Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

The past two seasons of being fed meals far out of his ability to come up with, let alone the skills to recreate, had somewhat spoiled the tall Biqaj against ordinary fare. While he was only eating at Cally’s once a trial on the evenings he worked, it was enough—enough to leave him curious on how to reproduce some of the flavors he’d come to enjoy and enough to make him wonder how he could make better use of his sloop to provide more variety in terms of food when far out in the Orm’del sea. He could only think to ask Faith, who of course had been happy to oblige him.

If only it hadn’t been Saun. Dismal, oppressive, never-dark Saun.

His cabin provided only a little respite, portholes and skylight-like windows open to the breeze. Kali was off doing hunting things and Niv was off doing Tunawa things and so Pash was left to himself to do, well, Pash things. Which to-trial meant a bit of cleaning and by the time he heard the dark-haired woman’s familiar voice, he had moved on from tidying the small living space contained in his sloop’s hull to conditioning the old wood of his grandfather’s lute.

“Es’jah—welcome!” He shouted a return greeting in his own language after setting his instrument back in its place and making his way up the three stairs and out of the hatch into the bright light of dueling suns and baking temperatures on the surface of his deck. The seafaring musician tried not to wince at the fiery heat on his bare feet, waving Faith aboard and offering a calloused hand to help her if she wanted it, “If ‘t were any hotter, I’d jus’ be swimmin’.” Pash admitted with a smirk, aware that Faith’s blessings afforded her an enviable ability to adjust her own body temperature, “Well, a’ least if th’ water felt safer.”

He laughed, shaking his head at the thought of all that seemed to enjoy living in Scalvoris harbor. The tall Biqaj had pulled his hair up hastily on the top of his head to keep it off his neck and out of the way while cleaning, his vest revealing the detailed patterns of inked lines that made up the tattooed sleeves on both his arms, “Cakes, eh?” Pash did not hide his excitement about any prospect of food, dessert-like items high on his list of interests on any given trial, especially if there was chocolate involved, “Well, it’s prob’ly best t’ eat those belowdecks an’ where it’s a bit cooler—for th’ sake o’ sweets an’ all. Y’ can see some o’ th’ space I’ve got t’ work with an’ we can look about th’ sloop after for some more ideas.”

He’d hold the hatch for Faith and follow behind her, the cabin hardly a dimensional challenge for someone of much shorter stature than himself. While he more or less brushed the ceiling of his own home even though he’d built it with his father arcs ago specifically for him, the small space would have been quite comfortable for his friend, almost cozy, stepping down into a very tiny, well-kept kitchen on her left and some storage on her right. Pash would bade her to sit on the bench in the little living area where his folding table currently took up the most space, a few more shelves and his lute taking up the rest of the opposite wall and beyond the living area a curtain that kept his berth about as private as one could get in a space so small, “Can I get y’ some water? ”

He offered, though made the actions to do so anyway, reaching for two mugs on a shelf in his miniature galley before squatting to lift a panel from the floor. Underneath, built into his hull, was the storage for fresh water. If Faith watched him, she would see a few broad, wet leaves of some kind flop out of the opening while the Biqaj filled the mugs and set them on the cutting-board-sized counter near his basin before he tucked whatever the plant was back into the water and replaced the panel. He managed to balance two mugs in one hand while picking up a little basket from his shelf that held his meager cutlery and a few plates. It only took a step or two to join the dark-haired woman at his table, where he sat opposite her on the floor on a round cushion covered in colorful, hand-woven fabric. Pash set the mugs and things on the table between them; the fresh water was surprisingly cold.

Lagoon blue eyes did not hide any anticipation about the promise of cakes, “Did y’ bake in this heat? I can hardly bring m’self t’ use th’ lil’ hearth I’ve got this season.” He chuckled, “No’ that I’m at all great at cookin’ when I do.”

Comparatively, of course. Clearly, he’d survived, though there’d been more than a few trials somewhere in the middle of the Orm’del sea he could say just barely.

“I s’pose I’d like t’ work on m’ options, which ‘s why I invited y’ here.” Pash would explain while giving Faith opportunity to share her snacks, making sure to provide utensils and not ooze too much eagerness over it all, “I don’ have much room t’ work with, but I don’ own much, neither. I was thinkin’ ‘f tryin’ t’ grow some herbs ‘r vegetables on board. It’s kinda’ th’ wrong season now, but it’s never a bad idea t’ plan a little ahead, eh? I’ve managed t’ keep Ellis—m’ lemon tree on deck—alive for a few arcs now, so maybe I can try m’ hand at other things.”

"These? Salt buoys. They're a lil' Biqaj secret, y' could say." Pash grinned when she asked, pausing to lift a bit more of the plant that lived in his water storage so she could see it, "I can put salt water straight from th’ sea ’n m’ hold an’ these lil’ friends—" Yes, maybe the seafaring minstrel liked his plants a bit much, "—turn it into fresh. Y’ can have a bulb ‘r two if y’ want. They’re jus’ another type o’ seaweed, I guess, an’ grow fairly easy."

If she reminded him, she could certainly take some of the plant home with her before she left.

Once they’d settled for a moment at his table in his little cabin, Faith said chocolate and the tall Biqaj grinned, lagoon blue eyes washing over the cake that she shared with him—oh, and she’d brought extras. It wasn’t even his birth trial, but truth be told, while he didn’t chase coin like his people, he did have a particular weakness when it came to chocolate. Bless her. The butterscotch and honeycomb only made the mysterious dessert the dark-haired woman had somehow managed to invent that much more delicious. It may have appeared impossible to believe that Pash even tasted the cake so fast had it disappeared from in front of him with more than one appreciative word of delight, but, he did.

"Aye, I named it, though Niv’s been livin' in th’ lemon tree for a handful o’ trials now." The tall Biqaj nodded without a hint of shame and tilted his messy top knot in the direction of a little cup with the moss that had once been on his person, "An’ that’s Moe. Jus’ seems strange t’ live with livin’ things without names. Y’ don’t name your plants?"

He didn’t keep animals as pets, mostly because seafaring life made it difficult. He knew other Biqaj who kept animals around: dogs or cats, a bird or two, an otter. He’d just never bothered, but a lemon tree’s fruit helped prevent scurvy and was pleasant to have around. The moss, well, it was just a memento now, a reminder of Moseke’s kindnesses.

"Aye, I wouldn’t hang anythin' off th’ sides. I’d think th’ salt water wouldn’t be good for most plants, anyway. It wouldn’t be too safe t’ put much on th’ mast either, though, simply ‘cause o’ th’ sails in a storm or how I’ve gotta move th’ boom t’ catch th’ wind."

He considered the raised roof of his cabin that sat above for a moment and then blinked, tide pool gaze narrowing at the smaller woman before him,

"U’Frek’s ship? Y’ what?" Pash kept his expression as calm as possible, though the Immortal was fresh on his mind if not ever-present in his heart because of his race, "You’ve traveled with U’Frek? An’ fed him, too? Always with th’ stories, Faith, an’ here I am jus’ twiddlin’ m’ thumbs. Nah, that’s no’ true. I … we … he spoke t’ me … t’ us in a dream a few trials ago."

The tall Biqaj wasn’t sure he could properly articulate details, but how Faith seemed to know Immortals was fascinating. His Maker, too? He couldn’t help but smile wanly, aware that what may lay ahead of himself, Kali, and Arlo was most likely far more dangerous than it sounded at the moment after U’Frek’s request for their aid, "O’ course, I’d do for him whatever he needs o’ me, but I don’t think it’ll be cookin’."

Once their conversation drifted back to gardening in his space, he stood, setting dishes in the little basin in his tiny galley and nodding at her suggestions, "I like th’ idea o’ usin’ th’ roof o’ m’ cabin. I don’t want t’ grow much as m’ sloop be small an’ I’ve gotta move ‘round places t’ keep it movin’. M'haps you'll have some ideas on how t' store things better, too, t' keep 'em fresh. Y' seem t' have some good thoughts on those things even at Cally's."

Herbs were good. And maybe some simple leafy vegetables that were easy to grow—lettuces and such, though a few fruits wouldn’t be so bad. Some things were pretty tasty when dried, but not everything was. There was only so much preservation he could do, but his storage on board was no longer as limited as it once had been thanks to a domain bag,

"Here, we can go above decks an’ look ‘round. I’m jus’ thinkin' o’ keepin’ a few fresh things growin’… some leafy things an’ maybe a fruit if there’s somethin’ easy t’ grow. I don’t know much ‘bout plants, so easy things I can keep alive without too much ‘f a green thumb."

He chuckled and led the way, holding the hatch for her and letting her look around wherever she wanted, answering questions about the use of a part of the ship should she ask.

"Truth b’ told, I know they’re out there, but I find it hard t’ believe there’s folks who don’ like chocolate." Pash admitted in response to Faith’s offer of allowing him to taste new things, "An’, well, there hasn’t been much, if anythin’, I haven’t liked from th’ menu o’ Cally’s since I’ve been workin’ for you."

Of course, the tall Biqaj could be accused of being a simple creature when it came to any kind of tasting palate if only because he possessed a need for quantity which sometimes required the ignoring of quality. He’d been spoiled a bit, both by having a family that enjoyed cooking, but also travel and his love of new experiences, Cally’s being a step up in terms of food experience. A high step that would be difficult to step down from once he traveled again. Some of what he enjoyed he’d like to attempt to reproduce or approximate himself in some way, thus the occasion for the dark-haired human’s visit to his sloop,

"Don’ worry—I’ve got jus’ th’ place for them." Pash’s tone implied his stomach, but he had just enough self control to save the rest of Faith’s cakes for sharing with Kali’rial. It was perhaps better for hi m to put the cakes away and out of his sight, anyway. Food storage was cool and dry in its own compartment under the floorboards near his galley, which he stood and tucked the cakes away while they continued talking about things, before he took her back up the stairs and into Saun’s suns,

"I’ve always felt it odd ‘r m’haps a lil’ unfair t’ take an animal out t’ sea, but I s’pose there’s some who may like it." He laughed, aware of friends and family who kept dogs, cats, birds, and other unusual animals on their boats and in their travels. Company was always a welcome thing to have during the long journeys, though for various reasons, the seafaring musician often found himself traveling alone, "I’ll have t’ envy such a time with m’ Maker, but, aye, what He wants o’ us—Kali an’ Arlo an’ m’self were all in th’ same dream with him, actually, jus’ less than a ten-trial ago—I’ve no doubt will be possible when he says it’s time."

The tall Biqaj’s confidence was not out of the ordinary, though to be tasked with something by the Immortal who crafted his people came with a weight he couldn’t express in words. And, well, a very real sense of honor and duty and capability to be so called upon. He grinned, then, almost self-deprecating, and led them above decks again, shading his face from the glare of the suns with his free hand and exhaling at the rush of searing heat that of course didn’t bother Faith at all.

"How high? Hmm." He ran calloused fingers through his hair in thought, lagoon blue eyes straying to the rigging and the ropes that were needed for the mainsail and the jib sail, though most of those didn’t stretch to the aft or over the cabin. The boom did reach all the way across the roof, however, so that didn’t really give much room to work with. Behind the raised area was of course the aft of the sloop and the tiller. He could possibly strap a pot or a container or two against the aft railing and grow taller plants from there, however, making sure to bring them in from the weather just like he tucked Ellis in when conditions were stormy. That just meant he couldn’t take on too many plant friends lest he run out of room to sleep in his own cabin.

"No’ very high, I’m afraid, but I could stick some pots ‘r build a container t’ have against th’ aft there—" he pointed and described his ideas and limitations, explaining that the boom that held his mainsail was always in motion across the ship in order to best catch the wind, "—so I’d have t’ stick with lower-growin’ plants an’ such. I’m no’ that ambitious, but if there’s some fresh things that are hardy an’ I can have on hand, it’s probably a good thing. What d’ you think some options are b’sides lettuces an’ herbs an’ such?"