Francis moves up and tears into the Eaisge, pulling gobbets of flesh from its over-ripe body. It falls to the deck, and as it does so a burst of hot black water gushes out from the corpse, steaming then evaporating in the air. This was no 'normal' undead...
In the next few minutes the party is able to swiftly despatch the remaining zombie on the deck, plus the Uhmuzu-zombie when she completed her climb up the hull. No further undead emerge from the ship; it appears with the dismemberment of the the three larger, water-swollen creatures the zombies ceased to be animated.
|
Chest Thumper is a bit confused when he awakens. The last he knew he was facing some sort of walking dead on the top deck. Now, all the dead things were dead again and he was below decks.
Francis was not there, either. He was with Jit, clearly more worried about her than his brother and it took some reassurance from the others before Chest Thumper believed that the ape was not killed in the battle.
The Half-orc frowns and examines the re-dead bodies briefly, but has little ability to determine much about them. He knows about nature and they are clearly unnatural.
"It seems that there are no survivors aboard for us to help. Perhaps there are some on the other side of the dunes," he says.
He doesn't seem to be in too much of a hurry to find out. At least not before he learns more about the ship. He heads for the cabin at the back of the ship where Pious made his stand, unbeknownst to Chest Thumper, at the time.
He'll search for any sign of what happened or anything that might be useful to the party.
"What are the rules for salvage Jit? Maybe you could be a ship owner and captain, now," he comments to the gnome.
"Oh, so you're alive. Good to know. Me too. Thanks for asking," he says to his brother as Francis comes into view, trailing behind the gnome.
"The black dead are Eaisge, the lord spoke to me of them, corrupted influence from the Elemental Plane of Water has infused these drowned corpse with unlife. Their kills rise once more and serve them. Without their control it seems the other dead lost their will to face us."
Pious looks around himself in obvious disgust as he makes his way to the deck.
"We have holly missions, salvage is not one of them."
As Aza tends to the wounded, whisking her wand about the air with a shuddering grace, she tries not to look about the horrid scene. The stench of soaked death hung about her, and she pulls up her scarf to avoid breathing in the vile air, and to keep her own guts from spilling out onto the deck. The entire place was a nightmare, and the undead moreso. Abominations. "They are... awful," she responds to Pious's explanation. "Why would the plane of w-w-water do such a thing..." She waves her wand once more over Jit with worry in her eyes, before moving towards Pious and solemnly mending his grevious-looking wounds. And I... was not even touched, this battle. She looks at her companions, face and expression of quilt hidden behind her scarf. They are truly brave souls. I will not fail them next time. They deserve more action from me.
"While I agree that salvage is not our mission, if we have the time and the b-b-... ship, does not fall under any apparent ownership, we m-might put it to better use than simply l-leaving it here."
After her healing is done, she busies herself saying a small prayer over each of the corpses, using her staff to arrange any broken bodies in a less awkward and more respectful position. She looks closely at their faces, despite her reservations, searching for any other people she might recognize, or their bodies for any sort of calling card.
Over the course of the next 80 minutes or so, the party recover, heal their most pressing wounds, and carefully and cautiously explore the rest of the ship.
Once Jit remains consciousness she is able to assess the state of the Cobalt Eye with her professional experience. To her best judgement, the ship was doomed by a splitting of her mast as the storm struck; with no sail to run from the worst of the weather, the ship must have wallowed in the storm, shipping seawater into the hold and sinking lower and lower in the water. It must have been a terrifying end for the crew, caught between being swept overboard from the deck, or drowned beneath it. Any of the bodies lost to sea could have washed up anywhere along the coast, given the strength of the storm surge that night.
As for the Undead, it is impossible to say whether the first unfortunate deceased sailor was raised as an Eaisge during the storm, after in the waves, or later on the beach. Recalling the high-pitched call of the monsters, akin to the call of the seagulls, Aza finds herself gazing out at the beach and wondering whether there may be others, an unknown number of others, loose on the low mud marshes and sand dunes of Korir Island. Chest Thumper observes that the tracks seen along the coast the day before, the ambush site in the dunes, and the trail leading inland away from the ship all suggest that there may be predatory undead still at large.
Chest Thumper and Iradyiel together turn over the Officers’ Cabin which Pious had been fighting within, stepping gingerly over the inanimate cadavers laying scattered across the deck en route. There and in other locations they find a number of valuable items: a leather-bound case containing a masterwork hunting bow inlaid with ebony which you believe belonged to Umuzu, 4x CLW potions, 1632 gp, 22350 sp, 21pp, 6x quartz gemstones in a wooden jewellery box, and a monkey-shaped bone idol.
Iradyiel uncovers the Cobalt Eye’s waterlogged by still legible logbook and crew manifest. This would enable the identification of the crew and passengers of the ship and therefore might be helpful to return to the Town Council. The only names that stand out are that of Umuzu, and Glaudthalas, the only elven name amongst the crew; it appears that the undead creature they despatched above deck must indeed be the man they were asked to look for. Iradyiel solemnly searches the body, and retrieves a simple bone necklace and a bronze ring to return to the sailor’s daughter.
Deeper in the hold, Pious finds a large stash of building materials; lumber, pitch, nails, canvass, ropes and tools, all brought in from Sargaava or loaded back at Pridon. In total they must weigh over 2,000 lbs: they appear unspoilt by the storm and eminently salvageable, their weight and bulk notwithstanding.
As for the ship itself; it’s fundamentally sound, but beached and stripped of mast and rigging. If you were willing to expend a whole day to jury-rig a basic set of sails and await the right tide, risked a night spend on the ship, and Jit was able to make a DC15 profession sailor check, you might be able to get her afloat and able to make further sail checks to sail her back to Pridon. It’s risky though: the two ship’s lifeboats are gone, swept away or dashed in the storm.
It’s mid morning now – what do you want to do?
|
|
The coins and gems they find appeal to Chest Thumper only because they can be traded for more useful items. He eyes the bow thoughtfully, though, lamenting the fact that his orc cousins taught him to use an axe and not such a beautiful weapon.
He doesn't really understand what happened to the ship, knowing little about sailing but he can easily imagine being trapped on the vessel in that storm. A dangerous refuge, to be sure, but one that, no doubt seemed safer than trying to get on shore and find shelter there.
"After the way the storm was twisted and perverted, it seems that there is something that can corrupt many forces of nature. I fear this may just be another sign of its power," he replies to Aza's question.
He is less than pleased when simple math tells him how many potential undead there are wandering the island compared to how many they've slain. There is a chance that some of those who are missing either survived or were not brought back to a mockery of life but there is no way of knowing how many.
Once everything has been examined and gathered, he squats on the elevated deck at the back of the boat and looks out over it.
"Salvage rights aside, the hold of this ship is full of supplies that Pridon's Hearth could use to repair and rebuild after the storm. I know that we have plenty of things to do and need to track down these lizardfolk who are causing trouble, but should we try to get this boat floating again and get these supplies to the settlement?" he asks the group.
Aza shivers heavily at the thought of more undead loose out in the wild somewhere, and can feel the goosepimples start to rise on her arms, which she rubs shakily, trying to warm herself back up - of course, it was from the fear. Not the cold. "I had hoped that we would right the course of th-the storm killing that sorcerous l-l-lizard... I suppose that would be a bit too much to hope for."
"I agree with Iradyiel, th-though I know that fight was difficult. If we can track that thing down, rather than leave it to its m-m-ma... gross, business, it might prevent more needless corruption and loss of life." She gestures to the boat. "If w-we keep the more valuable things with us to dissuade any possible looters, I don't doubt we will find the ship just as we leave it."
The Party gathers once more at the side of the foredeck, looking out at the low dunes and salt marshes of Korir Island. Birds swoop and call, oblivious to the horrid fate of the crew of the storm-tossed ship below.
Korir Island itself measures some 24 miles by 12, with a number of wooded areas to the north east and a large inland salt marsh lagoon to the south (see Map 2). Chest Thumper seems confident in his ability to follow the tracks leading from the wrecked ship inland, unless they re-enter water. However there is the distinct possibility that other Eaisge were washed ashore elsewhere on the coast, and might be harder to track. Or, a trap could be set, using the carrion on the ship as bait, to draw then in.
Beside this, you recall that Old Tom and the Winklestar promised 24 hours ago to remain fishing on the north coast (one day's travel away) for a couple of days, and then return daily for a week thereafter to pick the party up. All this is weather-dependent - should the storms return, the party realise they could be isolated on Korir Island for some days.
Pious casts about from atop the deck. Before climbing down and following Iradyiel.
"We could walk this island for a month and not clear it. But the wise hunter does not chase the deer, we should bring them to us."
|
|
Chest Thumper follows Iradyiel over the side of the boat, Francis following eagerly in his wake. The ape does not at all like the foulness left behind by the undead things.
"The world is full of evil. We can spend our whole lives trying to clear it and will never succeed. All we can do is do our best to lessen it's strength. Perhaps we can find those walking dead still lurking and finish them. I don't like the idea of bringing them to us, as there may be more than we can handle, but I suppose we cannot leave them to wander and kill, either." Chest Thumper adds his 2 coppers to the conversation.
The half-orc carried his great axe in one hand as he squatted down periodically to check the tracks that headed from the ship into the dunes. He didn't want to have to waste time pulling it out if they came across more of those waterlogged corpses.
Yup - there's say 15 arrows salvageable from the wreck
"I think that f-facing them as one large horde would be... practical." Aza looks down at her own shaky hands, trying to gauge how much magic she can attempt to force out of them. "But I th-think we m-might not have the strength to face them all at once. If we can kill just a few of them I think th-that might be within our r-reach. I'm not even sure h-how we would lure them here..." Aza leaned heavily on her staff, leaving large, deep circles next to her footprints.
The party head inland, following the footsteps in the beach. Knowing now about the undead horrors they found on the ship, they can piece together more of a story, albeit a grim one. The ship’s log lists 36 names; men and women, crew and explorers. The party despatched a dozen on the Cobalt Eye; the footsteps of maybe a half dozen leave the wreck and headed inland, and the depth of at least two of these betray the heavier tread of the Eaisge. Assuming that Korir Island is uninhabited as you have been told, that leaves maybe 18 souls either lost at sea or washed up as survivors elsewhere. Whether any survivors have survived thus far is a separate matter.
The undead appear to have scattered across the island. Over the course of the next ninety minutes the party track down and swiftly despatch two marauding zombies. One was picked off at a distance; it had become stuck in a salt marsh and unable to wrestle itself free. The other they spotted from half a mile away standing motionless on a sand dune, staring out at the storm on the horizon until they approached more closely, and managing only a token listless effort to attack before being destroyed. The only tracks found of a possible survivor ended, bloodily, at a ruined mess – you surmise the undead found her first…
With the rain having picked up into a steady downfall, their impression of Korir Island as desolate bleak and miserable is only reinforced. After despatching the second zombie the party hunker down with their backs to the rain for food and drink, and discuss their next steps.
"We must head back to the ship"
Pious breaks the growing silence with a growling declaration.
"It is a gift from God himself and we are fools to ignore it. For I have given you walls that you may live and grow together We must return and make it defensable, tomorrow is another day and we will do as we are guided to do, either a long walk or a dangerous sail. But is not tomorrow another world."
|
|
After a couple more messy, though easy battles, Chest Thumper is tired. Much as he enjoys nature, Korir Island seems to be the kind of place that was depressing BEFORE it was infested with water cursed undead. Now, knowing they could get ambushed at any moment, the place is even more bleak.
"I agree with Master Pious. We can try to hunt down these creatures but I think it will take far too long to find them all and we won't even be sure if we get them all since some of the victims could have been washed away," Chest Thumper adds.
"The boat should be a relatively safe place to spend the night and we can determine what we're going to do in the morning."
Jit wakes in a panic, wildly whipping her head around to scan for more of the undead sailors. When it’s clear they’ve been vanquished, she allows herself to lie back down and have a bit of a quieter panic. She eventually manages to calm down, gulping down lungfuls of fresh sea air.
At the initial talks of salvage, she is dumbstruck. “You want to know if that -” she emphasizes, pointing an accusing finger at the ship’s wreckage, “- if that is something we could salvage like some simple driftwood washed up merrily on a sunny white beach? Do you want to be cursed for seven lifetimes?” she demands. “Do want bad luck spilling out your ears till you reach Pharasma?”
Jit continues to mutter about bad luck, even as the supplies are uncovered and the others weigh the benefits of trying to jury-rig some use out of the ship hull. “I could give it a shot,” she mutters at some point. “I could also break a mirror or pluck a feather from a wizard’s crow,” she mutters, more quietly. Still, she assesses the damage and sticks with the others for immediate protection as they track down some more ill-fated sailors and ship passengers.
As most everyone probably expected, Jit is less than thrilled at the prospect of sleeping inside the derelict ship. “You want me to SLEEP in it?” she cries out instinctively as Pious makes the suggestion first. She casts a horrified look at the Cobalt Eye, and a worried one at the dark and rainy sky. Grumbling and nervous, she reluctantly goes with the others to hole up in the captain’s cabin for the night. She volunteers for first watch, knowing she won’t be able to get to sleep too quickly making camp in a watery grave, going over some of the trinkets found among the ship.
---
Pious rigs up the tarp as best he can to keep the worst of the rain off and prepares to sleep in the rigging with Iradyiel. He looks around at the party.
"Some of you are in poor shape, God heals me and is my protection. But some of you are yet to see the one true way. Maybe we should look to our wounds..."
|
|
As they make their way back to the boat, Chest Thumper summons up the few reserves of nature's power available on this island and channels their healing energy into himself and Iradyiel, the two most injured members of the party.
He gapes in astonishment at Jit's outburst about the boat. Sure it's in bad shape. Sure it's been infested by elementally cursed undead. Sure those elementally cursed undead were created from the corpses of people who died horrible deaths on the boat. But that didn't mean it couldn't be a fine boat again...he thought. But then, he was no sailor.
Francis was, ironically, much more emotionally intelligent and just patted Jit reassuringly on the back.
"We should board up what we can,"[b] the half-orc says when they get back to the boat.
He'll take some time and use some of the construction materials to board up the largest holes in the hull, getting down to the portholes, if he has time.
[b]"If we're going to sleep in the rigging, we should all sleep in the rigging. I don't want to face these creatures with us divided."
Both he and Francis are comfortable sleeping elevated, having slept in trees from time to time before they joined civilization.
Tired and somewhat subdued, the party head back to the Cobalt Eye to secure a place to rest for the evening. On arriving they disturb a large flock of seagulls who have found the carcasses of the dead sailors and been messily feasting on the remains. As they climb up to the deck, the birds noisily signal their displeasure at being interrupted before retreating to circle watchfully overhead. Chest Thumper and Pious exchange glances; this is a sight and sound any sentient observer will likely note from some distance.
Rigging up some secure and semi-comfortable hammocks in the rigging and securing as much as possible the portholes below takes a good 90 minutes, by which time darkness is closing in. Chest Thumper exhausts his healing powers whilst the party eat cold food in the shelter of the cabin below, before retiring to rest with a shared watch roster
For those in the rigging it is an interrupted night of extremely poor quality sleep. At least after dusk the seagulls leave off their disgruntled cries above, flying away to roost in the dunes; however the noise of the surf, the wind on the hammocks and the constant rain all make for a terrible night’s rest. Anyone in the cabin gets a rather more warm, dry and restful sleep.
It is around 2am in the night, on Iradyiel’s watch, when his sharp elven eyes become aware of a humanoid figure standing in the dunes 500 yards or so away, watching the ship. It stands motionless for the rest of Iradyiel’s hour’s watch, silhouetted in profile against the starry sky.
Later, during Pious’s watch, a separate incident happens. Pious’ attention is caught by a change in the noise of the surf, and he notices further up the beach a rolling patch of crashing surf behaving oddly. The waves crash against the shore repeatedly, rolling, turning, beating the beach, slowly moving up the beach towards the wreck. As it gets closer he alerts the others in the rigging, most of whom (bar Francis) were partly awake anyway. The party’s best guess is that they are looking at one or more water elementals, but perhaps somewhat larger than those they fought in Pridon. The watery mass continues drifting up the beach before it reaches the wreck, at which point it begins to crash heavily on the hull, startling anyone sleeping below from slumber. After 5 tense minutes or so the creature or creatures move off before drifting slowly further on down the beach then disappearing.
As dawn’s light reaches the wreck the next morning the party emerge to break their fast, as, annoyingly, do the seagulls. A few of the birds resort to defecating on the wreck from above in dirty protest at their interrupted feast.
***
[ooc]Good news – as well as posting any your actions or responses to the night’s events, or any RP between the characters, you may level up! Woo-hoo !
|
|
Sleeping in the wind and rain is neither very restful nor very comfortable. It does, however, provide a certain sense of safety. Until, that is, the ocean itself seems to turn on them.
The odd tide rouses Chest Thumper, his mind, even in sleep, on edge for anything unusual.
After the weird water things during the storm and knowing that twisted water had something to do with the undead they recently faced, he is more than suspicious of the strange waves. He fingers his axe as he watches the water pounding against the boat, ready to shake his brother awake if it proves any more dangerous. He also cannot help but fear that it will actually tear the wreck apart under them.
It is with more than a little relief that he watches it go away.
Getting back to sleep is not easy but he manages, at least until the sun rises and the seagulls go back about their business...both eating and doing their business in another way.
He has a fresh respect for Korir Island after his rest. Even this is nature, bleak though it is. It is not for a man to decide what is right and what is beautiful. This place is exactly what it must be, shaped by wind, tide, rain and life. There is food, there is water, there is sun and wind. What more could anyone want?
After seeing how nature can be twisted since they've arrived in Pridon's Hearth, he has even more respect and understanding of it. He feels even more connected than ever.
Even his sense of smell seems keener and, as his companions bustle around him, he is certain that he could identify each of them only by their scent.
Francis, too seems...more. He is unmistakably growing and appears stronger than ever. But he's also even more sure of himself and moves with a definite agility that he did not have before. His skin has grown more leathery, as well and looks as though it, alone could turn aside some blows. Once Chest Thumper gets his chain shirt on him, the ape looks nigh on invulnerable.
"I think I can make that terbutje you found better, Iradyiel. Harden the wood, sharpen the teeth..." he offers, contemplating the weapon.
"I understand, I think, if you don't want to keep the boat, Jit. I can see where you would think it was cursed, but do you think we could get it back to the settlement? It seems a shame to leave it out here for who knows what or who to loot and destroy. And I'm not looking forward to crossing this island again with more of those waterlogged corpses after us."
Aza watched the water elementals with a degree of fascination that night - of course, she clutched at her staff fearfully, as if it were a security blanket or a flying broom that could whisk her away from the boat if they climbed aboard. "N-not this year... not yet," she muttered under her breath more than once until the elementals went on their way. The rest of the night was certainly filled with tossing and turning, and she just couldn't quite get comfortable in that cot.
In the morning, Aza says a short prayer before eating - thanks for not collapsing the ship out from under the group in their sleep. She tucks into her unappetizing rations, and while she did not mind the journey's trials, after last night a part of her did miss the warmth and welcoming atmosphere of the stone hall.
But even as that part of her is pushed to the back of Aza's mind, she can feel something in the air. The way the wind dances around her hair and rustles her cloak, the way the gulls rise and fall in annoyance at the intruders to their meal, Aza feels as though she can read it better, feel it more deeply, and takes a moment to close her eyes and be lost among the winds.
"This wh-whole island has felt like a curse," Aza agrees with the others. "If we are not resolved to stay, the boat might be the quickest way off, even if it isn't the luckiest choice... I can't help but think that if we stay something worse might crawl it's way toward us."
In the cabin, Jit falls into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning on her hammock. She wakes with a start when she feels the ship shudder as something smashes into it. She’s up in a flash, pointer finger out ready to zap whatever is attacking her. She keeps her attention on the door, glancing from it to Aza and back as the assault continues. When it eventually subsides, Jit maintains her vigilance, staying awake as much as she can during the night in wide-eyed terror.
In the morning, she wakes up on the floor, slumped down from her guard position having fallen asleep from exhaustion at some point. Her back hurts and she wipes the dried saliva from her mouth with the back of her hand, then pulls it away just as quickly when some remnant of electricity gives her a mild shock. Taking stock and finding the cabin still in tact, she ventures outside to join the others in the morning light.
She keeps her breakfast light, with a cup of wine to wash it down with. At Chest Thumper’s suggestion and Aza’s support of rebuilding the ship, she sighs. “It makes… sense to try to get it out of here, and to get all those supplies to town. I mean…” she looks nervously back at the ship as if it could overhear her. “I already slept in it, and I’m not in Davy Jones’ locker yet. If we take the day, we can rebuild it - good enough to sail back, but not much more. I’m a sailor, not a shipwright, ken?” she suggests, capitulating to reason. Her expression suddenly grows dire, her brow creasing darkly. “But that’s it! Once we get it back to town, I don’t want anything to do with that cursed vessel!”
---
Stretching fatigued muscles into action, the Papaya Knights set about trying to return the beached ship to service. Under Jit’s sometimes contradictory (to a landlubber) instructions, a scheme to hoist a recovered beam into service as a makeshift mast takes shape, whilst below on the shoreline, beams are readied to brace the ship against the tide and hopefully lift it from the beach. Ropes are untangled, the deck cleared, sailcloth laid out, and order begins to return to the deck of the Cobalt Eye.
Throughout this time a close watch is maintained on the sand dunes inland – the figure spotted by Iradyiel during the night reappears occasionally, joined by at least one or maybe two others. The party’s consensus view is that they are being watched by the undead, observing their preparations with malice and with hungry eyes.
The most important task is to prepare for the day’s first high tide at just after noon. Whilst Aza keeps watch from the deck above, and Jit shouts instructions over the side, the others labour to buttress the hull against being driven further up out of the shallow surf, and once the hull has some buoyancy, to lever her further out into deeper waters. Aided by fortunate winds and three hours of backbreaking hard work, this proves successful – by mid-afternoon the Cobalt Eye is still grounded, but further out from the shore and with a real prospect of being refloated on the next tide.
After an hour’s rest followed by a very welcome hot meal, courtesy of provisions retrieved from the hold cooked in the ship’s galley, work commences on lifting a large tackleblock up the shattered remains of the mast, and lifting into place the beam to be used as a makeshift mast. This is achieved with less trouble than Jit anticipated, leaving the rest of the afternoon to prepare sails and ropes for leaving the beach on the next tide at just past midnight.
During this time the numbers of the undead on the dunes are seen to have multiplied. There must be close to ten or so figures lurking in the grasses and gullies, watching the party. It is while they are gathered at the rails discussing this surveillance that the wind picks up, stressing the bindings holding the jury-rigged beam in place, and bringing beam, ropes and tackleblock crashing down to the deck. Everyone dives for cover but when they pick themselves up they find that Jit suffered a direct blow, cracking a rib and temporarily stunning her ().
Examining the debris shows the culprit – a poorly executed rope knot, combined with a loose rivet in the block. It seems unlucky , but exactly the sort of accident which provides volatile fuel to the doubts of the superstitious.
Pressed back to work to recover lost time, the party redouble their efforts to rig the boat for a sea journey. Fortunately there are no further problems: the watchers remain hidden in the dunes, the repairs appear robust, and whilst the rain picks up again, the wind remains in a helpful direction.
By the evening, the boat appears ready. Over a hot stew, the party have a decision to make – do they place their faith and their lives in the hands of the unlucky Cobalt Eye and in the reliability of their repairs under Jit’s instruction, or do they attempt to break out overland through the watching undead, back to Old Tom and rescue via the Winklestar ?
****
|
|
If he was being honest, Chest Thumper only understood what they were doing a little bit more than Francis did. He understood about the tide and that it could push the boat around but didn't have enough of a concept of how the vessel worked to know how to get around the problem.
They both worked diligently, though, even Francis seeming to have developed a work ethic since he's been introduced to the other members of the group.
When the creaking and booming that indicates disaster is about to befall sounds, Chest Thumper dives out of the way, fully aware of just how much wood is suspended over their heads and the damage it can do if it falls on someone. Francis just gapes, in awe and confusion as the work that the furless ones did comes apart and comes crashing down.
The ape is the first to jump to her aid, though, letting out a howl of fear as he lopes to her side. He requires help to get the mast off her and only Chest Thumpers insistent commands and a few well timed shoves keep Francis from picking up his little friend like a doll and potentially doing more damage.
"Don't worry Little Captain, we can fix that right up," Chest Thumper says, though it is less than clear if he means the damage to their makeshift repairs or the damage to her.
There's only one of them that he can do anything about without her assistance though.
He calls up the healing power of nature and channels it into her battered form.
Chest Thumper keeps his axe close at hand and pauses long enough to garb Francis in his armor when the figures in the distance begin watching them. Yet, he is certain that the best way to deal with them is to get away from them so, as long as they continue to do no more than watch, he does nothing more than watch in turn.
As the group gathers to eat dinner, Chest Thumper sits, fighting the day's exhaustion to gather some coherent thoughts.
"I think we've done a good job. I'm confident that we can get this back to Pridon's Hearth and from there we can resume our investigation of the lizardfolks' camps," he says, looking around at his companions.
Guiding this pack of landlubbers isn’t easy going, but Jit at least finds that they’re putting their backs into it and getting the ship repaired nicely. The whole while she tries desperately just to focus on the repairs and making sure the Cobalt Eye doesn’t get more thoroughly run aground, instead of the wretched feeling in her gut that something here will go horribly wrong. That the morning work goes surprisingly well goes a long way toward Jit almost relaxing during lunch. She eats very little (although it’s better than none at all) and keeps her attention split between the ship and the gathering hordes on the horizon.
Then it happens. Jit can only watch, paralyzed with fear as the beam crashes into her, knocking her to the ground with a crash and a loud ‘crack.’ She groans pitifully as she comes back to her senses, seeing the beam set aside while Chest Thumper and Francis bicker. She attempts to sit up, but lies back down with a groan of pain, her vision spotty. As CT’s magic flows through her, the blood rushing in her ears grows quieter and her breathing less labored. “Thanks,” she manages to gasp out after he’s done, tenderly feeling the small leftover bruise on her chest.
When the unlucky culprit is revealed, Jit starts to tremble. She descends into a quivering mess, muttering and cursing under her breath. She immediately climbs down the side of the ship, planting herself in the sand. She directs the others as she had through the morning, but refuses to even touch the ship until the repairs are complete.
Jit tucks into the nightly stew more heartily than lunch. Perhaps her light lunch is catching up with her, or her evolution from nervousness to full blown bad luck paranoia has had a reverse effect on her appetite. Either way, she’s mostly silent with the occasional mutter, twitching and jumping at every shadow. She looks up at Chest Thumper as he delivers his proud and confident declaration of their successes today and their success in the future. The poor fool. She speaks up, above her usual muttering volume to add, “Let’s just get off this accursed island. We’ll take the ship and deliver those goods back to Pridon’s Hearth, but after that I want nothing to do with that blasted thing.”
---
Pious stands and watches the undead for some time, almost as if he if trying to drive them away through sheer bravado, that or trying to resist the urge to charge off after them.
He pulls his weight with the ship repairs. Prefering to work from the deck rather than the rigging, hauling on hoists and helping fix the hull.
Later that day, with a mouthful of stew.
"We should sail to Tom. This vessel is blessed but I would have a sturdy boat beside us if that storm worsens. The fool is he who stands alone at the feast, bemoaning his solitude."
Pious is not certain about the behaviour of the zombies, assuming that is what the figures in the dunes were. He'd expect from what he has heard that zombies might stand or hide inert when not aware of nearby life to attack, but not lurk and ambush. Certainly a powerful profane priest or arcane necromancer might be able to direct them; it may be that the Esiage, or whatever animates them, might be providing just such a controlling influence.
Intent on taking the Cobalt Eye and leaving Korir Island, the Papaya Knights snatch a few hours of much-needed rest. Around an hour before midnight Iradyiel, Pious and Francis climb down to work the beams pinning the ship against the inrushing tide, holding her back from being beached once more. On the deck CT (with his better night-time vision) watches the dunes for any move from the undead, and Jit nervously watches the wind. Aza, not strong enough to help in the surf, watches helplessly on.
Around 2 hours later the tide turns and slowly, in slips and shudders, and then suddenly and without warning, the Cobalt Eye slips from the grip of the sands beneath and is afloat once more. All now on deck the rest of the party follow Jit’s shouted commands, and as they trim the small area of sail they managed to erect during the day the ship sluggishly creeps into life, moving through the waves. The dunes with their hidden watchers slip rapidly behind them as they are carried along the coast, northeast towards a rendezvous with Old Tom and the Winklestar
Jit remains nervous throughout the next few hours. Whilst the ship appears seaworthy and sound, she is still carrying water within the hold which makes her sluggish to control, and should the wind pick up, she won’t have the speed to outrun trouble. In addition, Jit is uncomfortably aware that her crew are scarcely experienced hands should something go wrong. And that’s aside from the bad juju of sailing this ship after all it’s been through, out to sea once more…
It’s about four in the morning when the Cobalt Eye rounds the coast and is able to turn due east, into the rising dawn and away from the open sea. It’s about six in the morning before Iradyiel’s keen eyesight spots a shape on the river ahead, through the light rain drizzling down in sheets; the Winklestar! Jit brings the two boats alongside, and the party hail Old Tom and his crew with relief – it has been only 3 days since they parted, but it seems longer. Together both vessels turn to the north-east, back towards Pridon, with the Winklestar in the lead.
Jit and Aza feel the wind pick up long before anyone else notices; they exchange glances as they sense the building kinetic power of the wind and impending lightning from miles away. The others sense their change in mood, and nervously watch as the skies darken, swallowing the morning sun in storm clouds. When the first flash and BOOM of thunder hits, everyone jumps. Drenched in rain and threatened with lightning strikes in the open river, the situation rapidly turns for the worse.
There is no way the Cobalt Eye can outrun this storm, and it stands a good chance of wallowing again and this time sinking, should she get caught in open water. Jit makes a call; rather than abandoning ship and the party attempting a risky transfer mid-storm into the much smaller Winklestar, she steers the Cobalt Eye northward, running against the wind, aiming to beach her on the mudflats west of Pridon. Unable to hear the shouted warnings from Old Tom over the wind, she was unaware of the risk of hidden rocks on the unfamiliar shore.
And so it is that by 9th bell in the morning, a bedraggled, exhausted and mud-coated party pull themselves up on the north coast of the Korir River (), in the midst of a screaming storm. Out in the river channel Old Tom and the Winklestar turn back to Pridon, having watched them onto the coast. Behind them, its hull split, impaled on a submerged rocky islet and turned on its side, slumps the twice-wrecked hulk of the Cobalt Eye. As they watch, the repaired mast tumbles into the sea, and her timbers shriek as she is pounded further onto the rocks by the storm behind her. Once this day is done, she’ll likely be good for firewood and little more.
***
|
|
Chest Thumper begins to understand Jit's trepidation as the Cobalt Eye wallows its way out into the current of the river. Even he can feel how sluggish and unresponsive the boat is.
It has been a long 3 days and he was looking forward to a relatively relaxing trip but the hours that follow are exhausting, both physically and emotionally as he tries his best to do what Jit tells him (though he doesn't always understand what she means and almost never understands why he's doing something.)
His relief is palpable when they rendezvous with the Winklestar and, despite being one of the ones most intent on getting the Cobalt Eye back to Pridon's Hearth, he heartily suggests they abandon the ship.
He does not grumble when he is voted down, though and works even harder. He is terrified as the storm hits and becomes even less help as he is clumsy in all his attempts to help.
Francis, for his part, is completely calm the whole time. He trails behind Jit, sometimes barking out a hoot or grunt after she has given a particularly vehement command and gesturing for added emphasis. It is obvious that he has every confidence in her ability to get them through.
As they are tossed up on shore and the vessel that (barely) managed to get them back to land once more finds itself being torn apart at the border between land and sea, Chest Thumper lays a hand on Jit's shoulder.
"Thank you," he says, simply and humbly.
He looks around to get his bearings then points the way to Pridon's Hearth.
"We should go back and tell them what we found and where this wreck is. Then we can set out to investigate the potential campsites of the lizardfolk."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
I wish I could do more. It really was the first time Aza felt truly useless among this party, as they rushed around her to keep the ship steady in the surf, but once they were on board the ship and underway, she threw herself whole heartedly into the work - Even her inexperienced and shaky hands could be useful here.
And then, the storm. It was like a burst of energy from the universe, and Aza could feel each and every inch of it crackling through the air, causing her hair to stand on end, but not slowing her movements as she attempted to help keep the ship together. She follow's Jit's lead when the team decides to force their way to the shore, trusting the gnome's experience over whatever desire she had to get off of this wreck as quickly as possible. Aza practically feels at home through the violent winds and the storms, connected to the rushing air, but she also knows that it will absolutely crush them if they dallied on getting to shore.
And it nearly did do them in - Aza, even with her affinity for the winds of the storm, was thrown overboard violently as the ship collided with the shore, and while her fall was softened by Aza's thick clothes, water, and sand, she knew that she would be able to feel an ache the next day as she pulled herself to a shaky standing position in the muddy sand and rain. She did a quick check to make sure her spellbook was still present, and retrieved her hat and staff from nearby, before moving to the other members of her party to make sure that each one was conscious and healthy.
As they gather to discuss their next move, Aza breaths heavily, exhausted from the rough morning of sailing - but, she refused to say anything, and attempted to calm herself down. The others worked much harder than her, and if they could keep going, so could she. Aza gives Jit a small bow and a nervous smile alongside Chest Thumper. "Th-thank you, captain. I would call th-that a very fortunate journey."
"I agree. We could use a chance to regroup where th-there is less immediate threat of undead creatures. As much as I'd like to head straight to the lizardfolk, there isn't much we can do if w-we are not in good condition."
Noone hears the low rumble under the storm, but Pious is laughing. Laughing like a mad man touched by the divine. Having spent his life in service to a silent God, finally guidance was forthcoming. The ship, more lightening... Pious was now at home in storms; not a comfortable, predictable home like Aza or Jit but a home none the less. Impotent peels of laughter ring out against the lashing rain, though none can hear.
As the ship crunches fatally against the shore Pious leaps to the sand
"We are delivered. As is His plan"
You expect the town's folk would recover some of the Cobalt Eye's cargo later. It may or may not survive the ship's wreck, but it would be a brave (or suicidal) man that would attempt to recover it before the storm has subsided. By that time it will at least be scattered if not lost.
Party: Where next? The map is up - any tracks left by the lizardfolk before the storm hit Pridon will be long since gone. You'll need to find your quarry some other way. Remember, you got given some leads at the town council. So, what hex exactly are you heading for?
|
|
Chest Thumper gives a rather eloquent shrug of his shoulders as he looks up at the rain then in the general direction of town before turning his gaze in the direction where they were told the plantation would be.
"I think that's a good plan. If I remember correctly, it is on a relatively straight line from here with two other locations we need to investigate. We can stop there on the way to the others then figure out which of the other places we want to check out when we've seen those two."