Delphinus

Journal Page

Journal @IJ

Surgeon Cry Wolf

Delphinus - The Dolphin - Sky blue - Seafarers on land is a sorry sight. In some ways, I think their taciturn temperament is merely having been too far from the waves. Their men and women fight side by side, and both seem as strong.

Weaver Memories (Link)

1:

[When you first saw her, you thought she was laughing. Running in from the fruit fields, the fair lady you'd fancied.. her face was twisted up. It wasn't until you saw that, that you dropped your pike and ran to her, realizing the sound wasn't mirth but somewhere between a hiccup, sob and a wretched start of a scream.

She flings herself on you, shoulders trembling. She'd hysterical and you can't make out a word.

"MILLI! Milli calm down, what's wrong!"

"S'just bones! The old man, all that's left are bones." You grip her shoulders, fear making you break into a cold sweat despite the heat.

"Milli... this is important... the soil, was it movin'? Were there holes?"

A fresh bout of tears wells up and she seems on the brink of hysteria again. She shudders, collapsing in your hold. Her voice is barely a whisper. "S'in m'ankle. One got in..."]

2:

[[You lay in the ships rigging, eyes closed, feeling the subtle rocking of the touner below you. The vessel listed, lifelessly in the open sea, no movement of the waves or wind pushed it. And them without a galley to give themselves a bit of a push... You can feel your shore leave slipping out of your hands with each gentle, useless sway of the ship.

You open your eyes as you feel yourself being watched, something old... something sad.. you don't look down, you already know what you'll see over the port b-

You hear someone scoff below, interrupting your thoughts. "Don't tell me y'sleepin' gain? The cap'n'll have you hangin' from a different rope if h'catches y'gain." You grin at Gretch's voice. The lad's voice was just beginning to crack, making about everything he said a riot. The more serious the better.

"Aint sleepin', m'thinkin. Sides, aint nothin' t'watch for. Wind's dead, an' ain't comin'."

"How y'know that? We could get a good squall anytime like. Then you'll be deader than the wind."

"Y'know, I'm suspectin' you are lookin' forward t'm'passin. Go look over the port side bow, Gretch. That what a certain-like sign is."

You don't look down, but you can hear the gangly scrabble on the deck below. You keep your eyes to the stars, straining for any touch of the wind to fill the booms and main sails.

"COR! It's... It's glowin'!" The cabin boy's voice barely can keep the right note a moment, voice leaping haphazard octaves with excitement. "It's like... It aint even a color! I mean it is, but it's... I aint seen anything what like this!"

"Won't be a wind when you see the waters glow." You explain patiently, a little reverently. "They aint allowed t'see each other."

".. You b'leive that? Them tales?" The kid kicks the rails idly. "Old man Igs says it's just plants in t'water what makes it shine."

"Look right inta t'Lady's eyes... You feel any wind, Gretch?"

The voice is soft, a little awed. "No, don't think I do."]]

New Uniform Description

Concept: Navy business casual

Top piece: Long-sleeved collared, buttoned shirts

Bottom piece: Slacks (m), ankle-length skirt with side slits (f)

Outer piece: Bridge coat with folded cuffs

Accessory: Ties

Footwear: Boots, socks

[There is the gentle sound of a shuttle moving through taut thread, and as the memory settles deep, your eyes open to the familiar garments of your kin on both yourself and those around you, dyed proud and bright.

Whoever thought wear like this wasn't practical never stepped more than a day of the dock, out to where the only things that changed were the wind and the swell and the dance of the sky. Long-sleeved, collared shirts in soft blue, woven from panna thread, and buttoned by carved, sturdy circles of keele shell can be rolled up or down, worn open or closed, and the accompanying spider-silk tie knotted to the wearer's style. The pants (and lone skirt) are crisp and straight-lined; the weave is thicker and more durable, clearly intended for active work. To top it all off is a sturdy bridge coat woven from badgercroc wool, wonderful stuff that turns but all the worst drenching and stays warm besides. Its buttons—and there are several of them, in two long lines down the front—are made from the same sturdy shell. Slick, practical boots finish the outfit off.

There's pride to be had in such clothing, even when adrift on the farthest seas. Even now, the faint scent of saltwater remains.]

Surgeon Game

Surgeon Game Delphinus Side Full Write-up (gdoc here)

Sea side

[Your boots echo crisply along the wooden boardwalk above the sand. A cool night breeze sweeps in across the bay, cooling the heat your uniform has gathered against your skin and giving a brief relief from the heat of your lantern from your knuckles. The air smells of salt, a hearty smoking weed, and fish, both fresh caught and cooking. Laughter, the pounding of glasses and feet, and rowdy song pours from a nearby building, a tavern almost nearly overfull with sea folk of all rank and origin. You have to step aside to allow a merchant - her ware cart laden with fresh food from the outlying farms - as she bustles by towards home.

It seems a good night, cheer in the air, and you are almost at the admiral’s home ahead.

In the distance, you see a rare ship out on the water, silhouetted by the red moon, full and low on the horizon. Its sails hang in tatters along the masts like a sorry, squidrat eaten dress, and it lists to its port as it drifts near the docks. You see a lantern waved, frantically from its rails, just a weaving pinpoint at this distance. There seems to be no one else on the waters...

You may continue along the great wooden boardwalk to the building or slip down to the docks.]

Decision point one

Docks

[A number of boats are tied at the docks. At this end of the docks there are more than a few small vessels bumping quietly against the sand bags tied over the edges of the docks as a buffer. There are more than a few named vessels, even though the grand ships were in deeper waters to the west... and certainly out of the question of such a small crew. There are no sailors around, but the night dockmaster stumbles close, reeking of alcohol.]

“Y’not be wantin’ a craft a this hour, be ya? Under a light like this?”

Building

[The admiral’s manor was something to gawk over. Most of it turned to catch the best of the ocean breeze, its shape was graceful and arching, but built to be open and airy. It was the home of someone who was only on land for as long as they had to be.

The wind picks up as you approach and threatens to take your hats if you don’t guard them. In the distance, you can hear the groan of seawood, and cling and moans of rigging from the big shipyard beyond.

Against the gate to the manor, a night guard leans against the side, taking an evening smoke. He wears a long sleeved naval uniform, but it is unbuttoned and wrinkled. He nods to you.]

“Evenin’ t’ya? Catchin’ a good breeze?”

“Y’know... I aint heard o no visitors past a certain hour an’ the admiral does have him a temper of a hurricane when he gets roused early.” The guard adjusts his collar. “But I do fancy me a nice honeyed brew. Might take the edge off the air...”

Decision point two

Ghost ship

[You row out to the listing ship, and as you get closer you can make out more details of it. She is new enough not to have the clinging shells even the small boats on the short had, and the masthead is of a single dolphin, arcing out of the water. You hear the call come up from the wreck bound sailors.]

“Cor! I thought none in t’town would brave it!” The first sailor calls down. “I wouldn’ta m’self but caint be calling a complaint now.” Roars of laughter come up behind him, relief giving the storm tossed sailors new life. “Let on o’ us aboard an’ take us t’dirt.. it’ll be enough t’convince the scaried fools we aint dead a-walking.”

Tavern

[The tavern is alight with any number of torches, the crowd is cheerful and colorful. The serving women sport all manners of flashy colors, while some of the uniformed women look on with mild disdain... the menfolk, uniform or no, have no such reservations, courting affection in any manner they can think of.

A few inquiries most needing to be shouted, directs you to push through the crowd to the back wall. Decorated with mounted fish of all sizes - some spined, some shelled, one even still casting a faint glow from its scales, and old, torn netting, broken spears... in the middle of the cluttered boasting rights, is a large cask, and a gentleman with a ragged hat in his lap. The cask has a tap, and the cap has more than a small fortune of bluish coin in it. You think you may have found what you seek.]

Boss

[It isn’t that you intended to look back at where the single sailor was resting. It was more the distant rise and splash of a sea beast that catches your eye... and just in time. The benign human form in the tattered uniform was no longer ... benign or human. The form bulges, becoming bulbous and stretching past the skin. Great slick, clawed arms reach out towards the nearest person, intent on their throat...]

Pillar Memories

--Link: "First Officer Howard Link of the Scarlet Ravenna." A sailor who left his farm(?) in order to escape a terapede-related tragedy.

--Distinctive accent.