Chapter 3: Sleep

The ship captain's daughter had been considerate on the last part of the trip and finally left his feelings alone. Along the starboard bow of the ship and near the back, he'd bent over the railing and let the sea foam wash over him. He'd vomited, too, losing a tasty lunch from the island's fares, and spent the rest of the trip wishing he could be at home with his comfortable down pillow and among the constant hearing-damage that was his brothers and sisters squabbling with his mother's sanity and nerves. He managed a catnap, and dreamed of his longings.

How peaceful it would be to his heart to be welcomed back home, the 'welcome home Marlow' rabbit-foot soup that had started to become a tradition, and how the longing of his heart would go unfulfilled, stifled, and then snuffed out. He'd become middle aged and complacent, and finally settle down with a nice, ugly woman to be done with the proddings of his parents and produce a dozen or more children to add to the hundredfold already of his siblings. When the last of his days approached, he'd feel old and satisfied and this time in his life would be a passing joke, a frivolous and whimsical fancy back in the day before he had learned the art of complacency. He'd tell the joke of his travels, everyone would give a good belly laugh, and return to their ways of never going anywhere or doing anything that mattered. Marlow awoke with a start and a vicious crook in his neck from the ship's bow railing.

The ship was due to make port at Redhold, but while he was sleeping, the weather had grown ominous. The captain had turned about and the ship and cargo were now safely tied to a barnacle-laden dock in Moonguard. Marlow headed off the boat and onto the dock, where the captain was instructing his crewmates, a foreign man with an accounting book standing nearby. "Bye Marloooooowwwww", the captain jeered, batting his eyelashes and making his wrists and hands into an anxious, lady-like expression. Marlow realized it was a joke about his daughter crushing his feelings, and his face burned red. "Bye", he managed stiffly, attempting to hide his face in his mop of hair.

He walked along the docks, looking for any spilled fish he could eat, dropped fishing equipment he could sell, or barnacles and clams with pearls in them (he found one once by chance). He tried not to look suspicious as he followed the rumbles of his empty stomach and did what he knew to hustle up food.

(TL:DR; Marlow looks for stuff to eat for free / sell for money along the docks of Moonguard)

Chapter 3: Sleep

Moongard

It was a sad day for Marlow, unless you thought finding a broken sword handle was a good find.  A broken fishing reel lay in his path that would pierce his shoes if he stepped on it. There wasn't anything edible on the docks as any fish he found were down to just the head on the skeleton and there weren't any vendors around plying their trade. The accountant shook his head before returning to the ship captain, ironing out the mooring payment for the duration of their stay.

Standing on the edge of the docks were a couple members of the local mage association. They were talking loudly enough for anyone passing by to hear them.

Mage 1: "Did you hear about that Sithaer fellow?"

Mage 2: "Who?"

Mage 1: "That weirdo that's been around since forever."

Mage 2: "Oh yeah, that guy. What about him?"

Mage 1: "I heard he's a coward."

Mage 2: "That is the word on the street. I heard he's never done anything worthwhile and yet acts like he's the best thing since the Emperor. In fact, I heard he's a big baby who can't even hold a conversation without that mask on."

Mage 1: "Ha! Too true, my friend."

They continued to talk in raised voices about how pathetic Eligor Sithaer was and paid no mind to anyone around them.

Rumbling tummies made for poor attention to surroundings, and soon enough Marlow heard a crunch underfoot, followed by a stabbing pain. He cursed and plopped himself down immediately, tenderly clutching the offended foot. He found his movements more labored than usual and upon inspection (and more curses) found the metal rod of a fishing rod had gone through the sole of his thin and overworn shoes and pierced his flesh. He supposed he deserved it, his mother had been nagging him about his shoes for a year. He removed the metal pole and swore a storm. Luckily, he had some lint in his pockets, and he used this and a strip of his left pant leg to bandage the wound. He had no medical training so the second he slipped his foot back into the shoe, the bandage slid off. He fiddled with it as the tones of conversation drifted to his ears with the wind.

At first, he thought the conversation was about him, and he was nearly ready to jump up and interject his bravery, but he realized he hadn't been here that long, and what they were saying didn't fit him. Was it another Sithaer? Did he have family here? Thoughts of a warm bowl of soup and fresh bread danced in his head.

Marlow re-bandaged himself and rose, gingerly padded close enough to be within speaking distance. "Sithaer, who?", he asked, cocking his head and clenching his teeth not to swear as another wave of pain drifted through him. Damn, he'd punctured himself pretty good. If he needed to run, he wouldn't be able to. But maybe now he'd be a more convincing beggar.

His eyes drifted around for piles of ash or dirt to put on his face and ragamuffin potato sacks he could use for clothes enough to beg for money later on.

Marlow's foot was still sore, and was going to be that way for a while. He shifted his weight as he listened keenly to the discussion. Being looked at as stereotypical trash was nothing new to Marlow, and his pasty white skin didn't help matters.

At last the subject's name was revealed, Eligor. He rolled the name around on the edges of his mind, searching for the reason he had heard of it. Only when Marlow again realized that he had the same last name did the literal relation dawn on him. There were a few in the family that were famous, and Eligor was a semi-famous short-story. The story went: Eligor, a middle-aged Alfier so mysterious no one knew how powerful he was, where he was, where he went, or why. That was the entire story, at least the one that he had been told. Of course, Eligor had never showed up for any of the family gatherings Marlow had been to, so he'd never met the man. But, being related to someone so mysterious they were semi-famous had always been Marlow's fancy, and when he was smaller, Marlow had made it his goal to become powerful and famous himself.

"He's my uncle! Have you seen him! One day I want to become mysterious and powerful like him. Do you know where he is? Hey, can you teach me magic? Can I work for you for a little while for room and board and food and tutoring? I promise you won't laugh at me when I grow up if you do.", he was oblivious of their disdain for his race and socio-economic status, that by human terms he was already fully grown, and that if they didn't care for one Sithaer then they were likely not to care for the next. Marlow's eyes were glossy as a child's expecting a present, full of hope and wonder, and wide as a full moon.

Chapter 3: Sleep

Moongard

The two mages were taken aback by the apparent enthusiasm of the young Sithaer. They were inching away as fast as they could to get away from the young half-Alfeiran. The last time they'd talked like this they had come to blows with some stupid fellow in silver armor, but this guy either had thicker skin or was too dense to realize that the person he called uncle was being mocked.

Mage 1: *Sweat rolls down his face* "Um, you know what? I have to be... somewhere else. Yeah, that's right! My sister needs me to help with the laundry!"

Mage 2: *Scratches head* "But you don't have a..."

Mage 1: *Smacks hand over Mage 2's mouth* "Ehehehe, Anyway, we have to go, seeya!"

And with that both the mages ran like a rampaging Amarok was after them.

Meanwhile at the docks, the captain of the ship that brought him to Moongard was yelling that the weather had cleared up while he had been off on his lonesome and they were shipping out. They had already untied the ropes holding them to the dock and were in the process of bringing up the boarding ramp.

*Moderator Challenge*

This is a special challenge that if you succeed will net you extra exp. 

In order to win, you must roll the challenge dice and make it onto the ship before it gets too far away, otherwise you'll be left behind. 

You get 2 attempts at this, but each failed attempt will see you in the water.

The two talkers were even more eager than he to escape the conversation that Marlow had inserted himself into. He was young and naive, but understood he had embarrassed them. Being a Sithaer - at least, the trashy kind - had that effect on a lot of people, and it seemed Sithaers were especially disdainful, here.

His thoughts were interrupted by the calling of the captain. He turned to see that many crates had been unboarded and the crew were untying the ropes. Marlow had thought he'd stay in Moonguard and dig up some grub, but thus far he'd been completely unsuccessful. But then again, he was here because of the itch of his loins and his need for adventure, and the captain's unexpected beckon exactly fit the description of fate.

His hope returned to get with the beautiful captain's daughter behind the potato sacks until he saw he pass by and she shot him an ugly look. Okay, scratch that off. But the captain still had work, board, and food. Even if his fingers were tired of the smell of wax and the harsh grain of wood.

Marlow hurried forwards, only remembering his foot ache after he got a few steps. The boat had leered precariously from the dock edge, so as Marlow shuffled, he made an attempt at jumping. Being young, he still believed he could do anything he could daydream.

The member 'Overly Shedding Chocobo' has done the following action : FFMSL Dice

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'Challenge' :

Result :

But believing wasn't enough and Marlow found himself falling face-first into the bitter cold sea. The salt bit angrily at his wound, soaking his clothes and working its chill into his bones. He had begun flailing involuntarily and that sufficed as doggie paddles, preventing him from drowning immediately. He found his bearings and paddled to the dock, dragging himself up and onto it. Like a glutton for punishment, and now sopping wet, he tried again and slower.

The member 'Overly Shedding Chocobo' has done the following action : FFMSL Dice

---

'Challenge' :

Result :

Again Marlow was greeted with the brutally cold water. He cursed and spat, and one of the crewmembers passing by the scene paused with raised eyebrows, silently impressed at the lad's forbidden vocabulary. The captain groaned aloud and relayed some orders to near the boat. Marlow again dragged himself on the dock, feeling like a fish out of water. He cursed his foot, which had a constant stinging feeling, now, and tried a third time to board the undocked boat.

The member 'Overly Shedding Chocobo' has done the following action : FFMSL Dice

---

'Challenge' :

Result :

Chapter 3: Sleep

Moongard

*Mod Challenge*

Success! Due to your first two failures, you got a penalty. 

You have earned 350 exp. You are now on the ship.

Back to the RP:

The leap of faith taken by Marlow seemed to pan out this time, although the water dripping off him earned him some disgruntled looks from the deckhands who would have to clean it up later. The captain rolled his eyes at the boy, not even bothering to give him a blanket to warm up with.

"All hands to stations! I don't want to see any of you layabouts lazing about. That storm could come back at any time and if you aren't working I'll throw you over as an offering!" 

While Marlow craved approval from others, he also craved to live. After getting on the boat, he slunk off while he thought no one was looking. Having been on the boat for two trips already, he knew where everything was. He quickly made his way to the store room, and found the hay-blanket pile he'd used as bedding before still present. He used the the bedding to dry himself off, and the closest-fitting change of spare clothes available. On a ship, crewmates got wet and keeping dry was paramount to keeping your crew. He re-dressed his foot using salve in the ship's medical kit, and helped himself to a couple of hardtacks (a kind of simple, long-lasting biscuit), and a small portion of salted ham and a tiny silver of cheese. It was no hearty soup, but it satisfied his stomach.

While he waited for his blood sugar to rise, he hustled to the toilet, performed his business, and returned to the deck with a bucket of water, scrub brush, towel, and wax. He began scrubbing and waxing where he had left off before, a particular barnacle-laden spot just on the outside of the bow railing. The primitive sea-creatures writhed at his scrubbing, and it grossed him out.

Chapter 3: Sleep

Moongard
Aboard The Little Lady

The ship was making good time, and there were several close calls with the weather and with the captain making good on his threat. They weren't far from their destination of Redhold, so it shouldn't take long if they work through the night. In the meanwhile, some of the sailors were getting restless, and they were doing well, so the captain gave them leave to mess around for a little while.

Sailor 1: "Hey, anyone up for a little brawl?"

Sailor 2: "You know it! But it wouldn't be fun if it was just us. Hey, why don't we tag-team that lovesick idiot that follows Little Lady everywhere? He looks like he could use some exercise."

Sailor 1: "Sounds good to me. Hey Marlow! Grab that butter knife of yours and get over here!"

*Impending fight*

Make one last post before the fight starts.

With the thoroughly used wax rag in one hand, and a blister half-hanging off the other hand, Marlow eased into a photogenic lean against the railing, letting the sea wind ruffle through his hair as he concentrated on his best "apathetic about everything" look. Just when he felt he'd gotten the eyebrow posture just right, his ears figuratively tingled with the sound of his name.

He focused in on the conversation and got the jist of some sort of mock-fight. "Winner gets to kiss Little Lady!", he proudly exclaimed his own terms. One of the sailors poked the other in the ribs, the surprised sailor looked at the first, and the first gave a loud and long smooch on the cheek. The resting and working crew alike broke into hearty laughter.

"The only thing the winner is gonna kiss is the Little Lady's fist!", one of the bigger men exclaimed, and the men continued to laugh. Pretty as the captain's daughter was, a sea-faring lass accustomed to traveling with a throng of burly, profane crew men was hardly the 'delicate flower' type. One of the best fist-fighters on the ship watched the affairs duly from afar - the captain's daughter herself-, unconcerned but not averse to the entertainment of the her latest bane of existence and the wimpiest man-girl she'd seen in a while get the deck wiped with his face.

Now, if Marlow were brighter, he'd realize that the butter knife he liked so much, the one they were talking about, was actually pilfered from this ship's kitchen. Most of the crewmen had recognized it immediately, but it was so petty - and frankly, stupid - that they had made it into a dirty running joke. Without thinking, Marlow fetched the metal object from his pocket and readied it in his hand.


TL;DR: Flavor text. Readies knife.
EDIT: OH. You're prodding me to update my stats before I get into a fight. That makes sense.

Marlow flailed and pumped his arms, displaying a colorful palette of bruises. In truth, he was nothing special to look at. A few of the crewmates waved their hands in the body gesture of disappointed dismissal, but the general air of not being impressed wore on a message to Marlow that he was not well liked. He frowned and dismissed himself back to the store-room, bandaging himself up further and checking on his foot, which was well on its way to healing. While he was back there, he pilfered a sailor's uniform, too, justifying it was for his trouble. Cleaned up, fed, and eaten, he headed back out into the foray of pungent men laboring hard at sea. He went back to his bucket, and noticed that on the horizon, land was approaching.

"Where's that?", he tapped on a passerby's arm. The man looked where Marlow pointed and grunted back a noncommittal answer. To a sea dog, ultimately, the destination is always another body of water.

Chapter 3: Sleep

Moongard
Aboard The Little Lady


A passing sailor's eye twitched as the kid asked where they were going. "Seriously? We told you where we were headed before we even hit Moongard! There's no reason for you to have forgotten it, but I guess you're too airheaded to remember such a simple thing. We're going to Redhold right now. The city was attacked recently and sent out messenger birds asking for aid. Obviously we're going to be compensated for our troubles, but that's what we're doing. You on the other hand will be disembarking and STAYING that way. We have no use for someone who nearly lost to our weakest deckhands."

It was then that he noticed the kid wearing one of their uniforms, but decided he didn't care as it had crap all over it. Some passing birds had shat on its original owner so he took it off earlier that day and put on a clean one. It wouldn't be missed.

"Land ho!" the lookout called from the Crow's Nest, letting them know that they were nearly at port.

The Captain yelled back, "I saw that 2 leagues back, what took you so long?"

"Sorry, Captain, the wind's been picking up like crazy up here, makes it hard to see anything without my eyes watering."

"Then get a spyglass, you nitwit!"