As you approach the ship, the surf rings hollow through the gaping holes in the hull. The lack of lower decks is a sober reminder of the level of destruction that you avoided.
As you survey the beach, you see random pieces of flotsom and seashells littering the beach.
Yuuwa's net is cast a few times, each coming back with a fish or two, and finally with a trio of respectably sized fish. Her mastery of this method and technique are obvious.
The bodies of old Cookie and the First Mate have remained as you left them, undisturbed by any further degredation by predators. There is also enough sailcloth and debris about the ship to fashion a decent enough burial shroud, if desired.
Origen waits for those more experienced to lead the way.
"Looks like there's something over that way," Jonagher announces, pointing between the shipwreck and the rocks. A piece of wood floats along in the current. "I'm not sure that one belongs to the Jenivere, though. It's got a name on it. A nameplate from another ship."
He squints and steps up higher on one of the rocks. "The Tattooed Lady? Well! There's a fine name if I ever heard one! Looks like it drifted from the western side of the cove. We may have a few more shipwrecks besides ours to scavenge..."
"There would also seem to be too little debris considering the fact that the Jenivere's lower decks are almost completely gone," Isandril points out after a look at the shipwreck.
"A little odd that, yes? As for other shipwrecks, perhaps they would be worth a look if we come across them," the elf offers. "And there is nothing wrong with a little ink on a lady Jonagher... since we are talking about ship names and all, of course."
"More shipwrecks . . . How about a seaworthy vessel? That's what we need."
Torden continues his best to help the group find its way and find something to eat. Oh, and avoid nasty beasties.
"Where do you think we are on this island, Yuuwa? I couldn't make much sense out of the chart, but that shoreline looks vaguely familiar."
"Maybe the currents washed the Jenivere's wreckage to some central point. Or maybe whatever we saw in the water likes collecting debris from ships."
"Maybe it's just me," Bran says, standing cross-armed and watching the wreckage and the surf, "but the tide and current seem...a little off, don't you think? I didn't grow up around an ocean, so maybe I'm just seeing things. Also, where's all the wreckage? A hole that big would leave a helluva lot of debris."
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[ooc]Yuuwa checks
K GeoProf Sailor
Survival
"Yes Bran, there does seem to be quite a bit of boat missing with no evidence of where it went. "Tattoed Lady" Another fresh shipwreck? Perhaps additional survivors? Trying to rack my brain for what type of vessel and who the captain was. Give me a moment... It might come to me." She makes another casting, hanging the fish along a string from her backpack. "The dread pirate Captain Quellig was a particularly cagey and paranoid individual. He had the intelligience to make him dangerous and wherwithal in regards to finding the right workers for the job at hand. Anything he has had a hand in is bound to be complex and unexpected. Fortunately he was hung. Unfortunately, he did state he hid his loot on this isle; the treasure map, if authentic, indicates clues but not danger. Perhaps the Tatooed Lady was a treasure hunter charter or another pirate crew. Aye. We best be hunting for more than animals.
Yuuwa consults the map provided, notes the unusual current and tries to get her bearings. She's likely to take a good portion of sailclothe to start crafting her own map(s) on the fly. Her gestures and grumblings indicate her frustrations with improper tools and lack of information for not knowing exactly where she is.
Despite everyone's knowledge and experience, you are unable to divine where on the map you are. There just doesn't seem to be enough information. All you can deduce fro certain is that you are somewhere along the northern coast. Without further markings or some new piece of information, you are unable to pinpoint an exact location.
The curve of the cove, and the direction of the tide, would indicate that the Tattooed Lady may indeed be somewhere down the beach. Distance is an unknown, though the sign does in fact looked soaked with water. Also, the wood seems well worn and weathered.
As the hunters have trekked about the island, not going too far from camp, you have been able to determine that you can move at a labored walking pace through the thick jungle and underbrush that you are finding now. You have been able to cover about 1 mile every 2 hours so far, due primarily to the fact that it's never possible to move in a straight line in the wilds here. Movement has been easier at the coastlines and on the trails from what few you have used.
Finally, the charts are put away. Origen says, "Well, that was frustrating. Maybe if we go eastwards along the coast, we'll recognize something from the chart, or at least find the Lady."
"Of course, we might have some tracks to follow instead. Isandril and Bran, did you see any sign of the crew?"
"But no matter what we all decide, I'd like to take care of Cookie and the First Mate before we go any further."
"I saw nothing," Bran replies. "We can't wait around for long - we need to find something to eat and get back to camp before the storm blows in. What are you going to do for the bodies? Burial won't work - burning might, but I'm not wasting my oil on 'em."
"A cairn of rocks, maybe?" Origen looks at the clouds on the horizon, which now even he can recognize as signs of a storm. "No, we don't have enough time. Yuuwa, what did you do if anyone died aboard ship?"
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Yuuwa, rethinking this whole chain of events and what part the deceased played in, shunts aside the negative thoughts and remembering the positive aspects of her former crewmembers. She asks Origen and Bran to assist her with moving the bodies to the deck. She rolls them within the sailclothe along with enough rocks to overcome buoyancy, places a gold coin in their mouth, then ties the clothe shut. "It aint fancy but they'll not mind. To answer your question, Origen, most professional sailors prefer to be returned to the sea. Cairns are for landlubbers. The gold coin is symbolic to pay their way to the afterlife, often why sailors wear gold earings. In case they get washed overboard, they'll be able pay passage with that." She shifts the sailclothe bodybag to the edge of the deck, pauses to look at the sky again, then begins a Blessing (as in spell) to Gozreh and a brief remembering of the deceased, good and bad. When she is done, she gives a final push off the deck, letting the weighted cloth coffins splash and sink below the water's surface.
Yuuwa stares at the horizon, tears misting in her eye, with a somber tone, she says "Alright, lets get back to the job of surviving."
"Well said!" Jonagher agrees, "I'd drink to that if we had any rum left..."
I can't imagine water over my head when I die instead of stone Torden thinks to himself. He refrains from saying anything lest the others believe he's questioning their decision.
Instead he further urges them to move on. "I'll have a drink with you Mr. Witt. However, let's get to gathering some more food and figuring out what's causing you all to be so concerned with the water."
As the bodies slip beneath the waves, a slight breeze pushes the hair out of your faces and carries the scent of wildflowers on it.
After searching the beach extensively, no other tracks were found.
"Let's get going, Jonagher. We still have time to chase this new Lady that has captured your fancy. Fickle, fi--"
[Origen's] sharp eyes catch sight of bobbing in the waves near a downed tree. It seems some sort of colored cloth.
Origen stops in mid-banter. "Wait. There's something odd by that tree." Origen points out the cloth. He cautiously walks over to take a closer look.
On closer examination, you see a rag that you remember one of the sailors used to wear all the time. It is connected to a bit of scalp.
Origen grimaces. "I recognize that rag, but something bad happened to the sailor wearing it. Did it wash in from the bay, or does anyone see tracks by it?"
Noticing Origen pick up something, Isandril approaches the man in order to take a better look at the item.
"If I am not mistaken, it is a bandana. One of the sailors, Peg-leg Simmons, wore that," he offers as he grimaces after noticing the bits of scalp still attached to the fabric.
"I wonder if whoever is responsible for the First Mate's and Cook's demise had something to do with this as well."
"Gads," Torden curses seeing the bandanna and remains. "It's just not getting any better. We really need to take measures to get off this island and soon. It's only matter of time before whatever has killed all these folks comes searching for us. I care not of any lost treasure. Let's get moving on to our business with the Society."
Torden looks around nervously, certain that some nasty creature of the sea will rise up to make a corpse of him.
Hold it together he thinks to himself. If you're going to keep everyone else's morale up, you've got to keep your head and wits about you.
"Forget the dead - it's the living that concerns me," Bran says, wrinkling his nose at the macabre bandana. "We better find food and quick! The storm is coming and we can't stop it! I want to be back in camp before it hits."
Bran walks off, search for animal tracks or any type of food he can find.
"Well, hold on..." Jonagher offers. "This scrap of Peg-Leg would seem to indicate several possibilities to me. Either, he was slain near here and his body also lies close by...in which case, perhaps we should find it and see to its burial as well? Or, someone scalped him...and, seeing as how no one aboard the Jenivere would ascribe to that kind of barbaric practice...it could mean we're not alone on this island...and those who also inhabit it are a bit more savage than us."
The half-elf works his way off the ship and through the rocks, carefully picking his way so he can approach the downed tree. He then searches for any further remains or sign of Simmons.
"....it could mean we're not alone on this island...and those who also inhabit it are a bit more savage than us."
"That's plausible. And unless this floated from a coastal village somehow, it also means that an armed party of the natives has come very close to us. Too close, if they're fond of taking scalps."
Origen helps Jonagher look for the body.
Torden looks around nervously . . . .
"Torden, at least they appreciate good drumming. And if I'm scalped, you can keep the hat."
Origen looks up at the sky again. "As Bran said, the storm is coming. Could we chance looking around the beach a bit, or do we head back now?" Despite the increasing force of the wind, Origen seems tempted by the possibility of exploring.
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"Aye, as the waves pick up, the fish tend to scatter a bit and the net is more likely to tangle. I guess I'll pack it away. Still I'd like to pace the shoreline a few more miles, possibly find a lighthouse ruin or tidal pools. A little rain never hurt anyone, plus we don't have to worry about capsizing or running aground anymore." [crickets chirping]. "Rough crowd. Is it too soon for that?"
Yuuwa grins as she carefully rolls up the netting, unties the weights, stuffing it into the backpack with the fish. "Alright Origen, lets pick up the pace." She twirls her trident and walks in the direction of the cresting waves, figuring that any debris, dead or other delights will be carried that-a-way.
Yuuwa grins as she carefully rolls up the netting, unties the weights, stuffing it into the backpack with the fish. "Alright Origen, lets pick up the pace."
Origen looks at Torden and shrugs. "I suppose that it's only a bit of rain. Ready for a stroll along the beach?"
Then he follows after Yuuwa, keeping an eye out for sea scorpions.
"I doubt what is coming will be simply a little rain, but do lead the way I suppose," Isandril remarks with a soft sigh and a smile. Nevertheless, the elf follows the rest of them, keeping his eyes open for either sea scorpions and other prey or for any more signs like the bloody bandana.
"Anybody seeing anything, be it dead bodies, homicidal savages or edible crabs and other sea food?"
Nothing more seems to come of the search, though a rising tide could have easily washed away any tracks closer to the water.
To punctuate Isandril's point, a clash of thunder can be heard in the distance.
Yuuwa starts to walk north on the beach, following the crest of the waves. The waves do take one a decidedly westerly bent as they begin to exit the cove.
Bran, having separated himself from the party a little ways, follows a game trail that seems to curve around the beach, and heard northwest. There are no obvious signs of game, though as you stop to take a break, you see a jungle goat in a clearing. It doesn't seem to have noticed you yet.
Origen notices something else about the grisly remnant. "This has splinters in it."
Origen stops for a moment and looks back at his companions.
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Origen notices something else about the grisly remnant. "This has splinters in it."
Origen stops for a moment and looks back at his companions.
** spoiler omitted **
Yuuwa concurs with Origen observations. Splinters in the scalp, but quite frankly, she is, um, "dis-inclined" to investigate further, although she mentions wrapping up the remnant in scrap cloth with some choice rocks, tying tightly with another Blessing from Gozreh before "stone skipping it" (, I mean, wading out into the surf a ways and gently allowing to drift down out of her hands.
In regards to Origen's spoiler,
Torden is more concerned with the surf than the storm. He will stick with the group, looking for the Tattooed Lady
Bran, having separated himself from the party a little ways, follows a game trail . . . .
Origen looks into the jungle after his friend. "Isandril, could you find Bran? I don't want him to head too far into the jungle if we're going after this ship."
"Certainly," Isandril agrees easily before moving away from the rest of them to go look for Bran. "I should be back in a few minutes."
The elf moves towards he saw Bran go a little earlier, intending to inform the warrior of the group's plan to look for the Tattooed Lady while the weather permits it and invite him along.
As Bran sits, observing the goat, Isandril comes out of the woods and taps his shoulder. He points up the beach, to the west, and then makes his fingers walk on his arm, and points to himself, as if to indicate that the group is going west along the beach.
Isandril notices as he does so that Bran is busy stalking a familiar looking jungle goat.
The storm certainly looks dark and ominous, but there is still a little time left before it looks like it will hit the island. Plenty of time to go exploring.
As Bran sits, observing the goat, Isandril comes out of the woods and taps his shoulder. He points up the beach, to the west, and then makes his fingers walk on his arm, and points to himself, as if to indicate that the group is going west along the beach.
Isandril notices as he does so that Bran is busy stalking a familiar looking jungle goat.
Bran nods to Isandril without taking his eyes off the goat. He slows pulls a hand axe from his belt, judges the distance, and hurls the axe at the goat.
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Yuuwa picks up a couple of pretty shells. "Gonna be a wonderful storm!" She walks along the damp sand, with the wavelets covering her feet. She sniffs the fresh breeze blowing towards the land. "Aahhhh, Love it! Should be on a vessel right now. My own vessel preferably. hmmmm. Let me look at those so-called "treasure maps" again." She starts humming a sailors ditty that might intrigue Torden, not normally sung amongst paying passengers, concerning Sailor's Life as ripples on the water erased by Gozreh's desire for an umblemished sea. It is not a happy tune, with pragmatic verses.
She will continue her exploration and looking for landmarks in this direction until the first raindrops or decently threateningly clouds look imminent.
Bran's axe whistles through the air and strikes true, dropping the goat in one clean shot. It doesn't even have time for a final bleat.
Jask had shown up, and volunteered to carry back the goat carcass and begin dressing it down for dinner. Isandril and Bran had returned to the beach and caught up with the group.
The party continues on, westard, along the beach. The beach curves back to the south a little, and the surf starts to pick up, as a light wind comes in.
The group stops to view the incoming storm for a moment and catch their breath. There is a flash of lightning that makes evening into high noon for a mere moment.
With the storm fast approaching, Origen follows the lead of his companions more knowledgeable about the wilderness.
Torden generally know little of living in the harshness of nature, but a memory from a night on the road enables him to assist his companion.
Bran blinks at the lightning flash and says, "Anybody 'bout ready for some goat?"
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Yuuwa has an "ahaa!" moment; glancing at the map, up and around, then back at the map, she states with confidence, "We are on the northern shore of the island, and " pointing at the map, "the cove that the camp is near, is on the northern shore near the middle. Near the top of the "sickle" of the island, the first cove on the map, not the one on the east side of the island near the top of the map."
She looks up at the mention of "Goat" and feeling the weight of the fish, "You know, that sounds mighty good right now. I'm satisfied with today's accomplishments. Anyone venture a guess on when the rain will start?"
"There's a good lad," Torden smiles at the offer. "Much better than sea-arachnid. Let's make haste and finish what we're after and get back for some goat."
Collectively, the group manages to catch the shadow of the tracks in the flash of lightning, Bran mentioning that they seem to be snake tracks of some sort, undulating up the sandy beach towards the bluff overhead. They seem to be...large...snake tracks.