Wyn bends over and pulls Ollivor to his feet, though her grip seems less firm than usual. "Come on. It's a hard night, let's just help'em get through it."
Once she's sure Ollivor's on his feet, Wyn returns, looking up at her crewmates. She knows she doesn't have it in her to climb, but from below she tries to hold things steady to make it easy for them to hack at the mast.
"Truer words, Wyn," Ollivor says and adds in a disdainful mutter "Anyone seen our 'captain' during this?"
Thorn quickly follows lead after watching John pointed out the weakend area of the mast with his hack and Doran stabbing into the mast to create a greater separtion in the gash. Thorn spots his target just as John removes his hatchet from the mast. Lightning flashes across the sky reflecting off the swirling rain just as Thorn swings down his elven curve blade hard and true into the center of the briefly lit gash. The blade slices through the mast as like a hot knife through a stick of butter. Thorn Yells "TIMBER, Heads up below"
John, Doran, and Thorn hack at the mast to break it free. Doran has the most success out of the three, utilizing a subtle sailor's cut over the raw force of Thorn and John. On the deck below, Wyn holds onto the mast and keeps it from spinning out of control, while Ollivor and Vrunyar try to do their part from below. The group is making good progress, with the mast only hanging on by splinters. A few good hacks will bring it down, where it can be pulled into the lower deck and lashed down where it cannot roll and pitch the flagging ship. Without warning, a blast of lightning slams from the clouds above to the crow's nest of the remaining mast. It explodes with splinters of wood, whipped by the tempest. The sharp bits join up with the rain, pelting the entire group of sailors trying their best to stay alive.
Doran glances up in time to see the jagged splinters of wood crashing down from above, and hugs his body to the shattered mast, and manages to dodge all the falling debris. As he does so, he sees another large crack that has formed in the mast they’re fighting with. Once again, he sets his dagger into the opening, gauges the best direction to apply force, and uses the leverage to break the damaged mast free.
Wiping the wind-driven rain and surf from his face, he looks around at his companions with a grin on his face, ”We’ve done it, now let’s get the hell down from here!”
First weakened by the endless barrage of rain, then blinded by the flash of lightning above her, Wyn can neither see the rain of splinters nor summon the speed to dodge them. She cries out, staggering backwards, as she suddenly seems to be wearing spines of wood.
As she stumbles, her foot strikes Doran's bucket, which flies up and ricochets off her head for good measure.
Wyn goes into a sudden and colorful demonstration of every bit of sailor slang she picked up at the pub in Absalom.
The lightning bothers Ollivor not at all, even the tingle of it on his skin is surprisingly pleasant. The wooden shrapnel on the other hand? That tears through his flesh in a manner that surprises him. For some reason, he felt like scales should have stopped them.
But I don't have scales...
One particularly large shard has stuck in his thigh, but many smaller ones poke along his entire left side.
As Thorn prepared to make another fly by attack on the broken mast a flash of lightning strikes the crow's nest like a burning fuse chasing a powder keg. as the crow's nest explodes, sending a flurry of splintered wood debris flying into the gale force winds. Thorn quickly changed from the offensive to the defensive just in time to cover his face with his forearms. The splintered wood pelted and ripped his entire body leaving several bruises and cuts where the splintered wood failed to pierce his tough skin. Thorn yells "Damn lightning! First it helps you then it wants to kill you." Thorn makes a quick pass over his body checking for any major injuries finding a few larger pieces protruding from his forearms"Well with all of this wood sticking out of me I am going to have one long night pulling out splinters."
As the lightning strikes the mast, everything turns white. Too close!” he thinks and crouches in a ball as wooden splinters as long as daggers come raining down. Blinking away the blinding light he hears the mast begin to creak as Doran announces success. ”Aye! Now where will we put this?” he asks, helping to keep the mast secure before they lower it, while holding up a hand to aid anyone climbing down. His back is to Wyn as she encounters the bucket, but he does turn his head and see Ollivor with a lightning-made stake impaling his leg.
”I’ll get you fixed up as soon as the mast is secure. No shame in going below now.” He turns to the other side and sees a few more injured crewmates. ”Anyone can’t wait?”
Vrunyar reaches for something, feeling arm falter as he does so. He looks down and sees that one of the splinters penetrated his arm right between his right bicep and tricep. It could have been far worse, but the adrenaline of the moment kept him from feeling it until now.
|
Raising his hatchet triumphantly, the exultant roar of victor suddenly turns to a cry of alarm as John sees the dark, roiling stormclouds light up with a crack of blinding power. As if in slow motion, John sees the bolt of raw energy arc down from the clouds striking the crowsnest, although whether that was from the afterburn in his vision or the actual strike, the ragged waterlogged former marine is unsure.
Heart pounding in his eardrums, the man grips at the rope he had used as a counterweight. The mast shrieks and groans with a before giving way with massive toppling power. Throwing himself backward so as not to be carried down to the deck by the mast, John grabs onto the only lifeline left to him. The single rope.
Splinters rain all around him and John feels the rope bite hard into his wrist as his forearm takes the full weight of the fall. Something in his arm pops and he feels himself peppered with jagged splinters all over his back and neck. Swaying in the wind, like a parody of a hanged man the rope holds. John looks up into the storm. He feels the anger and hate welling up inside of himself. All of it, ever last bit of the pain, loss and frustration he had felt since the untimely capture of the Empty Lighthouse rising up in his chest. There was so much furious rage and soul crushing sorrow there.. The absence of his wife, the death of his friend, the loss of his leg, his discharge from the navy, the bullying by Plugg and Scourge. All of it.
Hanging from the rope, half-delirious with pain John looked up into the heavens and a bubble of mad laughter ripped out from his throat.
And then the rope snapped...
John starts to slide as the ship reels, but Doran grabs him by the wrist. Thorn leaps to his side to help drag John back towards the gaping hole in the deck. Meanwhile, those on the deck below start pulling the broken mast down through the whole. Slick with rain and blood, the splintered deck offers no resistance. With the pull of the crew, the mast comes down into the lower hold until it comes completely through. The trio that climbed up to free the mast clambers down exhausted, bloodied, and drenched. As soon as the mast clears the deck above, the crew splits into two parts. One lashes down the mast completely, ensuring that it will not loose itself and throw the ship into another teetering tailspin. The other group quickly covers the gash in the ship with whatever pieces of wood they can find. Hojo hammers the boards shut, doing the best she can with the materials at hand. Water leaks through the gaps in the board, but it keeps the most of the elements away - especially the frigid wind.
The minutes of terror begin to stretch into hours as the ship careens through the water at the mercy of the wind and rain. The crash of lightning and thunder startle the crew every few moments, eventually numbing them unless it seems directly atop the ship. Fortunately, no more blasts of lightning strike the Man's Promise, while Besmara seems intent on giving the Rahadoumi ship as much as it can handle. Sporadically, the ship's keeling seems as if it will finally capsize - but each time it rights itself as waves crash into the ship from all sides. Even those with strong sea legs and stomach feel horrid, as the spinning and rocking and jarring slaps of water against the hull combine for a truly sickening motion.
The storm seems as if will never end, pelting nature's rage against their tiny vessel. The ship stops abruptly with a scraping sound, throwing everyone on board to the deck. What they feel and hear is as terrible to a sailor as banshee's wail; the Man's Promise has run aground in the storm. While the sudden stability is not unwelcome, it spells dire trouble for the ship and its battered crew. It rocks and sways as the storm continues its assault, but stays fixed to whatever it ran aground on. Exhausted but determined, several of them rush down to the bilges to check if the ship is taking on water; in a small miracle, it is taking on more water than the bilges can handle. Whatever holds them must not have pierced the hull of the ship too terribly, which means they may yet free themselves and survive Plugg's terrible first night as captain.
The storm breaks not long before dawn. Beleagured and barely believing that they survived, the crew shuffles up the stairs to assess their fortune. The morning light shines upon the top deck: the main mast is gone, and the deck is otherwise in ruins. If not for Doran's efforts, none of the sheets would have survived the terrible storm. Only one of the ship's boats remains, with the snapped ropes of the other spinning aimlessly in the light wind. Peering over the side of the ship, they can see what the ship struck: a coral reef that comes within a few feet of emerging from the clear water.
A jungle island looms to the southwest, lit up by the morning sun at the ship's back. It is a small island, as tropical islands go, dominated by a high ridge on its western half. A huge boulder juts out of the eastern side, but a few miles of jungle separate the two main features. It appears to be uninhabited, though the dense jungle and imposing features hide the island's interior.
Though the ship came to its scraping halt a while ago, Wyn's senses still rock violently back and forth. "Stop the world..." she mutters. She trudges up to the deck, more to seek fresh air after the reek of men, piss, and vomit below than any other reason. As she does so, she picks at splinters of wood still embedded in her face, shoulders, and arms. The larger ones she got out earlier, but myriad smaller ones remain.
Her eyes light on the nearby island, then on the reef which has the ship trapped. To her it looks like a beacon, paradise adjacent to the hell of the ship.
She looks around to whomever is nearest, "Can we go over there?"
Ollivor staggers to his feet and looks over the battered railing at the island, "Paradises are rarely as peaceful as they seem, but it does look promising. We may have to go anyway for wood if nothing else."
Gods my wounds hurt and I've never been so bone weary tired in all my memory.
Doran groans in an agony of frustration and anger as the ship grounds itself in the midst of the storm. No, please, no. Not after surviving the damn mast, now we’re holed on something we’ll never even see, and going to sink after all we’ve survived together. Got to check the bilge and see how long we’ve got.
He hurries below and is amazed and relieved to see that the pumps seem to be keeping up with the water flowing into the ship. ”We may yet make it out of this,” he says to John, who has come back down belowdecks to the bilge, as if he’s not yet done serving out a self-imposed sentence for some past crime he’s committed.
When dawn’s rosy glow spreads over the now-calm face of the sea, Doran takes a look around the deck assessing the damage. Gods, it’s as bad as I’ve ever seen a ship that isn’t several fathoms under! But it could be worse.
He studies their landfall a moment, then responds to Wynn and Ollivor’s comments about the island, ”I think you’re both right. We’ve got more hope in the fix we’re in now than I thought we would come daybreak. Let me get the crew thinking in that direction, before we have trouble with any of ‘em.”
He calls out to the crew to gather round, not caring for the moment what Plugg might have to say on the matter. Once most of them have gathered, he says in a clear voice, ”Right, swabs! I’m sure most of ye are thinking that this is the worst thing that could’ve happened to us, but I’ll tell ye, I’ve seen worse and I expected much worse from last night’s blow. We’ve got land in reach, which means water and food, and maybe even some timber we can use to rig a jury mast. We’ll have a stable base to use to try to warp the ship off her perch, and dry land to sleep on while we do it. Though Ollie’s right, we’ll need to keep a watchful eye out, no tellin’ what or who lives here already that might not welcome the likes of us.”
”Speakin’ of Ollie,” he says, turning to their devoted cook, but keeping his voice pitched so all can hear, ”I know you’re as tired as the rest of us, but I need you to get some sort of breakfast together, as good as you can manage, to give us all heart to get through what’s to come. We’ll have some heavy lifting to do to get the Promise so she’ll float again, and before that we’ll need a camp set up, and supplies sorted and organized, hunting parties formed, a watch list made…we’ll be busy.”
”So let’s get to it, folks! A couple of you help Ollie, the rest set to gettin’ the deck in some kind of order, and we’ll take a break for breakfast in two bells.”
Doran then turns and approaches the door to Plugg’s cabin, not relishing the prospect of the encounter to come. He knocks on the door and calls out, ”Cap’n? Doran here for orders, sir.”
”Speakin’ of Ollie,” he says, turning to their devoted cook, but keeping his voice pitched so all can hear, ”I know you’re as tired as the rest of us, but I need you to get some sort of breakfast together, as good as you can manage, to give us all heart to get through what’s to come. We’ll have some heavy lifting to do to get the Promise so she’ll float again, and before that we’ll need a camp set up, and supplies sorted and organized, hunting parties formed, a watch list made…we’ll be busy.”
"Aye, first mate. I need to see what damage if any has been done to the galley and supplies in it anyway before getting to it, but it should be serviceable. And I'll try not to bleed into the biscuits," He adds wryly. Trying to keep up the pretense of strength, he makes his way towards the galley and gets to work.
Much to his delight, very little of the stores were wrecked or ruined when it came to food. Indeed, he even finds a bit of honey, a true treat, that he had managed to slip aboard from the Wormwood without any officer noticing. Soon, the smell of baked bread drifts among the ship, but that is only part of it. What's bread without a fine stew to sop at? Chunks of meat and root plants join in a bubbling broth fit, and a few spices find their way into the same.
When the biscuits are done, Ollivor will go down to give the first one to ...
Owlbear. Both to check up on him, and to keep a promise.
In the hold, while the storm batters the ship, Vrunyar treats the crew’s injuries. Pulling splinters and pieces of wood as big as nails and daggers from arms and backs; sparingly using ointments on rope burns; bandaging only when necessary. He jokes with Ollie that any meat in the stores will be well tenderized and the crew black and blue.
As the storm continues and he begins to feel nausea conquering his dwarven stomach, he mixes an extract to combat this. He takes it and immediately feels better.
When the ship runs aground, he’s thankful the ship will finally stop pitching and rolling. Seeing the worry and frantic desire of the more experienced crew to check the bilge and hull, convinces Vrunyar that this development is actually worse than the violent bruising the storm was delivering.
As they go topside in the light of a brand new day, Vrunyar offers thanks to Torag and all the good gods. After an uplifting speech by Doran, Vrunyar goes to the infirmary to check the state of the medicinal supplies. Along the way he looks longingly at the solid ground he may soon walk upon if only for an hour or two. Perhaps he can find some herbs or botanical medicines on the island. He knew a few of the basics ones. Perhaps one of the Rahadoumi knew plant lore.
Ollivor tenatively approaches Owlbear, still lashed to the mast. His skin is rubbed raw from his struggles with the rope, and he lays slumped over. Ollivor can't tell at first if he even lives. He raises a hand to offer the simpleton the biscuit, checking for breath as he does. Owlbear's head rises blearily at the smell of the biscuit, and he opens his mouth weakly to receive it. Apparently, the storm's terror has exhausted him past his limits. As Owlbear chews on the biscuit, Ollivor loosens the ropes. Owlbear nearly collapses, sliding down the mast into a sitting position. He moans lightly, but fortunately does not lash out with his beefy arms. Ollivor beckons him to follow up the stairs to the main deck, using another biscuit to get Owlbear's cooperation.
Doran waits at the door to Captain Plugg's cabin, with nothing but silence to keep him company. After almost a minute, the door opens. Plugg, wearing pants but no shirt, looks out at him. The smell of booze nearly topples the halfling, who can see Aretta Banson half-dressed in a bed in the corner. "Yeah?" He squints out at the glare of the sunrise. He sees the chaotic destruction on the deck behind. "What the blazes happened out here?"
Doran hesitates for a moment, wondering how much he should tell him. "We got hit by a storm, sir. Hit hard. Took the mast out, and ran us aground on a reef. Nothing that can't be fixed, though. We just need some organization."
Plugg wipes the fatigue from his eyes. "Shit. The seas did seem rough last night." He steps out to assess the damage. He seems appreciative towards Doran instead of hostile. "Good thing I made you take the sheets down. Let's do a roll call, make sure no one toppled over, and then we can make some arrangements for fixing my boat up."
Ollivor pats the big man's shoulder as they reach the main deck, "You were powerful brave, Owlbear. Any man who can face his fears is to be admired. There's a lot of work to do, but the storm seems to be over. We'll be much obliged for your help."
When the rest come for their share of the food, Ollivor keeps an eye and ear on the mood of the crew, and if any know that Doran tried to warn Plugg of this storm.
Wyn moves, slowly and stiffly, to join the hands clearing off the deck. As best she can, she hauls and sweeps, but has little energy to comment upon much.
When Ollivor emerges from below with Owlbear, however, she remembers the poor fellow--how could she have forgotten? It was her doing that had him trussed up belowdecks, perhaps for his own good, but she sees the abrasions from the ropes on him and her heart breaks a little. There is no doing good in this place without harming too.
She cross the deck to Ollivor, offering to take his place in supporting Owlbear so Ollivor can get back to the mess.
With an effort of almost superhuman will, Doran manages to not roll his eyes as Plugg's ignorance of last night's events becomes clear. The same effort nearly kills him when Plugg attempts to take some credit for saving the ship and his crew, but the sea-weathered halfling keeps a straight face throughout. He turns away from the Plugg's cabin as soon as the man has finished speaking, calling out in his clearest command voice and trying to keep up the act he puts on before Plugg, "Those of youse standin' by and lollygaggin,' you heard the cap'n! Roll call on deck! Pass the word, all hands on deck to be counted. If you fell overboard in the storm, you'll be excused missin' roll call, but no other excuse will do!"
|
|
Incredibly exhausted from the nights long storm, John sat on a crate breathing heavily. His face was covered in red scratches still livid from the peppering of splinters. The maimed marine had taken his shirt off. The new days sun felt good on his back and he rubbed at his shoulder, arm and wrist tentatively. The arm felt mangled, but John hoped that the swelling would subside over the next day or two. Right now though it hurt like the devil. Wincing as he applied pressure to try to relive some of the knotting, John cursed to himself.
The rest of the crew waivered on their feet. Each man and women aboard the Man's Promise looked equal parts waterlogged and ready to drop to the deck from their efforts to the survive the storm. Looking up over the ships rail, John could see the verdant lushness of the island off of their southwest. Breaks of stone peaked through the jungle canopy and John could see birds flying in the distance. How long has it been since I have been on land? John thought as he winced in pain as his thick fingers dug into a particullary sore spot on his shoulder.
As of yet, the man had heard no one call "Land Ho".. Not a surprise John thought, considering that would have been the responsibility of whoever stood watch in the crows nest. Fractionally, the man looked back towards the shattered remains of the man. I wonder who was up there when the storm hit.. John thought morosely. I will have to find out I suppose.. we can have Sandara say a few words for him or her.
Sighing, John rose to his peg. He held up his hands in a cupping motion and hollered out Before lowering them with fatigue. Not a second later, John watched as Doran strode out of the captain's cabin and announced a roll call. The marine announced, loud enough for Plugg to hear it from inside of his cabin.
After announcing his survival, John sat back down upon the crate with a slump. Land.. John though again before glancing at Plugg's cabin. What was it I said before... settle your quarrels on shore... Smiling again to himself for the first time since his maniac laughter as he hung from the rigging, John shook his head. Seems to me Besmara, that you might have answered my call after all. This could be the change of wind I was looking for.
______________________________
Vrunyar is in the infirmary, when he hears the clamor and pounding feet as the crew assembles. The loud, clear voice of John bursts out like a challenge. Perhaps to the sea, perhaps to Plugg, perhaps to the sharks.
With one last survey of his medical supplies, the dwarf heads to the deck for roll call, thinking of excuses to get himself a trip to the island if asking to resupply medicine wouldn’t do it. I’m good with an axe. Chop down a tree for a mast. Sore arm or not. I’m a dwarf, who better to search for gold? Hunting. I could pick berries, find eggs, mushrooms. A porter too!
He cuts through some of the sailors to stand next to John. ”Is this where I should stand? You’d think I’d know by now, but new ship and all, the lubber that I am...HA!”
Wyn leans over toward Vrunyar with a smile. "Don't worry you're not the only lubber here. Don't know if I'll ever remember half of what I'm supposed to."
Ollivor was more than happy to turn over Owlbear to Wyn earlier, and gave a silent nod of thanks, and handed her a biscuit to hand to the big man if she thought it needed to help him stay calm "He's been through a hell of a lot I fear."
Later, hearing dual bellows out there, one from Rawkins and the other from Doran, Ollivor moves out to answer for the roll call. He's moving a bit less stiffly thanks to Vrunyar's aid earlier but still looks a mite pale and dog tired.
"Ollivor Myles, alive and cooking!" He announces from the crowd.
Feeling the warmth of the rising sun upon his face, Thorn slowly opens his eyes to a squint. The sun is beaming directly on his face and it is almost blinding. Using his hand to shield his eyes as he piers out through a new hole in the ships side, Thorn can see the light dancing a top the cresting waves beating against the lush island. Thorn pushes himself up to a sitting position and feels a quick and sharp pain in his arms during the process. Thorn quickly remembers the large pieces of splintered wood and debris still protruding from his forearm's. Thorn grabs a hold of the largest piece and rips it from his arm and tosses it to the deck. Thorn's face is like a smooth river stone showing no emotion or pain to the other members of the crew. "Damn Lightning" Thorn thought to himself as he continued to remove the wood from last nights exploding crow's nest.
Once Thorn finishes removing the wood from his body he stands to his feet at the sound of Doran calling out for roll call. Walking at a steady pace to stand next to his crew mates Thorn Syndergaard, At your service!
”Just shouting out our names is anarchy,” the dwarf says to those close by as a name is shouted from a recently freed slave. ”Anyone writing this down? Is someone going to shout out for Owlbear? Where is he?” he asks looking around the crowd.
After a few more names pass, he calls out, ”Vrunyar here! Ha! I’ll come around to check people’s wounds soon.”
Wyn taps Vrunyar on the back and then points to the hulking man leaning on her shoulder.
Looking behind him, Vrunyar grins at his own obliviousness. ”Owlbear too!”
As the roll call winds down, three fail to call their names out - four counting Owlbear, who squawks awkwardly when Scourge raps him with the butt of his whip. One is the Rahadoumi sailor crushed by the broken mast. The broken body of the man went overboard quickly after the ship found safety, with neither fanfare nor sentimentality. As a citizen of Rahadoum, the man would have likely found a service unbecoming, and his fellow sailors put up no contest of the arrangement. More alarmingly, however, are two names that they expect to hear and don't: neither Crimson nor Beshra make the roll call. Plugg seems outraged when he finds them missing. He shouts, turning as red as Crimson himself as he does. "They think they can escape at the sight of land? I'll track them into the jungle and maroon them on a desert island, buried to the neck!"
One of the "former" slaves very tentatively raises a hand. He speaks in halting Common, "I saw... Before morning, storming still... Some..." He struggles for the words before breaking into his native tongue breifly. "Vudu! Vudu! They come to ship, take two crew and pull off. They live but no awake." He seems terrified of whatever it was that took the pair.
Plugg's rage subsides quickly. To him, the prospect of kidnapped crew members offends him far less than an attempt to escape his grip. "Oh. Well, we can't spare the men to find them. We have plenty of work to do." With Doran's help, he divvies up assignments. There is no shortage of work to repair the ship. Even at peak efficiency, it will be a minimum of two days on near non-stop work to bring the ship to even a semblance of seaworthiness. The biggest task remains bringing a new mast up and fitting it with rigging. Plugg names himself in charge of this and assigns most of the crew to the task. Doran steers his choices away from the group of plotters, trying to get them all assigned to a single task on the island itself. His efforts pay off when Plugg gives them the task of finding food and water on the island to replace the fresh water barrels damaged in the storm.
One by one, the groups take the ferry of the single ship's boat that remains. They make it to the shore, and the boat returns to pick up the next group. It is a slow process, considering that nearly three dozen sailors need to be moved to the makeshift camp off the ship. Doran, John, Ollivor, Wyn, Thorn, and Vrunyar make up the last group to go other than Plugg and a few of his loyal crewmen. Plugg takes Doran's arm as the rest of the group loads themselves into the boat. He leans down and whispers to him, "They'll get weapons to hunt, but get them away from them. I don't plan on leaving this island with any of that group except the dwarf and cook alive." With the murderous instructions given to his "loyal" second-in-command, Plugg allows the boat to depart. With the powerful rows of a few of the former slaves, the boat makes its way to the shore quickly - yet it seems so far away.
Thorn quickly jumps into the small boat with his fellow ship mates once their turn finally arrives. Thorn is anxious with excitement at the opportunity to finally step foot on land once more. The possibility of the crew raiding a local camp of "VUDU" he tells himself perk his interests and imagination.
Thorn sits across from John on the fairy boat and looks back to see Plugg whispering into Doran's ear. The facial expression on Plugg's face and Doran's eye's momentarily expanding in surprise give Thorn pause. "This can't be good news, I feel we better watch out for more than just these VUDU.". Thorn elbows Wyn in the side as he gives a subtle nod in Doran's direction. "Best we keep a look out for Plugg to finally make a power play as Captain." in a low whisper.
Wyn realized she hadn't had much time to talk to Thorn until he elbows her. She respected his observational skills, certainly, and surreptitiously tilted her head to espy the conversation ending. "What we need to look out for is Doran. He's been between a rock and a hard place this whole time, and for us. Plugg's making him do all the work and get none of the credit, and it's going to get worse."
One of the "former" slaves very tentatively raises a hand. He speaks in halting Common, "I saw... Before morning, storming still... Some..." He struggles for the words before breaking into his native tongue breifly. "Vudu! Vudu! They come to ship, take two crew and pull off. They live but no awake." He seems terrified of whatever it was that took the pair.
Ollivor says to the fellow, "Easy..if you think of the common word for whatever it was later, you let us know, alright? Unless anyone else can tell us what a Vudu is." he tries to calm him, even if he can't understand much more.
When they get into the boat, he whispers to his friends, "Plugg maybe fine with two men taken, but I think we should go looking for them over odd jobs."
The roll call complete, Doran rolls his eyes as Plugg rashly concludes that Crimson and Beshra have fled the ship, after the mad, storm-wracked night they’ve all just survived – no thanks to their absent captain. Like as not, they were washed overboard in the maelstrom, poor damned souls. This perception is quickly changed as the Rahadoumi captive speaks up and reveals what he saw. ”Taken off the ship?” he mutters to himself, ”that can’t be good news. But at least they’re alive, or they were when they left.”
When Plugg’s attention turns to divvying up tasks amongst the crew, Doran sees an opportunity and weighs in on assignments, hoping to get himself and his friends working together, and perhaps even off the ship for a bit. He’s quite pleased to be assigned to lead the group that will look for food and water on the island, and oversees the process of landing the crew as quickly as efficiently as possible, before the mercurial Plugg can change his mind.
When Plugg takes Doran aside to tell him his plans for some of Doran’s friends, the Halfling first mate keeps all emotion off his face, but inside he feels a blend of rage and relief. Damn the man! Damn him to the hells! After all we’ve been through, all they did to save his ship, he’s making plans to kill them at the first opportunity. Well, at least I know what his plans are, and it’ll force us to act one way or another and put an end to this floating limbo we’ve been in. He nods, and forces a grim smile onto his face to placate Plugg’s murderous side.
He boards the boat with his friends, tells the slave to pull away, and they make quick time to shore. Once the boat has set off for the ship again, Doran points off into the distance as if indicating something to his friends, in case Plugg is watching them, then says, ”Plugg aims to have some of us die on this island – Thorn, Wyn and John. I expect he fears your abilities in a fight, should it come to that. He asked me to get your weapons away from you, so you’d be easier to finish off. I’m not sure how this’ll play out, but we need to be prepared for anything.” Turning to Ollivor, he says, ”And I agree with you, we need to look for our lost crewmates – but we can do that while we hunt up some food and water.” Continuing the charade for anyone watching from shipboard, he then sets off in the direction he was pointing, calling out, ”Come along! There’s work to be done!” loudly and clearly.
To the threat of her own life, Wyn just feels... coldly distant. Jaded. Same for general idea of Plugg's treachery... by this point, his pointless cruelty was just a constant of the reality she now lived in.
But, beyond the threat to John and Thorn, where her anger was stoked was on Doran's behalf. She stared ahead, rowing, but said with clenched jaw spoke quietly. "He's testing you, Doran. You asked for us to join the crew. He's not only questioning your advice, he's telling you to go back on it in the most permanent way possible. Probably 'punishing' you for being right about the storm. That 'the Andoran' and two known rebels would die if his plan succeeds is only icing on the cake."
She huffs. "He doesn't even care that bringing what's already a skeleton crew down by three bodies is an issue. Proving a point--and putting you in your place--is more important to him.
When word of the missing crew and “Vudu” reaches his ears he spends a moment trying to think if he’s ever heard that word before. ”Living but no awake” the former slave had said. Perhaps some sleep enchantment? Or perhaps creature fueled by dreams.
On the rowboat to the island, as he pulls an oar, the dwarf says, ”I think you’re right, Wyn. We know he wouldn’t have made Captain if he wasn’t cunning and tricky. We’ll have to be more cunning.”
Once on land, Vrunyar kneels, drawing handfuls of sand and letting it slide through his fingers. ”Oh Blessed Torag! Thank you for letting this dwarf touch land one more time.”
After kissing the ground, Vrunyar stands and inspects the light crossbow. ”Someone took care of it well enough. I thought the mechanism might have rusted some from the sea air and non-use. Maybe Quartermaster Gruk.”
The dwarf looks at the members of the hunting party. ”I’ll admit, I’m not much a hunter. I know, I know, quite a surprise, HA! Did a few trips in my formative years. All underground. Alchemy was more interesting and fun.
“Maybe we should set some snares. I don’t know where we are nor what animals we may find here. Hopefully some flightless birds. I’ll be on the lookout for peaches too. They might be in season if they’re here, right? Oh and if anyone spots any medicinal plants let me know.”
|
|
As the roll-call is announced and each member of the crew steps forward, John listens intently. At the announcement of Crimson and Beshra missing and "Captain" Pluggs callous disregard for the safety of his crew, John barely manages to stifle a snort. Crimson was a man that in many ways John respected. He was a sailor and a hard man, but he had been through tough times and shared a hate of Plugg that John found kinship in. Beshra, John admitted had never been more then in the background to him. Just another face among the crew. That said, a true captain had a responsibility to protect his crew. Every time a ship went into battle that captain held each sailor under his commands life in his hands and he had to carefully balance to risk versus the reward. This was something that John knew that Plugg would never understand.
Shaking his head, John's eyebrows raised as the Rahadoum in his broken speech tried describe that something else had occurred.
What in the steaming seas is a Vudu! John thought, thinking back to the tales that sailors told during the midwatch of terrors of the seas that might match such a phrase.
The problem John decided was the cultural divide between the new sailors and the old. If Plugg had wanted to, John was sure that he could have found someone onboard the ship that would translate. But Plugg didn't care and had already abandoned them to their fate. John wouldn't allow that to happen.
Boarding ax in one hand and his tarnished Andoran cutlass in the other, John finished adjusting his eagle embossed armor with a final snugging of a leather strap.
The longboat had set sail and the water lapped at Johns leather boot. Gods did it feel strange to be back on land. The absence of the rocking of a ship, the feel of the ocean below his feet. Something about it didn't feel natural. Not that John wanted to be back on the Wormwood or the Man's Promise. At least not as long as Plugg was captain.
So.. John said quietly, running his thumb along the edge of his cutlass with an nod. Plugg has decided that he will rid himself us after we do his dirty work. Shaking his head, John sighed. Gods if the man could not be so typical. Still, there was a comfort in the mans pattern. John and Plugg had been at odds since the Andoran arrived on the ship. At least now the die has been cast and it will be over.
Well I'm not surprise. John said with a finality, before shoving his blade into its scabbard. Turning back to the others, the marines face became hard. When the Man's Promise sets sail next, it's either us or him and I don't mean to go quietly. You all know the course we have set, since the first day we were press-ganged. Freedom isn't free. It has to be fought for. It's time we earned our. And... John said trailing. Frankly I'm glad it's come to this. Plugg murdered my friend and he means to kill all of us. He has shown his hand, but we still have the advantage.
Turning towards the treeline, John sweeps his hand towards the dense foliage. So this is what we are going to do. We are going to search the island. Find the food and water we need, regardless the ship can't sail without either. But more importantly we are going to find and rescue Crimson and Beshra in the process. Then we will settle the tally once and for all and we will have more allies at our back when the deed is done. Looking each of the members of John's inner circle in the eye, John nodded. What say you all?
Vrunyar meets John’s eyes and thumps two fingers on his own forehead. ”Remember what I pledged to you the night I gave you that. I’m with you,” the dwarf says. ”For Iakob and all the other pain and misery he’s caused.
”The numbers are about even between us and Plugg’s supporters. I think we could count on Jax and Arturo’s aid. Perhaps Sandra and Rosie. If so we might have an edge in numbers, but Plugg and Scourge may have the edge in raw power.”
He takes out a vial and holds it up. ”I made this mutagen for either of them. If anyone, except me, drinks it he’ll be nauseas for an hour. I was hoping to slip it into one of their drinks during dinner one night before we claimed the ship for ourselves. Now...maybe... Ollivor do you have any illusion magic? Bring illusions of some heads in a sack, offer a drink to Plugg in celebration, and take care of his brother...As we hunt, let’s think about this. Ambush, deception, what other options are open to us?”
Ollivor listens to John's speech and finds himself wanting to bellow a response of 'You bet your ass' but instead he answers, "I'm with you and Doran, John. It's time that bastard goes down, and this is as good a time as any."
He frowns at Vrunyar's suggestion, not because it's a bad one, but because he's just not gifted in that area. "I'm afraid I don't have such magics Vrunyar. I can blast with magic, and protect myself a bit, but the fancy stuff just doesn't come to me. Still, your plan is a good one, IF we can somehow smuggle the 'dead ones' on board quiet like, we'll have numbers more than we did before. Frankly, I'm not sure how many allies we can rally on ship. I've tried to make friends when I can, but just how far they'll go for that friendship I can't say. I can say I want Plugg dead. Him and Scourge, and I'd poison either of them for real if I could"
"Before we get too caught up in speechifyibg and plan-making, we need to actually do what we came for--find Crimson and that Quinn woman, and get food and supplies. AND not get killed by these 'vudu' things."
She drags the boat in and helps the other men secure it, and chuckles as the thought cones to her. "Maybe we can point the vudu at Plugg and kill two birds with one stone," she muses, merely speculatively rather than making a serious suggestion.
Still, first things first. I reckon if we look where there might be food, we may also find these vudu."
The sand feels strange under the feet of the crew, which has been on the water for weeks. In Thorn's case - years. Many of them felt like they would never know anything other than the wet wood of the deck, or perhaps the cold embrace of the sea. It is a small victory to stand on the sandy beach, even as the other sailors from the Man's Promise rush around to set up camp and find what they will need to repair the damage done by the coral reef. As soon as they step off the ship's boat, it returns to the Promise to retrieve the remaining crewmen.
The group looks out at [ulr=http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/assets/181811/Bonewrack_Isle.JPG]the island before them[/url]. They have landed at the eastern tip of the island, as it is the closest suitable landing site. The high cliffs lead directly into the jungle on the north side of the island. Towering palm trees stretch along the white sand beach, each around 50 feet high and crowned with a wide canopy of palms brimming with coconuts. The rest of the crew, arriving before them, has already found and cracked open many of the coconuts, enjoying the opportunity. Directly behind the beach, which extends about a hundred feet at the current low tide, stands a formidable jungle. The massive granite boulder - fifty feet high, at least - rises out of the jungle a quarter mile into the jungle. Climbing the fist would give them a commanding view of the entire island, including possible locations of food, water, and even where Sandara and Crimson might have gone.
John's mind tries to remember tales of the vudu. Over the years, he heard many stories of creatures and terrors that awaited sailors in the sea. Some were surely true, but some were just superstition or tall tales. With sailors, there is no way to tell. He recalls a story from another Andoran sailor who had once sailed to Arcadia (or so he claimed): they ran into a hive of shambling corpses - not zombies - controlled by aquatic creatures in their brains. He didn't know what they were called, but mentioned that he heard another shipmate call them vudu.
Without a map of the sea, this is just another nameless island. They were blown far enough off course that it could be one of a hundred tiny islands that dot the northern stretch of the Shackles.
Doran studies the layout of the island for a moment, then observes, "Well, we'll find neither food, water, nor our shipmates here on the beach. Let's head into the jungle, maybe see if there's an easy way to get on top of that great rock there and take a look around."
Continuing his ship-board habit of command without really thinking about it, he lays out the approach he thinks the group should take, "Wyn and John, why don't you lead the way, Thorn can bring up the rear, and Ollie, Vrunyar and I will go in the middle. And if I'm about to climb something, let's do a quick look around for buckets, damn things are dangerous."
Ollivor actually enjoys the feel of land under him. He has grown to love the sea even if he's not found of most pirates, but it is good to have something steady under him even if it's only the beach.
"Aye, Doran. Sounds good to me....and death to buckets." He smiles lightly
"Aye, aye," Wyn nods. "Come on, John, you and me gotta keep our eyes open. Vrunyar, these plants you want, what do they look like?"
Vrunyar falls into his place in line carrying a light crossbow. An axe handle sticks above his shoulder.
”Funny you should ask Wyn, actually I was hoping someone could teach me what to look for! Ha!” the dwarf says waving a hand at the jungle and looking expectantly at the elf. ”By the time I get what I need for practicing medicine the leaves, roots, and fruits are dried and sometimes additionally ground, chopped, shredded, soaking in alcohol, or any other preparation. Plus the few plants I can recognize probably don’t grow in the jungle, unless caves here are similar to the Five Kings. Bolka Dots, small mushrooms with rosy dots on the head. Taargick’s Wort, a low growing plant with serrated leaves growing out of a central whorl. It sends up a single stalk when it flowers. Almost like an umbrella. The leaves are used for healing cuts, scrapes, wounds like that. Ohhhh willow! Does that grow here? The bark is great for reducing pain. Bordungard is a shrub or sometimes a small tree. The leaves are more gray than green. They smell like licorice with a hint of citrus.”
Doran listens with interest to Vrunyar's description of the leaves and roots he'd like to find, then suggests gently, "Since we're walking into the jungle on an unknown island where these vudu things seem to live, maybe we could go a little bit quietly?"
"Forgive me for wanting to know what to look for before I actually look for it. I'm not stupid Doran, I'll keep my mouth shut once we get moving." Wyn snaps. Still exhausted and in pain from the prior evening's events, it was easy to take things personally.
When everyone gets in the suggested order, Wyn sets off aside John, and indeed says not a word unless she needs to shout a warning.
Thorn is suddenly caught by a sudden dizziness once they reach land. Thorn knows he has been at sea so long he can still feel the rocking from the waves as if he were still on a ship. Thorn is forced to take a knee momentarily to gather himself and center his equilibrium. Listening to the rest of his shipmates tossing out suggestions on how to handle their current situation, Thorn takes the time to embrace the ground beneath him and the lack of heavy chains holding him down. Too long had he been away from land and oh how he missed it.
The idea suddenly popped in Thorn's head "I could stay her when they finally take the ship from Plugg! I can handle what ever the Vudu are an make a new life for myself on this very Island. It will be my Island and I don't have to get back on that cursed ship." Thorn scanned the horizon slowly while taking it all in as he closed his eye's to visualize the great idea. The only problem was every time Thorn tried to see himself on the Island it was brutally interrupted with the image of Espen being slain by the winged devil on the Hellsmouth. Thorn could see Havaard's mangled and lacerated body set before his feet. Thorn knew he had sworn to revenge Havaard and Espen's deaths and he could not do it from this damn island.
The thought of staying on this Island any longer sickened him all of a sudden and he was ready to leave the Island to settle some scores long over due. Thorn quickly stood tall to straightened his clothes and adjust his weapons for comfort. Taking his long bow in hand he runs to catch up with the hunting party to brings up the back of the line Doran called out. "First things first, we find Sandara and Crimson, we fix our ship and then we kill Plugg and his wicked brother Scourge! I will have his whip for a prize to add to my collection and teach myself to master it without his help."