Julius heaved. Or more accurately, the boat heaved. But the ramshackle sloop he’d chartered passage on had far more experience than he did on these open ocean waters, and if it was going to heave, clearly heaving was the thing to do and who was he to argue with it. His medical training told him it was a simple imbalance of internal fluids. His mixed elven blood told him he was above such displays. And his feet told him that despite the surroundings, they were firmly planted on solid wood. Sadly Julius could hear none of those internal monologues over his resounding headache.
The crew had celebrated in typical seafarer fashion after the harrowing battle with the sea monster by breaking open several barrels of rum. Julius, lost in the moment and excitement had joined right in. Too much it seemed. It was only now to his dismay he learned that of the bountiful and varied supplies they had purchased with their winnings from the “festival catch” had included not one single bean of coffee. At that moment he would have gladly traded his entire suture kit for even a lukewarm mug of java.
Sadly, that was not an option. Steeling himself against the sway, Julius went back below decks. his mercantile ability notwithstanding, his suture kit was sorely needed. The fight against the serpent had not been without injury. Nor for that matter had been the celebrations afterward. With a suppressed grin, Julius admitted the rag tag crew of the Chimera certainly weren’t what he expected.
At first he’d simply select the vessel that struck him least likely to ask questions about his destination or reason. But he quickly learned he was not the only person here who had that particular desire. And as it seemed his services were needed ere, perhaps he might see about staying on when next they make port. Provided they drastically reassess what constitutes vital provisions.