Studying the massive half-orc that addresses her, the young woman remains stoic-- her angular eyes searching him over, her mouth remaining set in a distant calm that transcends the pain that must surely sing out at every motion.  She measure out lengths of rope with what must be experienced hands, though she certainly doesn't possess the strut or the glare of a city-raised wharf girl.  She gives a small nod to Beriana at his greeting, and offers her name in the even, rustic timbre known at the inner sea.  "Mahle," she says, the last syllable rising slightly as if there is more to follow.  She shows little expression, tilts her face only slightly, and continues coiling the rigging rope across her palm, over her elbow, again-- again, making smooth coils.  "I wish to see no one fight," she says softly, her eyes flicking almost imperceptibly to the man with the whip.  "Some are anxious to make an example."<br/><br/>She wraps the hitched rope from off her shoulder in six or seven good coils round the midsection, then tucks the loose end and lays the rope for their overseers' inspection.  She glances up once, furtively, at Beriana as her orders are barked out--<i>"Aaarrright then, ya mossy monkey, shinny your ass up those riggings 'fore I put a boot in your cunt!"</i>She nods in understanding at the command, tying her robes at tight knots where possible to keep the loose, gauzy fabric from entangling her on her climb.  She turns away, hesitating only long enough to show that she's not afraid as she passes by the foul-mouthed pirate, herself a head taller than him.<i>At least, from up here, I can watch the sea,</i>she thinks.  If only she could swim to shore from here...<br/><br/>That would have to wait.  For the better part of the afternoon, she handles her ropes well, keeping her long limbs wrapped around the poles despite the unavoidable splinters and burning tar that sting her skin... she's clearly not dressed for the work, lacking the work material of her captors.  The pain's not so bad, and when eases down the masts, her hands are swollen and bloodies from forcing pulleys to unjam, working knotted hemp ropes that are frayed with salt air and age, from clinging to cross-beams and hitches to swing out and grasp at belayed ropes.  The swelling's gone down considerably from the bashing she took earlier-- the salt air, perhaps, doing her some good, but she longs to leave the deck and the rigging  and touch, for just one moment, the frothy water that surrounds her.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Profession check:   39864   Noone or Anyone   2012-07-16 19:03:17   At 2012-07-16 19:03:17, icsyhyat (uid: 768) rolls: 1d20a6 Result: 15 (http://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=39864)<br/>Climb check:   39863   Noone or Anyone   2012-07-16 19:01:30   At 2012-07-16 19:01:30, icsyhyat (uid: 768) rolls: 1d20a5 Result: 17 (http://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=39863)</div></div>