A few dozen feet into the jungle, Marco and Gatherine see two men dragging a third away - roughly in the direction of the waterfall. All three appear local, and wear dated and worn colonial dress.. as well as some tribal adornments. The two dragging the third man also wear fairly primitive light armor, and each have a bow on their back and club on their hip. One of the armed men has his hand cupped over their "captive's" mouth.
By the time Iolana catches up, they notice your arrival and stop. One yells out a few terse phrases in Polyglot.
Gatherine scowled and fired off a shot that rumbled like crashing thunder.
intimidatingly
Then she reloaded Twinbellows and aimed it directly at the pair,making her intent known.Drop.Him.
Not bothering to ready his crossbow, still slung casually over his shoulder, Marco continued to approach the men. He made sure to stay out of Gatherine's line of fire though.
Smiling easily, he put his booted foot up on a stump and did his best Captain Morgan impression as he addressed the men.
"Well, we would hate to stumble into a local affair blindly. Perhaps you could help us all first by telling us just who's lands we're on?"
Tusara tosses her hair for a moment before glancing at the third man, her face only having the barest hint of curiosity. "Of course, your lands and your business are your own, but I would personally be ever so grateful if you could tell me what this man has done wrong, so my friends could avoid incidents such as this ourselves. Heck, seeing as this is private land with private rules or laws, do you mind telling us what they might be, so we can show your customs the appropriate respect. Oh, and could you step a little closer, yes, take the man with you if you wish, my Polyglot might be a little rusty and its hard enough speaking it and straining to hear every word at the same time, so if you could close the distance a little further, that would be most welcome."
Certain that the others have everything well in hand, Garborn does the thing that has occupied most of his time ever since he left the island, eating.
Still painfully thin, he has made it a habit of snacking pretty much constantly.
I wonder what kind of trouble we will be in now?
Iolana too relaxes,sheathes her scimitar and waits for Tusara to end her speech.
The two armored men look to each other after Tusara's words. One nods to the other and he pulls his hand free from the captive's mouth... then speaks a few words to him.
The captive man turns to you and speaks in common Taldane... "We saw you go against the Gaunt. I came to ask you to help my people... against the word of the elders. They think you will bring the Gaunt's wrath to these shores. We are a peaceful people... and it has cost us."
The guard gently nudges him.
"I must go with them. I will be fine. My people are southwest of here at the base of the waterfall. They do not want you to come any closer than this."
"A friend of my uncle has a fruit tree and pigpidgeon farm to the north. He is a good man. He will help you if you need help. Good luck to you."
"My thanks for your kind words, while I might personally disagree with how your elders have ruled, my friends and I will respect their choice if that is how the majority of you all feel. We might however, take you up on your offer to visit your friend." Tusara responds respectfully, hoping that the man doesn't suffer too much harm for what seemed like requesting assistance.
Garborn perk up at the mention of fresh fruit and meat.
"F...food? I l...like food."
One of the tribal guards nods to Tusara in appreciation.
He adds.. in broken common "Gah-ood luck." as they depart.
Back on the beach, the crewman and other passengers have finished unloading supplies, and materials for erecting temporary shelters within sight of the two ships.
First Mate Du'Bing approaches as you emerge from the treeline. "You go'n'round explorin', aye? Unless you've got words on how we're meant to go about our day, I'll take the lead on the beach camp... aye?"
----- ----- -----
On beach...
First Mate Du'Bing, the dwarves Eubel and Havvy Ornrick, Aerys Mavristo the snarky lush, four rescued Mwangi men.
On ships...
Captain Boabdil, Jask the Garundi healer, Piendy Slurb the mephit, the four rescued from the underwater temple, the five remaining Bonuwat crew of the Moana Tarqona, and prisoner Captain Craw.
On a launch to Hell Harbor...
Bonuwat crewman Bill Pug and Ekjori.
You do not go far before you smell food cooking.. as you come closer you better identify it as roasting fowl. The jungle thins... (you are a few hundred feet from the beach... maybe 500 feet north of your camp)
Another hundred feet or so ahead, you see a large wooden shack. On the far {northwestern) side of it, you can see a pavilion area which shares the same wood-plank roofing as the main structure. A bit of smoke rises from it, and you can faintly hear voices.
Tall fruit trees have been planted in fairly ordered rows further northwest of the shack. You can also see over a dozen fat and squat birds milling about the trees... larger than turkeys.. with large curved beaks similar to that of a parrot.
Gatherine could hardly contain her glee at the sight of the fat,goofy birds. She rushed over excitedly to the pen,thinking merely of getting one into her hands to cuddle.
Garborns reaction to the surroundings are much more basic, as soon as he notices the smell of the food, as well as the sight of the birds and the fruit trees, his stomach begins to growl loudly.
Marco strolled along, peering down at the new birds. Puzzled by their behavior, he approached them for a closer look.
The birds scatter in a jerky waddle and let out mildly annoyed squawks.
A man with pinky-sized braids sprouting from his scalp exits the pavilion side of the shack, and smiles big... "Good day and hello! Sorry but Pigpigeon Fruit Farm closed now please come back another day!"
Gatherine perked up at the sight of the newcomer,her eyes sweeping him from head to toe in her usual appraisal of new things.
...Why're you all beat up...?she asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing.
Marco smiled in greeting...
Then he glanced back at Gatherine as she pointed out the injuries, then turned a sharper glance at the man.
"Yes. That kind of thing usually needs at least one other person... Who else is in that shack sir?" He asked pleasantly, fingering his crossbow.
Uh oh...
Garborn frantically tries to call attention towards the pavilion. Unfortunately, the combination of the desperation and the attempt at subtlety makes it seem like he has a stroke when he rapidly jerk his head towards the building.
He answers .. a little louder than necessary "Nobody here but us pigpigeons...." He looks at Garborn's "covert message" spasms, and looks back - as if half-expecting to see someone.
"You like them, yes?" He looks at the congregation of squatly birds, and points toward the largest - who is staring Gatherine down from a safe ten foot distance. "That one is Mel Tonby... not for sale, and his ladyfriends... " As he points out several, he lists off their exotic names.
Gatherine glanced over at Carbon,who seemed to be having another nervous fit,before considering the reason behind it.He didn't spazz out randomly anymore,so...
The way he was yanking his head at the shack wasn't exactly subtle.
Oooookay...she sighed.
Gatherine ceased chasing the waddling pigpegons and drew Twinbellows,loaded and ready to fire....Troubleshootin'.
Marco turned to look back at Gatherine and Garborn, reached into his belt pouch and showed them his smoke pellet.
Turning back to the man, he made a show of looking at the odd looking poultry.
"Some fine looking specimens to be sure. But what can you tell me of the pedigree of..."
He stopped and shaded his eyes, pretending to look out to sea.
"I say, is that a ship?" He spoke loudly.
While the crooks hidden in the shack are presumably looking away, Marco flicked the smoke bomb into the shacks space there.
Pellet will produce a 10ft cube of smoke.
Undercover of the smoke he will charge up to the shack.
You hear the creak and bang of (presumably) the front door swinging open, and some faint grumbling within the shack. You see one of the two shutters covering the window facing you swing open just as Marco's smoke begins to obscure it.
Suddenly realizing he can't tell a pirate from a hostage with the smoke bomb filling the interior, Marco knuckled his head and tried to think.
Suddenly he shouted "Fire! They set the shack on fire! We gotta get out! We gotta get out!" He bluffed, hoping they would come out to them.
Gatherine shrugged at Marco's antics and hurled herself into the smoke,seeking out a target.When she spied a figure catiously groping through the smokescreen,she aimed a low below the waist.She was close and steadied her aim by bracing the double barreled pistol against her buckler.
Attack
Damage
Judging by the wet smack and the resulting caterwaul of surprised pain,she'd struck true.
You hear voices inside...
"What in the blazes is going on out there?!"
"Ho *%&#! They've got guns!"
Garbon sees two run out to the pavilion... one turns the near table on its side with a manly grunt... the other readies his musket.
Garborn also sees movement (a bit of red cloak) beyond the open south door.
The musket-wielder props his barrel on the edge of the over-turned table, and aims.
The bird farmer shrieks, drops to his knees and throws his hands up... surrendering or praying... generally overcome.
But the musket-wielder is not aiming at him... he takes a shot at Garborn, but misfires.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
It'd been a rough couple weeks for Chumbo and his gang. It started late one night in their "winding down" watering hole in Hell's Harbor where he'd inadvertently helped himself to a handful of the wrong rump. How was he to know from behind it was Ilvagret, the witch of the Spidertear Gang?
He and his mates were soon under her command.. and infected with a geas curse not long after. Chumbo was slowly rotting... if they do not return with their plunder.. the amethyst pearls within the next five days, he'll pass from living to undeath. Not to say it could not be said by some that he and his amoral mates did not deserve such a fate.
Most of his gang had been captured and tortured by the natives.. they had nearly gotten away with the village's offering to their so called protector, oppressor, and hateful god.. in the natives' eyes.
This morning.. free again from the natives.. pearls enough to fulfill the geas, they've found a place to recover before making their journey back to Hell's Harbor. The fool pigpigeon farmer thought he could turn them away. Heh. "What is it with the idle aged and whack-a-doos with their fondness of birds?" Chumbo thought to himself as the farmer cow-towed under threat of plucking his prized plump goofy-beaked duck.
Now.. one more obstacle. "Pirates? .. privateers and a hermit? odd bunch is all I can say."
Rifleman Brindlebeard, and "Ham-Hands" Grutty Jaynes went out to post up on the pavilion. Chumbo chuckled to himself... he'd felt miserable for so long... the rush of coming battle made his worn and threshed mind go giddy. "It's on..."
Gatherine waddled furiously towards the human wielding a musket in single-minded determination and weaved around Marco, skidding to a halt on her bootheels in the packed dirt and leaving gouges in her wake. She glared at the pair sidled up together on the pavilion.
Oi! Say hello t' Twinbellows!!
She aimed the double barreled Wheelock pistol at the nearest--the one standing in front of the wielder of the musket.She squeezed the trigger on quick succession to fire both barrels in a spray of sparks and blue-gray smoke with a thunderous cough.
Seeing the smoke pouring out of the doorway, Marco did not want to go in there. Not simply being unable to see, but being unable to distinguish friend from foe.
Suddenly noticing two pirates tumbling out of a side door, Marco elatedly pursued them.
Dodging around Gatherine and her cloud of gunsmoke, Marco leapt up on the table (G,9) and smiled at the pirates.
"Marco; Compt D'Enrotheld. You really, REALLY should not have taken hostages..." He suggested.
He lunged at the guy at (F,10).
for a possible magic, piercing and precision damage.
Having little interest in entering the moking building, Garborn hides behind the rock he was sitting on, waiting for a better chance to do...something.
Brindlebeard was furiously ramming his shot when Twinbellows ripped into him. He falls with Marco's strike.
The brawler at his side tries to trip up Marco with a gathering sweep of his notably muscled arms... "Yeah?" he did not expect such nimble avoidance. He takes a step back toward the door thinking... "My luck.. I'll come up with a good comeback ten minutes from now..."
Chumbo bellows from within the shack.
"Aide him!"
Marco can see a hooded figure move up to the brawler just inside the door.... You hear hooded fellow speak a few arcane words, then a shimmering flash envelopes the brawler for a blink's worth of time.
"One good hit.. all I need. Goin down."
The brawler clenches his fists tighter.. kisses the right, then the left to punctuate his challenge.
Garborn see the hooded figure who'd exited the south door move up to the corner of the shack. He eyes Garborn for a moment, gestures spits out a phrase, then disappears.
Gatherine bared her teeth in a fierce grin,her blood thumping in her ears like the beat of a war drum. She greedily inhaled the smell of gunsmoke and sighed.Grit n' Glory! Rip n'Tear! Shoot n' Pare!
She watched the bald thug taunt them with a flex of impressively swelling muscles and kissing his fists.Feeling confident in her own prowess,she waddled up to him and twirled Twinbellows in one chubby fist before clubbing him across his chin with it.
Guess what's on the menu,big boy!?
The satisfying crack of the butt of her pistol made her chortle as the brute head snapped to the right from her vicious blow. Spittle,blood, and a bit of chipped tooth dribbled his barrel chest. He rocked on his heels and avoided her attempt to shove him.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
After easily leaping over the man's clumsy attempt to trip him, Marco laughed as he jumped down.
Spotting movement behind the big guy, he pointed with his sword.
"Who's your little friend? Never mind, I'll just go introduce myself."
He smiled and dove past the pirate into the smoke filled cabin to (J,10).
Stopping inside, he tried to listen for the enemy.
Ugh. I really need to practice blind-fighting more... He thought to himself.
Uh oh, that spell may just last long enough for him to...ambush me...
Realizing that he may indeed be in a lot of danger, Garborn quickly leaves his little hiding place and rushes after Marco and Gatherine.
Strength in numbers yes?