[center][h1]The Avalon Avenger[/h1][/center]

[b]Time:[/b] Morning
[b]Location:[/b] Whiteashe Dockyards
[b]Interaction with:[/b] [@Hawthorne] and [@Skwint]

The warm sea breeze was, to him, welcome respite to cold morning air. Having received the letter quite suddenly, Solomon had only a single night to recuperate from his previous expedition. In spite of this however, he knew that he was the only one in his family capable of a sea voyage at this time. The doctor looked outside the carriage window, rapping sharply upon the wooden walls to call the driver's attention.

"Right here, my good sir. You can drop me off right here." Solomon said politely.

The horse-drawn carriage quickly slowed to a halt in front of the dock's offices. The driver stood from his seat, stepping onto the cobblestone floor. He then opened the door and helped his passenger onto the ground. It was, of course, his job. Solomon let loose a long sigh as he stretched his body-- as comfortable as carriages could be sometimes, he couldn't help but feel the need to stretch his limbs afterwards.

The doctor then helped the driver unload the many bags from the top of the carriage. A ship's infirmary always tended to lack the tools and supplies that he needed, and so he opted to bring his own. There was his own carry-on bag filled with essentials, four different trunks containing spare clothes, personal effects, medical supplies and laboratory equipment, and an instrument case, with his cello (he was a hobbyist musician, and playing did always seem to lift the spirits of the doctor and his patients, after all)--all of which were waterproof and warded against tampering. Solomon gave the driver a smile and pressed a couple of sovereigns into his hand.
"Thank you, my friend. See to it that you get that rash checked out. Consultations at the Whitewood Clinic are free." The doctor smiled.

The carriage driver left his presence with a smile. A generous tip and a bit of medical advice never hurt anyone, after all. Solomon then let out a sigh as he fished out a silver pocketwatch from his coat. He was punctual of course, but he couldn't help but wonder as to when Captain Sarstina would arrive. He had met him several times when he was younger during dinner parties, and the doctor had heard the stories from his father, but this would be the first time he would spend time with him in a professional sense. The doctor, content to simply wait for his friend to arrive, did so patiently.

The carriage had no sooner drawn away then the doors of the Admiralty building and Bernor appeared framed by the ancient white marble. He was, as always, dressed in his Navy issued coat and trousers, though it was evident he had had some custom tailoring done to achieve the fit. A gold hilted sword and dagger hung from his waist and  there was no sign of his pistols. 

"Solomon!" Bernor's face broke out into a broad smile as he hurried down the steps. A pair of Marine sentries, resplendent in their black, gold trimmed tunics, snapped to attention and saluted as he passed. He paused to hurriedly return their salutes and then resumed his descent, tall boots clicking on the marble. In truth he was quite glad to see his friend, being a Post-Captain had a nasty habit of being lonely at times. "So good to have you!"

The two men shook hands and Bernor regarded the pile of boxes that the Doctor had unloaded. "It'll be a damn fine thing to have a proper surgeon along, Solomon, bless my soul it will. To many good men have died for want of some simply medicine while at sea. Did you bring an assistant or will I need to provide you one?"

The door behind Bernor had opened and a small procession of men, two carrying a heavy sea trunk, two more carrying an iron bound box, four marines, and a strongly built man dressed in a Naval ratings uniform, began to descend toward the two friends. As if on cue, another carriage, this one bedecked with the Saristina Coat-of-arms cam trotting around the corner led by a pair of high stepping horses whose black coats shone in the sunlight.

"I'm glad to be here, my friend." The doctor smiled as he returned the handshake. "My father would have loved to join us, but I'm afraid the old man isn't quite as fit as he used to be." Solomon said politely. "He sends his regards, though. And of course, my personal assistance." He nodded, before moving along.

When the topic of a ship surgeon was broached, Solomon couldn't help but nod in agreement. "Indeed. It is a shame, too. I'm certain the lives of many men could be improved simply by having someone trained in medicine aboard." He comments. "I suppose that's what I'm here for." The doctor says. "My apologies, captain. I wasn't able to hire an assistant under such short notice." He then looked at the door, and the group of men emerging from it. "I certainly wouldn't mind if your men could help me with my luggage, though."

Wordlessly, the men loaded the bags, boxes, and trunks onto the recently-arrived carriage. "Be careful with those-- there are some delicate equipment in there, and no amount of cushioning will stop glass from shattering when it hits the ground like that." Solomon advises the men, before turning back towards his friend.

"...how do you fare, Bernor? You and your family are in good health, I hope? " He asked the man politely as the carriage doors opened.

The two men swung into the carriage, followed by the naval rating who was introduced to Solomon as Huvalor. "He's my man, takes care of my wants aboard ship so I can focus on the business of sailing a Imperial ship. Been with me nearly eleven years, is that correct, Huvalor?"

The man nodded and smiled at the Doctor. "Aye, so it is sah. Ever since we stormed the Trinity together." His voice had a deep base timber to it, a sound that was most pleasing to hear. It was evident he might have some Dwarf in his blood from the heavy build and strong accent.

"I will see to it we find you an assistant on board, Solomon. Can't have a friend of mine suffering the lower decks alone!" Bernor tapped the roof o the carriage as he spoke and it began to rumble forward at once. The tall Admiralty building on their right quickly gave way to a series of low slung stone buildings that swarmed with men readying the vast amount of material required for the Navy. Great long cables and hawsers were stretched in the sun to dry, new masts were being hewn, and massive spreads of canvas were being inspected before they would be delivered to the fleet.

And what a fleet! To their left, the harbour spread out like a giant glass mirror and, anchored in neat lines across it, was the fleet that had built an Empire. Hundreds of ships, ranging from little gigs up to frigates stretched from shore to shore. Amid them, squatting like massive slabs of ham, were the ships of the line. Huge vessels with over a hundred cannon that could throw more lead shot in a single broadside than an entire army division could in an hour. These were the great ship killers that had brought the Empires enemies to their knees. 

"The family is well, thank you." Bernor smiled happily at the thought. His son was just starting to walk now. By the time he came back it was likely the young lad would be speaking and likely in school. "How about your own?"

"A pleasure to meet you, Huvalor." Solomon gave the man a polite nod and a firm handshake. The doctor took a moment to admire the work being done in the docks to the right, and the veritable flotilla of ships to the left, before turning to his friend.

"You have my thanks, captain. An extra pair of hands and eyes always make the work go faster, and the infirmary is no exception." He says in response to the captain finding him an assistant.

"Likewise, my friend, likewise." Solomon replies. "Grandfather still seems healthy as ever, while father and mother still work." He tells Brenor. "Isabel is learning how to dissect frogs, and I believe little Edward is still working on mastering his arithmetic." The doctor sighs. "I still remember the days where I'd tutor them myself, sometimes."

Solomon then looked outside the window. It seemed as if the sun's warm rays were starting to heat the cold morning air to something more manageable. "I never did ask, captain, but which ship are we to board again? I only recall reading that I was to meet you in front of the admiralty offices in the morning, you see." The doctor asked as the looked at a particularly large man-o-war.

Bernors face took on a look mystery and he leaned forward conspiratorially. Next to him Huvalor smiled, he had seen this act before. "Afraid I can't say at the moment." He tapped his chest pocket where a notable square shaped bulge was showing. "Secret orders from the Admiralty. Though I promise you, it will be an adventure."

The carriage was beginning to descend toward the water now and a small sloop could be seen waiting alongside a stone pier. The crew was neatly dressed in their long black pants, white and black stripped shirts, with blue neckties, their long hair neatly tied back. At the site of the carriage they exploded into motion, some hurrying onto the deck to prepare for departure while others quickly formed a line to swiflty load the carriage onto the sloop.

"The Admiralty does not wish anyone to know that I am taking command of this vessel. The current Captain was sent aboard as a ruse and will be leaving on this vessel for a different post. Once we're aboard, I will fill you in."

Solomon raised an eyebrow at this strange behavior. Though he briefly wondered if this whole thing was an elaborate ruse, he knew the captain to be an honest man. "If you say so, captain." He says, doing his best to relax a little bit.

As the carriage descended towards the water and approached the sloop, the doctor could see the many sailors who were assembled to make the transition from carriage to skip as smoothly and quickly and possible. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if the ship was to cast off as soon as they were aboard.

"I'm surprised all this subterfuge is necessary, captain." Solomon commented. "Wasn't this a search for a missing ship?" He asked, a little pensively.

"And the missing Princess." Bernor reminded the Doctor as the carriage came to a standstill. The Navy crew swung into action and swiftly unloaded the number of boxes, ferrying them with great care onto the sloop. They might not have known what was inside the boxes but they all knew what happened to a man who dropped the Captains possessions into the harbour.

Accompanied by Solomon, Huvalor, and the four marines, Bernor stepped onto the Sloops deck. A dismal three boatswains were drawn up and their pipes twittered as Bernor nodded toward the aft gun deck where the sloops captan saluted and then began to roar orders at his small crew. The new arrivals were quite forgotten in the moment as the sloop cast off, a large barge rowed by a dozen men dragging it into the harbour.

The Sloop Captain, a stocky human, was plainly nervous at having such an a exalted guest on board but his crew handled the small vessel with the skill expected of a Naval warship. The topsails filled with the morning breeze and they were soon coasting across the bay and toward the open sea.


[center]* * * * * * * * *[/center]

[b]ONE WEEK LATER[/b]

The Sloop, [i]Gale Rider[/i], rose as she crested each long ocean roller before plunging down into the intervening trough with a stomach clenching speed. Given the size of the small vessel, quarters had been tight, Doctor and Captain had shared a small cabin together, their hammocks close enough together they were constantly swaying in unison. For Bernor, it was another week at sea and he was glad it was done. He had always been violently ill the first week when returning to sea and had been glad of a single gunport in the little space so he could empty his stomach over the side without shaming himself in front of the crew.

He was well past that now as he stared through a spyglass at the quickly approaching [i]Avalon Avenger[/i].  She had been in sight for the better part of an hour now, hull down on the horizon, only her top most sails spread to provide steerage power. The ocean around them was utterly devoid of any humanoid life or even sight of land. A clandestine rendezvous indeed. 

"Captain, make signal to the Avalon that I am coming aboard." Bernor issued his order and then watched with a critical eye as a midshipman hurried to pull open the flag locker and select the appropriate flags. They raced up the mizzen like a colourful bird and after a few minutes a reply broke out on the [i]Avalon[/i]. 

"Signal acknowledged. Standing by to receive you, sah." The midshipsman shouted into the wind and Bernor nodded, turning to the Doctor who was standing nearby.

"Best make sure of your personal affects and see to your medicines, Doctor." The use of first names had ceased outside of their little cabin. "We'll be alongside in an hour."

The past week had not been kind to the doctor. He always managed fine on larger ships and research vessels, but on this tiny sloop, his propensity for seasickness was made apparent. Drawing upon advice from the captain and Huvalor, he did his best to spend some time outside the cabin. Still, when the best forms of entertainment was the occasional game of chess or the study of a book that he had recently acquired... He could only manage to survive, if only barely.

The tight quarters did not help at all, though the fact that the doctor should sometimes hear retching from the other side of the room when they were both supposed to be asleep was... slightly reassuring. It seemed even veteran sailors could fall victim to the occasional bout of nausea. Solomon was quick to brew up a bit of ginger tea, which would help alleviate the effects of seasickness, if only a little bit.

When the [i]Gale Rider[/i] made contact with the [i]Avalon Avenger[/i], the doctor could not help but sigh in relief and silently thank divine providence that they would be off this sloop soon. He watched as Bernor issued his orders, seeing the midshipman perform his signals with flags. Although his skill at Language Comprehension had brought him far with foreign tomes and manuscripts, it had little effect on coded transmissions.

"As you say, Captain. I have my essentials with me, and the other luggage should be ready for transport when we board." Solomon said formally, though the relief in his voice was readily apparent to anyone who knew him.

"...The [i]Avalon Avenger[/i], hm?" The doctor said in a half-whisper. It seemed this ship would prove to be just what he needed.

The [i]Gale Rider[/i] made good time crossing the remaining distance as her destination grew in size, the great black slab sides studded with white coloured gunports, closed now against the weather.  Men could be seen in the mizen tops hauling struggling to loose a sail, balancing on the single ratline that served as their only link between the yardarm and a fall to their death. 

Faces could be seen at the gunwale as the [i]Rider[/i] lowered her small boat and Bernor stepped into the stern. There was room enough for the Doctor and Huvalor to scramble in after him. Four sets of powerful arms set the small boat dancing across the waves until the sheer sided power of the frigate towered over them. A ladder, built into the side of the hull, beckoned to them and Bernor went first, waiting as the boat rise and fell until he could step easily onto the lower rung. It was slippery and he clung on for one terrifying moment he thought he might drop into the sea. He mastered his fear at last and scrambled up the ladder.

Boatswains pipes twittered and a marine guard saluted as he stepped onto the deck. Captain Adrielle Draegon waited for him, resplendent in her blue uniform.  She saluted in unison with the marines. He returned the salute and smiled as he greteed her.

"Captain Draegon."

"Captain Sarstina, an honour. Welcome to the Avalon." The woman returned his smile and the two shook hands. "The ship is, of course, yours."

"Thank you Captain, you stand relieved." Bernor spoke the words he had spoken a dozen times before. He saw a flicker of disappointment cross the womans features and he could't blame her. No one liked to lose command of any vessel. Still, she had years before her. Bernor had been waging war at sea as long as she had been alive, some day she would be standing where he was.

And just like that, the lives of all 315 souls onboard were transferred to the hands of a new commander.  No Captain liked to remain onboard when they had been relieved and Draegon returned to the [i]Rider[/i] with the ships boat as the Doctor and Huvalor gained the deck. The baggage would be transported while Bernor took official command of the [i]Avalon[/i].

Tradition had to be observed and before Bernor could meet his crew, he would was required to take official command of the [i]Avalon[/i] by reading the Articles of War. These regulations, now ancient tradition, would cement him as the ultimate authority on the ship with the power of life and death over every member of the ships company. Only an act of the King could remove him power now. 

He climbed to the quarter deck, nodding in response to the salutes of his new ships officers and stepped up to the railing. The ships company, all neatly dressed in their matching black pants and stripped shirts, all present save for the duty watch, had been drawn up in neat ranks on the rolling deck. Bernor looked out over the sea of faces and knew that, in time, he would come to know them all. He drew a well used booklet from his breast pocket and began to read.

"By the grace of His Majesty, I, Captain Bernor Sarstina, take command of the [i]Avalon Avenger[/i] in the exection of her duties in the service of His Majesty and the Empire. In accordance with regulations, the following artciles will apply to all aboard this ship, regardless of race, creed, gender, or faith."

[hider=The Articles of War]
1. If any officer, mariner, soldier, or other person of the fleet, shall give, 
hold, or entertain intelligence to or with any enemy or rebel, without leave from the
king's majesty, or the lord high admiral, or the commissioners for executing
the office of lord high admiral, commander in chief, or his commanding 
officer, every such person so offending, and being thereof convicted by the
sentence of a court martial, shall be punished with death.

2. Every flag officer, captain and commander in the fleet, who, upon signal
or order of fight, or sight of any ship or ships which it may be his duty to
engage, or who, upon likelihood of engagement, shall not make the
necessary preparations for fight, and shall not in his own person, and
according to his place, encourage the inferior officers and men to fight
courageously, shall suffer death, or such other punishment, as from the
nature and degree of the offence a court martial shall deem him to
deserve; and if any person in the fleet shall treacherously or cowardly
yield or cry for quarter, every person so offending, and being convicted
thereof by the sentence of a court martial, shall suffer death.

3. Every person in the fleet, who through cowardice, negligence, or
disaffection, shall in time of action withdraw or keep back, or not come into
the fight or engagement, or shall not do his utmost to take or destroy every
ship which it shall be his duty to engage, and to assist and relieve all and
every of His Majesty's ships, or those of his allies, which it shall be his
duty to assist and relieve, every such person so offending, and being
convicted thereof by the sentence of a court martial, shall suffer death.

4. Every person in the fleet, who though cowardice, negligence, or
disaffection, shall forbear to pursue the chase of any enemy, pirate or
rebel, beaten or flying; or shall not relieve or assist a known friend in view
to the utmost of his power; being convicted of any such offense by the
sentence of a court martial, shall suffer death.

5. If any officer, mariner, soldier or other person in the fleet, shall strike any
of his superior officers, or draw, or offer to draw, or lift up any weapon
against him, being in the execution of his office, on any pretense
whatsoever, every such person being convicted of any such offense, by
the sentence of a court martial, shall suffer death; and if any officer,
mariner, soldier or other person in the fleet, shall presume to quarrel with
any of his superior officers, being in the execution of his office, or shall
disobey any lawful command of any of his superior officers; every such
person being convicted of any such offence, by the sentence of a court
martial, shall suffer death, or such other punishment, as shall, according to
the nature and degree of his offence, be inflicted upon him by the
sentence of a court martial.

6. Every person in the fleet, who shall unlawfully burn or set fire to any
magazine or store of powder, or ship, boat, ketch, hoy or vessel, or
tackle or furniture thereunto belonging, not then appertaining to an
enemy, pirate, or rebel, being convicted of any such offence, by the
sentence of a court martial, shall suffer death.

7. All murders committed by any person in the fleet, shall be punished with
death by the sentence of a court martial.

8. If any person in the fleet shall commit the unnatural and detestable sin of
buggery and sodomy with man or beast, he shall be punished with death
by the sentence of a court martial.[/hider]

He closed the book as the last words faded into the wind and gazed about the deck for a moment, then turned to the Dwarf who stood nearby. Barik Stormhearth, he was familiar with the dwarfs file from his admiralty reports. 

"That will be all, Mr. Stormhearth. Please get us under way."