"At least most of it isn't your blood."
"Plenty of it is. Magical healing doesn't pull the blood back inside after all." Thren says quietly.
You return to your ship without much fuss. One nice thing about Port Peril is nobody really blinks at a group of bloodied battered pirates stumbling through the streets late at night, they just are sad they didn't get to join in the brawl. In fact, you're not even the only people levitating wobbling about on the streets.
Sandara Quinn orders all of you straight to the infirmary, as is her right in her position. Doc Imogene sits inside sleeping over a book, and wakes with a start with your arrival, but tutting and tisking gets straight to work in assisting Quinn with further medical assistance. Technically she is aboard as your ship's carpenter, and has no magic, but her studies of numerous subjects includes medicine, and she sets about to helping Quinn analyze poisons and bandaging wounds to ward off infection until Quinn herself can rest and get more healing magic back. Kahuranga is ordered to stay in the sickbay, and Doc Imogene fashions a resting spot for Taniwha in a wooden box as he sleeps off the poison. "Terinav root!" she comments. "Nasty stuff. Who ever you went up again is resourceful about getting some pretty fancy supplies..."
Threnody's ordered up the stairs to her quarters. Appropriate messages are left for individuals to follow up on your remaining tasks while you recover, and whenever you wake up, Beryl has prepared you a hearty, if spicy, breakfast to restore your spirits, including plenty of coffee.
Rosie, as the ship's runner/steward, returns from checking to see if Fairwind is in town. "Knocked on her townhouse door, saying to the bloke who answered we had an invitation for her. They said she was in Quent but could leave the invitation there. I told them we'd take care of delivery another way."
The good news is by the time you reach Quent, you will have had enough time to recover from all injuries and effects of poison.
Kahuranga stays in sick bay, discomforted by the close walls. His is noticeably dour and deep in his head, slow to respond to inquiries or conversation.
Clearly this brush with death has shaken him.
As soon as you feel reasonably well you set sail, being reminded by the harbor master before you leave that you only have a little more time to sign up for the Free Captain's Regatta. Taking note, you nonetheless do not tarry to get to Quent to tell Fairwind of your findings.
While the late summer rains keep you wet and busy while sailing, you hit no major snafus or delays and arrive safely in Quent little worse for wear. Yamtisy suggests shore leave for the crew--some may wish simpler comforts that Quent offers in abundance, while others have their eyes on Calistria's temple. Rosie delivers a message to Lady Fairwind's manor, a large stone building up on a hill overlooking Quent's harbor to let you know you are here, and she returns with a reply: as soon as you receive this message, check in to Lilibeth's Tavern and Hostel and ask for the Anchor Suite; and tell Lilibeth you will be having dinner in your suite and then wait there for further word. The cost of room and board will be taken care of.
"Thanks Rosie. Make sure you get some time in with your fiddle while we're ashore," Thren tells her crewman and friend with a smile. She lets Sandara set the watches and leave rotations before gathering with the Besmaran and the sea witch.
"We've got our reply. Let's clean ourselves up and get going. I don't want to keep Fairwind waiting. I'll get the information we've gathered. Let's look presentable but be ready for trouble."
The tiefling gathers up all the information they've found over the weeks. Then she uses her cantrips to clean herself up and get ready. When her companions are ready, she heads into town looking for the tavern.
Kahuranga almost completely ignores the crew, seemingly obsessed with whatever he is contemplating. When Thren says to get moving, he seems almost perturbed, certainly distracted, but he makes himself presentable.
The winds that always stir his hair and clothing are especially vigorous.
You easily get directions to Lilibeth's, which is one of the largest public houses and hostelries in the city. You enter a large foyer, where there is a separate desk from the bar (a large room off to your left) where those seeking lodging make reservations. Putting in your request for the Anchor Room, you notice the slightest of pauses, but to the casual passerby she is merely looking over the bookings as usual. "Of course, right away. If you would just sign in here..."
She hands over the lodging registration book to you. Presuming you sign it, she rings a bell, and another woman greets you--this one older and more senior looking. She gives a pleasant smile, and while you assess a great deal of intelligence behind the woman's smile, you detect no guile. "I am Lilibeth, and I'm pleased our new Free Captains have chosen our establishment to stay in. Please allow me to escort you to your room."
As she leads you up the stairs. "We offer the finest of accommodations and your suite is one of the finest in the hostel, with bath included." As you get further along, she adds, "Your meals are included, and can be served in your room or downstairs. Of course some do like to attend entertainments elsewhere, I understand. May I inquire, so the chef knows, what your plans are for dinner?" She gives you an expectant look.
"Dinner in our suite," Thren says smoothly when asked.
Once it's down to just the officers, she looks at Kahuranga. "You all right? You don't seem like yourself."
"No, Thren, I am not myself. My self was a fool. Flying around, getting bombed in basements, nearly getting Taniwha killed. I haven't taken this life seriously, Captain. I have some re-appraising to do. And this alchemist...the defeat burns."
"Then you were a fool following a fool," the tiefling says bluntly. "I tried to come up with a plan to get us in there and get out. A clever plan. But that alchemist was still more than ready for us. She could've killed us all if she'd wanted to. She nearly killed Taniwha, burned Sandara badly, and we still had to hack our way through way too many guards. Taniwha's death would've been my fault and mine alone." She shakes her head.
"We've gotten by on bravado and luck, not by planning and raw power. We didn't have a good plan or raw power. And bravado only gets you so far. If we'd had Corwin and Lark along, might've been different. I'm sure Chakam could've killed her himself. But we didn't. If we want to keep ourselves in the game, we can't do that again. All we have to show for that trip are a few pieces of paper and a pile of burns."
"You're right. Luck and swagger aren't enough. We will need more power. Once we get complete this exchange, I shall endeavor to find more."
"We all will. We've left some leads lie to the places for treasures. Haven't truly finished exploring our little island yet either. There's opportunities there."
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"Power isn't always the answer either. Sometimes talk and money can get you where you need to go. Sometimes not. There is no predicting the way through the seas--even the best navigator can draw you into a storm that seems to arrive out of clear skies. Heck, sometimes the only thing that keeps you going is damned stubbornness. I think that's half of why the Shackles has survived as it has." Sandara muses, lighting her pipe as you settle into your suite.
The suite is large, with four bedrooms adjoining a common living area that features a small dining (or meeting) table and stuffed chairs around a brazier. Fresh fruit sits on the table alongside a pitcher of water containing sliced citrus fruit, and another pitcher that contains what smells like spiced wine. A bookshelf contains a collection of histories of the Shackles, of Quent and Motaku Island, and a few works of fiction. Each bedroom contains a full size bed, a chest of drawers, and a writing desk. Beds are made with soft cotton sheets, breathable and cool in the warm weather. The setting is not opulent, but extremely comfortable.
However you choose to spend your afternoon, you are sure you are in the suite for dinner and receive a knock on your door. "Room service," a voice calls--but as you open it, you see not a serving maid with the service cart, but Lady Fairwind herself. She is not dressed as formally as she was when you last met her, but is nonetheless striking as ever with her vibrant red hair braided intricately down her back, over a mid-length black coat lined with red satin and thigh-high black leather boots. Like last time she carries her rapier and a variety of pouches on a belt. She grins at you. "Shall we?"
She pushes the cart, laden with all kinds of covered dishes, toward the table, and begins unloading it as any server might. Sandara leaps to assist. The meal consists of roast chicken seasoned with lemon, rum-glazed yams, a colorful salad of local herbs and produce, among other tasty bites.
"There are less of you than last time," Tessa Fairwind observes as she works. "I hope you have met no major losses?"
"Lost a fight but not lives. Came close though." Thren says tersely. She helps serve as well, making sure everyone gets some before sett5ling in with the salad, yams, and chicken.
"Our little island sprouted a new batch of cyclopean mummies, so Lark and the rest are trying to clean that out. The rest of us have been following leads all over the Shackles." Thren explains. She takes a drink of water for herself, preparing for explanations.
"And don't forget losing control of our wills diving on the wreck. All in the journey has been fraught with all manner of peril."
Kahuranga finds a pedestal that is holding a vase, and with that and a pillow borrowed from his bed manages a comfortable perch for Taniwha to join the dinner without sitting in a chair below the level of the table.
Knowing that not everyone enjoys dining with a miniature dragon ripping food from the bone, Kahuranga shreds some chicken before placing it before his partner like offerings before a diminished god.
"Oh dear," Tessa says in response to Kahuranga, face going between surprise and concern. "Perhaps you'd best start from the beginning." She leans back, drink of water in hand. "What is it you have found?"
"Here." Thren presents to Tessa all the information the crew has found. Then she launches into the events since they'd last met.
"We investigated things by going to the Calistrians and to Norgorber's Norgorberites...." the bard begins.
"...and that fish with tentacles played with our minds a lot. Our crewman Chakam nearly killed us...." Thren contnues.
"...and that was the mess at Port Peril. If she'd stood and fought that spy would've blown us all to bits. She was ready for us or anyone else." The bard concludes glumly.
It takes a few moments to sort through the notes Thren's accumulated. Once she has, she begins the tale in earnest.
"We went to the House of Stolen Kisses first. We did visit Dindreann first and did her a service.Dindreann set us after Jaymiss Keft in Drenchport."
"Norgorber's faithful wanted a secret. We had to find a doctor in Quent who could help us find the item they wanted, Fitch. This sent us after 'Milksop' Morton. We let him live but got a ring we needed to find what the Hidden One's priests wanted. This ring." Thren shows the ring of the iron skull. "I won't say how we got it, but Morton's out there alive still. This sent us off to find a shipwreck.
"I won't get into details on that one, it involved swimming, pretty lights, and an aboleth."
The bard pauses. Let's cut this down the essentials. Haddon Pike is dead. He was in Drenchport. Roweena Kellett fled the Shackles from what we found, though someone had tried to kill her. Corwin died when we went looking for him, but we got his assassin. From the assassin, we went to Port Peril after the ringleader: Zarskia."
A last note is handed over to Tessa. "Zarskia got away with barely a scratch. Sandara got burned badly, Taniwha nearly died, it wasn't a good night."
"The ring's broken up, but they got away in several cases. I wish all of us had been around to seize Zarskia, but we had serious troubles back in our little port." She sighs. "That's all we could get."
"I have every intention of hunting down Zarskia, though such an undertaking is not my specialty. But whatever the ring was up to, it seems like they had completed it and were tying up loose ends even before we caught up to them."
The tiefling nods at Kahuranga's words. "I don't mind losing a fight, but she all but rubbed our faces in the fact we couldn't really touch her. Even if that wasn't her intent. But that's business for later."
Tessa listens intently, both with interest at the more adventuresome parts, but clearly also paying attention to the details provided. At the last few comments, she frowns.
"It sounds like I owe you an apology for lack of clarity: I needed proof that Cheliax was operating a spy ring in the area. In other words, names and information, not necessarily capture. Yes, I would have been delighted if you had managed to catch any of these individuals... but the penalty for treason in the Shackles is heavy... and the penalty for failure in Cheliax is worse... so all would have gone down fighting like hellions if they could elude capture. I assumed you understood how dangerous Chelish spies could be, so if I gave you the impression I wanted you to capture or kill anyone specifically, I am truly sorry. Please rest assured you will be compensated for your troubles. You have a right to be angry with me if indeed you took away that understanding from me--but I do hope you can lay that aside to continue to work together, especially as it becomes plain Cheliax indeed threatens our nation--and our freedom."
She pauses and points at the muddy sheet of paper Thren presents here. "This, indeed, was exactly the kind of thing I was hoping for. While I'd love something that referenced Cheliax or at least a particular house... ah but of course she likely attacked you so viciously to prevent you from getting such valuable information. Still, the fact this message is in Infernal is near enough proof that Cheliax is operating here, and you've traced a solid line of supply and information through several of our major ports." She pauses. "Endymion must be spitting. He's so obsessed with catching the Chells it was actually easier or them to operate in plain sight and drive off all suspicion as paranoia." She shakes her head. "Anyway, more importantly, we now have a name of a superior, 'Nisroch,' to investigate. I do not coddle people for disappointing me, so please trust me when I say this piece of paper is far more valuable than any body you could have presented me. Since she has escaped, I expect you have forced her to burn all bridges since you can now recognize and name her. There is no point in pursuing her directly... let her suffer alone with no living allies in a hostile archipelago. Besmara will likely deal with her at her pleasure. I might put a donation in at the Calistrian Temple as well." She smiles at the thought.
"Anyway, I think that's enough spy hunting for now--I need time to follow up on what you've found. I strongly suggest, if you haven't, signing up for the Regatta. Winner receives a seat on the Hurricane King's inner Council, and I would feel much better knowing said new Council member was someone who hasn't been bought by the Chells--and no doubt, they will have their favorites in the race. I hope you have not lost your taste for adventure--the fate of the Shackles is still in balance, and I still believe you and your crew are critically needed to ensure our freedom.
"In the meantime, please note that you have my thanks and my favor--until you get on the council yourself, note that if you need a vote for something in your favor, you will have mine, and if there is anything you need, ask, and I will do what I can to make it so."
She smiles. "But of course we must also have something more material behind my gratitude." She reaches into a small pack at her back, likely a handy haversack. "These are in the form of mere trinkets as I felt better carrying these than cash under the circumstances, but should you choose to trade them out for liquid assets I will not be offended--you should get full value for them in Bluestone's Market Stall in Harbor Square."
She places a few items in the center of the table--a cracked iridescent spindle ioun stone (bonus to breathing under water), a cracked dusty rose ioun stone (+1 competence bonus to initiative), a cracked vermilion ioun stone (+1 competence to Acrobatics and Swim checks), as well as an item you recognize as a wayfinder, normally found among the ranks of the Pathfinder Society, this no doubt once owned by someone who explored their way into the wrong pirate's hands. She also places down a stubborn nail. ().
She also places one item in front of each of you. To Kahuranga, she hands a bottle labeled "Misfortune"; "I know this is but a humble item, but I pray this come handy during your seacasting duties." She also hands to Taniwha a small gold pendant that contrasts beautifully with his sea-colored scales, featuring draconic runes for "freedom" and "joy." (A non magical item worth 50 gp).
To Sandara, she lays a cloak that seems to subtly shift in color: a +1 protean cloak. "A crew's most valued treasure is its healer; I hope this offers some protection--or if not, it at least reminds you of the Black Lady's shifting whims."
And to Threnody she pulls out something in a gilded frame, with a slightly broader smile. "With apologies to the others for not offering something as personal, I was lucky to have received this from the lord mayor of Lilywhite across the island as part of his annual tribute--a talented artist's rendering of a celebrated event at this year's most recent Rum Punch festival. I was tempted to keep it and enjoy the artistry, but when I recognized the subject I thought you might enjoy it."
She turns the frame over, and you see an animated portrait depicting reasonably good likenesses of Threnody and Lark among other contestants in the Rum Punch race, with Threnody in her Desnan mask running through the finish line with a grin of triumph across her face--the animation replaying the moment of her breaking the finish line ribbon and her look of glee over and over again. Some of the audience members cheering the racers on resemble Lee and Sandara as well as a few of the other crew of the just newly anointed Besmara's Whim, most notably a gnome in a ridiculous purple hat who is obviously supposed to be Conchobhar riding Owlbear's shoulders. The title of the painting, engraved into the frame, is "The Dreamrunner's Victory, Lilywhite, Motaku Island," with the date of the event.
"If nothing else, I hope it reminds you and your crew of how far you've come in less than a year. I know this is where your reputation began to grow, as I tend to hear all the things that happen on this island. Be proud--and do not forget how you have started, and who you relied on--each other--to get you where you are." She stands, lifting her drink to initiate a toast....
"I'd have preferred live prisoners or dead bodies over escaped spies. The dead don't bother the living; prisoners can be accounted for and maybe give up more information.I don't know what her plan was for getting out of the Shackles, so I don't know if Zarskia had one last ally or was just going to sail off innocently for Kintargo or something." The tiefling frowns, tip of her tail twitching a little.
"It also stuck in my craw that she got away from us so easily. Being paranoid I understand, and ready for trouble. If she'd stayed, she would've killed us. That whole fight was a mess."
"As for the Regatta...yes I do plan to race the Fearsome Tide. I'd just hoped to fill our hold one more time first. She grins as she receives the portrait. "I've had plenty of bad days since getting press-ganged onto the Wormwood. This made up for a lot of that. Thank you."
"And I prefer your live bodies--" she stops herself, shaking her head--"That did not come out right, I am so sorry. *Ahem* My preference is that you lived to tell the tale than risk a confrontation that may have been unwinnable. While it's wise to consider and learn from the past... if you look back too long, you'll fail to see the prize ahead of you."
She smiles. "In the meantime, please trust I will put my best resources into ensuring as much as possible there are no negative outcomes to her escape. I can't promise no danger--we are denizens of the Shackles after all--danger is part of the point of being here, and I wouldn't have gotten where I am today without diving into a fair bit of it." Her eyes sparkle.
"Don't encourage them," Quinn mutters.
Taniwha wraps the chain from the pendant around his neck and bites the pendant. He smiles and lowers his head in thanks. "I was pretty sure a crew's most treasured member was the dragon fisher that brings them fresh fish, but after my experience being burned to a crisp, I would have to agree with you."
"I'm all for you experiencing our live bodies, but I think you lean more in the direction of our Captain. But thank you for the gift. I will use it to bring maledictions to our foes."
The tiefling looks at Sandara. Then she winks and mouths the words, 'you had your chance' to her first mate.
"Danger is part of life. I just wish we'd done better, both in battle and in terms of our results." Thren sighs. "Ah well. That wave is behind us. The winds carry us ever on. Thank you again for what you've given us. We can still keep our eyes open for more trouble. They may try again after all."
Tessa chuckles. "You may speculate on my 'leanings' all you like, though with what lies before us, I'd rather not muddy business with pleasure... at this moment. Another day, perhaps." She raises her glass.
"Today, let us mark that we have uncovered a dark plot--but carry hope--hope backed with facts and prowess--that with the knowledge you have acquired, we have the means to end it. Let us drink to a prosperous future, favorable winds in our sails, and a Shackles that remains ever free!"
"To a prosperous future, a free Shackles, to easy loot and the right people to spend it with!"
"To the future!"
And the crew rolls the old chariot along into the sunset.
And, as it does every morning, the[ sun rises on the Fearsome Tide, this time at her back as she approaches Brightglass from the windward side. The weather does not, entirely, co-operate on her triumphant return. A storm spun out from the Eye of Abendego rumbles to the North, not quite raining on your parade, but threatening it from a distance.
Lookouts spot you early, and by the time you are ready for mooring, word has spread and a fair crowd has gathered. Lark stands ready to catch one of your lines, welcoming the relatively new formed crew home from their journey. A new day dawns on new adventures, and The Free Captain's Regatta looms on the horizon.
For now, there is news to share and celebrations to celebrate.
Lark calls out as he makes a line fast, "Welcome home, Captain Nocturne. We've handled our little mummy problem. I hope ya have found as much success. What e're the case, welcome ashore."
"It's good to be back, Lark. Glad the undead are dead again. Hope you found some treasure for the trouble and no one died." The bard says with a faint smile. She turns to Sandara. "Let's get the crew on rotations and then check in with what we've missed. I want us ready for the Regatta as soon as possible, so get Doc Imogene going."
Our bard then spots an unfamiliar face in the crowd, a half-elf she doesn't know. "Did we get a castaway while I was gallivanting all over the Shackles?" Thren asks curiously, seeing Cannonball Sal.
Cannonball Sal may look vaguely familiar, although the crew has only seen her once or twice, quietly bickering with Luna Fleetfoot on the Long Sunset, so it may be one of those "you need her face in context" situations to fully recognize her.
Whether one recognizes her or not: this bronze-skinned woman stands at the end of the dock, with a fishing pole in one hand and a bucket full of fish in the other. She is short, but densely muscular for her size, with rough-cut blue-black hair and violet eyes. She wears a slick gray leather buff coat, gloves, and greaves, and a widebrimmed hat with a pair of goggles around the hatband. The hat covers her ears though her angular facial features and brightly colored eyes still suggest elven ancestry.
She tilts her hat at Thren and the other arrivals. "I don't think Luna had the courtesy of properly introducing me last time I was around here. They call me Cannonball Sal, and while I am technically first mate of the Long Sunset, part of why I'm here is to let you know that the Sunset hit a nasty storm and is in drydock fer at least the next month or so. We still had promised Cap'n Lark some building supplies so I rode in on a different cargo ship Luna paid to drop them off. Unfortunately, ya won't be gettin' any more trade from her anytime soon. We also got word from Sunstruck, who you'll recall we lent you, that he'd scampered off to look at more one-eye ruins in Devils Arches, and so that ya might be out a pair of sharp eyes. So here I am!" She points at herself. "Here to help. I ain't so good at waitin', but I am the BEST at sailin' and killin' sea monsters, so Luna figured she do herself and you a good turn by recommending my services to yer care. I'm sorry ta say I missed out on yer pals' Ghol-duck-o hunt, but I can definitely put my spear to the test if you'll let me tag along with ya fer a bit."
Thren pauses, searching through her memories. She glances at Sandara, back to Sal. Her eyes get wide as she remembers the other woman. "I remember you now. I remember you going back and forth with Luna about claiming her ship among other things." The bard pauses, thinking a bit more.
"We could use a strong arm every day. There's room on the Fearsome Tide for you. We're getting ready for the Free Captain's Regatta, and that always skirts the Eye. I bet there will be chances for you to put your spear into a sea monster before the race is over. So I say welcome aboard!"
She then walks down to Lee and smirks. "Good to see you and the talking kitty are still around. You ready to go back out to sea?"
The crew of the Fearsome Tide makes everything safe for shore before descending to the dock. There are greetings of all sorts, from friendly punches to kisses exchanged.
Kahuranga walks through the crowd with his mouth set.
Thren does note Kahuranga's demeanor. Before checking on anyone else, such as her construction crew, she tries to catch up to Kahuranga.
"Captain, you should be seeing to your homecoming and celebrating your success. I have some things to attend to."
"I will, but you're part of my crew. So if there's a problem, I need to know."
"There's no problem. But you are going to have to undertake the Regatta without me. I need to do some research."
The tiefling takes that in. "All right. I'll see about Lee getting back on board, we need a proper seacaster. You though...be careful, all right? Whatever you're planning." The tiefling gives the sylph a brief smile before returning to the crew.
Once everyone is sorted out, people are fed, greetings exchanged, Thren gathers her crew. "Listen up! I aim to run the Regatta. You all know what that means. Some ships don't make it, some don't even survive, but if we win, that's a Pirate Council seat, a nice pile of coin, and another island of our own. It's dangerous, but what day of our lives isn't? We'll be facing the Eye, not men. At least the storm holds us all in equal contempt. Any of you who want off, that's fine. No ill will for not wanting to face that storm. You say you're staying on, you know what that means too. We got work to do on the Fearsome Tide to get ready. But now I ask you, my fellow pirates: are YOU ready?"
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As Kahuranga passes, she notices less the sylph and more his companion. "Ooh, neat, tidepool dragon." She speaks quietly just in reaction.
Sal whistles when she hears of the Regatta. After Thren speaks, she speaks to Thren and the crew. She begins dark and quiet. "I've sailed the Eye. That thing chewed up my ship and its crew, spat me out. I've seen the fury of that demon wind up front, the damage it yearns to do to every living soul comes through it, and I say..." She drops her fishing pole on the deck, reaches into her haversack, and pulls out her "fishing spear," a wicked three-pronged adamantine tipped polearm, and suddenly bursts into a grin. "LET ME AT 'EM!" she shouts, now building into a font of enthusiasm. "That little fishing boat I was on couldn't handle but you all are gods-damned PIRATES, seasoned sea-men and -women all, and this is the freakin' Fearsome Tide, it ain't gonna let no little breeze with a temper tantrum tell it what ta do. Whaddya say!?"
Lee, being a Brightglass regular would be fairly easy to find.