Barefoot Sams and Giffer make eye contact (such as they can) and nod almost imperceptibly before stepping forward. Giffer pipes up, "I'm ready, well, not strictly ready at the moment, but I'm with you!"
Sams simply nods her affirmation.
At that, most of the crew joins in raising their voices.
Thren lets her crew speak their peace.
"Then tonight, we celebrate! Tomorrow, we prepare for the Regatta, but nothing wrong with some fun today right?" The tiefling cheers. "Let us eat, drink, carouse, and enjoy ourselves, for tomorrow Besmara may take us all!"
Thren then finds Lee amidst the throng as she lets them vent and cheer.
"Good to see you weren't squashed by a mummmy Lee. You ready to come back to sea? Our other seacaster seems preoccupied, Sunstruck went off to another island, it'd be good to have some magical power and good friends on my ship again. What do you say?"
Lee is obviously pleased to see Thren. He invites her in and makes sure she has a drink while she's giving her pitch for getting back to the seafaring life.
"Well, well, well! I could certainly stand to see more of the world and now that I've gotten things sorted out I'm keen to get back to it. Are we off to any specific tasks? Something I should prepare for emotionally and physically?"
Even though Lee talks about preparing, it is obvious that he's ready to go. Every the traveler, it looks like he could pack a bag and be off in no time.
"Just a little race into the Eye of Abendego and out again for a chance of a seat on the Pirate Council, nothing serious," the tiefling woman jokes.
While Lee and Thren are chatting, Muffin ambles in.
He seems, if anything, bigger and sleeker than Thren remembers.
"Hello, Threnody. Did Lehland tell you he knows how to fly now? He's a beginner and I try to not critique him too harshly when he crashes into things."
And with that he curls up next to Lee.
Muffin seems less insistent on being petted but seems to enjoy it more.
The bard starts when Muffin speaks to her, but then smiles. "No, he hasn't gotten to that part yet. I'll keep that in mind when I see you two flying about Muffin. Are you up for a return to the sea for that matter?" Thren asks.
The new girl eyes the purplish-gray cat that seems to be just floating off the ground. "Say, I don't think that kit's ordinary..." she observes sagely. As he speaks, she asks the most obvious question that comes to mind, holding up her bucket of still-slightly-wriggling fish. "Do ya like fish, strange kit?"
It will take Doc Imogene a few days to make the upgrades to the Fearsome Tide, and then you will need to make your way back to Port Peril in time to enter the Regatta. The entree fee is 500 gp.
During the several days required to upgrade her ship, Thren's going to spend some time with her followers. Checking up on them, making sure they're doing well. She'll walk off the work of the craftspeople. That first night, though, is a party. If there's time, she'll try to explore the island a bit too. Nothing too far from the base though. And examine remaining stocks of resources.
The first night is warm and clear, with torches and moon providing plenty of light for carousing. There is much singing, dancing, drinking, gambling, storytelling, and catching up as everyone comes back together.
Gorton and Seraphina take a break from their construction projects to aid Doc Imgogene and expedite the upgrades on the ship.
Sal works on cleaning her fish and offering them up to Kroop for turning them into a party-class meal. She chats with Samms about fishing and otherwise walks around and introduces herself to crew, ship and stronghold alike. She sometimes stumbles into conversations that clearly were private but likely doesn't do too much permanent damage.
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Thren will help and/or supervise work on her ship. But not being a complete fool, she'll talk to Sandara or Kroop about the Regatta.
"What do we know about the race? Any rules? The course?"
Lee considers Thren's question.
"I dunno. Depends on the course and the rules, maybe? I can fly and give superior looking out. I have a little short-range dimension doorways if we need to move really quickly over short distances, right? I can defend us from other casters, if that's even allowed. And, of course, you know all about my ability the sweep decks clean without damaging the target boat. I still have that skill."
Lee considers further.
"I can still cook. You know I'll do whatever."
"I reckon in a race with other Free Cap'ns of the Shackles, it ain't so much a matter of 'allowed' as what ya can get away with. And at that, I dunno if they'd want ya ta know the course ahead of time, lest sea-curs as the likes of those on the Wormwood would booby trap the route. I could be wrong though."
She squints at Lee. "Have we met yet? I'm Sal. Folks call me Cannonball. For my swimmin' skills, that is, I ain't a gunner."
Kroop knows a bit, "Word is that the race course this year is being set by the Master of Gales, what has won it the last 6 or 7 years. He isn't sailing in it this year, so the competition is more wide open than it has been in a while. There will be a big reveal in Port Peril, and more revealed when you sail to wherever the starting line is set."
The one last thing Thren wants to do while we're here is she'll find Yamtisy.
"We'll be in Port Peril before long. If there's time, we can get you that tattoo you want. Unless you want to wait till after we've run the race and get it when we celebrate our victory." The bard suggests brightly.
Lee responds to Sal.
"Nice to meet you. I'm not a gunner either, sadly. But I have been know to cast a spell or two, so maybe we'll be able to sort things out without unnecessary cannonry."
Lee pauses to consider.
"Is 'cannonry' a word? Cannoneering, maybe? Cannonation? Who can say for sure? Anyway, it's good to be back on a good boat with a good crew."
"Heck if I know, I couldn't write barely more'n my own name till I was 18 or so. All's I know is with my harpoon arm, you don't need a cannon, that's fer sure." She grins.
The trip to Port Peril passes without difficulty, but when you arrive you find the harbor crowded with ships and the population of the pirate capital bloated with the crews of competitor ships and spectators alike. Perhaps no event commands as much attention in The Shackles as the Regatta, and most especially this year with the competition being so open.
The parties are glorious, filling pubs and taverns, flowing up and down streets, and spilling onto beaches.
As the race date draws close and the last competitors arrive, the city buzzes with speculation about the course for this year's race. A week before the race begins, seagulls fly through the city, taking up posts on roof lentils, flying into bars, landing on docks, etc., and cry out in their gull voices, "The Master of Gales declares, 'At CAULDRON ROCK you'll find your fate, pray you do not come too late...'
Crews and captains race to their ships, and a huge flotilla of races and spectators set sail northward out of Jeopardy Bay. Cauldron Rock is the northernmost speck of land on most maps of The Shackles.
Arriving at Cauldron Rock, the race fleet anchors northeast of the island. The captains of most of the competing ships disallow shore leave for their crews, but numerous spectators make merry on their ships or
on a small sandy beach nearby, in spite of intermittent rain
and wind from the giant hurricane to the north.
The afternoon before the race, the Master of the Gales calls a meeting of all competing ships’ captains and their senior officers aboard his xebec, the Kraken.
In Port Peril
Thren will ask around for who is the best tattoo artist in the city and get Yamtisy there. "As promised," she'll add. The captain covers the cost herself, makes sure the place is as good as claimed, and all is in order.
She pays the 500 gp entry fee with a smile. As she hands off the sack of coin, the bard's smile quirks up to a full grin. "Coin is fine well and good, it spends. But we're pirates, one and all. We're here for loot. I say let's make this interesting." The bard tugs off the ring of the iron skull and drops that in the bag too. "One magic ring. Just for some spice in the race. I bet none of the other captains have the guts to put it on the line."
Sal approaches Thren, Lee, Yamtisy, Belina, Quinn, and Ursa as the senior officers... "Uh... I ain't meanin' to be cheeky, and I really appreciate you inviting me aboard, but I ain't clear on what I'm actually supposed to be doing. I mean, no offense, but I got many years of experience and I was first mate on the Sunset so I feel like it'd be a waste of all of our time were I just a swab. At the same time, doing the job I was doin' before don't make much sense... you've got yer own mate, Capn, and it's important that yer first mate be someone who knows ya well, and we've only first met, so Quinn needn't worry I'm after her job. I'm sure yer Bosun here'd be happy ta assign me to whatever's needed but a girl's gotta know what's expected of her, know what I mean? I only know a tiny blot of spells so I reckon I'm not yer best choice for caster, and I ain't never worked with the big weapons outside o' yer occasional harpoon gun fer whalin'. But I could handle yer armory, or if ya need a dissy-plin-ar-ean type, I shout orders real good. Or maybe ya need another shift lead or somethin'. Whaddya say?"
Sal is not naturally charming, but she knows booze makes people talk, so she spends 50 gp at various establishments hoping to get people soused to chat about the race.
"Think you can handle the armory and keep the crew in line?" Thren is amused. "I could use a master gunner. Bosun, well, I'd have to see you in that role, but have no objections if you can do it. Opinions?" The bard asks her officers.
Thren looks at Sal, thinking hard. "We haven't had a master-at-arms since Corwin. I think you'd be a good fit for that, so the position is yours."
Sal finds herself surrounded by a lot of useless speculation. With a new person planning the race, everyone has ideas about what the route will look like, but no one seems to have any inside information.
Lee takes note of the conversation between Thren & Sal. Once they finish he steps over to Thren.
"I noticed you getting Sal settled into the chain of command. Wise move, not letting something that important lay. I'm wondering where you need me to fit in as well. I've been a passenger so far and can stay that way, but if I give an order and some sailor follows it, I'll have done wrong and so will the sailor who follows."
Gesturing to Muffin, who looks uncomfortably large in his old spot on Lee's shoulder, Lee continues, "I'd not worry about Muffin. Once he starts giving orders we'll be in a terrible fix anyway."
"I need a new seacaster Lee and you've got experience in the job. Care to take up your old position?" Thren says simply.
"That's what I expected. Just verifying, right?
I just didn't need to end up in the galley again,,,"
"I'll assume you're looking for a snack if you're in the galley." Thren grins.
The afternoon before the race, the Master of the Gales calls a meeting of all competing ships’ captains and their senior officers aboard his xebec, the Kraken.
The Master of Gales is an imposing man with tanned, weather-beaten skin and long windblown hair and beard. His first mate is tanned half elf woman with pale blond hair. As the older man speaks, she moves between crews, handing out scroll tubes containing rudimentary maps showing the course of the race (but lacking in useful navigational details).
The mysterious pirate lord has a voice like the crash of waves on rocks as he details the race, "Well come to the Free Captains Regatta. After winning for the last many years, I have decided to give someone else a chance. The course that I have set will test you and your crews, taking you along the edge of the Eye and plunging ye into the storm itself. I remind you that the Regatta is a race, not a battle, and not a chance to avenge past slights. My friends and I will be closely watching the race... at which he looks skyward toward the gulls and pelicans circling overhead. " Any ship found attacking another vessel, or interfering with another vessel's progress, will be disqualified, or, if they persist, sunk."
Here he pauses, taking the time to catch each competing captain's eye.
"While you will be racing those you see here, your most dangerous opponents will be Nature and the Eye, not to mention your own fears and weaknesses. The race will begin as the sun rises tomorrow. So make your preparations and pray to whatever gods favor you."
Your fellow racers are the Albatross, Barnacled B~$~*, Bonny Witch, Chimera’s Teeth, Darcy’s Pillage, Kelizandri’s Favor, Pharasma’s Price, Promise’s Bounty, Redcap, Sea’s Largess, Skullduggery, Stormrunner, Sullied Strumpet, Wave Wraith, and lastly, the Wormwood.
An hour before dawn, a small launch approaches with three crew aboard. "Hail the ship! Permission to come aboard, Captain Nocturne."
You see that two pirates handle the oars and standing in the small boat is a friendly face framed by red hair that glows in the predawn light. Tessa Fairwind.
Sal returns to the ship drunker and no less wiser, and goes to sleep off her failed reconnaissance so that, day of, she is bright eyed and pointy eared and ready to go.
In the morning she is helping Ursa haul in and sort some final supplies when the launch approaches the ship. She lets out a low whistle, "Sharks bite me, is that...?"
"An acquaintance, an ally of ours, yes Sal, it is." Thren affirms. She looks over the rail and waves.
"Permission granted! Rosie, Cog, help them as needed!" The tiefling calls back.
"No need to take the boat aboard, I'm not above climbing a line."
She does so easily and clambers onto the deck. "I thought since our previous dealings have been less than public, I'd take the opportunity to make our acquaintance known to the crowd. Might save you some trouble, or it might attract the attention of those we have been looking into. Perhaps we can learn something. But that is mine concern, for now. Yours should be winning this race, of course. And I did want to wish you smooth sailing and good fortune, but knowing Gales I'm sure the smooth sailing is unlikely."
"I'm confident we'll win. I do have some experience winning races in the Shackles after all, smooth sailing or not." Thren answers confidently. "Captain Fairwind, you haven't met several of my officers before. I've a new master-at-arms, Cannonball Sal-" the bard points out the half-elf, "-and my returning seacaster, Lee." Thren introduces the halfling.
"You truly have a deep reserve of back up officers. It seems every time we meet you have a new staff. But I see that your pilot Belina stands ready, and several other familiar faces.
She turns to the newcomers, "Well Met, Sal, and Lee. May your blades and spells be sharp alike."
"Well met." Sal nods and tilts her hat. [b]"I'm glad I'm welcome aboard, but as I hear't, most ships in the Shackles have ta rotate in new crew don't they... wind, waves, and wobbly sea legs make for fast turnover, yeah? But I reckon the souls aboard this rig today can stand firm."
After pleasantries are exchanged, Sal finishes what she's doing and asks Belina if she can look at the rough course map, seeing if she can offer insights as to their planned route.
"Let's have a drink before the race tomorrow, to celebrate our lives, the open seas, the loot we gather, and the fame we'll have when we win this race!" The tiefling orders. "Bring up some wine!"
Once drinks are found for the guesting captain, Thren smiles and raises hers. "Today, let us enjoy life. Tomorrow, we face down a storm the gods put in our path. And we'll be coming out the other side as the winners of the Regatta!"
Lee joins in the cocktails and small talk, though he seems to be pondering when not immediately engaged.
He eventually finds Thren in a quiet moment:
"With the usual favorite out of the race this year, some of the previous races' also-rans are going to be desperate to win. And desperation is a cruel goad. Do we know who's been coming in second of late?"
"Also, I've been thinking, what would 'attacking another vessel, or interfering with another vessel's progress' look like? Not the obvious stuff, of course, but the non-obvious. Anything odd or out-of-place needs to be noted. Has anything unusual gone on on the ship while in port? Any guest on board or unexpected liaisons, maybe? I'm just trying to set aside my scruples and try to consider what, say, the crew of The Wormwood would do. Especially considering anything to hinder us before the race or plant the seeds of destruction before they are being observed during the event."
Lee, still looking thoughtful, casts Detect Magic on himself and on Muffin and says:
"I'm off for a tour of the ship just to see what I can see. You're welcome to come along or to delegate someone to go with us if you like."
"I don't know what other ships have competed in past years, sorry to say. I figured many would be like us, up and comers who see a chance to stand out. But since ships every year fail to finish the race if not sink, some might have decided not to try again."
"For interference or attack, I imagine using our ram, or shooting at each other, would qualify. Throwing spells at one another probably qualifies too, beyond say taunting and teasing. Otherwise, everything's probably game. But no one's made me aware of anything odd or anyone on our ship who shouldn't be. That's why I had Doc Imogene do the upgrade work back at our drydock, to make sure no one sabotaged the ship." She pauses."If you're going to go over the ship, get Imogene to go with you, so you can see things magically while we get the professional view. Just to be sure."