The Wheat, the Wheat

As Fedor lay dying, Rushing, the naïve young druid, knelt and supported Fedor’s head.

Fedor croaked, “Alas and alackady, for now I shall be unable to follow you, my brothers and sisters into glorious combat with that most wicked of Sorcerers, Tornaga!”

The gathered adventurers murmured their assent as Rushing tried to reassure Fedor that everything was going to be ok. Sir Bocking started to say something untoward but was knocked into politeness by one of those wooden billy club looking things you see on the rails of sailing vessels.

“Do not vorry, Fedor my friend – ve shall have ze cleric cure your wounds; I’m sure vee haf many healing potions!” Penna the younger added gravely, looking round at the Admiral’s younger brother, Carolus Quintus.

Carolus Quintus replied after a moment, “Uh, well about dem potions, uh, I had to give them to Sir Bocking – he had a really bad tummy ache.”

The scene was about to get ugly but Fedor broke in and called for the Admiral to come closer.

Fedor spoke, his face a portrait of nobility, “Admiral Rossaroni, I’ve got to tell you, I’ve solved the Kobayashi Maru test – chart the parabolic course through the merman neutral zone (cough) – chart – the – parabolic course THROUGH the merman neutral zone – its our .. no, your only hope!”

Naturally, any mention of mermen was of deep cultural significance to the sailor and usually the mention of that race was considered to bring ill-fortune.

Sir Bocking and Schott, a second level fighter, interrupted, “But crossing Merman territory - that is MADNESS!!!!”

Fortunately Lady Lyme Weoghe settled the matter matter-of-factly with a simple, “Would you two shut up! Can't you let Fedor at least die with some dignity”

At her ladyship's direction, the two cads were silenced and the group’s attention then returned to Fedor.

Fedor, flooded by a reddish glow on the rain-spattered deck, raised his glinting, silver mailed sword arm to the sky, his aura glowing brightly as Wagnerian incidental music played.With a final breath, he explained some of the finer details of friendship, poetry, naval grade rope milestone B entry requirements (such as IOT&E) and capability package enhancements which could certainly improve the interoperability and efficiency of entropy based adventuring.

Upon the conclusion of his speech, he passed away and crossed the rainbow bridge at Asgard so to speak. The remaining crew and party members doffed their helms in respect. Funeral music played and everyone reflected on how they would be nicer to one another from now on and not hog all the healing potions and try to pay closer attention to tech orders and acquisition processes.

Gnomic Utterances

Turnips’s head ached with the pains of the previous night’s feast. His stomach roiled and the luminosity of a volcano sun tortured his eyes. He quickly threw his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the light.

Strange dreams had plagued his sleep. He had imagined himself to be Hannon, cleric of Heimdall, fighting trolls during the great rear-guard battle at Ragnarök. Why, he had even engaged the great lord in conversation on Bilfrost Bridge!

He thought to himself, “Surely, this must have been the result of some piece of ill-digested mutton.”

No matter how Turnips sought to ease his mind with this rational explanation, he remained uneasy and unsure of himself. The floor swayed beneath him.

Clenching his fist and raising it to the skies, Turnips cried aloud, “Trouble me no further Idun - The woof of darkness you have woven is thick and has hid all delight from me!”

Luckily, Woody, the Admiral and the Planetary Sovereign’s crusty Chief Petty Officer arrived to comfort Turnips in moment of madness.

The Admiral spoke first “Come, come old bean, you’re amongst friends - ”

“Yes, we heard you talking excitedly and I thought you might be composing a new drama so we rushed to your cabin,” Woody added, “and I didn't want to miss out a chance to hone my own dramatic skills. Remember, I played the third Triton in 'The Lokarian Chamber Pot Merchant'."

The Chief, not wishing to miss out on an opportunity to appear in the blog, joined in, “No kidding, we was all a bit confused by all that Shakespeare talke you were spouting, why we was ready to –.”

The chief, however, was rudely interrupted by a fourth party who appeared leaning casually on the cabin door, applauding softly, almost sarcastically into his supple leather gloved hand.

“Bravo, bravo, my good man, bravo” said the shadowy figure, “But, I’m afraid we have no time for this sort of nonsense, we have ports to sack and Marzipans to rescue. When the time comes for poetic recitations, I shall be the one to deliver them.”

As Sir Bocking stepped out of the shadows, Turnips noticed the large badge he wore – a badge bearing the legend “My Green Dragon ate your Honor Student.”

Ever wise, the wiley Chief thought crustily, "Whew, I reckon we can't get to Lord Toranaga's quickly enough."