Right, I said as my mind whirled. I looked at all of us who were planning on the expedition. None of us looked very hale, though I daresay they looked better than me. I felt as if a stiff breeze -- or any real exertion -- would topple me to the deck again.
How long until your gifts return? We may better serve our comrades by resting here for a short while to recover from our wounds and replenish magics rather than set out immediately. Though it pains me to leave them in those monsters' clutches for even a minute longer.
"It dawns on me, Captain, that we have forgotten some of the resources at our disposal," I offer after retrieving a scroll and several potion bottles from below decks.
"I believe Master Seaborn said one of these bottles was a curative, while another was a potion of blur. Petty Officer Grok provided us with another curative potion, in addition to the slightly more powerful healing scroll I was able to purchase from her," I continue, placing the scroll of cure moderate wounds on the pile. "And as I mentioned, I still have one casting available to me, as well."
"Is anyone able to take another stab at determining the nature of this bottle that Plugg was carrying?"
Now that the storm has passed, the beasts should be easier to deal with, and if we can rescue Sandara and Crimson before anything further may befall them..."
Chum takes the unknown potion and tries to determine its nature once again.
"We dare not wait another day, Captain. We need to conserve our resources, but we need to move today. Even if all we do is gather information, we must proceed."
"I concur, Captain," Eleuterio says, nodding to Evril and Chum. "The longer we let them languish with the grindylows, the longer their odds become. Best to at least get started on tracking them, else we find them needing hooks and peg-legs." His faces darkens in thought.
"At best, hooks and peg-legs."
I must say, I felt relieved at their eagerness to set out. And their ideas to use what resources we had available set me to thinking as well.
Agreed. We must leave as soon as we can. Though it occurs to me that Crimson had stashed away a number of treasures as well. I daresay he would be agreeable to our looting his stores in our time of need and for the good of his rescue. Let's locate that while we ascertain the value of Plugg's items.
I paused, and remembered something else. I fished out a small flask and set it before Chum. Harrigan's potion, the reward for the reefclaws. Mayhap we inspect it before putting it to our lips.
"My talent at identifying these has been somewhat lacking..."
But he takes the potion and examines it, also.
The potion appears to be more powerful than Chum's magic can sort out.
Getting into Crimson's duffle is possible, but will require breaking in or picking what looks to be a pretty well-made lock.
"I have a set of lock-smithing tools that should help with that lock, Captain. Failing that, we have an Owlbear."
With a few quick motions, Evril persuades the lock's tumblers to open for him, revealing the contents of Crimson's duffle. These include two potions, a wand, a scroll, two flasks of alchemist's fire, two bottles of wine, a couple of mirrors, a tanglefoot bag and some coinage in a leather purse.
"A better healing draught, this one, if I don't miss my guess. This one would benefit a warrior, but if I understand the magic correctly, it won't last long - you would want it immediately before the fight; it should speed up your attacks. That one eludes me, I'm afraid."
"I think the fire bottles and the bag of glue could be of use, too."
I considered Chum's words and regarded the potion. Let's heal ourselves up and be off. Gather those goods up, and we'll maybe figure out what they do on the way. It's strange how frequently a mysterious or innocuous little object will come to great use later on in the tales. By the by, I do recall that scroll was a spell for a fiery ray of some sort. Chum had figured that out some days ago.
Down the hatch, I offered as I drank the potion.
Hoping that I won't have to rely on the more powerful scroll later, I use my last casting on myself.
"Ledo punctis meum replebo."
I felt much better. Not completely whole, but a vast improvement from my previous state. And with Evril also on the mend, I believed it time to set out.
I pointed towards the little nob of rock. We should make for that hill. We need fresh water, and the good Conchobar says the grindylows prefer it as well. We'll see if there's a stream, and follow it to our companions. Both tasks will be accomplished, and we'll be back on course in no time.
I nodded to each of those who volunteered to come, then glanced at the rest of the crew, to see if anyone else might come. Conchobar, you seem versed in the lore of these creatures, and you have a way of lifting our spirits in battle. Might you join us?
Mr. Owlbear, I believe you could lend us assistance inthis endeavor. And we'll need to haul the water back to the ship. I wonder if our prisoners would like a chance to get back in our good graces? I cast a glance in Evril's direction when I said that last part, for I knew the carpenter harbored an intense dislike for the two in our brig. Granted, I wasn't that fond of them, either.
Muttering, "We need something to hold the water. The water itself Gozreh provides."
It takes a great deal for me to contain my initial reaction to this new lunacy, but I manage it.
"I disagreed with your decision to allow them to live, Captain, but it was your order that they be kept prisoner, and so be it. I will not stand by and watch a person made into a slave, however briefly, even one as cruel-hearted as Syl.
They are either prisoners and remain in the hold, or they are crew, and if they are crew, it follows then that I should take their place in the brig, as I cannot guarantee their continued health otherwise."
Owlbear looks slightly confused, but pleased that Artevious seems to be calling on him for assistance. "I will help!" he says brightly.
Conchobhar, on the other hand, does not seem nearly as sanguine about the prospect of leaving the ship to explore an unknown island - but with a rather significant glance at Rosie, puffs up his chest. "As if any such expedition would succeed in my absence," he says. "And this way, I can be certain the inevitable tales do not overlook my heroism."
I couldn't disguise my wince when Mr. Cooper reacted the way he did. I wasn't suggesting anything close to slavery, sir. As I had already promised that they would be seen safely off this ship to whatever fates they may later encounter, our current setback has unfortunately placed us all in the same situation. Former rivals and enemies forced by circumstances to ally -- however temporarily -- to overcome mutual adversity is quite common in these waters. Why, it has happened to my father on no fewer than four occasions. So I see no reason to not at least give them the option of lending a hand, rather than remain idle in the brig. Furthermore, if they agreed, they should remain here, on the ship, under the watchful eyes of Rosie and Fishguts and our other mates as they work on repairing the ship. Should night fall, they would be instructed to return to the brig so as to not make mischief. I hardly think that they would desire to sabotage our repair efforts, as it appears that the Man's Promise is the only way to more populated areas.
While I waited for Evril's comments on my reasoning, I smiled and clapped my hands on Owlbears' and Conchobar's shoulders. Indeed! Heroism will be the order of the day for us all, my friends.
While the others discuss plans, Chum observed them knowing he may have the last available healing for the day and knowing he may need it most. But he tries to evaluate the others' health without being obvious about it so that he uses the gift of the Wind and Wave in the wisest fashion.
While I waited for Evril's comments on my reasoning...
I nod, "Aye, Captain."
Without further commentary, I begin making preparations for our rescue mission, making sure Sandara's holy symbol was secured safely around my neck with a bit of twine.
Chum is quiet, torn by the realization that, bad as his wounds are, the warrior Reis was nearly as bad off and much more useful in a fight. Should I stay on the boat? Use the gift to aid Eleuterio?
The indecision is clear on his face.
Chum applies his healing charm to Eleuterio.
"Don't spend it all in one place, warrior."
Eleuterio nods in thanks to Chum. "I'll do my best to honor that request, Master Seaborn. Now let's go rescue our crew."
The surviving members of Plugg's crew agree, somewhat reluctantly, to aid in the repairs to the Promise, and Rosie agrees with somewhat greater enthusiasm to watch them. The four of you and your two assistants launch the cutter and set sail for the nearby island.
The island itself is roughly 7 miles across its length, and is basically fish-shaped, as though it were diving toward the southwest. The western side of the island is sharp-edged cliffs, meaning that only the eastern side is suitable for making landfall. At the northern tip, where the fish's "tail" would be, the tall spike of rock you saw before looms over the entire island. The coast near it holds the ruins of an ancient, long-abandoned village; south of the rock, the inner curve of the island's "belly" is a broad, sandy beach that looks quite easy to land at and appears entirely deserted.
Chum keeps an eye out for threats and a best landing point. I dare not get into any fights, but I can deliver these five safely to shore.
"Village or beach. Who knows what awaits in the village? Or the beach, for that matter. I'm more comfortable with the beach, personally."
"Aye," Eleuterio agrees. "There may or may not be people in the village, and they may or may not be friendly. But if there are people there, we lose any chance of surprise if we sail into their harbor. I vote for the beach as well." He looks to the Captain and Master Cooper. "What say you two?"
I stroked my chin in thought. It was hardly the biggest decision, but haste was the order of the day. I wondered at Eleuterio's thoughts on settlers, because to my eyes the village looked quite run-down and abandoned.
Villages would be built near fresh water, I believe. And if there are settlers, they might know something about the grindylows that inhabit these rocks. Fortune favors the bold. We shouldn't be wasting time skulking around, if you'd have my thoughts.
"It isn't the time for negotiation," Evril states cooly. "This is a ship, and the crew has chosen a captain. If the Captain says to land at the village, then that's the heading the ship takes."
Well, at the moment, we're in a dinghy. And shortly we'll be on land. It's always prudent to listen to counsel, and to let others who are in the know take the lead when the time's right. If you've any insight as to why the beach is better, I'll hear it. But I'm simply interested in finding those creatures and our comrades before dark. Then we can bother with the wood for the barrels.
The Andoran is right, of course.
As the captain is explaining why it was necessary to get other opinions, Chum begins to guide the boat toward the village's landing rather than the open beach.
The surf allows you to beach the cutter easily, and you step out into the ankle-deep water onto the island. After weeks aboard ship, the feel of unmoving earth beneath you is odd. Ahead, the ruins of the village are all around. It is not a large collection of buildings; you would guess that the village was home to perhaps no more than three dozen people when it was last inhabited. Now it is just rotted wooden planks and a few half-standing mud walls on the edges of the jungle. A trail leads into the trees to the south, and the tall fist of rock you saw before rises up over the jungle, perhaps a mile to the east.
It's as I said; this place doesn't seem to be inhabited by the living. There's only that dead chap hanging from that tree over there.
Chum nods, having noticed the remains. "We'd best be remembering that the island itself can kill us even if the grindylows don't. Might be why the village seems to be abandoned. 'round mid-day, we need to be finding some shelter from the heat or the sun will back us where we stand. And if you plan to stay the night, we will need some way to cover ourselves from the biting flies and midges. Especially since we don't have a healer that can protect us from the diseases the tiny monsters carry."
I would imagine our gibbet-dancing friend is intended as a warning. We should definitely be on our guard from threats of every sort.
Sage advice, my friends. Is there any way to make sure that hanging fellow does not animate and come after us? Though I'm not rightly sure how he would, being trussed as he is.
I looked at the trail head, and then at the spire of rock. Cutting across country, or seeing where these settlers used to travel? While we weren't likely to get lost on such a small strip of land, we may be best served to follow a path, which undoubtedly leads to some sort of destination. It was only a matter of where it may lead?
I gestured to the trail. Let's move before the heat. I believe the path is laid out before us.