Gray Katherine - Preludes #5

 

Preludes #5 

Captain Sorenson stood outside Springwell’s usual spot when he was not indulging his pastime in using his teeth as a natural whittling tool, or filling out paperwork that kept his boss, Edmonton, up to date, which was outside the Purser’s Box where the armory was located. Besides Sorenson, her officers, and select detachment of marines, most crew went about armed with little more than a working knife unless a general emergency and a call to battlestations was issued, then, depending on the situation, weapons would be handed out, or if dire enough, the door thrown open and the gear tossed out because the crew was facing a boarding of organized scro warriors, drow raiders, or neogi slavers. Both Bucky and Jakerzet had to surrender their swords and pistols when their contract was accepted. Springwell promised, and Sorenson could vouch that promise, that her purser would have things organized that Bucky and Jake would be able to retrieve their equipment either in an emergency, or when they went on shore leave. Otherwise, most weapons were locked away.

Mona and Kincaid met Sorenson near Springwell’s box. When Sorenson flicked a firestick across the hard wooden surface that framed the box, she lit a cigarillo and offered the burning tip to either member to light their own. Mona shook her head, while Kincaid drew his own and nodded his thanks to Captain Sorenson, always appreciative that she could have a casual attitude with her crew. Sorenson had gone over her meeting with Booker.

“Normally I’d assume this would be a simple transport job, but something about a figure who is transporting Stoverleaf Blanc and wanting little to no questions asked, it’s got my hairs on end.”

“Not just from the cold either, huh?” Mona joked, chuckling as Sorenson rolled her eyes, “Hopefully we can get into space soon after we receive the cargo and go our separate ways at the Rock.”

Kincaid said nothing, smoking quietly before he heard the soft padding of footsteps and he turned to see Springwell’s short, stout figure side step around the larger Goliath’s pant covered leg. Sorenson had a pointed quip, even if her tone remained casual, “Took you that long to slip away?”

“Poke your boyfriend and remind him that we do not need to ask so many questions before washing out a guy.” It was Springwell that confirmed Jake, Bucky, and Zebart would join the crew. Reaching the door into the purser’s box, Springwell’s hand slid along the surface before removing a false top that exposed a lever that he could pull, causing the door to disengage and slide in. Springwell stepped in first, replacing the false top and revealing the line of racks and strong boxes that contained goods ranging from emergency funds, a few ‘gray market’ items in case the ship needed to make a quick deal that was outside the trade regulations of the major factions. Along one of the walls was a metal of various weapons, many of them tagged for the owner.

“One warhammer of Thunderclap assigned to Kincaid,” Springwell gestured to the spot, which the goliath obliged by hefting the weapon, nodding at the weight, “Not even a scratch.” Kincaid noted.

Springwell continued, “One cutlass of keenness and dagger set…” Springwell checked off his private pad before stepping aside for Mona, “You also want a crossbow?”

“Are we really expecting a fight?” Mona asked, looking at her captain. At the same time, Kincaid had removed his shirt, revealing a broad figure that could easily heft such a powerful weapon as a warhammer. He was fitting on a chainshirt at least to protect his torso

“I’m not sure what to expect, but I think sidearms will be fine,” Sorenson said before accepting her favored tulwar. When it came to arms, especially on ship, Sorenson generally went armed with a pistol and a short blade, such as a long knife, or a cutlass. On land, her weapon of choice was the long tulwar with a silver colored hilt and a diamond colored gem on the pommel for both decoration and for cracking skulls, the pommel’s gem was beveled with a fine point in case the Captain had to slam it into the face or head of a disagreeable individual.

Backing up Caroline’s tulwar as a single pistol that rested at the front of her waist, below her angular navel. A small ammo pouch rested against her hip with paper cartridges of powder and shot. Hanging from her chest, besides her emblem to one of the Goddesses of fortune was a triplet set of powder flasks that made it easy to dump a charge into the pan of her pistol. Caroline also had a knife touched into the cuff of her boot, but that was a universal trait for everyone on board. Even if there was a no-weapons policy, almost every spacesea sailor carried a knife.

“Better give me a hand crossbow,” Mona finally said as she saw Caroline strap on a pistol. Mona could not shake the feeling that Kincaid would need more than a quick blade, he would need someone with range supporting him as they made this pick up.

Springwell did not bother looking up, he stepped down from his box behind the counter and shuffled over the racks. When he appeared, a dark wood hand crossbow with fine tension springs that secured the bows into the frame, so that the weapon could be carried similar to a pistol. Working a small latch built into the bottom of the frame would cause the bows to spring out with a click. Reed would not have the same range as a proper crossbow, but the weapon was inconspicuous while walking through town. There would be plenty of sideways looks from people staring at the bluish green goliath that would be walking with her bearing a warhammer strapped to his back.

“We’re meeting Booker and his client at a tavern to size him up and formally take the job, from there I want you two to secure the shipment and get it moved to the Katherine,” Caroline said before turning to Springwell, “Finally, about Folsom and the ice machine, have Edmonton go with him so we can buy good parts. Maybe send one of the new people to escort them.”

“Like the gnome?” Springwell asked, “I’m sure Zebart would like to help fix our ice machine.”

Sorenson made a face at the prospect, she leaned forward and asked quietly, “He is a tinker gnome isn’t he?”

Springwell nodded and said, “The genuine article. He even jumbles up the words if you don’t get him to slow down. I already put word to Folsom to pair him with Normandy Stotch so that Norm can show him the ropes, and act as his translator.” Caroline nodded. The Grey Katherine already had one gnome on the ship from Lantan, where the technological devices seemed to work better and the tinker gnomes there seemed to have a calm, collected attitude compared to the Krynnish gnomes that Zebart had hailed from. Despite being calmer, there was some innate connection that allowed Illusionist and Lantanese gnomes to understand and communicate effectively with their cousins. Still, even paired…

“Don’t let this new gnome work on my ice machine. Not with everything riding on it,” Caroline said, “Send the beaverfolk since he’s a local to go with Eddie and Folsom and get people off my back.”

“Very well,” Springwell said, he checked off the gear the crew had signed up before saying brightly: “Happy hunting.”

Gray Katherine - Preludes #4

Gray Katherine - Preludes #4
 

It fell to Meade and Springwell to interview potential crew members and working passengers who would be taking the Gray Katherine on her route. The Falyn crystalsphere, which Thunderhead was a part of, was primarily dominated by beastfolk, which meant that a beaverkin like Springwell felt right at home. There were small enclaves of other types. There were halflings who were comfortable in the forests and rivers. Hill Dwarves being the closest to industrious folk, a human enclave that was attached to the city of Thunderhead Bay, but most of the folk who lived in the region shared the traits of beasts. Of the members that the pair interviewed, four had washed out. They lacked a certain energy or nerve that was required to serve in the rigor of Wildspace, or they were unwilling to share the burden of working a spelljamming ship and were prepared to sit in a cabin if they could, coming out only for supper or to tour the deck. A hammerhead class like the Grey Katherine was a working ship. Captain Sorenson saw to it that all passengers were treated as temporary workmen, either being paid for their work, or receiving a very low fare in exchange for working. Of three that were accepted were two beastkin and a gnome.

The first two beastkin included Jakerzet ‘Jake’ Spicer, who preferred to be called Spicer. As a beastfolk enclave, most of Thunderhead’s citizens were of the woodland variety: otterkin and beaverkin. There were ursine, also known as bearfolk, who hauled lumber and worked the docks. The Aarakocra who dwelt in Thunderhead were associated with white or brown feather eagles and hawks. Spicer stood out as a white furred catfolk wearing a weatherbeaten traveler’s hat and matching coat. A brace of pistols were prominently displayed on his belt along with his shortsword. Accompanying Jake was another beastkin that was signing up, a beaverfolk paladin named Bucky Highway.

“We don’t get a lot of paladins on our crew,” Meade noted, “Not that we engage in any acts that need a paladin’s scrutiny.”

“Completely on the up-and-up,” Springwell agreed.

Unlike the browns and tans of Spicer’s coat and hat, Bucky wore a scarlet colored cloak with a topaz clasp under his neck over a soft brown tabard. Either the paladin spent time mending his armor everyday, or he had recently stopped a mage and asked for a little prestidigitation to instantly clean his gear. It was radically different.

“Well, Kiri-Jolith is more interested in personal honor and greater justice than any minor criminality.”

“Well… that’s good,” George said, “But we are legitimate, I promise.”

“This in no way should make us appear suspicious,” Springwell said, hoping to convey good faith to a fellow beaverkin with the brighter shade of reddish-brown fur compared to the darker shade that covered Springwell’s body.

“I’m sure the accommodations will be fine,” Bucky raised his hand in assurance.

The third prospective passenger turned temporary crewmember was more of a rarity in Thunderhead than even the humans or halflings. It was a black haired gnome that had been left over from another passing ship. Springwell made a face when he looked over his batch of documents, notes he had received based on the testimony of a few trusted contacts in Thunderhead about what the Grey Katherine was taking on. Springwell spoke first: “Says here Zebart that you’ve made yourself a bit of a nuisance in town. At least one accident at a local tavern.”

“Iwastryingtomaketheirengineagas-” Zebart trailed off as Springwell hissed and flicked his fingers, trying to get the gnome to slow down. Both Meade and Springwell were aware they were dealing with not just any gnome, but a tinker gnome, off the boat and living in Thunderhead. The gnomes could jumble up their words talking so fast in order to keep up with the speed of their minds.

“I stayed and helped put out those fires,” Zebart said, “I’ve also logged in years in flight time on wildspace. I have sea legs.”

Springwell lifted one of his files and gave Meade the nod about what Zebart was saying as being true.

Meade leaned forward and said, “Nothing fancy, no tinkering unless our chief engineer gives his blessing. Understood?”

Zebart vigorously nodded his head, “Irealyapprecia-” he caught himself based on Meade’s puzzled frown, “I appreciate the pay and ride over to the Rock of Bral. I’ve been stuck here for a few years since my last ship stranded me here.” Zebart slid the chair out and saw himself to the door where one of the ship’s fighters had received the nod from Meade to open the door and let Zebart back into the hall. Another crewman was waiting to escort the gnome back to the gangplank before the gnome got any eyes to carry out.

“Maybe we could get him to look in on the ice machine,” Springwell said dryly.

“God’s wounds, am I hearing it every hour on the damn ice machine,” Meade growled, glaring at Springwell who was busy refreshing himself with a drink of water. “Do we have any more applicants out there?” Meade asked the attendant.

“None, sir,” The human fighter replied after looking out into the hall and quietly asking around.

Gray Katherine - Preludes #3

 

Gray Katherine - Preludes #3

 After Folsom had assigned crews and took an inventory along with Meade about the state of the ice cub conjurer, the pair accompanied Sorenson over to the Grey Katherine’s galley where Dino’drulas, who often went by ‘Dino’ for short, held court as a broad figured half-giant with four arms that could adeptly turn pans, stir liquids, and serve four platters at once. He remained behind the serving counter while Sorenson addressed the crew.

“Folsom is already putting together a maintenance team to handle the cleaning of the hold. I know that a scrubbing is never fun, and I promise everyone will have a chance for shore leave before we set out. In addition, Springwell and George will be interviewing some possible new crew members to work this latest run.” She turned to the beaverkin that was sharing a table with Mona Reed and Beckwith, sipping snowberry juice, his front teeth worrying the iron lip of his flagon.

“Is the paymaster ready to issue pay?”

Springwell pried himself from his drink, using a handkerchief to clean the corner of his mouth as he spoke: “Yes, after this meeting, please visit Platt and make your mark to receive pay. No mark on his broadsheet, no pay. Edmonton is busy overseeing the scrubwork and going over supplies, but Platt will keep him appraised about the pay.”

Sorenson nodded in agreement, “Reed, Kincaid, I have a special job and I’d like you to accompany me. We’ll enjoy our shore leave together while we work if that’s okay?” Sorenson had framed that as a question, but Reed could sense from the Captain’s gaze that she was being volunteered for a mission. It was something that required both Reed’s talents in agility along with Kincaid’s physical strength, given his background as a goliath with blue-gray skin.

“Sure thing, Captain. Just let me know when you want to leave.”

“I’m also planning to send Folsom into town and finally get this piece of junk ice maker fixed. Don’t know why we hell we bought it in the first place,” Captain Sorenson noted to the muttered agreement of the rest of the crew.

“It’s good for the shaved ice cones,” one of the halflings suggested.

“Just make sure to get more syrup flavors than just lemon,” Another one added in.

“Let’s get it working before we try to make deserts out of it. I’d like a few cold drinks without having to wait on George,” Sorenson said lightly, winking to the group before waving them off, “Alright, Thaddeus will have the shift assignments and who is on break. Until then, dismissed.”

Gray Katherine - Preludes #2

 

Preludes #2

Captain Caroline Sorenson was aware that her knuckles were pressed under her chin while her right elbow rested on the plane of her left hand, as if she was a monument to deep thought. She was at rest, partly listening to Booker talking about the happenings at Thunder Bay. When the last time the Elven Imperial Navy had passed through. How the two Dohwar brothers, the Letterkyne’s, were doing with their contracts, and how there were a lot of interested captains that were either on their ships or lounging at the Perilous Orchard Tavern with not enough work to go around. Booker was listing off what contracts he did have available, none of them appealed to the brown haired captain. Caroline blinked after she heard Booker read off the first round of contracts, she realized the knuckles under her chin were aching when she decided to move her hand away and flex her digits to work the tension out of them. She put a booted foot on her desk before she spoke, cutting through any excuses: “What I need is an ore commission, Books. I’ve been moving ore this whole time, leaving my cargo hold compromised and needing to be cleaned if I’m hired to move something else. What do you have for ore delivery?’

Booker, or Books as Caroline had called him, was a tan human with a soft chin and a lot of rich cloth covering his body. He blinked behind a pair of crystal cheaters that were bound in black iron frames as he looked up from his reports, “Ironton’s exports have slowed down. Trouble on the roads between here and there. Either some guards from Thunderhead, or some of the folk from Ironton are going to have to put together an escort to move ores to the port. Probably some scro bandits are attacking the caravans and shipping the goods off-world, or to some haphazardly built smelting facility on the planet. The only thing I have available right this moment is a shipment of Stoverleaf Blanc that is expected to reach Rock of Bral if you don’t mind dealing with those scoundrels.”

“I’d have to clean out my cargo hold for consumables,” Caroline noted sourly. The Grey Katherine had a support crew on stand-by, but scrubbing the cargo hold meant she would have to offer hazard pay and have extra supplies in order to semi-properly clean and keep a sensitive cargo like alcohol, especially a wine with a reputation for sensitive as Stoverleaf, also known as S.B., or ‘Blanc’ from becoming tainted.

“It is in sealed barrels,” Booker noted, “Made from the finest timbers around and bound in Ironton iron bands. Surely you would not have to perform a full cleanse over sealed barrels.”

“It depends on the fussiness of the client,” Caroline said, “Sealed barrels would ease the workload on my men, the hold would still need a perfunctory cleaning, but it wouldn’t need a full scrubbing.
The pair paused when the door opened and a man sporting a pencil thin mustache, a gray workman’s tunic, and a pair of dungarees walked in, rolling liquid in a glass chilled by the localized frost magic in his hand. Booker nodded at George Meade while Sorenson kept her eyes on Booker. She inched her head up as George bent low, giving her a peck on the jaw while Caroline kissed the air, blowing it to her second mate and lover. There was a small circle of crewmembers who had been given the nod to come in without knocking, for others, they would have to get by Thaddeus, who was often on the bridge. George leaned against the back table as he left the cargo negotiations to his captain and lover.

“Will you at least come ashore and meet with the client? He’s really the only one left in Thunderhead who is willing to do business.”

“To do business with you at least, I wonder if the Letterkyne’s need anything moved,” Caroline wondered aloud, turning and winking at George as she teased the merchantman.

“In addition to your freight fees, how about I give you… ten percent of my commission as a bonus. I need to show some results in moving merchants before the next review comes up,” Booker said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “The office is up for grabs.”

Caroline decided to be generous and accept Booker’s offer, nibbling only five percent of the middleman’s commission in order to keep him happy and off the streets. Booker had been fair in throwing transportation jobs her way. The deal was struck that she would meet a man named Quinton Scanlon who was the owner of the cargo.

“I have to meet a few others who are interested in transportation and are willing to work as temporary crew,” Caroline said as she walked Booker towards the Katherine’s gang plank, “We’ll do lunch while I ask why this man is foolish enough to try and move Blanc to the Rock of Bral.”

“Lunch it is- we each pay our own checks,” Booker snapped his finger and pointed at her. The money he might have used to pay for any food had been swallowed up by Sorenson nabbing that five percent.
Standing at the gunwail of her ship, her arms hanging over the side and looking at Booker’s retreating figure, Caroline flicked her gaze to Meade, who was sipping from his chilled glass. The film of condensation reminded Caroline what Meade had been working on while she was meeting with Booker.

“Did you fix that ice cube conjurer yet?”

“Probably going to need a part or two, refill the reservoir with liquid ice if they have any in town,” Meade said with a sheepish look.

“How are you keeping your drink cold then,” Sorenson asked sharply, leaning up from the gunwail.

“My own magic,” Meade said, lifting the glass towards Sorenson, which she grabbed and took a strong quaff that drained the rest of the juice that Meade had been sipping from.

“You better be ready to chill some of my drinks if you cannot solve this problem while we’re in dock, Hon, that’s all I’m going to say,” Caroline said before leaning in and giving Meade a quick kiss on the cheek before heading to meet her Engineer, Fredinger ‘Freddie’ Folsom. A human, partly trained by dwarves, that was on Sorenson’s staff who kept the ship running and arranged for maintenance crews to handle repairs and alterations. Sealed or not, she would need a partial cleaning of the Katherine’s cargo hold before taking on any consumables.

Gray Katherine - Preludes #1

 

Author's Note: This kicks off Gray Katherine, which was in turn inspired by the 'Tales of the Eternal Wanderer' I read over on Spelljammer.org. What follows is the crew of the trading Hammership, the eponymous 'Gray Katherine' sometimes known as the 'Gray Lady.'

Preludes #1 

Mona’s flat head burst from the water with a glistening spray bouncing off her oily fur, shimmering in the morning sun as glistening pearls before they fell back into the water behind her creating small ripples with every point they struck before merging with the deep blue waters that surrounded her. For most, including the native citizens of Thunderhead, the water was still a little too cool to enjoy in the mornings. The stevedores liked to wait until they built a good sweat from the first and second shift before they dove in, but not Mona. She was native to Timber, just like the stevedores, but unlike most of those men who were humans from the interior, Mona was one of the Otterfolk that shared the planet. The feeling of cold was distant and she felt refreshed paddling in a lazy circle just outside of the shadow of her second home. She tread water as she looked up towards stained glass, whose color reminded her of the clear lake she had dove in that made up the hammership’s starboard window. Mona was a crewman aboard the Grey Katherine, and the ship had once again anchored at Thunderhead in order to fulfill its contract of hauling dark iron pellets for the local building magnate. Mona was not a part of the hauling team, so she had the free time for a swim. She made a few lazy circles, all the while looking out towards the Grey Katherine.

Like all Hammerships, the Grey Katherine’s wooden body was crafted out of inspiration for a hammerhead deepmaw or stripped hammer, one of the sharks that swam in the terrestrial waters across several worlds. The body was wood, with two sets of stabilization fins that jutted from the ship’s bilge and keel and a main sail that was angled in the shape of a fin. The Grey Katherine got its name from the color schema that was used instead of traditional reds and light cobalt. Instead the frame was painted in what was known as bombard gray with alabaster coloring for the ceramic frame that formed the hammerhead to the hammership. The blue wing windows that Reed spotted first served as a stand-in for the ‘eyes’ of the beast. The glass was treated so that a crewman could look out while the outer stained glass decoration made it difficult for someone looking in to make out anything descriptive. Mona Reed began swimming back towards the ship, she had enough lazy circles and diving below for the day. She scaled the ladder that hung a few inches above the waterline and pulled herself up. Meeting her at the top was a human crewman named Beckwith. He offered a hand while gripping the balustrade underneath the leading rail for support.

 “Afraid I’d play a little joke and toss you in?” Mona sniggered as she stepped onto the deck. She had gone swimming with only a pair of swimmer’s shorts covering her lowering half for modesty sake. The rest of her was obscured by her fur. She did a quick shake to try and rid some excess water, causing Beckwith to curse as the droplets were flecked onto him.

“I guess nevermind about keeping dry around you, Mona,” Beckwith grumbled. He offered a towel that was hanging over the railing to Reed before brushing his own clothing off. Mona slipped back into her utilities and boots that she had left piled on the deck when she dove out for a swim.

In terms of height, Mona stood at average with a human female with a slender figure that made her an agile swimmer and a fast climber. In addition to performing general duties on board the ship, her main role was working the rigging crew, using her claws to climb up fast to trim or unfurl the dorsal sail that provided the Grey Katherine with extra speed to make time, or to better maneuver in a fight. How the sail worked, given that the Grey Katherine’s usual mode of travel was flying through the astral speed, was from the intricate symbols that were sewn into the fabric of the sail. Not every ship had sails, but without them, a greater magical strain was placed on the helm that provided power and direction of the ship.

 “Find anything interesting below?” Beckwith asked as they crossed the open deck towards the aft quarters.

 “Just a couple of trout, no lampreys or anything to be concerned about. How has it been topside?” Mona asked, waving at one of the other members of the rigging team.

 “Captain Sorenson already has Booker onboard to try and get a new contract after we clear out these pellets from the hold. Between docking fees and supplies, I wonder if she’s worried about making pay.” Currently what was in Mona and Beckwith’s pockets was what was known as ship script that would be traded for gold after the deal was finished. The only thing the script was good for was paying for on-board commissary, or as fuel if the night’s got too cold. Crews that wanted to enjoy a night in port were expected to exchange the script with either Quartermaster Dies, that was his last name, or Thaddeus Hunley, if Edmonton Dies was away spending his own gold at the card table.

 Once they passed into the after quarters and reached the stairs leading towards Captain Sorenson’s office, Mona looked at Beckwith and asked: “You planning to go up and see the Captain now?”

 Beckwith shook his head, “No point lingering until she calls us all together. Meet me in the galley later?”

 Mona nodded and the two broke off for the male and female quarters on the ship.

Welcome to the Cog & Quill

 

Gentle Readers,

As part of my first post, I wanted to welcome you to the Cog & Quill Blog which I view as a Solo & Prose companion blog to my main blog, The Gnomish Embassy. I actually have a few solo pieces over on the Embassy, but being perhaps a little bit fastidious, I decided I wanted to create a blog that is focused on my creative output without it getting bogged down between mechanics posts. Because this represents a more creative side of things, I cannot say I will give this blog daily updates, but I do hope to be a frequent poster and I hope you, gentle reader, will enjoy my output while you enjoy your stay at our lovely tavern by the sea, which I imagine is a short, cobble stoned laden walk from our lovely Embassy that also sits by the sea.