Arren shook his head. "No, I do not smoke. I have spent so much time in forests and deserts, that I am used to more...natural aromas," he said.

Leaning against the wall near Danil, Arren looked around. There wasn't anything that either of the two of them knew that the others didn't, but neither was this meant to be a general conversation, either. Thankfully, there was no one, at least--nobody close enough to overhear them.

Still, he pitched his voice lower.

"I think that you are trustworthy, Danil, and that you would even fulfill this mission without the prospect of pay," Arren said, "but what about the others? Do you know any of them? I confess--I have never seen nor heard of them, and I do not know how far to trust them. Once we are on Andayon, there is little to prevent them from vanishing. The island is large enough that it would be easy enough at first, and if they were tracked down, there is little we could do. I dislike having to fall back on another man's threat."

He sighed. For all he knew, even without anyone deserting, they might still be killed by whoever was out there, waiting.

Rubbing his temples, he continued. "It is perhaps a little early to be forming plans of action, but I think it would be best to try to get to know all of our companions as well as possible--if only to gauge what their actions will be. After all," he said, "we can't afford traitors, as the High Captain said. I'm only a thief hunter, and occasionally I hunt other things as well, but I will do what is necessary."

He barked a laugh. "Well, I have given all of my thoughts on the matter--I suppose I should let you have a turn at it, then."

Sometimes, doing what was necessary involved not telling the truth, even to those whose trust was necessary. Those thoughts that he hadn't mentioned would need a little more consideration.

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Okay, guys, I'm going to be gone tommorrow and the day after, so....Ellie and Melda, feel free to powerplay Arren if need be. Also, while perhaps a pirate attack or something would spice up the RPing while I'm gone....I'd hate to miss it.

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Garvan nodded as Fyreg talked. He wasn't sure how to respond to the man, but he knew he would have to say something. <i>To hesitate, to pause even for a split second can bring you death.</i> It was one of the first rules he taught his students, and it had saved his life several times. <i>Who knows if I'll survive this little trip, though? All the rules and thoughts in the world might not help me.</i>

"Money is always helpful." he said lightly to the other man. "I suppose that was a draw for me, too." He paused for a moment, running a hand through his short hair. "It will be nice to use a sword again- a real sword, not those wooden practice ones."

"Will we need to port in Ghorindin for supplies, then?" With a finger Raign traced the route charted on the parchment spread over the table. "I hope to have the resources by then," she added, glancing once up at the man opposite.

Valtair was a greying man in his mid-forties, built solidly and broad through the shoulders. His hands, when he reached for the nearest instrument atop the table, were large and calloused from two decades of captaining a ship. He had been the Sea General before the cataclysm of the Jewel Isles, in charge of nearly the whole navy. A few other seamen remained, but Valtair was the only one of his rank. "They'll hold," he replied, voice slightly rasping from an old wound across the throat, and settled back into the desk chair bolted to the cabin floor. "See that none of the - passengers - use ought but their own supplies, and Andayon'll see us well provisioned, m'lady."

The ship listed slightly to one side in a swell of the ocean, and Raign unconsciously shifted balance, adjusting smoothly to the change. She had never had sea legs as a princess, but after being forced to flee, sea sickness had laid her low for almost two weeks, and she'd never been bothered by it since. "I'll keep an eye on it, then, Captain. You have my thanks." She turned, absently brushing stray tendrils of hair out of her face, and paused with her fingers on the doorknob as he spoke. "If it's all the same to you, m'lady, I don't trust a one of 'em. Would be a shame if things went aught awry."

Raign recognized what he warned against, in a roundabout sort of way, and a smile flickered over her lips. "Aye. That it would."

With that less than explicit reassurance, she exited, and wove through the crew of warriors-turned-half-sailor to make her way belowdecks. A glance into the hold told her sleeping arrangements were taken care of, and Raign retreated to her cabin. She felt a vague stab of annoyance, on passing a group of three talking (one of them the self-important man she'd somewhat clashed with earlier), at the complete lack of helpfulness any of the 'passengers' seemed to be exhibiting, and stifled it more out of habit than cause. Luckily the cabin did have a door that shut.

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Endymion stood there a moment, leaning against the railing, eyes closed, chewing her favorite flavored taffy hard. After awhile the stomach ache was just a lull slightly tugging on her stomach. Her head was still pounding, but that didn't bother as much. Endymion could tell that she could hardly eat anything on this part of the journey. Nibble on some bread, sip some water. Anything more and she'd be worse off.
I should try not to be a burden, she thought, as she straightened. I should be usefull somewhere. Asking around with the crew, she found that she could help mend rope in a corner of the deck. She'd be out of the way, and still helping. Endymion sat in the corning under the steps to the wheel, and started working on mending the thick ropes after one of the crew showed her how...

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

Arren put his hand out as a means of getting Danil to be quiet for a minute. Raign was walking past, and she didn't look very happy. He thought quickly. She had offered her ship, though she had still demanded payment; she was of some position that was very hush-hush, if the attitude of her sailors was anything to go by; and most importantely, she seemed angry.

With a slight grimace to Danil, and wondering if this was the best thing to be doing, Arren headed after her.

"Mistress Raign!" he called out, catching her by the arm before she could enter her cabin and seal it to the outside. He drew his arm back quickly, though, before she could take it amiss. "You have offered the use of your ship for this mission, and seem to possess a position of high rank as well--you are practical and apparently accustomed to command. I am sorry I did not ask this earlier." Arren paused, then, realizing that perhaps his words could be taken the wrong way, he hurried on. "Would you come and take counsel with Master Tharkan and I, in order that we may have a suitable plan, approved by three people with very different mindsets?" he asked, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to see how Danil would take it--the Craandorian could hear them without a doubt, but he had also not seemed to get on the best with Raign.

He realized that that might present a difficulty from Raign's point of view, as well.

"Please, Mistress Raign--put aside whatever strife or ill-will that you bear towards our good Craandorian Captain, and work towards the accomplishment of that for which we have been hired. Your advice would undoubtedly be a great asset to us," Arren said, his voice sounding somewhat earnest, but also somewhat doubtful--after all, who could know what went on in the mind of a woman, save the woman herself? He had never professed to be able to, at any rate. Perhaps he had somehow gravely insulted her, in which case, if women he had known in the past were anything to go by, she would be almost unbearable to be near for the next few days at the least.

And so it was with earnestnous in his voice and trepidation in his mind that he asked for the counsel of a woman.

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Okay, that last bit was totally random, and I have no idea where it's going to go. It would seem to be up to you, Melda. And Ellie, since Danil must react. o_O

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Raign would have agreed with very few qualms to give her opinion - she certainly had one, and to have any effect on the proceedings would certainly be a good thing - and she certainly didn't mind being asked, but it rankled that this man would assume she and the commander behind him were somehow at odds. Aye, he'd been somewhat unhelpful earlier, and Raign had taken no great liking to him, but in all pragmatism there wasn't a particle of sense in letting that cloud her judgment. Had she really given such an impression as to make this Arren so very sensitive?

It mattered very little, in any case. She didn't care how they perceived her - indeed, the group in general was the least of her concerns. Raign turned, folding her arms, and met Arren's gaze. "You are welcome to my opinion," she conceded, inclining her head very slightly, "though I wonder that you would think me averse to assisting you merely because of a less than glowing first impression." She indicated Danil as the object of such, and paused momentarily. "Aye, then, you'll have my counsel."

A last thought did occur, and Raign debated inwardly whether to voice it. "I am not a mistress, nor a lady," she added as coolly as she could manage. This was where pride had to be stamped upon, and with vigor. Lucan's reaction would have been a sight; fortunate that he was in his cabin. "'Raign' will suffice." Even among her own, she did not quite condone the use of a title. Its remaining was almost solely due to 'Lord' Lucan. That had been the catalyst of another argument. If Raign had been the type, her expression would have twisted in resigned wryness at the thought.

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(I'm back! *enters awkwardly*...)

From her vantage point on the forecastle, Aidne had noticed the girl - the young one - and especially her reaction to seafaring. Now, as she bent to her task with the stiff, dry hemp, Aidne approached her. From the pocket of her coarse skirt, she produced a handkerchief, in which was knotted a small bundle of brown, withered herbs. "Here, lass," she offered, "chew on a few of these." She popped a few in her own mouth for emphasis. "I'm not too partial to the sea m'self. Still, you can get used to it if you have to." Her green eyes glanced piercingly into the girl's face, which was half-covered by hanging hair, for just a moment. "It's Laraina, no? Your first time in the straits, then? Just be glad we're not on the true ocean."

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Laraina jumped slightly when she heard the womans voice, and looked up. She had had all her attention on fixing the rope, that she didn't see her come up. Thankfully she put a few of the hurbs in her mouth that she was offered. It helped a little more.
"Thank you, and yes, it's Laraina. But usually I go by Endymion. Also, it's not my first time traveling by ship. I do it regularly. It's just my stomach hates me sometimes," she said, standing to stretch her legs which had fallen asleep on her...

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

((*runs in* Sorry for not posting sooner- I've been having a bit of trouble signing on the past day or so))

Garvan looked up as a woman joined the two men. <i>What's her name?</i> He was beginning to wish he had paid more attention when they had first met back on land. <i>Lee... Líadán.</i> That was it.

"How are you liking our ship ride?" He asked her, turning around to lean back against the rails. His own stomach didn't quite agree with sailing, but he found if he thought about other things, it helped. There certainly was plenty to think about, too.

Aidne peered up at the girl for a moment, eyes veiled. Trying to fit in with the menfolk, then? Recognition and camaraderie were slightly more difficult than a name change. Well, no matter at present, but it did reveal a little more about her.

Rising as well, she merely agreed, "Aye, stomachs are funny things. Just when you've got 'em under control they decide to leap through your throat."

The Craandorian calvaryman was nearby, staring intently at something over the rail. Following his gaze, she found the small boat, bobbing nonchalantly on the waves. "What'll that be, Captain?" she asked him, raising her voice against the wind. "Some fisherman or other?"

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Arren winced. Of course. He had apparently said exactly the wrong thing and gotten Raign to react in exactly the wrong way.

"I apologise, Mistress Raign," he said, "It would seem that I overestimated your reaction to the minor dispute between you and Captain Tharkan earlier."

The Craandorian chose that moment to depart, and Arren couldn't help but feel that it was a departure timed to avoid Raign. He sighed. "I might as well get some fresh air as well, then."

He climbed up the ladder to the upper deck. There was still no sign of land in the distance. He sighed. Andayon was only a few days of sailing from Thoronus if one managed to catch the Manteavian current, but he was still impatient to get there. There, on land, he was at home, not on a boat. Boats were unwieldy and daunting. And land never sunk under your feet.

He turned his head to scan the horizon and saw Danil fix his gaze on something out of his own line of sight. Then, Aidne went over, looking at the same thing, apparently. His curiousity aroused, Arren went, too.

As soon as he saw the boat floating alone, his pulse quickened. In all of his years of travelling from island to island, he had never seen a seemingly empty boat floating without any sign of its mother ship.

"There has been no sign of any ship," he muttered to himself before continuing, more loudly. "It looks as though someone has gotten lost from their ship, or the opposite--his ship might have been lost. If, that is, anyone is in that boat."

He hailed one of Lady Raign's crewmen and pointed the boat out. Hopefully, they would bring it in, and find out why it was floating by itself.

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"Hard a' starboard," grated Captain Valtair, squinting at the horizon. "We'll pick her up. You, fetch - ah, m'lady."

Raign had glanced briefly abovedeck, not intending to stay, but came up the stairs in any case, cocking an eyebrow at the Captain. "Unidentified vessel," he explained succinctly, indicating with a jerk of his head the bobbing rowboat. There was a pause in which he pondered uneasily quite how to give voice to his next message. "Ah...yer brother's in his cabin," he muttered to his lady, leaning down a little in order to accommodate her height and speak in as low a tone as possible. "M'lord Lucan isn't especially happy about proceedings."

Raing was strongly tempted to kick the nearest coil of rope. Idiotic Lucan. He would have to come seek her out, then - she was not at his beck and call, no matter how arrogantly he might think to claim authority due to seperior age. She stalked over to the rail, expression characteristically blank but seething inwardly, and watched the boat draw slowly nearer, fingers tapping the wood impatiently. Perhaps some of her irritation was due to the persistant attitude of the two men - Arren and...Danil? - at thinking her temperamental enough to care about some petty argument. It wasn't a large annoyance, but nagging enough to make her distant and somewhat cold.

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Garvan watched Líadán. She seemed to be acting a bit strange, despite her explanation of missing the sea. Perhaps it was his overly-sensitive instincts, honed by years of fighting, or maybe it was just the rocking of the ship getting to her. More than likely, it was the latter. <i>You're too suspicious, Breen.</i> he said to himself. <i>There's no reason for you not to believe her.</i>

He smiled and nodded. "Aye, I know how you feel there. I grew up in the hill country, and I get to missin' it, what with all the flatlands I've seen." A low burst of conversation reached his ears. His attention was drawn to the other side of the ship where a small group had gathered. "Wonder what they're lookin' at." He said, half to himself.

(Reindeer, I have writer's block, so if this messes things up too badly, let me know and I'll change it)

Intrigued, Aidne led the way to the main deck as two crewmen finally snagged the small craft with boathooks, then tied lines to it and lifted it aboard.

According to the usual run of sea-yarns, there should have been a castaway inside, or a small child, or a chest of jewels ... something. But there was nothing - nothing but an old ale cask, whose top had been resealed. Curiously, she bent over and knocked on the side, and was rewarded by the dull boom of hollowness. Whatever was inside, it wasn't ale....

And then it exploded.

Only partially shielded from the fireball by the side of the boat, she flew backwards, hitting the sturdy deck with an air of finality. Her last thought - and it was very brief - was that the detonation mechanism had been very clever indeed.

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Nobody in the boat. Arren frowned as he walked the little ways down the deck to where the crewmen were just lowering the boat to the ground.

Nobody in the boat. Why? That was bothersome. How would an ale cask end up in a drifting boat all by itself? Surely it wasn't by accident--a boat by itself was one thing, but a boat by itself with an ale cask inside? Someone had to have put it there. He stepped forward to examine the barrel at the same time that Aidne knocked on it.

Fire. Flame. Heat. Burning. Eyes.

He hit the ground with a thud that was lost in the roar of the explosion, covering his face with his hands--too late. Shards of the barrel had left several gashes down the right side of his face, though he had managed to block the shard that would have hit his eye--it was sticking out of the back of his hand. Still, the back of his head hurt almost as much, and that just from hitting it on the deck. His wounds weren't of that much concern.

More pressing was Aidne, lying crumpled on the deck. She had received most of the force of the explosion. Crewmembers were already gathering to see what had caused the loud noise and the vibrations that would have been felt all through the ship. Several of them were tending to her, though he was doubtful of their capabilities. He, though, was far more likely to do harm than good if he tried tending to her injuries, so he turned his attention back to spot on the deck where the boat had been. At least, to the hole where the spot on the deck used to be.

The explosion had blown through the boat and the deck, and most likely none of the boards in the area were very steady. Casting his eyes towards heaven in a quick praise that the hole was on the top deck and not in the hull, Arren slowly moved closer, thinking it through.

The barrel had sounded hollow. If it hadn't been, surely he would have heard such a difference. He did, after all, make a living by hunting down things and people that tried very hard to not make any noise. If the barrel was hollow, how could it have exploded?

He frowned, then his lips parted in a small gasp as he realized what the answer might be. Backing away from the hole rapidly, he spun in his heel and sought Danil.

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There was instant uproar among the ranks of Raign's men, and Raign herself whirled the moment flame roared up, rare and untempered shock on her face. She flew to the gaping, ragged-edged hole in the deck, mind already working furiously, and was snapping orders a moment later.

"Kiriat, get this woman below to the infirmary. Is anyone else hurt?" She'd seen Arren fall back, arm over his face, but Raign was far more worried about her own crew. "You are. And you. I don't care, go. This needs repairing - Hyren! Get a crew, fix this. Captain!"

She stalked to his side where the Captain was barking out his own instructions and demanded, "What was that?"

"By m'soul I don't know, m'lady - oi, you! Crow's nest! I need the ship who launched that vessel spotted! - if I were to offer my opinion I'd say - "

"Aye, I know," Raign cut him off grimly, and with one more sweeping glance encompassing those on deck, she took the stairs down the main deck in two leaps and darted below, catching Arren's sleeve with enough force to spin him around. The momentary burst of uncharacteristic emotion was gone in another instant, replaced by cold poise. "If you have any idea what that was," she delivered icily, "I would like to know now."

"Raign! What - " Lucan banged out of his cabin, one hand splattered with ink. "What in all levels of the Underworld was that?" he demanded.

"If I knew," snapped Raign, "it wouldn't have happened."

He very wisely assimilated the look on her face and vanished abovedeck. Raign turned back to Arren with a dangerously steely look in her eyes and folded her arms.

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