Location: On the Dromond, on the East Echer Sea
HräshHläng breathed in the familiar sea air, as the dromond crashed through the waves of the East Echer Sea. He carefully climbed the rigging forward to the forecastle, to avoid having to squeeze his way down the stairs to the oar deck. The two large dents in the header above the stairwell mark where Hräsh and Hläng failed to duck on their way down on occaision. He grabbed the Foresail line and turned her back to grab the wind, and yelled at one of the crew to secure the line. A crewman jumped a coil of rope to cross the deck as the dromond pitched upwards as it gained more speed. He dextrously steadied himself and tied her down.
"Nice jump," Hräsh commented, as Hläng craned his neck and reached out with his arm to keep his own balance.
"Aye." The crewman returned with a bit of a grin, somewhat amused by the strange co-ordination the ettin used to keep himself afoot on the pitching and rolling deck.
Hräsh squinted an eye, having noticed something about the fellow. "You're half-orc, eh?" He switched to orcish, "are you from Sáregris?"
The crewman nodded, "ré," he answered affirmatively, "I am Grengoreldagh, of the Rihesoech-hordh. My friends call me Dror."
"The Rihesoech are friends of my tribe, whatever remains of them," Hräsh replied, "I am from Dachoen; before its fall. Well met!"
The conversation was cut short by another course correction which sent the crew scattering to keep the Dromond travelling at top speed.
Later, as HräshHläng were off-shift setting up their oversized hammock in the cargo hold; the only space on the dromond large enough to accomodate them—at least when the lower cargo hatch was removed—Dror came walking through the lower hold.
"Dror," Hläng called out, "how be it?"
"I am well," Dror answered, "I brought us some rum" he added, handing Hräsh an large bottle.
"My gratitude," Hräsh answered, and followed up by taking a draught. Hläng lowered an eyebrow at Hräsh, and reached impatiently for the bottle as Hräsh finished. "What brings you to our crew, Dror?" Hräsh asked as Hläng took his turn.
Dror finished a gulp from his own rum and answered, "I was in Dachoen when the Ludimarites came. I escaped the invasion only wounded in battle, and fled to Chormbach. I was allowed to shelter there, as a half-orc, and recognised from the Rihesoech-hordh, as I have done much trade with Chormbach. After I was healed, I joined in the effort to defend the city."
The three of them continued to drink and talk at length about the battle for Cormuk as HräshHläng undressed for bed, and then Dror helped Hräsh and Hläng clumsily climb into their hammock. Even after that, they talked well into the night about the good old days in Dachoen of their youth, and all the sights, smells and sounds that were certainly to be no more, at least for the time being. Eventually, the happy conversation dissolved into slumberous snoring, echoing through the cargo hold, as the ship rocked everyone below decks to sleep.