Rain falls onto the ship’s main deck soaking crew members. A young man in his mid-twenties looks up with a frown. The clouds are dark and menacing, but with any luck the approaching storm will travel further west than south. However, the vessel isn’t anything to bet on and neither are its occupants. He journeys further down the deck away from his quarters garnishing attention from men with jagged grins. His hand snakes beneath his worn sash, placing a scroll of paper inside a guarded pouch. 

“Men, we need people tending to the masts. A storm is blowing in, so we’ll need complete control over the sails!”

His eyes scan the crowd, searching for the sailing master and boatswain. They nod to him in agreement, having already started preparing for the weather before barking orders to their hands. The rain isn’t too heavy, but his concern lies with beasts resting on the ocean floor. Hopefully nothing wakes them, namely thunder. He runs toward the back of the ship up a short flight of stairs. The ground is slippery, and he curses himself for not having cut his boot soles for a better grip. 

A grin curls his lips upward and he waves at Kristion, “Let us hope the gods aren’t arguing. Thunderous shouts are the last thing we need.”

Water splashes up around his boots as he circles the wheel to get a good view of the deck. “The wind isn’t too bad, so we should be fine to sail."

“Men, where’s Celeste?” His voice carries across the ship. She’s probably in the quarters taking inventory. Some cargo hadn't been taken below deck yet and suffered water damage. She would know how to handle the situation best.