her master's visit is exercised with more rigor than would normally be applied to a group of inexperienced novices. Argali runs the troop about the battlements of the city walls. She pays little heed to any complaints from the regular guard as she drives the troop up and down and around the towers. Eventually, looking on the verge of collapse, she brings the troop to a halt on the top of the battlements. Looking out into the dusk of evening, she speaks as they stagger, struggle to draw breath, and perhaps even one or two dry retching.

"The few days ago, Lorr iz having the vizitorr... The vizitorr frrom the norrth."

She stares hard in the direction of a place too far away to be seen.

"He iz just walking in like he iz owning the town. And therre was the nothing we could be doing about it. No debt of blood orr honourr gave us the means to make the choice as to whetherr we arre allowing him in orr not. He just came.

"Zo it is with theirr arrmy. They could just walk in tomorrow, and all ourr lives would be changing foreverr. Everrything we arre having would be... zuddenly differrent. No longerr arre we frree to come and go as we arre pleazing. We would have the new... regime imposed upon us."

She turns to address the troop, looking directly to each one as she does.

"Zo, be thinking of zis when she iz asking a bit morre frrom you. A bit morre than you would norrmally be giving.

"Because you can be zurre, they will not ask you forr it,"

She makes a snatching motion that ends in a curled fist.

"... but take it."

[Script Wrecked]

One rainy day in Lor, Argali spends time about the streets of the town, following the rivens of water as the rain runs over the cobblestones and along the curbs. She is trying to find if it enters any drains and, if so, where it goes.

After much time splashing in puddles and becoming quite soaked through, she ends up at the municipal offices. There, she [THREAD=271202]inquires[/THREAD] as to the existence and/or state of the sewers in Lor.

[Script Wrecked]

Armed with a (very) rough map of the city's sewers, a copper haired dwarven lass is seen on numerous occasions entering the larger drains about town. Putting her [THREAD=148662]prior[/THREAD] experience of mapping to use, she begins the long and often unpleasant task of checking the details of the map first hand. She takes particular pains to correlate the features of the sewer with the streets and buildings above. She also makes note of the state of repair of the sewer walls and pipework.

She soon learns how permeating and lingering the stench of the sewer is, even after leaving it. She tries various methods to free herself of it, each meeting with various degrees of success.

[Script Wrecked]

At the end of their [POST=1606242]first[/POST] season(1) of cadets, Argali takes the Lor Troop out on an extended hike along the coast of southern Dregar. Along the route, she gets them marching, mostly at normal pace, but a few times at quick time, and once, briefly, up to double time before they all collapse into a heap along the side of the road.

Later in the afternoon, they stop for the day. Lacking the particular wilderness skills of a ranger, Argali nonetheless instructs them in the basics of making an army camp. She instills in them the benefits of orderly making and breaking of camp, and has them do it several times before allowing them to fall out.

As dusk becomes evening, they sit about the fire after a simple but filling meal. Argali gives them a tale or two of some of the lesser adventures of the renown dwarven hero Rainstorff. As they turn in, she reminds them that there will be a roster of guard duty throughout the night.

Come morning, Argali rouses the cadets bright and early, though some take more rousing than others, and a few are down right recalcitrant. Nonetheless, she soon has them formed up in lines, running them through their basic drill. She reviews what they have been taught over the past season, asking particular cadets pertinent questions. She commends them for staying the course, for not everyone who started is still part of the troop, and some who were not there are the beginning are not here now.

To end, she presents each cadet with a neck kerchief of the same azure blue as the arms of Lor, to be worn at all future cadets sessions. She secures the kerchief about each cadet's neck with a finely woven metal wire ring.

Later that day, it is with no small pride that Beacon Tower Cadets, Lor Troop marches back in through the gates of Lor.



(1) in this instance, a deliberately vague measure of time

[Script Wrecked]

With the passing of time and a few [POST=1575612]rotations[/POST] serving as Lor townsguard under their belts, the Beacon Tower recruits become more seasoned. Their duties are expanded to include regular patrols around the Beacon Towers, including visiting any nearby homesteads, hamlets or villages that are within patrolling distance, to ensure all is well and report any notable troubles back to Lor.

[mixafix]

Following some raids along the northern border farms - beacons are lit, birds are flown..and a detachment from Lor dispatched all in good time. However the raiders, identified as Dark Elves proved more than a match for the patrol.
 
 Initial reports suggest many farms and wagons have been looted.

A more robust response is organised in Lor's name. However as the raiders have fled to Rael - the input of the Rael ambassador to Lor is sought.
 
 The army sharpens it's swords, the Dwarves are the first to volunteer, seasoned campaigners they start to gather their goods ready -just in case.

[Meadow Saffron]

[FONT="Comic Sans MS]Barely had the news of recent darkelven activities gone cold before yet more news found its way to the town crier.

It would appear certain individuals of the lower layers of the city have taken a profound like to daylight. Reports tell of them wearing nothing more than bruises, filth and red marks that are believed to be the effects of poisoning. Some witnesses claim to have recognized a few of these individuals as thugs and pickpockets. The most consistent reports speak of how these individuals seem to have been completely broken, miserable and robbed of their pride[/FONT]

[Script Wrecked]

Stories float out of the taverns of Lor of how the dark elf raids were part of some plot to lure unwary pursuers into a watery trap. At the same time, Prantz extended its clutching grasp, reaching into Lor with its grave ambassador and his dour assistant to cast a further pall over a bad situation.

The Beacon Tower garrisons are given orders for extra vigilance, and are started on night time patrols.

In the meantime, a copper haired dwarven lass is seen about the docks of Lor, seeking out old sea dogs, former first mates, and retired ships captains amidst the dives and drinking establishments of the harbor front.

[akata]

On a busy morning in Mai, the Maiden's Folly make port in Lor and before the gangway is fully lowered a figure leaps from the deck and gracefully lands on the docks quickly marching off to find an escort of guards.

Angela along with Alantha make their way to Marshall Sasha Tomyris' office to hand over the crates which contain gifts to the Army, the Navy, the Guards and the Beacon Tower garrisons, the items are to be distributed as Marshall Sasha sees fit.

Besides from the Great Seal of Lor each item carries the seal of their creator/benefactor, a tigress
battling its own shadow. The tiger itself is not covered in the usual kind of stripes,
but with clearly visible lightning bolts.

Items for donation to the Army/Navy/Guards of Lor:

35 Platinum Chain Shirts
35 Platinum Chain Mails
35 Platinum Half Plates
35 Platinum Full Plates
215 Platinum Helmets
20 Adamantium Helmets
28 Adamantium Shields
10 Emerald Rings of Bull Strength (1 Exceptional)
10 Emerald Rings of Cat's Grace
15 Diamond Rings of Bull Strength (1 Exceptional)
15 Diamond Rings of Cat's Grace (1 Exceptional)
15 Platinum Rings set with 3 Alexandrites
10 Ilsare's Fiery Eye
20 Yew Long Bows
5 Dorand's Brace
3 Gloves of Austerity
3 Bracers of the Sword Dancer
3 Gloves of Care
3 Athus' Touch

[Script Wrecked]

One fresh morning, the crisp air is disturbed by the crunching of sand and stones underfoot as the Beacon Tower cadets, Lor troop make their way along the foreshore of a less used dock. Waiting for them, two figures in front of an up turned longboat on the sands. As the troop draws close, the dwarven female steps forward to greet them.

"Good morning, cadets! It iz the lovely day, no?"

She looks across each of the troop with a welcoming smile.

"Mmm... Ourr home, the  city of Lor iz alzo the harbor. She iz zurrounded on the three zides by the sea. It iz zomething we would be foolish to be ignorring as parrt of ourr trraining. Zo, as she is announcing previously, the cadets arre having the opporrtunity to be learrning about the boat craft. Zis will be most useful in zuch a place, with all zis waterr about, no?" She gesticulates in the direction of the sea. Then her hand follows around to the other figure.

"Zis iz the Misterr James Standish. You will address him as the misterr, orr the zir. He will be making the inztruction of the boating."

A tall and lean man, dressed in a tailored jacket and pants of a military cut, steps forward and addresses the troop. He makes a brief introduction of himself, and begins by running through the various parts of the boat. As part of gaining familiarity, he soon has the troop scrubbing down the craft, cleaning off old barnacles, algae and other detritus. All the while, he points out the functionality of the vessel, and why things are so, perhaps with the occasional anecdote to illustrate his point.

After a good mornings' work with the boat back in the water, Argali addresses the troop once more.

"The boating sessions will be replacing the normal cadet training for the participants. She iz hoping all of you will be taking part at zome point. Initially, we are running the zingle class, zo those wishing to take parrt please be zteppng forrwarrd."

Several of the non-dwarven cadets volunteer without much ado or fuss. Argali casts an eye across the largely dwarven remainder.

"T'aint natural, ma'am."

A broad grin crosses Argali's face.

"No it iz not," she replies. "And yet, here we arre, living on the coast, by the sea. Zometimes, we must put azide our reluctances, take advantage of the opportunity as it presents itself, and embrrace zomething different."

A few more take somewhat hesitant steps forward.

"Very good!"

She signals to Standish, who has the volunteers climb aboard as he has instructed them earlier. Argali leads the rest of the troop pushing the boat out into the water, becoming quite drenched in the process.

With a wave to those onshore, Standish begins the first lesson.

[RollinsCat]

The First Lesson.

"Madam Trueaxe."   James gave a short fifteen-degree bow to Argali and turned to the class, hands clasped loosely behind his back and posture ruler-straight.  His black eyes roved over the men and women, most of them dwarves, and he resisted the impulse to slide his eyes shut while he listened to their emotional melody.

"Good morning Beacon Tower Cadets.  As Madam Trueaxe has said, I am James Standish.  I was born in West Gate and have spent a good portion of my life with the ocean beneath my feet."  He paused to stroke his neatly trimmed black beard and mustache, forcing his hand behind his back after a moment.  Thank you Minu...even if you won't kiss me until I shave.

"I will give you a brief history of myself.  My parents were independent fishermen.  They lived and died on the sea; I learned my boating and ship skills from them while still in diapers.  After the sea took them I entered Corsain naval service.  You won't find my records..."  He smile was close-lipped and brief "...because I was too young to be accepted and so I was creative with my name and history in order to enlist.  And while this may seem dishonest, it was an act of passionate patriotism for which I make no apologies."  His crisp West Gate accent was steady and he let his eyes stop on each cadet.

"Now, retired, I am again James Standish.  Madam Trueaxe has requested help training you and so I have volunteered.  As my home island was once, long ago, a target ripe for taking, so Lor may someday be considered low-hanging fruit.  I do not wish to see that happen.  I trust that none of you do either.  Therefore, let me introduce you to this, your first vessel."

He walked to the boat lying on the sand, running a sun-dark hand over the raised ridge.  "This is her keel; the ribs of the boat connect here.  The ribs are lapstraked and nailed."  He touched the front of the boat where the wood angled in to a sharp point. "The bow."  He walked to the squared-off other side.  "The stern."  

Argali handed him a bag which he took with another closed-lip smile.  "You'll notice your vessel has acquired a number of opportunistic sea creatures and a coating of sea moss.  She's made of oak.  Very sturdy.  But sea life can do damage over time.  It will need to be removed."  He laid out a series of chisels, each with a slight blunt to the beveled edged.  "Be careful not to gouge the wood."  The cadets shuffled forth and he saw to it that each held a chisel, touched the boat.  That each one felt the wood under their fingers.  He defined the parts, got in with them to demonstrate chiseling, scrubbed with them when the rough animal shells were gone.  His close-fitting black jacket was soon soaked, but the hull was clean and he gave a short nod to Argali.  He motioned for help to flip the boat, cleaning out debris from inside while Argali spoke once again.

After her cadets -- no, my class -- had volunteered, James waved them over to the shore and took a good look at each, pointing out pieces of armoring or items that had to be left on shore.  A final appraisal of the group and he raised his voice again.

"When you enter the boat for the first time, it will not be as walking onto a wagon.  We will practice the most difficult way first.  Let's get her in the sea."  Together the cadets slid the long rowboat into the ocean water, some shivering from the sudden cold.  James maneuvered the boat stern out and pulled the bow just barely onto the sand, holding down one side.  "You."  He motioned for a younger dwarf with a quick finger flip.  "Your name?"

"Rurik, sir."  Sir.  I could get used to that.

"Hold the other side of the bow, please."  He turned his head to the cadets.  

"Now, you will walk on to the boat from the shore.  Bend at the knees and immediately use the gunwales or the seats to keep yourself balanced.  Move down the center of the vessel and take a seat.  The next one on board will take a seat immediately opposite his or her predecessor.  We have seven volunteers and there are eight seats so the odd man will sit in the back left.  Do not take up your oars until instructed.  We will hold this as steady as we can for you."  He nodded to the young dwarf opposite him whom he had already christened Smith in his mind for the dwarf's top-heavy musculature.

They climbed on, the boat rocking and more so because of their unsteady balance.  James watched his class shift and try to remain centered while the wooden planks under their feet rose, tilted, and fell on gently splashing waves.  He stroked his baby-soft beard again and took a long step to the bow seat, settling, while Smith -- Rurik, must remember that -- scrambled in.

"We've discussed the basics of the vessel; shape, depth, materials.  What we could not discuss until right here, right now, is how you and the boat interact."  His crisp baritone rolled across the placid water.  From the looks on three of the faces, however, they may as well have been in a gale.  The other cadets pushed the rowing boat into the waiting sea with "better you than I" grins and sloshed back to shore to watch.  The boat slid fifteen or twenty feet on momentum and slowed, rocking.

"First." He stood, walking from front to back with knees slightly bent and a loose, springy gait.  "You are used to standing on ground, which resists you.  You are now standing over water.  Water does not resist you; you must accommodate it.  When you walk on a boat, or ship, keep your knees bent to absorb the motions."  He looked at two of the dwarves whose upper bodies spoke of swung hammers or axes, Smith one of them.

"It is not so different from using a weapon.  When you swing, do you not let the momentum of the swing start in your shoulders and end in your hips, with your torso as the fulcrum?"  He waited; nods followed.  "Here, then, your legs are your fulcrum.  Let the motions beneath your feet be the swing, and your legs are the means to dissipate that energy up -- "  He rocked the boat with his feet as the ocean was far too sleepy yet to give him the effect he wished " -- and through you."  Four pairs of hands grasped the gunwales while he stood, rolling the boat side to side.  "We will practice this in our next session.  Our first lesson, however, will be over..."  He scanned until a sandbar caught his eye, a wide beige shadow under the olive green water "...over there.  Please take up your oars.  You will hold the oars out.  On the first count you will all dip.  On the second count you will stroke the oar through the water.  On the third count you will bring the oar out of the water.  Follow the count.  Focus on the count."  

Wood scraped on metal as the oars were swiveled out, several banging together.  Frustrated silence followed.  He let the silence stretch a moment or two, listening, then his chin jerked up.  "One."  The oars were turned every which way; two of the humans and two of the dwarves had figured the correct positioning.  He took a moment to point to them and like leaves in the wind oars were turned to match.  He took a breath.  "Two."  Oars dipped, some for a mere second and others for the whole count.  Still, the boat moved, although jerkily.  "Three."  All the oars came out of the water and were quickly adjusted to match.  He gave them another tight smile.  "Good.  Again.  One..."

They reached the sandbar after two minute's inexpert rowing and one lazy circle trying to get the rhythm back.  The cadets gave him uneasy glances when he motioned for them to set the oars away and he walked to the stern to toss in the small anchor.  He remained quiet, taking the eighth seat and removing his greaves and boots before speaking.

"There are many things that are important to boating.  Balance.  Rowing.  But there is one thing that no one sitting in this boat can not know."  He hopped over the side, cold water lapping mid-thigh as his feet sunk into the sand.  "How many of you swim?"

Four hands rose and he motioned them in with him.  Three pairs of dwarven eyes turned, striken, to his.  His smile showed no teeth.  "Did you think you were going to walk home if the boat capsizes?"

Seven cadets rowed to shore hours later, exhausted and wet.  They exited the boat the way they got on, and James gave them a short bow.  "I look forward to our next lesson.  Practice your swimming.  Those who could not tread water for the full time, you will have another opportunity next session."

[LordCove]

On a busy morning in Mai, the Maiden's Folly make port in Lor and before the gangway is fully lowered a figure leaps from the deck and gracefully lands on the docks quickly marching off to find an escort of guards.

Angela along with Alantha make their way to Marshall Sasha Tomyris' office to hand over the crates which contain gifts to the Army, the Navy, the Guards and the Beacon Tower garrisons, the items are to be distributed as Marshall Sasha sees fit.

Besides from the Great Seal of Lor each item carries the seal of their creator/benefactor, a tigress
battling its own shadow. The tiger itself is not covered in the usual kind of stripes,
but with clearly visible lightning bolts.

Items for donation to the Army/Navy/Guards of Lor:

35 Platinum Chain Shirts
35 Platinum Chain Mails
35 Platinum Half Plates
35 Platinum Full Plates
215 Platinum Helmets
20 Adamantium Helmets
28 Adamantium Shields
10 Emerald Rings of Bull Strength (1 Exceptional)
10 Emerald Rings of Cat's Grace
15 Diamond Rings of Bull Strength (1 Exceptional)
15 Diamond Rings of Cat's Grace (1 Exceptional)
15 Platinum Rings set with 3 Alexandrites
10 Ilsare's Fiery Eye
20 Yew Long Bows
5 Dorand's Brace
3 Gloves of Austerity
3 Bracers of the Sword Dancer
3 Gloves of Care
3 Athus' Touch

Items picked up... ready to be handed out.

[RollinsCat]

One Week Later: The Second Lesson.

"Good morning.  Please remove anything that will weigh you down and then put the boat in the surf."  James Standish and a stout man on his right strolled to the cadets under skies pregnant with rain.  Several looked skyward and back to him with a faint hope in their eyes.  His voice carried crisply in the salt air.  "Rain or shine, cadets."  

With grumbles they began to drop tools, daggers; two had ore in their pockets.  He favored them with a tight smile.  "Mister Dainsson here has volunteered to keep watch over your items.  I suggest we consider not bringing them at all next time.  Canteens only."

The boat was shoved into the swells, and James's eyes fairly glowed at the rough chop.  He dropped his own swords into the pile and entered the water with the now soaked cadets.

"This is the more common condition of the sea during the fall and early winter here.  Lady Doom smiled on you last week."  He took hold of the gunwale near the bow, and motioned one of the three human cadets; Gavin?  Yes; to take the other side.  "Our first time entering the boat, you only had to walk on.  Now, we add waves and water."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Mister Rurik."

"Yer said last week that were the hardest way on the boat.  This looks way harder."

He pondered that with a half smile -- Muse, got me! -- then nodded.  "If I had told you it was the easiest, would you have come back?"  A snort and some shared looks, and the muscled dwarf shook his head.  "This is not as difficult as it looks but it will take coordination and communication.  Pair off on either side.  Everyone let go of the boat; only myself and Mister Gavin should be holding on."

The dwarves matched themselves by friendship or size while the humans stood opposite each other.  James remained across from Gavin.  "Here is what we will do.  The first two -- that's us, Mister Gavin -- will demonstrate.  I will get in first.  I will let Mister Gavin know that I am planning on getting in; Mister Gavin will then hold his side of the boat to counterbalance me.  Mister Gavin, I am entering the boat."  James pushed himself up and tipped over the side.  He tried to hold himself there a moment to demonstrate, his hips balanced in the gunwale, but his arms quivered and he turned it into a twist and landed with a thump between two seats, bruising his rear on the way.  Stars and song, I hope they didn't see that.

"I will now remain opposite Mister Gavin, who is going to do the same."  The man, not yet to his twenties by his smooth face and shining gold hair, started to push himself up.  "AFTER he informs me of his intentions and I give my assent."  Gavin let his arms go slack with a frown.  "When Mister Gavin starts to enter the boat, it will tip toward him.  I will then lean the opposite way, moving back to center as he comes in.  Mister Gavin?"

"Yes Mister Standish."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."  A long pause, then -- "Er, I am entering the boat, Mister Standish."  James nodded, leaning, and Gavin pushed up, holding himself like a gymnast on the edge of the boat before gracefully sliding in and turning to sit.  Damned kids.

"Very good, Mister Gavin.  Next."  He watched as the pairs each tried the exercise and allowed himself a pleased expression when only one dwarf, with luck the one who could already swim, fell back in.

"Good.  Very good.  Now you see that it's calm, coordinated communication.  The three C's of the sea."  And thank you Daniel, for being my role model in that.  They wonder why I spent so much time watching you?

"We will now practice moving on the boat, as promised."  He demonstrated again, walking back and forth.  "Keep your knees slightly bent; only slightly, enough that they can absorb the motion."  It was harder today with the waves and he had to concentrate on keeping his balance.  "You will take turns.  This is called getting your sea legs.  Once you have mastered walking in a small boat such as this, anything larger will seem easy."  He gave Rurik a wry smile.  "And that is the truth."

This didn't go nearly as well.  Bruises were sustained from falling comrades; two dwarves and one of the humans fell into the cold sea and were mightily displeased when he calmly insisted they use their newly learned water entry technique to get back in the boat.  Repeating the exercise, the rest eventually kept their balance -- but one human, Marcus, fell again and again.  Teeth gritted, he kept trying.  Eight painful landings later he stood, shoulders slumped but face angry, teetering to fall again as the waves had picked up.  James pushed him to sit.

"Mister Marcus.  It's possible you may not be suited for this."  He tried to speak gently and maintain the accent and the baritone; tricky.  Marcus looked away, over the ocean.  

"I want ta help, Sir.  I can't get inta the regular military account o' my ear so --"  

James frowned.  "What about your ear?"

"Oh, cain't hear from it much.  Got stuck with a pitchfork when I were younger."  The young man turned and pushed untidy brown hair aside; there was a scar that trailed across his cheek and into his right ear canal.  James stroked his beard, and sighed.

"Mister Marcus.  You have probably suffered an injury to the part of your ear that aids balance. Have you always been clumsy?"

"Yessir.  Why I cain't do regular soldier, sir."

James resisted the impulse to twiddle his mustache and sat back on the violently rocking seat.  "Mister Marcus, you will not, I'm afraid, get used to this.  While your swimming is acceptable, your sea legs are not."  The cadet's face seemed to slump inward, his heavy brows contracting.  James reached for his neck, zipping a gold anchor charm back and forth.  "However...can you use a drum?"

The young man cocked his head at the non-sequitur.  "I kin beat out a tune, sure."

"Can you speak loudly and clearly?  Speak as if you were giving instructions to the boat."

"Um -- okay...um...OARS UP!"  His voice, raised to carry, was a strong, youthful tenor.  "Row tha boat!  Stop rowing!  Um, turn tha boat!  On my mark!"  James nearly grinned, forcing it to a closed-lipped smile instead and motioned for Marcus to stop.

"Mister Marcus, you have just become our coxswain.  You will sit in the back and make sure the rowers stay coordinated to the beat of your hands.  You will call the commands to the rowers.  You will be the only one who can see where we are going so I hope your eyes make up for that ear.  You will be in charge of watching gear as well.  You will stay with the boat.  Your movements will be limited to entering, drumming, and exiting."

The young man's face lit up, and he scrambled to the stern on all fours.  Shoving himself between the seventh and eighth seats, he began tapping on the wood in something that could charitably be called rhythmic.

James looked down at the muddy boat bottom, hands clenched.  Don't help him.  Don't correct him.  For the Muse's sake don't drum along!  Keep your hands off the wood, Tashe.  He'll learn. He took a breath and looked up.  "Oars out."  A clatter of wood; one collision, quickly fixed.  The oars turned mostly at angle to the water.  "Mister Marcus, the beat -- ONE two THREE four."  Marcus began to slap his hands on the weathered oak.  "On the next beat -- oars up -- oars around!  Dip! Up!  Around!  Dip!  Roll your shoulders, let your legs and arms do the work..."

The boat moved, in fits and starts but then with a smoother motion, toward the sandbar.  "Good."  He tried to resist sounding chipper but wicked delight trickled into his voice anyway.  "Are we ready to swim?"

[RollinsCat]

Two Weeks Later:  The Third Lesson.

" 'e 's roit mad 'ere 'e tinks I'm marryin' 'er, 'e is.  Dinna care 'o 'er fadder be."

"Make yer part of a good business, though, cousin -- and jess a bit high-spirited, she.  Nice beard on her too, and -- "  The speaker halted when his older cousin held up a hand.  Music, singing, floated over the tall dune.  A deep, warm tenor clashing with the cool morning air.

" 'oo the 'ell?"  They started forward again, feet crunching on the gravelly sand.

"Who keeps this lowly third mate burning...what keeps me at the porthole yearning...whose song rings round me sharp and bright, her face a vision slowly turning?

A gaze like the ocean, a voice of the sea, her touch an untamed wave was the undoing of me...

The melody rips me up inside...an acid bath to my pride...humming it to myself over and again, a hymn, a penance, a love denied..."

The singing stopped, wind dissipating the notes to background warbles and the movement of animals.  The dwarves crested the sand hill and looked up and down the beach.  A fisherman on the aging dock; an older couple, farther up, picking shells; and Mister Standish sitting near the boat, long legs drawn up under his chin as he faced the waves.  They slid down the sandy slope toward the water.

By the mist on his hair, pulled back as always into a neat ponytail, Standish been there a while. His head turned a tiny fraction as they walked up.  "Mister Gloim.  Mister Rurik."

" 'oy, were 'at 'o, soir?"

"Was that me what?"  He gave the rough ocean a last look and stood.

"Singin' loik."

"Ah.  I heard that as well -- sadly, no, I have neither the talent nor the time to learn."  The dwarves shared a skeptical look around; the fisherman was moving to a less noisy dock, the beach around them otherwise deserted.   Mister Standish shrugged.  "Some romantic behind a dune, perhaps, composing songs to a lady?"

"Must be then, sir."  Rurik shrugged as well and the dwarves set to cleaning the hull, James as always scrubbing with them.  There was little small talk until the other cadets arrived.

"Good morning.  Today we will work on rowing and turning.  I hope you've been practicing your swimming."  His tight lipped smile matched the slight dip in his thick black brows; a few cadets shared nervous grins.  "Let's get her in the water."

"Soir, 'ow innit wer not used 'at dock yet?"

"Because that would be too easy, Mister Gloim.  When you are rowing for a purpose, whether to move troops or sneak behind enemy lines or infiltrate a ship, there will not likely be a dock handy."  A few of the students nodded and the dwarf grunted, as close to assent as he was likely to give.  "Into the water.  We will practice our method of entry from last week."

The exercise went smoother than last time, with James's clipped baritone talking them through the motions once again.  Oars were taken up with something closer to precision.  Marcus nestled in his chosen spot between seats seven and eight, tapping the beat on a small drum he'd brought and scanning ahead, and the long rowboat sliced across the chopping sea.  James watched and listened, leaning back in the bow seat.  Gloim and Rurik are powerhouses, good rhythm, good strokes.  But those two... He focused on the two young dwarves in the middle, just ahead of the humans Gavin and Levi.  They're letting Gloim and Rurik do the work, are they?

"Oars up."  The oars were yanked from the water and up through the oarlocks.  The boat continued to move on momentum, slowing to the waves' resistance.  "Mister Yurli, switch places with Mister Rurik."  The dwarf hesitated. And you know why, don't you.  "A problem, Mister Yurli?"

"Nay, sir."  The dwarf, hair and eyes as black as Standish's own, rose with compact grace and moved easily forward to switch places.  Best balance on the boat, myself included.  How do I get through to him?

James nodded once as Rurik stumbled but caught himself, landing in seat six with a thump and moving the oar out and ready.  "Oars out.  Row on Mister Marcus's beat."  They gained momentum again, speeding along as the surf was left behind and the water grew deeper and darker.  He gave himself a few minutes to watch them, listening to the Heartsong of the wild ocean and the timing of their oars.

"We will be turning around soon.  I will describe the process.  Keep rowing as I do."  They gave him their attention and he smiled inwardly as their bodies moved forward and back on what might soon be instinct.  "We are going to turn right.  You are rowing facing away from your destination; remember what we discussed about starboard and port.  Regardless of which side of your body is left and right, you -- "  He pointed to the line to Marcus's right " -- are starboard side and you -- "  To the rowers on Marcus's left -- "Are port side."

"Mister Marcus, you will begin learning coxswain commands now.  To stop us, you will call 'hold water'.  All rowers will then drag their oar blades flat against the water and the boat will stop.  On your call.  Rowers be ready."  He nodded to Marcus who had kept the rowing beat even as James had been talking.  The shaggy brown-haired youth tapped, counting to himself, then called out.

"Hold water!"  Oars turned and the boat wound into a lazy spin.  "HOLD WATER!"  Marcus's bark caught the rowers by surprise and they put more back into holding the oars still.  The boat shuddered to a stop, rocking gently.  James gave Marcus a slow nod.

"Good.  We will be doing a lot of that on the return trip.  Now, to turn us, you will call 'hold port' or 'hold starboard'.  The rowers on the side thus commanded will drag their oars in the water, while the rowers on the opposite side will lift their oars, and the boat will turn.  Rowers, be listening for his command and obey it immediately or we may capsize.  Begin rowing."  He nodded to Marcus again.

Tap, tap, tap, tap -- "HOLD PORT!"  The command rang over the deep green water and two of the three turned their oars; Gavin did not and neither did Yurli, starboard.  The boat spun in a tight circle and began to tip.  There was a moment's sheer panic - bodies flung themselves flat to check the tipping and James had to hold on to his seat, literally, but the rocking finally quelled and they settled at an angle to the beach.

"To your seats.  Starboard oars only, straighten us out.  Gentle strokes or we'll over correct." Yurli, Rurik and Levi tapped the water gingerly and the boat turned, shifting only a little too far.  "Mister Marcus, the command for the rowers to prepare is 'ready to row'.  When you are satisfied that they are in place, the command for them to begin is 'row'.  On your call."

"READY TA ROW!"  Thumps and creaks, the metallic whine of the oarlocks, and a moment's hush.  "ROW!"  Tap, tap, tap, tap...James allowed himself one smile, leaning forward with elbows on thighs and his chin resting on the steeple of his fingers.

"HOLD PORT!"  The boat spun around with a shimmy.  "READY TA ROW -- ROW!"  Marcus was a few moments long for the course to be straight, but the boat did not tip.  James smiled and nodded.

"Again."  They gathered speed and Marcus, eyes forward, counted down to a number only he knew.

"HOLD STARBOARD!"  They wobbled and only completed half the turn, Levi's oar half out of  the water and Rurik turning his to stop the boat.  Marcus let out a quiet sigh and sat straighter.  "READY TA ROW -- ROW!."

"Again."  His voice -- no, James's -- echoed strangely in his head.  He half-listened to Marcus but something picked at him...that voice.  Master Hyogo.  He heard the clipped West Gate baritone as if he were sitting in the recital room, staring at his score and waiting for the inevitable command..."Again".  Was that me speaking or Hyogo speaking in my head?  'Mister Reid.  You will begin again.  Three octave arpeggio, G minor.  Lighter bowing, please.  Again.  Again.  Again...'

"-ROW!"

 James snapped from the memory to find Marcus watching him.  He gave a shaky nod and leaned back, projecting confidence only remembered at that moment.  "Again."  Muse, it's working.  And as much as I hated that man, it worked on me as well.  I feel dirty inside.

An hour later the boat was stopping and turning with only minor catastrophes, oars bumping and poor stroke timing chief among them.  But Gloim isn't taking any of Yurli's nonsense, is he? And Rurik has Aingus in line as well.

"Take us to the beach, Mister Marcus.  You did well today, all of you.  You have begun to learn the basics and I do not fear as much as I did two weeks ago that you might all drown.  We will practice this again next week until we are sure we will not overturn the boat."

[mixafix]

The Prantz Navy at Lor were seen to engage in a series of exercises involving a new batch of marines and sailors recently arrived to augment the regulars there. Some of the original crews rotated home as a routine maintenance plan was announced for their sea gonig fleet.
 
 In other news cross border joint patrols reported no new troubles and a settled peace along the northern border which saw a return to quality farming and rural trade.
 
 Meanwhile a small rat infestation at Lor was blamed on city wide cuts on services.

[Script Wrecked]

A dwarven lass is seen emerging from various drains and sewers about Lor. She takes particular note of the landmarks about the points of egress, and seems to trace various routes about the streets before disappearing underneath again. Her task has been made all the more unpleasant by the increased number of vermin in the sewers.

[Dezza]

*Three deep dwarves with no papers and no willingness to speak to anyone were found gagged and trussed near the docks in Lor by members of the Local Militia early this morning. A note was found tacked to the back of one saying 'A couple of spies courtesy of the Four Pillars' but nothing else was forthcoming of who they were, why they were bound and where they came from. Rumours have it that the Marshal ordered that the dwarves were to be escorted to the edge of Lor lands and released with orders that if they returned to Lor without papers they would be tried for sedition and spying.*

[mixafix]

In a recent announcement from the twin mayors office, the mayors confirmed a recent appointment made by the marshal of Lor
 
 Argali the dwarf, unofficial champion of the dwarven retinue at Lor was appointed Captain of the Beacons with responsibility for the dwarves manning the beacons and their rotation to other related jobs where their responsibility passed to other commanders. The Dwraves of the beacons and their newly appointed commander now fell under the domain of the army of Lor. Any seconded duty within the city fell under the authority of Diet member Swann and her special portfolio for city defence.
 
 In other news 4 Lor traders were arrested in separate incidents for spying near Prantz and returned across the border by gracious decree of the Court of Rael with instruction not to return on pain of death.

[RollinsCat]

Four Weeks Later: The Fifth Lesson.

"HOLD STARBOARD!"  They turned in a controlled spin, the best yet; Marcus grinned as he beat the drum.  "LET 'ER RUN!"  Oars came up and rested in the oarlocks as the boat skimmed over brilliant green water.  

James resisted the impulse to grin himself.  "Stand!"  He and the rowers stood, bent in a crouch to absorb the action of both the water and the boat.  "Very good."  He motioned them down and sat himself, letting the small craft coast.  Rurik's enjoying this.  Yurli and Gavin too.

The boat jerked to a stop on an eddy and spun a moment, then drifted lazily under the unseasonable warm sun.  They were out far enough that the Lor beach was reduced to a thin crescent strip.  Marcus dropped the drum and tipped his head back; Levi was squinting at something under the water, leaning over the side to get a better look.  James let them sit, listening for when the mood shifted from readiness to relaxation.  After a few minutes he clasped his hands in front of him.

"We're getting there.  Now I promised you this morning something different, and I do deliver.  Yurli, Aingus, Levi, to starboard."  They started to switch positions but James raised a hand.  "Don't change seats.  All rowers starboard."  Confused glances and they shuffled over, tipping the gunwale dangerously close to the waterline.  James nodded to Marcus, who tied his drum inside an oilskin bag attached to the boat.

James stood, hands clasped behind his back.  "You are rowing and turning reasonably well; soon we'll work on more precise maneuvers.  But I have been given broad discretion on what to teach, and I am a pragmatist."  Liar.

"I am not content to teach you to merely row, just as I assume you would not be content to be taught merely to swing a sword, with no knowledge of defense.  Or to work iron with no knowledge of how to fix it if the temper is off.  Or -- thank you, Hammer Birch -- to make weapon molds with no instruction on recovering the clay should it be imperfect."  He paused, giving the cadets a moment to think.

"You can all swim well enough to stay alive and you now see the value in that.  You also have become very good at water entries -- from the surf.  Yet there comes a time when all your skills must come together, all the things you've learned coalesce in one critical moment.  Such as -- "  

He took a long stride onto the starboard gunwale and savored the horror on their faces as all two-hundred and fifteen pounds of him hit the edge.  They scrambled for the port side, knowing it was already too late.  He weighed enough; he'd spent a lifetime surprising people with how heavy he really was.  Even a thin man carries weight if he's tall enough.

The boat rolled with a sucking sound that was imperceptible under the hollers and splashing of bodies hitting the water.  He used what resistance was left to jump in feet-first, submerging and splaying to create drag.  He couldn't see much upon opening his eyes; a thrashing blur above him where they had rolled into the sea.  He hung in the water using every bit of his vocal training to keep his breath in.  He lasted just under two minutes.  Muse, my lungs are trashed. Kicking up, he broke the surface to see the boat upside down and listing at the stern.  He counted seven heads and shook the water from his face with a sudden, dimpled grin that came unbidden and refused to leave.

"What shall we do now?   Mister Aingus?"

The young dwarf spit salty ocean, snarled.  "Wot in tha pits were that fer!"

"Preparation.  I suggest you grab hold of the boat before it sinks. It is quite a long swim back to the beach."  His accent was intact but the baritone fled under the pressure of keeping his lungs inflated while treading water.  Rurik, Marcus and Yurli were closest and kicked over to grab the side sliding into the waves.  

"Soir, she's goin' fast!"  Gloim took hold by the stern.

"Calmly.  Communicate.  Coordinate.  And stay out from under the hull; sides only."  He swam over and took hold.  "Righting a capsized craft is not difficult."  Or so I read. The rowboat listed further and the stern end dipped under the water; Levi was now hanging from the bow.  Stars and song Argali is going to kill me if I lose this boat!

"Everyone on this side!  Everyone!"  Legs thrashed and water churned.  He could feel the ocean sucking at the hull; three oars floated loose.  "On the count of three, flip!  ONE!  TWO!  THR-"

Gloim, Rurik, Yarli and Gavin heaved as one and the boat was nearly airborne for a moment.  Seawater poured over them as the craft rotated around, rocked wildly.  There was a meaty thump and someone yelled; James took a long scrape to the forearm.  But the boat settled low in the water and the bailing buckets were still attached.

"Very good."  His heart was pounding so hard he could not believe they didn't hear it - it sounded like a tambourine player in his ears.  "Two in first to bail."   He eyed the waterlogged craft.  "The two lightest; Mister Gavin and...Mister Marcus."  The young men helped each other in by rote and James smiled then did another head count.  Levi was struggling, dipping below the surface, and had a knot the size of a robin's egg on his forehead.  "Get Levi in the boat.  We'll steady you."  He swam around and Gloim followed; Rurik and Aingus heaved Levi up just as they grabbed the other side.  The heavy-set youth flipped over the edge, collapsed in a heap and shook.

Marcus sat down to bail while Gavin attacked the water in a frenzy.  Buckets of ocean flew over the stern and bow; inch by inch the boat rose.  "Mister Aingus and Mister Gloim, inside."  They heaved themselves inside in turn, taking over bailing.  "Mister Rurik, let's get the oars."

He kicked off the hull with a satisfaction that was all too brief.  Grabbing one oar, he turned to swim back and saw a long grey shape slice the water off the bow.  He was dumbstruck for a moment, then the salty ocean on his forearm quietly pricked his fear.  A faint ribbon of red trailed from below his wrist to his elbow and into the sea.

Calm.  Communicate.  Coordinate. "Mister Rurik, leave that oar.  Let's get on board.  Now."  He swam over, Standish's facade in place but for his too-wide black eyes.  

"Sir, somethin' jess brushed me leg."  Rurik's eyes widened a bit.

"Get in the boat!"  He hung off the side while Rurik flipped over the starboard gunwale like a frightened dolphin, then heaved himself in.  Something bumped the stern; Marcus took one look and turned back with a pale face.  His mop of unruly brown hair lay like a skullcap.  He pushed it from his eyes and did a quick survey of the water level inside the craft.

"READY TA ROW!"  Aingus and Rurik dropped the buckets and took their seats while the rest grabbed oars.  James pushed a groggy Levi into the sloshing center aisle, taking station across from Gavin. "ROW!"  

The rowboat was sluggish and riding low with the extra water, dragging even as they put all their muscle into it.  James forced himself to keep up with Gavin, lungs heaving and legs shaking; the dwarves, all four of them, picked up a rowing tune in time to Marcus's drum.  

"And heave, and ho, and in, we go, and heave, and ho..."  The four of them, all basso, formed a rich quartet that reminded him of Rocky.  He bit his lip to keep from singing along, assuming he could through his gasping.  The boat picked up speed and rode the swells toward shore, gaining even more momentum from waves pushing the stern.  Ohhh hells...

"HOLD WATER!"  James snapped out the command; oars flipped, but the weight of the water in the boat plus occupants was too much and two oars snapped.  The boat skewed and rushed in sideways, sliding over slick low tide sand and grinding into the beach before spilling the rowers and the other forty buckets of sea as carelessly as a child tired of a toy.

A long moment of silence was broken by a single groan.  He turned his head and saw Gavin wiping sand from his face.  Aingus started in low with a string of what James safely assumed was invective, entirely in dwarven.  He heard someone else roll over.  Looking up, the grin returned, and his stomach clenched against a champagne feeling and lost.

He laughed.  Just a little at first, then gaining steam as surely as the boat had, until he was awash in helpless snorts and giggles.  Aingus and Levi stared hard at him -- that made it funnier, terminally funny, and he heard Gloim and Rurik start to chuckle as well.  He thought he heard Gavin join in and he let it take him, uncertainty and fear released in helpless, teary whooping.

Someone walked over him and he gulped for air as the giggles wore off.  The sound of wood on wood -- creaking.  He sat straight up, slapping his palms into the sand.  "Well.  I'd say you all passed that little test."  Rurik and Gloim were righting the boat and collecting the remaining unbroken oars, grins still wide on their faces.  Marcus was tending to Levi, who was laughing softly now; Gavin was shaking off sand with a huge smile.  Aingus turned to give James a steady glare.

"Yer lost yer mind."

"Mister Aingus, you may be right.  But tell me -- after that, do you not feel more prepared for an eventual capsize?"  The tall dwarf just looked at him, jaw unhinging and eyes bulging, then shook his head and stomped off to help Gloim.  James watched him for a moment before turning his gaze to the others.

"You all handled that as well as I could have hoped.  But I'm going to suggest that we not tell Madam...Captain Trueaxe about that particular test. "  He smiled at the cadets, and most smiled back.  "It will be our little secret."

Aingus scowled; James caught Gloim's eye and shifted his gaze quickly back to the sour-faced dwarf.

"Aye, Aingus.  Yer'll keep it locked tight, 'on't yer?  Jess started 'avin fun wit it, oi did..."  Gloim fixed his gaze on Aingus, and Rurik stood beside his older cousin, also staring.  Aingus turned to Yurli who gave him a blank look; the humans watched, mouths shut tight.

"Aye."  The word was snapped out with a click of teeth, but Gloim and Rurik seemed satisfied.  

James let out the breath he was holding .  "Next week, we will concentrate on rowing technique, turning, and precision.  No surprises.  I promise."  He stood, taking a moment to settle his face, and went to help with the clean-up.