Avner scowls at Zstelian.
"Fine. Let her stay here in this stinking village. See if I care!" he snarls as he stalks away from the fire.
The rest of the night passes without incident. In the morning, however, a new problem arises. Avner apparently managed to offend the villagers the previous night and they're refusing to complete their trade for the goods agreed to the previous day.
The night passes slowly for Kyson, his time spent in too much non-comprehension with the villagers, but Kyson tries to make the best of it. However, for the second morning, Kyson has plans.
"KHAZ! KHAZ! It's morning! It's morning and the sun is coming, Khaz! We should go talk to the villagers today! C'mon!!!" Kyson screams about the ships cabins looking for his fellow sunworshiper, knocking and yelling near Sekathral (or tripping over his past out body on the gangplank).
"C'mon Khas!" Kyson says excitedly.
Kyson can't wait for morning prayer as it gives him a chance to refocus his divine energies on teaching the villagers all the good parts of Sarenrae: like waking up early and praying. Who doesn't *love* waking up early!!!!
Kyson will pray quickly, communing with the servants of Sarenrae for gifts to do her divine work.
"C'mon Khaz! We can see what they are saying and answer their questions about Sarenrae!!! You carry the holy scones and I'll try to explain things!"
Kyson will drag Khas (and anyone else who's there) into doing some impromptu polite proselytizing using the divine scones to entice interest.
"...Oh yeah, Sarenrae is the best! She totally loves fire and stuff..."
"...Oh you're using a spear to hunt? Have you tried a scone and scimitar? Sarenrae loves the scimintar..."
Diplomacy to Smooth Over Abver's Silliness
"Good morning!" Khaz catches up with Kyson and gathers up the holy scones. "This is excellent, Kyson! Saranrae's power seems fairly strong in this area; you'd think there'd be temples dotting the coastline already. Of course, I'm not a priest or anything, but it seems warm against my back, like at home. Maybe they just don't know what they know, you know?"
She nods her head and smiles to the villagers, doing her best to look friendly.
Sekathral wakes up.
I'm dead. I'm ***king dead, and in hell, and an entire ***king regiment of giants are doing hammer practice inside my skull. It's Cayden's Curse all over again. OW! OW!
He gets up very slowly, half blind and very shaky on his feet, cheers up slightly when he sees Silvio in a similar state (only with an irate Liamae scolding him incessantly in a loud and piercing voice), then wanders into camp in search of food and reviving beverages. Once fortified, he attempts to pay a little attention to what's going on.
"Silly a*se", he comments, referring to Avner. "Right now, I'm still about three quarters undead, but I can get a few of the lads and lean on the bugger if you like - give him a choice between saying sorry and getting keelhauled. That might do it. Or I can go back to sleep. Up to you"
He sighs and shuts his eyes for a moment, then opens them again and looks around.
"Where's Lirith? She alright?"
Contrary to popular belief Silvio rises the next morning seemingly uneffected of the previous evening’s endeavours. If it wasn’t for the mud stained clothes there would be no visible evidence that even a drop of alchol was consummed. How the chelaxian’s hair could already be combed and lustrous is nothing short of magic.
Striding out in the crowd he notices that something seems amiss. ”This is a gloomy bunch, what has transpired here?” he asks. Silvio raises his eyebrow as he is told of Avner’s behavior. ”He is clearly behaving poorly and not in a way representatively for the two great ships Sea Wyrven and Blue Nixie. You should have come to Silvio and this affair would have been straightened out in no time”, he proclaims and strokes his chin. ”Perhaps there is still time to rectify this unfortune turn of evens. How about Silvio challenges the ignorant nobleman in a duel?”
Kyson's words seem to settle down the villagers, despite his trouble communicating with them, and soon the ships are back to being loaded.
Sometime during the process, Lirith emerges. Shielding her eyes from the bright sun, she smirks at her two drinking companions.
As you prepare to leave, Father Feres hangs back. Finally he announces that he plans to stay in Renkrue. "The good Master Tirc has inspired me," he says in a rush. "I shall stay here with the villagers and see if I can't ... can't ... can't win over converts!"
The ships set out soon and after four days, you find yourselves in the treacherous Pearl Current. Despite the swift-flowing ocean danger, Amella with much swearing guides you safely through, managing to stay on course.
Six days later, you pass another island, but despite hopes that you've reached the end of your journey, it proves to be just another red herring. Perilous 1,000-foot-high cliffs surround the jungle island of Ruja, that rumors say is the lair of some form of terrible monster.
Four days later, your weeks of good weather finally come to an end. Late at night, the wind whips into a frenzy and by dawn, the ships are caught in a full-fledged tempest. Massive waves rock the Sea Wyvern as rain lashes the deck. Amella quickly sends any of the non-crew below deck to wait out the storm.
After a miserable two days, the sea grows calmer again as skies clear. As exhausted sailors collapse and others come on deck -- Avner complaining about his long stint stuck in his cabin -- a search of the nearby water reveals the Sea Wyvern is now alone!
"Hey! Where did they go? Where's the other boat?" Kyson scans the horizon.
Sarenrae, it's me, Kyson. It's good to see your sun again. Do you see the other boat?
Silvio enters the deck and takes a casual walk along the railing before noticing that something is amiss. ”Where is the Blue Nixie?”, he asks and pulls up his spyglass to search for the vessel.
"Oh No! Surely she can't...she didn't..." Khaz scrambles up the main mast, using her slippers for purchase as she goes as high as she can go to see what she can see.
"That's storms for you. Either they've been blown off course or we have"
Sekathral tries to work out the ship's position.
There's no sign of the Sea Wyvern as far as you can see.
Sekathral thinks you're still on the right course, but the storm was certainly strong enough it could have blown the Blue Nixie elsewhere.
Kyson shakes his head. "Maybe I can ask Sarenrae tomorrow...for right now, we're on their own." Kyson's face sparks with curiosity. "Maybe they broke up?"
Kyson scans the water for debris.
"Not sure what I can do today. Tomorrow maybe," Kyson repeats worriedly.
Kyson looks at Sekathral.
"You're a pira..uhm, I mean sailor, right? Can you get us back on course...if they are okay, they will probably be going back on course too. Let's go that way. Make the saily things go...I can help," Kyson earnestly offers to do ship work for the first time since he set foot on the boat.
"Not me. I don't suppose our best... sailor might be able to see something from up here if I let him use the slippers, maybe if he borrowed that special seeing glass?" Khaz offers from the very top of the mast.
Kyson thinks real hard, thinking upon his training and readings about Sarenrae.
She sees all and knows all under the Sun. Heck, she's almost the sun herself! How can she help us?
Kyson seizes upon an idea...
"Hey! Hey! HEY EVERYBODY!!! I can find the ship! I just need two things: a piece of the Nixie. Or something that came from that boat! Does anyone have a piece of wood from the Nixie? Or a buoy? Or something from the ship?" Kyson looks around desperately.
"I'm also going to need one of them boat maps...you know, Sekathral, the one with the little monster in the corner that you need a sex-tent to use?" Kyson is again pretty sure that he doesn't understand anything about pirates.
Why is there sex-tents on pirate ships? Weird.
If and when a piece of the Nixie is found, Kyson will cast Track Ship (cleric 2) and use the nautical map to track where the Nixie is.
"Hey! Hey! HEY EVERYBODY!!! I can find the ship! I just need two things: a piece of the Nixie. Or something that came from that boat! Does anyone have a piece of wood from the Nixie? Or a buoy? Or something from the ship?" Kyson looks around desperately.
"I'm also going to need one of them boat maps...you know, Sekathral, the one with the little monster in the corner that you need a sex-tent to use?" Kyson is again pretty sure that he doesn't understand anything about pirates.
"We've got charts aplenty, mate, and the skipper'll have a sextant. You're on the wrong sort of ship for a sex-tent. I'll go and have a word with the Captain"
Sekathral lopes off to speak to Amella in an attempt to get Kyson what he needs.
"Perhaps you can use this lock of hair", Silvio suggests and produces a lock of black hair held together by a string of purple silk. "It is from the lovely lady Liamae, one of the precious things Silvio keeps to keep his love close, even if the waves would choose to separate us."
Unfortunately, Amella has nothing from the Nixie, and Kyson doesn't think the lock of hair will work for the spell he has in mind.
The captain shakes her head.
"Either they're already faming dead somewhere, in which case there's nothing we can bloody well do, or they're fine but tossed like a landlubber's lunch in a squall, in which case they need our help like Besmara needs a third tit. We sail on, and hopefully we'll meet 'em again at journey's end."
So saying, the captain orders the sails fully raised and the Sea Wyvern seems to leap forward, continuing its interrupted journey to the south.
Three days pass uneventfully but also without any sign of your fellow ship.
As the gray dawn breaks on the fourth morning after the storm, burning fitfully through the morning fog to light the sea, something seems strange about the waters below. They seem almost solid, as if the ocean had formed some strange sort of skin. The air seems dead as well, and the sails hang limp, heavy with moisture from the receding fog.
Finally, the mist begins to clear, and what is unveiled is not the gently rolling vista of the sea but a wet green field of weed. The swath of dirty green stretches flatly in all directions. To the stern it extends for perhaps a half mile, beyond which lie the open waters of the mocking sea. In all other directions the weed extends to the horizon.
Trapped within its vice are dozens of long-dead ships, their hulls protruding from the sargasso at odd angles, masts askew, sails hanging in tatters. One such ship lies mired only 600 feet to the port, and it seems to be in better shape than the others.
Perhaps most unnerving, however, is neither the sight nor smell of so much sun-baked seaweed. It is the unnatural silence, for the thick choking green has robbed the Sea Wyvern even of the strangely comforting sound of water lapping against he hull. It is not a healthy silence. It is the silence of the graveyard.
The swath of seaweed is a sargasso, a treacherous patch of vegetation often driven by storms only to collect in regions of the ocean that even the wind and currents seem to fear. A patch a mile across would be unusual, yet this swath stretches to the horizon.
Sailors call it Journey's End, and speak of it in hushed tones -- rumors of a living island that appears from the mists after storms. This living land is said to have a black soul that fuels the hunger of children rumored to live within its green embrace.
Journey's End is one of the sea's more terrible blights, and is said to be able to crush ships in its grip. Its children are awful creatures formed of the weed itself and are said to rise by night to slake their hunger upon any their green mother has caught in her grasp.
Sekathral stares out over the lifeless expanse, wincing at the noxious ammonial reek rising from the sargasso
"This ain't right. No frigging way would a sargasso get this big and still be natural"
Kyson is crushed no one has a piece of the ship, but knew it was a long shot to begin with anyway.
I tried, Sarenrae, I tried. If only I had known.
Miffed and annoyed, Kyson will nonetheless gouge out a large splinter from the Sea Wyvern and place it in his pouch, just in case.
* * *
Kyson looks out over the waves of green with quease in his eyes.
"What's all this? What's a sargasso? Can't we just sail through it?"
Kyson asks staring hopelessly at the other sunken ships.
"Say, what do you think got those other ships? It wasn't this stuff, was it? And if it was this stuff, what can we do to avoid a similar fate?"
Sekathral takes out his windcaller compass.
"If there's even a breath of wind, I can use this beauty to set us going, but if not, we'll need sweeps , and all that ***king weed'll have to be got rid of."
"Silvio will deal with these creatures if they come", Silvio assures the rest of the ship. "The weeds seems pretty immobile. Can we not outsail it?"
"Outsail it?" Amella asks incredulously, as she looks from Silvio to the weeds. "First we have to bloody well get out of it; it's got us snatched tighter than Calistria's grasp!"
"Oars aren't going to bloody do us any flaming good! We'd have more luck getting the ship into a shed than them into the water!"
Kyson looks around, still not clear on what the solution is.
"So, how can I help? Will praying help? I can do that."
"Oars aren't going to bloody do us any flaming good! We'd have more luck getting the ship into a shed than them into the water!"
"Yeah, you're right"
Sekathral stares down at the weed.
"I thought we might be able to at least clear it away from the side of the ship with grapples, but ***k that - we'd be here for weeks. I'm with you, mate", he says to Zstelian, grabbing his weapons then following on behind the ranger.
Silvio litterally beams with excitement of the proposition to go exploring. "Ah, confront the evil first hand. Silvio approves", he declares, checks his gear and strides off to fight the unknown.
Zstelian's assumption is correct, as careful tests show that the mat of seaweed does indeed easily bear your weight. Quick efforts to free the ship look to prove fruitless, however, as the vegetation seems to be deeper than a man is high.
"It may make a good mask (it's good for your skin, Kyson!)," Khazmia says, "but I don't think we're getting through it..."
The first part of the morning burned away in the effort, you decide to head for the closest ship, a couple hundred yards away. The trip there is odd, though the seaweed supports your weight, the springy surface feels as though it could give way at a moment's notice, and each step causes you to sink into briny puddles, strange currents swirling around your feet as if the fronds themselves were stirring.
As you approach, you see the wreck is strangled with weeds and vines, almost as if immense green claws hold the ship in their grasp. In many places, the caravel, a ship hauntingly similar to the Sea Wyvern, has been torn apart by the vegetation's rampant growth. A plate near the stern gives the vessel's name -- Rage.
"Boarders away", mutters Sekathral, half automatically, then clambers up the side
Silvio deftly scales the hull of the ship and scans the deck. "Not a bad ship. In its prime it was probably a ship worthy of Silvio Callgari Pazzi."
The upper deck is wreathed in slippery seaweed and swaths of what appears to be thick green mucus. Although almost everything has been smashed, the remains of three dozen burnt torches and an upturned cauldron that seems to have recently been filled with oil are still visible.
Smashed timbers frame a trapdoor leading down to a lower deck.
Kyson grunts and struggles to finally make it over the railing of the ship, falling onto the deck, vines, and mucus with joy (compared to dangling off the edge of the boat).
Righting himself, Kyson stands up and tries to flick off the larger clumps of gunk on his clothes.
"I did it. Now what?" Kyson asks, looking around
Perception
"Say this is a weird cauldron. Do you guys think evil witches were here creating their alchemy over a bubbling cauldron? What do you think, Khaz? Zstelian? Don't you guys just hate witches and all their...their...witchery? They're stupid," Kyson says, remembering the stories told about witches from his scribings.
The cauldron doesn't radiate any magic, nor does anything else in the area other than what you brought with you.
Sekathral loads his crossbow and prepares to back Silvio up.
"Here, shouldn't someone have a light on 'em? Khaz or Kyson - can't you improve on Silvio's natural lustre so he don't trip and break his bloody neck 'cause he can't see where he's going?"
Kyson, staring into the mucus and sargasso, snaps awake at Seka's prompting.
"Oh, you want me to give Silvio a piece of the sun to carry with him on down? Oh, I can do that!" Kyson eagerly rushes to cast Light on Silvio's rapier before he goes down.
"There, Silvio! Now you can shine like Sarenrae's elbow!"
Oops. Did I just insult Sarenrae? Her elbow? What was I thinking?!
Kyson excuses himself and goes to the back of the party to wait his turn to follow Silvio.
"Here, shouldn't someone have a light on 'em? Khaz or Kyson - can't you improve on Silvio's natural lustre so he don't trip and break his bloody neck 'cause he can't see where he's going?"
”Haha, how you jest! Knowing full well that it is impossible for Silvio to trip, unless it was part of some clever rouse to put an unsuspecting enemy at rest!” Silvio laughs and give Sekathral a friendly slap on the back.
"Oh, you want me to give Silvio a piece of the sun to carry with him on down? Oh, I can do that!" Kyson eagerly rushes to cast Light on Silvio's rapier before he goes down.
”Thank you, my friend. As always your contributions are valued and appreciated”, the chelaxian says and wonders why he has a sudden urge to explain the differences between a rapier and an Aldori dueling sword. Dismissing the notion he takes a few purposeful steps and decend down the trapdoor.
Silvio descends through the ruined timber to find the hold filled with more seaweeds.
On the far side of the boat lies the remains of a door to what was likely the captain's cabin. Carefully making his way there, Silvio looks in and sees a large hole in the floor, through which the green of the sargasso can be seen.
You can see a tattered journal on the edge of a table on the far side of the 20-foot room.
Kyson descends after Sekathral, looking behind him to make Khaz is coming.
"What's happening down here?"