- Messages
- 73
- Character Biography
- Link
"Get those barrels unloaded now you slimy urchins!"
Rook grunted as he helped heave another barrel of oil up from the bowels of the ship he had called home for months now. Crucial to the nightly activities of Alleria's merchants and scholars alike. The ship, like so many more, had set sail up the strait to the Nahas Ocean to hunt down the large beasts of the open depths for their precious blubber that they turned into the stuff that current filled the heavy object he was pushing up as another pulled one after another. A task that was feeling more and more endless every passing moment.
Everything stunk. The ship. The product. The crew. So did he as he worked with and around them all. A scent he had grown familiar with to the point of forgetting it even existed.
When they had started there was a thin thread of light across the horizon. As the last of their product was unloaded the light now dominated the entirety of the sky. He felt exhausted after months of hard labor... but it was finally at an end. The time for pay and time for rest finally arrived. It was going to be a good day!
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Rook counted the coins handed to him by the ship's quartermaster. He frowned then counted again.
"Problem?" The older man said as he scribbled in his books.
"It's short." Rook said still frowning.
The quartermaster looked up and used the end of his wooden quill to count the coins. "All there. That is your pay."
"This isn't what was agreed on, and we made enough barrels for the extra pay." Rook said firmly back.
The quartermaster looked up at the younger man. Firm and annoyed in equal measures. "After taking out what you owe us for room, board, and meals with the extra that is all you get.... Or do you got papers to prove me otherwise?"
Rook wanted to sneer. There were no papers. How many of the crew could even read or write? He could but no one signed up by making a contract. The quartermaster knew it and so did he. Nothing he could do.
The young man pocketed his pay as the quartermaster waved him off and went back to his work. He called out for the next crew member to enter. The next to be ripped off after months of hard work procuring a product that had already been sold and was being loaded up into various carts and wagons. Lots of people moving barrels and crates with oil and preserved meat....
Rook had an idea as he noticed it. He looked around the quartermaster's table. No one was paying much attention. Quickly he walked over and picked up a crate nearly too large and heavy for him to carry on his own. Then he began walking. He was going home. It wasn't theft. He was owed and he was just taking him part in goods instead. Bottles of oil and cloth wrapped meat. He had mouths to feed and keep a roof over the heads of after all.
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Rook pressed up against the door and made a hand free enough to open it up. Then he quickly grabbed the crate again before pushing with his hips. He entered his home again after months at sea. Familiar yet different at the same time. A smile crept over his face. He smelled of whale, salt, smoke, and blubber as he walked towards the kitchen.
"I'm home.... Everyone still alive?" Rook said first with cheer that turned into fear at the end. By Alliria he hoped they had survived without him home for months.
