- Markshire PCs:
[dialogue in the elven tongue]
“It’ll get better, you’ll see. I’ve never met anybody who had their sea legs natural—we’ve all earned ‘em the same way y’re doin’ it.” Marco tossed her a damp rag.
“It is not,” Sun-Ok halted as another retch started and then came out as merely an explosive burp. “It is not my legs that are bothering me.” She threw the rag back at him.
“Aye, lass, I know. Still, we need to get yer legs under you, or next time you go running for the rail, ye’ll pitch right over. You’ve great balance—start with that.”
“But my balance comes from the earth.” Sun paused as she fought down another burp. “In the Kingdom, we learn in military arts and everyday stretching that power flows from the earth, it is our one lasting connection to the world around us, to each other, even to opponents.” She yanked a bucket toward her, furious with her body’s lack of control as she was wracked by another heave. “Here there’s no earth, no source, and thus no…discipline. Uggggggghhh.,” she finished with a moan.
“Right, just heaving and pitching, up down, back and forth.”
Sun vomited forcefully. “And I thought you were a nice guy. Please shut up.”
“Sorry,” grinned Marco. “Wherever you get your legs, you’d better find ‘em soon, or the Cap’n ‘ll make me lash you to the mast.”
“Not the mast—I’d make the deck too messy.”
“Ha. Ye’re right, probably at the end of the yardarm.” He stood and smiled, seeing in her humor the strength to overcome. “We’ll make a sailor of you yet. See if you can sleep and…”
“That barrel has some seawater in it, should ya want to wash out yer hair, yer clothes…”
“My hair?” she said, her face suddenly filling with rage. “Marco, get me a looking-glass. Right NOW!”
Next morning, she looked to Marco a bit less green. And clean—studiously, fastidiously clean. There was even a scent of something fresh in the air, though he couldn’t quite identify the odor. “How by the gods did ya manage that on this old barge, with just some seawater?”
“Manage what?” Sun asked, innocently.
“The..your…Never mind.” He shook his head. “Well you look a bit better. Shall we go get some breakfast, so you can sacrifice it to the gods of wind and sea later?”
“Well, don’t expect too much out of Ratsnuh—about all he can do aboard now is cook, and he’s not all that good at that. But let’s go.”