(2023-01-20) The Northspear - Day 01: No Safer Lot t'Travel With

Details

Author:	Luridel
Summary:	The Northspear sets out for the Howling Fjord. Befound is just a very large house cat and you can pet her. It's not a trap. Lucy and Halliday become best friends. Introductions are made. The boat is chased by its own shadow, which is not a thresher. Ace shares some Thunderbrew ale. ~8400 words.
Rating:	M for Mature 17+

Arc: Season 9

The sea mist rising into the frosty morning air at Menethil Harbor is joined and redoubled by the white steam billowing from the pipes at the stern of the ship moored at the northern dock, so that a low cloud-cover appears to have settled over the tranquil dawn waters. The ship itself is of a type that this harbor has not before seen, and a cluster of dwarven longshoremen stand a little distance away, explaining with broad and enthusiastic gesticulations its workings to a group of curious townspeople, as confidently as if they’d designed it themselves.

Most of the townspeople look dubious.

It is distinctly a vessel of dwarven design: Low-slung and powerful, it has an iron-clad hull and bladed prow, and is meant to be driven by a massive, steam-powered wheel set beneath its broad stern. Sailors and soldiers swarm the decks and gangplanks; still others stand yawning or shivering irritably on the dock, waiting to board. An honor guard of Khaz Modan Mountaineers stands at attention on the shore, ready for a rifle-salute sendoff.

Hexera steps out of the inn, having stayed the previous night, with Glynriel following right behind her, to the glares of the locals (unnoticed by Hex).

Hex is wearing her usual bright red robes, however, this time including a tabard so clean, fresh, and starched that you're almost certain it had never been worn before, with even hard fold creases still visible in places. The tabard depicts a set of silver wings on a deep blue background, the banner of the Cobalt Company Mercenary guild. Hex is clearly uncomfortable wearing the stiff article of clothing, but it was a uniformed gathering, so here she is.

On her back is a large pack, with many pockets filled with potions, reagents, a bedroll, and what appears to be multiple bottles of ink to go with what is no doubt a large number of books in her bag. As if that wasn't enough, Glyn also carried a sling bag as well, the corners of at least three hardcover books clearly visible from a brief inspection of the bags fabric.

A pair of similarly-tabarded dwarves makes their way onto the dock, chatting together in low, excited voices and pointing out different features of the boat. Something in the polite distance between them and obvious mutual curiosity suggests that this is their first conversation.

One is a fair-skinned and rather slight (for a dwarf) man of early-middle years with a wild mane of ginger hair and matching beard, the other a silver-haired woman with a nose piercing, a muscular build, and a sun-bronzed, weathered complexion.

A pale blue-grey draenei with black hair tied up in pigtails arrives to the boat alone, carrying only a backpack. Erixa gives a cheerful wave to the dwarves and heads onto the boat to get settled.

The red-bearded dwarf cheerfully returns Erixa's wave, then follows after her. The older woman lingers a bit on the dock as though waiting for someone.

"Lo there!" the slightly disheveled man says to the draenei. "I dinna think we've met. Prospector Brannagen Stillwall o' the Explorer's League. An' Cobalt Comp'ny, obviously." He gestures down at his tabard and then puts out a hand, which is surprisingly free of calluses for a supposed prospector.

Erixa gestures down at her own Cobalt Company tabard, and says, "Vindicator Erixa, pleased to meet."

Erixa's gaze tracks over to the similarly-tabarded woman with her demon, and her eyes narrow slightly.

A very tall, bronze-skinned young man with short, disheveled black hair has been standing to one side, arms folded across his chest, speaking seriously to an older human woman in the uniform and insignia of an Alliance army captain. Periodically he glances over his shoulder at arrivals, checking for faces and, possibly, counting heads.

He looks relaxed, if tired, and wears his pressed and spotless Cobalt Company tabard over a crisp white shirt (sleeves rolled) and navy blue trousers tucked into polished leather boots. Though he isn't presently armored, he wears a shield on his back. A sword is strapped to the leather pack propped against a nearby brass-bound trunk.

Their conversation apparently concluded, Ben inclines his head respectfully to the Alliance officer and turns away to scan the crowd again. He's definitely counting heads.

Bran gives Ben a hearty wave with his entire arm!

Ben grins and up-nods back at Bran.

Hex sits on some crates, looking around at the crowd to make sure she is in the right place, before being handed a book from Gynriel in some outland language and burying her face in it.

Bran's grin splits his fiery beard in two. Clearly he never thought he'd see the day…

A young man with extremely pretty brown hair is suddenly standing next to Ben, with an air as if he's been there the whole time. Sil laces his hands together nervously as he watches the others board.

Another boat pulls into dock. It is elven in make and soon a company of Sentinels begin to disembark from it, all wrapped up in thick furs and unloading weapons and supplies. At their head directing the activity is their captain, Velrin Silverbloom.

Sil looks over curiously at all the elves.

Bran also gives Sil a hearty wave with his entire arm!

Ben startles and casts a reproachful look down at Sil, and then elbows him companionably and juts his chin at the ship. "Pretty fucken amazin', right? Dwarves." He shakes his head admiringly. Dwarves. "I wonder how fast it'll go with that mill-wheel engine."

"Yeah, best boat I ever been on," Sil grins. He turns and waves to Bran. "Hey, look! Our Explorer's League mentor from way back!"

Bran, seeming to sense he's being talked about, makes his way over to the two young humans. "Well ye lads are a sight fer sore eyes!" he says, giving Sil a series of hearty thumps on the elbow (presumably since he can't reach his shoulder). "I was startin' t'worry tha' maybe this was gonna be a long, dour sort o' journey, but with the two of ye on board I reckon we'll have ourselves a good time after all, aye?"

A petite blonde woman in a simple green traveling dress with the Cobalt tabard over it comes aboard with a small pack. Lena eyes the kaldorei company a little nervously, but then seems unusually relieved to spot Hex with her succubus.

"Yeah, we'll have a good time," Sil says with a grin, some of his nervousness dissipating. "Hey, is that Velrin leadin' all those elves?"

Bran looks in the same direction Sil is looking, curiously.

Ben grins down at Bran. "Yessir. Never done a sea journey like this, and I got to say I'm lookin' forward to it. Maybe not so much at the—" Ben glances up to look in the same direction as Sil, and raises his eyebrows. "Hey, think it is, yeah." He catches sight of Lena and is immediately distracted. "Miss Coit, mornin'."

Lena waves at Ben and walks over, relieved. "Hey, you two. Looks like it's going to be a crowded boat."

Ben nods to her. "Almost twenty of ours, plus some Alliance and, it's lookin' like, Sentinels?"

Velrin glances over towards where the members of Cobalt Company is gathered a few times while she coordinates her troops unloading their ship and getting their supplies onto the ship to Northrend, but quickly averts her gaze when she notices anyone making eye contact.

Bran looks up at Lena curiously. "I dinna believe we've met. If so, I apologize. Prospector Brannagen Stillwall, Explorer's League!" He holds out his hand.

Lena shakes his hand with a smile. "Lena Coit, Cobalt Company. Which, I reckon you are too."

"Aye!" He moves aside his beard to better show the wings on his tabard. "Do some work for 'em time t'time, and thought there'd be no safer lot t'travel with in a Lightforsaken place like Northrend. Meanin' no disrespect t'my comrades in the League, an' I'll still be workin' with 'em up there… but nobody takes care o'their people like Cobalt Company does."

Still very early for the boat to arrive, another dwarf makes her way to the dock. There are deep shadows under her dark brown eyes, although some of them may be that it does not look as though this particular dwarf is much of a morning person. She catches another yawn as it slides free, and reshoulders her pack. She's dressed in leathers and mail that look meant for the frozen tundra, and her snow leopard seems equally well outfitted in her usual winter coat.

Oranna wanders closer, staring at the boat with a hollow sort of expression before she blinks as she processes what she's hearing and seeing, and zeroes in on Bran first, then Lireen, moving over to them like a magnetic pull of a coalition of short normal sized people. "Bran," Oranna croaks out, clears her throat, and tries again. "Bran."

"Erixa!" Pericleia calls. She is wearing a Cobalt Company tabard for perhaps the first time ever over her blue armor, and she hurries over to her fellow Vindicator. "I am going to practice Common on voyage," she announces.

Lucy Moore is way too awake for this hour of the morning. She is on board already, introducing herself to the crew and looking for Halliday.

"I am expert already on Common," Erixa says in Common with delight, waving at Pericleia. "I will help, and yours will be perfect too."

A tall figure with skin like the sky and hair of steel blue glides elegantly through the throngs of travelers, crew, and laborers bustling about on the pier. A brawny human lumbers along behind her, a large chest hoisted onto one shoulder. The draenei woman herself wears a backpack, also stuffed to the brim but clearly much lighter.

The worker grunts, "Wot you got in here anyway, miss?"

Paluuva smiles back at her helper. "Some archeological equipment. But mostly books."

"Books?!" The dockworker groans and mutters something unpleasant.

"I cannot express enough how much I appreciate your assistance, sir. I promise you will be duly compensated."

The assurance of payment seems to mollify the thickly muscled man and he keeps his silence as he makes his way toward the ship to stow the heavy cargo.

Halliday Bristow is standing on the quarterdeck , the wind wisping her pale blonde hair. She is a petite young woman with a sweetly angelic face and wide grey eyes, who looks potentially like she might be setting out on a high school exchange trip. She wears a tailored, high-collared grey wool coat with silver buttons, and is talking animatedly to a dwarven sailor beside her, who probably has actual work to do and is beginning to try to edge away from her, bemusedly.

Although you might not have seen her, a petite brown-haired woman with big dark eyes has been here. Totally. She peeks out from behind Ben. This is Many People. She whispers, "Did all our bags get on board?"

Ben glances back and down at her and smiles reassuringly. "Yes'm. All but that." He nods toward the trunk and his pack. "I'll get 'em in a minute." He turns and counts heads again. "… or maybe now, and then make another check."

"Well look who et es!" Bran's turquoise eyes almost disappear into little upside-down crescents of joy as he beams a smile at Oranna. "The loveliest lass in all o' Dun Morogh… and she's brought her dwarf friend, too!"

Lireen immediately moves to Oranna's side, tutting softly and brushing invisible lint from the shoulder of her leathers. She frowns at the dark circles under Oranna's eyes, but says nothing about it. "There y'are, dear," she says, half statement of fact, half reassurance.

Bran spots Paluuva and gives a sharp whistle that isn't exactly a catcall, but isn't exactly not one either.

Befound purrs a deep rumble and moves closer to Bran, although she doesn't leave Oranna's side, offering out a majestic head for scritches. You can trust her. She's just a very large house cat, dear sir. Pet her. It's not a trap.

Oranna nods at Lireen. There she is. The worry line in the middle of her forehead is deep, as she watches a large trunk in particular being loaded onto the ship. "Aye." She tries for a smile for Bran. It almost works, but it falls a little too see. "It's good ta see ye." That, at least, sounds truthful.

Bran considers the lorge house cat for a moment and compromises between caution and curiosity by offering a hand out for sniffins.

Ben slings his pack over his shoulder and hefts the trunk. He pauses to consider Oranna with grave-eyed concern. "Miz Oranna," he says respectfully, and looks her up and down. He cannot tell whether he likes her blouse today. "I am glad to see you."

He adjusts the weight of the trunk in his grip and then lumbers with it after Paluuva's attendant, toward the gangplank.

Befound sniff, sniff, sniffs. Eh. She's smelled weirder. She turns her head to the movement of the dock.

Oranna inhales, and looks up. Way up at Ben. "Aye." Another attempt at a smile. "Good ta see ye, lad." She starts forward to board the ship with a determination of someone who looks as though the ship might possibly bite, but she's trained for it. Despite the evidence of bad sleep on her face, she moves well, and steadily.

Befound trots alongside obediently.

Ismene scurries behind Ben. I will not make a flotsam joke, but y'know, if you wanted a metaphor.

Everyone loves a metaphor.

Lireen accompanies Oranna, and Bran follows Ben with the air of someone who has been Told This Young Man Is In Charge Here.

"Are you Halliday?" Lucy interjects at a moment where Halliday needs to breathe. "Hi! I'm Lucy!"

After a while as the Sentinels’ are easing into their duties of stowing away their equipment, a Sentinel with short, green hair approaches Ben and salutes, “Ishnu alah, I am lieutenant Riluvia Mistwalker. The captain requested that I ask after Cobalt Company’s preparations. Would you be their commanding officer?”

Hearing the names "Lucy" and "Halliday" in a single breath, Bran takes an immediate detour over to the two sweet-looking humans. "Lo there! Yer the lifeboats I take it? Hehe." He grins at them both. "Prospector Brannagen Stillwall, who will hopefully not be availin' meself of yer services en route."

Wait for meeee!

An iron-shod charger’s galloping hooves. The call of a golden signal horn. Gleaming, polished barding and shining armor catch the morning sun and reflect its light with a needle-piercing brightness.

“Ahoy, the northspear! Ahoy! Stormhammer coming in!”

The bellow feels loud enough to ruffle the sails. Horse and rider nimbly dodge people, leap over crates, and skid in the damp dock as the charger halts and a dwarf in shiny plate vaults off its back.

“I’m late,” Ace pants. “Sorry. I—“

She gleams. A brand new suit of armor, a round shield engraved with the finest hand, and a lightning spitting hammer hangs on her left hip. Her tabard is immaculately pressed, and her hair is braided in an intricate crown. And Ace Stormhammer, bluff, battle-mad shield-maid of ironforge, is wearing a full face of flawless makeup.

Bran, easily distracted, turns toward Ace's dramatic entrance and lets out a long, low whistle. "Daaaamn, lass," he murmurs, perhaps not quite loud enough for her to actually hear.

Ben, who's just emerged back on deck from stowing the last of his luggage, has just nodded respectfully to the Sentinel. "Yes'm, for this expedition purposes. Lieutenant Ben Haza—" He stops short, arrested wide-eyed by Ace's dramatic arrival.

Erixa notes the newcomer and tilts her head in a way that asks Pericleia to come with her. She walks over to greet Ace. "Hello, paladin. You are paladin, right? We are Vindicators, which also means paladin."

"Lucy! I'm Halliday, yes, Halliday Bristow." Halliday beams. (The sailor takes this moment to slip away.) "Do you know about ships?"

Ace’s face goes pink. “Sorry. My sister, she arranged an all night vigil and breakfast fête, and my father made the armor, and there wasn’t time to wash it all off.”
Ace cranes her head back and smiles. “Happy day, vindicator!”

"Ye look amazin'!" Bran waves Ace over. "C'mere an' meet the lifeboats!"

"Hi!" Lucy says to Bran. "We're the portal mages, yep!" Oh, he's leaving. It's fine.

To Halliday, she adds happily, "Nice to meet you! I know some things about ships but probably not as much as you want to know!"

Halliday blinks down at Bran. "Hello. Halliday Bristow. Do you —" She's also distracted by Ace. After a moment, with another glance at him, she echoes Bran's "Daaaamn, lass," uncertainly.

Pericleia looks way down at Ace. "Good fortune. I am Vindicator Pericleia, and this is Erixa."

Bran blinks at Halliday in surprise and then laughs uproariously.

Halliday is immediately distracted back again. "Oh, no, I know all about ships, my family's in shipping. The Bristows. Do you want to know anything about ships?"

“Hello, Erixa! Have you met Bran? You met Lt. Hazan I’m sure. I’m Ace Stormhammer, and i feel like I should be on top of a cake right now.”

Ismene has found a place to stand on deck where she is out of everyone's way and her back is up against a wall. Bulkhead? Is it a bulkhead on a ship? She looks at the wall over her shoulder in case it's written on the wall (or bulkhead). It is not written on the wall (possibly bulkhead). She's wearing a plain wool dress with her Cobalt Company tabard to dress it up a bit, though her arms are folded over it. She's just standing there, being tiny, watching the people. There are many.

"You look pretty amazin', Ace," Ben calls. "Puttin' the rest of us to shame." He grins at her.

"Oh! Yes please. Tell me what sort of sounds a ship makes when it's in danger?" Lucy grins at Halliday.

Erixa looks Ace up and down. "Or maybe in a cake, ready to jump out and be surprise. Is that not an Azeroth thing?" She turns and waves to Bran. "I think we never yet met. Please to meet you."

Bran takes Erixa's hand and pumps it enthusiastically. "Prospector Brannagen Stillwall! But I know yer lot aren't much fer long multisyllabic names, so Bran'll do."

Pericleia asks, "Multi…sillabic?"

"It means it has a lot of letters," Erixa says, as self-proclaimed Common expert. "Harder to say. Bran is good!"

"Aye, a syllable is like… a beat in a word. E-rix-a. Three syllables. Multi means many! So multisyllabic means, lots o' beats in the word."

"Do ye lot know Ace Stormhammer? An' over there's Oranna Stormbreaker an' — uh, a nice older woman with her, name slips me mind."

After seeing that her trunk is secured, Paluuva gives a gracious bow of her head to the worker assisting her, and slips him a small, jingling bag. His sour demeanor melts away and he departs with a broad grin.

Paluuva returns to the dock to stay out of the way of those working hard to prep the ship. Approaching Bran and the draenei with him, she offers the dwarf a gentle smile…and did her cheeks just go a little bluer?

She inclines her head to those gathered. "Archenon poros. This is quite an exciting day."

Erixa raises an eyebrow slightly at Paluuva but doesn't comment.

"Just got a li'l more excitin' aye," Bran says with a wink to Paluuva. "I assume ye brought… books?" His eyes sparkle.

"Teacher Paluuva!" Pericleia looks genuinely excited to see her. "You are on ship with us!" Her Common is still heavily accented.

Paluuva gives Bran a subtle wink. "Of course. Many books…on a variety of subjects." She practically purrs the words.

Turning her attention to Pericleia, Paluuva gasps softly, her face lighting up with even more excitement. "By the Light. Little Peri! You are not so little anymore." She looks from Peri to Erixa. "How wonderful we will all be traveling together."

Bran shifts his weight with a vaguely restless air, energy all but visibly vibrating off him. "I'm gonna go check out the situation below decks!" he announces, and then disappears to do so.

Pericleia, who is very much an adult and over a thousand years old, smiles in a way that makes her look younger. "Yes! I am to protect ship and Cobalt Company on voyage."

Paluuva's eyes trail after Bran for a moment, but quickly pulls her attention back to Pericleia. "Between you and Erixa being here, I feel as safe as can be."

A timid priestess with sand colored hair steps onto the boat, carrying only a single bag of supplies on her back, and tightly gripping her staff. She smiles, seeing at least one familiar face, and makes an effort to straighten out her cobalt blue tabard before finding a spot out of the way to stand.

Pericleia stands a little straighter. "Yes. I am practicing Common on voyage. I will learn to speak well."

"I have no doubt that you will." Paluuva looks upon her former pupil with pride. "Should you desire any guidance, I am always available to you."

Pericleia smiles. "I will ask when there are new words. Now… I make introductions." She looks around, sees two (2) shy people who look like they might be priestesses, and moves towards the closest one.

"Good fortune," Pericleia says, bowing politely to Jenzelle.

Riluvia glances over at Ace’s arrival as well but continues with her business, “Well met lieutenant Ben.” She salutes, “You seem to have quite the force assembled here today. I must say I wasn’t expecting so much from a private mercenary company.”

Halliday is now chatting Lucy's ear off excitedly about the potential species of danger a ship might encounter at sea (organized roughly by particular sea, climate, and weather system) and the various noises these assorted hazards might produce.

It seems that Halliday has found at least one person on this ship who is happy to listen and even take notes on a cute little notepad. Lucy smiles and nods along and is, in fact, actually genuinely listening. Like she's interested.

Halliday and Lucy are now best friends.

"Cobalt takes its responsibility to Azeroth an' the Alliance pretty seriously, ma'am," Ben tells the elf gravely. "I'm glad to see y'all here too. We had a Sentinel lieutenant until just recent. I got a lot of respect." He nods. Respectfully. "Is that Velrin Silverbloom I saw with y'all?"

Ismene is still plastered up against the bulkhead (she has remembered it is a bulkhead). Her eyes track the movement of people. Of which there are many. She does pause to look at Ben every now and then. Because Ben. Her gaze lingers for a moment on Halliday. But no, it moves on again and she is smol human.

“Oh is that so?” Riluvia replies, slightly intrigued, “And yes, Silverbloom is our captain. It will be good to serve under her again. She had a special assignment not long ago and has been on personal leave for some time.” She looks over at Velrin directing the last of the preparations and smiles, “The time away seems to have done her well. She can be rather sullen sometimes, err- maybe don’t tell her I said that last bit though…” Riluvia chuckles nervously, “Do you know the captain?”

Ben smiles crookedly back at the lieutenant. "Reckon we might've been the special assignment. She did some work with us, anyhow, not long ago." He sweeps a gaze across the deck, searching absently: counting heads again, perhaps. He smiles at Mizzy, and then raises his eyebrows and nods at Jenzelle.

Nunuzac has been lingering around near the other draenei for a bit, people watching in an unusually reserved way, her unruly head of static wicked into points by salt spray. Humans, dwarves—a very theatrical entrance, that one—is that a succubus?? Her cheerful smile goes strained and eyes flick around in a very is-anybody-else-seeing-this sort of way.

Mizzy's eyes widen even more. She stares at Ben in terror. She is against the safety wall, Bennarin.

“Oh, I see.” Riluvia glances back at Velrin again, “I suppose she will be making her own introductions soon then. I thought something seemed off when she asked me to greet you rather than leaving the preparations to me, but there are few women brave enough to question a Silverbloom’s orders.” She says with a laugh, “Well if you require any aid with your own preparations do let me know. It looks as though ours are nearly complete, and it is the captain’s policy to render aid to our allies whenever possible.”

"'Preciate you," Ben says affably. "Reckon mine are about ready to go, too."

He steps away from the kaldorei and gives a piercing whistle through his teeth that ceases half the activity on the dock and most of that on the ship; they may have heard him back in Loch Modan.

"Cobalt!" he calls in the resultant relative silence. "We about ready?"

"Oh! Hi, Ben!" Lucy waves. "I'm ready!" To Halliday, her new best friend, she adds, "That's Ben. Have you met him?"

Halliday eyes Ben with a faint air of disapproval. "Yes," she says. "He's married to Ismene." She manages to make this sound dire. Ismene has been afflicted with a Ben. Then, brightly, "Do you know Ismene? That's her." She points directly at Mizzy by her Safety Wall, and rises on tiptoe to wave furiously.

Ismene unwraps an arm from around her waist juuuust enough to barely lift one hand to waist-height and wave it happily. One can assume it's happily, at any rate, as her panicked expression looks a bit less AAAAA and a little more Aaaaa.

Ben nods crisply at the Alliance officer to whom he'd been speaking earlier. She turns and says something to the dwarven sailor beside her, and he turns and bellows, "FIRE'ER UP, LADS!" The boiler rumbles underfoot. The Menethil townsfolk crowd the dock's perimeter as sailors swarm to cast off.

As the icebreaker eases away from the dock, her wheel beginning to churn, the Mountaineers on the shore raise their rifles sharply. There is a short count, and then the guns crack a salute in the morning air. The Northspear is away.

Lireen gives a little goodbye wave to the townsfolk from the railing. Bran is still nowhere to be seen.

Ismene squeaks at the motion and puts her hand back down.

Lena walks over to Lucy and Halliday, not paying all that much attention to the departure of the boat. "Halliday!" she says with a smile, and turns to Lucy. "And I'm not sure we've met? I'm Lena."

Sil walks over to the railing, looking back at the harbor with something just a little bit like longing in his eyes.

Erixa follows Pericleia over to the priestess (Jenzelle), and waits patiently for her to introduce herself.

Ace stands with her feet apart, learning how to stand steady as the ship bobs and gathers speed in its sails. she gazes up at the sky, at the clouds and seabirds, and her smile grows as bright as the morning. "This is amazing," she says, breathlessly. "I'm on a—"

Jenzelle smiles up at Pericleia and attempts a wobbly curtsy back. "Hello, and, um…thank you?" And then Erixa joins them and now there are two. "I, uh…I've never been on a boat. It's exciting, a little bit, and scary, and I hope we actually get where we're going, because it's such a nice boat, and if we don't get there then that means the boat will have…oh gosh, that's a terrible thing to start talking about, I'm sorry."

"Crashed ship is not the worst that can happen," Erixa says comfortingly. "We're on Azeroth because of a crashed ship. It worked out."

Pericleia tries to look friendly instead of intimidating. "My name is Pericleia. I am a Vindicator, which is like a paladin. What is your name?" Those lines sound rehearsed.

Jenzelle's eyes go wide at Erixa's statement, and she is about to object, but Pericleia's introduction throws her off. "Oh, nice to meet you, I'm Jenzelle Halveris. A priestess." Her nervous smile says she really hopes Pericleia knows what a priestess is. She glances at Erixa again.

"I'm a Vindicator as well," Erixa says, nodding at Pericleia. She's trusting for her smile to get 'friendly' across clearly enough. "And name of Erixa. You're a priestess, so we are sisters in the Light."

"Yes, I suppose we are!" Jenzelle relaxes, her hands loosening the vice grip she has on her staff.

"Nice to meet you," Pericleia repeats. She nods to Erixa and confirms, "Sisters in the light. If you have problems on ship, or there is danger from ocean, we will keep you safe."

"Well that's very kind of you," Jenzelle says. "But hopefully there are no problems."

"That is what we do," Erixa says, nodding at Pericleia. "We protect."

"I hope no problems as well," Pericleia says. She tries to sound convincing. It is possible she might be hoping for a problem, though. Just a tiny one. Who knows. Hard to tell.

"Oh, I don't think I do!" Lucy joins in waving at Ismene.

"Lena, nice to meet you. I'm Lucy!" Lucy waves cheerfully at Lena. "Halliday and I are your portal mages for the trip."

Ben ambles over to the trio, and turns to grin at Mizzy standing a little ways away by the Safety Wall. He stretches an arm out in her direction, a distant invitation, and then smiles at Jenzelle. "Miss Halveris. How you been?"

Halliday turns her frantic waving on Lena, beaming.

That is some distance to cover, but because there is Ben Shelter at the end of it, Ismene peels herself off the Safety Wall and walks across the deck, head down, until she can slide under Ben's arm. She gives Halliday another wave and a little smile too because hey bestie.

Velrin seems to be doing her best to keep her distance from the other members of Cobalt. She ambles about looking for things to do or tell her soldiers to do, or occasionally taking a moment to talk to another white haired night elf presumably under her command.

Pericleia turns towards Ben and Ismene and repeats her now very obviously rehearsed introduction: "My name is Pericleia. I am a Vindicator, which is like a paladin. What is your name?"

Ben hugs Mizzy to his side firmly and smiles at the other three again. "This's my wife, Mrs. Ismene Hazan." To Jenzelle specifically, he says, "Also a priestess, miss."

Jenzelle also gets a tiny wave and a smaller smile. Not bestie but maybe frendo.

Puzzled by her behavior, Sil wanders over to the night elves and waves to Velrin. "Hey there! You are Velrin, right? Not like, a twin sister?"

Velrin snaps to attention a little too fast, “Y-yes. Hello. It seems my company is traveling north on the same boat as you.” The white haired woman next to her smirks and says quietly in Darnassian, “Finally taking the time to catch up, hm?” Velrin shoots her a death glare and she shrinks.

"Wow, that's good luck!" Sil smiles. "You can hang out some with Ben and me, since we didn't get to all that much back then. You nervous about the boat ride?"

Bran emerges from below decks and immediately begins moving all around the deck, rushing from one side of the boat to the other like an excited fisherman's dog, trying to find the best view.

“O-oh, that’s very kind of you…” Velrin tenses up. Riluvia comes up to her with a smile and pats her on the back and says in Darnassian, “Go on, Captain. I’m sure they’re all eager to catch up. And don’t worry. I’ll keep the girls in line.” Velrin looks back and forth between Riluvia and Sil a few times, then reluctantly stands, “Of course. Lead the way. Oh, and I’m not nervous so much as out of practice I suppose. It’s been a while and I’m still not quite in fighting form yet.”

(Velrin looks as healthy as ever, if a bit less muscular than before.)

"Hopefully we'll have enough room to train up," Sil says, walking back over to the cluster of draenei and humans with Ben. "I wouldn't want to lose my knife-throwing edge, either."

Sil waves to the group as they approach.

Ben leans back a little to grin at Sil and Velrin, without releasing Mizzy from the Arm of Shelter. "Hey, there. Velrin, nice to see you again. You met my wife? Velrin Silverbloom, Ismene Hazan. Mizmainy, Velrin."

His gaze drifts past Sil and Velrin to Bran. He sort of looks like he would also like to be bounding from rail to rail.

Ismene smiles politely at Velrin. "Pleased to see you again," she says, s l o w l y edging behind Ben like Homer disappearing into a hedge.

Ben is a stoic hedge. This is clearly an accustomed role.

Erixa waves at Velrin. "I am Erixa, a Vindicator. Your people were kind when we landed, after they decided we were not demons."

Ismene manages to twist a shoulder and nudge Silvestre in front of her. You know. To be polite, so he's in the conversational circle. Not just to hide the rest of her behind so she can still peek out.

“I do believe we have met once or twice. Hello miss Ismene.” Velrin says with a smile.

Pericleia bows politely to Velrin. "My name is Pericleia. I am a Vindicator, which is like a paladin. What-" Pericleia breaks from her script, because she's already heard a name. "Your name is… Velrin?"

“Yes?” Velrin says unsure of how to respond, “Have we met?”

Pericleia shakes her head no. "I am… making introductions. I do not know many yet, but we are to fight together in Northrend, so I must learn."

“Ah, yes of course. A pleasure to meet you, Pericelia.”

"Velrin's wonderful," Ismene pipes up from somewhere behind Ben and Silvestre.

Pericleia smiles at Velrin. "Yes, it is pleasure to meet you. Where do I go in ship when it is time for sleep, do you know? Do I claim room? Is place assigned to me?"

Ben clears his throat and looks between the two. "Cobalt's got hammock space belowdeck on the… port aft, I think is what it's called? Means back left? Pretty close up to the boiler and wheel so there'll be some noise, but it's warm."

“I think I might have a small cabin to myself since I’m an officer but I don’t recall. I didn’t press the issue.” Velrin pulls out a dossier filled with various papers written on neatly in Thalassian, “Though I hope I do. I could use some quiet to go over these reports.”

"What are the Sentinels doin' up there?" Sil asks, curious. "Or is it top secret?"

"Ooh, think a thresher's tryin t'follow us!" Bran says excitedly to no one, peering over the rail into the water, his ginger hair flying. "Look at 'im go! Fast one!"

That is entirely too much temptation for Ben, and he detaches himself hastily from the group — whoops, Mizzy has already vanished from behind him, like some kind of magic trick? — and jogs over to the rail by Bran. "Where?"

"Thank you," Pericleia says with a small bow to Ben and Velrin. She looks curiously over towards Bran at the possibility that she might get to fight a sea monster.

Bran points. "See it there, big shape under the water? Leastways I hope it's a thresher."

“Just the same soldiery as everyone else, nothing too special.” Velrin says as she skims the documents, “However, I’ve been assigned to lead a joint company with the Silver Covenant, a group of high elves based in Dalaran. Their numbers are quite small so the alliance decided to have them coordinate their efforts with other forces, namely the Sentinels. I was chosen to lead a company myself due to my experience with high elves and also in commanding mixed units.”

Ben squints dubiously at the shadow in the water. "You sure that ain't… our shadow? The boat's?"

Bran squints his turquoise eyes at the shape in the water and then sighs in disappointment. "Aye, lad, I think ye may be right." He looks wistful for a moment and then says brightly, "Wonder if we could lure a thresher over? Real curious to see if one could keep up."

"Oh, yeah, I wonder." Ben straightens up and looks around. "They eat meat, yeah? Carnivore?"

No, he isn't wondering whether any of the crew is superfluous.

Probably.

"Aye, they seem a bit too fond o' dwarf, if ye ask me. Not volunteerin' as bait, though, ef ye were gonna ask."

"High elves," Sil says brightening. "Which are totally different from sin'dorei even though in another way they're not. You worked with them a lot before? I got sin'dorei friends but not quel'dorei."

“A bit, yes, but that was a long time ago. I’ve been meaning to see if any of my old comrades are still alive somewhere.” Velrin says as she reads, “Oh, Taeavon Noonshade. I worked with him once in the Plaguelands.” She looks up, “Well I guess that means I know one of my lieutenants.”

"That's good news then," Sil smiles. "Good to work with folks you know. Think I could meet some of those high elves someday too?"

Ben resigns himself to not being pursued by a thresher and pats the rail, turning around to scan the deck again absently. "All right. I'm gonna go below an' see how everyone's gettin' set down there. Expect I will be up again in soon enough." He nods to Bran, crosses back to the group and pats Sil on the shoulder as he passes, nodding to Velrin and the draenei, and then vanishes belowdecks.

“Perhaps,” Velrin replies, “We will see how closely my company will be working with Cobalt.”

Erixa says, "Surely we all work to the same goal? Killing this Lich King. Though maybe many smaller goals along the way."

(insert above somewhere) Jenzelle greets Ben with a wave, happy to see someone she recognizes. "Hello, Ben. I'm doing okay. Excited. Well, nervous really. It's my first big assignment with the Company, after all." She smiles at Ismene as she is introduced, and waves back. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Jenzelle."

Night has also fallen aboard the Northspear.

Ben Hazan returns to the deck as the ship thrums along through placid dark waters, trailing steam and white churn. The wind-whipped night sky is clear, the stars a scatter of luminous dust, the blue lesser moon still low in the sky.

Ben has changed from the crisp clothing of earlier and is now wearing his accustomed work trousers and boots with a battered sheepskin jacket, its collar turned up, and a knit watch cap. A pair of knitting needles protrude from the pocket of his jacket, and yarn trails. He leans on the railing and considers the sea ahead.

Brannagen appears from somewhere at around the same time, a flask in his hand and a rosy glow on his cheeks above his fiery beard. "Splendid night!" he booms cheerfully. "Like diamond dust spilt on obsidian!" He gestures grandly and perhaps a little tipsily at the sky with the hand not holding his flask.

Ben glances over his shoulder at Bran and smiles crookedly, then squints up at the sky again. He nods. "Hell of a somethin'. I never saw a sky like it, I do not think. You?" He straightens up and tucks the trailing ends of yarn more securely into his jacket pocket, a gesture of absent habit.

"You meet everyone else yet? I ran out of track of who all'd been introduced and who all knew who all else before I went down, before."

"Pretty sure I've said 'lo to jest about everyone now as I've been wanderin' about. Some I knew afore, o' course. You an' young Silver, an' Paluuva the schoolteacher. Lookin' forward to findin out every li'l thing about everyone when they get bored enough t'spill it." His turquoise eyes sparkle with good humored curiosity. "Lotta good stories aboard a vessel like this I'd wager."

Ben grins back. "I do hope, yeah." He leans on the rail again, just one elbow this time, angled aside so he can keep conversing with Bran. "How well you know Paluuva? I have known her to talk to, but I would not say well, and she is comin' on a lieutenant now. Want to make sure I am on a right foot with her, to work together."

"Oh, she's a treasure," says the Prospector, who ought to know from treasure. His eyes sparkle. "We stayed up late inta the night once, talkin' etymology, or was it entomology? Both, I think. Passin' books back an' forth until we were all over paper cuts." He relates this in the same tone another man might boast of something scandalously lewd.

"One is words and one is bugs," Ben says aloud, presumably to himself rather than Bran, who seems aware. "Books, huh? I like books. Okay. I mean, she seems like a hell of a lady. Just never worked with her. Sir Elohad thinks pretty high of her, though, and I know Erika and Nunu do too."

He eyes Bran. "What're you drinkin', there?"

"Just a li'l taste o' home," Bran says with a smile. "The Stillwalls are brewers, y'see, despite my wanderin' off down me own irregular path. Nothin' t'compete with the Barleybrews or the like, but we always sold enough t'meet our modest needs. I'm honestly a Thunderbrew man m'self - don't tell! - but in a fit o' sentiment I pinched a few flasks o' the family brand as I was packin' up an' I mean t' treat myself ta one any time a day comes up that seems worthy o' special celebration. What better time than the first night at sea, aye?"

There's a light step and Lena wanders up on deck, her blonde hair loose and wearing a blue cotton dress. Seeing Bran and Ben, she moves quietly over toward them.

Ben's expression softens a little, unaccountably, and he smiles again. "Yessir, what better, I guess." He looks up at the sky again.

"Lo there lass!" Bran says brightly to Lena.

Ben glances back. He smiles again. "Hey, Miss Coit. What brings you up? Little chilly out here in the wind."

"Hello, Prospector," Lena smiles and steps up to the railing. She sniffs once, and then notes the knitting needles in Ben's pocket. "Just a bit restless is all. Same you lot, I reckon?"

"I fell asleep some earlier. Was a long night last night. But yeah — I woke up, wanted to stretch out, wanted to come see it some more. First long voyage at sea an' all. You seen it all before, though, I guess." He hunkers down in his jacket a little. "I am cold just lookin' at you, damn. Maybe ought to get some brandy or somethin' out here myself."

"It's not so bad yet," Lena says, then shivers. "Okay, maybe it's a lot warmer down below with everybody packed together. I haven't seen this trip, though. Never once been to Northrend."

"Ye should both consider growin long beards," Bran says, eyes twinkling. "Nothin's better at keepin' ye warm."

"Well that makes all of us," Ben says drily. He grins at Lena.

Lena winds her hair about her neck and grins at Bran. "I ought to grow it a bit longer. Make a nice scarf."

Ben rubs his stubbled jaw. "I do not reckon it is quite the look on a human fellow it is on a dwarf, sir. Now, maybe on Miss Coit…."

"Ye'd look right fetchin' with a beard, aye lass," he says, admiring the hair-scarf.

Lena giggles and lets the hair drop. "You two been drinking out here, though? Best be sure you don't fall over."

"Dwarf, lass."

"I have not," Ben says a little regretfully. "I just come up to look at the —" He jerks a thumb at the night sky. "Maybe knit some. But the wind's maybe too much for it."

"Knittin's a peculiar pastime fer a warrior type."

"Why so?" Lena asks. "I knit, too."

"Yer no warrior, though, I'd wager."

Ben shrugs. "I like to make shit. I'm a blacksmith, too. I can make you armor, I can make you socks." He grins. "Socks maybe not the best, though. I'm workin' on it."

"You're getting there, Ben," Lena grins at him. Then she adds to Bran, "Not a warrior, no," she looks out over the water. "But I am a warlock."

"A good one," Ben says ambiguously. "Hey — you talk to May before we left? Mayellen?"

"Yeah, hated to leave her learnin' with Tyrrell on her own," Lena grimaces. "But I'll be back, eventually."

Ben nods. "Both will. All of us will, Light willin'. She was pretty down about it all, though, when I saw her last. I felt bad. She's gonna be missin' you."

"I'll miss her, too," Lena says, shivering again. "Miss a lot of things. Reckon you two will, too."

Ben shrugs neutrally, then turns to squint manfully into the wind. Hazans don't miss things. Ben is a Tower.

"So who's Mayellen then?" Bran says. He's clearly never considered that anything might fall outside of the category of His Business.

Ben glances down. "Oh, she's my — kid, a kid I known, not my kid but just a kid I known growin' up. I mean, not a kid anymore, I guess. A girl."

Nailed it.

"And a friend of mine," Lena explains. "Fellow student. Well, lady fellow student…"

Bran looks between the two of them, turquoise eyes sharp as a hawk who has spotted some interesting movement in the grass.

"A lady fellow student, or a fellow lady student?" Ben peers at Lena.

"I… what?" Lena blinks. "Is there a difference between the two?"

Ben furrows his brow. "Well, yeah, I mean — d'you mean she is —" He considers. "You know the difference between, 'Yeah, no,' and 'No, yeah'?" He eyes Lena hopefully. "It's like that."

Bran clearly has no idea either, but looks eager to take notes.

"ANYway," says Ben. This is clearly not a Westfallian Philology crowd. "Don't s'pose you are willin' to share, Bran? Or I can duck below an' get a flask."

Lena tilts her head, staring at Ben as if that might make meanings come clear.

"Share me special family brew rationed out carefully from home? Are ye off yer rocker lad? Get yer own!" He bellows a good-natured laugh.

Ben grins at Bran amicably. "Yeah I kind of had that figured. Okay, gonna jog below a minute. Miss Coit, get you anything? … A coat, maybe?"

"I might just head down for now, see if I can get some shut-eye," Lena smiles, pushes back from the rail.

It's late, and Ace is back on deck. The makeup's been washed off, the gleaming armor put away in favor of a knee-length quilted wool tunic embroidered with meadow flowers and trousers tucked into felt boots. a pair of gloves sit tucked into her belt in case of cold—and she trots across the deck with a…reasonably small keg of ale.

"Oh, here we go!" says Bran delightedly at the sight of the keg. And his friend Ace, of course.

"Thought we might need a wee swallow!"

Bran tucks his flask away somewhere in his innumerable pockets and rubs his hands together, eyes on the keg. "What ye got in there? Barleybrew? Thunderbrew, dare I hope?"

Lena heads back down into the hold.

Ace sets it down and pulls a tap screw out of her pocket. "My sister handled every detail," she says. "They're all Thunderbrew."

She's thinking that supporting an Ironforge mercenary company is only sensible. Ask what it'll actually cost us later.

"BRILLIANT!"

Ben peers over Bran's head, his eyes alight. "… all?" he asks reverently. "Like… more'n one?"

"Four. IF there's any left over we'll have it for camp."

Ben whistles and rubs his hands together. The latter is actually probably because of the chill wind, but it does look a little bit like cartoonish glee.

"She's a gift o' the Titans, is she nae?" Bran says, beaming at Ace.

Ace shrugs one shoulder. "Today, anyway."

"I was goin' to tell you before that I am glad we got you aboard with our group, but if I say it now I am gonna sound kind of… mercenary. I guess."

"Ha!"

"We're every one of us quite literally a mercenary on this trip, lad. Embrace it!"

"None bigger than Janeta. We're being fatted like lambs."

Ben grins, chip-toothed. "Was a joke, sir, see? And I'd say I don't mind bein' fatted like a lamb but I reckon lambs don't mind it neither until it gets too late. What's your sister after?" Ben crowds closer to the keg.

Ace pours mugs. "That's not totally fair. When my sister does something, she wants to be the best. Doesn't matter what it is. She'll learn everything she can and find three variants that are more efficient. Father wants to be a senator…and she's throwing everything she has into building that kind of power."

"Whoof!" says Bran, somehow sympathetically.

Bran remains on deck and interjects cheery conversational noises for the duration of the drinking and socializing, despite the fact that his player is no longer able to remain upright and/or conscious.

Ben looks thoughtful. "Not gonna lie, I kind of 'preciate that? In a person? Wantin' a thing and wantin' to do it as good as possible and three ways different?" He accepts a mug from Ace with a grateful nod.

"Overachiever." Ace says. "You're right. But it's hard to compete."

Ben tips his head thoughtfully. "Why you competin'? She's your sister." It sounds like an earnest question, not a Psychology. His dark eyes study her as he drinks.

"Because she always wins," Ace says. "Unless I don't play the game at all."

Ace looks up. "Think I'm gonna stare at the stars."

Ben nods uncertainly at her. "Okay. Beg pardon f'I offended. Thanks for the beer." He salutes her with the mug, and crosses to the other side of the deck to settle with his beer on some crates. He watches the stars too, and drinks.

After a time, he takes the wad of yarn and needles from his pocket and begins to knit.

After even more time, he gets up quietly and goes back below.