Singing in the Rain

 

Ritter had grown to despise the night. It seemed like all the things that wanted to harm him loved the night.

He stood outside the tavern, a thatched building just outside the outpost's main gate. The townies said it had been burned down a few times, but not recently. Not since the Jirrahs had arrived.

Cold rain was falling, and the sun was mostly gone.

"I love the rain," Coriander said beside him.

"I suspect a dryad would," Ritter groused. The tall, leafy creature next to him rumbled with mirth.

"It is delicious."

"It is cold," Ritter said.

"I love the cold," Coriander said.

Did anything bother this placid creature? "Well, there's plenty of that tonight." A large raindrop magically found its way under his collar and down his back. He raised his woolen hood in disgust.

"When I was small, barely your size, we would throw enormous parties when the monsoons came." Coriander raised his arms and closed his deep green eyes. A slight smile bent the bark on his face.

Ritter heard movement from the outpost behind him. Two shapes emerged from the gloom.

"You are relieved, m'boys." It was Captain Droth. Right on time. Pirates might be a dicey bunch, but this one was at least punctual.

A tall orc stood beside him. "Ceeeth here too," he said unnecessarily. "Ritter fix?" He turned sideways to show a broken buckle on his boiled leather armor.

"I told you, it will last longer if you take it off before you go mating," Ritter said as he untied his toolkit wrapped in a canvas roll.

"She too dangerous. Ceeeth good at mating, and she go crazy." He pointed to a long scratch on his neck that ran down to join the front of his armor.

"You want some of this?" Coriander held his dripping arms out to Droth.

"No thanks. I'll get my own," Droth said merrily. "It ain't sea spray, but it'll do."

As Ritter and Coriander walked back to the outpost to sign out with the Sergeant of the Guard, Ritter heard Droth start whistling a sea ditty about drunken sailors. Then he started singing, and the mirth in his voice reminded Ritter of many a celebration when loot and rum were handed out after a successful mission.

"Oh! What do you do with a drunken sailor, what do you do with a drunken sailor, what do you do with a drunken sailor early in the moooorning?"

"Give to Ceeeth," the orc replied.

"Shave his belly with a rusty razor, shave his belly with a rusty razor, shave his belly with a rusty razor early in the morning!"

"Should wear armor like Ceeeth."

"Way hay and up she rises, way hay and up she rises, way hay and up she rises early in the morning!"

"Who she? Sailor is a girl?" Ceeeth asked.

Droth ignored him. "Oh! What do you do with a drunken sailer, what do you do with a drunken sailer, what do you do with a drunken sailor early in the moooorning?"

"Give to Ceeeth," the orc insisted. "Ceeeth fix him."

"Put him in bed with the captain's daughter, put him in bed with the captain's daughter, put him in bed with the captain's daughter early in the moooorning."

"Captain will be mad," Ceeeth said, working out the nuances of human interactions. "Captain will kill drunken sailor. See, he should wear armor all time. Like Ceeeth."

The song and commentary continued, fading as the heavy door to the weapon shack closed behind Ritter. He passed a row of shiny breastplates hung on the wall, ready to don if the bandits same back. And they always came back.

To his surprise, his reflection was smiling.

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