Post by Tsin on Jul 19, 2011 12:57:30 GMT -5
Despite claims to the otherwise by seemingly anybody who had spent a couple of days out on the wide open waters in a boat- sailors, merchants, pirates, marines, etc- the sea was not a harsh mistress. She could be, at times, a little bit tempermental although everybody was prone to a bad day or two once in a while. The real culprit it seemed, who somehow seemed to escape blame more often than not, was the weather; he was the one stirring up the seas like an angry drunk at a wedding reception, ruining an otherwise perfect gathering of individuals out to celebrate a beautiful union of themselves and peace...
Or plundering.
Or trading.
Whatever floats your boat, proverbially speaking.
At least, this was the way that things seemed to Jun Lokuan, sitting peacably on a raised platform of wood hammered into the main mast of a lone wolf's ship. It was, in fact, the perfect height and shape for sitting and probably made to be a bench, although it appeared that nobody had enjoyed a rest upon it for quite a while judging by the amount of salt dried onto the thing. The ship's captain probably resigned himself to lying on the floor, as dogs do, or in a bed, as dogs are usually forbidden to by their owners.
Fenrir was a canine with no master but the one in his memory though, so not an issue.
The daring escape from Roguetown has passed by hours ago, but finally with a place to rest and contemplate the day's happenings, it felt more like days. From dodging the marines and a certain dangerous bountyhead in a crowded tavern to running from certain death a certain even-more-dangerous commander, there was no question that it had been a most active afternoon. Time slipped onwards at a clip even as Jun slowed down though, and the evening hours had come.
A safety lantern hung above the scribe, suspended from the tall wooden tower he rested his back against, an empty but quickly filling book open in his lap. Even if the sun had not completely vanished behind the endless blue horizon, it's waning light definitely wasn't enough to write by... And write Jun did, quite a lot of put down really. Mostly the two events earlier described, but even after taking off to freedom, there were some notes worth jotting down.
A majority of it related to the ship, which its captain happily showed the pair of wanderers around a few minutes after they both were on board, when it became pretty clear that no marine capable of ripping a warship in half with his bare hands was going to crash the party. And it was pretty obvious from that way that the hound bounded about his boat that it was his pride and joy, barking excitedly at the dog-safe and dog-friendly modifications, the rooms, the weapons, how he did this or how he did that, etc etc. In truth, It was all quite interesting to the writer, seeing how a member of another species, clearly with a level of intelligence besting that of most humans, adapted to a world that definitely was not made for him.
Jun couldn't help but wonder too, watching the captain nudge out the corners of a map onto the ground and pour over them intently, how he managed to do all of this... or maybe had it done for him? "Hey-" The loud growl of a stomach interrupted the scribe from speaking further though.
Fenrir turned to see what was up, and the rumble of a gut did not escape his acute hearing either. "Woof! Woof-woof!"
"Haven't eaten since that chicken in the tavern... Guess checking the galley couldn't hurt; Thanks Fenrir." And on that note, young man closed his book, set it down upon his seat as he stood, and vanished through a nearby doorway.
Or plundering.
Or trading.
Whatever floats your boat, proverbially speaking.
At least, this was the way that things seemed to Jun Lokuan, sitting peacably on a raised platform of wood hammered into the main mast of a lone wolf's ship. It was, in fact, the perfect height and shape for sitting and probably made to be a bench, although it appeared that nobody had enjoyed a rest upon it for quite a while judging by the amount of salt dried onto the thing. The ship's captain probably resigned himself to lying on the floor, as dogs do, or in a bed, as dogs are usually forbidden to by their owners.
Fenrir was a canine with no master but the one in his memory though, so not an issue.
The daring escape from Roguetown has passed by hours ago, but finally with a place to rest and contemplate the day's happenings, it felt more like days. From dodging the marines and a certain dangerous bountyhead in a crowded tavern to running from certain death a certain even-more-dangerous commander, there was no question that it had been a most active afternoon. Time slipped onwards at a clip even as Jun slowed down though, and the evening hours had come.
A safety lantern hung above the scribe, suspended from the tall wooden tower he rested his back against, an empty but quickly filling book open in his lap. Even if the sun had not completely vanished behind the endless blue horizon, it's waning light definitely wasn't enough to write by... And write Jun did, quite a lot of put down really. Mostly the two events earlier described, but even after taking off to freedom, there were some notes worth jotting down.
A majority of it related to the ship, which its captain happily showed the pair of wanderers around a few minutes after they both were on board, when it became pretty clear that no marine capable of ripping a warship in half with his bare hands was going to crash the party. And it was pretty obvious from that way that the hound bounded about his boat that it was his pride and joy, barking excitedly at the dog-safe and dog-friendly modifications, the rooms, the weapons, how he did this or how he did that, etc etc. In truth, It was all quite interesting to the writer, seeing how a member of another species, clearly with a level of intelligence besting that of most humans, adapted to a world that definitely was not made for him.
Jun couldn't help but wonder too, watching the captain nudge out the corners of a map onto the ground and pour over them intently, how he managed to do all of this... or maybe had it done for him? "Hey-" The loud growl of a stomach interrupted the scribe from speaking further though.
Fenrir turned to see what was up, and the rumble of a gut did not escape his acute hearing either. "Woof! Woof-woof!"
"Haven't eaten since that chicken in the tavern... Guess checking the galley couldn't hurt; Thanks Fenrir." And on that note, young man closed his book, set it down upon his seat as he stood, and vanished through a nearby doorway.