« Last post by Murometz on July 28, 2016, 01:31:52 PM »
And so the ship sailed on...
The next two days proved uneventful, and the winds held up, guiding Fate's Plight toward the deep harbor of Menii of the Purple Towns.
Old Bhroo complained to anyone that would listen that his bats were stressed and agitated by something or someone on board. Little could he know that Altoth/Zylonion was the cause of this agitation.
"Bad Omen" he would mouth over and over again.
Alasdair meanwhile spent his time poring over maps and texts provided by the guild below deck.
The Melnibonean kept mostly to herself, sipping dreamwine by day, and doing gods-of-chaos-knew-what by night.
Ebrin, though still enamored with Mi'il, got along quite well with Gerhard and Joleri, and spent time with them when he wasn't helping his father.
Ivor for his part, learned the hard way that sea-travel wasn't for him. Green-skinned and miserable, he spent most of his time hacking his bile into the uncaring sea.
On the third day of the voyage, the winds stopped blowing, and the ship was becalmed. Captain Sharlto cursed aloud. Only Ivor was happy now.
Boredom set in amidst the crew, as all waited for the winds to pick up again. By early evening, they still had not. It seemed Gerhard's earlier words about the Melnibonean women proved prophetic for them all now..."adrift on waves of ennui"
A forty foot Oinish catamaran was spotted starboard. As it came into view, a lone man could be seen squatting on deck, gesticulating wildly. The catamaran was drifting aimlessly, and no crew aside from the lone figure could be seen. Usually, an Oinish catamaran sported at least a half-dozen Oinish "sailors".
"Doom! Doom! Doom! Doooom!!" the emaciated, pug-nosed Oinishman cried out.
"Bad Omen", said Old Bhroo and Dolorous Werrus in unison.
"Are we fishing him out, Cap'n?" came the voice of another sailor.