Alrec has joined the Bullsharks a Pravus ship.

Tris has joined the Bullsharks a Pravus ship.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Sorrel before departing.

Sebastian has joined the Bullsharks a Pravus ship.

Aethan has joined the A Stormward Fleet ship.

Viviana has joined the Bullsharks a Pravus ship.

Ian has joined the A Stormward Fleet ship.

Alrec stands at the pier of Arx getting everyone in and situated inside the Pravus longboat. He stands at the end of the slip, greeting his guests one by one.

Wash has joined the A Stormward Fleet ship.

Lucrezia has joined the Bullsharks a Pravus ship.

2 Rivenshari Clansman, Timbo, agile and cheeky rivenshari youth arrive, following Eshra.

Eshra drops Hawsbill, a Navegant longship.

2 Rivenshari Clansman, Timbo, agile and cheeky rivenshari youth leave, following Eshra.

Victus has joined the Hawsbill, a Navegant longship.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Sebastian before departing.

Arianna has joined the Bullsharks a Pravus ship.

Oh, it's a loverly day for a boat race, isn't it, folks?

Out beyond the mouth of the bay (and sitting at a respectful and non-threatening distance from the imposing Cardian imperator), there are many ships. A fleet even, or some portion of it, dozens of longships, several galleys and a large drommond all bearing a white flag with a red... dogfish? Well, something anyway. They are vessels of the Isles Canines. It's a large number of ships just for a race, but the sellsail company has promised a bit of a spectacle, with mock combats and other challenges along the route to Setarco. If they happen to have other business in the south, that's just a happy coincidence.

On the docks, many smaller vessels are handling their final preparations before they depart. Each of these flies their own flag, representing the Houses which have entered teams into the race. Dockhands scurry about, making ready, while a few surly looking sailors who look the opposite of flashy event coordinators shout warnings: "Make ready to depart, the race begins soon!"

Far out in the bay, a woman has a divan set up on the deck of the drommond, lounging as she watches from a distance, with a drink in hand.

Alarissa has joined the Hawsbill, a Navegant longship.

Alrec makes the call to free the longship from the dock, setting it to leave the harbor and begin the race.

Juliana will be joining the Isles of Canines ships in due time, right now the woman with her little file of Pravus and Eurusi guards makes her way from ship to ship to take down the offical names and to collect the entrance fee for the race. After all, can't win a fleet if you do not put up a ship.

Ian has been on the Stormward longship for a while, talking with some of the hand picked crew and fussing with the weight distribution on the ship. As it comes time to depart, he hangs onto the mast, watching and feeling the way the ship bobs in the water, listening to the sound of creaking wood and singing lines.

Turo drops Leatherback, a Navegant longship.

Galen has joined the Leatherback, a Navegant longship.

Alarissa has left the Hawsbill, a Navegant longship.

Victus has left the Hawsbill, a Navegant longship.

Victus has joined the Leatherback, a Navegant longship.

Alarissa has joined the Leatherback, a Navegant longship.

Turo has joined the Leatherback, a Navegant longship.

To all appearances, Lord Sebastian Pravus appears to be mostly staying out of the way of others, occasionally reaching in and sipping rum from a flask tucked under his jacket. Good thing he's not one of the primary crew on this leg of the race -- it lets him set a wide, easy stance on the deck as he watches.

Wash sets the pace, leaving the captaincy of the Kennex vessel to Aethan. He handles the crew, first and foremost a people person.

Galen has left the Leatherback, a Navegant longship.

Galen has joined the Leatherback, a Navegant longship.

Aethan is on the Stormward ship as well, as one would expect, all things considered. Or really only one thing considered, but it's the most important thing. In any case, he is there, doing various captains things as they all wait for the race to begin.

Sorrel has joined the Leatherback, a Navegant longship.

Like her cousin, Lady Arianna Pravus seems to be well out of the way so the crew can do it's thing. She's certainly not dressed like crew with that gown on, looking more like she's here for a pleasure cruise. Those with gifted eyesight can probably see the glass of wine in her hand and the easy smile on her face as she chats with Tris.


The Sword of Setarco can be seen making her way to and fro along the deck of the Bullsharks, standing out a bit thanks to the bright red silk of Viviana's blouse and the black leather that accompanies it. The woman can be seen engaging in conversation with Alrec briefly, and some of the guests on board, before she turns to do her part in making certain the longship is ready to leave the docks.

The Bullsharks of Pravus secure its hold and begins to drift away from the dock. Alrec Magaldi moves to take the helm and steer the vessel to the starting line. Savoring the weather, the motion is slow and aboard the longship, one could mistake it for a noble's yacht. Still, the Admiral had assumed command of the ship and its crew began to move with discipline.

"Once you clear the docks, assemble yer ships at the line-" shouts a rough-edged and surly-looking sailor who is definitely not trained as a herald or race-caller. "Er, well, at the point there between the two ships, y'see? There ain't no actual line so just use yer imaginations!"

The colorful sailor refers to what is indeed an imaginary starting line delineated across the opening of the bay by the presence of two anchored mercenary longships. Festooned with plenty of gaudy red and white flags and the same mythological dog-headed fishbeasts, they are a conspicuous sight and difficult to miss. Once the ships have made their way there, well... then it is just a matter of waiting on the starting signal itself.

Out on the drommond, Fatima lounges, enjoying her front-row seat. Crewmen beside her watch the ships assemble - perhaps guarding against any false starts or other trickery. And once each and every one of the racer longships has assembled, one of them waves a signal flag, hailing back to the shore that the vessels are in position.

Galen can be seen getting the ship ready with the team, a smile on his features. As he sees Sebastian, Fatima and Viviana though, he makes a properly obscene sailing gesture towards them, something amongst pirates but it's made with enough of a smile on his face, that it's obvious it's meant out of familiarity and not out of any actual spite. He calls over loudly, "Hey! If we drop anything feel free to pick it up for us. We'll make sure to gather it from you at the finish line!" There's an energy to the already enthusiastic Prince. Clearly, the prospect of going to see has him absolutely giddy.

Once everyone is one their ships... Jules haveing transported to the Isles Canine's flagship and standing now at the side of Fatima as the /herald/ calls all to the starting, /line/ Stepping past her sister to lean against the railing, her dark hair flying in the wind as she holds up a great length of blood red silk that flutters behind her like a flag. As soon as all ships seem ready, Juliana lets go.. like some sort of Phoenix, the flag shoots high in the air signalling the start of the race.

The friendly gesture -- surely it's that! -- from the Navegant ship earns a brief snort from Sebastian as he eyes his cousin. Fingers lift to his lips, his open palm lifted away as if blowing Galen a kiss -- except it's accompanied by the yelled words, "I'll have the best wines in Arvum waiting for you by the time you reach Setarco, cousin."


At the gesture from the Prince of Thrax on the Navegant longship, the Sword of Setarco nimbly hops up onto the railing of the Bullsharks and smoothly draws Twilight's Edge from its sheath and brandishes the alaricite rapier of House Pravus in the direction of the Leatherback in challenge. Viviana has a wide, hearty grin on her thick lips as she calls across the distance to the other ship, "Try not to get lost on your way to Setarco. Don't let your crew get distracted thinking of the lovely women of the Silken City awaiting them at the end of the race!"

Any joy that Ian might be feeling to have escaped Arx and gotten out on the water isn't visible in his demeanor -- not to people who don't know him well, anyway. Seen from a distance on the deck of the ship, he looks serious and focused. He's able to anticipate Aethan's orders, obeying almost as soon as the captain gives them. The fact that Ian, Aethan, and Wash have spent a lot of time sailing together on the seas around Stormward lets the three of them communicate in shorthand. As the ship sets off, Ian settles into the rhythm of a long sail. It's a good bet he won't be doing much sleeping between here and Setarco.

As soon as Juliana calls that the race has begun, the Stormward ship sets off. At the helm, Aethan calls something back to those on the ship. The exact words are lost in the cheering of those still on the docks, but whatever they are, they set up another cheer, this one from the ship's crew.

Wash sways with the movement of the boat the way he would his wife on the dance floor. His cadence and his steps match in such a rhythm that any movement from a member of the crew out of sync stands out like a sore thumb. He's not shy to poiunt it out, relying first on a sharp tongue instead of a sharp lash to keep his men focused.

Alarissa has left the Leatherback, a Navegant longship.

Sorrel has left the Leatherback, a Navegant longship.

There is fire in the belly of this ship as it storms off. Alrec focuses on the herrings, forcing his commamd of the boat, "Tighten up!" He bellows, kissing his fingers and flashing a peace sign to Mangata above.


The Sword of Setarco can be seen hopping down from the railing of the Bullsharks, sheathing her rapier, and then turning her attention to getting the ship under way with the rest of the crew. At first, Viviana seems familiar enough with what needs to be done, but perhaps mildly distracted. Blame the myriad guests on board the Pravus ship.

As their ship gets underway, Sebastian widens his stance -- he seems to have enough experience of ships to comfortably ride the choppy first moments as the ships navigate away from the docks. He mostly keeps out of the way of the more experienced sailors, though he's watching closely, ready to step in an offer an extra pair of hands if needed.

The Navegant team is off and sailing. Turo barks orders, setting the ship toward the open seas with practiced skill. He looks at home, and behaves with that confidence borne of plenty of proof that he really is that good.

As the Leatherback slips out into shore, Galen hops up on the rail guard as well, holding onto a line rising all the way up to one of the masts. He's shaking his fist back at the Pravus vessel, but any further reply is thankfully (mostly cause it would be a shame for him to -actually- offend anyone in a fun event) and it's down to business. With that it's time to sail and he finds his spot to re-bark out orders from the Captain, keeping an eye on his portion of the boat and the crew assigned to him, and jumping in when needed...okay he probably jumps in a lot more often than needed because...sailing.

Lucrezia holds true to her legacy as the Wanton's captain in short order. Her responsibilities are thoroughly connected as if she were blessed by the gods of the sea, themselves. It's almost as if she has found a way to speak to the ship directly and knows exactly what is needed as their voyage begins, though she is most certainly focused. The sailing is already claiming her every moment's attention, leaving her without further words to share. Clearly this lady is in the race to win it!

Flags are waved on the flanking longships that make up that fanciful and definitely imaginary starting 'line,' sailors shout, and the race is underway. On the drommond further out, Fatima leans forward on her luxuriant seat, watching as the ships unfurl their sails, put oars to water, do everything they can to break ahead. There's a relatively short distance to cover before approaching the rest of the fleet (and, ominous as ever, the Cardian ship), whereupon several of the longships are arrayed to mark out the first 'turn,' that will take the ships out of the bay and toward open waters. "Oh, isn't this exciting?" she wonders at her sister, watching them approach. But even the large flagship isn't idle. As the race is now well and truly begun, the Princess glances back and gives orders for her own ship - and the whole of the Isles fleet - to begin getting under way itself. This is a marthon, and the larger ships will follow at their own pace.

Rana arrives, following Skapti.

Skapti has joined the Leatherback, a Navegant longship.

As the coast starts to get smaller and less definite, the Quartermaster comes up to Aethan, waiting for a moment before he says, "The fuckin' Isles didn't give us enough for two weeks, just one." He is clearly Not Happy, but Aethan just shrugs, looking back to catch Ian's eye, then Wash's. "Won't be any worse than when we spent over a month trying to catch those pirates off New Hope when we thought it would only take two weeks, will it? Make do." The man nods, and he doesn't even grumble as he walks off. ...Well, not much, anyway. A little bit.

Predictably, Ian is entirely unphased by this new information, with regards to the rations. He nods. "As long as Wash doesn't start singing, like last time," he mutters. (Wash is totally going to start singing, like last time, whenever "last time" was.)

There is no problem at the Pravus ship, everyone is like 90 pounds. Alrec tells his quartermaster to just split the rations and add some random garnish. That'll and the rum will distract them."

Turo speaks quietly with the quartermaster and nods sharply. He seems to be making a decision, and then he says to the crew, "Isles didn't give us all that I would have. So, looks like we're on rations. Not that there'll be any complaining, I trust." There's no question of it - it's as simple to Turo as the weather, or the time of day. His bass voice is easy to hear over the din of the wind and waves and sailors' calls. "If there are problems, don't hesitate to tell me."

No food? No problem. Sebastian pats his flask, folds his arms, and refuses the first round of rations. It's not the first time he's lived off a liquid diet -- and, after all, he's not sailing, so it's not like they'll end up in Cania instead or anything. He does seem to be keeping a closer eye on Arianna now, though...

"Did I ever tell you of the time I tried to reach the Western Saffron's on a beam reach an slack tide? Becalmed for three weeks." Wash explains. "Three weeks, even the water ran out. Let me tell you, you can eat a barnacle, but it is more work than it's worth." Wash regales his crew with stories about his time at sea. Of course, each story has it's own verse in a much longer song that Wash teaches the crew to distract them from rumbling stomachs.

Three and forty hungry men
And not a cloud in sight
Six and eighty idle hands
All through the silent night.
Six hundred some-odd listless fingers
Parting, plying useless knots
Five and eighty searching eyes
One is all the captain gots.

Using some crazy kitchen illusion, the Quartermaster is able to prepare a dish so fancy that the ladies and lord have no idea about the ration cut. Rum is readily available, how much can these Pravus drink?


The Sword of Setarco actually laughs aloud when the news about the rations spreads. Especially since they have guests on the longship, and now they get to share in the suffering too. That's what they get for tagging along and distracting the crew. With the reduction in food, Viviana seems to do just fine. You don't maintain a proper Lady Pravus figure without skipping a few meals here and there, anyways.

Not to say that Arianna has been giving people the eyes, as if she's hungry but it wouldn't be untrue. Her pout is supreme when the rations are served but her displeasure is silent for now. The most deadly kind of silence that lingers whenever people ask her if she wants any of the woodchipy lookin' ass rations.

"The silent night. Really." Ian motions the bosun over. "Tash. Tell the night crew..." The raucous singing on the Stormward ship drowns out Ian's voice as he and the bosun plot his revenge.

"Less rations? That's no problem," he calls out to the crew with a bit of amusement. "That just means you'll have plenty of appetite for the women of Setarco. And believe me gents, they'll have an appetite for you," he says with a louder laugh this time. "Besides, I think we can all agree that some of you...not naming any names *cough*REX*cough* would likely have happier wives if you came back a little lighter!" He points a little bit at the crew and he calls out. "Now you heard the Cap'n! Keep it moving and maybe some of you will get there fast enough before all the good Setarco women are taken...though again, from what I've seen of this motley assortment, again, that wouldn't stop you either!" Aaaaaaaand, he gets back to the singing. "Let...there...be ships at sea...and let them belong to me....let there be ships at sea, that now are a part of my fleeeeet....."

Skapti shakes his head at the news of rations, and just mutters "Pickeled herring it is, boys," with a bit of a bitter laugh. "Hopefully we can spear some tuna perhaps as we go, supplement the supplies some. We'll make it last, somehow at least," the Salt well used to sailing on a lean stomach at least from his raiding days.

The race continues, and the excitement of the rapid rush from the bay is quickly replaced by the reality of life at sea: tedium. The voyage is a long one, and where one ship may lead or trail at the given moment, the many leagues still ahead to travel leave ample opportunity for reversal of such fortunes. Most of all, in this marathon trip, what quickly becomes apparent is that the winning vessel will be one well-crewed in every aspect, in every position, from the lowliest seaman and deckhand to the mates and officers. Captain and quartermaster, boatswain, navigator, helmsman.

This theme is made apparent when the sailors discover their meager rations.

Needless to say, on the trailing flagship... those same ratios are plentiful. Maybe that's where they all went?! While they've put away Fatima's 'fancy observing chair,' they've seemingly replaced it by bringing out numerous barrels full of salted meat and fish out onto the deck, along with lots and lots of booze. Indeed, the crew of the drommond maintains an atmosphere on deck that is more festive than anything, singing their own songs and wagering dice over the twists and turns of the race as they watch it play out ahead. Although rarely obvious at a distance, the halfblood Princess herself can often be seen standing at the prow of the ship with a chalice in hand, as if toasting to the good fortunes of the racers.

One week in.. the ships are spread out now.. not able to call from one to the other as easily, everyonce in a while a sail will appear ahead or behind to drop away again. Though the Isles Canines flag ship seems to like to speed up and drop back and so on... better to torment all that are playing. Not that they can always catch those ahead.. but there is a good deal of Juliana standing at the rails, drinking a glass of Setarco fire and when she can lifting a toast to a cousin or sibling or even ex lover. The weather however is still early spring and unpredicable and about day 6, the skies start to turn slate grey... the wind starts to snap and pull..

A toast is given back to Juliana, as they whisp away and vanish into the horizon buckling in for the long trip.

Ian displays absolute confidence in his brother's judgement with regards to exactly how much sail the ship can handle as she's tossed about on the choppy seas, driven hard by the gusting wind. He's in the rigging with some of the most experienced hands, making sure the reefs go into the sails exactly when Aethan wants them, even as the mast makes wild, sweeping figure 8s. "I'll stick the landing this time," he shouts down over the howl of the wind.

Nothing like a storm to get one's thoughts off a grumbling belly. Wash delights in the weather as it approaches, particularly as Aethan has put the ship on an optimal course to ride out the swells. "See that man? Taught me everything I know." He crows when a particularly strong swells catches the Kennex longboat astern at just the right moment to cause every oar to dig, not one catching air. Wash times his passes down the walk between the oars calling out the cadence regularly.

A storm may be beginning, but Aethan actually seems to be enjoying himself. Well, after all, it is a race, isn't it? Races are fun! He grins as he calls back orders to the crew, no sign of the normally dour man anywhere to be seen. "There'll be trouble for you if you don't!" he calls back to his brother, though still with that wide smile on his face that he actually wears well -- just not often.

Okay, look, they're all drunk and Alrec always believed that when it came to bad weather, Mangata takes the wheel. Things weren't as cool as they were before, all the ladies and lord herd into the inside of the longship by the quartermaster, "We fucked up." Alrec says to him, drawing on the hood of his raincoat and braving this weather as best as he could.

Catching Wash's words over the din somehow as well, he turns that way, then points to his temple. "And it cost me this bit of color, too!"


Maybe it's the lack of rations, but when the storm rolls in, the Sword of Setarco seems a bit overwhelmed and doesn't account herself terribly well. At one point, during a particularly choppy bit of waves and rough wind, Viviana goes sprawling half-way across the deck before she manages to collect herself and does her best to try and help see the ship through the storm.

Despite the weather, Turo seems entirely unaffected by it. He doesn't even adjust his coat, letting the rain beat down on him, the wind picking up. The Navegant Admiral simply moved, sure-footed and calm, no matter the chaos that's brewing. Orders are barked over the wind, encouragement hollered over the noise of the crew. He simply moves through the weather without a pause or concern.

Skapti's spent more of his days on a deck than off of one at this point in his life. A little bad weather isn't going to put him off, that's for certain. He seems to relish it even, as if this is what 'real' sailing is, a bit of an almost deranged smile on his face as he barks orders to the other crewman.

Galen feels the wind and can sense the wet weather and he does whate every smart person does when they're about to go sailing in a rainstorm. Galen takes off his shirt and tucks it into his belt, getting to work and continuing to relay orders. Of course, it does become fairly apparent that being a Prince more and a Warlord slash Pirate less, he isn't as accustomed to sailing in the bad weather and he's definitely being helped by the crew more than he's helping in this part. But...no harm, no foul as they say.


Try to wind down, Lucrezia! Don't be so closed off, Lucrezia! Everything is going fine, have another drink! Ugh. Her head is pounding about as bad as the waves which crash against their ship and the shorter-haired sailer is positively drenched. "That is an understatement," she deadpans to Alrec while sort of glaring out toward the now vacant deck. The sea is most angry, and they are no longer in any position to reason with her.


Sebastian, having had little to no food and having drunken probably more than is good for sailing in good weather... has definitely drunken more than is good in poor. He stumbles around the deck, letting himself get herded below-decks, though not without a muttered imprecation -- at the weather, presumably. Water tends to ruin silks, and what else would a Pravus wear?

The sun rises the next morning, clear and warm. So much warmer than Arx.. some ships weathered better than others but in truth they are so scattered now that all one can do is worry about their own. The last half the weather just keeps getting warmer and perhaps bluer.. until one by one the welcoming embrace of Setarco Bay can be seen.. are they first, last... none can really tell yet. (not until I get the rolls from those absent).

Galen is overheard praising Skapti.

Whatever position they're in, the Stormward ship has given it their best, and it shows in the expressions of the crew as they disembark -- and yes, even Aethan looks relatively contented, if a shade thinner than when they started out. Those smaller rations were killer.

The trip has taken its toll on Ian -- two weeks without more than a few minutes of sleep at a time, plus reduced rations. But though the weariness might be carved into the prematurely aged lines in his face, not even a hint of it is visible in the way that he moves or the sharpness of his gaze. He's rousted up from one of those short naps by the cries of land ho.

Having half the mind to sacrifice a couple silks in order to get back to Setarco, Alrec's thoughts are subdued at the mere sight of the Silken City and its blue weather. The Admiral of the city leads his boat through the busy traffic of the familiar port.

Turo looks around as they head into the bay. He smiles to his crew - beaming, actually - and then he gives a sharp nod. "Well done, all of you," he says. He begins to highlight by name individuals in the crew he noticed going above and beyond, making sure to include his teammates as well. His praise is effusive, but it's also grounded in reality - there's no pumping of tires happening. He claps Galen, Skapti, and Victus on their shoulders as he moves past them on deck. "I couldn't be prouder," he says once more, and then he sets to the business of securing the ship and crew.

Something about the nearness of Setarco calls to one born in its embrace. Sebastian is up on deck again -- still with rum to spare in his flask, albeit looking thin and tired -- as they sail into the bay. His expression is a mixture of anticipation and wistfulness, his eyes taking in the white-washed walls of Pravus Keep and and the white docks with a release of breath that might -- surprisingly from the normally moody artist -- sound like a mute happiness. "Well done, Admiral. And to all the crew," the Pravus Voice murmurs, though his eyes never waver from his city.

Wash has lost a bit of weight, a battle that he will fight the rest of his life unfortunately. The perils of turning thirty. But he's happy to see Setarco, pointing out to the crew that has never been there before the best pubs to visit and promising them a round on him, when the Captain has released them from their duties.

Galen seems to have decided that the warm sun and the Bay of Setarco also requires no shirt, since it's been a long winter. He's enjoying the warmth and he grins to the shipmates. "Well that was fun," he says, and he heads off with the others, a smile on his features. "First round's on me..." he offers pleasantly, glad to be getting to shore and knowing that before they have to head back, this is going to be quite enjoyable.

The first thing Victus does when he's off the boat is immediately turn back to his fellow crew. "Good work. All of you." He nods to Turo's acknowledgement as well. The next thing he does is walk straight across the dock, already signaling for a harbor master to book passage out of here. Just him.


Perhaps unsurprisingly, it's easy for many of the Pravus to tell as they near the waters of Setarco, and Viviana lets out a little huff of breath as they do. It's been a rough, but not unmanageable week on the sea. The Sword flashes a grin at the rest aboard the longship and nods, "Could've been smoother, if we'd been ready for that storm, but nothing much to complain about beyond that."


The storm may not have gone according to plan but by the following day it seems as though it had been worthwhile if for no other reason than to see the shores of Setarco upon the horizon. Regardless of the race, for some involved this has been a trip back to their home. With hands resting upon hips Lucrezia looks from the horizon back to Sebastian, one brow hooked slightly higher than its neighbor as she catches sight of him with drink yet in hand. "Slow to learn lessons?" She gives her own question some thought before taking the flask right from his hand. "Today we shall learn slowly together."


"Well sailed, well sailed," Skapti rasps, nodding to his companions, even sparing a small smile. A look to Galen there, and "Is it now? Well, I think I like you more already, y'highness," with another grin for the man.

Setarco is warm, welcoming. There are rooms at inns and food and drink waiting. They will get to rest.. if only a day or two after all, Setarco has plans too and what those are, might only be known in Juliana Pravus' mischievous smile when she meets each of them.