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12th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year
Beware the flower at the center of the world, for many a ship does it entice.
A keen craft sails around its petals unfurled, ne’er to draw near would be wise.
From ‘Captains Log’ of the Reachmast, Author Unknown in the Unreckoned Years
The Captain is leading Petsune over to a group of four sailors who are sitting down playing a game of some sort. Chapel speaks in such a way that only Petsune is really being spoken to, “The one furthest from us on the railing is Shushilah. He’s from Folders Fill, which is in the Filkish Oullman, if you can’t tell by his accent.”
“What’s a Filky doing all the way over here on your crew?”
“I met him when I was down that way, and he was so taken with the ship that I couldn’t get him off it.”
Shushilah is wearing the typical clothes of an Oullman citizen; a hooded waistcoat, thick leather armbands embossed with a design, and pants that are baggy at the bottoms and can be rolled up in a hurry.
“You know the one on the left barrel, that’s the Big Man. If you ever hear singing, it’s him: composes his own shanties, even. He loves music of any kind. One of the friendliest people you’ll ever meet. Just don’t try to convert him.”
“Ah. And how’d you meet him?”
Captain Chapel sort of looks up at nothing, reminiscing some far-flung memory. When he speaks, it’s from somewhere far away, “I was in Broadfell, though I don’t remember why… selling goods probably, and I heard him singing in a tavern - offered him adventure and new song material, and he’s been with me ever since.”
Now that Petsune can get a proper look at him, the Big Man is wearing some of the garb common to Broadfell, but not entirely. He wears a tight-fitting leather cap with two bones or teeth made to resemble horns, a typical Fellbin hat; a sleeveless waistcoat with a fur collar, also seen frequently in Broadfell; and pants that were mutilated into shorts, not typical Fellbin garb, but it fits the look, Petsune thinks.
Shushilah exclaims something rude about the game they’re playing, and then Chapel continues his introductions, “the one on the right side is Cheese.”
“Why is she called Cheese?”
Petsune looks at Chapel and thinks he sees a shadow pass over his face when he responds, “That is a story for another time. I met Cheese recently, but she has fit right in and proven a very valuable crew member.”
Petsune wonders about the name, but Chapel is already introducing the fourth player of the game, “and this gentlemen on the crate closest to us is Tar.”
As Chapel gestures obliquely, the man called Tar turns to look back over his shoulder and says, “Hmm, that’s General Tarlatan to you, young man, thank you. Mmm, General Tarlatan of the Misty Shoals.”
Petsune feels flustered and stammers out his reply, “Oh, um, yes, uh, sir? Yes, sir. Of course, uh, General.”
The General turns back to the game and Petsune turns to Chapel with a quizzical look. Chapel answers his unspoken questions, “Yes, he really is a general. Or he was. He was dishonorably discharged. We call him Tar, General Tar, Tarlatan, Gen Tar, old goat - whatever works really.”
“Why was-“
“He was a General in the Royal Navy, served under King Bornidin the Old.”
“Oh… oh, I think I see…”
“Tar saw a lot of good men die during the North War, men he was responsible for. But it wasn’t until after he came home that he really broke… People can be cruel.”
Unsure what to say, Petsune looks at his feet. Shushilah breaks the awkward silence, calling to Petsune, “Hello, Pet! Is a fun game, yeah? You want to play, I’m thinking?”
“Oh, um, no, thank you. Maybe next time.”
Chapel chimes in, “I am showing our new Pet around, but we’ll make a Runny player out of him, don’t you worry.”
Before they walk away, The Big Man slams his oversized fist into the table and sends dice flying. With that, Petsune is being led by the familiar hand-on-the-back gesture, over toward the foredeck door at the bow. A few feet before opening the short door, Petsune smells something wonderful. When the door is swung outward, a whole host of delicious smells follow. Petsunes mouth immediately begins to water as he enters the kitchen-like area under the foredeck. It’s cramped, steamy, and sweltering, but Petsune feels closer to the Saints than ever. He is walking slightly forward with his eyes closed while he speaks, “What is that wonderful smell…”
When Petsune opens his eyes, his nose is raised mere inches from the face of a tall and hard looking man. Chapel speaks from somewhere behind in the steam, “The man you are pointing your nose at is Bor. Bor, meet Pet - Pet, Bor.”
The man called Bor is looking at Petsune with a hard glare, and Petsune squeaks out, “Um, hello, Bor. Sir?”
Bor continues his glare, but then it loosens, and he speaks to Chapel, “I like this one. He appreciates my art.”
With that, Bor turns and goes back to chopping up something with dexterous speed. Petsune obsequiously backs out of the cramped space and whispers a question to Chapel, who is closing the doors, “Why do you call him Bor? Isn’t that just a fancy cook, like on Dintash Mass?”
“Oh yes, and don’t ever call him a cook. He’s a Bor - the Bor - and what he does is art, as he puts it. We are very lucky to have him aboard, or so he keeps telling me.”
Chapel walks around to the top of the foredeck, above where Bor is cooking, so Petsune follows him. There at the tip of the bow, facing outward and watching the horizon, is a figure. He is dressed in an unusual fashion; everything is tight fitting and there are belts running every which way, each of which bears a knife, or gunpowder, or shot. On the figure’s back, there is a large spear with a leather wrapped handle. The sharpened tip is wicked and unlike anything Petsune has ever seen. Chapel begins speaking, “This is Harlan, our very own brooding pirate.”
The Harlan figure doesn’t move to greet them other than a raised hand, despite facing away from them. Chapel begins leading Petsune down the other side of the foredeck. Seeing Harlan and hearing Chapel’s introduction of him brings back one of Petsune’s questions, “So… uh, why do you change sails? Isn’t that, um, illegal?”
Chapel responds with his usual nonchalance, “Oh, yes. Very.”
Before Petsune has time to pose more questions, he is being introduced to two more people. Both people are leaning way over the starboard railing and one of them is pointing at something. Chapel stands a little way back from them, so as not to disturb whatever they are doing, “This is Sprig and Pickett. Sprig is the little one: watch out for him, he’s as quick as wig moss and can rob you blind without you even suspecting. And the taller one is Pickett: he won’t speak to you, unless you can get him to talk about sea creatures. He knows just about everything there is to know about them.” Petsune looks at the two youngest crew members and sees that there is a very tight knit bond there. Chapel points toward the quarter deck, right at Mavis, and says, “and that is First Mate Mavis, as you well know.” Petsune looks at Chapel, who is smirking, and gives him a sardonic smile back.
Chapel flops down into a pile of ropes and what looks like old rags. He immediately has his eyes closed and his hands clasped behind his head, in a look of serene bliss. He is about to speak when a small bundle of fur leaps from somewhere unseen, right into Chapel's lap and tries to lick his face. Chapel, seeming to have taken a stray limb to the groin, attempts to groan out, “…mmm and this… is Bungle… our… billypug…mmphh…”
Petsune watches Chapel roll around slightly, curled in on himself while Bungle soaks his face. Petsune feels slightly bad for Chapel, but he also has the biggest smile on his face since he left Thune Mass, and a long time before then even. Seeing Bungle reminds Petsune of his other question, so he asks, “and what is the name of this strange ship?”
Chapel has recovered slightly and is rustling Bungle’s fur, “You mean you haven’t… mmm… you haven’t heard of it? Depths… I thought we’d worked up a better reputation than that. This is the Painful Lady.”
Petsune blinks a few times before finally saying, “No, doesn’t ring any bells.”
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