Karl inspects the ivory object with one squinty eye.
"Cheeky little trinket aren't you. How did find your way back into my pocket and back into my hand no less?"
He returns the figurine to his pocket.
"Yeah, the wave and diamond pattern on it too . . . Organized and mathematical along with nautical symbols. That belongs to the Windseer no doubt. This is the captains private strong box. The single guard with a club set sentry to see if we would come down here, not enough to stop us."
"We are . . . I should say I, because I started out the rouse to get down here, am placing that young sailor at risk of a keel hauling."
"There is another approach that may save that young man's skin. We haven't disturbed anything down here yet and the captain could easily have disposed of Nosa and I above yet moments ago. She knows the cloth of our party. Let's just ask her outright about the nature of what our group is detecting down here? She may not even know she is transporting something of an evil nature. It could have been magically shielded when it was brought aboard."
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☦♞♬
Phedron Rushing
Nosatrub Shieldarm
Drogan Anvilsong
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All
Opillien closes his eyes, taking in Phedron's frank assessment of the situation. His hands ball into fists but relax just as quickly. There is an exhaustion clinging to the Mwangi like the sodden clothing upon his shoulders. "So, then it was not just a nightmare...my crew, the Dahnaki, they are truly is gone."
When Drogan appears, Opillien visibly tenses at the sight of the dwarf. But at the flowing, melodic high speech of the Celestials, he relaxes into exhaustion once more. "You're not of their ilk, I see..." He responds to the dwarf in Common. "...you speak the language of the angels and studied clerics, dwarf. It gives me comfort, if only to remind me that Besmara, in her fickle way, has kept me alive while the rest of my crew perished...how will she extract the cost..."
His eyes are brown, nearly black. Their whites standing out like luminous moons set against the backdrop of his ebon skin and dreadlocks. Opillien shifts position, causing the totems and talismans fixed in his hair and on his coat to rattle. "We set out from Cassomir the 9th, our voyage to take us to Golsifar for supplies, then on to Absalom." He coughs into his hand and winces at a pain in his side. "We took on cargo and passengers. The latter, a group of humans and two dwarves. They claimed to be actors, destined for contract with the White Grotto in Absalom."
A heavy sigh. One Nosatrub has heard on the battlefield with the Knights of Ozem. The sound of a leader who's reconciled the deaths of those under his command are a reality. "First day of sailing, the storm caught us up, Besmara wouldn't let us go. But we came across a ship in worse condition than ours. We pulled alongside to help...but..." Opillien shakes his head. "...they'd baited us in...we boarded to help them, but they turned on us."
A flash of anger, teeth grinding in frustration. "They fought like savages...like the raging gorilla kings of my homeland. Worse still, our passengers, the actors...they joined in, their faces...turning to mania...madmen..." He spits to the side and makes a sign of waving lines across his chest. His other hand still fishes for something in his pocket that he's not finding. "We tried to fight them off, but the other ship tore into us, ballista shots below our water line...then two of their crew... they jumped aboard the Dahnaki with jars of flaming liquid and set fire to the cargo hold...they leapt in, killed themselves with devil-smiles on their faces." His eyes take on a distant cast, as though he's looking across the sea. "Those actors and their dwarves...they stood on the other ship by then...they clapped and laughed..."
He slams a fist onto the deck. "That is all I remember..."
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☀♆
Beckett Foxglove
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
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All
"Nice bit of dissertation, Mister Marsh." The melodic voice of the captain comes from the doorway to the cargo hold. There she stands hands on hips , lopsided grin that doesn't touch her eyes, and Kraken over her shoulder, broad arms folded across his tattooed chest. "Those words go a long way towards my decision not to throw you overboard right here and now. But what's one more trespass between us? So, you were going to be explaining to me why items in my strongbox are so dangerous?"
The lantern light in the hold casts her fine features in a shadow of judgment, luminous eyes weighing each of the group in turn. When she studies Lavios, Onura pauses for added consideration. Nevertheless, she awaits a response.
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Beckett takes a step forward, still cradling his large hammer.
"Choose your words with care, Windseer. Your word may be law on this ship, but it is not the only law at work here."
The Inquisitor gestures to the box, his eyes gleaming.
"A stink of evil emanates from that accused box. And it is on your ship, under your care."
Beckett turns to fully face her.
"I am prepared to listen to reasonable explanations. Otherwise..."
He returns her pale grin.
"Captain... Nothing can save you nor your ship."
"The dwarves ye took on. Did they bare a mark like this one," Drogan showed him Foeward's mark, ""Or maybe this one?" producing an old handkerchief from his pocket bearing the mark of the Iron Archive of Highhelm.
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☀♆♜
Beckett Foxglove
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
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All
Those who look see a flash of profound disappointment on the half-orc's face just before Kraken's eyes turn cold and distant. It's a look you've seen before in the eyes of Kheegan, the one-handed friend of Hal'dorel. Kraken's knuckles crack as his hands ball into fists.
"Oh my boy," Onura soothes in her silken tones. She turns and places a gloved hand upon Kraken's shoulder, the violence in his eyes diminishing. Then she glances to the young door guard. "Both of you, leave us."
"Cap'n...I dunno..." Kraken starts to object.
"I'll take care of matters here, Mister Kraken. And with far less damage to my ship." She tips her chin towards the stairs behind him. "Go, both of you. Mister Indrik will want you both topside to ensure we're underway."
Both knuckle their brows and turn to leave. Kraken spares another glance at Beckett, but says nothing. Whatever respect the simple-minded brute had for the young Inquisitor seems to have faded.
"Now," Onura spins on her heels and claps her hands together under her chin, like a noble beauty set to prayer, save for the dangerous glint in her violet eyes. "...where were we? Ah, yes, my dear boy. You've a faith and dedication that would make you a suitable quatermaster, but your manners leave something to be desired." Her tone is matronly, bordering on condescending. A tone Beckett recalls from his years bound to the nobility of his homeland.
Onura clasps her hands behind her back and steps gracefully towards Beckett, eyes never leaving his. When she's close enough to whisper, she speaks slowly and with with a song in her voice. "...if you ever again threaten harm to my crew, my ship or me, young Foxglove, I'll have Velryssa flay the skin from your bones and run it up the mizzen alongside my colors." Onura steps back and rests her hands on her hips.
"Alright, shall we try this once again?" Onura gestures to the box. "Had you taken the time to ask me, perhaps I'd have mentioned that my cargo is my business." She sighs and shakes her head. "But my willingness to bring three zealots aboard my vessel put me in an awkward position." She points a finger skyward. "And yet, Lt. Olfrey's request put before me an efficient solution."
"You'd better put that away, dear boy, before someone gets hurt." she says as she walks passed Beckett to the strong box. A wave of her hand and a single word spoken, the latches click open. "I've been given the charge by the Abadaran church to see these relics delivered to a priest in Riddonport. He is to take them into custody and Velryssa is to see him safely from the port to his sanctuary on the eastern side of town. I'd already sought you out for assistance in this matter when you boarded. My efficiency is not having to bring on board an extra passenger, when I have a paladin of Iomedae vouchsafed by Olfrey."
The hinges are barely audible as she lifts the lid. Inside, resting upon velvet lining, are seven objects; a single-edged knife carved from what appears to be crystal, a signet ring of silver and a glass tube with brass fittings. Inside the last is a globular fluid suspending a single finger.
The remaining four objects are tapered rods resting along each of the four corners of the box's interior. These latter are inlaid with runes you all now recognize as Abadaran.
"With the box opened, I would advise against observing the items via magical means. The lid acts as a buffer thanks to the warding rods." Onura folds her arms and continues. "Separately, these three items are vile enough. Together they make up a Soul Anchor. The dagger is plunged into the victim...the priest conducting the rite wears the ring. The victim dies, but the soul is trapped in the ring." The Windsinger wrinkles her nose in disgust. "The villain can choose to keep the victim alive however, returning the soul, but in this case, he did not. Paladins from the church killed this particular enemy..." She points to the finger. "The task is to bring what's left of him and the tools of his ritual to Riddonport to release the soul of the sacrifice killed in the process."
She waits for any questions from the trio.
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☦♞♬
Phedron Rushing
Nosatrub Shieldarm
Drogan Anvilsong
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All
Opillien studies the sigils. He points to the first one. "Dwarves of stern character, quick to anger. They nearly killed my boat swain when he refused to..." He stops, realizing that his crewman is dead anyway. But his brow furrows. "What is your business with these dwarves?"
"Easy Captain, " Agidor says calmly. "These blokes aren't exactly on our invite list."
The Mwangi seems satisfied with the response.
Drogan gives a heavy sigh. "Why must I always be burdened with being right?"
"Those weren't actors as much as traitors, a'm afraid. Wouldn' be surprised if that was the plan all along. It's with a heavy heart I call 'em dwarves a'tall. I assure you, our only business with them is te find and stop them - and if I ken put my ax in 'em for ya - you'll be sure I'll do it ... twice."
Would he lie about the destination? No. The old bastard is a sneak-thief without honor, but he is practical to a fault. If the grotto was not his final destination - it would be the closest point he could find TO that destination
"Did they speak of anything while on board? Did they tell you anythin' about the journey, even if it was just somethin' you or one a' your boys may have heard?"
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What was I thinking...? This a vessel of one of my own faith, I should have guessed it was on here for a good purpose
Lavios steps forward
"We were quick to accuse, me and friends - as you can tell - aren't one for letting evil remain. I was especially willing to rid this box of its presence on this boat, considering it's piloted by devotees of my deity. We were wrong."
". . .The victim dies, but the soul is trapped in the ring."
"A soul anchor . . . The victim dies, but the soul is trapped within . . ."
"Becket . . . Lavios, the Windseer has taught you both an important lesson today. Beware of rushing to action on first impressions and face values. Sometimes careful study and observation is what is needed. The lieutenant put us on a reputable ship, luckily one with a wise and tolerant master."
"My apologies for my young companions captain. Surely you may remember a time in your life when the world seemed more solidly black and white than awash in shades of grey. . ."
Karl walks over to the strongbox.
"Our paladin detected an evil presence down here. We came down to find out what it was fearing that it might be related to the events above. You arrived when we discovered it was not an active threat, but something in your strong box."
The old warrior is thinking deeply on something and looks suddenly older. He speaks to Onura with his words, but his eyes are fixed somewhere far behind her.
"My companions and I are chasing something far bigger than this. It involves dozens of ships and ports of call. There are an unknown number of players, but the list of our enemies and organizations working together are growing."
"My own involvement began long ago . . . And started with the theft of a soul."
Karl places his hand on the box.
"Boys, the Soul Anchor and the process of ripping the soul from its body are undoubtably evil, but what if you had utterly destroyed an innocent soul of a child locked within it? Beckett, smashing this box blindly would be like firing a crossbow bolt into a dark house indiscriminately."
"Again, my apologies, to all involved. I have not been at my best."
Karl digs the figurine out of his pocket and holds it up to the Captain.
"This little toy might have had something to do with it. I took it to prevent anyone looking at it. We have been neck deep in conspiracies and evil cults lately. It appears this is not a symbol of chaos though, but rather a captains good luck charm. If the man above proves true I will return it to him."
"I don't know the ramifications for you if we reveal more Onura, but I feel you were owed a more thorough explanation. . . "
Karl looks into her eyes.
"I will see your cargo to the Church of Abadar, so will Nosa once he knows what this thing is."
"The gods are watching and they see."
☀♆♜
Beckett Foxglove
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
☀♆♜
Onura seems satisfied between Lavios and Karl's responses. So much so that she looks relieved am finds a barrel stamped with the markings of Pentwert's Tobacco & Co and grabs a seat. At a gesture, the lid on the strong box shuts and the audible sounds of tiny gears and bolts can be heard as it locks itself.
"I'm thankful for your acceptance of the task. I too long for and time when the world was black and white." She sighs and draws up and no leg so she can rest her arms across it. "Out here on the seas, the world still is...perhaps that's why I love it so." When Karl brings forth the luck charm, Onura nods sagely. "Prince Evan the Twice-Graced, so our unlucky captain favors charms and the mercurial graces of Besmara. Intriguing thing to know about Captain Opillien Bantu."
She holds up a hand to the group. "I had my suspicions as to his identity when you dragged him on board. Not too many Mwangi ship captains pass through this region, but I wanted to be sure. Seamus brought back a piece of the hull, one with the carvings Opillien is famous for along the rails of the ship. Depictions of the creatures indigenous to his homeland."
She reaches into a pouch at her side and presents a chunk of wood. On it is the inlay depiction of a stylized panther roaring. More interesting is the burnt nature of the wood. "Seamus found debris similar to that while out on the launch. Something or someone set the torch to the Dahnaki and put her crew to the ax...or worse." Onura shakes her head, taking off her hat to allow her curly black hair to spill across her shoulders. "Seamus also brought another body on board. He'd wanted to prove he wasn't daft after claiming there were more than just weapon damage to it. He said there were human bites to them. I confirmed as much on the person of a crewman. An ax had split his guts...but there were human sized chew marks on the arms and neck..."
"Whatever you lot are up to, it may have claimed that ship and crew. The Dahnaki is on a list of vessels Olfrey paid me to keep an eye out for during our voyage." She eyes Karl and the rest. "It would seem I'm below the waterline on this trip, Mr Marsh. While I don't believe the items in my strong box are related, I do believe in luck and providence. You've been placed on a unique position aboard my vessel. Considering the fate of the Dahnaki, I'll be sire to keep my distance from other vessels in Olfrey's list."
She pulls back her hair and seems to finally notice Linkah staring at her with a dumb smile. Fitting her hat again, Onura slides off the barrel and passes by the Halfling, drawing a pair of fingers along his chin. It elicits a strangely embarrassed giggle from the diminutive rogue. "Rendering a Halfling speechless... I'm flattered."
To the others, "I don't like sailing these waters at night, but I'm not going to stay in this location. We move on to Riddonport. Do you have further questions or shall we attend Captain Opillien? "
☦♞♬
Phedron Rushing
Nosatrub Shieldarm
Drogan Anvilsong
☦♞♬
Opillien considers Drogan's question, pushing himself up to lean against one of the hammock's footlockers. "The humans spent their time going over a book, rehearsing. They even had trunks for costumes. I've seen enough of their kind to think them actors, if a bit odd. The dwarves, they spent their time dicing and giving my crew the evil eye."
He thinks for a moment. "Hawberk's & Company..." he says finally. "They had two trunks of clothing with that name burned into the sides...a laughing jackal with sheaves of parchment in the background...that was the symbol. Then two fish below to mark this company base in Absalom."
"We were only underway for a day before the battle."
"Hawberk's...wait a tick, I know their work, chums..." Agidor steps to his hammock and opens one of his bags. From it he pulls a finely woven, if travel worn, three-quarter coat of dark maroon and white cuffs. He pulls at the collar and reveals a sewn maker's mark; a laughing jackal with sheaves of parchment in the background. "Bought it from a bard in Oppara. Hawberk's got a reputation for tip top work. Clothes, set pieces...even props. The White Grotto uses their stuff from time to time."
"Well then, Agidor - I think i's time you and I 'ave a sit down and I tell you the finer points a' storytellin' that doesn't involve that instrument a' yours."
Agidor looks at him, puzzled.
"It seems the Grotto will be auditionin' two of the finest actors workin' the business today. An' since we can't find them - you and I'll have to do Sonny Jim."
There is a painful silence.
"Look, if Foeward and 'is ilk can pull themselves off as trained actors - I'd sooner steel the Luck Drunk's tankard than bet against our chances of bare minimum gettin' a bit a' news about what they were there for."
Drogan pulls Agidor close "And if that book our Mwangi friend 'ere was talkin' about is the book I'm thinkin' - who knows what they've got planned for it."
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"Who is this Foeward Drogan? Should I know the name?" Phedron asks. The name isn't said casually and suggests the dwarf knows quite a bit about him.
"Captain Opillien, did you ever catch their rehearsals? I'm curious, it sounds as if they merely used you as a temporary transport. Is there anything else you can think of that was odd with their attack on your vessel?"
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Beckett casts a smoldering glare upon Marsh.
He thinks himself so wise. He knows far less of true evil than he believes. I begin to see how he still lives...
"The only 'lesson' I have learned here, Marsh, is that some are too quick to lose their resolve! You may continue your 'careful study and observations' as you will. But keep your apologies your own. You do not speak for me nor my Inquisition."
Beckett returns his hammer to his back as he turns toward the Captain. Some of the smoldering in the Inquisitor's eyes fading as he meets her stern gaze.
"I am satisfied with your explanation, Captain. The situation is acceptable. For now. Although, in the future, I would recommend being more forthcoming. Our identities were not a mystery to you, and our oaths cannot be forsworn."
Beckett casts a glance at Marsh.
"For any reason at all."
"Did I lose my resolve? Or did I simply see the situation for what is was? I wasn't apologizing for your religious devotions, but for your tactics and utter lack of diplomacy."
"Perhaps it would have been better to let the Captain teach you, pain is a great teacher. Or maybe Kraken could pulp you up a bit, shove that hammer where the sun don't shine and snap the handle off for your lesson in grace and manners."
"You and Nosa detected something down here so we came down, but there isn't anything to fight down here, there's no active threat. What it is is an evil object holding what is very likely an innocent soul and you sought to just destroy it blindly."
"At our next port of call you should just barge into the local orphanage and strike down all the children inside with your magnificent hammer. Most all of them will grow up knowing want and misery. Some may turn to lives of prostitution to feed themselves or even steal. Others may grow up to be cruel to their own children. Kill the whole lot of them Mr. Beckett, you may prevent future evils. Sure a few that would have lived lives of saints may be slaughtered in the process, but don't let that get in the way if your religious crusade."
"You are beginning to act more like an Inquisitor of Rovagug than one of your enlightened goddess. Search yourself, you can't just go running around smashing things with your hammer and running your mouth that way to whomever you please."
"So glad you are "satisfied with the Captains answer" and that the "situation is acceptable for you, for now". How would you have her be any more forthcoming? She found us in her cargo hold getting ready to bust open magically shielded vessels without her permission and she just opened it for you to see for yourself what it is."
"Maybe she should prepare a list of all her passengers from decades before you were born for your perusal before you have to put her to the question for it."
"She forgives your youthful missteps and you repay her with more petty, impotent and empty threats."
"I didn't swear any oaths to justify behavior like that and I doubt your benefactor did either. Your inquisition will be short lived if you insist on continuing to conduct it in the manner you are choosing to now."
"Ah, that's right. You weren't with us then. Well, Phedron, Let me tell ye about a traitorous bastard that is potentially tryin' te summon some ancient evil in mad pursuit of personal power."
"You'd think an archivist would know what happens to those people."
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Beckett's face darkens at the mention of Rovagug...
But then he takes a deep breath.
"Our faith is one of restoration, healing, honesty and redemption..."
The Inquisitor listens to Marsh, his face transitioning from anger to puzzlement.
"Your words are empty Marsh. You invent imaginary scenarios, then use them as excuses to avoid what must be done now."
Beckett shakes his head.
"You are as eager to fight your allies as you are your enemies. Perhaps more so."
Beckett's face finally transitions to sadness.
"I have no desire to fight you, for I know that you are not evil. But I fear that your age has weakened your will. And I cannot allow that weakness, and your erratic behaviour, to endanger my purpose."
The Inquisitor takes a step toward Karl, then he stretches his arms out to the side, palms up.
"Are you going to strike me Marsh? As you nearly struck Phedron? Is your mind so muddled that you will turn on all of your allies, one by one? After me, who is next?"
Beckett smiles
"If you are, do it now. I would rather have an enemy in front of me than a false ally who will stab me in the back."
His smiles grows, as he gestures toward the Captain.
"Or one whose age, and love of their own skin, makes them tremble at the slightest setback. You may even win the fight. But you cannot be successful. It would only deepen your shame, and destroy our mission."
Beckett takes another step forward.
"But let us be done with this. Strike me, or get out of my way. I have a matter to attend to."
"I am not so old and addled as to imagine what you planned to do down here, we all heard it. I almost stuck Phedron, that's true, but there was also a lesson in that. I'd rather you both learn from tongue lashings than the real thing when your fervor blinds you."
"Are you about to lose it again son?"
He's flat footed, best to strike now.
The attack plays out in the old warriors mind. He shakes his head in sadness.
"So you can attend to a matter Huh? Care to be a bit more . . . Forthcoming? You planning on hammering our guest above or putting the crew to the question? It's the Captain's ship and her crew that she puts ahead of herself."
"You can step around me if you care to, I'm not moving."
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Beckett shakes his head with a sigh.
"My plan, Master Marsh, is to go to the eastern side of the ship, and to pray."
Beckett looks past Karl to the door above, his face reflective.
"And to offer counsel to Mister Kraken, if he will have it. His faith has been tested. Tho it is not my calling, I will give him comfort if I can."
With that, Beckett turns toward that Captain and raises a questioning eyebrow.
"With your permission, of course, Captain."
Onura waves the Inquisitor along like a butler in the finest hotel. "By all means, this hasn't been awkward all, Mister Beckett." She sweeps towards the door, following in his wake. "If your intentions are thus, do approach Kraken with care. But he is an atypical specimen in that he is a forgiving sort."
"Take time to cool your tempers. My estimation is that this is the crew's first time putting to sea," Onura motions for the group to exit the hold. After which she closes the door without locking it. "Given time you'll each learn the other's deeper desires. Only then can you reconcile the crew and sail without calamity."
Onura heads for the stairs. "But first, I think a lesson in humility will be required to surmount the individual egos. Such a lesson, in my experience, normally arrives when the seas are roughest and the mizzen it's cracking."
Linkah, silent up until that point rocks back and forth on his heels impatiently. "Ah, bloody hells...if there ain't gonna be a tussle, n' there ain't no demon-dogs gonna play poppsies outta the box o' mystery, let's go do for the Cap'n ya yanked from the water." Linkah pushes forward to the stairs and starts up them. "C'mon, Marshy. Then we can get ya some oatmeal ta calm your kettle."
As he dashes up the stairs he catches Beckett and gives him a pat on the back. "Thought ya were gonna call it down, gov. Thought I'd see ya do it..." As he's prone to doing, Linkah's face takes on a serious note. "Glad ya didn't, mate. Things'll sort out, you'll see. We gotta stick together, right? How else will we kill us tha' nasty dwarf cuss n' 'is blokes, eh?"
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Silently, Beckett completes his prayers, finishing with the same supplication which concludes all of his prayers since leaving home.
My blessed Sarenrae, I beg you to protect my sleep this night. Keep the abominations at bay, that I may better serve you at your sacred dawn.
The Inquisitor opens his eyes, knowing full well that the abominations will not be kept at bay. They never were.
The taint of my blood. The Dawnflower grants this punishment as my just fate. I will not doubt her wisdom!
As he completes this all too frequent thought, he turns to regard Kraken, busy about his work. With a sigh, the Inquisitor approaches the large half orc.
"Mister Kraken. I sense that my actions have caused you anger or pain. I would speak with you on this, if you are willing."
Beckett looks up to meet his eyes.
"If you are unwilling, I will go and trouble you no more."
If it can be helped.
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"I don't find your words comforting."
Speaking to no one in particular he contineus "So presumably they aren't terribly far away. I wonder if the rest of their story is true. If so, we may catch them up in Golsifar."
Turning back to Opillien, he shares more. "Captain, your story is of particular interest as we have our own matters at stake here. Your ship was known to us, having been one that had been shielded from inspection while in Cassomir. When you were in port, did you notice a lack of official inspection?"
Karl chewed at the side of his lip a bit before replying.
"This crew is not only on its sea trial, but it's a press ganged menagerie with too many captains and no navigators. The young mage and I got in a tiff because he issued me a challenge, but that one there."
Indicating where Beckett had passed above decks.
"I thought he might be struggling with his first kills, but now I am of the belief something deeper is going on with him. He claims I'm trying to start fights with him, but . . .that boy is at war with himself."
Karl nods towards Lavios.
"This one though, he's a strong hearted country boy. Thank you for speaking up earlier. You summed up the situation honestly and simply. I should have let you have the last words on it. Maybe that would have helped, but I don't know, Mr Beckett may just be seething for a fight. Hope he choses his words well with your mate up top."
Karl thinks for a moment before moving towards the berth where Nosa and the others are tending to the rescued seaman.
"Take heart, the gods see and they do care."
----------------------------------------------------
Karl walks into the room gives the Captain the once over, digs in his pocket and tosses the ivory figurine to the man.
"I think you are missing this. It's better you keep it. I think that little charm would have a propensity to make me a little too headstrong and reckless for my age."
"You can call me Karl Marsh."
"So gentlemen, what have we learned?"
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"Don't everyone talk at once now."
"Foeward was on board. Few of 'is boys, and apparently some humans they've either fooled, bribed, or recruited into workin' with 'im. Seems there was a bit a' the old bait fishin' going on in the seas, and our good captain 'ere is the last soul alive te tell the tale of how that bastard buggered off with 'is ship."
"Says they were 'eaded for the White Grotto. Don't know if that's their final destination or a stop along the way - but they mean to go there, an' I suggest we do likewise."
Phedron Rushing
Nosatrub Shieldarm
Drogan Anvilsong
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
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"Bit of a long way off our current course, eh mate?" Agidor adds into the mix. He draws some water from a nearby barrel and gives it to Opillien. "Listen, Cap'n, ya said these dwarves were a hard lot, real cast iron sorts. How's about some more color, gov? Was one o' them an older dwarf, looking to be the true leader o' the lot of them? "
Opillien accepts the water but shakes his head. "No, two dwarfs, young as this one here," He gestures with the water cup to Drogan. "...as I said, two dwarfs, four humans - two male and two female..."
"Right as rain, Cap'n, and they were claiming to be actors on contract to the White Grotto, a not do dodgy establishment." He taps a drumbeat on a near by barrel and then leans on it. "Who wore the pants in the group, mate?"
"One of the humans, he had short hair, beardless, but he had the voice for singing." Opillien shook his head grimly. "The dwarfs didn't like taking direction from him, like he wasn't their true master, but they did it anyway."
The Mwangi searches the newcomer (Marsh) and works the white figurine over in his right hand. Finally he nods greeting. "I am Opillien Bantu, once captain of the Dahnaki. Thank you for finding this item. It's been in my family for years. And yes, the Prince can tend to get one into trouble, but he also surmounts fear. A tricky exchange on the whale-road."
Agidor taps again on the barrel and looks at Drogan. "Cap'n here seems pretty sure Foeward wasn't on that boat, but it stands to reason he had mates aboard. Strange they'd take orders from a human, come to that. Wonder who he is?"
"Horatio," Opillien supplies.
To Phedron's question he offers response. "Aye, the customs call this time around was lighter than usual. My quartermaster lent it to our cargo being pedestrian at worst. Dock muster was signed by Imperial Officer of the Ports Lenz."
☀
Beckett Foxglove
☀
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"Mister Kraken. I sense that my actions have
caused you anger or pain. I would speak with you on this, if you are willing. If you are unwilling, I will go and trouble you no
more."
Activity on deck follows a steady rhythm as the Landless Gentry gets under way. The big half-orc moves with surprising fluidity from one task to the next. But at Beckett's approach he misses a step, dropping a coil of rope in front of Fizzle who looks ready to sound a protest. But at a look from the tattooed Kraken, he offers to pick up the rope instead. A task easier said than done but done just the same.
Kraken folds his arms, the tattooed tentacles of his namesake working and writhing as his muscles chord. "Ya accused me Cap'n, Sunbringah. She's done right by us fer long as I been at sea. Ya gotta knot wid 'er, ya gotsa knot wid me. Why ya say dark things 'er way, eh? Ya hadda mind fer blood...I know tha look."
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Beckett nods, his face thoughtful.
"Yes. I was. I do not deny it."
Then the Inquisitor lets out a sigh.
"But I do not disrespect your Captain. Indeed, I admire how she has treated you and the rest of the crew. But that does not change my duty."
Beckett points toward the deck of the ship.
"Mister Kraken, what would you do if this ship suffered an attack and a large breach was opened in the hull?"
Beckett holds up a hand to delay any protest.
"You would, no doubt, rush to the breach and do all you could to repair the damage and find the ones responsible."
The Inquisitor holds up one finger and points to the horizon.
"The servants of Saerene are no different. Our 'ship' is this world, and its enemies are everywhere, seeking to sink it into the abyss of shadow. When they strike, and they strike often, we are the first to arrive. To heal the damage and offer battle the demonspawn who would destroy us all. Including your Captain and your ship."
Beckett drops his hands back to his sides.
"To heal and to offer battle. Those are the two sides of the Everlight. It could be that you have only encountered the clerics of our order. The healers. They are essential... but also different. Those of the Inquisition are not cut of their cloth. We arrive first..."
Beckett's face becomes reflective.
"And many of us die."
The Inquisitor stands up taller.
"I do not know your Captain as you do, Kraken. Just as you do not know us. I knew only that there was a festering evil on this ship. I could no more fail to rush toward it and offer battle, than you could stand by idly as the Landless Gentry took on water."
"It is my hope that, even if you disagree with my actions, that you may at least understand them"
Drogan stands and kicks the nearest bit of odd cargo he could lay boot to.
"Even if it WASN'T 'im, he had hand in this. The Black Hammers don't piss without Foeward's say-so!"
Drogan let's out a guttural shout. Agidor stands, but the dwarf waves him off.
"I'm fine." The bard does not seem to believe him, so corrects himself. "I'll BE fine. I still say the Good Captian 'ere points our future journeys to the Grotto. Even if Foeward isn't there 'imself, he sent his boys there - and he's not one for needless waste."
"If he isn't with them, where'd that snake go te hide?"
"The premier bardic school in the known world has to have some precautions in place to protect itself and its half a world away. While I share your sentiments about wanting to track them down, I think we will have to leave the City at the Center of the World to its own safeguards . . . For now. For all we know the mention of the White Grotto was to throw us off their true destination."
"We did not find an active threat in the cargo, but rather a new more pressing task just revealed to us."
Karl nods to Phedron and Nosa in particular.
"One I would like to discuss with you and the others once we have a moment."
Karl focuses his attention on the rescued sea captain.
"A nice charm to have indeed."
He motions to the figurine back in the captains hands.
"It seems higher powers have made it clear you are to keep it."
Karl purses his lips.
"Opillien, why do you think they would destroy your ship? Why not simply take it over and claim it as a spoil? It seems a horrible waste, unless there was some purpose I can't see on the surface."
and another question, if we could retake a ship from some of these cultist bastards, would you sail it for us? Can you be trusted Opillien?
☀
Beckett Foxglove
☀
.
Kraken considers Beckett's words for a long time. So many minutes pass that the Inquisitor isn't sure if the half-orc is even listening. But eventually the bruising fellow responds.
"Ya make a good tale, Sunbringer. Ship takes on water, each o' the crew knows what's what." Kraken considers his words carefully. A lifetime of being the strongest on the crew lends caution to everything he does. "But yah gotta know the bullocks yer kickin'...if a hole hits the ship, we haveta know how bad...do we bail water or do we jump, eh? That means lookin' ta ol' Croaker or Onyx-eye or the Cap'n."
Kraken shakes his head and points southward to the horizon. Faint lines of orange and purple light knifes from the east as the sun begins it rise. "Light's comin'. We gotta get 'er ready for port, eh?" Kraken stoops down and grabs the coil of rope he'd dropped. He then hands it to Beckett. "You help me out, Sunbringer?"
Assuming Beckett will say yes, Kraken grabs another coil and gestures a meaty hand aft. As the two walk, Beckett notices the sure footing of the half-orc. Especially when he deliberately steers clear of a pair of rats near the mizzen who nose the air at his passing. With a free hand he fishes out a pair of cheese chunks and tosses them their way. Rats being rats, they greedily clutch the pieces close and scurry away.
"Most blokes' d kill 'em." Kraken says with a chuckle. "We gotta gang o' the little beasties aboards...but we trains 'em...get ta know they gots eats when they needs 'em. Makes 'em tough so when we gets ta port'n, they keep other rats off tha ship." He drops his coil of rope near the aft mast and points for Beckett to do the same. "First sight, a sailor'd kill them rats, but ya'd hafta know the situation better 'fore doin' a wrong thing. Get me point?"
He folds his muscled arms and looks down at the Inquisitor, eyes furrowed and canines prominent. "What about me, Sunbringer? Whaddya see in me? Most'd put a cutter n' me belly n' have done wid, me bein' halvsies n' all. Ya see a bloke like me in a fight, wid humans, who'd ya be mates wid?" Kraken's calm demeanor has a serious overtone, as if requesting that Beckett answer honestly.
♆☦♜♬♞
Phedron Rushing
Nosatrub Shieldarm
Drogan Anvilsong
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
Agidor takes a moment to refill Opillien's water cup, then hands his flask to Drogan. "You're right, mate. Those bleedin' Blackhammers won't make a move without his word. But it's still a boggle to think a human's gotta hold of their chains as it were" The guitarist looks Karl's way and shrugs. "The White Grotto will keep, right as rain ya are, chummeroo. But I can't imagine even the dodgiest o' directors takin' on a bunch o' loonies." He then looks to the Mwangi captain. "So how about it, mate? Why not just take your boat?"
Opillien answers in a single word. "Madness." He looks down at his charm and then slips it into his coat pocket. "We came upon the other ship during the storm, thinking the boat derelict considering the condition of their sails. When we pulled alongside, there were two on the rails looking weathered and weary."
A sip of water and he winced at a pain in his side. "We boarded, no salvage if there's crew aboards. But as soon as we lashed to them, the rest of their compliment came out from hiding. They set into us like...like madmen. Knife and sword and harpoon...tooth and nail. I've not seen such ferocity since leaving my homeland. Then the dwarves and the 4 actors joined in on the melee, taking their direction from the man named Horatio, they fought with the mad crew of the other ship, like they were mates all along." the second telling of his tale rose an anger in Opillien. The next words came out between clenched teeth. "We tried to fight them off, but the other ship tore into us, ballista shots below our water line...then two of their crew... they jumped aboard the Dahnaki with jars of flaming liquid and set fire to the cargo hold...they leapt in, killed themselves with devil-smiles on their faces."
"Purpose, Mr Marsh?" Opillien shake his head angrily. "There was no purpose to their grotesqueries other than the joy in their eyes as my crew perished...as my ship sank."
From what you can tell, he's speaking the truth. His demeanor seems to be a combination of uncertainty and anger.
"Dark cultists, evil men and madness have been my constant companion nemeses for most my useful years. Don't try to understand it or them captian . . . you'll just go mad yourself. As it is, I am begining to think myself a bit mad or paranoid for looking back now, it all seems to follow, flow or fall into a pattern . . . and at every turn I find my circumstances in life have been related and intertwined with these events and men. Now that I make those realizations I feel that it is almost too late to do something with that knowledge."
"Now that you have survived with your life intact, what do you intend to do with it?"
Phedron Rushing
Nosatrub Shieldarm
Drogan Anvilsong
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
.♆☦♜♬♞
Opillien shakes his head, the question bringing forth a thought that hadn't woken in the Mwangi. "Protocol would be to see my way to the Imperial Navy at Riddonport, or wherever it is you'll be putting to port." He gathers his dreadlocks, bone and ivory trinkets rattling, and tied it back with a strap of leather. "From there, I'll most likely return to Cassomir, or perhaps request posting aboard this ship by way of reciprocity for my rescue."
He looks to Karl and the to Nosatrub. "But I don't have this ship's captain as the sole recipient of my gratitude, do I?" Opillien looks Karl's way with the unasked question, what did you have in mind?
"Our future holds a fair bit of traveling. Some of us are quite versed in the ways of the sea, but lack the experience to command and control an oceangoing vessel. . . Say we could retake a ship from some of these cultist bastards, would you sail it for us?"
Phedron Rushing
Nosatrub Shieldarm
Drogan Anvilsong
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
♆☦♜♬♞
"There is a saying among my people; 'Kuphela owasinda angase uyazitika...' Only the survivor may feast." A grim shadow passes over Opillien's face. "Should an opportunity arise, I shall repay my debt. A life, for a new purpose."
He hands back the now empty water cup to Agidor with a nod of thanks. "I shall either remain in Riddonport or upon this vessel - Captain allowing - until I've heard from your group. In the time between, I shall begin seeking a crew."
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Kraken stoops down and grabs the coil of rope he'd dropped. He then hands it to Beckett. "You help me out, Sunbringer?"
Beckett accepts the rope with a smile.
"First sight, a sailor'd kill them rats, but ya'd hafta know the situation better 'fore doin' a wrong thing. Get me point?"
Beckett freezes for a moment, surprised by the insight behind the large sailor's words.
He folds his muscled arms and looks down at the Inquisitor, eyes furrowed and canines prominent. "What about me, Sunbringer? Whaddya see in me?
"...Beckett, you're going to learn that not all evils in this world are readily apparent. Sometimes they will require a bit of delving before the application of Sarenrae's purging light."
Slowly, the Inquisitor's muscles relax, and he nods."Growing up, I worked in a large market to in Korvosa. I saw many kinds of people... among them slavers."
Beckett's face grows reflective.
"I learned, at a young age, that there are many comely people... who are monsters. And there are many of unsettling appearance who saints."
Beckett reaches up to place his hand on Kraken's shoulder.
"My training in the Inquisition confirmed this lesson to be true. There is much evil in the world. But there is also goodness and wisdom... often where you least expect it."
Beckett works along side Kraken, silently for a time. Finally he offers
"Mister Kraken. There is another aspect to the Inquisition. That of the recovery of holy things. We venture along side the Paladins to return to the Everlight what is her own."
The Inquisitor meets Kraken squarely in the eyes.
"I wonder that one of your background came to the dawn's light. You speak with the wisdom of many of the clerics I have known. Your path would be difficult, but I believe you could do much good among their ranks."
Beckett holds up a hand to forestall any objections.
"I am merely asking you to pray upon it. Before I leave this ship, I will pen you a letter of introduction. Should you find yourself in a port with a temple, and a mind to talk... present it to a cleric there and tell your story."
Beckett smiles.
"Sarenrae's will be done."
"Good, for gods other than Besmara have shown me an interest in you. Therefore, I cannot think our coming upon you is mere circumstance or simply luck. I will hold you to your oath should we find opportunity to divest these bilge rats of a vessel."
He rises and gives a nod to Agidor.
He speaks to everyone, but looks at Karl, "The road seems to be getting longer than usual these days. Wherever you all think is best, I'll go. All I ask is that ye point me at the nearest Black Hammer so I ken drop their heads at their master's feet."
Drogan walks to stand before the captain and bows.
There is noise from the decks above. Whatever is going on up there, they'll probably need a hand. The work will keep him busy. "I'm going te see if the Windsinger needs any help." He starts to head out of the room to see what is happening above.
"Maybe I'll see if that young woman has more to say as well."
"Your passion has shown us the light and led us in the right direction more than once. I would have it that you continue to express your your thoughts and feelings, for I find them to be most true."
Drogan nods to Karl, tipping his wide-brimmed hat and giving a wink before continuing up the stairs.
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Sitting quietly while the others converse, Phedron at least takes comfort with some path directly in front of them. Still, the sheer chaos of their adversaries is unsettling.
Almost ignoring Drogan and Marsh's conversation for fear of displaying ignorance of an unknown language, he turns his attention to Beckett, surprised by his lucid words. [i]"He almost sounds sane."[/b]
There is a pity that stirs within him. A half breed himself, he at least knows some of the social discomfort, though he also agree the half-orc doesn't encourage confidence at first sight.
"We should let you get some rest and rebuild your strength Captain."
and keep an eye on you.
"I will join you all in going up top. Nosa, are you going to remain down here?"
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On the way up to the deck Karl explains to Phedron and Drogan (and Nosa if he proceeds upstairs) what was found in the Captains hold, how it works as described by Onura, and what she needs us to do with it.
". . . At this moment we must realize that the enemy has greater material and intelligence resources than the city we just came from and ourselves. These cultists were able to have one of their ships in place to intercept and destroy a naval vessel. I am of the belief that if someone went to the trouble of capturing a soul, they might try to recover it. I hope I am wrong."
Nosa, having listened to all that happened around him intently
No. I will go to the deck. I feel the need for air. These cramped quarters are not to my liking. I will be glad when we get solid footing under our feet again.
With that, he departs.
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♆☦♜♬♞
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The sun crests the horizon, managing to send spears of light across the bow of the Landless Gentry as she makes for the natural harbor of Ridonport. Most of the crew is eager to make port after sailing through the night amid the tempestuous waters of the Jagged Teeth.
Standing the bow while the dwarven navigator is at the wheel, Windsinger Onura Limnesti studies the approaching city. Behind her the party has been able to rest and prepare for the arrival, adding their hands to the ship's crew when directed.
For Beckett, he's found himself a friend in the unlikeliest of persons as Kraken the half-orc contemplates one of the most important decisions of his life. Quiet as stone by nature, he sets about his work with a renewed verve that earns a nod of appreciation from even the acerbic Seamus.
The party is gathered at the bow with Onura, joined by her procurement officer and fence Velryssa. In front of front latter is a weathered pack laden with the subjects of their current discussion.
"We arrive in port soon, gentlemen." Onura begins, turning from the bow and resting her hands on her hips. "Once there I will be escorting Captain Opillien to the Imperial Naval Offices to report on his ship's sinking." she pauses and looks into the eyes of the Mwangi. "Afterwards it is my hope that I can convince him to stay on with the Landless until such time as a new command or vengeance is presented him."
Opillien inclines his head in silent appreciation but says nothing.
Onura smiles and continues. "As for the rest of you, we have two things to accomplish while in port; conduct the items in Velryssa's pack to the Abadaran temple and acquire information pertaining to the attack on Opillien's vessel."
"Slim chance of that, Captain." Velryssa silken voice puts in as she lounges at the rail. She waves a slim hand of manicured nails in Opillien's direction. "In my brief discussion with the man, his assailant could have simply pointed their bow seaward."
"A truth to be sure." Onura responds. "But there may be information to be had among the taverns and port hawkers. A ship of madmen leaves a wake."
"How long are we ashore, milady?" Agidor asks.
"I hope to be back to sea after midday." She looks to the group and adds lastly. "The people who lost these items are no doubt keen to get them back. My hope is that our obfuscation thus far will keep that from happening."
"Father Solin Argus will meet us at the docks." Velryssa says. "His face is known to myself and the Captain. We meet and then we depart for the east side of the city and the Abadaran temple."
The Captain steps forward, as does Velryssa, completing completing the circle with the worn leather pack at the center. "Questions?"
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