Captain Miro studies Dibbets' dead midget. "Rum gremlins if I'm not mistaken. That explains the apparent rampant drunkenness at the start of the run. I guess I regret all those lashings now. They must have been hiding in the rum tuns we took aboard in Plumetown."
She sighs, "I don't know what the stranger wanted with a bunch of black dirt and I don't really care to know. We're still three days out of Plumetown if we can get moving again. What I do know is that I'm not interested in becoming one of those twisted dead things in the hold. It goes over."
She pauses to listen to the activity outside the cabin. "Speaking of which- ."
Dibbets cocks an ear as well...
Perception:
You hear men struggling below deck as Captain Miro steps out to check on their progress. It takes a while, but eventually the crates are on deck. Unfortunately, during this time the wind has becalmed and the sails hang slack as Captain Miro casts a troubled eye at the still too close mist shrouded rocks of the Glengarnies.
Wee Dibbets cocks his head hearing a distant sound over the labor of getting the crates out of the hold. Peering southwestward in the direction of the noise, he sees a pocket of mist moving steadily toward the Plumed Lady
Jim follows the captain on deck. "Nine Hells. It looks like your buyer's come calling, and no way for us to duck out the back door, hey? How deep is the water here--can we kedge?"
Not wanting to draw the Cap'n's attention just yet, Dibbs gives Dingus, Groomy and Kaul an elbow before jutting his chin to the Sou'West "Trouble's a brewin..." before remembering something gathered long ago. Pulling a bedraggled and oily feather from his bandolier he muses "Should we help her run... or do we get feckin dangerous?"
"That right there, might be a good way to see ourselves into the profit. We can get the boat into port or at least a mite closer, IF the negotiation do not take too long."
Mulling things over, Kaul chuckles menacingly
"hur 'elp her run fer the rights tae the dirt!"
Shrugging Dibbets replies "Fair enuff, lets get useful." stumping out on to deck. As he does he calls "Cap'n, if ye want tae keep ahead o' that scary patch o' mist o'er souwest... best ye order the lads tae lay out all the sail ye got." brandishing the feather afore him with twinkling eye, before continuing to the top deck and aft - back against the railings.
Captain Miro shakes her head at Jim's suggestion, "I'm not sure about the depth and we don't have the time anyway."
She gives the halfling a curious look, "You hiding the west wind up you sleeve? Let's see what you got." She orders all hands up top to set the sails.
Dibbets doesn't reply, merely setting his feet and bracing his back against the railing. When he's mostly happy with the sails set, he reaches out into the feather using the same thoughts that he does when seeking the indifference of the Skylord. Seeing within the feather the pent up energy, he ruptures the vessel and allows it to seep out and take effect.
Holding the pitifully small feather (even in his miniature hands) with both hands, he begins to swipe it from side to side in a grandiose and rhthymic motion. At first nothing happens... but then it can be seen that the feather grows larger and fans out in his hands with each swing of his arms. A faint stirring of breeze can be felt, growing ever stronger as the feathery fan swells in Dibbets hands. The crescendo builds slowly, but it is not long before the feather that Dibbets swings resembles the wing of a giant bird - a couple of meters in span and driving the halfling bodily into the railing at each explusion of wind.
At that point the magic of the fan comes into full force, and the feathery wing beats it's own cadence and does not need the halfling to provide any further encouragement. A stoic grimace sets on Dibbets face as he stands his ground, pinned against the railing by the back-thrust of the generated wind. The sails of the Plumed Lady swell and fill with the magical breeze and the ship is propelled forward.
The rising wind fills each sail, drawing the lines taut. With a manic grin on his face, Jim makes for the quarterdeck. A quick tap of his forehead in salute to satisfy tradition, and he's up and ready to take the wheel (should he be needed there).
Captain Miro gives Dibbets a nod of approval as the ship moves forward at a fair pace leaving the morsel of mist behind. She pats Jim on the back and sends him to relieve Rekello at the helm.
By the time the magical breeze flags, the Glengarnies have disappeared into the sunset and you are a third of the distance to the Smoker.
Dibbets accepts the nod stoically, it's taking a fair degree of effort for the wee one to keep a decent grip on the wing that beats relentlessly. Minutes blend slowly into hour upon hour of unceasing vigil. Three hours in he pisses himself, unable to stop for even a few minutes to conduct more genteel ablutions... but he holds on. After nearly eight hours of stoic vigil at the rails, the feathery wing begins to disintegrate into nothingness. Feathers break off and float away on the breeze as the wing slowly shrinks smaller and smaller.
Eventually all Dibbets is left with is a broken feather held firmly in his grasp. Every muscle in his small frame aches with exertion and it is all that he can do to tuck the broken feather jauntily behind an ear before he collapses onto his arse and leans against the railing behind him. Numb fingers find a flask from his bandolier and fumble with the cap, eventually managing to release it and send a flood of welcomingly burning rum down his gullet and into the empty pit of his stomach. A faint thought crosses his mind that he might be hungry... but it is a passing notion. A second snifter of the delicious produce of distilled sugarcane crosses his lips before his chin sags onto his chest - scraggly beard cushioning it somewhat... and he begins to snore.
Captain Miro shakes her head in bewilderment at the halfling's antics and then beckons one of the crew to take him below. However, upon catching a whiff of the potpourri of urine and other unsavory odors, she reconsiders that it might be better to let him air out on deck.
The sails are reefed a bit for night travel and watches set as the Plumed Lady slips by Garnet Island and the next day you pass around the north end of The Smoker with Plumetown spotted that evening.
Awakening later that evening, Dibbets sits up with a jolt - mind turned instantly to thoughts of terror and nightmare. Forcibly calming himself he looks down and feels much relieved - he'd managed to keep his flask upright when he passed out so he hadn't wasted any rum. A quick swig and returning the cap to flask, he extricates himself from the fetid puddle in which he sat and engages the assistance of some of the swabs who are up on the graveyard to give him a hand.
Repositioning a bilge pump on deck, Dibbets gets the lads to pump away and drench him in the freshly scented briney blue. Soaked to the gills and shivering slightly he gives the crewmen a lopsided grin and thanks before stumping away in search of food.
Come the day following he spends some time aloft, talking to the wind and himself until Plumetown comes into view. Grinning he monkey's down the rigging from the top to the main deck and finds lass. Tipping his imaginary hat he greets her "Cap'n"
Kaul keeps a vigil over his wee mate's slumber, then follows him on deck. However in place of Dibb's lopsided grin, the thug prowls the tub like a hungry jigsaw shark - searching for a Half Inch to terrorise when the opportunity presents...
:
Watching Dibbets and his captive vermin. the Groom poses to the Captain, "I still have the question of where did the Gremlins come from? They your typical stowaway?
Plumetown hunkers down under the ominous presence of Mount Keeba, the active volcano that gives the island known as the Smoker its name. Just over a thousand souls inhabit the village and numbers fluctuate as seekers arrive and leave once they have met with the strange prophetesses that dwell within the volcano.
Captain Miro shrugs at the Groom's query and peers at the carcass Dibbs' sports, "Who knows? Not typical, no. Just more bad luck, I suppose."
"You lot have been a great help to me. If you don't mind waiting a few days in Plumetown while I take care of some business, I wouldn't mind taking you on to Freeport. I'm more likely to find better seamen there than here. Of course, if you're not too tired of being at sea I wouldn't mind bringing you on more formally."
Half-hitch has taken care to keep himself hidden and out of the way during the remainder of the voyage only creeping out after you're safely in port.
During the latter part of the journey, after his deck based brine bath - Dibbets seeks out the rum midget to have a few words. "Now are ye gonna play nice? Or do I need tae speak dirty?"
Swigging from one of his flasks, freshly rejuvenated from one of the bottles he filched from below Dibbs eyes the Captain "Aye Cap'n? Even wiv our disrespectin of orders an the like?" eyeing her to get a read on whether it's admiration or desperation driving her thoughts...
Sense Motive:
..."We also got some unfinished business needs attendin... first in Freeport, then with the feckers who marooned an almost killded us. You up fer that as well?"
His eyes look hungrily towards the town... it's been too long since he passed out on the floor of a tavern... and he was hoping to rectify that tragedy.
Kaul scowers the ship for his second favourite half-a-ling...
:
... but to no avail...
The no-neck brute ambles over to Dibbs and his conversation with the Cap'n - listening intently fer a while before chipping in his two lashes worth;
"Hur... Disrespectin' an' dangerous too mind Cap'n - hur-hur... but we is good tae have around fer a tight spot... And I fer one 'll behave if ye let me have Finn's man... Pressgangers honour hur-hur-hur-hur..."
:
"Aye. Definitely interested in sticking around till Freeport. How that business goes down, will see to whether we are available for future voyages. As Dibbs says...we have a bit of wet blade work to take care of first."
"Freeport"! "Freeport"! "I never thought I'd say this, but I long for that chaotic pit of sin".
Captain Miro shakes her head and Dibbets senses a mix of both appreciation and desperation in her offer. "If you've got a black spot or blood vengeance planned, it's not my fight. I have more than half a mind to go legit after all my recent trouble.
"As far as that other little man. I'd half forgotten him and again that's not my fight, but I'll not see it played out aboard the Plumed Lady. Of course, if you catch him ashore, that's your business, not mine."
As you near the dock, there's a splash and the aforementioned seldom seen figure of Half-Hitch is now found in the sea frantically swimming for the shore.
Dingus' finds no magical auras beyond your own gear. The two remaining green-haired gremlins are battered and unconscious, but still alive.
Dibbets calls "Kauly... take the head off that'n." calling on his half-orcen friend to end the life of one of the buggers. The other he sees secured with rope and bound as tightly as he can muster... though he makes no attempt to wake it yet.
Dibbets watches Half-Hitch's dash for freedom and turns to Kaul to see what his follow up is. Wonder if Finn'll hold it against us iffin his midget gets killed...
Fort Save:
Dibbets feels surprisingly wobbly on his feet as he finds the little pink mannikin under the coils of rope where he left him. The thing scowls back at him through red rimmed eyes. "What do you want, Sh-crubby?" it slurs in a high pitched voice.
Dibbets unscrews the cap on his flask and offers the wee midget a snifter "Seems we gots off tae a bad start. I'm Dibbets... an I like bein drunk. Yer a green haired muppet... but ye make me feel drunk." taking his flask back and giving it a slug. "I'm sorry we hads tae kill yer pals, but ye did try an gut me... Shimple question, do ye wants tae keep livin?"
The little rummer greedily laps up the offering and seems a bit more coherent. "Thanks for the nip. I can't think straight when I'm sober. I reckon living is better than dead. Why do you ask?"
Dibbs waxes lyrical "Well far as I sees it, we's two of a kind... cept I'm prettier... an bigger." offerin the wee one another nip o' rum "Pity bout yer kin.. but ye did knock me about a bit like - what wiv tha potaters, then the rope, the the floor, then yer claws n bits... then the rope agin." shaking his head as he remembers "Anyways, I ain't one tae hold grudges like, so I'll make ye an offer... I'll keep ye in grog... long as I got some tae share, an ye tag along fer tha ride. There'll be more'n enuff time fer fun an games - an I'll not force ye tae do aught ye not likin" looking the demented muppet in the eye "Either that or we cast ye loose tae make yer own way - wiv no-one lookin out fer ye."
Dibbs rubs the mass of scar tissue on his leg to ease the aching and finishes up "Any rate, think it o'er like"
With a malevolent grin, or is that just how the thing smiles?, the odd little grogite nods, "Sounds alright to me , bub."
Dibbets smiles, before loosening the grommet's bonds enough to get a hand free. He then spits in his hand and offers it for a shake to seal the deal.
Looking on bemused, Kaul cups his nut...idol and mutters;
"Hur. Looks like Dibbs found hisself a wee soulmatey eh Tum? Reckon we could train it tae bring you stogies and drams?? hur-hur-hur!?"
Still grinning a grin that would make a lesser mortal nervous, the green topped munchkin shakes Dibbets hand. Tum-bobo looks less than impressed, "No good come o' that. Little rummy drink ALL de booze."
"Oh-ho, me apostle, there go yo' friend o'er the rail swimming like de rat!" Tum-bobo remarks about Half-Hitch's escape.
Dibbs releases the grommet and grins Hopefully this isn't the worst idea I've ever had... there was that one time with a Chelish lass, three ducklings and a half-pint of Katapeshi hot-sauce....
He pays Half-Hitch's escape no mind, instead awaiting their arrival at the docks so as he can find the nearest tavern to get legless in.
Kaul grins his Mako grin;
"Hur... He'll keep Tum... We'll flush out the rat with some cheese once we're ashore...hur-hur-hur..."
The thug chuckles heartily to himself;
"...h-h-h-hur... Ashore I'm even worse fer that little slip... just wait an see..."
Jim watches the approaching dock with anticipation, marred only briefly by Half-Hitch's escape. He'll pitch in with the docking if needed.
The wind momentarily shifts, wafting bits of ash and the accompanying whiff of sulfur over the ship. Hm. The ladies of the volcano are supposed to be prophetesses. Maybe I'll pay them a visit, and we have the time. Though I have a few other ladies to meet first...just have to beware of those that turn into monsters. "Captain, how long do you plan on staying in port?"
the Groom listens to Jim's question and awaits the answer, an uneasy eye toward the volcano. He mutters under his breath, "Knowing our luck of late, it better be quick."
Without looking up to the Cap'n Dibbets adds to Jimmer's words "Long time or short, I'm choosin tae make the most ov it."
Dingus...sleeping late as usual, joins the others on the deck to look at the approaching port. He also sees everyone pointing at the escaping Half-Hitch, and raises his hands as though to cast a spell, then lowers them with a frown.
"I really have to start rising early". "Looks like I missed all the fun". "Wonder how he would have swam if he couldn't move". "Oh well, he's too far away now".
I do hope this is a pleasant, and crisis free shore leave...but for some reason I doubt it". Dingus then smiles as Richard makes his way on deck as well. "Well at least I wasn't the last to rise".
Half-Hitch unfortunately makes the dock and drags himself up a ladder to quickly make his dripping way along the dock pausing only to glance back at his former companions and offer a rude gesture as he disappears into the city. Few on the dock notice the wretched halfling as they hurry about their business.
Miro looks at Jim and you sense a melancholy air as she ponders, "Well, I have a few things to attend to and we'll likely be short a few crew again as several have already told me they'll not sail on the Plumed Lady again. Say four, five days. Just keep near the docks. I recommend you stay at the Crab Pot Inn. That will make it easier for me to find you."
"Oh, and I'd appreciate you unloading those boxes of black rock right now. There's plenty of warehouses around here. It's yours to sell off though I don't know who'd want it and be careful you don't attract any unwanted attention. This was where the stranger first approached me about acquiring it in the first place. I think you'd be better off dumping it in the harbor personally."
Then it's a flurry of activity as the ship is moored fast and disembarkation begins.
Tipping his hat "Much obliged Cap'n" before turning to the more bemuscled of his companions "Whats the rub wi' tha dirt then like? Ya reckon ye could sniff out a buyer Groomy?"
Kaul fumes as he watches Half Inch's defiance with murderous intent...
"Hur. Reckon we get the dirt unloaded quick and proper... Agree Groomy is best placed tae find someone tae buy deader dirt. Per'happin Dingus with him?"
As he starts to lug the boxes, the thug add coldly;
"I've bad business with Finn's slip. Best keep out o' it boys, that way I take the blame back in Freeport... 'sides I aim to make an example o' him..."
"Aye, Groom and Dingus are best for the task. Kaul, best you keep eyes out behind, if it happens that Finn has resources here."
"Alright. I'll keep the weather-eye out for some fool interested in Deader Dirt. First we will need a space to set the crates. A warehouse that asks few questions."
Dibbets assists the Groom as and where he can, though from the fidgets and complaining it's clear his heart isn't in it. After the dirt is safely stored, Dibbs looks up with puppydog eyes to the Groom and asks "Ken we get tae the shore leave now boss?"
Mischevious grin upon his face and picking up his new friend along the way to ride shot-gun on his shoulder - Dibbs stumps purposefully towards the Crab Pot Inn. But when he is within a few yards of the door, he stops and turns to his green haired partner in liquid debauchery and asks "What's yer name?"
" Sure". "What harm can come from selling a little dirt".
the Groom quickly finds a nondescript warehouse that could care less what's stored there as long as the money is paid. They want 10 sails a week no questions asked.
Outside the Pot, the gremlin introduces himself as Smeekit.