Disclaimer: I do not own, high elfs, Dark Elves, Druchii, etc. It all belongs to games workshop... duh.
A/N: I may have made some mistakes about the high elf navy, I don't know much about it.
Asirnil lifted the feather from the parchment. Planning his route this carefully was hardly nessesary. This because his ship was on supplementary patrol duty. Personally Asirnil thought it to be a waste of labour to dedicate a hawkship to this task. A hawkship is much to big to float about idly. Patrolling these waters is usually a vacation to the crew, but on a Hawkship there is stress even with the sails down. Asirnil could guess why he was issued this wastefull task. A childhood "aquaintance" of his succesfully climbed the Ulthuan naval ladder, quite high. He used to be a part of a group of boys who used to call themselves dark kin and haressed everyone in town, including Asirnil. Off course he grew out of it, and now everyone remembers his juvenile record with a smile on their face, saying: "Who could ever have dreamed he'd grow up to be such a wise man!" Outgrowing his old opinions, and voluntarily "rejoining" High Elf society made him an early adult and a objective commander. Except in the case of the boy who didn't heartily accept him as a member of the village community when he symbolicly burned his Druchii-wannabe outfit. An Elf so important to the face of the Ulthuan fleet could easily get away with a prank like this. And because of it, Asirnil was now bored while his men were working their backs in a loop over nothing.
A knock at the door.
"Yes?"
" News from the regulars, Captain Silkhaft."
The letter was a call for assistance. Appearently a Druchii ship had sailed this region for a few hours, when they were seen. The Druchii followed the ship that spot them, but made no move to intercept. Instead they just followed the ship.
While Asirnil read, the paige that brought the letter in carried a pigeon inside. Asirnil looked up critically as he fumbled around with the pigeon trying to avoid its beak while placing the creature on a pedestal with a cup of birdseed next to it.
The letter went on about how the ship navigated towards a confrontation with multiple ships, each as large as it. Appearently, the single ship was well prepared, and had planned for just this to happen, as suddenly multiple small groups of harpies were sent at the High Elf ships. Instead of the usual haressment tactics these harpies were somehow well under controll, enough so to send them directly at the ships' crow's nests. A closer look had revealed a magically flying beastmaster, or apprentice, had been assigned to each harpy flock. With their nests unmanned and the ships largest speculums wrecked they lost track of the small ship. Over the next two hours four of these ships were sunk by a seadragon. The small fleet quickly dispersed. The smaller ships were not equipped for a task such as this. They needed the Depthstrider's heavier armaments to deal with this creature. The nimble Dark Elf ship would otherwise easily be able to seek out any ship in the fecinity and send its Leviathan at it. They contemplated some more on how strange it was for such a small ship to carry so many mages beastmasters and harpies, and stated their location; several sea-miles off the western coast of the Shifting Islands.
Captain Asirnil Silkhaft was glad he had no time to brood on his superior's rotten luck.
"Tell Charistal we set sail for the Shifting Isles."
"Yes my captain." The young elf, Asirnil couldn't quite recall his name, said with a whinish undertone.
Clearly he was not happy with the news.
"And right he is." Asirnil thought out loud. The fastest way to the Shifting Islands was through a hot sea-current. They would need a lot of tiring maneuvres if wanted to go in as straight a line as possible. At least now planning his route carefully would be worthwhile, allowing him to forget his boredom until they arrived.
But first he would get some air. He could tell the rumours about his orders were spreading already. Of course everyone stopped talking when Asirnil walked by, but you could still tell. On the front deck however there was some restlessness. As he stepped on deck he could have slapped himslef in the face for not guessing what the problem was beforehand. Someone was sick again. He stepped up behind the group of nursing sailors and asked what the problem was. Immediately they all saluted and informed their captain the man collapsed on the floor was sick. They let Asirnil pass and he immediately saw that in fact, that was a very accurate diagnosis. The man was green and his nose, ears, fingers, wrists and many other body parts were swollen to Orc size.
"How did this happen? Did he eat something strange?"
"He ate first with regards to his night duty tomorrow, he had a really tight food chedule to keep him from starving during his night shift tomorrow. And then the new guy that got flown in by eagle yesterday made him a half orc."
"I shall be the one to judge his competence, thank you sailor."
The men innediately renewed their tension. Among them was the boy with the pigeon fear.
"I seem to have forgotten your name, what was it again?" Asirnil asked alertly, in order to make sure everyone realised he knew of everything that was going on.
"Lomenas Surrodan Captain." He said slightly surprised at the captain personal interest.
"Fetch our new cook. I'd like to have a word with him in my office." With that both Surrodan and Asirnil left the upper deck. Leaving the others to get barked at by the second mate who needed them to re-ty the sails so they would survive the heavy manouvring they would have to do.
He started to walk for his cabin. He was just starting to mutter about patroll ships never sending any letters, only when they need something killed, when one of his crewmen caught his attention. It was the cook's assistant, Pollo. Such a short name was unusual for an elf, but he didn't need a longer one. Pollo was the only accurate discription of Pollo. Pollo smiled, he seemed very content with himself. 'I'm going to score points with the captain!' Asirnil heard him think.
"Lucky break Captain! With the change of course and all, tonight we might be able to give the boys a little extra! I found some extra meat, maybe from a previous journey? I can't tell how old it is, but it's well salted! And I'm positive it hasn't gone stale!"
"You know I'm not feeding my men food you found somewhere. It could be anything! But, the men would like an extra... take me there, I'll see for myself."
Pollo walked ahead of Asirnil towards the kitchen. It was at these times that Asirnil most aware of Pollo's 'condition'. Of course Pollo calling Asirnil captain never felt right to Silkhaft. It was his brother after all. Pollo had probably forgotten.
Arriving in the kitchen the head of the ship was met with a disgusting stench. Pollo didn't seem to mind. He pushed forward a large barrel. In it was a large barrel with finely schred strips of meat. White with salt. As the barrel closed in on Asirnil he could smell were the stench came from.
"Pollo. The contents of that barrel are not suited for elven consumption. We can't eat it. Neither can you. Throw it away."
"But, we could marin..." "No. No eating from this barrel." "just cook it for a few hours..."
"Sir!"
"Or mix it in the Soup!"
"Pollo! Quiet. What is it Lomenas?" The youngster was pale. Finally Pollo stopped rambling. He did remember his experiences with sick people.
" At the kitchen, I'd come straigth here but I didn't know and I could've already told you, but I can hardly say it in my brain. It stuck inside my eye!"
" Calm down, and tell me in one short sentence what has exectly happened, nothing more, nothing less."
The Surrodan boy, although a boy he was already taller than Asirnil, took a deep breath with his eyes closed. Muttering some Asirnil couldn't here. Then he looked up.
" The cook killed himself."
