<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">Red Leadson</span></span><br/>Weapons Master Red Ledson was busying himself with calculating the number and type of ammunition and weapons that were necessary to be bought as soon as the<span style="font-style: italic">Steele Maiden</span>landed when he heard a knock on the door. Most men on the ship who were under him in rank called to him through the tubes, the metal vocal tube system that ran through the ship, and most men above him would have entered only after a polite knock. There was only one man Red knew on board that was both gentlemanly enough to knock, but humble enough despite his position to not barge in anyway. Red lifted himself from his cramped desk, nearly hitting the ceiling as he stood, and reached over and opened the door, saluting as he did so.<br/><br/>"Captian." He said before lowering his salute but still standing at attention. "I have just finished the calculations and reports for our small arms. We have need of half a dozen new long rifles, four standard pistols, three cases of bullets and one shoulder strap." He counted them off with quick, military precision, not missing a single item on the list but still able to keep the report under a few seconds. He awaited the next order.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">Gabriel</span></span><br/><br/>Gab strained against the rope on his back to move the load on the cart behind him and cursed under his breath as he came around the corner. He looked up and cursed not-so-under his breath as he finally saw the<span style="font-style: italic">Lady</span>, but it was still a good dozen yards away. It was partially his own doing, the heavy load on his back. He was always eager to please the Captain, whom he looked up to with admiration if nothing else, and so had agreed to get the heaviest thing on the list, even with a cart: Drinking water.<br/><br/>Over a dozen water barrels stacked high on a borrowed wagon like contraption that didn't do its job well were almost more then the young man could manage, even for one as strong as he was now. The<span style="font-style: italic">Lady</span>was just like any normal ship, she didn't exactly pull water out of the air, and the ocean water was always around to taunt you with it's un-drinkable wetness, so water was an essential item to stock up on whenever possible, which made it exactly the job that Gab wanted to do for the Captain, even if it meant more of a workout then he normally would have to deal with. Gab slowly made ground with the creaking wooden thing and just hoped the wheeled thing could last the few more yards it had to make.<br/><br/>"Come on you smarmy, termite ridden pile of rot!" Gab muttered to himself, "You can do it you bastard of a cart."