Shipwreck! IC- see sign ups

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
The day dawned bright and clear in Vanguard as Captain Nellison and his crew hefted anchor for their long journey. The ship was full, a good crew and a company of marines. Captain Nellison was proud of his ship and crew. The had spent many long years together and knew each other very well.

There was Benny the cook, a grizzled veteran of many a battle, that had decided to join with Nellison to form the fledgling trade enterprise. They first trapped furs in the Grizzly Hills and fought the natives there. After many years, they found their friendship growing and they soon had enough to start their own business.

Nellison had met his first mate Raevien when he worked on the Jaunty Maiden as a deckhand. It was she who taught him the joy of sailing and the skills he would need as a sailor. He loved the sea and always preferred it to any other way of travel. The two became fast friends, though she refused to let the friendship go beyond that. She was kind to him and a staunch ally in times of battle. Nellison knew how fierce she was, he respected her for it.

When the Captain of the Jaunty Maiden decided to retire and simply while away his time fishing off the banks of the harbor in Stormwind, Nellison had begged him to sell the ship to the young sailor. The old man chuckled as he agreed. "As long as I can still see her once in awhile and know you can take care of her...I will can pay me with a share in your profits and I will agree to let you Captain her and use the ship for trade. She was built for it after all."

Nellison was overjoyed at the news and gladly struck a bargain with the old man. Now they were the finest ship on the seas, often called upon to haul returning troops home. They never failed to make scheduled runs and always had full hold of trade goods.

This day was no different. After checking with the Harbormaster, Captain Nellison went on board ship to greet his crew and get ready to set sail. The First Mate Raevien saluted him with honor as he came on board. The crew bustled about getting things settled and stowed for the trip. There was a scuffle as the last stowaway was found and hustled off the ship. Nellison scowled at the human rogue and made a dry comment. "Be lucky we found you now and not when we were out to sea! Or you would have walked the plank!"

Raevien rolled her eyes as he came up on the top deck and whispered to him, "You have never done that...were you trying to scare him? I have seen you do some strange things, Captain, but you are not a pirate!"

Nellison grinned and leaned over to whisper back. "I just wanted to make an impression on the young man...stowaways can be dangerous...I don't need them...I want paying passengers."

Benny came on deck about that time with some crates of supplies. He sent the crewmember below decks with instructiions on stowing the crates and headed up to salute the Captain. "All is ready on my end Captain."

With that done Nellison gave the orders to Raevien and she saluted him with a grin and directed the crew. "All aboard who are coming aboard! The Jaunty Maiden is about to set sail! You have one tick of the ships bells to get yourselves settled and we cast off!" Her voice carried over the decks and the crew began getting ready to pull the gangplank on board. The Harbormaster nodded from the docks and the crew cast off the lines and weighed anchor. The clank and splash of the huge anchor being winched up filled the air. The ship rocked slightly as the moorings were released.

All on board could feel the ship sway and hear the slight creak of the wooden planks. The ships bells tolled with a sharp clang and the sails were raised a few at a time to ease the Jaunty Maiden away from the docks. A gentle off shore breeze aided them and the current pulled them slowly away from the docks.
Sea breezes ruffled the sails and made the rigging snap. Nellison looked up with a practiced eye and studied the few clouds drifting along in the sky. It was early in the day, but he knew that storms often came up rather suddenly. Off to the south he could see the clouds and whirling elements of the Maelstrom. They were on a course to avoid it, as usual. He trusted Raevien to keep the ship out of harms way. She had many more years of sailing then he had.

The creaking of the ship and the rocking motion as she rose and fell over the waves were soothing to him. He knew the ship well and felt confident she could weather most any storm. But he was not so naive to think the ship was impervious. They were under full sail and making good time. The upper deck was his favorite perch and he leaned against the railing and watched the sea as the ship skimmed the waves. Off to the bow a few dolphins were following the ship, leaping and playing in the wake. In the distance to the west he thought he saw a whale spout, but it was far away.

He pulled out his far scope and trained it on the distant object. He was just in time to see the whale breach the surface and rise into the air in a piroette of grace. He grinned as the huge creature gave him a brief show. He was interrupted by a slight tap on his shoulder and looked around. The first mate Raevien stood beside him and smiled.

"That is a good sign to see the whale and the dolphins bring us good luck as well. But you need to see something, Captain." her voice took on a more serious note as she pointed off to the east.

Nellison followed her pointing fingers and nearly gasped in surprise. A ship was gaining on them from the east and had the wind behind them. He trained his far scope on it and confirmed his suspicions. "That is a pirate if I am not mistaken. A fast ship and built for overtaking merchants quickly. Warn the marines and take evasive actions where we can. Beware the Maelstrom, as I know you will."

His thoughts turned to the few times thay had encountered pirates. They were scum and preyed on ships hoping for some plunder. Nellison was glad he had a company of marines on board this trip. He drummed his fingers on the railing and turned to see the crew scurrying to set the course to catch the most speed out of the prevailing winds. If they could outrun the pirates he would be happy.

Their luck held and the pirates could not catch them. Raevien came back to the top deck and grinned as she saw the pirates veer off. They had lost their edge of surprise and gave up the chase. Or they had seen who it was they pursued and thought better. "Captain, we are a bit off course, we had to in order to lose them...but I will get us back on track soon. I only fear my instincts about this area, it has been known to have sudden storms. Elune be with us...I will do my best to get us back to Stormwind."

Nellison nodded and returned her salute. "Get us to safety, Mate. It's all good." He turned to see that clouds had come up from the south again. They looked ominous and seemed to be moving fast. In a matter of an hour they had come up closer and the winds started picking up. The ship danced over the waves with a frenzy and the rigging snapped and the sails were full. He could see the fear in the eyes of some of the crew.

Looking over the few crew and some passengers on deck watching the storm come at them he called out a warning. "Tie everything down you can see. All of you who are not crew, get below, this might be a rough storm, but you are safer below." his words loud enough to be heard over the winds that seemed to be growing in intensity.
The winds were rocking the ship badly and seemed to change directions every few moments. The sails were full one moment and slack the next. The crew was busy trying to bring in more sail and keep the ship from capsizing. The one who got crows nest duty was the bravest. He was very vulnerable in the high and very small wooden platform at the top of the main mast.

As the gales whipped the ship around visibility became next to impossible. Water and rain pelted down and made the decks slippery. The cold was frightening as ice crystals started coating everything. They had not much choice than to rely on the forces of nature to die down on their own. Those who had the means prayed to Elune and the Light. A shaman on board tried to coax some of the elements to aid them.

There was a slight lull it seemed as the wind abated somewhat, but what they seen was even more frightening. A dark shape seemed to loom over the ship. There were cries of doom and fright from some of the crew. Nellison turned to look at the shape and he swallowed his fear. It did not seem to move and he thought he was seeing things...objects on this dark shape were moving, but more like it was also being buffeted by the winds.

It suddenly dawned on him that the dark shape was a land mass. He was about to call it out when the whole ship shuddered as the winds picked up again, the twisting and swirling gale suddenly had such force in it that the main mast snapped! It was with a horrible cry that the poor sailor in the crows nest was flung out into the sea.

The ship was tossed like a child's toy in a fountain. More masts cracked and they lost control of the rudder as ropes snapped with the strain. Nellison was praying with all his faith to the Light. But the gallant Jaunty Maiden was not to be saved. With an ominous sudden surge the ship suddenly hit the sailors nightmare. Rocks beneath the waves caught the ship and tore into the hull. Water started pouring in as the creak and crash of the splintering wood resounded.

Screams ond curses echoed from all on board as the ship ground to a halt on the underground rocky shelf. The winds seemed to die down a bit, but still rocked the ship as the waves continued to pound into them. It seemed they were on a shelf of some sort and the ship was stuck. Their position was precarious as the waves could drag them off of this shelf and over the deeper part of the sea at any time. For now they were not in danger of sinking.

Nellison called ot to his crew. "All hail! Look for those who might have been injured! Raevien I want a head count as soon as you can. Check on the passengers below and make sure they are safe and help them as you can. We are on a shelf as far as I can tell. Though that may change..."

He looked around and was hopeful as the clouds seemed to be drifting away and the winds died down. It was just at sunset and he could see to the west as the clouds parted to reveal the mountain and the land mass they were near. It did not look familiar to him at all. In sheer luck they had been stranded within a few clicks of a shoreline that looked promising. If they had at least one salvaged long boat they could get the crew and passengers safely to shore.

As the sky cleared and the storm passed he could see clearly that a beach was close. The land mass stretched in each direction away from them. He could see palm trees and some rocks on the shoreline. Towering above the rest of the isle was a cone shaped dome of a mountain. It had a few plumes coming from it and Nellison knew it was a volcano. There were trees and snow on it, so he knew it was not too active. At least there was a chance there would be fresh water from the snow.
The cold, chilling air of Northrend ran through Jeliana's loose, curly hair. She breathed in the salty scent of it with a soft smile, a genuine one she didn't give often. While she took joy in the pockets of money she earned and held onto, sailing was truly what called to her inside, and to be on a ship again after the time spent in Northrend would be quite rewarding. A visit to the Blue Recluse when she returned to Stormwind didn't sound bad at all, either.

When she heard a box thud to the wooden boards beneath her she snapped her head back, finding the two lackeys she had picked up and payed to carry her cargo, had dropped a box. She gave a menacing hiss. "You bastards! Watch what you're doing with MY merchandise! This sh*t was NOT cheap!!" She quickly walked over, the heels of her boots clacking against the wood. She heard their annoyed mutters once she leaned down to grab the box, cradling it carefully. Jeliana looked at them with disdain. "Remember, I'm paying you to SAFELY get my things on board." she growled. They seemed to understand well enough and headed on board.

Jeliana herself followed after them once getting a good look at the ship. She had heard it would be coming and was a bit impressed with the sight of it. It was fairly large and in good shape, with a nice sized crew on board... she felt her heart ache of jealousy. This wasn't a new feeling. She often found herself feeling like this at any nice looking ship sporting a good crew along with it.

She made sure that the box was stowed away with the rest of the cargo she'd bought and traded for, and gave the promised coin to the two young men. "There. Do be careful with it, money is not something to be handled lightly." she told them and ushered them off. As the rest of the passengers boarded the ship, Jeliana decided to give herself a small tour and to become accustomed to it, walking out on a man older than herself and Night Elf woman who were probably going to check on that young chap hiding amongst the belongings of the passengers and crew.

While the cabins were nothing impressive[and she found herself dreading to even sleep on the course and old mattresses], the interior build and quality of the ship was indeed. She felt herself wondering if the Captain ever had plans on selling it. Her thoughts were interrupted as the boat swayed a bit from the raising anchor. She smiled to herself. Setting off at last. This was truly going to be rather enjoyable.

Jeliana moved to the upper deck, tying her hair up to prevent it from blinding her of the ocean before her dark brown eyes. They began to watch the crew members and their cooperation with each other. They were definitely quite friendly and cooperative. Much nicer than the boat ride to these Northern lands. There were brutes just itching to throw a punch or two at each other. Hell, she almost got into a fight with the little Dwarven woman that called herself a cook. Jeliana's face turned into a scowl at remembering that poorly, undercooked shrimp.

Jeliana spent the majority of her time on deck, leaning on the rails or sitting in the nearest chair, relaxing and watching the occasional fish swimming along underneath them. There were even dolphins following after them at one point, which was pretty damn cute. She almost kicked one of the men on board who wanted to catch and eat them for dinner later that night.

The soothing ride soon became a rather rough one, which broke Jeliana's current thoughts and slight snooze. There was quite a bit of bustling going about the ship, and the winds were picking up. She arose from her seat and walked to the railing, gripping it and leaning over to see what the excitement was for... a ship a little ways back was following them, and the men on it didn't look too fantastic. Their clothing was dirty as hell. Jeliana frowned. She was a firm believer in stylish men and women of the seas. She didn't feel herself too worried, honestly. The crew knew what to do apparently, and the captain barking orders from above knew how to handle the situation. Not to mention, but those nasty little bugs were too far off to even dream of catching up.
Things calmed down again... for a time. Currently, storm clouds were rolling in, and the winds grew even stronger than before... while this was a normal thing whilst sailing, she felt far more threatened than she had with the pirates. Nervously, she looked about, and skulked down into the ship for safety precautions, leaving the yelling captain and the rising fear of the ship's crew.

Jeliana remained down there, entertaining herself with a book she picked up off a wandering archaeologist. It was quite interesting and listed sites she made a note to visit herself in the future. The boat wasn't rocking quite as hard as it had been when she first had entered the lower decks, but the sea was still pushing and bullying the ship, and she felt it better to stay right where she sat.

When things suddenly grew quiet, she felt a ping of nervousness inside. If a storm was suddenly rough and threatening, and calmed down, there was almost always disaster waiting just behind it's evil clutches. Jeliana sat, just waiting for the blast of wind and banshee-like cries to come again. What she wasn't expecting, was to be thrown half-way across the room, flying right into a nearby table. She couldn't help but give out a cry of pain, almost feeling her insides churn at the impact... what the hell had they hit?!

[[ So much longer than my original, wow >.<!!! ]]

Edit: [[ Ran it through a spell check and looked it over, added some things, removed some things, ect. :P Hope it's better now. ]]
Waking on the deck of the shattered ship, Liba quickly stood up and began looking for her spellbook. As she searched, she looked back on the storm and the crash. She could remember seeing a shaman who was attempting to ward the elements. She remembered her own incantations and rune-making to defend the ship against the typhoon. She remembered the terrifying sound of the mast cracking and the urgency of the situation as waves rolled over the crew and rain pelted at the boat. She remembered begging for mercy at the peak of the chaos. She remembered the raw feeling of desperation, the pure terror of that night.

Locating her spellbook she recited a word that would provide protection from the dangers of the ruined ship. She hovered around the deck looking for crew members and passengers. She approached the captain after surveying the wreckage. "We have a lot on our hands here, Cap. What are your orders? I'm ready to help get this thing back on the water anyway I can."
Sea travel had its inherent dangers, and in all appearances, The Jaunty Maiden had met every one this trip.

Brandbombe Tinkerspell, arcanist, botanist, alchemist, polymath, and all round genius, was well aware of such risks, but lack of necessity for haste made a leisurely cruise seem a quaint opportunity to relax despite the potential jeopardy. It would give her time to catch up on her reading, (that treaties on off world herbal-pharmacology, the thesis in polyphonic transmutation, that manual on the hydro-kenetic electron stimulator for her lab, and the guilty pleasure of that steamy romance novel), prepare and preserve the herbs gathered from one end of Northrend to the other at great personal risk, and not to mention just get some sound sleep after harrowing experiences in said territory, rocked in the arms of the sea.

She had boarded in casual civilian attire, but at the sighting of pirates, had quickly donned the enhanced fabrics of her supernatural craft, and attuned her mind to the esoteric frequencies that bound the structure of the cosmos to their perceived reality. A little while after that, she was clinging to her hammock for dear life, and wishing the brigands had over taken them, preferring the odds of that outcome over the odds of battling Nature’s fickle temperament.

The ship suddenly lurched hard, and so did her stomach. A slick goo of chowder, -with little difference in appearance going down as it did coming up-, plastered the larboard wall of her cabin, but it still took several long moments before her eyes stopped swimming long enough to focus on the mess, and for her stomach to recognised the over all motion of the vessel had changed significantly. With no small amount of will she unlaced her small, pudgy, white-knuckled fingers from the rope netting of her hammock, and struggled to plant a firm foot on the shifting floorboards.

One moment she was trudging up ward across her cabin, and the next, tossed face first in to the door, the next she was grasping hard to the latch to keep from falling back into the cabin, the moment following, she scrambled to get her feet back under her and fling the door open. “En-,” she gulped, “Engie arcano tech!” and an unsteady arm lashed out and pulled the energy from a localized spot, freezing the swinging door in place moments before it slammed into her.

Bracing herself between the door and the jamb, she witnessed a flurry of rushing legs whiz by through the passageway. With less than deft agility, she snatched at the knee of a latter runner, nearly tipping up the poor sailor in his haste. “What’s happening” she demanded with a raspy edge to her normally sugary squeak. “We’ve run a reef. Hull’s cracked and we’re taking on water. Get ye top side, an’ to the life boats.”

“No!” The otherwise rosy-cheeked gnome turned a pale, but determined, face up to the deckhand, and screwed her turban on tighter. “Show me! I can -hep!- help.”

The sailor marched on, and despite whether it was really his intention to lead, Brandbombe followed, or staggered in his general direction.

In the hold of the ship, things we’re already afloat, unlike the boat itself. Several men were lashing what crates had broken free in the tempest, or gathering scattered items and hazardous debris, while two other men were furiously hammering boards over the spewing cracks in the hull. The gnome slipped by two on the stairwell, one attending the other’s wounds. She poked at the attendant. “Cabin B-3,” she directed, “big green bag, hanging by the door, -or it was-; potions, first aid supplies; go fetch it.”

As the man flew up the stairs, shouted conversation between the repair crew took her attention. “She’s patched!” “Can’t be! Water’s still rising.” “Where’s it comin’ from?” “Must be in the bilge!” “Blast! It’s flooded!” “Pull the hatch; someone’s gonna to have to take a look.”

The men slogged and rooted through the floodwater a few, long minutes before they found what they were seeking and began to heave. A light roil broke the water’s surface as the hatch opened and the contained water succumbed to the pressure of the weighty ship. The flood line swiftly rose at least another foot and a half, but resumed its previous slower, but steady rise. One man went under, his feet kicking at the surface as he pulled himself through the current of seawater bleeding into the vessel, but it wasn’t long before he came up again, coughing and sputtering. “I can’t see for s.hite!”
The sailor-made-medic had returned with the mage’s magic bag, and Brandbombe was assisting him in the aid of the wounded man when the sailor popped his head out and made his declarations. “Come here!” she squawked as she dove into her carryall. She handed the diver a vile of pale sea-green liquid. “Drink!” she directed then popped the cork of one herself, and shot back the contents. “If you’ve never used a water-breathing potion before, it’ll feel like your drowning the first few seconds, but relax, and don’t stop breathing.”

She pulled a wand from the belt of her robe and slid two fingers down its length as she spoke: “Generater illuminater!” The small pink gem at its tip began to glow, filling the dire room with cheery light. Descending just a few steps put her chest deep into the water, but rather than breathe in, she emptied her lungs and dove in. Once in, her teeth and fists clenched as she grimaced through her first heavy watery breath, but was soon frogging her way through the water, the pink light and the silhouette it cast of her disappearing through the hatch.

In normal circumstances, it was a cramped space for a grown human to walk, but the diver following her pulled his way through rather than swam it. For a Gnome, however, it was a vast enough space and a quite a trial to paddle from one rib to the next through the incoming current. The wand’s small light showed several cracks along the boards, but traced a path to a much larger consideration; a sizeable portion of coral-crusted rock jutting through the hull just port of the keel. It was a poor patch to the hole, but was still currently preventing a rapid rush, yet as the ocean waves rocked the boat, and she took on more weight of rolling water, it wouldn’t be too long before the outcropping would act like a crowbar, and rip the hull wide open.

No sound escaped his mouth, but Brandbombe could read the profanities tumbling from her companion’s lips. Through impaired hand gestures the sailor motioned there was nothing to be done, and to get out. Brandbombe’s gestures insisted otherwise, but she followed him anyway.

She was coughing and sputtering the water from her lungs as the men above began to haul her from flooding compartment. “Get that hatch shut! See if ye can’t get some pitch down to seal it tight.”

“Gak! Hurk! No! Wait!” The small woman attempted to wriggle free of her rescuers. “Put me down! I’ve got a plan!” They set her on the upper steps out of the reach of the flood even as hands set to work. “No!” she bellowed with full lung capacity, “That won’t be enough! Everybody get out of the water! Get out of the water!” She trudged back down the stair and waded in. “Stay out! Things are about to get very, very cold.” And fighting over the briny burn of seawater filling her lungs once more, she plunged under, and into the hatch.
It is said that the Cryromancer is the more stable personality of the sub-schools of magecraft, that they are cautions, and long-headed in the calculations of their actions. This maybe true, but it really doesn’t make them that much less crazy than most mages. Brandbome was proceeding with caution, concentrating intensely, assessing the possibilities and variances, but still, spell casting underwater was always quite an insane thing to attempt. It's not that she hadn’t done such a thing before, but sending a bolt through an open, calm body of water was one thing, even freezing a radial area when you were able to dart away in any direction was manageable, but as she tread like mad to keep her stability in the inflowing current, wasn’t entirely secure in which way was up for the sloshing about inside the rolling ship, and was confined to limited space and direction, she would be lucky not put the whole ship in an ice block let alone not lock herself in an icy tomb in the bottom of the ship.

With a thick coat of ice, she fixed her wand on the frame of the hatch then pushed on into the dark bilge. Feeling her way along the side of the hull, -or maybe it was the bottom, or maybe the underside of the hull floor; she lost such definitions through the trip-, she eventually found her way to where the water pushed the strongest against her. The intruding rock they were moored upon was somewhere behind the current, but as she clung to the joists, the rushing water perpetually batted her hand away. A little closer, she shimmied, a little more, ‘til a pained grinding of knuckles against a crude abrasive surface told her she had at least touched her objective. More shimmying, more desperate clinging, and a twisted crab-walk over the compartment ceiling, and she had managed to perch upon the rock itself, vaguely avoiding the inflowing water by grappling to the centre most point of the coral-crusted surface.

The wand was but a small distant pinpoint of light in the mid-night black that surrounded her, but she fixed her eye on it as a navigator fixes his sextant for a pole star. There was no relaxing here, rather, a loose separation of mind and body. Toes gripped, fingers clutched, and spine tightened as she fought the flows, but brain opened to the circling water, let it touch and cool her thoughts, embraced the chill of it, and bled the heat out of it. The water moved in a frantic rush past her, but her mind became one thought, “be still”, and then, she willed that though to manifestation. In an instant, simultaneous actions occurred, her hands shot forward, her leg sprang straight, and as she shot like a short stubby missile through the water, ice radiated from her lift off point, wrapping around the rock, spreading over the walls of the hull, and curled in a jet stream behind her.

The pitching ship lurched to a shocked halt, boards groaned it stresses, and rolling water slowed to a gentle lapping, but the ice continued its crystalline growth, the water inside the bilge beginning to form an icy slush as the mage slogged her way for the hazy light of her wand. Her water-breathing potion had served her well, the ward of arcane surrounding her dampened the chill of her flesh, but she was drowning in sheer exhaustion, each strenuous pull through the thickening water freezing her limbs in fatigue.

She was too numb to notice the cold slice tearing along her back, too dizzy to remember the difference between sinking and rising, too deadened to realise she was still alive, but the pain of warm air replacing frosty water in convulsing lungs seemed a sweet sensation, and a boisterous voice filling her water logged ears made her smile.

“Whodda thunk I’d be ice fishin’ taday, mates! But I think I caught me a wee mermaid!”

A bottle pressed to her lips, and acrid, sweet rum filled her mouth; a sailor’s cure for sure, but not an unwelcome prescription, and had the acute results of smelling salts on her senses. Red-rimmed dusty-rose eyes fluttered open, and blinked through a veil of wet, limp, pink candy-floss locks as they attempted to focus on the men hovering over her. Another bottle was put to her mouth, but this one had the more familiar scarlet hue and earthy-herbal scent of one of her own health tonics. Warm hands bundled her in a warm, if damp, blanket, while one man shouted at the others, “Now, let’s get top side and see if the Captain’s got a plan to make salvage of this wreck!”

A few moments later Branbombe Tinkerspell, arcanist, botanist, alchemist, polymath, and general madwoman, was contentedly lying on the top deck happily breathing, and enjoying the light of day.

((My apologies if this seems too long, flamboyant, has insinuated too much, and/or interferes with other plans. But you know how it is when an idea strikes you, and sends you right off the deep end! Please let me know if, and where I need to make edits, and amendments.))
Mordran having a drink of mead at the bar to help his hatred of sea travel, he sat next to a human he bought a drink for after breaking his nose due to a racist joke. When he heard Captain Nellison shout "All aboard who are coming aboard! The Jaunty Maiden is about to set sail! You have one tick of the ships bells to get yourselves settled and we cast off!" he chugged the remainder of his drink, paid the barkeep, put his old, patched hat back on his head, and went to the ship.

Once he was on the ship he sat down in a chair in the corner and begun reading a book, he was unable to after the ship had set sail because the only thing on his mind was the uncomfortable movement of the ship, he muttered in Dwarvish to himself "Dwarves aren't meant to be on the sea you daft bastard."

After a while he saw the crew scrambling around saying something about pirates, Mordran grinned as he went up to the deck ready for a fight. When the pirates turned away he went back below the decks disapointed.

An hour passed and the winds picked up, Mordran groaned as the ship moved in patterns he was unable to predict. When it finally calmed down he let out a sigh of relief only to be thrown into a wall, he got up sore with nothing broken as he called his enchanted lantern to hover around his head as he decided to get a first aid kit and help anyone who was injured.

After a few minutes he heard someone below him say "Stay out! Things are about to get very, very cold." and he grinned knowing someone was going to plug the hole in the boat with ice.

Once he had tended to everyone's wounds he grabbed his spellbook ((which looks like Tome of the Dawn)) and went up to the deck and asked the captain "So what's the plan and how can I help with it?"
Northrend was not his favorite port, and Benny did not stay long when his tasks of gathering supplies was done. He was always the first back on board and ready to sail. His equipment stored in cabinets and the onboard stove bolted to the floor. The supplies were lined up in bins and lockers in the galley. The barrels of salted fish and pork were full, the bins with dried rice and beans were sealed against the rats that often snuck on the ship while in port. There was a crate of lemons to accent the various things he liked to cook. The cabbages and carrots he used for stews were secured in their bins and he was set.

The sea breezes that kept the sailors happy were favorable and he perched on the crates that were lashed to the deck. Watching the various passengers and crew bustle about he whittled on a piece of whale ivory. His little hobby had gotten him some much needed cash to send home to his sister.

The departure was ordinary and he was below deck and making sure no one invaded his space. Getting ready for the eveing meal with beans soaking in the pot over the stove with salted pork and spices flavoring it. It was simmering gently when they had warnings of the pirates and he growled to himself as the ship rocked with the storm.

He finally had to take the beans off the stove and set them aside. No way could they eat in the middle of a storm. He secured the pot and got on deck to see if he was needed. He hated storms, even though he knew the Jaunty Maiden was good to weather it.

The gales split the mainmast and Benny looked around wildly for his life jacket. He was a good swimmer but afraid of sharks. He clung to the doorway to the Galley and prayed to the Light. The sudden lurch as they hit the rocks through him into the Galley and he sprawled on the floor, sliding across until he hit the barrels. By some miracle the bean pot was still swinging from the hook and had not spilled.

The sudden stop of the forward motion of the ship had all the sailors scrambling for safety. It took a good hour for the crew to lash down slipped crates and secure the ship with an anchor fore and aft to hold it in place. The fast thinking of the gnome has stopped the leaks for now. Hopefully they could salvage some supplies.

The sun setting over the sea was a gorgeous ending to the day and Benny looked over at the Island, wondering where they had landed. Was it an uncharted isle or the tip of a known location. He could see no sign of fires or habitation.
Captain Nellison was not happy. Not only did they get way off course, they would be delayed for who knew how long in getting back to Stormwind. He watched as the crew worked at salvaging cargo and supplies. He spotted Benny coming out of the hold and waited for the cook to report.

Waves washed over the rocks and soon it became noticeable that the tide was going out. Nellison looked up to see a few clouds drifting over the moon, which was almost full. The noise of the waves hitting the rocks got stronger and soon they became more visible The moonlight shown down on them and he could see why they had hit them. High tide covered them completely and low tide made them appear as a sandy rocky shelf barely breaking the surface.

Benny came up to the Captain and halfheartedly saluted. "Well, we have a partially full kettle of beans and some barrels full of salted fish and one of salted pork that survived the wreck. Some of the cargo is intact. Though the crates are not waterproof. The furs are all right if they can be cleaned off and dried. If anyone wants to have something to eat, its all we have. Someone can do some fishing if they want something fresh."

Nellison nodded and waved over a crewmember. "If the moon is bright enough we should try and ferry as many to the island as we can. If the longboat is secured we can start as soon as you can get it loaded. I suggest the marines take and split up into a few with each load for security, I have no idea what we will find on that land. If it is an isle or a penninsula off the coast of Northern Kalimdor possibly. How many crew we have left?"

The crewman hemmed and hawed around a bit and shrugged, "We lost a couple, Capt'n. The lookout on the Crow's Nest is gone, though he fell not too long before we crashed, he might be able to swim to shore, if the sharks don't find him first."

There was a splash and a ruckus off to the side and Nellison looked over the edge of the deck. It appeared the First Mate had gone to her sea lion form and was combing the area for survivors and cargo that had sunk. She dragged a large crate behind her and some of the crew were able to get a line to it. Nellison smiled. "Good work, Mate. Any sign of the Lookout?"

She shook her head and barked in her sea lion form and dove again. Off in search of more cargo he assumed. Nellison turned back to see the crew load a few crates of supplies into the smaller boat that bobbed freely in the water next to the broken hull of the ship. It was tied with a line to keep it from drifting away.
Brain freeze? Zonked from fatigue? She couldn’t quite define her state, but one moment Brandbombe was in the light of day, mentally praising the Master Crafter’s intelligent deign of the sturdy, quick-thinking, swift-acting crewmen that pulled her from the self-made icy waters, and the next she was blinking at the moon. Somewhere in between, there was a vague notation of what she believed she registered as a Dwarf tending her bashed knuckles and the scr.apes along her back made by boat-hook that fished her from the water. The first aid she could at least verify by the bandages, the state of the ship and rescue operations she had yet to investigate.

With pained protest from every muscle from one end to the other, and loud objection from her throbbing head, she managed to waxy legs, but once up right, paused to let the blood flow, and assure her first step wouldn’t land her face first into the planks. To her relief, the green carryall was on the top deck with her, -apparently her pillow for the past few hours-, but she audibly groaned when she realised she had to stoop to pick it up, groaned again with the stooping, and groaned a third time with the rising. Several tense moments passed in silence however, as she braced herself against a stack of crates and the pounding ache of her head, worrying that her beautiful brain was either about to explode, or that it had somehow shrunk and the rattling about in her spacious skull had bruised it beyond repair, and in either case, what a sad thing it would be for the world to loose such brilliant intellect; the world seemed in such short supply.

Feeling it was safe to move again, yet minding the delicate balance of her brain, she took stock of her inventory. Her supply of bandages and healing potions had been notably reduced, but couldn’t begrudge the matter in the course of dire events, but amongst other vials of colourful liquids and powders, and other personal items, -including the secret compartment containing her intact gold -, her luck held in the form of a couple of empty waterskins, waiting, at her convenience, to be filled.

“Water, water from here to there, so I can have a drink!”

Cool clean refreshment splashed over her tongue but the sudden disturbance of the foul paste coating her tongue had her spitting into the scuppers a few times before she allowed a swallow, and the leather bag was almost emptied before she thought better of drinking too much too fast. What remained she froze and put to her head as she began to amble the disabled ship.
People hurried to and fro, but what it was accomplishing could not yet be determined. Out in the darkness, somewhere, was land, or she was pretty sure she had seen something like that before her involuntary hibernation, but how far away it was had escaped her. She currently presumed it had to be some challenging distance, or over deterring turbulence, as there seemed to be no guiding beacons on the beachhead yet, directing rescue efforts to the shore.

The ship itself was not teetering as it did before her ice-capade, but as she struggled to get a look over the portside gunwales, couldn’t tell for the mirror-black swells below if her ice mooring was the stabilizing factor. If it still held any structural integrity, it surely wouldn’t last all that much longer in these tropical waters, and in the dark there was no reference to make an accurate target for a few extra blast of frost. She already feared that the rapid expansion of water to ice inside the ship may have done additional damage, and poor aim from outside would not improve a bad situation.

Lanterns aimed down the fore end of the ship and off into the water, along with some splashing and shouts, suggested some form of rescue operation was under way, but Brandbombe knew she wasn’t going to divine the plan from remote observation and returned to midship looking for some discernable hub of activity, and thereby command. In her exploration, she came to a small knot of injured crewmen and passengers, resting their hurts and recuperating their energies. Seemingly watching over them, yet currently idle, was a Dwarf, on the young side, biding his time thumbing through a well-worn tome. The tome was, with little doubt, a forced distraction, for if Brandbombe understood anything about Dwarves, it was that they could be idle with a cosy fire, and an ale in their hand, but nothing makes a Dwarf more restless than not being part of the action right under his nose.

“Salutations!” Brandbombe chirped boisterously as she approached him then rubbed the icepack over her mess of pink locks, and continued in a more subdued tone for her own comfort. “May I postulate that this is your meticulous art?” she asked as she waved her bandaged hand at him. “You have my gratitude for your benevolent assistance. Alas, if only your bandaging could relieve the distress of my beleaguered brain; I haven’t felt this dreadful since my overindulgence at last year’s Brewfest!” She passed an eye over the activity of the crewmen before turning back to the youthful Dwarf. “I’ve been incapacitated for a questionable amount of time, and I would inquire how long have we been immobilized, and has there been any information regarding the strategy for our evacuation, and salvage of the vessel?”

((My apologies, Mordran, for having imposed an action on your character, especially if you have other actives in mind for him. I am merely looking for devices to connect with other participants, and can easily withdraw or rewrite my sequence.))
((It's fine Brand.))
Mordran was rereading his old tome about natural poisons and venoms when he heard a Gnome talk, once she was done talking he smiled and replied "Yes, I am the one who tended to your wounds, and you've been out for about an hour, they sent a small team out to the land on the longboat to make sure it's safe I offered to go but the captain said I should stay here to take care of the injured seeing as how their medic got a rather nasty head injury and isn't going to be of much use for a while." Once he was done talking Mordran remembered something and added "Oh, and that was some quick thinking down there, it should buy us a bit of time."
“I know,” the Gnome confirmed without hubris, yet was confident in her position on a statement of fact. “But it won’t hold forever; I haven’t perfected such a permanent technique without mechanical aid, or conducive environmental conditions. I had been working on a method some time ago, I thought it would revolutionize food transportation and storage, but suspended my experimentation when I realised there was little point. How was any one going to eat permanently frozen food?!?” Brandbombe lightly thumped her brow with the heel of her hand then regretted the action, and put the icepack to her forehead.

“But I digress,” she chuckled. “I’m not sure the credit of the ships temporary security is entirely mine, however. It could have been wishful thinking fuelling an adrenaline infused imagination, but,” an assessing brow dipped over her right eye, “I do believe I sensed a secondary manipulation of arcane frequencies, and postulate someone had successful exercised an incantation over the entire ship, reinforcing its structural integrity ((*)). If I am correct then someone else bought me the time to buy more time.”

Brandbombe glanced over the deck-top infirmary with concern and sympathy for injured laid out around her. “I’m not a practiced surgeon, -my techniques and experience lie more in emergency medicine-, but I have done extensive reading on physiognomy and surgical procedures, and would lend my assistance where I can if you have any cases that have you concerned, -uh-. Well, pardon my manners, sir; I’ve not made proper introductions!” The small woman rolled her ruddy eyes at her impropriety.

“Brandbombe Tinkerspell, at your service;” she lowered herself into a prim curtsy, a spill of wavey, pink stings falling over her narrow shoulders as she bowed her head to the young Dwarf, and managed to rise again without grimacing at her aching head. “Cryogenicist, herbal-pharmocologist; explorer, philosopher, and student of a multitude of subjects. And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

(( * referring to Liba’s spell))
Mordran listened to the Gnome speak and when she was done he replied "Name's Mordran Manabeard, I'm a Mage who specializes in transmutation and divination." He then lowered his head in a bow and continued. "I'm not sure who made the defensive spell that helped the ship, also your help won't be necessary I've patched them up and now I'm just here to make sure they don't get any worse."

He took a quick look at the wounded from his seat to see if anything had gone wrong, after seeing they were fine he said "Have you thought about making or having someone else make a spell or device that quickly thaws out frozen food? Also I've been thinking about a way to make a polymorph spell deadly by tweaking it a bit so that the target is turned into a sheep with a heart too weak to pump blood."
The moon was slowly coming from behind the clouds, they drifted past it as the storm moved to the east. Nellison went to his cabin, the odd angle of it made him glad everything was bolted down. He got out his navigation instruments and stepped out of the cabin door. Walking up to the top of the highest point of the deck he looked up at the stars that were beginning to show through the clouds.

Using his instruments he was able to calculate their position. What he figured out astounded him. He gazed around at the crew busily working at salvaging the ship. The head navigator came up to him and saluted the Captain. "What do you think? I did the same calculations as you did...we are hopelessly off course. That storm was unnatural, as if it pulled us in this direction and left us here."

Nellison nodded, "Yes, but I am having a hard time believing it. According to my calculations, we are somewhere north of Kalimdor. Far north, but not as far as Northrend. It seems as if this is an uncharted bit of land. I cannot find any refference to it in any of my charts. I see there is a boatload of supplies ready and room for a few passengers. I need to send a few of the bravest to shore and see what dangers may lurk there. Start asking any crew members who want to make the trip to come to me for a briefing. My thanks Grondal, you are a good man to have on the job, I am glad you survived."

The frazzled navigator nodded, "Aye Captain, I will go, I need to see what is there and I will take a few brave souls with me if they want to come. Notably a few marines. I will find out and report back to you as soon as I can, Sir." he grinned at the compliment and set off to find volunteers for the trip.

He soon had four of the ships crew and two marines who were fully armed. They were getting ready to get into the boat when he spotted the mages nearby talking. "Hey there, if either of you wishes to make a trip to shore, we have a bit of room. No guarantees on what we find on shore, but it may be a bit safer than the ship. And we can set up a camp and start ferrying things from the ship to land. We can't fit it all in one little boat, mind you, but if you wish to come, do get ready with a minimum of what you need to set up your campsite." he waited patiently while the crew settled into the small boat.
The Gnome mage’s brow sprung when the Dwarf mage introduced himself. “The leathers gave me a false perception, indeed,” she eyed him up and down. “Although the durability and protection seems an obvious advantage, I find anything other than breathable fabric a hindrance through the processes of quantum manipulations in sticky discomfort. But I suppose,” she grinned as she poke as Mordran’s leather tunic, “I’m not accounting for Dwarven tenacity compensating for distracting perspiration.”

To his claim of unawareness of the second spell caster, Brandbombe planted her fists on her hips as she scrutinized her bustling shipmates. “Well, well. If it wasn’t you, and it wasn’t me, I wonder where the author of such timely devices could be? It would seem wise for such a brain-trust to stick together. Ah well, paths will cross no doubt; we’re all in the same boat… figuratively, and literally speaking.”

“Of course,” she rebutted to Mordan’s well-meant, yet obvious suggestion to her food storage problem with a roll of her eyes, but continued with no ill feelings regarding the underestimation of her intellect. “But as you know, creating a situation of impervious permanence has its complications to begin with, in the cosmic veracity of impermanence, and the inclination of energy equity. Thus, if one were to achieve such an absolute, reverting to a state of dissolute might have cataclysmic effects. Perhaps only on a small scale, as say, a turkey exploding in your face, to the potential of ripping the planet out of the space-time continuum all together.” She nodded at him knowingly, “You can see my conundrum.”

“Hmn, defective polymorphing seems a step backward. I’m not proud of it, but I went through at almost a dozen rats before I perfected the technique of cellular rearrangement without degradation in cohesion to and from metamorphosis. Yet,” she stroke a contemplative chin with her fingers, “while seeming a bit unsporting on one hand, the deliberate alteration of specifically targeted organs certainly merits study for medicinal application, possibly by-passing invasive surgeries.”

“But the details of the subject are for another day!” she declared with a pointed finger, as if he had bated her with a scintillating temptation. “We must evaluate and derive solutions for the situation at hand.”

“Now, while your medicinal talents are obvious, Mordran, I believe both of us would be of better service than nursemaids. Perhaps as ambulances! I think a portal for our injured shipmates might be a top our priorities. We must find the Captain and see what he can spare to help us organize.”

At that moment a sailor arrived, seeking volunteers for an expedition to shore. “My!” Brandbombe blinked at the convergence of coincidences, “You’ve certainly made a timely arrival! We were just about to seek a conference with the Captain ourselves. We just need someone to keep an eye on the injure while we’re gone.” A few moments of foot tapping later, and the sailor returned with a man to take over Mordran’s position, and they were led to the man in charge.
“Captain Nellison!” she cheerily hailed, but as he turned from his current task to meet the melodic squeak, she repealed a step upon meeting the eerie glow of his eyes. She had seen him about the decks before, for a few brief moments, and from a distance, busily tending to his captainly duties, but was unaware that the man whom their lives depended upon was a dead man.

Brandbombe was the non-mechanically inclined black-sheep in a long line of engineers, but she had always found the mechanics of mage-craft far more intriguing and challenging to her intelligence than assembling bolts and cogs. She respected a clever device, but loved unravelling puzzles even more, and none were greater than discovering the inner workings of the very world and universe in which they lived. In concepts of power, she revered the self-actualised power of those who followed the Philosophy of the Light, and found a harmony with the principles they preached, but considered her own power and enlightenment no less divine. She appreciated the communal connection to the spirits of nature and the elements practiced by Druidic and Shamanistic cultures and the wisdom in co-existence they encouraged, and she didn’t devalue or underestimate the dedication and effort applied to physical martial arts. But demonic magic was dirty magic, cheap, and mostly to the inclination of the weak of mind and will, and the abuses of necromancy was the lowest of the low, because the dead were defenceless.

The Death Knight was both victim and perpetrator of these gauche and vile magics, and as she came face to face with Jeremy Nellison, she couldn’t help but meet him with a mixture of pity and revulsion. Associations with the class had been limited by her preference for independent travel and a logical unease with their existence, but she recognised she would have to suppress her cautious prejudice if she were to offer her aid in immediate danger, and prevent more obvious and impending disaster.

She girded herself with a deep breath, and reclaimed the step she surrendered. “I am Brandbombe Tinkerspell, a mage of no small skill,” she publicized the valuable resource at his disposal, but the informative tone still held an edge of warning for a potential adversary. “And may I introduce my colleague, Modran Manabeard, also a practitioner of the magic arts.”

“I’m sure there are a number of things we can assist with, but I would suggest the immediate evacuation of the injured, passengers, and any non-essential personnel you would release from your recovery effort. I can quite readily form a portal, but I would require assistance in organizing people for transport. If you have determined our location, I will choose the nearest city, and we can dispatch a request for timely support and salvage. And I would add, it’s a one way trip, thus any crew you lend me to see the injured through will not be coming back the same way.”

She turned to her new companion, and with question arch to her brow. “Your services would be a benefit to the evacuation of the injured Mordran, and if portals are among your skill set, a second would expedite things even further. However, I could also see mage being a handy asset on the expedition to shore, if simply for a bit of pyromancing, when they get there. What say you?”

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