The dwarf carefully packed his belongings and went over his intended route one more time. Plans are very important to Baylan Anvilhammer.
Gram wrote:“A solid plan should very well be at the center of everything you do, young one. Planning is of paramount importance to action!â€
His father had always preached such things and the younger dwarf lived by this motto accordingly. With one hand, the dwarf continued to stuff his few belongings into his large oaken trunk. With the other, he held tightly the small bit of parchment on which his precious plans were penned in small, precise dwarven runes. Each heading had under it specific notes and names relating to its parent topic. The headings were as follows:
• Travel to Mach Mellin
• Seek out the captain of the Drocker
• Work aboard the ship and travel to Dort and ultimately Réalt.
The topics went on. Many sections had been crossed out, having been satisfied or otherwise made redundant.
Baylan gathered the packed possessions and loaded them on to his father’s cart along with the large shipment of nails that was also destined to be stowed in the belly of the Drocker. As the dwarf understood it, the ship was on its way to Dort to attempt to bolster the inter-island trade fleet. It had come to Mach Mellin to take on finished metal goods which can be purchased at a relatively rock-bottom price in the region when compared the island prices. The ship's primary purpose would be to replace the ship which had previously serviced the route between Dort and the nation of Sierra. Recent events had elevated regional interest in the island to great heights. With the transplantation of the University of Magick and the subsequent surge of jungle exploration and homesteading, more supplies and travelers were flowing into the small town of Réalt. The Drocker was newer, faster, and larger than the current galleys contesting the sharp rocks and deceptive coastline of the exotic island. She was a much-needed upgrade for the region’s trade industry. And a perfect opportunity for a portal-shy dwarf like Baylan.
The trip to Mach Mellin went by slowly yet well enough; the borrowed mule gave Baylan only minor problems along the route. The dwarf took a direct line to the wharf in search of the Drocker upon reaching the town.
A shipping fee for stowing this lot of nails and a promise of hard work and dedication during the passage should surely grant me a stay on board the vessel, Baylan thought to himself while searching the many masts along the docks for the rare appearance of Dortenese colors flapping in the wind.
“Just as long as the captain ain’t one of those dwarf-hatin’ adhiel stuck-up types, at least,†Bay grumbled in frustration- not yet finding his ride east.
There is was. The narrow-hulled vessel looked more like a privateer’s interceptor than a fleet work horse. Sharp angles and a short stern section gave an impression of great mobility. Tied to the pier as it was, the two main sails were folded and a teeming ant-like mass of sailors and dock workers scrambled this way and that; inspecting the masts and scrubbing down the salty decks. Baylan had never seen such a ship. He’d hardly ever seen any ship that wasn’t a fat, over-laden ferry… reluctantly dragging loads of ore off to the Mouth.
Striking his deal with the (non-adhiel, non-dwarf hating) captain was not a difficult task. The ship had left Dort earlier than expected in order to get the jump on some incoming weather. In doing so, they had been forced to leave some crew behind. The short-handed able seamen were quick to accept Baylan into their little group. The men enjoyed pleasant weather over the course of the long crossing. It took many days, but the dwarf was not sure exactly how many. To his poor sea-sick stomach and his sweat-covered brow, it felt like weeks. He toiled daily; scrubbing this part of the deck, trying that knot, lifting those barrels. It was not work that he found engaging. A deal is a deal, however.
Worn out is a much better way to be… A much better way than bein’ gobbled up by the fishes, he’d had to tell himself on many occasions.
Upon reaching Dort and dropping off the majority of the metal goods from the mountains, the Drocker was loaded with a varied store of sundry supplies. Preserved foodstuffs, clothing, tools, and a strange assortment of passengers all found themselves aboard the Sierra-bound clipper.
*****
Less than a week later, the ship was cautiously making its way through a thick, soupy morning fog while nimbly dodging the fingers of rock that seemed to want to reach up and grope holes straight through the thin wooden hull when a bellowing voice blasted out from the bow.
Boatswain wrote:The navigator has announced ‘land ho.’ Deck hands to your stations. Prepare the ship for tight maneuvers and ensure that we are staged to enter port. Welcome to Sierra, gentlemen.
A short but enthusiastic cheer bubbled up from the depths of the boat. This was the first of many times the Drocker would pull herself into Réalt. Baylan dropped his mop and tried his hardest to squint though the mushy fog. The sun had barely begun to contest the reign of the vast horizon and visibility was extremely low.
All that he could clearly see ahead of him was a slightly darker area to the bow that extended off to port. The experienced sailors had returned to their duties, knowing that they would have a good view of the island nation before too long. Baylan, however, was eager to get a glimpse of the land mass as soon as he possibly could.
Father… you have willed me here to this wild, untamed place. I have faithfully made my long voyage. I will embark into the jungle in just as pious a manner. I beg of you, let me go with your guidance. Steel me with the strength of your Crimson Blade and grant me the experience which I seek. I do all things in Your honor, my peoples’ honor, and my own, the dwarf silently prayed in earnest.