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Round 6
Bazsil finally decided on a course of action, moving to the sailor, and lending what aid he can to ease his pain.
Heal
"We are men of action! Lying around does not become us!"
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Elon hears the call by Gratum and makes for the hold. As he runs down the stairs, he is amazed that the lightning could do so much damage to the vessel. I should look into this some more...
He rounds the corner at the bottom and rushes past Gratum, he finds that the young boy is badly singed by the nearby flames. "Handle the flames, dwarf brother, and I will tend to his wounds!" he bellows to Gratum and then to Ciaran. "Find me some cloth or bandages to stymie his wounds, Mean One!"
"I think we've got the fires out!" Gado exclaims, excited like he has just won some contest he didn't expect to win. He reaches out to high five his elemental pet, but the watery creature just stares at him.
Gritting his teeth, Ciaran tears some nearby cloth into bandages and padding for Elon to use.
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Wrigley sees the crew scuttling across the deck, tending to the damaged hull and rescuing the crew whilst trying to battle the sudden fires. Above, he can easily see the crew struggling against the great gales and torrents of wind, but fighting with all their might to keep the sails harnessing the storm and in doing so, powering the ship's bow to steadily crash through the rising swells which threaten to capsize them at all times. As the world continues it decent into chaos around him, the halfling's mind searches for the proper shanty to held guide the crew's hands and calm their minds.
At least the others were pulled back aboard and a shark is no longer slapping around on the deck... he thinks to himself. Just as the words cross his mind, the sails above his head billow in the wind and release a resounding as the fabric snaps taut once more. The sound seems to stir Wrigley into action, and he at once begins to play and call the shanty aloud.
"Come all you young sailormen, listen to me
I'll sing you a song of the fish in the sea,
and it's..."
"Up jumps the eel with his slippery tail,
Climbs up aloft and reefs the topsail,
and it's..."
"Then up jumps the with his nine rows of teeth
Saying, 'You eat the dough boys, and I'll eat the beef!'
and it's..."
Gritting his teeth, Ciaran tears some nearby cloth into bandages and padding for Elon to use.
Bazsil expertly tends to the electrocuted Slimefish - though he gets the distinct impression from Slimefish's months-unwashed hands that his stomach will not thank him for his kindness. Elon hurries belowdecks to help Ciarán out with their interpreter, only to find that the ship's bodyguard has already soothed Master Donal's burns and done a surprisingly good job of the bandages.
Wrigley leads the crew in song, and the voices of the men threaten to drown out even the sound of the storm outside.
For a while, the seas seem to calm somewhat. The wind does not whip the sails so maliciously, and the undulations of the sea while still large by any measure feel almost relaxing compared to only moments ago. Wary of having any more crew members washed overboard, Barbarosa orders everyone who wishes to stay above decks to be tied off with a rope. Those above are surprised (or perhaps not) to find ropes already tied to masts and other sturdy structures with proper buckles on them for strapping oneself in. .
After short while of calmer seas, Barbarosa's eyes widen as he inspects the hand signals from Nelenquessir atop the crow's nest. "Well done, men! Now comes the hard part. Hold onto something! It looks like we're going dow...." Before the captain can finish his sentence or the command to enter underwater mode that no doubt would have followed, the Audacious pitches forwards unexpectedly and takes a nose dive.
The island-sized maelstrom sucks The Audacious into the depths of the ocean, the suddenness shocks even the seasoned captain, who eventually makes the motion to convert to underwater mode. Too late, however, as decks on all levels fill almost instantly with water. The masts strain to pull inwards and the canopy refuses to raise.
Everyone inside The Audacious and above is battered as water rushes in and over them suddenly. Everyone is forced to steal a breath quickly before the last of the air bubbles escape from the forcibly submerged ship.
Location: All decks.
Hazard: You are all effectively holding your breath.
Tasks:
- Get the conversion going (use magic device, knowledge (arcana), spellcraft)
- Fix the masts (profession (sailor), craft (boats))
- Advise Barbarosa on sailing undersea (knowledge (nature), survival)
- Pull stuff, loosen controls (str check, dex check)
- Tend to battered/drowned sailors (swim, heal)
Buff ideas: Water breathing!
Thing™: Going Under!
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Thing™: Savage Storm - DEFEATED
Thing™: Man Overboard -DEFEATED
Thing™: Lightning Strike-DEFEATED
Welp. That'll take care of the fires!
Gado's panic, elation, stupidity, and subsequent panic again has him exhausted, his emotions roiling about like the storm around them. Then the floods came.
"What the he...." his words are literally drown out by the rushing water and his reaction to take a deep breath before he is covered in the water. Once again, he is grateful for his webbed fingers and hands, which allow him to move around quite easily in the ship turned fishbowl.
The touch of the sea spell does not, however, help him to breath underwater. He regrets instantly not memorizing the spell which would have allowed him to do so.
The water elemental he summoned feels right at home, however, and so he tries to use that to his advantage. Maybe if they can finish the underwater conversion the water can be pumped out before they all drown.
He surveys the hold he is in, looking for clues to finish the conversion of the ship.
He remembers Mtumbwi yelling at Harlon back when seas were calmer and the sun was shining. Something about No you can't reduce that width by half, I don't care what your damned numbers say! You've never created a ship that can sail underwater! Get your damned notepad outta my face before I shove my foot up your
Yea, that last part wasn't as important. What was important was the dimension Mtumbwi was referring to. It was abnormally thick because it needed to withstand the force of the mast dropping through the decks to withdraw properly. And wouldn't you know, there were glowing runes on the ceiling of the hold that hadn't released, because the command had never been given. Gado swims over, snapping the magical restraints of the runes, and opening the way for the mast to drop into place properly.
Round 7
Bazsil puts away Lucy after the shark is dispatched, wondering how many things can go wrong in such a short period of time. Surely, at this rate, one of the many horrific obstacles will take the boat down soon. It was just a matter of hanging on...until who know what happens?
Bazsil swims to those that need aid, trying to help.
Swim
Heal
"Blib doolp oolp. Blibdoolpoolp!"
Gado thinks he's able to figure out a little of the ship's controls, and how he might get them to convert the ship despite the fact that it's below water.
Gavin seems to have had the breath knocked out of him just before the water rushed in, but Bazsil isn't able to figure out a way to help the man just yet.
Thing™: Going Under!
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Thing™: Savage Storm - DEFEATED
Thing™: Man Overboard -DEFEATED
Thing™: Lightning Strike-DEFEATED
"EEEeeeaaaarrrooooowwwwaa wwaaAWWAaeeee ach ach eeeoooOOOOoaaaAAA!"
Speaking underwater is normally not easy, but thankfully Gado is speaking in Aquan. With sound traveling far better in the liquid medium, he is able to use throat sounds and clicks without opening his mouth.
The living water is nearly invisible in its home element, but a faint, whitish transluscent outline can be seen flowing towards one of the drowning men. The man is quickly whisked in the water towards Elon.
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Without waisting a second, the halfling's fingers begin to pluck at the strings of his lute drawing up the first shanty that came to mind. The tone was sorrowful and slow, but he did not care at that moment, he only wanted to help keep their minds from the growing dangers about them.
He voice rang out, calling the words of the song for the crew to hear, but was wholly occupied with the shanty and so did not notice the treacherous pitch of the ship as it began to slip beneath the waves.
"Oh, I thought I heard the old man say
Leave her, Johnny, leave her
It's a long, hard pull to the next pay day
And it's time for us to... "
Just then a torrent rushes over the bow and Wrigley barely manages to take a fleeting gulp of air before his body is submerged beneath the foaming swell. Luckily he is tied to the mast at that moment, and his body pulls against the tether and swings, rag-like in the jetting water but does not get sucked further into the black, crushing depths. His hands are able to grip his fine instrument, but he can no longer open his mouth to continue his song, nor could the rest of the crew hear him anyway, struggling at this moment to survive.
In his panic he looks through the churning, frothy gloom and sees the ghostly silhouettes of submerged men, rigging, and sails backlight by the subdued flashes of lighting above the surface. Fearing for the lives of the crew, he quickly looks to and fro, trying see through rushing water and assess how to convert the ship in order for them all to survive under the waves.
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"Blib doolp oolp. Blibdoolpoolp!"
As water rushes over Ciaran's head, he feels a sudden flush of panic. And irritation. There are some days it seems like the world is run by an evil maniac.
A thin trickle of bubbles leaks from George's mouth at his feet. Ciaran feels a sudden stab of horror - the boy, unconscious when the water rushed in, hadn't held his breath!
Ciaran picks up the boy, throws him over his bare shoulder, and pushes off from the wall, swimming strongly towards his room.
Once there, he finds his handy haversack floating by the ceiling, grabs it, and thinks as hard as he can that what he needs to retrieve now is everything. Then he turns the bag upside down, and yanks everything inside out - leaving an upside-down, extradimensional space full of air.
He jams George's head into a bag and squeezes the boy's abdomen, ejecting water from his lungs.
After a moment, he feels him twist, cough, and then writhe in panic, so he holds him steady until George's disorientation and fear subsides.
Ciaran pulls the bag off George's head, refils his own lungs with air, and returns the bag to George, before swimming out again to help with the ship.
While most of the surrounding crew think that Gado is speaking like a whale, the water elemental immediately figures out what he is saying and rushes off to save a sailor. This time, it is One-Footed Dave, the chef. The water elemental instinctively figures out which areas of its domain are filled with air and pulls Dave up to an air bubble trapped within a cabinet so the cook can get a few breaths.
Wrigley doesn't have Gado's keen understanding of how all things magical work, so he is forced to try to activate things blindly. Gripping a green gem atop a lever, he manages to hold it in just the right way and the lever slides forwards slightly. There is a groan behind him, but the canopy still will not come over the ship. Not yet.
Ciarán performs an amazing feat of improvisation and saves Felonious George from drowning.
Thing™: Going Under!
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Thing™: Savage Storm - DEFEATED
Thing™: Man Overboard -DEFEATED
Thing™: Lightning Strike-DEFEATED
"Thank you", George mouths amidst a flurry of bubbles when Ciarán saves him. With all the floating belongings around, the boy decides to take this opportunity to look for the captain's sextant. Three weeks and I still haven't found that damn thing! At least Nelenquessir told me what they looked like.
As the water rushes into the hold, Elon turns to Barley and shrugs. "So, I guess this is hap... *glub glub*" he says as he grabs for the rope around Barley's thick neck before the yak panicks and tries to retreat to his "safe spot" near the operating table.
The yak finds an air bubble under the stairs in the dining room and proceeds to sit comfortably there, contemplating a nap.
Elon, dragged throughout the ship, is happy that Barley has found solace and swims to the Captain to see if anything is needed.
As he frog paddles through the water, he grabs on to the railing and pops his head over, grinning wildly at the Captain and giving him the thumbs up.
Gratum's eyes bulge. The rivers under the Five Kings Mountains could get deep, but they were never good for a swimming lesson. This being the first time in his life the dwarf has been in over his head [in water] he has a moment of panic. Wondering for a second if he had been pulled out of the hold, and off into the waves, before recognizing that he was still below and sorely in need of some fresh air.
Then he remembers his dinner with the boat wright, Mtumbwi. Gratum had asked about all the mechanisms that made the ship work, and Mtumbwi had told him much about it from stem to stern. About the bubble that comes out above decks to make space for the air to breathe.
There's a backup switch in the anchor room!
"Gado, Aeslin, someone! I know what to do to get the bubble up, I just can't move! There's a backup switch in the anchor room."
A look of grim determination comes over Mtumbwi's face as the ships heads for the bottom. He stands as steady as a rock as the water begins to creep up his body. Taking in one large gulp of air, the water overtakes him.
I cannot believe that you did this to me. You were here when I built this ship. There was not a timber that I did not call upon your blessing. Each board, lightning scorched, a tribute to you. Each line dipped in your salty realm, prayed upon. Why now, when we are so close? Why do you need her? Us? My finest tribute to you, and you would snatch her from me.
These specialists. They look to me as a servant of you. As a reflection of you. What must they think seeing you turn from me in our hour of need as I come to you.
You can't have her. You can take me. But you cannot take her.
Mtumbwi looks to Harlan, they make eye contact and both know how dire their situation is. Both men know that the ship must survive if they are to survive. If any of them are to survive.
Springing into action, Mtumbwi knows that if he can fix the mast, they have a chance. Not much of a chance, but a chance nonetheless.
He makes his way over and begins to pound on the *lutchet.
*luchet - fitting on ship's deck to allow mast to pivot to pass under bridges.
Platonius begins to float up to the surface as he scrambles to lash out with his hands and feet for anything to grab on to, but he comes up empty. This is how it will end... he muses. With a bunch of bloody idiots.
Bazsil continues to do what he's doing, and wonders what he should do next.
Boobs. I like boobs.
Bazsil continues to do what he's doing, and wonders what he should do next.
Boobs. I like boobs.
Ciaran breaststrokes back out to the main room. Gratum gestures, and seems to be trying to talk to someone, but he can't understand what the dwarf is saying.
Instead, Ciaran floats upside down by the mast. He plants his feet against the ceiling, encircles the mast, and tries to pull it down into position using raw strength.
A thin trickle of bubbles escapes his lips as he struggles.
Elon manages to help the Colonel out of a tight fix (he was wedged in a half-closed door with too much water pressure pushing against him), but receives not even a nod of thanks from the grumpy master-at-arms.
Gratum is unable to bring his considerable engineering talent to bear. Perhaps being submerged is distracting him.
Mtumbwi knows just what to do, however, and in no time the masts are beginning to wind down as they should. They will still need some more encouragement however.
Ciarán gives an almighty yank and part of the canopy pulls up also. He figures two more good tugs like that would get it up all the way - or maybe someone could untangle the winch that he spots nearby .
Thing™: Going Under!
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Thing™: Savage Storm - DEFEATED
Thing™: Man Overboard -DEFEATED
Thing™: Lightning Strike-DEFEATED
As The Audacious plummets deeper into the ocean, Barbarosa holds fast to the wheel. The rushing sea causes his long hair and beard to flail madly about his face, lending him the aspect of some kind of bushy sea anemone. Amazingly, the man's hat is still on and his grin has returned.
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Wrigley feels the tightly wound coil around his waist pull harshly as the tether reaches the end of its length, and the halfling bobs in the rushing current of water. Around him the temperature of water decreases sharply and becomes a brilliant chill against his skin as the ship continues to roll, diving further beneath the waves toward the crushing depths. With great struggle against the frothing current, he manages to sling the strap of the lute over his shoulder, the pauses to grip the rope tying him to the foremast with both hands. He would have breathed a sigh of relief that the rope was keeping him from getting swept away but for his present situation.
A trickle of bubbles slips from between his lips as does a low-pitch humming that is audible only to himself in the roar of water jetting by the ship and against the moan of the hull. One hand plugs his nose as he equalizes the pressure between his ears, but continues to hum to steady himself and keep the sea shanty going.
"Mm, lub glug lug glug lub lug lub gug glug
Glugg lug, Gluggg, luggg lug!
Lub glugug ug glugug lug glug glub ug.
Lub lu'g glub lug ug ug luggg lub."
Gado smirks as the ship shudders, sensing that it is almost ready to snap shut like a clamshell. He swims to the side, away from where the mast will collapse down to keep himself from getting crushed when it does.
The swirling of the ship underwater has him competely disoriented, but the increasing pressure on his ears tells him unmistakably that they are getting deeper.
With his lips closed, he speaks in the back of his throat, hoping that the awkward method still translates through the message spell.
"Captain, the depths and currents under the sea work much like the winds of the sky. There are layers of distinct temperature differences that act completely different from each other. The currents and flows could be completely different between each thermal layer. The further down we get from the surface, the less the turbulence of the waters will affect us!"
Meanwhile, the intrepid water elemental continues to swim around collecting the incapacitated sailors and bringing them to safety.
Ciaran - constrained by the physics of trying to drag a colossal beam of wood under water - is unable to attract the attention of either Gratum or the water elemental to the tangled winch nearby.
He continues to strain against the ceiling.
Looking at the descending masts, Mtumbwi tries to do some mental math to figure out if the masts are descending quick enough. As he reaches his tenth digit, he ends his arithmetic as taking off his shoe underwater would be a poor choice.
That licksplttle Harlan would babble on about some number or such, but I know it is not fast enough. If I *roach the sail I can be done.
*roach - curved cut edge of a sail to prevent chafing
Drawing his dagger, stabs into the edge of the sail and slices down forming an edge.
As the mast and sail collapse, he turns towards Barbarosa.
Drink Deep, think fast man. What in the hells is that man doing? At least he is grinning as he tries to kill us all.
It is clear that his next destination will the the captain and getting this ship sailing correctly.
Thing™: Going Under! - DEFEATED
Gado's elemental proves its worth yet again, whisking someone - Gado couldn't quite see who - away to safety. At the lore master's urging, Barbarosa somehow steers into the currents as the temperature of the water changes. Ciarán manages to dislodge something - though wether the *pop* was a gear or his shoulder, the adrenaline coursing through his system won't let him find out for a while yet.
Mtumbwi just about has the mast down, when Wriggly figures out how to get the canopy up. As the mast zips downwards, the top of the ship almost clips Nelenquessir (who is still clinging on for dear life in the crow's nest), but - whether through luck or the crazed shipwright's design - everything slides into place without incident. Immediately, magical pumps work to bring air into the now enclosed vessel while simultaneously sucking the water away. In mere seconds, everyone can breathe again.
The only one outside of the canopy is Barbarosa, who grins even wider as a protective air bubble envelopes him.
"..." comes a message to Mtumbwi and Gado.
"You mean I have to whisper at our moment of... and... ye gods this is difficult. Tell the lads - loudly - well f*@%-ing done! Then immediately tell them to man those winches, we're gonna need some extra oomph to get out of this thing when we reach the bottom."
The bottom of the maelstrom was a long time in coming, and The Audacious must have plummeted more than a mile by the time the fall is finally arrested. Scrambling back to to their posts after falling over, the crew wind madly on the winches and The Audacious is propelled forwards and out of the Maelstrom.
As the ship once more floats on the surface of the sea, the canopy recedes. An immense wall of water swirls frantically behind them, but the sea they sail upon is becalmed. Not a breath of wind blows here, and the sea is so tranquil the mighty Audacious is reflected upon its surface. At a call from Barbarosa, the crew man the oars and begin to row the ship away from the roiling wall of water.
Ciaran crashes to the deck as the mast comes loose and the water suddenly starts draining away. He lies there for a moment, his eyes shut, and then sighs and scowls.
"Nothing on the f+~+ing voyage works properly."
He gets to his feet, rolls his neck and shoulders, and goes to rescue his water-logged possessions (and take back whatever George has appropriated). And find a new shirt.
Later...
Ciaran surveys the serene water. He spits meditatively into the ocean.
As the water recedes, and The Audacious skims underwater, Mtumbwi grins from ear to ear. This is what a cat must look like locked in a room with and endless supply of chubby rats, and cool milk to lap.
He glances ate the specialists. For a bunch of men and women not accustomed to the life at sea they did a great job.
Harlan approaches and opens his mouth.
Mtumbwi glares at the man.
"Though she did descend at an oblique angle, you built a fine ship here. The finest I have ever seen. I would love to know how you do what you do, how you made this. I promise to learn all you wish to teach me. To study hard and work harder."
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"No numbers."
The water washes over the side and Elon takes in the new sights and sounds with eager eyes and ears. He hears some misinformation (only slightly off) from the Mean One and the Nude One.
I could correct them, but I'll let them have their fun... he thinks as he smiles.
"This is already the most fun I've had in nearly two months!" he proclaims loudly, but not really towards anyone.
A sopping wet halfling rises up from the deck, looking like what might wash ashore if a dire rat feel overboard.
He glares around at everyone before going back down to Hammock City.
Barley comes out on to the deck, happy to see that there is no nasty-tasting water on the deck anymore and he lays in the bright sun. The sun glistens off of his pelt as the yak decides that this is where he will spend his day: directly in front of the staircase to the captain's wheel. It does get the best sunlight after all.
"Mooooo." he says happily.
Tired, soggy, and bleary eyed; Gratum returns to his area in the workshop. He withdraws a small trinket from a drawer. It's the little statuette he was working on before entering the storm. He takes it to the workbench, and sets it down. Pulls out two little glass jewels and affixes them to it as eyes.
"Thank you Torag, and thank... that no good sea god..., well he tested us something good, if you have a chance thank him for not killing us too." Looking at his handiwork he adds, " And now, this piece is done.
With that, Gratum carries the statuette up above decks, and walks over to the edge of the deck. Tossing the little statue over. Then, recognizing he's on a floating pile of trees, he goes green in the face once more and sends a little more over the side... just another sacrifice to the god of the seas...
Gado pats his soggy body, breathing hard when the ship pumps the water out after the conversion finally takes place. The water elemental is gone, long gone before he could thank it properly for its help.
He slowly crawls up to the top deck and gazes with wonder at the wall of wind and rain and pure fury of the storm, and with equal wonder at the calm water below the ship.
"Ye gods and little fishes. I've done it. I've finally gotten away from that beautifully evil Mistress Lanvi." Gado continues to stare at the never ending storm wall.
"She can never touch me again." he says with finality.
well... not the bad touch. NO! Not the good touch either. Its never as good as I think it should be... Crazy Callistrian priestesses...
With a mixture of wonder, healthy curiosity, and fear, he turns to look at the isle of dread in the distance.
His new home.
At least for now.
"Ye gods and little fishes. I've done it."
"We gods and b$~+$es, anyone want a peanut?" Bazsil smiles and rhyme, listening to Gado's reflections of survival. He casts about for the Rod of Splendor, insisting that a pavilion be raised so that they might celebrate properly.
"Someone break out the Steelkeg! Let's get a party started!"
Bazsil does not seem surprised that he survived...only that others did. He was sure some where going to be lost.
Ciaran clouts Gado between the shoulder blades.
"I'm surprised to see you up here," he tells the lorekeeper. To the others, he says, "Did you see Gado dive in after Gavin like a six-monther into a Callistrian boarding house? He must have Cayden's own balls, too. I'm surprised he can walk in a straight line."
"I knew we were hammock city mates for a reason!" Elon cheers as he run below and drags up a keg with a giant snake embossed on the lid. "I heard this is a rare keg of Snakebite that escaped the destruction of the Trunau brewery. Bet my cousins are a bit peeved at that." Elon says with a smile as he grabs the wooden mallet and the tap, whacking it into place.
"Beers up!" he yells as frothy mugs are passed around.
"None for you, Cap! Yer driving!" he says with a wry grin.
Luckily, it was only a few hours past the wall of water marking the edge of the inner core of the Eye of Abendego that the wind picked up.
Over the past two days, Ciarán, Mtumbwi and Elon have directed The Audacious unerringly straight and away from the wall of water behind them. During the two nights that have gone by, even Elon had trouble navigating by the stars. They were bright enough - perhaps brighter than they had ever seen - but the stars were not the stars one would expect to see in the region. After two days, Gado confirms it, The Audacious no longer sails off the western coast of the Shackles and the Mwangi Expanse.
Where it sails, none can tell.
* * *
cries Nelenquissir from the crows nest.
Everyone, even Ploppy Hardhammer, ascends to the main deck to catch a glimpse. It is perhaps ten minutes after the elf spotted it that everyone else sees it also. A small island hoves into view on the northern western horizon. It is followed shortly by three more islands flanking it. Then, hoving into vew behind it all is the enormous Isle of Dread. Its mountainous terrain is coated in dense jungle. More than one of the mountain peaks belch smoke ominously into the sky.
As The Audacious sails ever closer, the wind changes and fills the air with high pitched shrieking from the life-filled islands - monkey screams and bird calls most like.
"There she is!" having ordered the sails to be doused, Barbarosa leaves the wheel for a moment to stand on the fore deck with the rest of the crew, "We are here. The Isle of Dread! Ha!"
The ship drifts a while toward the group of islands while everyone takes in the view.
"Well," Captain Barbarosa says at last, turning to the eight specialists, "I got you here, next bit is yours. We've got the village of Dawa, which was being attacked by cannibals last I was here, and the village of Tanaroa, which was hospitable enough. We've also got any number of unexplored islands, or alternative spots to pull ashore. Up to you how you wish to proceed. Discuss it amongst yourselves, I'm taking a break!"
The captain heads for his quarters, "Weigh anchor!" he yells just before ducking through his door. It is then that the crew wrack their brains for the last time they remember the captain actually going to sleep, "Oh, and George, we really need to know where we are now, so if you haven't found that sextant by the time I wake - you'll be taking the plank."
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The halfling stands on the deck of The Audacious watching the darkened brown and green smudge on the north-eastern horizon gradually take the shape of a cluster of islands. As the masses of land continue to rise up on the horizon, Wrigley felt a flutter in his chest as the long awaited islands upon which he would soon build his glory and renown, and hopefully, wealth, at last made their presence known. He shuddered a bit to think of the name everyone had so callously, and menacingly, referenced to, the Isle of Dread, but the halfling could not bring himself to call it that now, not in this moment when the blot of land was beginning to loom upon the horizon and shadow his thoughts.
"Are we for setting out for the villages, or setting out on our own path?" the halfling asks the other specialists. He was not sure when it had happened, but his lute was again in hand and his fingers were plucking away at the strings in a slow a deliberate fashion, releasing an almost imperceptible melody into the salty sea air. "My contribution is speech and, hopefully, being a calming voice with the natives."
He wondered in that moment how his use of their dialog would go after practicing it so long as sea.
"But I would not be opposed to setting ashore somewhere private first, and trying to get a lay of the land, as it were, before we make our presence known to the locals."
If they don't already know we are here, he thinks to himself but does not add the final thought aloud.
Gado spends the calm days mostly lounging about on outside, on the top decks, enjoying the weather and taking great confidence in the wall of storm behind them that represents both a physical and metephorical wall which separates him from his troubles back in Magnimar. As the island comes close, he gathers with the others to discuss where they think they should go first.
"My vote would be for Tanaroa. Let us put ashore there, and see if we can't get a feel for the land and her inhabitants, as well as a good local meal instead of this fish slop. I for one, would like to test out my command of this new language with the locals.
"Then I say we take up Baszil's suggestion and pitch our tent outside of town, and celebrate the fact that we are alive!"
Gado's attitude is bubbly, and optimistic. It seems shrugging off his worries has done wonders for his outlook on this dangerous mission.