Shagraat crosses his arms and returns Jum's glare.
"Our deal was to help guard your ship if attacked, but you are intentionally seeking a fight with these Sea Devils by breaking with your custom. That violates the spirit of our agreement - so now we are back to negotiations. Secondly, I find your plan, such as I overheard it, to be unwise. Do you not see that your ship will likely be marked once you've taken this step? Or did you think that you'd hired our services permanently?"
I turn back to Jum. "You follow this guy?"
The captain shrugs. "We owe some money to some fairly ugly people in Stormreach - people with reach. The crew all own shares in the Morgata so they all owe the money too, so we are in it together - don't think that they will side with you. We have just about cleared that money on this trip, but we won't be able to if we have to pay the devils their tribute. So, yeah, for the crew this is probably the safer route. For you guys, maybe not so, but then it's not like we are going to leave you to face any fighting all by yourself. We all have an interest in making it through and that means with you guys alive - well, most of you. And I thought it was what you do - you know, fight things."
"It is customary," growls Jum, "To pay the sahuagin a tribute to cross their waters. But he is right, up to a point," he continues, flicking an annoyed look at Garton. "There are many tribes, and they raid each other and the shipping that crosses the Teeth all the time. Sometimes they might be enemies of the sahuagin you paid tribute to, sometimes their priests might decide that they don't like your tribute and raid you anyway. Sometimes a travelling war party might just come across you and decide that it is easier to fight you than fight other sea devils. This way, of course, means it is much more likely we will be attacked."
Garton leans back in his chair. "So it looks like you might actually have to earn your passage, rather than just coast through for free. I'm sorry, but we aren't turning round - we've got cargo to ship, and debts to pay. You can't sail the ship without the crew and they follow me, so I suggest you just relax and hope the sea devils don't feel like a fight."
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The captain shrugs. "We owe some money to some fairly ugly people in Stormreach - people with reach. The crew all own shares in the Morgata so they all owe the money too, so we are in it together - don't think that they will side with you. We have just about cleared that money on this trip, but we won't be able to if we have to pay the devils their tribute. So, yeah, for the crew this is probably the safer route. For you guys, maybe not so, but then it's not like we are going to leave you to face any fighting all by yourself. We all have an interest in making it through and that means with you guys alive - well, most of you. And I thought it was what you do - you know, fight things."
"It is customary," growls Jum, "To pay the sahuagin a tribute to cross their waters. But he is right, up to a point," he continues, flicking an annoyed look at Garton. "There are many tribes, and they raid each other and the shipping that crosses the Teeth all the time. Sometimes they might be enemies of the sahuagin you paid tribute to, sometimes their priests might decide that they don't like your tribute and raid you anyway. Sometimes a travelling war party might just come across you and decide that it is easier to fight you than fight other sea devils. This way, of course, means it is much more likely we will be attacked."
Garton leans back in his chair. "So it looks like you might actually have to earn your passage, rather than just coast through for free. I'm sorry, but we aren't turning round - we've got cargo to ship, and debts to pay. You can't sail the ship without the crew and they follow me, so I suggest you just relax and hope the sea devils don't feel like a fight."
"You leave us no choice then. Hope to whatever Gods you believe in that we don't take the sahuagin's side, and that we don't burn this wreak to the water when we make port." Colvare turns on his heal and leaves the cabin. Rasing his hood to cover the frown as he does so, and stalks to the front of the boat to scan the water, and the horizon.
Benedetto finds the crewman on watch staring at him. He looks quite old, with a bushy white beard and eyes that roll rather disconcertingly. His body is withered and gnarled like wood, with no spare flesh, his clothes hanging loosely. He looks away when he realises he has been noticed.
Benedetto wanders over to one of the other crewmen, ideally one of the more intelligent ones, and makes himself useful, pitching in on some simple manual task.
Simple Manual Task (either STR or DEX based): 1d20+1: [16,1] = (17)
After a few minutes, he asks "So, who's the feller up on the watch? He was givin' me the hairy fish-eye a couple minutes ago."
Diplomacy or Gather Information:1d20: [12] = (12)
"You leave us no choice then. Hope to whatever Gods you believe in that we don't take the sahuagin's side, and that we don't burn this wreak to the water when we make port."
"I'm not too worried, thanks - you can't breathe water."
"I'm not too worried, thanks - you can't breathe water."
After Colvare leaves, Rayne grins sheepishly. "You'll 'ave to forgive 'im, 'e's a bit... extreme. I come t'see what we can expect from these devils o'yers. I knew we was comin' t'fight. I don't expect no free rides. Blood's cheaper than gold, is all, and I gots plenty more of one than th'other if you catch my meanin'. What can ye tell me of 'em?"
"I'm not too worried, thanks - you can't breathe water."After Colvare leaves, Rayne grins sheepishly. "You'll 'ave to forgive 'im, 'e's a bit... extreme. I come t'see what we can expect from these devils o'yers. I knew we was comin' t'fight. I don't expect no free rides. Blood's cheaper than gold, is all, and I gots plenty more of one than th'other if you catch my meanin'. What can ye tell me of 'em?"
"Well, he's got spirit, I'll give him that," remarks Garton sarcastically, "I just hope he can fight as well as he shouts."
Jum just raises his eyebrows at Colvare's retreating back. "The sea devils... Well, they don't normally attack the ship hulls, fortunately, maybe because they don't use axes much underwater. They usually climb on board at night at go for the crew instead, using their claws and tridents. It's not normally too serious - it's rare that you get more than a few, unless they are really riled up, they snatch a crewman or two and they jump back overboard again." Jum casts another withering look at the captain. "Of course, they might be more annoyed than usual, given how we left if with Seelah."
Garton glares back at his mate. "Hmm, maybe." He turns back to Rayne. "Seelah is a sahuagin, a go-between between the tribes and the shippers. I sent him off with a flea in his ear when he came round looking for tribute. Serves him right for getting greedy."
"I hope it doesn't serve us all right," grumbles Jum. "Anyway, normally the tribute is paid at Tribute Rock, a small island in the Teeth. I gather from our captain that we will instead make sure we are a long way from there as we go through to Stormreach, and hopefully avoid most of the devils that way."
Benedetto wanders over to one of the other crewmen, ideally one of the more intelligent ones, and makes himself useful, pitching in on some simple manual task.
After a few minutes, he asks "So, who's the feller up on the watch? He was givin' me the hairy fish-eye a couple minutes ago."
The crewman looks uncomfortable as Benedetto makes small talk while hauling on a line. At his question, the crewman shrugs and mumbles, "That's Old Mardy. He's, y'know, got a touch of the sun today."
"That's Old Mardy. He's, y'know, got a touch of the sun today."
Benedetto stops working, stands up straight, and looks at the crewman with a rueful smile. "All right, sailor. Somethin's settin' you ill-at-ease, too. If you can tell me what, I'd be obliged. If y'can't, then who's the right man for me t' ask, to suss out the problem?"
Urthona is totally oblivious to all this fuzz about him. He wants a place, where he can put his new gear, a place to sleep and shrugs at the inquisitive nature of his colleagues. If it is what they were hired for, it is what they were hired for.
He walks over to a crew mate and asks, "Where can ah put mah stuff? Where can ah get somthin t'eat an' where can ah sleep?"
"That's Old Mardy. He's, y'know, got a touch of the sun today."Benedetto stops working, stands up straight, and looks at the crewman with a rueful smile. "All right, sailor. Somethin's settin' you ill-at-ease, too. If you can tell me what, I'd be obliged. If y'can't, then who's the right man for me t' ask, to suss out the problem?"
"Ain't nothing wrong, mate, nothing at all."
"Ain't nothing wrong, mate, nothing at all."
A blatant lie - he looks quite nervous, even slightly scared.
Can I tell what's scaring him? Me? The lookout himself? The Sea Devils? Something else?
Spot:1d20+3: [17,3] = (20)
Knowledge Religion:1d20+2: [6,2] = (8)
Mirra watches Benedetto talking to the sailor an catches the sailor warding off the Devourer. It seems the the crew has heard about the captain not paying the tribute. This should be an interesting trip. Mirra thinks to her self as she turns back and looks out over the sea.
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Mirra watches Benedetto talking to the sailor an catches the sailor warding off the Devourer. It seems the the crew has heard about the captain not paying the tribute. This should be an interesting trip. Mirra thinks to her self as she turns back and looks out over the sea.
Colvare notices the man's action too, tuts, and turns back to his revere. His opinion of sailors plummeting like a stone.
The white bearded sailor comes over to Benedetto and the seaman he is conversing with. "Steer clear, Bordo," he hisses, eyes still rolling, "He's got the sign of Maker Quash. See his hands, and his eyes! I tell 'ee, this trip is doomed. Doomed! The Eater's spawn is sailing with us - it's a bad sign." His breath reeks of rum and rotted teeth as he snarls in Benedetto's direction. The other sailor almost gibbers with terror.
Shagraat comes onto the deck just in time to hear this superstitious trash. He swells with poorly contained anger as he steps into the conversation.
"You can stow that!" he growls. "This man is like as not to save your bony rump."
He forces himself to speak quietly and directly at the sot. "Sail your ship to Stormreach, and try not to let your mouth get your ass kicked."
"You can stow that!" he growls. "This man is like as not to save your bony rump.
"Sail your ship to Stormreach, and try not to let your mouth get your ass kicked."
"Thanks, m'friend. Though, I suppose, now we really do need to save their bony rumps."
"Bordo, Cleg, get back to your posts!" booms Jum as he emerges from the captain's cabin. The two sailors slink away, giving Benedetto filthy looks.
"They're a suspicious lot, sailors," he says apologetically, "And Cleg's one of the worst - he reckons there is an omen of doom every time we set sail. Good man, but not cheery company.
"As to where you bunk down," he says to Urthona, "Well, the deck is free and it's a decent night tonight, but otherwise you can sleep in the hold. It's not the best but at least we are shipping grain sacks, not arrow heads, so you can bed down on top of there. We aren't a passenger ship, so we have no passenger cabins
"But the deck and the hold are obviously not sufficient for a lady," he says, bowing courteously to Mirra, "As you will require privacy from the men, you will have my cabin."
"It's bad luck, having a woman on board," grumbles Cleg audibly.
"Shut up and get back to work!" roars Jum, and the sailors scurry off.
"But the deck and the hold are obviously not sufficient for a lady," he says, bowing courteously to Mirra, "As you will require privacy from the men, you will have my cabin."
Mirra smiles but shakes her head. "Thank you but the deck is fine. I have never been out of Sharn so I would like to spend as much time as I can out here. Do you have any hammocks the we could string up?"
"Well, hammocks are for below-decks really, and potentially dangerous up here - you don't want to be pitched into the sea while asleep. I'm afraid it's blankets up here."
Life on board lapses into routine fairly quickly, the sailors setting about their accustomed roles – hauling ropes, manning the helm, patching sails and keeping watch. The weather is generally fair and the ship makes good progress, ploughing through a blue sea under an azure sky, and navigating through the occasional strings of rocky islets which abruptly jut above the water, often topped with scrubby trees and bushes. For the passengers/security, boredom swiftly sets in after the initial novelty of shipboard life, though this is broken from time to time by such sights as a pod of dolphins playing before the Morgata’s bows, or the crumbling, vine-choked ruins on top of one of the islands.
“The Teeth were supposedly part of Xendrik, before the giant empire fell,” says Jum by way of explanation. “There’s supposed to be whole cities lost under the water, guarded by the sea devils.”
“And worse things…” mumbles Cleg, who happens to be nearby, before being shooed away.
The sailors generally steer clear of the party, and continue to give Benedetto filthy looks. Jum is an exception – seemingly well-travelled and with a lively mind, he engages the party in conversation when dinner (a somewhat generous term for the fairly indifferent food that is served, mostly dried meats, porridge and ships’ biscuits) is taken in the captain’s cabin. Garton himself is not unfriendly, though he takes every opportunity to smile mockingly at or deprecate Colvare, dubbing him “Fire Pants”.
One afternoon, with the sun beating down on the deck, Andrei wanders over to where Urthona is leaning on the rail and enjoying the breeze. After engaging in a few minutes of conversation, Andrei asks, “So this relic of your tribe – what is it?”
Shagraat moves over to hear Urthona's response to Andrei.
"Mah druid fathers called it 'The Bowl of Souls', a simple wooden bowl measuring about 2 handwidths. The lore's that it contains the wisdom an' knowledge of our ancestors. But Ah've no clue, what it does exactly. Ah think they just wanted te get rid off me... sendin' me on a quest they knew Ah'd never complete. But Ah owe it te them, te try at least te find it. They took me in, brought me up, tried te teach me the way of the forest and the power of nature. But mah impatience never let me grasp the way of nature an' its powers. Not that they didn't try. Meditation, dream wanderin', fastin' fer weeks, bleedin', smokin' mushrooms, that was great, lashins and many other ways te open mahself up t'the wisdom and tranquility of nature. Nothin' worked. Were really desperate the last year or so. Caught some talk 'bout a conjection when even mah fathers got hectic. And then they sent me away. Guess Ah was a failure after all. 'Tleast in their eyes..."
Andrei nods in sympathy. "I know that feels. My father is a well-known knight in Thrane, but he wasn't married to my mother. I'm a constant reminder to him of his embarrassment, so he made extra sure I would be "purified" and moulded so I could follow in his footsteps and he could atone for his sin. But I didn't really cut it at the seminary and couldn't join the knighthood, so he pulled some strings and got me posted to Sharn, working for High Warden Agan. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess." He sighs and shrugs, and then brightnes a little. "Still, who knows, maybe this trip will give me a chance to prove myself? Please my superiors in the Church and my father."
"Th' duties of yer church are enough, Andrei. Ye don't need to risk yer neck just te please yer dad. Risk it fer the sake of duty itself. That should do. Me, Ah was foretold a biiigg destiny, cause Ah was born as the seventh of the seventh and Ah dunno how many more sevenths. That's why the druids took me in when mah parents got killed. But th'pressure it puts upon ye, th'expectation from your elders, it seemed impossible just to make anythin' right in their eyes. Take yer own measure of it, set yerself targets ye can accomplish, and nevah stop tryin'. That brought me further in a few months than any teachin' of mah druid fathers fer years and years."
Andrei nods thoughtfully and stares at the water.
After a companionable silence, Andrei asks, "So, your Bowl of Souls - do you know what happened to it, or where it is?"
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Colvare spends the rest of that first night at the bow of the ship watching he waves, and he setting sun. He still standing, rolling with the ship as the sun sets on the second day of heir journey. No attempt at communication with Colvare is successful, during this entire time, he does not move o eat or sleep, and indeed appears to be in some form of trance. As the group, and crew awake on the morning of the third day, Colvare is curled up asleep in a blanket on deck, out of the way, with a large raven sitting at his head, perched watching over him...
In the following days, Colvare is never seen without he raven perched on his shoulder, hough he stays just as taciturn, giving Garton nothing but foul looks.
"Yaargh, a raven on board - 'tis bad luck!"
"Yaargh, a raven on board - 'tis bad luck!"
Benedetto, aside to Colvare, "Told you, you should have gone for the trout."
He is beginning to wonder if sailors have any superstitions about good fortune.
Urthona takes a long pause. "Dunno much 'bout that, Andrei... 'Twas taken from us 'bout 120 Years ago during th'height o'the pursuit, one o'the most prized relics, hidden within a peaceful shifter village named Mournleaf. What has happened te it after th'raid Ah don't know and the village was completely burnt t'the ground."
The trip has been fairly uneventful, and the Morgata progresses well. Garton is, personality defects aside, an effective ship's master and the crew are well-disciplined and competent. The weather is good for the first week or so, but then a squall sets in, causing heavy seas. The Morgata and the crew cope well, but the heaving decks leave some of the landlubbers feeling distinctly unwell.
Relations with the superstitious crew don't improve much, however, though they pretty much keep to themselves. The ship ploughs on steadily though the archipelago and the temperature gradually rises the further south she goes. After two weeks of travel, the thought occurs that maybe the expected sahuagin attack will not materialise, and Garton has maybe managed to avoid the sea devils' vengeance.
About five days out from Stormreach, around sunset, the brisk breeze abruptly dies and the Morgata's sails empty.
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Fort Save; Spot (1d20 +=18, 1d20+3=23)
Colavre also suffers very little from the conditions, loving the high winds on the bow, and spending most days covered in a cooling mixture of wind and sea water, Lenor flapping a few 10s of feet above the prow of the ship.
With the coming of the Calm, Colvare is uneasy, noticing the distinctly unsual area of the calm, surrounding the ship, he makes his way to the captain.
"Garton, I take it your Sea Devil friends will be arriving soon, do we have any way to power out of tis un-naturel calm without arousing suspicion? Or do we simply make a run for the weapons?"
Urthona is not feeling well....
but the swaying of the ship has stopped. "No wind." he says to the others and points to the calm sea.
"No wind."
"But still wind over their" Colvare points, "I don't like this."
Fortitude Save -- 1d20+3: [19,3] = (22)
Benedetto doesn't get squeamish; he makes other people squeamish.
Spot check -- 1d20+3: [17,3] = (20)
"Prepare for battle, fellers. Here's where we earn our keep."
Distracted by his own nausea, Rayne pays little attention to what's going on, preferring instead to do his best to not look as bad as he feels.
It doesn't take long before Mirra realizes why she has never left Sharn. After hanging her head over the rail for several hours her rolling stomach starts to settle down. As she looks up she notices the calm area ahead.
"It seems they are.... ump...ahh... ...ready for us." She says between the occasional dry heave.
I'll spoil this in case initiative rolls are imminent and my surprise status hinges on that failed spot...
If my compatriots comments are sufficient warning for me to act, I fetch a javelin and cross the deck to stand by Colvare.
"You wouldn't mind keeping that wand at hand, would you?"
If my compatriots comments are sufficient warning for me to act, I fetch a javelin and cross the deck to stand by Colvare.
"You wouldn't mind keeping that wand at hand, would you?"
"You mean this?" Colavre says, pulling a little of the wand from a pocket sown into the sleeve of his cloak. "I always keep that to hand"
Colvare will then wander over to his goods, and collect his other weapons, and send Lenore to fly as far as she can and still keep the empahic link to scout around a bit...
Garton and Jum come out on deck. "Clear the decks!" barks Jum, and the sailors begin removing the clutter and securing valuable or dangerous items.
"Hmm, looks like this might be it," murmers Garton, and he draws his rapier, while Jum glowers in general and yanks out a big, two-handed spiked mace from somewhere. The rest of the men grap billhooks and belaying pins, and look frightened but grim.
"The men will help fight whatever's coming, if necessary," says Garton, "But you will have to take the lead and try and protect them as much as you can - that's the deal. And may the Host deliver us."
There is a sudden cry from Cleg, and he points at an indistinct, huge dark and elongated shape that lazily circles the ship under the water. "He's come! He's come! The Eater has come to take his own!"
"Silence, man!" roars Garton. "Stop your blubbering and hold fast - we fight for the Morgata!" Cleg shuts up and the rest of the crew give a ragged cheer.
"Keep clear of the rails, boys! Anyone forced overboard is shark s#!@."
Shagraat remains near the caster and hefts his javelin.
EDIT: failed Search and passed Listen checks.
"Something's coming up the stern."
Mirra forces away her nausea and grabs her handcrossbow and rapier. "I am guessing that the creature in front of us is a giant squid." Mirra quickly mutters under her breath and her armor glimmers for a second.
She points the crossbow at the rail where she hears the scrapping sound. "Some think is coming over the side, be prepared. I would say try to just knock as many into the water as possible until we get to close to the squid."
