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Dibbets removes something brown and sticky from the rear of his kilt and there is only a slight sense of relief to find that it is in fact, a stick. He verifies that it is a wand that was long, long ago removed off a mangled traitor recently run over by a halfling in a mine cart deep in the Mwangi Expanse.
Despite not looking particularly hygienic, its magic may still be good and Dibbets gives it a try.
Dibbs gives the wand a wiggle and a wave and mutters "Ooga boogie"
Corliss takes an assessment after Dibbets' unconventional treatment. He finds that though he still feels horrible and has a headache, the heat of the fever has lessen slightly though it will still take a night's rest to get back up to full speed.
He analyzes the symptoms aloud to Dibbets: headache, flushed skin, fever, irritability. It rings a bell ( not an Eloko bell though) with the wind oracle: Brainboil. The affliction first spread through Freeport orcs through the consumption of tainted meat pies and later linked back to Whitecoat. At least, it's not the fast acting strain that lead to ferocious plague zombies.
Corliss decides that he'll be more use once he's fully recovered and retires to his hammock.
Still somewhat concerned by events, Dibbs co-opts Kaul into a bilge to crow looksee about the vessel just to make sure there ain't aught else untowards.
Wary of what unmentionable Dibbs' might pull forth from his grotty kilt next, Kaul agrees and undertakes the thorough search in earnest;
Kaul starts in the hold where the white creep was found. He works through the night keeping a sharp eye on the occasional furtive rat that darts in between the crates. All he finds are the same crusty vials scattered near the gnome's last stand among the casks of rum and water.
Corliss seems recovered the next morning, but the crew is worse. Nine of the sixteen under the priest's supervision have worsened over the night. Though all complain of headaches, the worse off now fall into fits of paranoia and rage, spitting as they curse others around for imagined slights. In addition, five more crew have begun to complain of headaches and fever.
:
Kaul digs around looking for clues, but gets little change for his efforts - until Lopper offers a suggestion.
The thug pauses and nods, then takes his thoughts to the crew left standing;
"Hur. Nothin' much to be found, some o' the white basterd's paraphernalia. Lopps reckons it could be spreadin' from the ratters runnin' around... or maybes soaked into the timbers..."
Jim comes down with the sail ailment as Corliss, but hides it for the most part as he goes about his duties. On the second day however, it is quiet clear that the normally even-keeled sailor is suffering the brainboil as he is flushed and surlier as Dibbets on rum rations.
Fortitudinous:
Dibbets remains hale and hearty, swearing to any crewman that offers half an ear that gargled seawater helps to stave it away. He makes for Corliss querying "Best ye gets wi' what tha Drowner's offrin... otherwise things're goan get awful squiffy roun ere"
Kaul eyes Jimmer with a fleeting look of concern, then double takes at Dibbs' rumbling a whisper as he does;
"This ain't one o' yer tricks on Ol' Kauly is it? Gettin' 'em all to act all sick like!?"
The scarred brute wanders to a vantage where he clocks the bobbin' barrel;
"Reckon we need to reel the white-rat in skipper! 'E's the cause an' most likely 'e can cure!"
Corliss fights off the ever-present contagion and surreptitiously uses remove disease spells on Jim and any other officer to come down with the disease. He then sets himself to going amongst the infected crew, treating them with more mundane remedies .
Corliss has recovered the next day and sets about tending to the crew. Captain Drake remains hale as does the lesser Drake, but of the Bloody Fortune's future crew: Lola and both halflings, Ed and Ella suffer the shipboard plague. Corliss gives Jim a tap of the wand and sends him back to his hammock. Then he works his way through the crew in what was the sleeping quarters, but with the amount of sick, the remaining healthy now sleep on deck.
Captain Drake nods to Kaul's wisdom. "We're getting severely short crewed at this point. I appreciate our priest doing what he can, but we've got to do something more before things get worse."
A few of the remaining unafflicted crew pull in the barrel and pry off the top to reveal the slightly thinner, but characteristically pale gnome inside. "Are we in Freeport already?" Whitecoat asks with no particular interest.
"Not exactly. Don't try to claim you know naught of what's happening; it doesn't become you. What's your price?"
Jim's roused himself enough to oversee the questioning. Whitecoat nearly smiles at the question. "Price? How transactional of you... are you sure that you haven't served with the Consortium?" The slight pale form rasps and then breaks into a dry cough. "Perhaps some water to start?"
Dibbets scowls as the white bastard is brought aboard, spitting phlegm over the side into the salt and letting the others speak for the ship.
Kaul fetches the pale gnome a ladle of water, offering it with a hard scowl;
"Hur. Pestilence is loose amongst the crew. Your doin'. Best be undoin'..."
Whitecoat drains the ladle and nods, acquiescing. "Yes, but I want to be released. I am through with the Aspis Consortium. I'll cause you no further trouble. Release me on some island and I will spend my days in glad isolation with my studies."
Corliss continues to tend to the sickened crew, leaving the interrogation of Whitecoat to those who know the little creep best.
Dibbets begins to growl susurrant and low, keeping a keen eye to both the Cap'n and Jimmer to discern whether they're taking the white bastard's offer serious-like.
Captain Drake scowls in annoyance. "At this point marooning him and getting his pestilent air as far from my ship as possible strikes me as a decent bargain, but I've said he's your prisoner." He looks to Jim and Kaul for a decision.
Still feeling his recent illness, Jim looks pale and wordlessly waving off the inquiry returns to his hammock to rest. Kaul just chuckles and plays with his ax. Captain Drake sighs and tugs at one end of his mustache. "We're not far from some uninhabited islands at the north end of Kepre Dua. I don't think anyone would be much interested in landing there and if the gnome decides to seek help from the neighboring elves, I expect he'll get a very unfriendly welcome from what I've heard of their elf witch leader."
Kaul shrugs;
"Settin' the wee whiter loose makes sense only iffen' he cures the plague."
The captain nods, turning the question to Whitecoat, "You'll remove your plague curse how?"
The bleachling stares dully back, "Once you get me ashore, I'll call off every rat aboard like the fabled rat piper of lore."
The captain shakes his head in capitulation and orders any able body up into the riggings or at the lines to turn the ship ESE to the isles near Kepre Dua.
No sooner has the skelton crew working the sails begin executing the turn than Syncopit calls out from the crows nest that there is an object broad on the starboard bow.
Kaul squints in the general direction of Syncopit's call trying to discern more;
:
Dibbs makes for the rigging and seeks ascension within - requesting Syncopit point out the object in question...
Kaul can make out something in the water at the designated spot, but no details. Dibbets heads aloft and drawing on his magical farsight, can make out what it is: an unconscious elf in tattered finery lies unconscious upon a large bit of flotsam.
Corliss takes a moment from his ministrations to the ill to come up on deck to see what all the fuss is.
Calling down from the summit Dibbs regales "Pointy eared bastard cast adrift an floatin... request we change tack an pick tha bugger up"
"Kaul, ready the jolly once we close. Corliss, go along to render aid." The ship slowly draws nearer and the small craft is launched to row over to the prostrate form upon the planks. The elf is unconscious and unresponsive, but alive.
Kaul does as bid, but looks balefully at the prone elf;
"Seems a mite suspicious tae me skipper. I says throw 'em back to the sharkies and crabs."
The other sailors look a little uncertain of Kaul's musings as the captain seemed to have ordered a rescue. They look to the sea priest/surgeon for guidance...
Corliss seems pretty tired between fighting off the illness and then battling it non-stop in the crew. He's managed to retain his sense of humor, however.
Turning to Kaul he grins and says, "How 'bout I give 'im the good news 'bout his miraculous rescue at sea an' you tell 'im the bad news that he's been rescued by a plague ship, eh?"
The hands drag the elf aboard for Corliss to inspect. Corliss finds no signs of violence other than a couple bruises. The elf appears to be suffering from severe dehydration. Elves aren't known for their hearty disposition and this one has apparently succumbed to several days adrift without a drink of potable water.
The jolly is rowed back to the ship and all stand around the fainted elf after the lifeboat is secured. The captain gives the prostrate form a push with the toe of his boot and then pats Corliss' shoulder. "Looks like another patient. Get him doused proper and let me know when he's up." He orders the castaway carried below while the ship gets underway again.
Corliss gives a quick nod to the captain, and once the fellow's belowdeck casts create water and slowly trickles some H2O into the elf's mouth.
Kaul nods at Corliss, then taps Lopper's handle with a mako grin;
"How 'bout ye tell 'im the good news that he's saved, an' the bad news that we couldn't save 'is leg hur-hur-hur..."
The thug makes a chopping motion at the elf's knee with a bloodthirsty leer...
Corliss drips water into the unconscious elf's mouth slowly and then goes back to tending the sick crew circling back to provide a little more water in the hopes of reviving the elf. Meanwhile, the ship faces a bit of a head wind and sails close-hauled making slow progress toward the still distant shore.
It takes most of the day to draw near the island. The sun approaches the horizon and the wind shifts to the south at the final approach. There's a slight push to shore from the flowing tide. The elf has finally roused some and half-awake groans something. Corliss draws near to hear the repeated words, "red... blood red..."
Kaul still hovering around at the fleeting prospect of dismemberment, scowls and growls toward Corliss;
"What's that the long ear is sayin' mate?"
Jim pulls himself together enough to look over the elf. "What's he got on him? Anything?"
Kaul's lurking about the sick room like a hungry vulture seems normal, but Jim wonders if perhaps Dibbets is coming down with the malady when they all notice that indeed, the unconscious elf retains a few treasures: namely, an amulet and two rings, one with a tasteful aquamarine and the other a bronze signet ring.
As if alerted by the attention given his last worldly possession, the elf at that point blinks his eyes open and grasps at his side for a blade that likely lies at the bottom of the sea. "Where?! Where am I? Who are you?"
Sun blanched and vacant expression snaps as the elf comes to, the halfling holding up gnarled and warding hands "Easy now ye daft bugger... we's what's picked ye up frae tha salt - sun blanched an water shy. Take a span an rest up... we ain't fer wantin ye deads or we'd o' done it all ready like... hows bout ye back up tae tha red an blood red..." pausing a moment before he realises he should respond to the initial query as well "Oh.. an I be Dibbets, thas Kauly, Madman... ain't got a nickname fer this'n yet but he be Corliss... an yer onna ship like eh?"
The elf looks weak, but takes sits up for another drink of water. "Ah, I'm famished. My name is Jacint LeFevre. My ship was destroyed near Kepre Dua by a blood red whale."
Before he can explain further, there are shouts from above. A mate leans through the hatch to relay the warning. "Big Red Whale heading for the ship!"
Jacint gives a choking cry and faints.
Disinterested in the elf, Kaul's interest piques at the mention of a blood red whale, then grins as the warning of such a creature approaching is given;
"Hur... Either the whaley likes to dine on ships... Or the longears is an albatross... I says lean to the latter and chuck 'em to Big Red!"