♬♞
Drogan Anvilsong
Phedron Rushing
♬♞
"Kidge is miscreant of a gnome who owns the only sundries shop on Golsifar. He thinks it gives him license to charge ridiculous prices." Velryssa responds. "Of course that's not the real reason."
"Gots it good with the local Phalanx outpost, they muscle for 'im. He charges what he likes." Indrik adds.
"Golsifar is best left behind you. Focus on doing business with the local caravan guild, the Wisterix Brothers."
She makes to continue but the half-orc Kraken appears at the stairs announcing all hands on deck. "We can discuss more later..." Those crew in the quarters awaken and Velryssa and Indrik depart upstairs with them.
Shortly after, the rest of the party descend the stairs carrying an unconscious man that sewn appear to be appear nine from the crew. They eye Drigan and Phedron as they descend further to the second crew quarters.
So much intrigue for one night. He would have to see about talking to the exotic woman later. There's more to hear of that tale, and he aimed to know what it was.
When the fellows pass with the unconscious man, Drogan calls out to Karl, "Oy, Marsh! What you fish up there? Do ya have need of me, or you able to take care of 'im with a field dressing or two?"
The man didn't look like a member of the crew. Where'd he come from? Another half-told story. Drogan finishes his drink and heads to meet them in the hall.
Nosa answers for Marsh.
This one was found on wreckage floating in the water. He is wounded and could use aid.
He gently sets the wounded man down on a nearby cot, then turns to Marsh.
He leans in low.
I saw what you did and so did the captain. I hope that you have more on your mind than simple theivery.
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"Any sign of what caused the wreck? Any other survivors?" he asks, turning to Nosa. The call for all hands on deck has heightened Phedron's wariness. He lets his caution slip through his bond to Caster.
Not being knowledgeable about healing arts or sciences, he only observes.
He has many questions in his mind at this moment. Is this wreck just a happenstance or is it a warning of evil in the area. Suddenly his jacket feels heavier, the weight of the book whispering some dread.
Karl's buzzard like eyes searches his companions for any sign of reaction after giving Nosa a quizzical look.
"I suppose your order was more bent towards actual combat rather than cloistered learning eh?"
The comment was more of a statement than a question and is said with a more grudgingly respectful tone than condensation to the knight. With Nosa’s recent insight into events he feels that Karl is looking more deeply into him somehow.
”I’ve got holy men who can’t heal and bards that can. Well thank Desna for that. This man prays to the Pirate Queen and bears her ritual scaring, but we saved him from those very sharks he venerates and now he is our responsibility. . . Look here . . . see those? Those are ligature marks. This man was a prisoner. He literally wrecked his own limbs and joints to gain his freedom. I suppose any of us would do the same.”
”Yeah Drogan, lets get him secured a bit so he doesn’t call fire down on us or something and then give him a round of healing. The captain bid us to take charge of and care for this man and get some information out of him as well.”
”I don’t think we have any idea what caused the wreck, but there was some kind of fighting. This one’s wounds aren’t from any kind of natural water creature. These wounds here are mechanical in nature. The captain wants to set sail within the hour. Let’s get this one roused and talking.”
”Lavios, run up and find out from the navigator if there was anything around here for a ship that size to break up on come back and tell me what you found out. Then I want you to scurry up to the nest. I want our own set of eyes up there.”
The Andoran wizard reaches out with his senses to communicate with his familiar. Caster returns his normal grousing but complies. Phedron's midsection gives a tickle as he senses the hawk take flight.
The air beckons...cool wind in his face and eyes...the moon above hidden behind cloudy plumage but offering enough of her silvery illumination for Caster to observe the goings on below.
Impatience and superiority. Caster feels these things as he watched two of the two-legs of the ship push and pull their floating perch through the water. There above are dead things in the water, human and like-human, nothing after which Caster feels it beneficial to get above are morsel of meat.
Admiration. There are swimming things, these he understands better as they patrol their range, searching for food. They use the dead humans as bait...two-legs are prone to save their own, even if they've soared their last thermal.
Surprise and Curiosity. A closer look at the dead humans as he flies in low. Caster anticipated biting and gnashing as the swimming things bit at them. But there are human bites... . These did not breath the water and die, nor die by the swimming things' teeth.
Drogan looks at the paladin with a smile and a wink, "Don't mind him. He gets cranky on long voyages filled with shipwrecked drifters and intrigue. Give us a tick an' I'll have 'im up again."
The dwarf pulls a piece of thread from the spool in his pouch. He is about to begin his recitation when the figurine catches his eye. "Hello, what's this now? Is that his? Course it is. None a' these lads seems keen on Mwangi luck charms."
Drogan puts the thread down besides the man. He should be fine enough to last a bit more. He's not quite at Death's door so much as strolling up the walk.
Can I have a look at that? I think I know what it is."
Nosa turns to Phedron.
No idea what caused the wreck, but it seemed that there may have been others less lucky than this one in the water.
He then looks at Marsh and surprsingly bursts into laughter, somewhat of an unsual sound from the young Paladin.
He claps Marsh hard enough on the shoulder to rattle his teeth.
You have finally discovered that subterfuge is not my strength! I had hoped to dupe you a little longer yet!
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☀♆☦♜♬♞
Drogan Anvilsong
Phedron Rushing
Nosatrub Shieldarm
Beckett Foxglove
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
☀♆☦♜♬♞
Linkah hops down from the crate on which he'd been seated, looks to follow but pauses. He spins am sweeps up his winnings from the pot and slips the coins into his hip pouch. "Goh, wait'll Corvim 'ears I once o'ered a pretty from Tian Xa in Liar's Fives..." The halfling turns back and bounds down the stairs to the second quarters to join the group.
Behind the grinning halfling, Agidor takes a more casual pace. But at the mention of nautical mishaps, his attention perks up.
As the party works collectively to ascertain and set bandages and magics to the Mwangi man's wounds, they feel the Landless Gentry shift beneath their feet. The unmistakable sound of the anchor's crank being turned reverberates throughout the hull.
"Guess we're leavin', eh?" Linkah says, thrusting his thumbs into his vest pockets. He bounces on the balls of his feet and raises his eyebrows at Nosa's joke. "Oy, so we gotta paladin what can Crack a smile..." He laughs in Karl's direction. "...there's hope for ya yet, Marshy."
"You say this chap's callin' for the Pirate Queen, mate?" Agidor makes the sign of the Lucky Drunk over his heart and whistles. "Either he's black-blooded pirate himself...or judging by the bits o' charms n' pendants on his person, bloke's maybe a priest over some sort." Agidor shakes his head and finds and seat on a nearby trunk. "Better have a hold of him of he wakes. Priests o' Besmara got a mean streak...n' most of 'em captain their own boats."
Linkah steps over to the unconscious Mwangi and stoops down, hands planted in his knees. "Gohr, bet he'll be all shades o' bloody awful when he wakes, eh? Marshy says 'is ships done in, right?"
"Well I was trying to speak to you in another language, but suffice it to say we need to keep our business close to our chests."
"If this man was captain then a mutanny would account for his being tied up, but not the sinking of the ship. A mutinous crew usually likes something to sail around in, maybe his ship was sunk by pirates and he was taken as prisoner, I don't know? We will bind him up in any case, hands in front. It's firm, but humane. We can get him in a hammock and tie him in if he gets rowdy."
Karl cups his hand so the other party members can see what he has.
"A measure of a man can sometimes be found in his possessions. In this case I don't know if he has a figurine of a noble, celestial or simply a finger worn table top game piece in his pocket. Carved of ivory, young face, with a circlet or halo on his head, looks human. Ring a bell?"
"The captain saw me take it from him, but that's fine. I am playing it close. Call me paranoid, but when dealing with dark gods and evil cults I take nothing for granted. Everything happens for a reason until it can be proved it is simply a coincidence. The captain knows Nosa here is a paladin which buys us all some credibility, but also limits what she and the crew have to guess about us. I didn't want anyone to see this figurine thing until I understood what it was. We can show the captain later if it's nothing and give it back to our guest"
"What did you see up top Nosa? And how about your bird and what you gathered from the game?"
Drogan looks to Karl,
He rolls the figurine in his hand a moment before squinting to look at the details. Speaking just above a whisper, he says, "Gentlemen, let me introduce you to 'is Honored Highness, Prince Evan the Twice-Graced. Tossed about during an expedition, his ship was lost te the depths. So the story goes, only reason any 'a that crew lived te see another day was," holding the figurine high, "because of the the actions a' the prince here. It's a trinket carried by superstitious sea travelers to ensure safe travel. By the wear on this one - I'm guessin' our man rubs this thing ragged 'til land comes back into view. Even if 'e is a pirate - this one's prob'ly not worth givin' too much hassle about. Bind 'is hands to make doubly sure, but he'll probably be too scared to cause harm."
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Beckett, sitting on a worn crate, crosses his arms with a scowl.
Then he waves a hand toward the injured man.
"He may be as you say... But we know there is something with an evil taint in the hold of this ship!
The Inquisitor stands, pointing downward.
"I cannot stand here and suffer that thing to be!"
Adding avatars for the two npcs...
With the conversation shifting with the deck beneath his feet, Linkah scratches at his chin and moves towards the stairs leading up. After a moment listening, he looks to the others.
"Oy, ladies, ya wanna have a look-see below?" He gestures casually towards the other set of stairs leading down to the crowd hold. "Ain't but a bloke all by 'is onesies eh? Bet me winnin's here we can get by 'em an take take a peek at this dark dingus..." Linkah pats his hip pouch where he'd recently deposited his Liar's Fives winnings.
The guitarist interlocks his fingers and slays them out so his knuckles crack loudly. "He certainly won't no going anywhere, mate." Agidor points his chin at the unconscious Mwangi who has begun to stir, but is emitting the beginnings of a snore.
Agidor lays his guitar case on his hammock and drapes his arms across it lazily as he leans his weight. "There's so much fuss going on above, wouldn't take much to get into the hold." He looks in Beckett's direction. "You've got the bee in the breeches for it, mate. Wanna give it a go?"
"Goodie gum drops, finally something to do besides taking your coin..." Linkah winks in Drogan's direction, then he promptly angles for the steep stairs leading down. "I'll get 'im loosened up, eh?"
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"Now is the time to be sure. . . Let's do it. This will be a tightrope walk though."
Drogan scowls a bit at the halfling.
"Lead the way short stuff." He says, punching Linkah's shoulder.
"But someone needs te teach you not to gloat over yer winnin's."
The Halfling rubs at his shoulder but still grins anyway. "I'll stop flappin' when you lot stop losin'...ooo hahah!" He scamper down the stairs, his shrill laugh leading the way.
The steps take him to the cargo hold well ahead of the others. A narrow gangway leads to the small alcove and a single, oaken door. Along the gangway a single lantern hangs to light the path, another at the end illuminating the lone man assigned guard duty.
Linkah waves genially as he approaches and pipes up a greeting. "Hullo, longshanks! Whaddya know?" He scratches at his head and points straight up. "Why ya not wi' the other boffins, eh?"
The human at door rests a hand on the handle of a cudgel at his belt and frowns down at the new arrival, all attention on the noisy halfling.
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☀♆☦♜♬♞
Drogan Anvilsong
Phedron Rushing
Nosatrub Shieldarm
Beckett Foxglove
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
☀♆☦♜♬♞
All
Agidor bids a salute and a silent good luck to the party, electing to remain with Nosatrub in case their 'guests awakens.
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Below, bathed in the yellow lantern light outside cargo hold, Karl and Drogan and Beckett join their halfling confederate as he chats up the lone guard at the door.
"I ain't up there cuz, Indrik done me for last watch, ya bloody rascal." the guard, a human named Osmont, scratches at his stubbled cheek and shrugs. "Got the short shrift, I did. Whaddya doin' down 'ere anyways? Ya lookin' ta get press ganged?"
He doesn't seem irritated at this point, actually he appears glad for the company. The lonely hallway and alcove are dank and oppressive. But he does seem wary when he spots the three adventurers approaching.
"Oy, ain't a doins' down 'ere. Whaddya up for?" He places a hand back on the cudgel at his hip.
Karls eyes flick over the guard trying to get a quick feel for the man. He looked for signs of tattoos, scars and deformations like bowed legs to tell him the story of his life, but mostly into the man's eyes.
Karl surveys the man. Probably in his late twenties...dark brown hair with wisps of premature grey along the temples. He's got the tanned skin of a sailor, sure feet of a man borne to life at sea. The way he carries the cudgel, he looks like he could use it. But by his stance he doesn't look like he wants to.
The yellow lantern light reveals similarly colored teeth, a tobacco chewer, maybe worse.
His stance is protective, but a bit unsure. Maybe the captain doesn't normally post a guard down here, but with passengers on board...
"Have you heard a disturbance below?! It's Mr Osmont correct? Speak quickly now man there is already one sunken ship up above, I won't have it be this one as well!"
Karl turns and grips Lavios by the shoulder with intense earnest in his eyes and voice."
"Inquisitor! You are sure it is down these steps?"
Then before Lavios can even respond Karl turns his full intensity of command presence back on the 20 something yearold guard like a crusty master at arms would on a new recruit failing his first marching drill.
"Well! Are you deaf? I asked have you heard anything from below, there is an evil aboard your captain's ship and she needs to know the source of it! Speak!"
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☀♆☦♜♬♞
Drogan Anvilsong
Beckett Foxglove
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
☀♆☦♜♬♞
All
"I ain't supposed to let ya down there, sirs..." He moves to intercept Beckett, duty overcoming the doubt growing in his eyes. "Look, Cap'n says stay out for our own good, us lot knows ta give it a miss..." The hand he holds up to bar the way has a wooden trinket dangling by finely carved wood beads; the figure of an intricate leaf hangs and swings in terms lantern light. His eyes go to it and then over to Lavios. "Cap'n posts a guard 'ere cuz didn't know the cut o' your jibs...but ya got one o' the Stormbringers faithful with ya..."
His hand comes down, the carved leaf swinging into his hand owing to the precise measure of the beads. A sharp eye can spot the pair of carving knives at his hip.
After a moment of thought and a whispered prayer, he steps aside. "Right then, in with ya. There's a latern jus' inside ya can use...jus' speak well o' me with the Cap'n, eh?"
The door is heavy, but swings inward easily enough on oiled hinges. Inside, the air is dank and heady with the smell of the sea. One of you finds the lantern and sets it alight, yellow illumination spreading into the area. Crates and barrels and oiled sacks are tied down and fixed into secure positions to counter the roll of the ship. Onura is a tidy captain if anything.
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"You're doing the right thing son. We will tell her you have us your warning. There is an evil presence below that must be investigated."
As they are down the gangway.
"Lavios, while Mr. Beckett tries to pin point it, I need you to focus on detecting magic auras. We don't know what we are going to kick loose down here. Keep up your eyes sharp. We need to be quick, but safe as we can."
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☦♞
Phedron Rushing
Nosatrub Shieldarm
☦♞
Agidor moves to a waterskin hanging from the line holding up his hammock. He takes a sip and passes it to Nosatrub. "You know, I had a mind to think we'd drawn the long straw in this business, let the others sprawl about the belly of this boat." He shrugs and gives a nod to the stranger, bound at the wrists as a precaution. "But now I'm thinking we may be getting the interesting side of business, eh mate?"
The guitarist gives a nudge to Phedron, the wizard seeming to be in his own world since acquiring the linguist's tome. "Look alive, chummeroo, our guest may be looking for conversation."
The three look to the Mwangi survivor and see that he is indeed stirring. His hands, calloused and sure, begin flexing as though serving for something familiar but now gone. He frowns and licks his lips and the opens his eyes. He spies Nosatrub first, the paladin's tall frame hard to miss. Then he sees Phedron and Agidor in turn.
He studies all three men, remaining on his back and maintaining his composure. Then he finally asks. "Ki kote se sa a? Ki kote se ekipaj mwen an? Èske li dimanch maten byen bonè?"
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☀♆♜♬
Drogan Anvilsong
Beckett Foxglove
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
☀♆♜♬
Linkah scratches behind his right ear and reaches up to get the lantern. "I hope it's like o' gobber head, eh Marshy? We can plays us some Fins Feet up topside."
The group presses forward, lantern lighting the way. It isn't long before Beckett feels the familiar pull tugging at his guts. The one that reminds him of rain and mud and basements.
There, in the back of the hold beyond a collection of rum barrels. A box with brass hinges, two feet wide and a foot high, and a lock up on the front. The lacquered walnut surface is inscribed with runes that match similar engravings upon the lock. Ocean waves and diamond shapes bisected with dark and light stains dominate the runic patterns.
On either side of the box are fitted brass handles for carrying. A tentative test yields that the box weighs twenty or so pounds.
You note that the sensation of evil, while muddied, is definitely emanating from within the box.
A Detect Magic from either of you notes three distinct auras from within the box. But without line of sight (opening the box) you can't perform the Spellcraft necessary to determine the nature / school of magic involved.
Well done, you. Karl's keen eyes and keener instincts avail the group a crucial warning. While there are no obvious dangers in the hold, there is a not so obvious trap of reasonable severity on the lock of this ornately carved box.
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"The lock is trapped. We must decide how we wish to proceed here gentlemen. The captain obviously knows this box is here, but we do not know what it holds. At this moment we can back out and ask her diplomatically about it. If we breech it we are possibly endangering the ship and placing ourselves in a bad position with the captain."
Karl rescans the area.
"Maybe, we should look, but not touch. After all, we do not know how it came to be here or why. It looks well contained. I know you will be skeptical Mr. Beckett, but consider this. We brought a thing of evil and chaos aboard this ship too . . . And the book is not contained."
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Beckett looks up sharply.
"The book is contained, Mr. Marsh! It is contained by two Inquisitors and a Knight. Not to mention a mage, and spellsinger, and your trusty sword."
Beckett returns his gaze to the box.
"This is not contained! This is wrapped up for careful transport, so that it arrives safely."
"It should be destroyed!"
"You don't even know what it is or if what's inside can even be destroyed. For all you know a greater demon lies inside being taken to a place where he can be safely banished. So say we open it up, it endangers the ship, we destroy the captains cargo in her ship. We are in the middle of the ocean."
The halfling licks his lips and rubs his hands together, large eyes taking in the surface of the box with an ever growing curiosity. "Goh, give over, Marshy. Ya think a big demon's in this thing? Waitin' ta take our souls n' use 'em for napkins, eh?"
He glances up at the older warrior and nods to the box. "Give us a peek, eh? Somethin' gets our bullocks in a snare, I can use you n' the dwarfie as a raft."
Nosa, not speaking the tongue of the stranger turns to Agidor and Phedron.
Can either of you speak this mans tongue or have other means of interpreting?
He then turns back, walks over to the man and gazes down sternly.
Or perhaps we have no need?
Drogan pulls out his pipe, reveal a slight twitching in his fingers as he loads the tobacco. He's theatrical training keeps him calm enough to remain control - but he cannot hide his nervousness.
"I was translating a book one time. Odd stuff. I couldn't place the date of it, but it was thick with the smell of earth and time." He takes a long puff, causing the embers to glow in the shadowy hold before he blows a smoke ring. "It was back when they were still writin' stories thick with powers even the uninitiated could tap. It'd be like lettin' Linkah tap inte my own abilities by havin' him recite a lymeric. Anyway, I was two or three days inte the translation when I started hearin' things."
"Dark things."
"I'll save ya the full story an' say I spent three weeks in the temple callin' te Torag just to take me an' save the pain." Another long drag on the pipe sent smoke pouring through his nostrils - dancing through his beard. "There's somethin' in there. Somethin' powerful. I can'na tell what it is without opening to box, but I'm not in the business of openin' that box to find out what it is. If you want to take it, you'll do it without me. I'll join the others interrogatin' our friend upstairs."
☦♞
Phedron Rushing
Nosatrub Shieldarm
☦♞
Agidor shakes his head. "Sorry, mate, can't say I recognize it." He hops down from the crate and walks over, casual as a gentle breeze and folds his arms. "Big chap here says you were talking in your sleep. Common tongue."
The Mwangi searches the faces of Nosatrub and Agidor, sparing a look for Phedron too. Frowning with suspicion he says, "Where is this? Where is my crew? Is it dawn?" He tries to sit up but the effort elicits a moan and he lowers himself back to the deck. "I am Opillien Bantu, Captain of the Dahnaki"
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Amid the tension among the group, you find your hand has come to rest on the carved trinket in your pocket. Tour thumb finds the worn side and...
But there is a darker warning. The image of Onura barring your interference completely, hauling the box to her own quarters and forcing your party off of the boat... either in the ocean or at the least at your next stop.
Perhaps opening it now, to prove to her that what they're trafficking is deadly dangerous...then she'd see.
[ooc][b]An attempt on the box is sounding like a better idea. To allow something something potentially harmful to eventually drift from your sight and Influence is a greater risk. Add a +6 Luck bonus to an attempt to unlock and/or disable the trap on the box.
But there is something about the object in your pocket. The surge of curiosity and the modicum of thrill at the thought of opening the box no matter the risk... You've been around your share of Charms in the past. You know the feel of a Luck object when you encounter it.
☀♆♜♬
Drogan Anvilsong
Beckett Foxglove
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
Linkah throws up his arms as Drogan turns to go. "Aww, c'mon, dragon-drum. Ain't ya the least bits curious? Don't ya wanna know what's what?"
At Lavios' weigh in to the discussion, Linkah looks to Karl. "There's the spirit. See? That's 2 n' a Halfer ta one pensioner, Marshy."
Judging by his tone, it's clear this is a last ditch effort on the Halfling's part.
"Sorry, Lad," His voice drops, as if burdened by an unseen weight. He does not look back to the halfling as he continues. "if ye crack that box, yer on yer own. I'll have no part in it."
He walks slowly back to the Mwangi man. The others will probably need help. Help that he can actually provide.
When he arrives, the man who continues to frantically reveal himself the captain is agitated. Drogan whistles to catch his attention, tossing him the well-worn token.
"The box is covered in runes. It is no simple crate. . . It is no simple cargo, nor a simple decision to breech it."
"Drogan, if you are going up ask Phedron to come quickly. I would have his take on the carvings here."
Karl pulls hid hand out of his pocket thumb finding the smoothed portion of the trinket removed from the unconcous man two decks above them.
Windseer, come interrupt me before I do something rash or stay away long enough for me to do it.
"Tell me . . . If you found an interesting mask, would you place it up to your face to simply see if it fit and how it looked on you? Or would stop and consider it first ? . . . "
☀♆♜♬
Drogan Anvilsong
Beckett Foxglove
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
Linkah sighs loudly. "What a buncha Maries..." He stuffs his little hands in his coat pocket and kicks at an imaginary rock. "Guess we can all look fuh bodices when we gets ta Riddonport, eh girls?"
The Halfling makes a show of being depressed as he makes for the door of the hold. "Jus' as well, lads. Looks like that might be one o' the Cap'n's strong boxes, I wot..." Linkah pinches up his face in Karl's direction. "Aww, go on with ya, Marshy. Don't gimme that look. Didn't I mention it afore? Lookee at a way it sits nice n' pretty in its own lil' nook. Box's part o' the ship, I wot. Cap'n Pretty-gams probably cartin' somethin' in the box."
Linkah looks to Beckett and Lavios. "Box ain't evil, right chums? Iss what's inside that's got your curlies ina knot, eh?"
He continues for the door. "Well, gents, it's been 'bout as fun as seein' the sweet cakes on a sill. What say we go n' fetch the Cap'n n' see if she let's us have a taste *ahem* I mean a peek."
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"I am Opillien Bantu, Captain of the Dahnaki"
"You were the captain?" Phedron says surprised, woken from his musings. "While I didn't see you hauled from the sea, all indications seemed to suggest you were prisoner or otherwise captured. I'd say your ship and crew lie in bits at the bottom from the description, but whose to say that others might have escaped. You are safe for the moment. What light can you shed and the story before they found you?"