Snippet #1865376

Edusrt van der Zaal shifted his bare feet on the cobblestones, the gray and tan pavings growing warm enough that the tough skin of his soles, began to burn, as the ship's company stood waiting on the shore. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on his inked and tan skin, as the rays beat down on them, from the crown of his shaved head to the top of his feet. A frown creased his lips, as his bright blue eyes stared towards gathering of nobility, his posture changing with each second, from the formal attention normally given to a powerful member of the Company, to close to a slouch as he could manage and not look like a sloppy greenhand. In the time they had been waiting, he could have burned through at least eight minutes of matchcord, maybe more.

Taking a deep breath, the tall Demician crossed scared arms over his chest and grunted sourly. He look rather like a common sailor, wearing only his trousers but the pair of pistols, tucked into the front of his belt, added to the fact that he was standing in front of the company, with the rest of the officers, marked him of some importance. Feel a little bored, he glanced around, making sure not to turn his head, so that the crew wouldn't notice him. It was a mottle collection of men and women assembled here, good Demicians like himself, Lisimens and others from the Old World, to dark skinned Ergolysens and even a few natives, although at least didn't looked pleased to be there.

As the Master Gunner's eyes turned back to the stage, his eyebrow arched slightly. Without fanfare, the second captain appeared to have arrived or at least that who he suspected the man was, seeing as he had stepped up before the Queen of Witfield and she was shaking his hand. Then his suspicions were confirmed, as the Queen herself announced the man to be the captain of the Obsidian Star, the ship he had been transferred to and named Gareth Fletcher. Memory itched in the back of his skull, some half remembered connection to the name but it faded, as his sharp eyes, caught the man walking off the stage. There was something about the woman, the female captain who had been running the show for the past few days, that caught this Captain Fletcher off guard.

His frowned returned, as his new leader faltered. With the crews pouring back aboard the ships and the officers of the Star approaching, Fletcher hesitated and fumbled with the offered hand of his fellow captain. First the man was late and then couldn't work up the nerve to shake a hand? What kind of man was this to lead them? What would the man do when they entered battle, wait until it was too late to give the order to fire and allow the enemy to rake them with shot and finally giving the word when the shivers were done flying? They'd be a ship full of dead or maimed men, if they ever reached port.

Edusrt had smoothed away the frown by the time he stepped up beside the sailing master and his native woman but he had to fight the urge to spit. Call his....well he thought she was his wife, it was disgraceful. Not that it was his business or place to interfere but he couldn't help but look down upon men who treated others like less then animals. He had seen men give more affection to a mongrel dog, who had stolen from their meal. But it was not his business. He was there to care for arms and ammunition and drill gun crews.

"Edusrt van der Zaal" said the Demician, "Master Gunner, assigned from The Demician United Trading Company ship Zeehaen."