The first thing you is aware of is the heat. Your vision is black and you hear nothing but a distant, dull roar, but you know that it's hot. And you are thirsty. Your lips are parched and dry, and why does your mouth taste of salt?
These questions become less clear as more of your senses return. The darkness vanishes into blinding sunlight and that dull roar turns into the sound of waves rolling into the shore. Through a pounding headache, you recognize the feeling of sand against your back, cold water lapping at your feet, and a strange pressure on your foot. Then, suddenly, a sharp pain lances through that foot, jarring you completely awake.
You are on an unfamiliar beach surrounded by the rest of your fellow passengers. The sun is bright and hot, with seagulls pinioning above in a clear sky. Your gear is stacked in a haphazard pile next to you, but most worryingly of all, a chitinous creature the size of a dog sits on your legs, trying to chew its way through your boot.
------
"What the bloody...." St. John, grabs a branch and waves it menacingly as he stands up.
As Amboy lay listing to the shouts and screams he tries to piece together what is going on. There had been shouting and screaming the night before. Why? Now he is lying on solid ground with the sun beating down on him. Where was he? He opens his eyes and sees the beach, the surf, the bodies, the debris, and the creatures. What happened?
More screams draw his attention. Something is trying to eat the others.
He jumps up trying to avoid the creatures.
The pain lancing through Karathiel's foot is the first clue that something is wrong. Waking with a sharp cry in Elvish (it doesn't translate into anything printable), she opens her eyes.
Ouch. She immediately closes them to a near-squint, trying to blot out the sun's glare. Gods, it's bright. And the salty thirstiness doesn't improve matters, either.
But the most pressing matter is defence. Karathiel's pistol is her most valuable possession. She would never leave it anywhere unless it was specifically forbidden to carry weapons. But it's not much use when something's already upon her.
Grabbing a nearby bit of wood, she flails uselessly at the thing, trying without success to drive it off.
His eyes were dazed and for a couple seconds Adornis asked himself if he was once more drunk beyond help... his head and stomach felt exactly the same way. "Where in the hell am I... Crap!" he exclaims as he pulls his feet away from the creature and jumps on his feet.
The first thing Imhara is aware of as her consciousness slowly returns is the searing heat at her back, reminiscent of a pain she hasn't felt in many years but could never forget. As a weak, dry cough racks her slim frame, the second thing she is aware of is that she is lying face down in the sand. The pounding in her skull worsens as she lifts her head to survey her surroundings. Hearing voices, she turns to see who is with her, but is unable to make out anything other than a few blurry, vaguely human shapes, along with what appear to be skittering blue blobs. Her vision resolves momentarily, and, at the sight of the giant bugs, Imhara plants her sandaled feet to the sand and rolls backward with a cry of disgust.
Cethel slowly gets to his feet, dimly aware of... something... before fully waking up when he sees the strange creatures. Hoping to scare them off, he points and creates four bright red lights which appear on the strange creatures.
Eurypterids, also known as sea scorpions, lash out at anything that might be food, and once they’ve tasted prey, are single-minded in their pursuit. Although quite at home in the open sea, most eurypterids are capable of scuttling around on land and can exist out of water indefinitely.
The creatures continue their attacks, scuttling after their now awake prey. One clamps its pincer around St. John's calf, drawing blood. The others are less successful, failing to reach the other castaways. They seem unaffected by Cethel's illusions, mindless in their pursuit of food.
Still trying to avoid being attacked, Adornis reaches for a piece of sturdy wood, weights it in his hands and, after grabbing it with both hands, lunges forward, striking the creature. His attack is perfect and after the creature is motionless on the beach, he half bows to the others, making flourishes with his piece of wood as if it was a legendary sword, "I hope you paid attention to my attack St. John! I've told you I was once a master duelist and you did not believe in me..." Adornis was laughing, failing to see any downside of being lost in god-forsaken beach.
St. John attacks the creature attacking him "And I still don't! But at least you have created the start of dinner."
Amboy draws his rapier and attacks the nearest creature.
Realising that she's not going to win any fights with a length of wood, Karathiel rolls away, drawing her pistol.
Praying to Abadar that her gun has survived the ravages of seawater and sand, she points it at the thing attacking her and pulls the trigger.
Cethel grabs a branch and moves up to engage one of the creatures.
After getting to her feet, Imhara studies the scene before her and, seeing that the others seem to be handling themselves against the sea scorpions for now, moves to the pile of gear and quickly begins to sort through it for her crossbow. Although a few of her 'companions' seem capable with such rudimentary weapons, she harbors no illusions about how inept she would be at fending off the vermin with those clubs.
Despite the sudden shock of your awakening, you manage to quickly slay the curious predators. Adornis crushes the carapace of a euryptid with a masterful swing of his club; Amboy's attacker meets a similar fate at the end of his rapier. St. John finishes off the last one with a deadly overhand swing.
With the battle over, your surroundings become more clear. Behind you, a wall of green rises in the form of a dense jungle filled with a cacophony of life. To either side, ragged arms of jagged rocks reach out to embrace a wave-tossed cove, while ahead, the waters of the sea surge and churn between the beach and a line of razor-sharp rocks. Caught among those rocks is the ragged hull of a ship, listing dangerously to port and partially submerged. The ship looks familiar: it's the Jenivere.
Gradually, your fellow castaways awake. The first to come to is a dark-skinned Mwangi man dressed in rags with filthy matted hair and beard speckled with grey. His hands are manacled and he raises them to block out the harsh sun. "Where am I?" he gasps. "What happened?"
The red-headed beauty you know as Sasha immediately leaps to her feet and spins around scanning for threats. In whatever chaos you left, the back of her blouse tore open, revealing a pair of stylized mantis claw tattoos.
Gelik sits up, before immediately rolling over and vomiting into the beach. "Sweet Besmara's cleat, my head hurts." he complains.
Ishirou is silent and dour, but that is an expression you've become used to seeing from him aboard the Jenivere.
Finally, Aerys, the half-elf recluse, is still unconscious, although she thrashes against a nightmare attack, weakly protesting about snakes.
Of any of the crew or Ieana, there is no obvious sign.
St. John goes over to the pile of gear and starts pulling out his stuff and putting it on. "I don't know what happened. Does anyone remember anything after dinner?" When he gets no answer in the affirmative he then says, "Maybe we should head out to the wreck to see what we can learn after we all gear up."
Amboy starts pulling his gear out of his bag and checking it over.
It's all here and still dry.
He looks around at the others on the beach. They were all passengers. He seems to be the only surviving member of the crew.
He walks over to Jask, pulls out his picks, and begins working on the manacles.
"I don't think you will be needed those. I don't know where they were taking you or why. For you are just another castaway stuck on beach with the rest of us."
He then walks over to Mr. Smythe, "All I remember is going to dinner and then everything went crazy. I remember screams, running, being thrown in the air. After that it was wet, cold, and dark."
"Before we search the wreck I think we should search the beach for any other survivors."
Karathiel spreads her cloak on the ground, before sitting down cross-legged and meticulously disassembles her pistol. Inspecting each of its parts minutely, she wipes them with an oily rag to remove any sand and salt water. Satisfied, she reassembles the gun and replaces it on her belt. Standing in one swift movement, she moves over to the rest of her gear.
Picking up one of her waterskins, Karathiel takes several careful sips, before going over to tend to Gelik. The small gnome and she have struck up some sort of friendship over the voyage, and he looks in distress. "Here." She offers him some water.
Where are we? She looks around the beach, and up at the sun, trying to guess their position. Hopeless. Too few clues. What she does spot is Amboy unshackling Jask. She shrugs inwardly: it doesn't look like any of them are going to make their destination any time soon. But...
"Are you sure that's wise?" Her voice is quiet, and her red eyes do not look directly at Amboy. "He may be in chains for a reason. I'd hate for him to cut our throats while we're sleeping."
"The same could be said about any of us. As far as I can tell none of us knows anything about the others, except for Gelik who has entertained all of us with his exotic tales"
"We have all seen each other on the ship." He looks at each of the survivors one by one until his gaze stops on Mwangi woman. Except for you. What is your story?
He continues, "We all had our destinations ahead of us but for now we have been delayed. We are going to have to find out where we are. I am not sure if this is an island or the mainland. Is there civilization nearby or are we castaways stranded on a deserted island. We will all have to trust each other for now to get through this."
Stepping back from the others to make himself the center of attention he bows to the crowd and states in a loud clear voice, "My name is Amboy Yacolt and I hail from Corentyn in Chelix. I boarded the ship there and become part of the crew. This was my first sea voyage and so far it has not been a pleasant one. I wish to get back to my home as soon as possible."
With that he waits for someone to else to introduce themselves.
There's a first... Imhara thinks, looking on with no small amount of surprise as Amboy releases the Mwangi man from his shackles. Willing to chalk it up to Chelish pragmatism, the young witch goes back to securing her gear after one last curious look at the man.
Once she has recovered her things, Imhara sets about inspecting the most important items in her satchel to be sure that the tide has not ruined them. First, she draws out a plain wooden box held closed by a simple hook clasp; a healer's kit. After checking that the gauze and herbs are still dry, and what few vials containing various liquids and powders are unbroken, she reseals the kit and sets it to the side. The next item she pulls out is a small scroll case containing a map of the Mwangi Expense. Unfurling the delicate bit of parchment in her hands, Imhara stands and begins to alternately study her surroundings and the features inked on the map. Where they are seems to be the most pressing question on everyone's mind, and she intends to see it answered.
Imhara glances up from the map when Amboy begins making his introduction, noting what she interprets as a hint of suspicion in his eyes as he regards her. In the brief lull that follows the man's rather formal introduction--no surprise there; Chelish folk do love to stand on ceremony--Imhara focuses her attention back on the map as she tries to come up with an explanation for her sudden appearance. Despite the slim likelihood of there being any sort of law where they've washed up, she doesn't want others prying too deeply into her recent history. "My name is Imhara. Khamisi. I came aboard the ship not long ago, in Senghor," she explains, the warm, musical accent she speaks in marking her as a Mwangi native. "I have not left my cabin much since then."
She always was a terrible liar.
Cethel glances around, taking stock of the situation.
"Is anyone injured?"
Retrieving his gear and going through it, He gauges his surroundings and tries to figure out where they are.
Cethel turns to the new person, not recognizing her.
"Hello! My name is Cethel. Nice to meet you.
The most pressing matter is to get some sort of camp made. The ship may have supplies or clues, but it may also be dangerous."
Adornis reaches for his gear like the others, even if not as eager as the others... he actually didn't care too much about his gear since nothing was really too personal. Taking Amboy's cue, Adornis takes his place before presenting himself with his trident and net in hand, "And I'm Adornis Vrastoyllar, humble warrior of Vrastoyllar House and descendant from the mysterious sea elves! Unfortunately I've not inherited their ability to breath underwater, just their grace and beauty..." he smiles as he bows.
After having presented himself, Adornis sits in front of Imhara, admiring her features. "Hum... I'm curious about which was your cabin... could you tell me?" he smiles once more, eager to catch her in her own lie.
weather, the surrounding scenery, and some common-sense deductions about what you knew of your course is enough to establish that you've likely wrecked upon Smuggler's Shiv.
The shackled Mwangi man glares at Karathiel with watery grey eyes. "I am no murderer," he declares. Amboy is unable to open the manacles; they seem to be quite well constructed.
"A pleasure, Cethel," says Imhara with a courteous nod of her head. Gnomes were a rare sight in and around the small colonial town the witch hailed from, but that didn't keep her from forming a favorable opinion of them. Gnomes seemed to her to be far less guileful than their taller counterparts, but, admittedly, the only source of her information were from the stories exchanged among her people--folks who had as little knowledge about the fey creatures as she. There will be time enough to separate fact from fiction later. It isn't as if any of us are going anywhere soon...
The question Adornis poses might have come across as little more than idle curiosity if only the elf's smile weren't a touch too sharp for Imhara's liking. It reminds her unpleasantly of the smile that would play on the lips of Mistress Viatora whenever the Lady was in a particularly cruel mood. Briefly fixing the elf with a dry, unamused look, Imhara gently rolls the map back up before placing it back in the scroll case. "The room was toward the aft of the ship. Far beneath the notice of a scion from such a noble house, no doubt," she says in an tone devoid of inflection.
Hoping to head off any further inquiries, Imhara decides to join the discussion of their future plans. "You are all correct. Setting up a camp, looking for the missing crew members, and searching the wreckage for anything of use are all of equal importance. But there are enough of us here that no one task has to take precedence over the others," she says, her eyes moving over those gathered before stopping on the still unconscious Aerys. It almost seems a kindness to let her keep sleeping, nightmares or no. But we need everyone to do their part if we're going to make off this island. Crouching next to the half-elf's prone form, Imhara grasps the woman's shoulder and tries to rouse her with a few firm shakes.
Frustrated that he could not open the lock he tells Jask, "I guess we are going to have to find the key. Do you happen to know who had it or where they stored it?"
It's commonly believed that the shores of Smuggler's Shiv are haunted by the ghosts and ghouls of the sailors who have died on the jagged rocks and reefs surrounding the island. These rumors are supported by reports of several failed attempts to establish long-lasting colonies on the remote island.
Jask shrugs, the motion unimpeded by his shackles. "I expect that the keys are lost to the sea. The captain carried them."
His Taldan carries a noticeable Sargavan accent.
We're definitely on an island. I think the specific one we're on is known as Smuggler's Shiv. That sound familiar to anyone?
Amboy looks out the ship, wondering where the captain is.
"When we head out to the ship we can look for him and the keys. If we can't find them I will look in the ships tool locker and find something to open them with."
We need to wait for low tide to head out to the ship.
Adornis knew for sure that the girl was lying to him but since she seemed resolute in not telling the truth, he found no reason to antagonize her anymore... after all, she was quite a vision. "Ah... what a shame! I should have paid more attention then if I missed you. Such beauty would for sure make the trip even more memorable!" He bows slightly to her.
When asked about Smuggler's Shiv, Adornis shakes his head, but doesn't lose the smile in his face, "Ah, unfortunately I know nothing about this place, but I bet it is a wonderful place for some well deserved vacations! Look around, we have a beautiful beach, some coconuts and... more coconuts it seems. Oh, and seafood!" he points to the dead creatures behind him.
"All right, so lets get moving with this camp! I'm eager to show you my abilities... so, tell me, Cethel, have I already told you I was once an explorer? Ah, have you ever heard that better than finding something that you were looking for is finding something you weren't looking for but that is amazing nevertheless?" He smiles once more, calling the others to follow him, "Come! Sooner we set up a camp, sooner we can eat those delicious looking creatures and play songs by the moon!"
A lifetime of being a bounty-hunter living on the fringes (and her past as an orphan) has left Karathiel with a knack for being able to read people. Her keen ears easily pick out the lies being told.
Her red eyes sweep briefly over Imhara, and she gives a slight chuckle. "Nobody here's going to demand you pay your passage. Might as well tell the truth."
We're definitely on an island. I think the specific one we're on is known as Smuggler's Shiv. That sound familiar to anyone?
She shakes her head. "Never heard of it."
The she-elf squints in the harsh, unforgiving sunlight. "We need shelter and a source of water."
Imhara nods at Cethel's question and tells the group, "We have indeed landed on Smuggler's Shiv. The waters surrounding this island are treacherous, as we all have no doubt witnessed, and this place has something of a reputation for wrecking ships that stray too close. ...I cannot speak to the Captain's sailing expertise, but if the island is as feared as I recall, it begs the question of how he could have mistakenly marooned us here."
Her relief at Adornis dropping his line of questioning is momentarily overshadowed by surprise and perhaps the slightest bit of coyness at the elf's blatant flirting. I wouldn't have thought I was his type, the witch thinks, her eyes briefly glancing over to Karathiel before focusing back to Adornis. Her lips quirk into the faintest of smiles despite herself and their situation, and her tone is one of dry amusement as she replies to the man's overtures. "I understand your folk have an unthinkably long lifespan, but I'm sure even you won't be forgetting this journey any time soon."
Whatever humor Imhara had moments before evaporates at the she-elf's implication like a puddle in the midday Mwangi sun. "Then what does it matter where I was or how I got there?" she nearly hisses at Karathiel. "I am here now, am I not?" Her warm, hazel eyes narrow almost to slits as she regards the elf, until the awareness of her outburst trickles in. Her temper was forever getting her into trouble.
A blush darkens the skin of her cheeks as she rises from crouching next to Aerys' prone form. Imhara ducks her head to avoid meeting the others' looks, brushing sand off of her knee-length white shift and bare legs as she does. Once she regains her composure, she moves away from the group setting up camp to address Amboy and St. John. "I will go investigate what remains of the ship and bring back anything of use I may find. If you are up to the task, I would welcome your help," she stiffly tells the men, working--and mostly failing--to keep the anger out her voice.
Her tone is notably softer as she addresses Jask, taking his weathered hands in both of hers as she reassures him in their native tongue.
As the others prepare to make camp, Amboy suggest to the group that they check the tree line for trials that lead out to the beach. No one should go into the jungle alone and everyone should stay in sight of the camp.
When Imhara mentions heading out to the ship he says, "I will go with you but I suggest we wait for low tide. There will be less chance of the ship rolling and trapping any of us inside."
St. John looks down his nose at Imhara and tells her "What matters is whether you are a liar as well as a thief, but you are right in that you are here now." He then turns his back on her and walks over to Amboy "You are right that it might be safer to wait for low tide, but the wreck may break up before then. If that happens anything useful on there will be gone. I suggest we go now. Karathiel, what do you think?"
If St. John's apparent disdain for her bothers Imhara, she does a remarkable job of hiding it, especially given her previous display of temper moments before. Many years of being looked down upon by people like him has given the witch something of a tolerance for being treated dismissively, after all. No matter. Let them keep underestimating me. It has been the downfall of one already. No, if anything she almost feels a swell of pity for the man. Almost.
"What a charmed life you must have left behind, to not have to resort to lies or stealing in order to make do," Imhara says, slinging her pack over her shoulders as she prepares to head out to what remains of the ship. "I would pray that you survive out here in the wilds long enough to get back to your soft, comfortable life."
That she finds herself in agreement with the man moments later does not sit well with Imhara. Still, if St. John's is the only help she'll have in exploring the wrecked ship now rather than later, she will take it, if somewhat reluctantly. "I'm willing to take my chances with the tide."
Amboy follows Imhara down to the shore out of eye shot from the others.
Adornis waves at the two as they leave the group for the wreck, "Be careful miss Khamisi! And keep your fingers to yourself, Boy! I can spot someone with sticky fingers when I see one! I had ample training with a mirror!" Adornis laughs as he waits for Cethel to join him while building a shelter.
Adornis then gestures to Karathiel and the other survivors, "Aerys is still with us, right? Nevertheless, could you carry her, Ishirou? If everything goes as planned, we'll be drinking coconuts when they return to us..."
Amboy looks back or his shoulder at Adornis and smiles.
Whispering to Imbara,
"You are right that it might be safer to wait for low tide, but the wreck may break up before then. If that happens anything useful on there will be gone. I suggest we go now. Karathiel, what do you think?"
Karathiel squints at the man, her eyes watering even under the hood of her cloak. "I think I would like to be out of this damn sunlight. Inside the wreck's as good a place as any."
She wipes down her pistol once more, and re-checks that the cartridges are safely stowed in her waterproof bag, before oiling the blade of her scimitar.
Slotting it back into its scabbard, she nods. "Let's go."
"Stop the bickering. It won't do any of us any good."
Cethel finds three stones, touches his symbol to each, and b=mutters something inaudible. They begin to softly glow.
He then heads toward the remains of the ship.
When Sargava was first settled, Chelish engineers erected a lighthouse on the Shiv's southwest shore. The light was intended to warn approaching ships of the dangerous waters and, eventually, was to have been the first building in a small colony. The light and all plans for colonization were abandoned just after completion amid rumors of curses, haunts, and cannibalism.
The man looks at Imhara, his eyes full of hope, before replying in Polyglot.
The shackled man watches Amboy and Imhara walk away and turns to the rest of the party. "More should go with them. There's no telling what could be on that wreck."
Imhara rolls her eyes at Adornis' parting comments, but the slight smirk that plays on her lips suggests that she's amused by the elf's antics rather than annoyed. At least our time stranded here won't be boring.
As the pair makes their way down the beach toward the remains of the Jenivere, Imhara cuts her eyes at Amboy, trying to get the measure of him. In ordinary circumstances, a Chelish man would not be Imhara's first choice to accept help from, but Amboy has so far proved to her to be much different from the sort of Chelaxians the witch has known. Perhaps things work differently in Cheliax than in the colonies down here. Unlikely as that seems.
Imhara is brought out of her idle musings at Amboy's words. "I suppose it was foolish of me to try to lie about paying my way onto the ship. When you mentioned that you were one of the crew, I worried you might have some animosity toward a stowaway. Had I known then that our journeys had a similar start, I might have saved myself some trouble," she says, giving Amboy a wry smile.
As the group draws closer to the wreck, Imhara makes sure to keep an eye out for anything amiss. She recalls the bit about Smuggler's Shiv that is most unsettling, which is its purportedly haunted shores. As a witch who communes daily with the spirits of her ancestors, such rumors were well within the realm of possibility for her. "They say that the shores of this island are haunted by all the souls who met their end by the Shiv's jagged rocks. Whether you believe in the unquiet dead or not, I would advise everyone to be on the lookout for more than just sea scorpions."
You move along the beach, pausing to break inside the green wall of jungle plants when the sun is at its hottest. Eventually, with the sun low high on the horizon, you finish the short journey to what remains of the Jenivere. The slippery rocks exposed by the tide make for a slow journey, but you navigate a path, allowing you to walk all the way up to a ledge that sits slightly above the wreck.
Even a cursory glance is enough to confirm that the Jenivere will never sail again. Only the fortuitous presence of a sharp ridge of rock near the side of the sheer cliff wall has prevented the wreck from sinking entirely into the sea, for only the ship's stern seems to have survived the wreck. This portion is wedged at an angle between the cliff and the rocks, and each wave shakes and tosses the wreck alarmingly. It won't be long before the constant pounding of the waves dislodges the wreck and allows the hungry sea to claim the last of this once-fine ship.
The Jenivere isn't just missing her bow, she's also missing most of the lower deck. All that remains of the vessel to be searched are the upper decks, a portion of the captain's cabin, and on the mid-deck, the larder, a supply room, and the brig and galley. The Jenivere's only lifeboat is missing as well.
Amboy makes his way out to the ship and climbs onto the deck. Suddenly he says, "Do you hear that pounding? It sounds like someone is trapped below."
He pulls out his sword and pounds back on the deck three times.
Karathiel's hearing is unaffected by the harsh light that makes her squint; she nods to indicate that she, too, has heard it. "Like a sword being pounded into wood," she mutters quietly. "It might be a something, rather than a someone." She waits to see if there's any response to Amboy's knock.
Imhara strains her ears to hear what the others do, but she is unable to make out anything past the pounding of the waves. Still, if the others are so certain... "Well then, let's not keep whatever it is waiting. Shall we?" the witch suggests, gingerly climbing aboard the deck once she sees that Amboy's weight has not dislodged the wreck. She grips the rail along the side of the ship that rises higher, not inclined in the least to be tossed down onto the jagged rocks below by the incessant jolting. "Should we split into two groups? We may not have much time to search the ship before the sea claims it," Imhara says, looking for the ladder that leads to the lower decks.
St. John strains to hear the sound and then nods. "I hear it as well. Let's all head down.", he says as he heads down toward the sound.
Aboard the deck, the fate of the lifeboat becomes clear: it washed up between the hulk of the Jenivere and the cliff and was crushed by the action of the waves smashing the two sides together. Part of its bow still lolls about in the surf, attached to a protruding timber by a thick rope, as if someone had moored the boat to the wreck.
After Amboy knocks, the pounding from below ceases. Suddenly, a sea scorpion as large as crocodile clambers up the stairs from below deck, pincers snapping with menace.
"Where to, beautiful?" quips Sasha. The young woman rests her hands on the hilts of her paired rapiers. You became used to Sasha's flirtatious and enthusiastic mannerisms aboard the Jenivere, but you see fear in her green eyes.