After just a few days the makeshift crew banded together to bring their vessel into port in Sharn. Each of them kept busy, using any skills worthwhile. Shaelyn manipulated the wind and skies to fill their sails and keep them on track. Pip flitted around in and out of ED, repairing broken siding along the keel using ED’s strength and height as needed. ED was happy to lend hand, though he was wary of ocean travel. The longer he spent on the water, the more his “hibernate” mode imaging had him playing the part of an anchor, dragging along the ocean floor. Sinking, sinking into black depths where he would stay forever awake. An immobile, conscious hunk of metal growing into the coral, fish darting in and out of his rusted through body.
“Hey, ED! Can I have that turnscrewymabob?” ED snapped back to attention and handed Pip the tool he requested. He had to get off of the boat and kill something soon.
Korash removed his goggles and rubbed his mirror-like eyes. Seven hours and 32 minutes into his eight hour shift, with nothing to see but more water under the grey-blue skies. The horizon was visible, barely, becoming slightly more milky green when sky turned to ocean. A deep breath yielded more of the same scents as the days past- last night’s yellow-bellied snapfish, salt water, the tar that Pip had insisted on sloshing all over the deck. In just a few minutes, a small bright globe would rise, though stay hidden behind a thick veil of endless clouds. Then he would rest and consider his plan of attack for when they reached land. Another deep breath, was that a hint of the city? The tangy, acrid smells of a marina with a city beyond? One more night, he thought to himself, and the hunt was on.
“Ha!” Zane moved his queen into place. “And that’s mate!” Round for round, Zane and Rhin alternated besting each other on a hand carved wooden chess set that May’m had found while searching the captain’s quarters. Something you might expect someone intelligent to spend their time on, the creation of each piece from odd bits of wood and the mastery of the game. Not something you might expect from a pirate. May’m watched, strumming and tuning a small mandolin. Also hand made and found in the captain’s quarters. They each lent a hand where possible, Rhin even proved to be a more than capable cook once it fell on him to prepare the day’s catch. Suddenly, the pieces shifted as their hull scratched against a more shallow sand bar, a rook dropped to the floor, rolling. They all stood, the game forgotten- Land!