1 - Shipboard Skirmish

Joe batted away the weighted line looping towards his calf with [Heavy Hand]. Whenever Hah'roo managed to entangle one of his legs with her twenty-foot-long rope dart, Joe inevitably found himself yanked off his feet and dumped onto the ship's deck a moment later. Even [Steadfast] failed him more often than not, as the wind-talker could generate slippery pockets of air under the soles of his feet.

He had tried using his new talons to hook the rope, but so far, that had just led to nearly broken fingers. Thankfully, his hands were heavily reinforced due to the damage resistance built into [Savage Claws].

Even though he knocked that attack away, Joe knew a follow-up strike was already on its way. This is what got him every time. In the seconds it took [Heavy Hand] to reset, Hah'roo would come at him from another direction. The terrain of the ship could not have suited the galeling better. The blue-haired ranger bound up onto a rope ladder on gusts of conjured winds only to kick off the mast and flip over Joe's head. She landed on the boards of the main deck, spinning herself and snapping out another attack in one gliding motion. The woman moved like the wind, flowing from perch to perch, all the while manipulating the air around her to keep her weapon swirling and striking from unpredictable angles. The line spun around the practice handaxe he was holding, trying to wrest it from his grip.

They were five days out from Peregrine Harbor, and Joe had all but abandoned his staff at this point. If Hah'roo was not just tearing it out of his grip, she would use her favorite trick of getting behind him and yanking the stave, so he ended up smacking himself in the face with his own weapon.

The ship's carpenter, Dunny, a frumpy old dwarf, had a skill for magically shaping wood. He had made Joe a replica of Haybreaker and a wooden handaxe. Actually, he had made several of them as Hah'roo's disarming strikes tended to toss the mock weapons over the railing and into the Strait of Glandryth. Dunny didn't seem to mind at all. Turns out crafting practice weapons was a lot more fun than his typical shipboard maintenance.

Joe had been sparring every day with either Hah'roo or the sailors. Against the crew, he had found he liked Dunny's tomahawk-shaped axes better. They gave him a second good blocking implement in addition to Haybreaker. Against Hah'roo, that much extra haft to the weapon just made it easier for her to pluck the tool away. He was using a heavier hatchet the carpenter had shaped for him this morning, and so far, it had not left his grip.

Dunny had left a heavier knob at the end of the haft. Between the bulb and [Morphic Form] enhancing his grasp, Joe had managed to keep hold of the rope-bound chopper.

[Morphic Form] - Uncommon - Vigor: You can transform your physical form to become more bestial, temporarily altering your physical attributes, appearance and/or reasoning. For five minutes, you can adjust an attribute or combination of attributes by up to 15% plus 1% for each skill rank you have with this skill. Cost: Median Stamina. {Transformation}

He flared the transformative skill, giving up any boost to speed or defense, putting all the power into strengthening his arms and back. He pulled hard, forcing Hah'roo to yield more of her line. Joe had fought alongside her and sparred with her enough to know that when the galeing warrior unreeled her rope dart, she would almost always follow it up with an attempt to ensnare her opponent.

For the first time, he was ready for it.

As the line passed over his head, Joe directed [Forceful Fist] to grab the cable. At the same time, he hurled Dunny's hatchet and activated [Hunter's Pursuit], charging the rope-dancer with his fake Haybreaker.

Hah'roo had clearly expected to be able to trip Joe up with the extra loop of her rope dart. When that failed, and she was forced to dodge the entangled axe, Joe knew she was about to get ruthless. In past bouts, if he tried to close the distance, Hah'roo would launch herself upward into the ship's rigging. If he stayed on the deck, she would explode into a whirlwind of [Take Down] attacks until she tripped him.

Yet this time, he was slightly closer to the wind-walker than he had ever been before. He enhanced his legs with [Morphic Form] to leap. Right on cue, she shot up toward the lines overhead. Joe bounded upwards as well, but not at her. Dropping the club, Joe jumped as high as he could onto the mast. Using his claws, he scrambled further up the thick wooden pole before he kicked off, piling into the airborne ranger mid-flight.

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"Hey!" Killian barked from the deck.

Joe winced as he and Hah'roo tumbled back down onto the planks. One of the cardinal rules of shipboard sparing was to never damage the Tide Dancer. He knew he'd be sanding out his claw marks and shellacking the wood as soon as the match was over.

Which it was. When the pair slammed into the deck, Joe felt his shoulder drive the air out of his partner's lungs. She slugged him a few times for good measure, but [Stun Block] shielded him from being dazed by her blows. The minimal damage vanished with a single [Healer's Touch].

Joe latched his taloned hand around her neck and pricked her pure white flesh. His claw-enhanced hold was greeted by a smile and, even better, a rare nod of approval.

"That was well done, Joe. Fluid. Combining skills. You even cheated by climbing up the mast. I am pleased. You should be as well," the ranger hailed in her breathy voice.

"Yeah, but Killian isn't," Joe countered, looking at the burly first mate's scowl. Even so, he had to admit, any victory against Hah'roo felt great. He tossed a salute at Killian and headed to Dunny to grab a sanding stone.

The galeling flowed up onto her feet and plucked the block of pumice from the dwarf before Joe could get there. "I'll fix this one. My reward for your progress. At this rate, when we reach Fort Coral, your ability to defend yourself will no longer be an embarrassment."

"An embarrassment?" Joe bemoaned mockingly. At her raised eyebrow, he added, "Just kidding. Thanks, Hah'roo."

"Besides, I can reach the clawed wood without causing more damage far more easily than you can." And she could. With floating steps, she slid up the mast and used her rope dart to form an anchor for her to work from.

Joe headed over to where Wakely and some of the crew were sitting, watching them. This section of the straits had a steady wind from the west, which, while still frigid, allowed for easy sailing. When they reached the edge of the sea to the east, there would be no more lazing about again until they rounded the Great Horn that gave the southern Hornwood its name.

"Well, young Elmar," Wakely drawled. "Looks like ya finally made yer money back." The boozy bosun tossed Joe his ever-present flask. "The lad had such faith in ye, Joe, that he's been bettin' on ya in yer matches with that there fair gusty lass. And we have been happily taking his money. That is, until this surprising upset to the natural order o' the world. Ye actually won a bout. Right after we all gave Mister Soly here four to one odds to boot."

Ready for the gut punch that followed Wakely's constant choice of abrasive booze, Joe took a controlled slug. "Congrats, Elmar," he wheezed out through the liquor's harsh fumes.

"That's the second one I owe ya now, Joe," Elmar exclaimed. The sailor had been on the brink of dying during the troll attack the last time Joe had sailed with this crew. Joe managed to heal him just seconds before the sailor bled out.

"You could always split the winnings with me," Joe joked.

"Well," Elmar spluttered impishly, "that could put us on a bad foot with the boyos here, ya know. They might take us for a pair o' cheats. I'd just hate to tarnish the reputation of our ship's doc."

"Thanks for looking out, buddy," Joe replied dryly. "Though I'm still not sure about the job yet. I'd like to take a look at this Fort Coral first before I decide."

"It be a real shit-hole, boyo. Nah, Elmar's got the right o' it. Ye and the lass should stay on with us. I ain't never seen a more natural-born rigger than her," Wakely praised, pointing a thumb up at Hah'roo.

"Don't dump guts on him, Wake," Cendendi countered, shaking her tangle of black dreadlocks at the bosun. "Fort Coral is damn fine place, Joe. You saved me a hand and gave us a shore leave to end all shore leaves by killing the Skinner. So unlike some unscrupulous sod, I ain't gonna pull your cap down. You make yer own call, boyo, and don't let that one sandbar ya."

"Cendi's right," Wheeler, the helmsman, added. "I love Fort Coral. We don't get there near often enough. You'll find a lots o' folk like us there, Joe." The slight man was a gruagach, a race that, like changlings, had a bit of fey heritage to it. His large, canted eyes and pointed ears looked similar to an elf, but with a more untamed appearance than was normal for the elegant race. His hair was a spiky blue-green mess, leading into a tightly curled beard.

"Why not?" Joe inquired as he dropped the wash-bucket overboard and then pulled it back up on its rope.

"Why not what, boyo?" Wakely asked.

As Joe waited the few seconds for the pail's minor enchantment to remove the salt from the water, he replied, "Why don't you guys get to Fort Coral often enough? From everything I heard in Peregrine Harbor, and from everyone but you, Wake, it sounds like a really fun city."

When the glow from the desalination runes faded, Joe scooped up a handful of water to scrub the sweat from his face, being careful not to rake his claws across his cheeks. He had made that mistake more than once since he had acquired his talons.

"One word for ya, boyo: pirates," the bosun intoned, purposefully dropping his voice into an ominous register. "The end of the strait be lousy with raiders out o' their city o' Defiance."

"Wait, we are going to try and sail past a pirate city," he faltered, popping back upright with a dripping face. 'Why?"

"We gots ourselves a pass this time. Should keep the worst o' them off us," Wakely stated, taking a long swig of his moonshine. "Still, pirates be pirates. No telling what some gang o' buccaneers will try. Why do ya think we been workin' ya so hard, Joe? We gotta keep our healer healthy if'n some scraggy gobs try and climb aboard."

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