You can expect the next sketch story when I damn well post it. (Which is to say I've kinda given up on deadlines here, but I'm still trying to stick with creating cool things.)
Home
The spar was warm from the sun and there wasn't much that needed done, so she sat and sang idly. The sea was light and the ship surged, pulling for home, same as the crew.
As she sang, a song of harbour and home, the crew calmed. Hauling wasn't a bad life, better than some courses you could sail, but still, nobody wanted to sail the last stretch, everyone wanted to be home.
The was a fuss down on deck, those two sailors they'd picked up at Stoneille. She made to go down, but Jerin was there and knocked the two of them clean out. She shook her head, first job back home would be to make sure this was the last they saw of the sorry louts.
The crew on deck cleared the two trouble makers out of the way, dumping them on one of the coils of rope. Jerin trussed them up, then stalked among the crew.
They rounded the headland and the light changed, suddenly brighter, warmer. The city surged down from the hill, a riot of colour, blue and green, down into the plain, yellow and red and crashing white up onto the mountain. The roofs blended together as they poured down to the sea from there, mixing together and meeting at the docs.
"Ahoy," she shouted down, "It's home again."
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