Lor

[RollinsCat]

N/A *see below*

[akata]

Once again the Maiden's Folly makes port in Lor, and a woman with curious looking cat eyes is seen walking hand-in-hand with a dark elf to Marshal Sasha Tomyris' office, followed by guards carrying large boxes between them containing more gifts for the army of Lor.

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

10 Emerald Rings of Eagle's Splendor
10 Emerald Rings of Owl's Wisdom
10 Emerald Rings of Fox's Cunning
10 Emerald Rings of Endurance
15 Diamond Rings of Bull's Strenght (1 exceptional)
15 Diamond Rings of Cat's Grace
30 Diamond Rings of Fox's Cunning
30 Diamond Rings of Endurance (2 exceptional)
30 Diamond Rings of Owl's Wisdom (1 exceptional)
30 Diamond Rings of Eagle's Splendor (4 exceptional)

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

[Dezza]

// Meadow Saffron (Angela Swann) has made a sizable donation in goods that are too numerous to mention to the value of approximately half a million true to the Four Pillars in order for them to solidify their position, enlist new people and turn the fight in the deep sewers against the opposing organisations there.

[Script Wrecked]

The newly [POST=1647102]appointed[/POST] Captain of the Beacons organises a review of the beacon tower recruits. Two adjacent garrisons(1) meet at a middle tower where they are put through their paces. It soon becomes apparent that the garrisons, while more or less competent, have had no real experience moving en masse or operating in large(r) groups. This is addressed with their first lesson in group drill.

The reviews are rounded out with the archery competition, wrestling, various heaving and hefting of stones, and rounds of "defend the tower", which are (largely) non-injurious to the participants.

All the while the captain maintains a watchful eye over those taking part, looking for those showing a bit more acumen than their fellows, a bit more potential than just guard.


(1) with the vacated towers being temporarily manned by the Lor [POST=1575352]rotation[/POST] contingent

[RollinsCat]

Six Weeks Later: The Seventh Lesson.

He'd already cleaned the boat, up before the sun.  Bella's sweet notes had drifted up and down the beach since dawn and he felt more centered than he had in weeks for the playing.  At some point -- he wasn't sure exactly when, in the grip of nervous preparation -- a cog had anchored offshore; he swung his arms in a full wave and saw it returned.  Good, he's here.  I hope he didn't steal that ship.

He was wiping algae from his hands when the first cadets arrived.  Marcus, Levi and Yurli; they noted the tidy boat, oars set neatly, and looked at him.  He smiled his usual closed-lip smile and gazed back to the cog.  Gloim and Rurik, still arguing the merits of some unnamed dwarven lass, came next, followed by the sour-faced Aingus.  Gavin ran up full-tilt a few minutes later with blood covering his tunic.

"Stars and -- Gavin, were you attacked?"  James looked quickly behind the crimson-daubed youth and scanned for an opponent.  The young man laughed.

"Naw, my pa and I butchered a pig is all."  He grinned at Standish.  "Figured it'd wash off when you made us swim or tipped the boat again!"

James relaxed and tapped his heart in acknowledgement of the hit.  "No capsizing practice today.  I've prepared the boat in advance so that we may have extra time on the water."  He gestured for them to push the craft into the surf.  "I have another surprise for you -- one I think you'll enjoy."  Mild waves slapped the rowboat in a natural percussion as they walked it out until they were almost unable to stand.  

"I've heard the rumblings of how it 'tain't right' for dwarves to be on water.  With that in mind, I'd like to introduce you to someone.  Row for the cog offshore."  This is either the best or the worst idea I have ever had...

The boat barely rocked as they slung over and to their seats.  Marcus shoved his hair aside and took the stern seat they'd built for him, drum in hand.  "Ready to row."  The young man no longer yelled; the time James had spent teaching him to project his voice had paid off.  Working around Marcus's hearing loss had been a challenge but the coxswain had a solid enough intellect and was motivated.  It was he, without James's prompting, who figured out to yell, then project, back and forth until he could tell the difference by the vibrations in his damaged ear, and this pleased James immensely.  

"Row!"  The boat lurched then moved toward open water.  James sat back, watching his class.  The dwarves started singing to the beat of the drum, with Gavin and Levi joining in; Marcus's eyes swept the horizon as they drew closer to the small single-mast bobbing on the glittering ocean.  

"Hold water."  Oars turned and the rowboat slowed abruptly.  The cog was only a few feet away.  James stood and waved; a rope sailed over, landing near Yurli's feet with a soft whump.

"Permission to climb aboard!"  James stood and squinted in bright morning light, even though he knew who to expect.  The others squinted as well and there was a communal intake of breath as a compact, absurdly muscled figure appeared at the break in the rails where the gangplank was laid flat.  

"Ahoy, shortbeards!  Climb aboard!  Kurn Blackwater welcomes ye!"  The cadets blinked at each other, then Rurik grinned and grabbed the rope as the others rose.  James waited, watching Marcus.

"Drop anchor!"  Good, you remembered. The anchor was tossed; it was not yet deep water and the iron hook bit quickly.  James waved a hand at the rope and they hauled in to bump the side of the flat-keel cog.  Rurik was the first up.

"Up ye go, up ye go -- "  Kurn's ground-gravel voice resounded above.  He sounds in a fine mood.  Hells, he probably did steal the ship. "Mind yer feet, deck's wet."

James went last, after a quick securing of the rowboat.  He used the look-over to sing a song of strength, furtively, quietly, to himself.  But the risks of being caught spellsinging were less than that of falling off the rope.  The cadets were standing in a loose group when he climbed onto the deck, watching Kurn and a pock-faced human with a range of emotions.  He settled himself into James and walked to them.

"Beacon Tower Cadets, meet First Mate Kurn Blackwater.  A dwarf -- and one of the best sailors you'll find in any port.  Mister Blackwater was recommended to me by a friend and I've asked him to come speak to us today to debunk some of the myths surrounding dwarves and water.  You may address him as First Mate Blackwater."  He took a step back and bobbed his head to Kurn.

"THE BEST ye'll find in any port.  This be Jack, he be helpin' me sail today."  The human with the pitted skin nodded once and headed below deck; Kurn turned his attention back to the cadets.  "I be tellin' ye lads, there's nothin' like life on the sea.  Grew te manhood on a ship!  Devil's Reef it was called fer that's what it surely was, crew was the worst of the worst -- "

James took a long step back to the side between his class and Kurn and broke in.  "You told me why you felt dwarves make better sailors.  I think the cadets would be interested in your opinion on that."

"Eh?  Aye we be.  Best  sailors on the sea!  Talls got too much leg, too unstable.  We stay put through winds and rain -- a storm'd have te tear the boat apart before it kin move a dwarf!"  There were chuckles and smiles, Yurli nudged Levi with a smug nod.  Rurik and Gavin has their eyes glued to the mast and sail, only looking at Kurn once in a while to nod in that way that students have to deflect attention when their minds are elsewhere.  The leather-skinned dwarven sailor grinned and raised his voice to a bellow.  "YE LOT PAYIN' ATTENTION!?"

Rurik and Gavin swiveled their heads in guilty unison, but it was Marcus who spoke up.  "First Mate Blackwater, I weren't raised suspicious of tha sea, but I gotta ask -- seems a quick way ta die, floatin' on a piece of wood over water."

"Weeeelll, true 'nuff, but it makes yer a man, too.  The sea don't forgive ye, lads.  She's a mean, mean woman, worse than any dock floozy and she'll cost ye more if yer not careful.  But she got a way of training one's quickness too - every lurch or wave kin cast ye overboard into the circling sharks below, even on the brightest day.  Ye either be sure of foot or quick of reflex or ye be dead to those dark waters, never ter be seen again...but then, fer every time yer livin' on the edge of her mercy, ye have a moment when yer on smooth water with a warm sun, full sails, a box of booty and the wind tickin' yer skin, and ye remember...oh, yeah, this is why we do this."  A light breeze swirled across the cog's deck just then and ruffled the sailcloth; Kurn's mossy-toothed smile was nearly beatific.

" 'ow 'bout a story, then?  From yer time on tha sea?"  Aingus was more relaxed than James remembered ever seeing him and the dwarf's question held genuine curiosity.

"A story, eh?  I'll tell ye a story 'bout the last trip I took, the Jacksonvilet she was, crew tried te take over the ship!  Worked out well fer me though, I ended up first mate after we sent most of the original crew te the sharks -- "  The cadets blinked, a few mouths hanging open.  "Twas that crew what mutinied, lads, close yer yaps!"  James squinted, started to open his own mouth, shut it again.  That's not how I remember it but okay...

"Cap'n worked out a deal fer us te remove then, after I took her half-orc Master at Arms out first mind ye.  Now that's a story lads -- I threw him overboard, alive, and the orcblood bassard swam all the way back to Fort Vehl te challenge me!"  He grinned again, warming into his recounting.  Rurik edged closer to the sail and began fingering the lines.

" He were seen all over, Missone, Dreger, ye name it.  I sat in the arena in Vehl waitin' fer the big bassard but he didn't show, took te tryin' te shake information out of folks 'bout me whereabouts.  Bloody waste of time -- I was right there waitin'!  Finally showed his ugly face at a story-tellin'contest an' I had him then.  Faced off against him and tore him a new orc hole!  Dragged him outside, chopped him te bits -- now whole town be fuller orc pirate parts, har!"  

James cleared his throat, looking for a distraction.  "You've probably done the world a service, then, Mister Blackwater.  Mister Rurik, did you want to see how those sails work?"

The youth nodded, eyes bright.  James moved toward him.  Yurli stood close as well, eyeing Kurn with an expression that shifted from disgust to fascination and back.  "That's the mainsheet, used to keep the sail in trim.  You hold it thus -- " He took the rope in a two-handed grip and demonstrated.  "This lets you move the sail around to catch the wind.  These are the halyards, lines that raise the sails.  Those are downhauls, to let them down.  These three are the running rigging.  This is a small cog so things are not as complex as a larger sailing ship but this gives you a good idea of how it works."  He put the lines in their hands, explaining, letting them tug and turn.  At some point he turned to find Kurn watching him with an unnervingly canny expression.  "Yes, Mister Blackwater?"

"Ye always had a beard, Standish?  Ye seem familiar some'ow."

"As long as I've know me I've had one, yes."  Technically true...

"Issat so.  Hm."  Kurn turned away and Standish left the cadets discussing the sails.  He walked to Kurn, leaning close and whispering.

"You didn't steal this ship, did you Mister Blackwater?"

The dwarf gave him a flat-eyed look. "And what if I did?  Ye asked me to show yer shortbeards a dwarf can sail.  Reckon that leaves the equipment procurement te me, eh?"  James let a hard breath out his nose and Kurn flicked a twisted grin.  "I be kiddin' ye.  This time.  Ye owe Dockmaster Kenty five hunnerd True though."

James merely nodded.  "Think we can take them out for a sail?"

"Aye, the puckered lad's about te wet his pants over the wheel and rudder."  Standish looked and Kurn was right; Aingus had both meaty hands on the wheel, stroking it, eyes out to sea.  Rurik, Gavin, Levi, and Marcus were still playing with the sailing lines; Yurli was now poking around by the ladder leading below deck.  Only Gloim stood by the rail, watching but not participating.

"Then they're yours for now, Mister Blackwater, and I'll assist."

"ARIGHT LISSEN UP!"  Seven faces swiveled to Kurn.  "Standish says take yer out fer a sail, so ye and ye -- " He pointed to Rurik and Gavin -- "git the sail up full.  Ye two -- " This time to Yurli and Levi -- "git on the rode and git the anchor up.  Ye on the wheel, steady there.  An' ye -- "  This to Marcus and Gloim -- "If it ain't tied down, tie it down."  The cadets set to their tasks, Standish helping as questions were raised, the Heartsong around him ringing with anticipatory tension.  

Gloim finished tying together some loose rope and leaned against the rail with a little smile.  James stood by him a moment while Kurn continued barking out orders.  "Not as excited about this, Mister Gloim?"

The stocky dwarf considered, his shocking blue eyes watching the activity and his cousin especially.  "Nay, oi'm jus as 'appy standin' on land, soir.  Tain't me place ta sail.  Yer got Rurik 'ere -- good luck getting' 'im offa ship, 'ow.  Aingus be hooked an' reeled too...me, I'm jus doin' fer tha lady."

James smiled at that.  "The lady?  You mean Captain Trueaxe?"  

Gloim's face didn' t move but even his lush, sand-colored beard couldn't fully cover the flush around his cheeks.  "Aye."

"Mmm."  He leaned closer to the dwarf.  "There are worse things than to ask, you know, although I suspect the lady may feel herself a bit old for you."  Gloim flushed even more and James pushed himself off the rail to correct the halyard tension.  The cog bumped the rowboat twice as the sailcloth were unfurled and with a bow-to-stern rocking the little ship caught sail across the warming ocean water.

James had to do most of the trimming but his class came together well after seven weeks of practice.  Kurn took them up the coast, close enough to the shore to avoid looking like a target to any privateers lurking.  Rurik was not merely motivated; he acted as a man in love, taking control of the sails under James's watchful eye for the return to the rowboat.  Kurn took some time with Aingus and let him steer, talking low to the other dwarf which worried James more than a little.  Aingus's sour expression faded to his focus on holding the course true and twice a smile even cracked through; the rest seemed to enjoy themselves to varying degrees.  Closer to the rowboat, Kurn took the wheel again and James the sails and together they pulled the ship close enough to the little craft to drop in.

"Yer sure I never met ye 'fore."  Kurn gave Standish another long look and James shook his head.  Kurn snorted and turned to the cadets.  "Not bad fer a bunch of first-timers.  Off with ye, then -- and remember, dwarves be the best sailors on the ocean, and if anyone tells ye otherwise, ye wait till they turn around then ye slip them cold steel and feed their liver to a shark!  HAR!"

"Let's drop in and head for shore.  It's already almost noon."  James held the line as his cadets slid down and turned to salute Kurn.  "A good sail, Mister Blackwater.  Thank you for coming."

"Aye.  Five-hunnerd Trues, Standish.  Don't ferget."  James nodded again and let himself into the rowboat.  They pushed off, Kurn not wasting time to wave but pounding on the deck for Jack, as the small class of Beacon Tower Cadets rowed for the beach.

[Script Wrecked]

The kin of southern Dregar are fêted by visits from at least two [THREAD=275672]priests[/THREAD] of Vorax of late. They are seen in and about Lor, visiting communities, households and even individuals, dispensing all manner of Voraxian wisdom and aid to the followers of the Battle Father.

[RollinsCat]

Eight Weeks Later: The Last Lesson.

They came around in a tight circle, oars never hitting the crumbling monolithic bolder that was their obstacle.  Marcus's fingers only brushed against the drum but they knew what to listen for.  Aside from the oars hitting the water the boat was quieter than it had ever been and James felt a flush of pride as they straightened and rowed for the next obstacle, holding water just before plowing into the shallow bar and then rolling the boat over without getting stuck.

"Take her out a ways, gentlemen.  We'll go for speed."  They nodded and turned toward the deep sea.  The young men rowed in concert, each aware of his partner's strength and adjusting accordingly.  James noted when they passed over the land's shelf and the water went from sea green to a deep forest green, fading to black inches under the surface.  "Far enough."  He nodded to Marcus.  Muscles tensed, bodies shifted, and there was a lightning flicker of anticipation.

Marcus's fingers jumped to a swift tapping on the drumskin.  "Row!"  

The boat didn't buck this time; they'd learned not to throw all their weight into the first stroke.  They pulled forward in a controlled surge and built on the momentum, rolling the oars.  Marcus kept near-perfect time, James counting despite himself.  He tried to shake off his inner metronome and focus on the class but his ponytail kept whipping around into his face, sharp slaps like an insect's sting, so he turned into the wind.

A subtle shift, the young men falling into an instinctive, shared rhythm.  The sound pulled him from his seat -- it was the first time he'd felt it that strong.  He doubted they knew what it was that put them in such synchronicity, but it didn't matter.  They were acting as one.  The boat was moving fast over the water and he felt that champagne bubbling inside his chest; he turned and stood in a crouch to allow the motion to lift him.  It wasn't enough of a sensation so he stood on the seat, a slender and unwieldy-tall figurehead, floating up and down with the rowing and the waves.  He leaned forward and folded his arms while his head fell back, hanging on to his balance by a wing and a prayer.  The feeling rolled over him, the joy inside rushing as fast as the wind outside, the feeling of his class moving as one, their delight in the sensual thrill of pure speed, and a building sense of mischiev-

"HOLD WATER!"  They dipped and turned oars, the boat tossing up at the bow and wood moaning in protest from the sudden stop.  Before he could open his eyes he was flying and for a moment he didn't want to see, he only wanted to feel himself weightless in the air.  It was too brief, the moment ending when the sea allowed him to displace it with a grudging splash.  He came up sputtering to the sound of seven young men laughing with increasing gusto and hands slapping hands.  Mirthful eyes watched him float.  He grinned, he couldn't stop it, and kicked over to the rowboat.

"A little slower for shore, if you please, and let's discuss that as a tactic."  He pulled himself in and sat to wring water from his hair.  "If you are boarded, or wish to remove someone from your vessel, maneuverability is one way to do it.  Of course, most enemies will not be so accommodating as to stand up while you are moving, but if they do, use it to your advantage."  His tone was dry but his eyes still sparkled.  "Take us to the beach; that was a good morning's practice.  Can you all return later this afternoon?  Marcus, Rurik, hold a moment after we beach, I'd like to speak with you."

"Oi gotta 'elp wit me fea's fadder's work, oi do."  Gloim's voice was resigned, and Rurik smirked.

"Fea?"  James had a sudden image of a slender elven woman and this young golden dwarf, and he almost giggled.

"He's fianced.  Goin' to get married!"  The smirk in Rurik's voice switched to full glee and Gloim's eyes narrowed.

" 'areful as ye go, cousin.  She got sister what loikes 'er feed mor'n Gavin's pigs do an 'er fadder want 'em both proper wed..."  Rurik shut his mouth swiftly and it was Gloim's turn to grin.

"Can you come tomorrow afternoon then?  It will give me time to make arrangements."

"Oi kin."  

"Tomorrow, then, all of you.  Just after sun's peak."

Beaching, stowing gear, jumbled conversation and the occasional snickered remembrance of their instructor's short flight over the sea; he listened with what was no longer merely a twinge of loss.  My class. Marcus and Rurik left last, walking together in conversation after accepting his proposal, and James smiled faintly and went to make some purchases and send a certain copper-haired dwarven captain a note.

The Next Day.

They straggled in, Rurik and Gloim first, Aingus, Gavin and Marcus, Yurli, and finally Levi whose loose gait and too-bright eyes did not escape James.  Muse, that's a look I wore for years.  Was I that obvious?

"Good morning."  They eyed the boat, scrubbed cleaner than they'd ever seen it and propped up in the sand, buckets of pigment and brushes sitting nearby.  "I want to say, gentlemen, that it has been a great pleasure to be your instructor in this endeavor.  You are my first class, and I am proud of you and what you've learned."  Don't choke up, you sentimental twit. "It is time to consider your basic training complete and to offer others the chance to learn.  However, there is a naval tradition that I would like to introduce you to.  I'm aware that this is only a rowboat -- but she's your rowboat, you who are the first of the Beacon Tower Cadets to learn this skill."  He used the full range of his voice, pausing, making eye contact.  He wanted them to feel the moment and every one of his twenty-five years as a performer came to bear.

"Before this, she was only a rowboat, but she will now be the training boat for each new class.  Yet she does not have a name.  You are the first class; you will name her."  He gestured to the brushes and paint, expensive paint that would cling to wood and resist salt.  He had guessed at the colors but given their Captain, he was sure he'd guessed right.  "Gentlemen.  What would you like all those who climb aboard from now on to call her?"

They circled, speaking in low tones.  Gavin insisted on something while Yurli shook his head, aghast; Rurik spoke up and the other six immediately nixed the suggestion.  James, standing near the boat, could hear each word.  He waited.  Another round of possible names was refused until Gloim finally spoke and the silence that followed his choice reverberated in the Heartsong with a feeling of rightness.

"Have we all agreed?"  Nods.  "Does anyone here have any skill with brushes?"  Head shakes, until Levi raised a finger.

"I do some paintin', sir."  Levi's voice was surprisingly soft and light for a man.  No wonder he doesn't speak much; he must get his share of hell for that.  

"Then step up, and we'll all work on the design."  They clustered while Levi took up the brushes in hands a little unsteady but skilled enough to hide it.  "Gloim, would you keep an eye out; I'm expecting the Captain soon."  No need to say which Captain, and the soon-to-be-married dwarf jogged off with a blush of eagerness.

It wasn't an hour before Gloim's wave from up the beach alerted them and the boat was covered hastily with a dropcloth.  She came with her usual efficient steps and her golden armor ablaze in the slanting sun.

"Captain."  He gave his most respectful bow, stolen from Aya's knowledge of Huangjin court etiquette.  She nodded to him and he did not miss the twinkle in her eye.  "May I present your cadets, trained and fully ready to maneuver on the seas should the need arise."  She stood at respectful attention which they all mirrored, nodding again, and before she could speak he continued.  "Mister Marcus and Mister Rurik have agreed to stay with me for the next class to assist with teaching.  They are willing to learn to teach themselves, so that we can increase the number of cadets who can learn this skill, and I'm honored to have them.  And finally, the Cadets have something they'd like to share.  Mister Rurik?"

Rurik stepped forward and flung off the dropcloth.  Their pride and excitement made the Heartsong sound like a kaleidoscope with Argali's curiosity as a counternote.  The cloth settled on the sand in a fluffy thump.  She stepped closer and the cadets moved aside, all eyes on her, as she saw what was painted on both sides of the prow.  The sun flashed on the deep gold letters, edged in red and white...

BTC TRUEAXE

[Script Wrecked]

One lazy afternoon, the still sea air is disturbed by the crunching of sand and stones underfoot as a dwarven lass in tall black boots makes her way along the foreshore of a less used dock, a certain ruddy cheeked, tongue tied cadet in tow behind. Waiting for them, several figures stand in front of a covered longboat resting on the sands. As they draw close, 'James Standish' steps forward to greet them.

"Captain."

Argali eyed the cadets; they seemed full of anticipation, and were looking quite guilty of something.

"May I present your cadets, trained and fully ready to maneuver on the seas should the need arise."

She looked deeply to each cadet, to see if they faltered at Standish's description. Each one seemed to beam with a certain degree of chuff and pride.

"Mister Marcus and Mister Rurik have agreed to stay with me for the next class to assist with teaching. They are willing to learn to teach themselves, so that we can increase the number of cadets who can learn this skill, and I'm honored to have them."

Argali nodded while giving Marcus and Rurik an appraising look.

"And finally, the Cadets have something they'd like to share. Mister Rurik?"

Argali's attention followed as the drop cloth fell away, revealing the freshly cleaned and scrapped hull. Then letters in gold and red and white...

Mmm... That is a nice name, she thought(1), and then flushed as she realised whose name it was.

"Oh!"

Standish nodded once back to her, "The cadets chose it."

She flushed again as she looked back over the cadets, and grinned broadly to all, despite feeling somewhat awkward.

"You honourr herr grreatly." Argali stepped closer and ran her hand across the sides of the boat as you might a horse.

"She hopes that she will serrve you faithfully, and always brring you home again."

She learnt over to the boat, and whispered something softly as though into an ear.

"Aznzhazoth pohark k'al poazzig."(2)



(1) in dwarven
(2) "Always bring them back."

[Script Wrecked]

In a certain hall in the dwarven quarter of Lor, perhaps looking a little less rundown after the attention of mostly enthusiastic and well meaning if not always skilled hands, the Beacon Tower Cadets, Lor Troop are assembled.

The cadets stand in lines, more or less, wearing their azure blue kerchiefs about their neck and shoulder. A drummer strikes up a beat, and the cadets who have completed the boat training parade in, all notable for their missing kerchiefs. They march to the front, bearing what appears to be a long timber wrapped in a tarpaulin.

A dwarven lass takes the fore.

"Cadets. It iz herr pleazurre to be prezenting the candidates who arre zuccessfully completing the boating inztruction. It iz no zmall feat that has been accomplished herre. The sea iz not the naturral situation forr many of us, and they have overrcome the obstacles and their own fearrs to become the skilled boats man. She hopes you are inzpired by their action, and are willing to zeek out the challenges which you might otherwise not.

"It iz the true adage that the mountain iz not climbed until you have climbed it.

"Cadets, step forrwarrd, please."

With that, the copper haired dwarven lass presents the boating cadets with their azure neck kerchiefs. As she does, she shows each of them the dwarven rune for 'boat' that has been embroidered in white thread in the rear corner, before reaching around and tying about their neck.

She then leads the round of applause for the presented cadets.

"Zis would not have be the poszible without the experrt guidance of theirr instructorr. Misterr Standish, please to be stepping forwarrd."

A man with a close clipped beard steps before his former pupils.

The tarpaulin bearer moves from the line to present Standish with the shrouded item. James gives the dwarf a familiar wink before accepting the gift and unwrapping it; a virgin oar, finely sanded and well oiled.

Inscribed at the top, "James Standish, who made us swim."

Below follow the year and the names of each of the successful cadets.

"Three cheerrs forr the Misterr Standish."

The cadets break their decorum to give their instructor several rousing and heartfelt cheers.

[RollinsCat]

His long fingers stroked the oar before he forced them still.  His close-lipped smile was strained by the joy burbling underneath, a credible threat to the military composure he'd cultivated.  He tucked the oar close to his side and took a step forward.

"Thank you, very much."  His thumb grazed his mustache, smoothing it across his upper lip.  He let his gaze slide to Argali and lowered his lids briefly.  I got you, you got me, my friend.  

"I am very proud of these men and they should be very proud of themselves."  He heard them square their shoulders for being called men - well, they were, or very nearly anyway.  "However, I find myself in need of another six cadets."  It was not conversationally put and his gaze roamed the lines of youthful faces in the hall.

Murmurs and discussion, eyes on the seven standing at the front with straight backs and proud expressions.  Heads shaking, a few shoved forward by well-meaning or not-so-well-meaning friends only to fall back.  James's face remained impassive although inside the elation eroded a bit.  A minute, nearly two...

"Well if yer boys are gonna stand 'round yappin' like a pack o' puppies , I guess it's up ter us."  One of the rare female dwarven cadets stepped up to James, pulling another young dwarven woman by the hand.  She tilted her head back so her blue-green eyes met his.  "If they kin do it, by Dorand we kin do it."  Her friend hesitated then gave a quick jerk of a nod.  "I'm Norani, Mister Standish, an' this is Dordis."  

"Very well, Miss Norani, Miss Dordis.  I'm pleased you ladies have stepped up."  He emphasized the "ladies" while looking up; the seven remained at attention but a few snickers were heard as they, Argali, and Standish gazed over the lines again.  Three young dwarves jostled forward, one of whom could not stop looking at Norani.

"We'll do it."  Blurted from the one whose eyes kept wandering to the aqua-eyed lass.  James heard Argali school a smile away from her face.  

"One more."  He had judged the acoustics right and his voice boomed off the back of the hall, causing more than a few cadets to jump when their attention was yanked from wherever it had wandered off to.  A burly dwarf who gave the impression of being as wide as he was tall rolled his neck - or James assumed it was his neck, it was in the general area of a neck if necks looked like small tree trunks - and walked to join the other five.

"Belthic, sir.  I volunteer."  His rumbling bass was devoid of the usual artifacts of dwarven speech, the common as clear as James's own - clearer, without even James's Huangjin speech quirks.

"Belthic.  Thank you."  James gestured for him stand with the others, and turned.  "Class will start in two week's time from today.  Meet Mister Rurik and Mister Marcus here before sun's up and they will take you to the dock."  He gave them a courteous, short bow, waved them back to the lines, and returned to Argali's side to watch the rest of the ceremony.  My class...

[Black Cat]

*Grohin sets out after his talk with Argali to visit the towers and guard camps around the Lor area. At each stops he talks to the guards and/or cadets present....
 ... at one of the camp*
 
 'annur lads. Ehts gud ta see young ones taking proide in da way ov war. Vorax will be pleased ta see ya all working so 'ard fer da cause ov Lor.
 Be ever vigilant loike da Fadder, be strong an' courageous. Fer da toime ta come will nay be easy. But 'now dat wherever ya be... an' whatever ya face, da Fadder will be der besoides ya... an' so will all yer comrades. Beloive in 'em, trust 'em an' yer shoild-wall will be unbreakable an' yer axe will stroike true. Nay fear, kin will prevail.
 
 *Grohin sits then quietly by the fire, answering questions put to him by the young lads, showing them a few moves and blessing them with the power of Vorax.*

[Script Wrecked]

"Forrm the line. Forrm the line. Quick, quick!"

The cadets scuttled into place about the hall as Argali strode about their ranks, clapping her hands after them to imbue a sense of urgency.

She cast an scrutinizing eye up and down the ranks, as was perhaps filled with an enhanced sense of pride as she made her way to the front. This feeling of pride was due in part to the presence of the figure waiting to the side of the hall.

"Good afterrnoon, cadets."

She waited for the chorus in reply, "Good afternoon, ma'am."

"Zis zeason, we will be learrning the skill vital to the defense of the Towerrs of the Beacons. Vital to the defense of any towerr, in fact, orr the castle wall. Orr perrhaps even to zave yourr family frrom the hungerr.

"The arrcherry!"

She drew a tarpaulin from the first of several large square targets, bales of tightly packed straw with large concentric circles pinned to the front.

"Forr zis, you will be having the inztrruction by the Misterr Caerrwyn Ahrail'lan." Her hand beckoned Caerwyn forward. "You will address him as the Misterr Ahrail'lan, orr the zirr.

"Remember, cadets, the archerry iz the dangerrous. You will do exactly as the Misterr Ahrail'lan iz instrructing you."

[mixafix]

The artist known as James Standish has recently returned to Lor from Vanavar where he has found a useful herd for Lor's fledgling cavalry force. The herd was led by a spirited but once trained horse, which made the work of herding easier. The horses have been stabled at Lor while the work of securing riders is undertaken. A selection of weapons and other magical items has been made available from the stockpile which is bound to encourage suitable recruits.
 
 Meanwhile The Rael ambassador made the following invitation. "When these animals have bene brought up to standard and their riders given some basic training you may wish to have your company of cavalry train with Rael's Corps of cavalry along the border region."

[RollinsCat]

James stood at parade rest on the weather-scarred dock, hands clasped behind his back, watching.  Squinting, really, but he could blame the sun; the day was bright with no haze.  Even with his eyesight he could see the Trigantine-class coming in and he resisted the impulse to wipe suddenly sweaty palms. Muse but that's a beautiful ship...would I want to captain something so large?  Maybe an Emphemeral?  No...an Explorer...  He'd seen an Explorer in Bilkan, sleek, smaller, but fast as Mist's breath on the water.  Painted deep red with Tilmarian paper lanterns along the sides, his heart had raced as if he'd met his dream girl.  Maybe I did.

He forced his attention back to the warm, salty air enveloping him.  A handful of gulls overhead were in a pitched battle for a large fish that became smaller with each snap of a beak.  He took a few steps left to avoid the piscine shrapnel, moving closer to a line of ships bumping gently into the walkway.  There was a Morningstar and two trawlers tied off and an Almoran retrofitted for cargo, or at least that's what her captain wanted them to think.  He was closest to that slip and he'd picked up snatches of conversation that lead him to believe their cargo was obtained at sea rather than on shore.  He made some quiet notes to share with Argali later.

It would be another hour at least before the Trigantine made it to the deepest end of the long stretch of dock and he had research to do.  A Rohden Naojin, the Always Remember, had made port early that morning.  He strolled toward the huge naval ship with a straight back and hands clasped behind him as if the entirety of the docks was his kingdom to survey, nodding to this person and that -- cordial to the powerful and weak alike.  James would be that way.  

The Always Remember was bigger up close that he expected and better armed.  Rohden was serious about naval defense and a line of trebuchets were just visible along the top deck, with ballistae and a few cannon ports for flavor.  He nodded to some crewmen who were neatly attired in blue with silver buttons, asking if the first mate was aboard.  They directed him to a short Corsainian discussing a supplies list with a harried officer.

It was a long conversation but he didn't really need to talk to the man so much as listen.  He fixed his pretense firmly in his mind then turned an ear to both the conversation in front of him and those around him.  He listened to the naval seamen, their speech -- this is definitely a Corsain vessel, more's the luck -- and the Heartsong as well for the emotional component to really sell the bluff.  He absorbed terminology, phrasing, the nomenclature of this specific ship.

"Yes?"  

James blinked then came to attention as the first mate turned to him and spoke.  The man seemed abrupt but not hostile, merely busy.  James gave a short, shallow bow and spoke in his best Corsainian accent, his most clipped military diction.  "James Standish, sir.  I am formerly of naval service and I was hoping to reacquaint myself with a ship of war.  I have been teaching here in Lor for some time and have gotten crusty.  I will volunteer my time if you will have me; you may contact Captain Trueaxe at the Beacon Tower for verification of my identity."  He hated leaving off the Rohden part of the story but he hadn't patched that hole just yet.  

The man eyed him; the height, the slender build, the ruler-straight posture, hair pulled into a tight ponytail and clothing spotless except for a few fish scales from on high.  James kept his chin up and waited.  "Where from, then?"

"Western Gate, sir.  Mer district."

The first mate looked him over once more with a flicker of recognition in his dark eyes.  "Come back in a few hours.  If your Captain gives us a good word I might show you around."

It would do, and gave him time to meet the other ship.  He gave a more formal bow and walked back slowly, listening as he went, enjoying the bustle around him.  He saw Norani and Dordis -- funny how I always think of them that way, Norani first -- haggling at a fish stall and had to hold back a grin at the bashing Norani was giving the poor halfling sod behind the planks.  She was turning out to be his best cadet, serious when called for, teasing when not; a strong rower, and not afraid of challenging the other cadets, Rurik and Marcus included.  The only possible trouble brewing was Rurik taking a liking to the lass, and cadet Bregan having eyes for her as well.  She played them both like a maestro and this rare little window into dwarven romance made him smile.

My class.  Rurik and Marcus had devised an even more devious capsize test than his, which they had planned for next week.  The first few weeks had been swimming lessons which had gone well enough except for poor Belthic who could not float if you tied him to a gnomish air lift.  The man was too dense, too muscled, and treading water wore him out fast.  But he was trying, they all were, and his two trainer cadets knew their efforts had cracked the ice.  Dordis, of all of them, had even expressed a desire to learn the archery that was now being offered and that made him smile as well, even as he knew he had to carefully avoid the archery instructor whose sharp eyes and knowledge of Andrew's various personalities would doubtless give James away.  Cross that bridge when you must, Tashe.

The Trigantine was being hauled in and two dozen men were shouting and pulling to get the huge hull lengthwise.  Tricky, and not usually done, but their cargo would not do well on a smaller ship.  He watched in his usual stance, hands behind his back.  As much as he hated the attitude that projected it was helpful to keep his nervous ticks in check; otherwise he'd play with his beard and mustache all day because he liked how it felt on his fingers.  He'd always wondered about men who grew facial hair and incessantly smoothed it.  Now he knew.
 
The boarding planks came down.  It was all out of his hands now and the best he could hope for was to be given recognition for his initiative.  This little project had been brewing ever since he and Argali had been discussing the treading water class she'd wanted to institute, and if he could teach that as well.  He'd agreed; it was in the planning stages with his cadets as test subjects.  They'd been deep in conversation when a magnificent mare was ridden by, drawing both of their eyes.

"Mmm... She iz the fine specimen, no?  Argali iz looking to be finding the cavalry grrade horrses.  If you arre finding them, be zurre to be letting herr know."

That was all he needed.  Weeks turned to months of listening anywhere horses were traded and sold for a deal, something he could present to the city and negotiate for them.  But it was his other project, listening for pirate activity, that had paid that dividend.  

Poor Silver the Lucky.  Not so lucky in his final end, but a well-known horse trainer in his time on shore.  His grave in Audira had said only "Here lies Silver, Pirate, and horse trainer of Vanavar.  May his horse roam free", and off to Vanavar he'd gone.  Luck?  Instinct?  Ilsare's guiding touch?  Gut feeling, that was certain.  A well-trained horse turned wild might attract a herd.  He'd taken a chance on sending Shadowleaf a letter as James, knowing he'd need a scout and tracker, and then had to call in Annwyl as well -- thank the Muse she knows who I am -- and Annwyl had recruited Argos, Rory and Dot.  Vanavar was rife with bandits still, fifty-plus years of recovery having not reached much farther than North Hampton, and all their swords and arrows had been needed.  

And, he'd been useless, unable in the mantle of James to sing a single note or spell.  Well, I did sing a few when they could not hear me -- so easy to blame potions... It was a long and wild search that had them crossing thieves and drakes and magic-wielding bandits until finally Rory had spotted a huge, shaggy herd of horses.  They'd scattered; all but one, the largest stallion.  He'd snorted and whinnyed and prepared to kick, his training so instinctive that even wild he'd fight.  Rory and Leaf's touches soothed him although he seemed to take to Rory best.  And no wonder, the way she looked in that skirt. Rawr.

They had coaxed the stallion back to North Hampton and the rest of the herd followed; most were captured.  When Rory and Leaf walked the big fellow through the city gates a few recognized the animal.  "Longjon Copper, he is!  Where'd you find him?  Mistress of Silver's let him go when the old pirate died, we'd figured him lost..."  

The trip had been valuable, not just for Lor.  He'd gotten away with being James in front of friends.  No one recognized him; not Leaf, not Rory, not Dot.  Argos had nearly put his composure over a cliff when he'd started talking about Huangjin being his favorite city, but it turned out to be idle conversation based on the man's faith and James's obvious island heritage and the Toranite seemed fooled.

It had also been costly.  True for the care and upkeep of the horses while he sailed to Lor to let them know, a few hundred True each to Argos, Leaf, Rory, and Dot -- Annwyl refused, she had her own price which he was glad to meet -- and transportation costs.  Not to mention how angry Tyra was going to be at how long he'd been gone.  That was going to be very costly indeed...he chuckled.  At least she can't kick me out of bed.

A shrill whinnying brought his eyes to the ship.  There were sounds of a scuffle and some shouting.  He started for the gangplanks before he realized what he was doing then a milk-smooth female contralto cut through the cacophony.

"Take the big boy first.  The mares will follow him, then the other stallions.  Him -- HIM, the big gray!  Yes, lead him."  A young man came over the plank leading a rope and behind him was Longjon, teeth barred but not fighting the lead rope.  The destrier drew some admiring murmurs and his pricked-up ears seemed to know it.  The mares followed, then the other stallions, with very little calamity but a single overzealous sailor trying to stroke one and ending up in the harbor with a hoof mark on his side.

He watched the horses being led off.  Time to see if Captain Trueaxe was willing to be his persona's alibi...and I really hope I beat the first mate's inquiry, otherwise I have some explaining to do.

[Script Wrecked]

In a certain not-as-rundown-as-it-used-to-be hall in the dwarven quarter of Lor, the inaugural meeting of the dwarven council ([post=1573212]1[/post], [post=1587692]2[/post], [post=1618532]3[/post]) of Southern Dregar(1) takes place. Many of the delegates have traveled from the outlying areas of Lor, some as far as Golden, to represent their communities. While they are in Lor, each one is assigned a Beacon Tower cadet to act as guide about town and to run errands.
 
The delegates themselves are a diverse bunch, some chosen for their accumulated years and wisdom, some for their plain speaking and common sense, others for their youth and vigor, and even some because no-one else was available.
 
Each delegate makes a brief introduction of who they are, where they're from and who they represent, and give a brief description on the main challenge their particular community faces. Variously the responses are sympathetic murmurs to the occasional squawk of outrage. On some occasions, another delegate is able to make an insightful suggestion to the situation, or offer practical aid or solution.
 
At the last session, the council is addressed by the no-nonsense ore trader and dwarven representative on the Lor Diet, Ogrefeller Orebasher, whom has been attending the gathering from the side lines. He addresses each delegate, vowing to take on board the more serious problems that would be best addressed by the weight of the Diet. He also asks each delegate what accomplishable task their community can undertake to make things better for themselves or the kin and countryman about them.
 
 "Ye wan' help; guv' help."
 
The end of the gathering is marked by a small feast, with much mirth and merry making. Coincidentally, more candid discussion seems to take place over the mugs of ale and tables of food.



(1) For explicitness, the delegates only come from Lor and the outlying areas. However, they would actually welcome any (true) kin from further north, were there any. Most of the dwarves remaining in the Rael Kingdom have either migrated south to live in and about Lor, or are "trapped" in Prantz (this is based partially on the dwarven population figures for [LORE]Rael Kingdom[/LORE] and [LORE]Lor[/LORE]). They do mean to encompass the whole of the Rael Kingdom and represent all the dwarves therein, its just that they are all (most) of the remaining dwarves.

Also, they would never acknowledge the dominionship of Rael over these lands in their title; "Southern Dregar" acts as a proxy in this regard.

[Cinnabar]

Caerwyn steps up to greet Argali, speaking quietly to her, "K'azrg our', Haartwarden."  He flashes her a private smile, before turning to survey the cadets and then addresses them in a voice loud enough to be heard by all.  

"As Miss Argali mentioned, I'm here to offer you all some guidance in the use of various bows. She's quite correct:  Archery is dangerous;  it's supposed to be.  The trick is to only have it be dangerous to something you intend to hit.  So, Safety Rule #1:  Never point a bow at anything you don't intend to shoot;  once an arrow takes flight, you can't call it back!"  Caerwyn looks to each of the eight or so cadets to make sure that registered well, receiving the requisite nods from each.  

"We'll start today with the standard bow."  He unshoulders his own hunting longbow, which fairly glows from decades of careful oiling.  "The first thing to know about any bow is how to string and unstring one."  He sets the lower bow tip on the floor, slides his right foot up against it, steps through the bow with his left leg, and, pressing down hard on the upper arm of the bow, levers it over his hip.  He lifts the string out of the upper nock, before slowly releasing the pressure on the bow.  Reversing  the process, Caerwyn demonstrates the bow's restringing.  

"Now this bow is fairly powerful and a little tall for some of you."  A wry smile crosses his face as he takes note of the number of dwarven cadets in the room.  "So, I've made a few of lighter draw weight for you to use here."  He pulls back a tarpaulin covering a table in the hall to reveal a small collection of oaken bows, both long and short.  "I didn't know how many to expect, which means that you'll have to share for today.  I'll try to make enough more before our next session, for each of you to have your own.  It's important that you each learn with your own bow, as they all have a slightly different feel."  

"Alright, let's see each of you try to string and unstring one then."  One by one, they step forward and he supervises each individual attempt, giving small advice and encouragement, as needed.  One of the dwarven cadets, a girl, strides forward full of confidence and shakes her head when Caerwyn offers her a short bow, as he has with the other dwarves.  "I can handle a large one, just fine.", she insists.  He shrugs and hands her a longbow, watching, surprised, as she actually manages to string it, though with great effort.  "Pretty good", he nods to her.  "Now, imagine yourself running through the forest after some quarry, with something that much taller than you in your hand.  Is your clearly well placed pride really worth tripping over it?"  She shakes her head in understanding and looks down.  "Go ahead and unstring it now."  She follows the example given perfectly but, as she releases the pressure after removing the string, the bow bounces out of her hand and clatters to the floor.  "There, let that be a lesson for all of you.", he addresses the cadets.  "Any bow you can't conveniently string and unstring is a bow that's too much.  Better to choose a bow that you can handily use."  

"It's alright", he speaks to the dwarven girl quietly, "I'm amazed that you were able to string that bow in the first place, Miss...?."  "Dordis", she replies, still somewhat abashed.  "Ah, yes.", he nods, "Your name precedes you. You're a sailor of some note I hear."  "Yes Sir!", she says enthusiastically, her confidence returning.  "Well, now you'll learn to be an archer too.", he smiles.  

Turning back to the cadets at large, Caerwyn speaks up.  "I know you all want to shoot, and we'll finish with that today."  He looks to one of the dwarven boys.  "Gunder, is it? Would you turn those bales around for us."  "Yessir", the lad replies smartly.  "Since we're just starting out, let's not pepper parchement today. Besides, in the field, few of your intended targets will have convenient circles painted on them", he chuckles.  "Later on we'll get to precision, which is where targets will be useful as a metric."  He paces off 25 steps back from the center bale, after Gunder has turned them round, and draws a chalk line on the floor.  Gripping his own hunting bow, Caerwyn takes his stance on the line and nocks a plain bronze tipped arrow.  "Do yourselves a favor and avoid using what's called the 'pinch grip'."  He turns to demonstrate, before resuming his standard three finger grip on the string.  "It's easier at first, but you'll want to unlearn it later."   He then moves slowly, talking through each of the steps of the draw, before he lets fly, skewering the bale.  "Alright, one at a time then.  Let's see what you each can do, with a flight of five."  As each shooter steps to the line, Caerwyn hands them a strung bow appropriate to their size.  For each shot, he hands them a single arrow, making note of their stance, grip, and draw, saying little other than to address issues of safety.  Most manage at least a few into the bale, with any errant arrows, skidding across the floor or smacking into the far wall, happily a stone one.

Caerwyn speaks gently to the last shooter, a tall, lanky, perhaps human, girl with waist-length red hair, as she steps up to the line. "You don't say much, Miss."  "Oh that's Ginny Reath, she's quiet.", booms Gunder.  Caerwyn turns to the cadets in general and says in a soft voice, "Some of the best archers are."  "Go ahead and take your shots, Miss Reath."  As all her arrows hit the bale, three of them close to the middle, he nods approvingly and offers her a small smile and a knowing wink.  

"Next week, we'll work on technique and increase our distance. See you all then."  Caerwyn collects the arrows, discarding the damaged ones and unstrings the bows before putting them away.

[Script Wrecked]

Meanwhile The Rael ambassador made the following invitation. "When these animals have been brought up to standard and their riders given some basic training you may wish to have your company of cavalry train with Rael's Corps of cavalry along the border region."

A certain dwarf is observed to bristle almost audibly upon hearing of the ambassador's offer.

[RollinsCat]

Eleven dwarves, four humans, and one halfling stood by the pond's edge.  The green water glinted in afternoon sun and bits of algae and flotsom drifted by, occasionally dipping as a fish had a snack; the area was quiet except for wind and the faint ocean smell carried with it.  All but three of the dwarves looked uneasy.

James gave them a long once-over.  He had not had a hand in picking these, they were whomever had volunteered.  He nodded to himself, then spoke.

"Cadets, into your swim clothing please."  He liked how his voice carried, the echo contained by the trees.  He'd have to remember this spot.  He turned to strip down to his cut-off pants and the sudden shock he heard caught him by surprise.

Rurik almost jumped over in his haste to pull James aside.  James looked back and saw some of his class gone, heard the rustling of clothing blocked by foliage, and the rest gaping at him.  "Mister Standish, er, we don't...that is, yer can't strip in front of the ladies, sir.  Yer need to get behind a tree or sommat."

"Apologies, Mister Rurik.  I suppose years on a ship degrades one's modesty somewhat."  The dwarf nodded and James made it behind a tree before letting loose the fully dimpled grin he'd been fighting.  

He came out and had to stop a moment and regain composure.  The humans and halfling were dressed much as he, old clothes cut to capture one more use before the seams gasped their last.  The dwarves, however, were in the most old-fashioned swimming suits he'd ever seen.  The three females were fully covered, to the ankles and elbows; the males wore shirts and long pants.  

He turned wordlessly and put his shirt back on.

"Into the water please.  It should be plenty warm enough."  The humans splashed in and two of the dwarves complied with only slight hesitation.  The rest stared.

"Sir, don' we get a lesson'r somethin' afore we go in?"  This from a younger male dwarf whose name he did not know.

"An introduction...?  Very well.  This is water.  You are going to walk into it until it reaches your chest.  Then we will begin learning to tread in it, and eventually to swim."   He saw Rurik's grin from the corner of his eye.

"Swim, sir?  Cap'n said naught bout swimmin'!"  The dwarf's distress carried loud and clear.

"No, she did not, cadet.  Would she feel a need to push you into going above and beyond?  Or would she wait and see who showed the initiative, the drive, the inner strength to take that next step?"  A level look that he shared with each dwarf.  There was an uncomfortable moment of silence.

"Yessir."  

"Very good, Mister..."  A quizzical look.

"Freidrich, sir."  

"Mister Freidrich.  In you go."  The dwarf turned, miserable but too proud to leave, and trudged into the pond.  The rest followed with a predicable yelp from the men when a certain height of water was reached; both James and Rurik failed to stifle their snickers.

"Now, we shall start with floating..."

[mixafix]

*posted around some dockside Inns*
 
 Har lad there was a young sailor from Lor
 Who bragged of free ale and some war
 The ale turned out to be pale
 So In war he did fail
 And that was the end of him Sorr

[RollinsCat]

Norani and Dordis were the first ones to recover, rolling the boat over and fussing over a scratch in her paint while they bobbed up and down.  A tough day to row -- the waves were high and choppy, the risks greater.  But they had all wanted to go out with an enthusiasm he could not refuse.  His quietest cadet, Bo (he still didn't know what that was short for) had spoken for them all. "Can't hope Mist'll be inna good mood when the other boot falls, sir." Nods and murmurs from the class.  He'd opened his hands in surrender and helped them push the Trueaxe into the water.

Belthic and his rowing partner Mikael heaved in, one helping the other, although it was still funny to see Mikael up in the air and clinging to the side of the boat as it rolled to allow Belthic's massive form.  Two by two the rest got in and oars were placed and readied.  He climbed in last, settling into the bow seat his rear had been warming for the last...by the Muse, it's been over two years already?

"Enough for today.  Take us to shore, Mister Grelun."  Marcus' protege began tapping the drum and calling out the commands as they rode the waves to the beach.

The boat secured, cadets began to scatter but James waved a hand for them to remain and stood by Rurik and Marcus.  "I'm going to be out at sea for a few weeks.  I am appointing Rurik and Marcus to lead the next two classes without me."  

The two training assistants stood just a little taller.  James continued.  "I will ask that we keep this to ourselves, for now; Captain Trueaxe will get a full report on how well you both did after I debrief the class upon my return."  Since I haven't told her about this yet.

The lie stung him a little.  But, James was a lie, and who he was about to become was a lie, so..."Dismissed.  Rurik and Marcus, good luck."  Their chests puffed just a bit more; he heard their pride as his address shifted from student to associate and allowed a quick smile before turning away.  His bare feet make sucking sounds in the wet sand.  He didn't bother putting his boots back on.

Down the beach, out of sight, behind a dune, and a new -- and dry -- costume was donned.  A horrible outfit but it bagged off him, concealing his shape and with a little stooping, his height.

The long walk to the city.  A trip to the bank.  His pack emptied into his chest and a battered guitar case pulled out, along with the light travel pack he'd pre-prepared.

Ducking between two buildings in an empty part of town, changing again under cover of invisibility.  Some quietly incanted illusion, not done well but better than before; just some light work to shift his features a bit.  The majority he did with makeup.  

He fastened the straps of the case across his back and followed the city wall around to the gates, then out and toward the Kingdom of Rael.

Time to sing, Willie.