At Jim's challenge at Whitecoat, Kaul shoots a look to Dibbs and starts a hacksaw chuckle;
"Hur-hur... 'Is Ring? Just tell 'im to bend o'er! Hur-hur-hur..."
Dibbets has been watching the were-rat warily with narrowed eye and hisses as he sucks in some air through his teeth. Affixing Whitecoat with a measured stare he pontificates "Best ye spill white hair... needs tae be sure ye we're what we think ye are... so best ye spill alla details frae start tae now... otherwise I might start 'avin me doubts. Mebbe it were some other fecker who'd done what we thought ye'd done... some other wee gnomey involved."
Clicking his tongue against his teeth Dibbs shrugs "Cos wi'out yer words an confession like... seems tae me all we found were a stowaway that's responsible fer killin a fair number o' tha Cap'n 'ere's men... and were trynae scuttle 'is ship jus now wi fire an smoke... so best ye talk eh? Or do I needs tae ask tha Cap'n what sea justice is due fer a murderin fecker like ye eh?" raising an eyebrow in challenge.
The pale gnome's distant expression doesn't change as he waves at his pile of gear. "You have a gnome-sized smock here? Mine will do fine. Perhaps if I'm treated with a little respect, I'll be more likely to entertain your questions."
Dibbs scoffs, making no personal move to see the gnome re-garbed "Funny... yer a roight barrel o' laughs." before turning back to the Captain "Cap'n sir... permission tae treat the weasel faced fecker wi' tha same dignity an kindness that 'e greeted us wi' below... That'd run tae me pissin on 'is 'ead afore shootin off his left b%%+#*& wi' me boomstick 'ere." pausing long enough to show the Captain that he isn't speaking entirely in jest... though Jimmer would recognize a demeanour similar to when he faced down the tattooed cyclops.
Kaul looms at Dibbs shoulder with a hacksaw chuckle, adding in his tuppence worth;
"Hur... Pretty please Cap'n. We'll leave enough o' the pale runt to question or jig at the end o' a rope..."
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Jim chuckles at Whitecoat's statement. "You're a stowaway at best, and were captured while engaged in hostilities against the lawful representatives of the City of Freeport and its Council. You've demonstrated yourself to be highly dangerous and resourceful as well, and there's no way I'm going to trust you with any of your gear. Including your clothes.
"That said, we'll get nothing from you dead or maimed, and it costs naught to treat you humanely. Cap'n, can you have one of the crew give up a tunic for the captive? Trews are likely out of the question 'less there's another gnome aboard. Once you're dressed, we'll talk, hey?"
Drake chews on his mustache and looks bedeviled. "I've half a mind to just let you decide what his fate will be. I don't have Robert's patience or wiles to deal with spies." He pulls a shirt from his wardrobe and tosses it at the gnaked gnome. "Here this will cover you well enough for now."
Whitecoat slips the shirt over his head and takes his time rolling up the sleeves and tying it closed a bit around his neck. Then he sits on the deck, tucking the shirt around his legs and looks at Jim with disinterest.
Cupping a hand to his ear Dibbs expectantly waits for the words to start...
Kaul lets the silence descend for a few seconds, then scowls maliciously at the pale gnome;
"OI! YE FECKIN' LITTLE PALEWORMED BASTERD! Best ye start talkin' now or Lopps' will be 'avin' a hard word..."
The thug brandishes his fell hatchet and steps forward with a murderous leer;
:
The gnome doesn't appear to react to Kaul's threats, but he does fix his unblinking pale eyes upon the half-orc and begins speaking. "Do you know much about gnomes? Of course not, so listen. We gnomes originally came from a Place that is very far and yet very near, like this world, but not at all like this world. A Place where we never sickened, grew old, or died. We never suffered."
"I never knew that Place. I was born here, on Gogpodda. Do you know it? The Wandering Island? A fascinating place to grow up for a gnome. An agglomeration of flotsam: junk, seaweed, ship salvage, fishing gear, bloated dead things at times. All traveling on the wind and tide and changing as parts sink and new stuff clings on."
"Eventually anything grows tiresome though and when a Consortium ship blown off course happened by I joined the crew to see the great lands that I'd heard of: imperial Cheliax, the freezing lands of the Linnorm Kings, mysterious Osirion, and exotic Katapesh. I made myself useful to the Consortium. I had an aptitude for alchemy and I always had work producing necessary things and even magical potions."
"This world is not the Place that I mentioned before though. There is sickness and infirmity and age and death. There is always suffering and death. My greatest value to the Consortium was my productivity and specialization often leads to the greatest productivity. My job was to manufacture only the few most marketable items required by my supervisor and I became a virtual prisoner tied to the workbench. I lost interest in this world and succumbed to the bleaching. As I wasted away, death grew nearer and I resolved myself to the end. But I did not die. I become something other. Disease had made me better than I was before. I will age no more and I am no longer a stranger to this world."
"The Consortium wanted to see what profit might come of my new form and allowed me to pursue my own interests. I became a pathologist of a sort. Disease is my area of study. Do you know the saying, that which does not kill one makes one stronger?"
Dibbs keeps his mouth shut, forestalling thoughts of interjection by mildly grinding his teeth. Bloody 'ell, sanctimonious piece o' sh1te... but best keep peace or he'll shut up agin
Kaul locks eyes with the pale gnome and listens to his words and story intently.
He nods, frowns and grimaces at random points in the tale, then adds his own take;
"Hur... I do indeed Paleworm... but I coined another... That which is stronger than ye will feckin'' kill ye... Hur."
The scarred thug chuckles;
"See Ol' Kauly is the strong one 'ere. Hold Lopper... a blood hungry axe o' that frozen North ye mentioned. Her last owner was risen dead and I killt him an' claimed her virtue... Only the strong can wield 'er."
He presents the fell hatchet with a leer before continuing by raising his claw;
"Now this is the claw o' The Jemma Redclaw. Put 'er down, then replaced meat on me arm fer this beautiful mess o' metal an' hinges. Makes me stronger."
Kaul flexes the metal limb as it emits a grating metal whine, before adding more;
"Ol' Kauly hisself has been the sacred Apostle O' Tum-Bobo... Ran with the apes an' hungered fer man-flesh... Could 'ave been a livin' god... Some back in Freeport still thinks I could. So don' ye think ye've got the mono-poly on pain makin' ye better. Kauly been in pain since he was birthed. Been peddlin' pain since afore I grew hair on 'is stones. Still am... jus' now I is damn good at it. Afore my day comes all from seas and streets 'll know my red name. Fear it. That Paleworm is strength... Hur..."
Jim holds up a hand to Kaul. "Bide a moment, mate. Now, Whitecoat, your tale's a passing strange one, and I'm thinking I missed at least half. But what I did hear is that you've no particular loyalty to Aspis--that it's a matter of chance you fetched up with them. Tell me...how'd you feel about pledging to the Council?"
Jim's question put to Whitecoat raises the bile in Dibbets' craw, flushing him with a swift burst of anger. He forces it into some degree of restraint before growling "Seems ye memory might be runnin a bit light on what this fecker woulda done tae Freeport wi'out a care inna world. Boiled tha brain o' alla Kauly's mates, set down 'sploders tae take out tha council... bastard even had a burnlin in 'is lair. Ware yer words n' offers Jimmer... cos fer me thinkin there's only one choice at work..."
"Does 'e talk an' earn tha short drop? - or do we gi' tha bastard over tae tha Bloodsalt and let 'em do 'im slowlike."
Captain Drake nods along with Dibbets' words. "He's killed nearly a dozen of our own aboard this ship either directly or from the sea devils he's chummy with. Maybe his cooperation will get him a long time in the Tombs rather then a short step and swing, but I don't think the Captains Council will be taking him on, Jim."
Whitecoat doesn't seem to take notice of the side conversation. His pale unblinking stare remains on Kaul. "But what if you could become an ape and pull a man apart by brute strength with no need for an axe?" His eyes alight on Kaul's tattoo. "Or a shark perhaps and tear pieces out of your foes with your massive jaws, drinking their ebbing life blood, and absorbing their strength as you devour them body and soul?"
Kaul pauses as he weighs the gnomes words of violence;
"Hur... Reckon I manage them things on me own... Did the monkey thing already... Almost lost meself... You sayin' them powers can be 'ad by the likes o' us? How so?"
Corliss keeps to himself but listens intently at this opportunity to learn a bit more about the past adventures and misadventures of his new mates.
Dibbs growls a bit as Kaul inquisitively questions another way that he might fly hook lock and sinker off the rails before prodding the white gnome back in the right-ish direction "Where tha feck do tha sea devils come in... an' what've tha bastards what give ye free rein got ye cookin up fer Freeport the now like?"
" You sayin' them powers can be 'ad by the likes o' us? How so?"
The creepy gnome only has eyes and ears for Kaul. "Of course. You know how. The 'curse' of lycanthropy is no curse. It is a boon. A virus that makes you more than human or orc: your senses sharpen, you are stronger and tougher, mundane weapons barely hurt you, you are ever armed with deadly jaws and teeth. Yes, the power of the great shark could be yours..."
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The scarred thug's brow furrows, then he focusses as Dibbs' withering stare can be felt...
"Hur. We put down plenty o' them sharkers... Ain't so tough... I got plenty more questions. but I'll save 'em fer after ye answer Dibbs..."
Whitecoat's gaze lingers on Kaul, then flicks over to Dibbets. The wee sleekit psycho continues. "I studied with the renown Dr. Dauvulus for a brief time. Perhaps if I had stayed in his tutelage I would have witnessed the plague that ravaged Korvosa, but I was reassigned to Bloodcove. Not that much of a sacrifice actually, the festering jungles proved fertile grounds for my studies."
"You are familiar with Bloodcove, I believe. That answers your second question. What does the Aspis Consortium have planned for Freeport? Whatever it takes to undermine the leadership and destabilize the city so that the Consortium can consolidate its only true rival between Bloodcove and the Inner Sea."
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Dingus, after changing into a fresh outfit of a yellow belly shirt, and green corduroy bell-bottom pants enters the questioning room in time to hear Whitecoat's last statement. A very pissed off looking Richard is draped about his neck like a fashion boa, with ribbons tied around his torso.
The serpent man lunges at the gnome his fangs fully exposed and dripping venom. Even Richard is startled at the passion in his voice, and coils about the man a bit tighter. If not for the two burly sailors catching the slight sorcerer, and holding him elevated his feet treading air...
Intimidate
He then begins to hyperventilate when he sees Kaul not turning their sworn enemy into mincemeat.
"Kaul! has he entranced you? Snap out of it... kill him before he kills us.
Sense Motive
The monologue is once again interrupted as Whitecloak falls silent at the flamboyant sorcerer's entrance.
Whitecoat has stood up and backed up a short ways from the wild-eyed sorcerer. You see the first glimpse of emotion in the slightly curled lip marking the bleaching's dislike.
With a restrained sigh Dibbs holds up a hand "Wait fer now Dingus... wee bastard were just about tae make wi' words worth hearin" he states... hopefully...
The look of distaste does not disappear from the bleachling's face as he turns to Dibbets. His countenance looks distant and dispassionate once again upon seeing that the sorcerer has been restrained. He shrugs. "The sahuagin are useful tools. What better ally than one that is easily satisfied and will make no claim upon the lands that you conquer?"
"Close-like, but still nei answerin tha pertinent... what 'in particular' does ye bastard masters an yer putrid self ha' in store fer Freeport at his minute like..." raising an eyebrow and wondering if the gnome was ever going to anser a question straight up like.
The weird gnome raises a long feathery eyebrow to mirror Dibbets. Still in a languid tone, he continues. "I had thought that halfling's had keen hearing. I guess I was mistaken. As I said, under the leadership of the Council, Freeport has become the most stable and profitable port in the region; more so than Quent, Port Peril, or even Bloodcove. The Consortium will seek to use whatever indirect means it can to disrupt the Council to bring the City under the Tricoiled Pennant. At this moment, it appears that you have disrupted our plans once again, but the Consortium's pockets are deep and its reach long."
Dibbets rolls his eyes before addressing the Cap'n "Roight then... fecker dinnae know frae squat what tha bastards were up tae apart frae what we broke open today eh? Ye happy takin responsibility fer tha bugger? Cos I ain't" waiting a moment to ensure that the Captain is indeed willing before making to move out into more open space.
The captain nods. "I'll take responsibility then. Just not sure the best way to keep this rat secured and not calling the rest of his vermin kin to harry us again. Wish I had a silver net or something. Maybe we should just seal him in a barrel and pull it behind the ship. Pull him up now and then to check on him and maybe give him a scrap of cheese."
Corliss has no answer for the gnome's wererat powers, but he whispers a possible future strategy to the others when they're out of earshot from Whitey.
"I s'ppose I could cast spells an' make the little fella blind and/or deaf 'til we gets back to civilization. Might hamper his castin' abilities an' general troublesomeness a tad. Want me to pray fer a slew o' them spells on the morrow?"
Dibbets takes his leave to enjoy the wind that now catches the sails moving the ship onward for Freeport. Captain Drake nods as he comes to a decision. "Alright, I think that Captain Roberts would want him questioned by smarter men than me, but I don't trust him aboard so it's in the barrel and over the side for the rat. We'll have him trailing far enough that any squeaking won't be heard over the surf." So saying he calls for a barrel and rope to secure the wererat.
With the ship underway, most of the crew are either resting or cleaning the deck of the slick gore that fouls it from the dire battle. The night is dark and the captain doubles the watch to keep eyes forward for danger and aft on the barrel dragging behind.
Corliss uses his healing channels to bring the crew back to full power as the Black Dragon resumes its voyage back to civilization. He also loads up for daily castings of gentle repose for the dead crew members, since Captain Drake refuses to bury them at sea in the sahuagin- and shark-infested waters.
Kaul grumbles about making it easier for the sharkers to reclaim their white rat, but can't think of a better solution.
The scarred thug then keeps his beadies affixed on the bobbing barrel as he mulls the innuendo of brutal power that the fell alchemist tabled, weighing the options in whispered conversation with his axe...
Jim relaxes a bit on the way back, keeping an occasional eye on the pale gnome.
Over the next couple of days, the ship skirts the southeast coast of Shark Island and then bears due north passing through the channel with Nalt's Island. Jim happily falls back to the routines of shipboard life while Dibbets broods in the crowsnest speaking to no one other than a few words with Syncopit. Kaul lurks at the stern each night keeping a sharp eye on the bobbing barrel. Corliss tends the injured and blesses the dead safely stowed away. After nearly half the crew start complaining of fevers and headaches to the young priest by the third day, he senses something is up.
:
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Dibbs shakes his head as those around succumb to the travails of sore heads and hot bodies. Spitting into the surf he adds "Bastards ain't got aught salt innem nowadays. More rum... thass whats needed eh? More rum an 'ardtack"
All the complaining crewmen give poor Corliss a headache. In an unrelated development, he feels a bit feverish.
"Did I just dream it or did the lil white rat break open a flask or vial right afore we cornered 'im?" he asks his unaffected mates. "I'm guessin' the wee bastard loosed some sort o' contagion on this here vessel...."
The normally active and carefree priest feels as if lying down might be a better idea. Captain Drake looks on with concern as half his crew are suddenly barely able to do their duties as they knead their foreheads and squint painfully around in the daylight above decks.
Captain Drake appears spared the malady, but he looks like he's suffering a bit of a headache nonetheless. "It does seem too suspicious, eh Corliss? Run the yellow jack up. Whatever we've got, it's my duty not to spread it. We're a plague ship and under quarantine until we get this under control."
Kaul nods in sage agreement with his smaller companion as the two misfits stave off Whitecoat's contagion.
At Corliss'
"Hur... Most likely the little basterd 'isself is the source."
The thug nods towards the bobbing barrel;
"Maybees he knows how to lift it... or treat it... Barter a better passage than a keg?"
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"Garn," is about all Corliss has to say on the matter. He changes his routine, using guidance along with his medical knowledge to examine and treat each infected crewman.
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Watching the yellow flag rise Dibbs growls "Fegh... nei chance o' any fun wi' that bastard hoisted." frowning a bit more before squirming. Caught halfway doon his back wedged in between his seaweed kilt and bandolier Dibbs fetches out a crusty and long forgotten length of wood. Waving it at Corliss he queries "Any chance this'n might lend a hand eh?"
The wand itself ain't much to look at... and it seems like it might have been caught in one of the halfling's fat rolls for the best part of three years...
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Once Dibbets explains what the gnarled twig-thing is, Corliss becomes hopeful. He suggests using a charge from the wand to heal himself. Then, if he and the halfling can figure out exactly what the malady is, he should be able to treat the sailors with more mundane methods, reserving the wand for future emergencies.