Captain John expresses his regret that he cannot promise to stay on deck for sixteen hours straight, as his duties might call him away. However, First Mate James volunteers to do so, and the captain grants him permission to stay on deck for those sixteen hours assuming there is no emergency. Pilot Commander Stanis and Chief Navigator Donald both say that their duties would prevent them from making such a commitment, but Doc Evans says assuming that there are no casualties in that time his department can manage without him for sixteen hours--and he wants to keep an eye on whatever it is you're doing, anyway. Security Chief Balcon says he can manage to assign himself to watch during that time, and if staying on deck can be interrupted by a trip to the head and he can have food brought to him, he sees no reason why he could not accommodate you for this. Chief of Deck Roman says no, and won't discuss it further. That gives you yourself plus three officers. You ask the security men. Brown, second in the force, says no, he will have to sleep so he can be up when Balcon sleeps. Davis and Christian also decline, but Abbas says he'll do it--he can arrange to be on deck during his shift. That gives you, including yourself, five armed men on deck.
You do the magic, but there is no way that you can tell whether or not it worked; it is inherent in the spell that it is not completed until the final part is cast at need. Thus it has not worked yet, and there is no way for you to know whether or not it will work until you complete it.
--M. J. Young
With that done, I will thank the gods for their attendance, thank my volunteers for their help, and pay out my bribes. Since the Holy Ground will linger until a finished spell discharges it (and it will store my in-progress spell either way), I'll leave it active for now. It hurts nothing to have it turned on, and I feel better that way, so there it is.
Of course, it's been 32 hours, so I will bow out for an hour, refresh my Remove Fatigue, and then return to the deck. If the Captain or anyone else wishes, I'll do a Remove Fatigue for them, too, and include myself in that spell instead of doing a separate one (remembering to sacrifice an emerald to pay the gods for my own inclusion in the spell this time - don't think I didn't feel the pinch of that last time!). After that, it's probably time for me to do another turn at the wheel, so I'll check my weapons and go back up on deck and relieve whoever is on.
If, in fact, it's not my turn, I will retire to my quarters and catalog all the battle songs and poems I can remember, so that when the time comes to support my men in battle I won't be caught at a loss for words.
Off the top of my head, song and poems I know in their entirety that have to do with battle:
Warriors of the World United - ManOWar
Distant Drums - The Crimson Pirates
From Bow to Stern - The Crimson Pirates
Barrett's Privateers - Stan Rogers' arrangement
Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye - traditional
Abdul Abulbul Amir - traditional
One-Winged Angel (in Latin) - (no idea who to credit this to)
Battle Hymn of the Republic - traditional
Henry Martin - traditional
I take the emeralds to be added for bringing extra people in the spell; the single version does not include these, and the multiple version does not require them for the first person, but only for each additional person. The gem will not be destroyed, unless you are teaching yourself yet another version of a skill that already works well.
Also, you were going to bribe the deck hands, but you wound up not needing a deck hand.
The captain thanks you, but says there is something to a good night's sleep he would rather not miss, and if he is going to be awake he'll have no excuse not to be working, so he might as well get the rest.
But it is your turn at the wheel, since you are one of three pilots (the captain and the first mate are both qualified, but they only fill in for brief spells while the man at the wheel uses the head or gets a meal). You planned your sixteen hour stretch to go from the end of one shift to the beginning of the next.
After that, you retire to your quarters to perform your ritual. You're a few hours ahead of schedule, but it's been a longer day than usual in terms of what you've accomplished.
However, when you are about half an hour into it, you are interrupted by Davis from security.
"Sorry to interrupt. I was sent to ensure your safety. As long as you're awake, you should probably come with me to the captain's quarters."
--M. J. Young
That's fine. I'm a bit wearier than I'm used to being, all things considered, but I'll rise, dress, and follow him. Dressed for me includes sword and pistol at my belt. On the way I'll ask him what this is about.
"I'm not sure whether--well, I guess I know enough. It seems that there's a bit of a--a commotion. Some of the crew are--are upset that you were doing some sort of voodoo or something aboard the ship. Anyway, they're on strike, and they want you to undo whatever it is you did. The captain thought you might be in danger, and wanted you protected."
--M. J. Young
"Hmm..."
I'll follow him to the Captain's quarters and see what the Captain himself has to say about all of this. It's weird that the crew should bother with this now. Half of them were here when I arrived and have known that I'm not entirely normal all the while, and been fine with it. Now I do something to help them, and everyone is up in arms. Seems Stan Lee was right about trying to help people. Ah, well... Maybe the Captain has a more rational take on things, having experienced my magic himself and seen that it is harmless.
A tired looking Christian, the security officer who agreed to stay on deck during your ritual, is waiting there. He speaks to Davis.
"Brown wants you to get Abbas and meet him on deck. I'm to stand guard here."
The captain is not in the office.
Abbas takes one of the comfortable seats in this cabin. "Make yourself comfortable," he says as Davis leaves. "I expect the Captain will have this sorted out one way or another in time."
--M. J. Young
And so it is. I settle in to wait.
You're there maybe half an hour when the Captain walks in.
"Ah, Mr. John. Apparently we have a problem. Your little--whatever you call it--has created a bit of upset in the crew--mostly the deck hands, but they've got sympathy in some of the other departments as well. It seems that no one believes in magic, but somehow they think that if you do it might be dangerous or something.
"I've been talking to them for most of an hour, and making no headway on this. Any suggestions?"
--M. J. Young
"It depends on your outlook, Captain. You've felt the experience of my magic. You know it's not terribly powerful, and quite harmless. The spell I laid on the deck is for the benefit of this ship and her defenders.
If you feel they're justified, I can simply tell them I've removed the spell. It's close enough to true - a spell I never invoke may as well not be there at all. Honestly, I am not certain how I would go about dismissing the spell either way, so it's the best they'll get.
If you feel they're not - which I hope is true, as I would never do anything to harm this crew - then it becomes a bit more complicated. We would have to convince them to agree with us. A demonstration such as the one I gave you would be... inelegant, costly. I could develop another spell, a different one, to demonstrate to them both the power and the harmlessness of the gifts of my gods. In fact I know the exact spell I would use.
Converting the crew may, theoretically, be easier than placating them if they are already this upset - turn their fear OF me into a fear FOR me by proving my value to them.
Still, you are the captain, and the ultimate decision is yours. Left to me, I would continue my demonstrations until all the crew believed, at least as far as you do."
"Well, John, it would be overstating things to say that I 'believe', at least in the sense I think you mean. I see no harm in what you're doing, and think it has some benefits. Whether there really is such a thing as magic in the world or whether it's entirely psychological is more than I can even guess.
"On the other hand, there are people on this ship who are, apparently, afraid of magic. Can't really blame them for that. After all, the ancient stories all suggest that magic is something dark and dangerous. Most people take those stories as fantasies, tales devised by our ancestors to help them explain the things they fear, personifying them and so making them the more dangerous but on some level more rational. We escape the fear by making thunder and storms and earthquakes natural events rather than supernatural ones. But if magic were real, then the stories might be true; and if the stories were true, then there would be terrifying powers somewhere 'out there' that expected us to acknowledge and serve them instead of ourselves--and, if the tales are true, who are very jealous of anyone using their powers. That becomes the sticking point, really. If what you are doing actually works, it means that you're stealing power from someone very powerful who is not going to like that, and who can easily take vengeance on us by means of storms, whirlpools, and other disasters.
"All of that also means that we might get them settled now if we tell them that what you did is meaningless, but come the first storm someone is going to start blaming you for our bad luck. It's quite a tricky question. If we tell them it works, they blame you for bringing on us the wrath of whatever it is that hits us; if we tell them it doesn't work, then when something hits us they think we lied to them. However, somehow I think that getting them to believe in magic is probably not going to help. The problem is not really that they don't believe, but that what they think they're being asked to believe is not terribly encouraging."
--M. J. Young
"Then we have to get them to believe something that is encouraging. We tell them that magic is neither easy nor particularly powerful. Most people simply cannot learn it at all, " I don't know if this is literally true or not but it would be comforting, "and for those people who can learn it, it is not terribly powerful.
What I am asking you - them - to believe is not that I can change the weather to my will or yours. It is not that I can summon storms, nor banish them, nor turn rocks into gold, nor anything like that. I can keep you awake for a while. I can make you fight like three men. I can keep your food fresh for months at a time. These are hardly abilities to be feared, and they are - at least so far - the length and breadth of the magic I am capable of, along with the consecration rituals that make them possible.
The ancient legends are exactly that. Legends. In the same way that a fish gets bigger with each person who hears - or retells - the story of its catching, so too does a spell get bigger the farther one gets from the caster. A spell which created a cool breeze on a hot day, cast by a mage who was surprised it worked at all, becomes a typhoon that could level a fleet, cast by an archwizard who took such things for commonplace. Such things simply do not happen in this world. Even I who have cast the spells they so fear know that even so minor spells as those are both taxing and limited. There is nothing to fear from them."
"So, you're suggesting that we get the men to accept that magic really does work, but that the stories they've heard are exaggerated. Of course, that won't work with Doc Evans. He is persuaded that it's all psychological, that you achieve your results by manipulating people's emotions. But maybe the others...You'll have to talk to them. They're on deck, but we can have them move to the galley, if you'd like to address them there?"
--M. J. Young
"I can do that, if you think they would listen. I might feel a bit better speaking to them on deck. The fresh air and their choice of scenery might set them at ease. Also, I've consecrated the deck, so I myself feel more at ease there. If you think you can get me safely to the aftcastle, I'll speak from there.
And I think I can sway Doc Evans, too. I've met his sort before. Include him in the briefing, if he'll listen, but ask that he keep his peace until I've said mine. I have an argument that usually convinces - or at least silences - the 'it's all in your head' sort."
And with that I'll bow out of the way, if the captain wishes to go to the galley, or move the crew, or have me moved under escort, or whatever he wishes.
"All right," he says. "We have to get on the main deck to get to the ladders to the aftcastle, but if we're quick we can make it. Let's go."
He leads to the main deck, Davis behind you, and sends you up the ladder first. The deck hands crowd toward you, but Davis and the Captain each draw their swords.
"Let the man speak," he says. "At least hear him out. You--Grasso--go tell Doc Evan he's wanted on deck. Now. We'll wait.
"And we'll wait patiently, gentlemen. Our law does not condemn a man without giving him the opportunity to speak."
Something--a scrub brush--slams into the wall next to you and falls to the deck.
"Who threw that?" the captain demands, but gets no answer.
In a few minutes Grasso returns with Doc Evan.
--M. J. Young
I'll put on my best combination of "professional public speaker" and "RenFair actor projecting to the crowd" voices. I can carry a decent distance, and a ship is not so large a space, and I will speak slowly.
"I have heard that there are some among you who are afraid, who are angry. You fear that I will bring ruin upon this ship. That my practice of magic and rituals harkens back to the old legends. Storms summoned out of the ether, one mage hurling the forces of nature against another in a display of wills that leave only corpses in their wake.
Let me assure you, you who are my friends, who have worked and trained and fought beside me, nothing could be farther from the truth. I have heard such stories as well, and it is my experience that stories are all they are. Consider the story you tell, one man to his brother, of the fish caught on a summer afternoon. When your brother tells your cousin, the fish is a little bigger. When your cousin tells your uncle, it is a little bigger still, until finally your grandfather's neighbor three towns away thinks you wrestled a fish thrice the size of a man with nothing but your ale-mug to strike with.
And so it is with magic. I assure you, magic is a real force. It is also a rare force. I am gifted by the gods to be able to use it, and I am grateful every day for that gift. Those with the will to learn can learn. But the spells you have heard of in these centuries old legends - fish whose tale is older than your grandfather's grandfather - are as overblown as that shark you did not quite catch last summer.
I who have done the work you all worry about can tell you plainly, the spells I have used are both minor and draining. I can keep a handful of men awake for a few days at a time. I can keep any amount of food fresh for months on end, as I did when we sailed into Emerald. The spell I laid upon this very deck - the one that so incensed you good fellows - is one for your benefit and protection. All it does is make you a bit quicker to attack, and a bit slipperier when attacked, if you leave yourselves open to its gift. And you did see that it took me two days to put it there. This is hardly a storm conjured from nowhere on a moment's notice. The things I am capable of are nothing to fear. They are small. Complicated. And ultimately, benevolent.
Now, there are also those among you who think I am a charlatan. That none of this is real at all, and that is all superstition and psychology, all in your heads, as it were. I believe otherwise, but some disagree.
To this set, I say simply, does it matter? If I believe it is a gift from the gods, and you believe that what I am doing comes from no farther away than my own lips, does it make a difference to you? Those handful of you who felt my vitality spell did stay awake, and felt no fatigue. Those of you who have eaten from the ship's store have commented that the food did taste like the first day out of port, though it has been weeks. If these things be all in your heads, then on the one hand, am I not doing you a favor to put them there, making your days more tolerable and your food more palatable, and on the other hand, is this truly anything to fear? After all, if I attempt to convince you of something you would never believe, it would simply not work. You would not believe me, and you would not be influenced in the slightest. In which case your food would be bland, but no more bland because I spoke over it, and your bodies tired, but no more tired because you did sit in a circle with me for an hour's time.
So, my good friends - for friends you are, one and all - I ask that you bear me no ill will. The things I have done, I have done for your sake, that you should strike more swiftly in defense of ship and home, that you should eat the very freshest foods in all the land, and want for nothing while we do travel together. It is even within my power - and available to any who ask - to wipe the stress and pain from your bodies, and give you back hours that would be spent sleeping, hours that you can own fully, as I do. And all I ask is your trust and acceptance, or, if you cannot accept me, at least show me your indifference.
There is no need for fighting and violence between us! We who have fought side by side to take a living from the sea. We who have drawn steel and shed blood together. We who feasted upon the carcass of the pirate ship that did try to take us last year, and who will feast again when our long tour be done.
What say you, then, my brothers? Will you stand again at my side? Shall we return to work and the loyal service of our good and honest captain? And when again we reach port, for one and all, the drinks will be on me."
One of the deck hands responds. "You make little of your abilities, but you admit that they come from the gods. I would ask, which gods? Now, I don't know much for gods, but I do know that in the stories they are always at war with each other. So, what if the gods who are against the gods who gave you this magic decide that you're to be a target, attacked as an ally of the enemy? And what happens when we get caught in the crossfire?"
Doc Evan leaves the deck.
--M. J. Young
"The gods I call upon are both benevolent and strong. They do have enemies, but I have neither met nor heard of anyone who served their enemies, willingly or otherwise. They do not offer power, and they do not inspire followers.
The Jotun - for that is what they are called - give nothing. They're base and brutish, and though they war constantly with the gods, it is always direct. Mortals are not part of their conflict, and attacking us - any of us - would not serve them, so they do not do it. It simply is not the way of them, nor of my gods. If you are willing to listen, I can tell the whole tale, but I would rather tell it over dinner than swords."
Your heckler responds.
"So you say, but how do we know you're telling the truth? You have every reason to want us to believe that there's no danger here, so maybe you would tell us there's no danger just to get your way. And besides, how do you know that the enemies of your gods won't attack you? How are we supposed to know whether your gods lied to you? What if your gods are afraid of their jotund* enemies, and want to get you, and as many other people as they can, between them and themselves? I don't like it, one bit. You're playing with something worse than fire, and if the ship goes down, we go with it."
There is a supportive murmur through the crowd.
* The spelling error is intentional, to express the character. No offense is intended here.
--M. J. Young
"What reason do I have to lie to you that way? You're accusing me of goading the lot of you into danger, for what? My own profit? The glory of gods who don't value human sacrifice? If I were to lead you into danger, the entire ship like you say," at this point I stomp on the deck under my feet, "We're all in the same boat, friend, literally and figuratively. And if you were right, wouldn't that mean I was the one most in danger? I have every reason to be terrified if you're right. But you're not. I'm telling you, the wars my gods face have nothing to do with us. In all history it has never been done. Never. Not once.
My gods fear nothing, and they offer that courage to those who follow them. Theirs is the way of strength, of courage, of valor and duty. Even if they were afraid of the Jotun - which they have little reason to be - that would not stop them from fighting, nor stop them from protecting us who put our faith in them.
And, if you were right, what would protect all mortals from the Jotun? Could they not just kill us all on a whim? You make them seem the sort to do that. But they're not. They have no quarrel with us. The power I tap is insignificant on that scale. Do you think Utgardt cares that I keep your food fresh? When I hurl a lightning bolt at his thrice-dented skull, then he'll care. Till then, he, you, and I have nothing to worry about."
"Gentlemen," the captain says. "Mr. John has made his point. If there's nothing to this magic of his, then nothing he has done will harm you. If there's something to it, then he's the expert here, and if he says it's safe he's probably right. I think it's time you all returned to duty and left Mr. John alone. I realize that you've been upset about something you don't understand--and I don't understand it myself, honestly--but there are many things in our seafaring lives we don't understand, and this hardly seems to be one to worry over.
"I won't bring charges if you all return to work now. It's been distressing, but I think we can accept Mr. John's assurances here."
There is some grumbling, but the mob dissolves.
"Sorry that happened," the captain says to you. "People are often uncomfortable with what they don't understand, and I don't know that we've heard the last of it, but hopefully the worst is over. You'd better get your rest."
--M. J. Young
"It's alright, Captain. People don't understand what I do any better back home, either. I'm used to it.
It's my belief that better understanding is the best way to relieve fears, but its the work of years, not hours. Thank you for your support."
I'll go below and do my personal Remove Fatigue ritual. If I don't have work for a while, I'll practice something else until then. I've probably been neglecting my flute practice lately, so I'll play through a few songs on it to get sharpened up.
There is still lingering discomfort. Your security friends are still good, and there's no problem in your department, but the deck hands always seem a bit nervous around you.
On the other hand, things are quiet for a few weeks, and the routine reestablishes itself.
--M. J. Young
In that case, I will focus on maintaining the friends I have. Instead of performing in the galley, I'll spend a double portion of my down-time sparring with the security guys for now, and to maintain things in my department, I'll try to make sure that my shifts always come up at night, or during other undesirable shifts (especially at night b/c with my Night Vision it's not as bad for me).
Shortly after you go off duty one morning, one of the navigators calls from the crow's nest.
"Ship off the starboard bow, she's flying distress colors."
--M. J. Young
I peer over there and hit my Telescopic Vision, trying to get some details of the ship. What /kind/ of distress? Is there a fire aboard? Do they appear cannon-damaged? Is the crew running around on the deck fixing things, or bailing water through holes, or something?
More specifically, I want to make absolutely certain this isn't a trap.
Your telescopic vision does not click in; however, the man in the crows nest is using a telescope, and your head pilot, currently officer on watch, also pulls out a scope.
"Tattered sails," he says. "They look like they've been through a storm and lost their linens. All right, alert the captain--John, you can handle that, he's probably in his office. I'm going to bring us in closer, slowly.
--M. J. Young
"Agreed."
And so, I go to see the Captain. Seems I'll have to resume carrying a telescope. FIrst time in a while that's failed. Curious. Ah, well.
"Thank you, Mr. John. These distress call situations are difficult--they're about as likely to be pirate traps as they are to be genuine distress calls, but no captain would fail to respond to a genuine distress call, particularly in a place like the Greater Syndic, because even if we have never been in distress ourselves, we know that we might be, and we would need the good will of other ships to keep us and our crews alive. So let's take a look at this vessel."
He is already heading toward the forecastle with telescope in hand. On reaching this vantage, he raises the scope and scans the horizon until he stops, looking at a distant ship.
"She looks damaged, certainly, but not all that badly. I gather we're moving in for a better look? What do you make of her?"
--M. J. Young
I take a look. She did look damaged when last I looked, but, eh. I'll try my telescopic vision, and if it still doesn't kick in, I'll borrow the captain's 'scope and have a closer look.
"Doesn't have to be a lot of damage, if its in the right place. Her sails are a mess.
If it were up to me, I would say bring us in, but across her stern, crossing-the-T. That way if it is a trap we don't leave ourselves broadsides, and if it's not a trap we can pull up along side to help out."
You don't get it with your telescopic vision, but the telescope brings it in clearly enough. The sails are definitely ripped such that they would not be much if any use in the wind, so the ship appears becalmed. It looks like a small fast ship, but its crew is sitting on the deck not doing anything.
"That sounds promising. Mister Rob, let's pass behind her about a hundred feet and get a good look. Mr. Balcon, man and load portside guns. If it's a trap, I want to be ready."
The crew start acting accordingly.
Mr. Stim, keep a watch eye on that ship, and let me know if you see anything out of place.
--M. J. Young
I'll continue alternating between trying my Telescopic Vision - once a minute till we get there - and using the actual telescope in between. Either way, I thumb the grip of my sword somewhat nervously, not exactly eager to have to use it this time. I'd like to be wrong...
On your next attempt at telescopic vision, it comes into focus, and you have a reasonably clear view of the deck.
The men are armed, sitting on the deck. This is not that unusual--even your deck hands are armed when you are attacked by pirates, and a derelict ship is a prime target for piracy. If they are what they appear, they have every reason to worry about who you are. There are boarding pikes, cannon, flintlocks, bows and arrows, and similar gear, just as there are on your deck.
The Piper is closing the gap.
--M. J. Young
If we have more than a minute to go, I close my eyes and focus on the men on the other ship. I want to try to mind-read them, but not any specific purpose. More... Betazoid style empathy? (Hence I'll claim as my example of this Dr. Deanna Troi.) Are they defensive? Are they afraid? Avaricious? I want to psionically discern their general mood. I want to know if we're sailing into a trap.
If we have less than a minute to go, I grit my teeth and prepare for whatever is coming.
You reach out with your feelings and find someone over there. Whoever he is, he has an avaricious anticipation. You're heading into a trap.
--M. J. Young
I grab the Captain's arm.
"Pull the ship back."
I open my eyes and look at him, looking dead serious. "It's a trap. They're baiting us. It's a pirate ship. Get us the Hell out of here."
"You're certain?" The captain can see the earnestness in your eyes.
"Alter course to port. Load starboard side guns. All hands to battle stations, full sail, and let's get out of here.
"Now, can I ask how you are so certain?"
--M. J. Young
"If you'll indulge me, Captain, I'll tell you the whole story later." I nod to the other men readying battle-stations. I don't want to cause another riot, and I don't want to distract the men from a coming fight.
In the mean time, I'm going to keep an eye on that pirate ship. If I see anyone heading for their wheel, I want to TK Pulse him, try to shove him backwards away from the wheel.
Your pirates do no such thing. There is a wave of disappointment as you sail the other direction, and a splash of anger, as they apparently have no idea how you spotted their ruse.
In any case, you have enough distance yet that they would not be likely to catch you easily even if they were to follow, and their ruse has probably made it more difficult to get the kind of speed they would need before you widened that gap significantly. You sail away without having to fire a shot.
The captain returns to his cabin.
--M. J. Young
Once things settle down, and my shift is well and truly over - I believe I was on my way below when this began? - I will follow the Captain and knock on his door.
If he lets me in, I explain:
"I promised you a description, and you know I'm a man of my word. What I did was akin to everything else I've done. This one didn't involve lengthy rituals or calling on the gods, because it didn't involve the gods, it's just something I was able to do, on my own. I could tell what they were feeling, and the feeling I got from them was excitement and greed, the rage of men itching for a fight. That was how I knew we were sailing into a trap. I didn't want to explain all this on deck, because I don't want a repeat of earlier, but I trust you and your continued patience and understanding, especially when my abilities - strange may they be - prove useful to you and this ship."