The beetle's eyes, covered in a hexagonal mosaic of cinnabar, stare lifelessly at nothing in particular.
Does Altai want to read any more of the placard of chitin that he was working on before his rude interruption?
<Stig runs a silver toothed pick through his beard as he looks on.>
<Stig runs a silver toothed pick through his beard as he looks on.>
The beetle's eyes, covered in a hexagonal mosaic of cinnabar, stare lifelessly at nothing in particular.
"STOP EXPLODING OUR NEW SHIP DOWN THERE!!! It's bad enough we singed the sails and whatnot, but please! Have a care, by Mystra! Bloody idiots....I've taken to sea with a bunch of........*trails off*"
All eyes are on the wee halfling with the scimitar held aloft, trembling in his arms.....
"Stand down, Gittik. Also, let me undo this thing..." Altai waves a hand and dispels the enchantment on Beldan. "Welcome back to humanity."
The fleshlusthunger subsides.
“Whew,” says Beldan. “You know something’s wrong when Gittik starts looking like a tasty morsel …”
<Sniffs Beldan's ass to make sure he's still Beldan.>
Oso gently puts a hand on the halfling's shoulder, "the man says no....... for now."
"Meh, it OK. Anyway, next time me use adamantnit kukri - it cut better."
Oso nods to the barbarian in agreement. "Adamantnit is it."
Right on.....
the rest of your new "Santa Maria" is clear....what now, dashing adventurers?
Elgan, shaking with relief, goes out onto deck to breathe deeply of the salt air.
<Sniffs Beldan's ass to make sure he's still Beldan.>
"Tcha! Get out of it you."
Pip getting the all clear stoppers his potion and rejoins the group
"Phew"
Have fun in Belgium...
"Huh. I guess we'll sink the last ship after Oso says a few words over the bodies. Let's try to sail the Hellwind to our meetup spot." He wanders around the cargo hold for a while. "Here's a thought - we sail to the pirate base in the Hellwind. It's smaller and faster than our ship; more importantly, it has a reputation, and we'd look like right badasses if we sailed into the harbour on it."
Oso prays over each body as it slides into the deep. He makes sure than each is actually dead and weighed down with ballast.
Eventually he turns to Pip, "can the main man give them a farewell shanty or summat?"
The priest wipes away the grime and waits.
...
Eventually he turns to Pip, "can the main man give them a farewell shanty or summat?"The priest wipes away the grime and waits.
Pip strums Lucille
"Six fathoms down
My comrades lie
In Procan's realm
They rest a while
'Till Pelor sends a ship around
With golden hull and sails of blue
To gather up the righteous ones
And make them all his Blessed Crew."
Who's skipper o' th' Hellwind? Any partymembers aboard her? Like before, Tom suggests 5 of the 10 seamen work her, but they might need loiterers to pitch in both ships.
Elgan, being a natural at climbing and wotnot, admits that he would very much like to learn a little about sailing. He will be happy to pitch in on whichever ship the general consensus says he'd be most helpful!
As Altai is a (moderately) skilled sailor, he volunteers for duty on the new boat.
Rusty, th' orphan from the alchemist's manor, volunteers to skipper the tub. Everybody but Rusty thinks it's a bad idea; one of the ten hired salts'll throw in for that dubious task...an older, brillo-chinned codgery one. He doesn't have a pegled, but he is missing the big toe on his left foot.
Oso returns to the first ship and will work a shift or two, whatever the sailors want.
He doesn't know his stem from his stern but he will help wherever.
It's a hard grind, trying to sail two vessels under a skeleton crew for about 10 days.
The two tiny ships make it to the rendevous point, though, a little ways up a jungly river delta somewhere on the border of the Sea Princes and unclaimed Olman Jungle; the other raider ships made it about two days earlier. It's a well-deserved rest for a shaky group of shiprats who, due to lack of manpower, had to run 18 hour shifts to keep it all together.
It's hot and sticky here. The mosquitoes are unrelenting, especially at night. The temptation to open the beetle and crawl in occurs to all of you. Half the seamen think the thing is a Jonas, the others refer to the temperate weather during the whole trip, compounded by the fact that a flotilla of three yellowsails approached close enough to identify the Hellwind and broke away in three different directions...
Dainty mage's hands are shredded by ropework until the blisters don't form anymore and callouses remain.
Even the more physical fighters tug at ropes with muscles that they didn't know they had. Guts gunked with the spackle that is formed by hardtack, it's finally over.
Elgan grins upon seeing their destination. He flexes his weary muscles. He looks at a bicep, grins. Then sees Gittik, looks again. Frowns. Goes back to work.
The mosquitoes don't seem to bother him for some reason,...
I don't mean he ignores them, more like they ignore him.
Altai takes about 10 minutes off work every day to scour the beetle of warding spells. Other than that, his time is spent taking orders and hoisting sails.
There's about.....fifty of them. Altai eventually dismantles the outer covering of dispel magic.
The first panel, the one that Altai originally blew up, details one Oox Wab, king of the people, and his youth of training by the Witchknives of the Island to the East of the Sunrise....living off of the land, assailed by mad esoteric hermit senseis; and striving against the beasts of the jungle.
Earning the right to bear the jaguar's claws, and the shattershards. And wear the rainbow.
Some of it, though interpreted, loses any sense of meaning. The peoples' societal metaphors are as dust in the wind.
Once the bug's safe to handle, Altai gets a few burly lizardmen and has the thing carried ashore and set up under a canopy.
Once the bug's safe to handle, Altai gets a few burly lizardmen and has the thing carried ashore and set up under a canopy.
Naah, they don't know anything about it.
Maybe 3 or 4 days away.
Beldan’s been spending as much time as possible down in the hold, helping Altai with the bug, offering his services if anything needs to be searched or disarmed. His reasons are two-fold; one, this thing looks really valuable, and he wants to be in on that, and two; it gives him a reason to mooch off sailing. Turns out this life on the high seas gig is hard work. Bel’s not too bad when it comes to climbing, balancing on beams and tying knots, but all that hauling and running about and stuff is exhausting.
He’s glad when they reach the delta. “Alright, finally, let’s rest a day or two eh? And then … what was the plan from here? How close was this to that pirate base?”
You don't find any more traps...
The pirate base is about.....6 hours sailing distance, north east from the delta.
Pip helps out getting the ships in shape and he fine-tunes his satyrical Ballad of Cap'm Flamebritches.