The Key: Sails and Tide

Chapter 2: The Tempest

"A man named Goor. He is with Jerther and another." Dierl spilled quickly.

"Take me to them." Elreal demanded with firm expression.

"What for?"

The ship rolled and both men lost their footing.

They struggled back up. Elreal shouted.
"I think I may be able to render help somewhat. It is much better than drowning in that hole when the time comes."
He almost sounded to be pleading. His eyes were anxious.

For some reason Dierl still held skepticism for this. The ship rumbled with another lash from the wave.

"For heavens sake take me there." Elreal roared.

Two mariners screamed running pass them. After a brisk momemt of self consultation  Dierl set his resolve suddenly, neglecting protocols and his fated punishment. Times as those for which lay ones doom a hand reach did truly defy conducts.

He gestured Elreal to follow him as he guided path now unto the Wheelhouse.

They walked a while through pace set by the seaman, till they arrived the elevated portion of the vessel. Driving into the Wheelhouse, the duo men's presence was welcomed by shocked and scrutinizing gazes of the trio who lay within the room.

Elreal shifted nervously as he beheld the men's gazes -- Jerther, another unacquainted fellow, and yet another, who stood by wheel as Helmsman.

Elreal perceived the last of the men to be the man called Goor. His features were firm. He had an average height, with well carved muscles. His hair was shaved low, and his beards had he braided into three heads and adorned with beads. He wore nothing save an armless jacket -- unbuttoned, which gave view to his body build and scars -- a trophy he'd surely acquired through many years of sails.
The mans face was round and thick with a frown. Elreal guessed he be in his late thirties even.

The gazes of the men were questioning, but of them all, Goor held the brutal stare.

The Wheelhouse was an enclosed compartment on the aft part of the upper deck. It was an elevated platform, from which the vessel was navigated and from which all activities on the deck could be seen and controlled by the Captain. This was the very reason they considered Elreals presence with absurdity.

"You cannot be here friend." Jerther said, stepping closer to him. But unlike Goor, he held a worried gaze and a soft tone -- almost as a warning.

"I know what to do. We have to gybe. " But Elreal ignored the man and bellowed immediately seeming very eager to be heard.

"That is madness." The trio chorused bewilderedly at his words.
Dierl even who had made no word, gave a shocked exclaim.

The seamen clearly understood what this tactics entailed, and in reality it was suicidal.

"Who are you?" Goor snared disrespectfully now.

"I am a voyager." The young man Elreal answered simply. Although hr found the disdainful stare of the man disturbing, he maintained the doughty countenance.

"Dierl, why have you brought this one here now." The man Goor held up his revile gaze.

"He is a voyager. A good one, I hope." Dierl spoke with head bowed.

"Voyager." Goor laughed with a glint if jive.
"What sailor be you boy? You don't give orders here, this is my ship." Goor declared sternly. His eyes was a curse, and his lips were thick in provocation.

It was at the mention of Goors words that a thought struck Elreal.
Where was the First mate, Sir Grog?

His absence in this moment and Goors declaration spoke ill fate as well had befallen the man. Death surely!