RP:Off To See The Pygmies
Summary: Jerica persuades Seriis to take a boat and go looking for pygmies. They both end up regretting it before the adventure has even begun.
On the beach rests a few long-oared rowboats, clearly left to facilitate passage to the ships anchored further out from the shore, listing in the blustering Eastern wind. Of a very few ships moored here, one stands out– a sturdy and practical four-sailed vessel designed to withstand rough conditions. A rope ladder, tacked to the hull to stop it swinging too hard in the winds, leads up to the weather-worn deck, and those ascending might note faded white script on the ship’s side: ‘The Calico Queen’. The holds below contain the crew’s and passenger’s sleeping quarters, above the cargo-hold where are barrels of water and preserved meats, sacks of flour and rice and other consumables suitable for what could be a lengthy, exploratory voyage. Prowling among the dry goods is Milly, the latest in a long dynasty of sleek calico cats whose purpose is to protect the food from rats and mice. Whether the ship was named for the cats or the cats chosen to match the ship is a question only the crusty, peg-legged First Mate might know; but to judge by the laconic expression on his wind-worn features, you’d likely be better off not bothering him with such trivialities. The crew bustle about, evidently preparing for departure.
Jerica sat on a crate. Because anywhere there were boats or ships there seemed to always be crates or barrells of some sort. Anyway, she sat on one of those aformentioned crates, pretzle legged, and munched on an apple while she watched the men mingle about and others haggle for rides somewhere on the long boats. Not Jerica. Oh no. Her one ride across the water to Rynvale had decided it for her. She had gotten sicker than a dog on the short jaunt and there is no way anyone was going to see her on a boat again anytime soon. Crunching into the crisp meat of the apple, Jerica leans forward with her elbows find her knees and turned her attention to the water. It's not that Jerica didn't like water. She just much preferred being -in- it rather than -on- it if she had to be. Devouring the fruit to the core, Jerica tosses it towards the water. Some fishes will eat it, surely.
Seriis had come to see the boats. Mostly wanted to watch them set sail into the Rynvale straits with their rowdy crew and passengers, only to be attacked and sunk in a matter of minutes, dragged down to the deep by all manner of deadly beasts and underwater predators. Only...they weren't. So far, every boat he has seen push away from the beach has vanished over the horizon unscathed, and the drow cannot help but feel rather disappointed by the lack of carnage. He eyes the choppy waves with a wary but questioning stare, as though he feels that scrutinising those dark waters so intently might coax them into yielding their truths. Is the sea safer than he thought? He scrunches his nose, and finally shifts his gaze to the men milling about not far below his seat further up the dunes. Seriis is far more fond of threatening than bartering for passage into or over to anywhere, and so he is eyeing the would-be passengers trying to haggle their way onboard with some measure of disdain. The little scholar is still undecided as to whether he will brave the journey to Rynvale, but that doesn't mean he won't send Avarn and Reyik down to the captains to ask questions. He watches the two drow corner a man and begin trying to extract information on the island from him - does it smell bad? Are the boats safe? Is there decent accommodation? Are there many people? And most importantly, is there a library or some other house of knowledge?
Jerica's brown eyes stop their purusal as soon as they land on Seriis. Blinking a few times, Jerica cups her chin in the V her hands make, sticky with apple juices but she doesn't care. The two bigger drow are eyed a little less than the smaller of the trio because she didn't know them. Besides, they weren't bothering her just yet. On a moment of decision, she hops nimbly from the crate and onto the sand of the cove to wander over towards Seriis. Nervously she tucks a bit of hair behind an ear, "Hello. Did you find what you were looking for yet?"
Seriis wiggles in the sand a bit, if only because he wants to hear it hiss past him and slip further down the dune. That sibilant sound summons the vaguest hint of a smile to his lips and brightens his features just a little, though the expression vanishes when he catches sight of the approaching woman. Apparently his friends noticed her too for Jerica will suddenly find herself accosted by Avarn and Reyik, who swiftly block the beeline she was making for Seriis. The pair are large and muscled, of almost even height at around six feet - they tower over both Jerica and their charge, too. Avarn, the one sporting quite a few more visible weapons than his counterpart and the man with the more handsome face, is reaching to push the diminutive woman back when Seriis squeezes himself between the two with a strained grunt, having rushed over. He smacks that extended hand away, surprised there is no dagger present in it (yet). Casting a frown to Jerica, the scholar speaks to Avarn in common, "Shoo, shoo. Go..." He pauses. "...Harass." That's the word. It is clear Avarn is very fond of that word, for the warrior's eyes take on a pleased glint and he nods before making his way back to the men on the beach. After a moment spent watching Jerica in silence, Reyik turns to follow. Seriis huffs at their backs. "They are...rude." Annoyed he does not know the correct term to use there, the drow settles for that description instead. He turns to Jerica. "Yes and no. I find library, and a lot of books, but I have not found every book." And there's no way he'll have had the time to peruse them all...
Jerica stops when two giants loom above and she has to crane her neck to just meet the eyes of one then the other. Oh dear. They were rather scary. Of course, as soon as Avarn reaches out towards her, the assassin is just starting to flex her wrist to release the poison edged dagger up one sleeve. Seriis saved his life, though neither know it as she eases the pressure on the triggering mechanism meant to release the blade. Laughing nervously at what she hoped was a joke, Jerica lowers her eyes to Seriis. Actually, he's a little taller than she so she doesn't get much relief from the growing crick in her neck. "Books? That's what you're looking for?" The bridge of her nose crinkles at the thought of spending hours a day with stuffy books. "You can't learn everything from books, Seriis."
Seriis' suggestion to 'harass' appears to translate into 'push some men around until they agree to spar you, then maim them'. The scholar observes one man lose a hand to Avarn's hungering blade with bored interest, but Jerica has most of his attentions. She is a break in the monotony of killing and hours poring over books, and the only surface dweller he has met so far that has not really given him the cold shoulder. There is still that underlying sense of there being some unknown, something he should be watchful for, but Seriis shakes that thought off before it can catch hold of him again. He spends a couple of seconds frowning at her; an appraising look. "Books, information. Knowledge, in truth," he explains slowly. "House Al'Reim likes knowledge - I said before. We find as much of it as we can, and...this surface world is full of things we do not know." Those final words of hers prompt a curious blink, and Seriis presses, "How else do I learn, then?"
Jerica should have been horrified at the level of 'harassment' levied upon an unsuspecting sailor. She didn't notice, or appeared not to notice, as she was giving all her attention to the drow scholar. "Oh, plenty of ways," she waved away mention of books. "Experience teaches as well, better even, than books." Jerica glanced at one of the long boats, now left unattended due to the rukus of a fight. "Have you ever stolen anything, Seriis?" A glimmer of an idea was brewing.
Seriis can smell the blood. A good part of him wants to push the one-handed man into the sea to lure in some sort of monster, but he decides against it. It would not be wise to taunt a creature of the deep in such a manner - one man would surely not be enough to satiate its vast hunger, and he might end up a target himself. No, he'll leave the sailor's fate to Avarn, who is still toying with his prey, his grin visible from even this distance. "Even better?" That could be true. Seriis did not spend years reading about killing at the academy - he experienced it. "I cannot experience legends, though-- steal? No? I do not think so. I am no common thief. I take what I want," the drow says in a somewhat haughty tone. "Like the day before yesterday. The city smells so bad I did not want to stay there, so we take a room at the library instead. Avarn threw the librarian out the window. No need for stealing when you can take." He does not appear to realise those two aspects can often blur together.
Jerica was not going to point out that the two were much the same. Sending an under-the-lashes grin towards the drow, Jerica nods towards an unattended boat. She could row it...maybe. "Well, lets -take- that boat and go for a ride. If you want to learn something you might as well do it first hand. Right? There's an island not far from here. I hear they had pygmies at one time." Jerica glances once towards the drow body guard. True to her nature she didn't once blink at the growing desperation of the man who suddenly found himself prey. "Taking is a much nicer word for stealing you know," she felt obliged to point out anyway. "So, do you want to?"
Seriis follows the path of Jerica's nod until his eyes land upon the boat, forgotten about in the ruckus his bodyguards are causing amidst the circle of sailors. He suppresses a shiver and shifts to fold his arms across his chest in an almost shielding manner. "Into the sea?" Even as he utters the words he realises it was a stupid question because where else would they go for a boat ride? Seriis' mouth turns downwards in a scowl. "What about kraken? Sharks? Mermaids?" Loath to admit he fears the ocean almost as much as he reveres it, he cannot help but ask, though he quickly continues, "I am not afraid, just-- wait, pygmies? What is pygmies?" Oh, the prospect of learning about a new creature excites him in an almost childlike manner - he wants to know -more-, but he has a feeling Jerica will only elaborate once they're off the beach, in that boat. Quickly Seriis glances at the waves lapping at the shore, at the deep blue expanse further out, and shuffles his feet in the sand. "...Fine," he relents after a delay, turning as if to stalk down to the beach. He spins back round to frown at her. "But -only- if Avarn and Reyik come, too." They should all fit in the rowing boat. The added protection of the two men may come in handy.
Jerica scoffed as Seriis rattled off names of ocean inhabitants and only stared at him as he started to declare he wasn't at all afraid. She suspected terrified would be closer to the mark even if he hid it well. "Yes. Pygmies. They are a tribe of really small," and deadly, "peoples. I've never seen one myself." Smug with her triumph, Jerica begins to head towards the boat as though she had every right to it. "Of course, of course. The can row. They have the muscles for it."
Seriis has, for a long time, archived and read all forms of knowledge, but his favourite reading material are those tomes that describe the ocean. Endlessly he's wondered what it would truly look like through his eyes, rather than on paper - his open moment of total awe that Jerica witnessed the other day, when the drow first saw the sea with his own eyes, is a testament to just how many years he'd been longing to view that sight. "Pygmies. I want to see them!" Having made up his mind entirely now, Seriis starts off across the sand with his head held high, steeling his courage to face the ocean. As he passes by the shouting group of sailors, he calls huffily to his companions, "Avarn, stop playing with your food and come!" Grinning, the larger drow muscles his way out of the circle of men with Reyik following close behind, the scarred mage's hands moving in the telltale motions of a spell - it's more a threat to the humans than anything else, meant to create some distance between them.
Jerica is the first to step into the long boat. It rocked only a little. Not enough to set her stomach cramping. She sat on a bench a few behind center, where the oars were, and waited for Seriis. Really, the bigger drow were going to have to shove off and do the work with direction from herself. Actually, she had never been to this island only heard of it. Jerica was probably not the one to get directions from.
Seriis comes to a shuddering halt in front of the boat and just sort of stares at it for a couple of moments in horror. He might have been having second thoughts but it does not much matter now - he's going whether he wants to or not. A thick arm wraps round his middle from behind and the scholar emits a panicked shriek, as Reyik lifts and sets him unceremoniously behind Jerica in the rocking boat, the sides of which Seriis immediately clings to. The feeling is so utterly alien to him that he loses all semblance of that natural grace the drow are known for, jerking unsteadily from side to side as he attempts to balance himself out, without realising that just sitting still will make everything so much easier. Far less intimidated by the prospect of rowing out to sea, the boy's companions pool their strengths together to shove the boat into deeper water before leaping in themselves, settling in the centre where they each grab an oar and begin to paddle. Seriis, trying to hide the way he's trembling just a little, hisses to Jerica, "This better be a good idea."
Jerica had thought that a smaller boat might be better than a big one!?? She couldn't have been more wrong. It started when Seriis was rocking the boat in a vain attempt to steady himself and got worse as the Muscle Head One and Muscle Head Two pushed them out and got the boat rocking a second time by jumping in. Her skin took on a greenish tint and she barely registered the hiss from behind. "I hope it is, too," she groaned miserably before leaning over the side of the boat to feed the fishes. There goes lunch and breakfast. Right into the water. Was that a snicker she heard from somewhere?
Seriis looks a mite paler than usual, features ashen with dread and uncertainty, and it gets all the worse when the woman who suggested this entire adventure sprawls over one side of the boat and retches up the last food she ate. "Oh, please. You don't like boats? You get, ah, sea...sick?" he asks with a great degree of incredulousness in his voice. Avarn is snickering under his breath and Seriis almost moves to stretch out a leg and kick him. He doesn't though, because an incoming wave tips the boat slightly and his only thought is to clutch even tighter to the sides. "And you wanted to go sailing?" Avarn's laughing openly now as he drives the oar through the water, the pained cries of the sailor he left behind growing fainter. "I'd say you've no one to blame but yourself." The two bodyguards clearly speak common better than their noble friend, it would seem, Avarn's words flowing smoothly like water through the gaps in fingers.
Jerica groans and slithers back into her seat. She barely registered Avarn's amusement at her expense. The wave that hit caused Jerica to lurch again only this time quite off balanced and somehow she'll end up flailing backwards towards Seriis with a yelp.
Seriis quite literally screams when Jerica slams back into him without warning. With his incoherent yells that are probably curses, the seasick woman, the ever-stern Reyik, and Avarn's raucous laughter, the four in the boat make a very strange sight as they row out of the bay and into open water. Kicking and struggling, Seriis attempts to push Jerica up and off of him, complaining loudly, "Stop touching me!"
Jerica half rolled and was half pushed off Seriis to land on the bottom of the boat where she promptly culred into a miserable ball of sea-sickness. This only made matters worse for the woman since the boat seemed to be rocking even more here. Silently, she prayed for death to come soon as her stomach retched up nothing. Dry heaves are the absolute worst. Death was taking his sweet time arriving, however and soon the island should be coming into view. Until then, with Avarn's uproarious laughter and nothing from Reyik and however Seriis recovered from such unintentional 'touching', Jerica was going to just slip into her world of anxiety and misery.