Caerador closes his eyes and calls to mind an ancient historical text with a large section about the fall of the island nation and Aventernus. He especially recalls an artist's poor capture of an Aventi, clearly based more in myth and the tall tales of sea-goers than fact. The creature pictured was more monstrous than humanoid, and the hippocampus was drawn as part of the creature, all in all looking like an angry, evil, pale blue centaur of the sea.
Though optimistic that this creature can be helpful, Caerador remembers his duty (a dirty old habit from his Society days) and takes a defensive stance near the cabin and Mistress Lanvi.
Spurring the hippocampus in the water, the aventi and her mount glide effortless through the Sargasso mats. Reaching the side of The Audacious a rope ladder is extended down. She grips the rope in one hand and pulls herself off her mount and begins to lithely ascend the ladder.
Below, the hippocampus floats next to the boat, alternating between staring at Raim, and craning its neck to spy Timora.
Upon reaching the top, she swings herself over the rail and drops to the deck in a muted thump. Standing midway between five and six feet, she has a powerful grace to her movements. The companions notice that she has small fins on the back of her forearms, and calves that are currently folded back.
Armored in a beautiful breastplate, the companions can tell that it is made of no material that they are familiar with. The breastplate is adorned with a white spear striking and parting water on a diamond, clearly Aventernus’s holy symbol. Strapped to her back, and rising above her shoulder, is the hilt of a huge sword made of the same material as her armor. Hanging from her hip is a crossbow.
Though not standing passively nor aggressively, one imagines her springing into action very quickly should she choose to.
"Hello and well met. As I said before, I am Timora Coralrim, Knight of the Pearl. I understand that your sailing misfortunes had lead you into these Dead Calms and into the terrible grip of the Sargasso mats.
"As I queried before, I wish to know your purpose in sailing through here, and why you choose to enlist the aid of this abomination?" She looks distastefully in Raim's direction. " You have not entered into any scared territory, but it is unlikely that you will survive your current predicament. I wish to know more about you and your purpose before I decide what it is that I shall do." The last two statements were delivered devoid of threat, just a statement of fact.
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Benaiah looks furtively from the underwater creature to Arimar, then back to the woman, focusing on her magnificent armor.
"We are on our way to Magnimar from Absalom." Benaiah states quickly, knowing the short temper of his friend, especially when he has to repeat himself.
Don't pick a fight with this one, she might be able to help.
"I can't say why Captain Barbarosa is sailing to Magnimar, only that the four of us," Benaiah indicates his companions, "Are escorting our boss back home, and we are paying for the trip on this vessel."
Why do I get the feeling this is either going to get really easy, or really complicated?
"Nice armor... What's it made of?" He spouts before realizing he should wait until the business is taken care of.
"Yes, it is as I said earlier," Arimar chimes in with Benaiah, "We sail for Magnimar, and the only reason we are in this particular seaweed infested area of the see is the incompetence of our lookout." The necromancer casts yet another baleful look in Nelenquessir's direction.
"As for this 'creature', I also told you before: he is useful to us. He is not intelligent and incapable of doing evil on his own. He is simply a mindless, animated tool... and currently being put to good uses as a tireless oarsman."
Raim continues to pull on the oars, despite making no progress, and handily illustrates Arimar's point.
"Besides," Arimar continues, "What do you care if we have a zombie in our employ? Did not Aventernus say: 'The sea cares not for good nor evil. All who travel upon her surface must pay respect, for saint or sinner, none will escape the cold depths who refuse to obey her laws.'" Arimar secretly hopes he isn't quoting the scripture of Gozreh to this woman by mistake.
"As far as I know, we have broken no laws... and I have already offered to destroy the zombie if it becomes necessary."
Malgrim peers curiously at the strange material of the armor and spear. What is this? Stone or steel? Or perhaps some product of an aquatic creature? He remains quiet, trying to look unobtrusive and non-threatening while leaning close to his charge's door and allowing his more vocal associates do the talking.
No time to confer with our employer without bringing undue attention to her.
Timora turns to Benaiah, ”This metal I wear is called Pearlsteel, but that is unimportant right now.” She cocks her head to the side to briefly study the large Chelaxian before addressing Arimar.
”What do I care that you cavort with abominations? Salt and spray, we are born of the waves, to live our lives, to die and return to the deeps. It is unnatural to live again after death. To pull someone from the afterlife back to this live is an abomination, and one that is only practiced by users of evil magics.
“Aventernus is a stern god of justice and fair practices. I will forgive your ignorance of my beliefs and culture, as I am sure that I have offended you in some of my speech and mannerisms. I am no diplomat sent to befriend the surface races and have no gift of eloquent words. Rather I patrol the Dead Calms, cleansing them of the undead that spawn and fester in these unholy waters. For the sargasso mats will not kill you, but the undead hordes will kill you without impunity.
“No you have broken no laws as you are not Aventi, and not subject to our laws. Yet what you do is abhorrent to us. To clarify, in my culture to use evil to do good, is evil.
I do not attempt to rescue those that so brazenly call forth and command abominations. Usually they meet justice at the end of my sword. But you are but one man on a ship of countless others. I wish to know what the collective thoughts of the others are on this manner, for it appears that they agree with your unholy practices.
“And as you have promised me safe passage, so I will respect the ancient maritime customs and no harm to you or your monstrosity will come by my hands.
“If you were to destroy your creature; well, it does not change the fact that this is your practice, one that seems to be supported by the others. ”
She stands impassively, awaiting a response in the calm, warm air.
A strange metal crafted by secretive aventi metallurgists working near volcanic vents in the ocean floor, pearlsteel is gleaming, shining steel covered with a blue-white sheen like mother of pearl. Created from fine steel and rare silvery pearls found only in the ocean depths where the pressures alone would kill a land walker, pearl-steel is highly prized by all undersea races and constitutes a major trade item for the aventi.
Pearlsteel is very light, especially in water. Pearlsteel items weigh 25% less than their normal equivalents.
Did she seriously begin that tirade with 'what do I care'?!? Arimar seethes silently, wisely keeping his mouth shut on that particular matter.
"You have the right of it," Arimar notes, "The crew do not appreciate Raim's presence on board... though he has proven useful in getting free of these mats, he was not welcome. However, our employer pays handsomely and can be very persuasive when required. The captain reluctantly gave up and allowed the zombie to come aboard.
"You seem quite insistent that it is evil to use evil," Arimar sighs, "But how can something that cannot think and possesses neither the mind nor the soul of its former self be evil? As with any weapon, intent is what matters. Perhaps the magics used are some form of evil, but I think it is ignorance that causes you to condemn them outright. However, I do not seek to convince you... just to let you know that there are other perspectives, and I do not consider myself to be an evil man.
"Heh," Arimar chuckles, "How could I be? If only evil can come of using evil, then by that same logic I must be good and pure. I possess the blood of angels, don't you know?"
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Is all negotiation like this? Posturing and debating the nuances?
"Look lady, you seem like a great gal. Maybe you've got a need between your thighs for a big strapping man," he smirks, attempting playful banter, "or maybe hobgoblin." He chuckles.
"Yea anyways... So it seems like you might be willing to help us out. I'm not sure what more convincing you need from us, you've already made your judgements. Whether we destroy the zombie or not, we are who we are. We've no interest in getting in a fight, because we would rather save our strength for cutting through these mats."
Benaiah slips his greatsword back into the sheath on his back and pats Malgrim on the shoulder before shouting towards the front of the ship. "Lets get them rowers and cutters some fresh water! These mats aren't going to cut themselves!" he barks, turning away from the lady. "Malgrim, if you please?" he follows up politely.
He hopes that people begin to listen and get back to their monotonous tasks, and then turns his head over his shoulder to regard the lady of the sea. "You gonna help or not? If not, you don't need to waste your time with us. When we are all dead from dehydration and heat exhaustion, Raim will still be in the boat, pulling at those oars. He should be an easy target then."
Wonder if that pearlsteel is as expensive as mithril. And now I wonder which would be better... his mind begins to wander immediately.
Timora first answers Arimar, ”You compare casting evil, necromantic spells akin to a master blacksmith working raw materials into weapons? Though you have the blood of angles it seems that you use those powers differently than your parentage would suggest..
“And you,” she turns to Benaiah, ”You would proposition me as if I am some unthinking harlot? You think because I am woman that you can talk to me in this manner?
“It is as you say, I shall leave you to your fates. ” She turns to the companions, ”The rest will share your fate be it good or evil.”
“In peace I came, in peace I shall depart.”
She squats and flies upward and backward tucking into a flip. Her leap carries her over the rail where she qucikly decends towards the sea below. She straightens and enters the water with nary a splash before pulling over to her hippocampus.
Pulling herself up on her mount, she turns and accelerates away from the ship before descending under the waves.
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Benaiah rolls his eyes at the woman, and shrugs his shoulders towards the Colonel.
"What!? She wasn't going to help us anyways. Even if we dumped Raim into the ocean, she already hated us for not freaking out over a zombie and killing it instantly." He defends himself.
"C'mon boys! Keep cuttin those mats!"
"Well, I guess I screwed that one up for us," Arimar notes sourly, "What do you think she was talking about when she mentioned undead that spawn here, and some horde that would try to kill us?" The necromancer should be worried, but he seems almost excited. He wrings his hands in a gesture more greedy than concerned. The chance to add to my collection, so soon... and with some sea-going creatures...
The Colonel nods at Benaiah, "The more you roam around Golarion, the more oddness you find. I know that you boys have been a god send as far as I am concerned and I am glad to have you aboard. Win or lose, at least we won't go down without a fight.
"Nelenquessir, next time anyone approaches us unseen by your thrice cursed eyes, I am cutting you up for fish bait!
"What in the nine hells are you all standing around for? Back to work!"
The crew suddenly springs into motion scurrying about the ship.
Captain Barbosa walks up to the companions, "Rough one boys, but I am sure nothing you haven't heard or seen before. People are people and you'd have a better chance of sailing in the Eye than changing that one.
"I agree Arimar. What she said about hordes of undead has me a bit nervous, truthfully. I though the Dead Calms was more figurative than literal. Regardless, I am not going to get caught with my pants down again. Colonel, double the watch. I want every man on this ship with at least one weapon."
He turns to the companions and lowers his voice, "Not my business, but I overheard your tongue lashing at Mistresses' hands. You want to tell her about our visitor and the Dead Calms or you want me to?"
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"Pffft" Benaiah sputters dismissively. "Help woulda been nice, but it wasn't because of you, Arimar. That woman had her mind made up before she got on the ship." Benaiah pulls on a rope tied to a raft, helping them clear a tangle of the foliage before letting go again.
"If anything, its just another lesson in how a good bit of people might treat us if they know the tools we use." Benaiah pauses to pull hard on the rope again, letting go when the sailors below scream at him to stop.
"Just means we have to hide them better." he grins, waving off the perturbed sailors below.
"Uh. Yea. I'll go tell her. Right away." Benaiah shuffles off quickly to Mistress Lanvi's cabin to relay the recent events to her.
Malgrim watches silently as the aquatic woman departs, the violent shaking of the stone circle bleeding through frustration despite his outward stoic appearance. "Once more, we are adrift in troubled waters." He watches as Benaiah departs, then turns and approaches Arimar.
"There are few whom I have met in my journeys so dangerous as the pious; those that would use their piety as a weapon to mask their pride and their prejudice." He gives a small sigh as he regards the stilling water that betrays where Timora left. "And yet, I have learned the painful lesson that my cloak and hood prove better armor than inches of steel in preventing harm to myself, or those that I travel with. I see little difference between your puppet and the tools I wield, and yet perhaps... discretion may be in order in the future."
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"Discretion, Malgrim?" Arimar laughs, "Normally, I do disguise my minions to pass casual inspection... however, we are currently becalmed on an enormous stretch of sea... no land or sign of any intelligent life for miles around, and this woman rises up from the depths and condemns me.
"We're just lucky she didn't also take issue with hobgoblins! Remember Mendev? A nation beset by demons, you'd think they wouldn't be so picky about who they hire for aid..." The necromancer pats Malgrim on the back, "Anyway... come, let us renew our efforts. Between your stones and Raim's tireless rowing, we will be out of here eventually. Besides, if any crew members perish, we can always add them to the rowing crew!"
Arimar ignores the dirty looks he receives from the crew at that last comment, and simply cools everyone down with some created water.
The seconds stretch on to minutes, the minutes stretch onto hours, and the sun is barely at it midday peak.
The stiffing, breeze-less conditions do nothing to lessens the monotony and the crew has a palpable edge as they go about their business with short sword or mace swinging from their hips. A few poleaxes can be seen bundled in regular intervals throughout the ship.
Suddenly, from the front of the ship can be heard cries and screams followed by a loud splash.
"Man in the water! Man in the water off the port bow!" Nelenquessier cries from the crow's nest.
The Companions rush to the front of the ship only to see one red kerchief flapping in the air as all the men on the raft struggle to get a grip on it. The arm jerks five feet to the left and a bloody cloud emanates from where the arm jerks under the water.
Attacks from Land: Characters swimming, floating, or treading water on the surface, or wading in water at least chest deep, have improved cover (+8 bonus to AC, +4 bonus on Reflex saves) from opponents on land. Land-bound opponents who have freedom of movement effects ignore this cover when making melee attacks against targets in the water. A completely submerged creature has total cover against opponents on land unless those opponents have freedom of movement effects. Magical effects are unaffected except for those that require attack rolls (which are treated like any other effects) and fire effects.
Total Cover: If you don't have line of effect to your target (that is, you cannot draw any line from your square to your target's square without crossing a solid barrier), he is considered to have total cover from you. You can't make an attack against a target that has total cover.
Caerador can spot creatures in the water that resemble seals.
Benaiah and Caerdor inform the group that these monsters are Bunyips.
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"Bunyips! Ha! I know those creatures! When I was developing my mutagen, I distilled their blood to isolate the reagent that spurred their blood frenzy. Get those men up in the boat! "
Benaiah roars his command, hoping to instill some urgency in those who might not understand the peril of their situation.
He turns to his companions, "Don't go in the water to fight them, we need to kill a few and scare them off. Won't be easy, blood in the water makes them crazier than me in a bar fight. We are better off taking away their targets than trying to fight them on their turf."
As he finishes his monologue, he reaches out and smacks a panicked sailor fleeing the area. "Hey! Go tell Mistress Lanvi what is happening. ON THE DOUBLE!" he shouts.
Malgrim grits his teeth as he grips the the rail of the ship, his eyes seeking out the lithe forms circling in the dark and bloodied water. His anger is palpable as a violent swirl of sea-salt swirls up around him, crystalizing around his palm into a spear that he readies to cast off as soon as any of the creatures break the surface.
"We must get those men back onto the ship before the swarm knocks them into the water. Someone throw a rope down!"
As soon as he spies something he can hit, Malgrim releases the stored elemental energy, hurling the lance of salt and spray like a javelin at the bunyip, attempting to pierce it before it slips beneath the waves once more.
Caerador bites his lip as the cloud of blood spreads across the water like a large inkblot on parchment. Taking a moment to review his memorized repertoire, he laments his limited spellbook. After glancing towards Malgrim and seeing the pale white lance coalesce around his hands, he follows suit and chants the phrases and makes the necessary sigils in the air, save the last one.
DC 15 Fortitude Save or Staggered for 1 round
The Geokineticist and Arcanist both move towards the front of the boat, waiting for a bunyip to break the surface.
Crew members run frantically around the deck, some flinging buoys into the water, others grab the ropes and try to pull the rafts back in.
The bunyips have different ideas. One of them surfaces exposing itself to attacks from the ship.
Both the snowball and the lance of salt and spray miss their mark.
The bunyip opens it seal mouth as wide as it can and emits a roar that is supernaturally loud and horrifying.
All the inhabitants of both rafts begin a panicked melee and all of them tumble into the water.
Once in the water the remaining bunyips immediately dart out to attack the nearest foe.
All connect and the blood fills the seas turning it into a bubbling red carpet. Screams can be heard as the bunyips begins to eat their foes.
Only one of the unnamed sailor on the shallop begins to panic, but Fish Eye, Plank, and Chicken Gizzards team up to subdue the man.
Fish Eye and Plank begins to scram at the same time, ""
The shallop makes its way through the mats towards The Audacious.
Arimar recalls a spell that might help in this situation. He did not have it prepared, but by the grace of Urgathoa and with his amulet, he should be able to help. Gripping the holy artefact (a full-bodied woman on a chain forged of tiny but long silver cocks that most mistake for simple, lusty jewelry) Arimar calls forth a spell, hoping that the sailors below have enough sense, even in their frightened state, to not resist.
"Lower your mental defenses, and let this spell suffuse you all!" he calls to the panicked, to the horrified and to the frightened crew members on the raft below.
I can only get to the single raft, Arimar worries, casting a glance to the men on the port side, Those men are as good as dead. Being calm isn't going to help them with bunyips tearing their throats out.
With a sigh of mild regret, Arimar chants "Calm emotions," targeting the raft on the starboard side of the ship.
"Now get on that raft and climb back up!" cries Arimar, before turning to some men aboard The Audacious, "And for Gozreh's sake, throw them some f!$+ing ropes!"
"Raim!" the necromancer turns at last to his undead minion, "Pick up that halberd and protect the rowers! Wait until your targets come fully out of the water!"
Raim collects the halberd, and steps back a little - his dead fighter instincts kicking in and granting his dead self knowledge that most zombies do not. Raim holds it ready to pierce any bunyip that shows itself within his range.
.
Raim lashes out with the pole arm that the Colonel supplied to all on the ship after the sea-paladin's warning.
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Benaiah fights the urge in his mind to drink his extract of touch of the sea and dive into the bloodied waters. Instead he rips a pliable leather pouch from his hip and twists it, cracking some unseen object inside of it. He leans over the railing, arm cocked high, ready to release the strange bag should one of the beasts surface.
for
Watching nearly helplessly from the side of the boat, Malgrim allows the seasalt to sink into his every pore, searing and Burning in his blood. The pain sharpens his prepared attack, sharpening the edge of his coalescing crystal, watching for one to break water once again.
At the same time, his skin hardens and takes on a salty sheen, shimmering in the sun.
The men panicking in the water can feel a calming sensation overcome them.
Benaiah drops an alchemical bomb into the head of one of the bunyips but misses badly to the . The Chelaxian figures the sailors are already dead, or the water will put it out, but at least he is trying.
Malgrim takes a step towards the rail, hesitates, then sends forth a blast of salt. The pain he took to make the salt larger than possible has apparently skewed his aim and it sailed harmlessly into the water. At least he has strengthened his defenses as he lets fly from The Audacious.
"These damned monsters are eating up all our labor. Mistress Lanvi herself is going to have to trim sails before too long!"
Another snowball is conjured and hurled at a nearby bunyip
Whether frustration at all of the failed attacks, sheer bad luck, or performance anxiety in the midst of the Mistress, Caerador cannot be certain, but another spell splashes harmlessly into the waves.
"Damn! Benaiah! Don't you have a draught that turns you into a sea lion or something?! We need to get something in there!"
Again the worthy companions cannot seem to slow the mauling of the bunyips.
Finishing off all but one sailor from the port raft, which one of the bunyips attacks, the remaining four break off to munch on the sailors off the starboard bow. They find two screaming sailors to bite upon.
Meanwhile, Chicken Gizzards, Plank, and Fish Eye pull the shallop astride two of the floundering sailors and pull them onto the small row. Raim stand in the bow ready to hit any creature his master tells him to hit.
Two panicked sailors still terrified swim as far from the viscous sea lion-shark creatures as they can get. Crew from The Audacious toss lines to the men. Catching them in terrified grips, the scream at the crew to haul them up to safety.
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Screams of dying sailors echo in Benaiah's ears, flashes of a grisly scene and a alter of sacrifice flit through the large man's conciousness.
Sailors are easy targets...
Morale is in the toilet, we may never get out of here...
They won't try to attack me when the sailors are such easy meals, will they?
All of those thoughts pass through Benaiah's mind in a fraction of a second, more a feeling of flawed logic than a train of thoughts.
Act now, or watch them all die, and watch our chances of getting out of this alive disappear.
Benaiah grabs a vial from his bandolier strapped across his armored chest and quickly chugs it down. Instantly his gloves and greaves meld into his hands and feet, and webs appear between his fingers and toes, his feet resembling flippers.
"Arimar! Bull's Strength, NOW!"
You can chastise me later...
With the request that sounds more like a demand, Benaiah leaps over the railing headfirst, arms out in front of him in a graceful dive.
Falls into water are handled somewhat differently. If the water is at least 10 feet deep, the first 20 feet of falling do no damage. The next 20 feet do nonlethal damage (1d3 per 10-foot increment). Beyond that, falling damage is lethal damage (1d6 per additional 10-foot increment).
Characters who deliberately dive into water take no damage on a successful DC 15 Swim check or DC 15 Acrobatics check, so long as the water is at least 10 feet deep for every 30 feet fallen. The DC of the check, however, increases by 5 for every 50 feet of the dive.
[ooc]Emphasis by me
"Benaiah," Arimar says aloud, "Why do we remain friends?"
Arimar sighs deeply before jumping forwards and in to the water also.
Arimar plops into the water, and then floats to the surface. He would immediately start to sink, but he chants a quick spell first.
"Water walk communal," he chants.
Each of the touched recipients pop out of the water and find themselves hovering above the waves.
"I need to touch you to apply bull's strength, Benaiah!" Arimar says angrily.
Raim continues to obey his last command. A chunk of his shoulder separates from his body and slides into the water.
Malgrim sighs as he watches Arimar and Benaiah go for a swim. "How is is it that we've survived together for so long?"
unless you want me to roll again).
Duh... That was dumb.
Caerador watches unbelievingly as his friends cast themselves overboard. He tries to convince himself to think of following them, but cannot make himself be so impulsive and stupid even in his imagination.
"What in the Hells are you two doing?!?', yells an elven voice over the screams and chaos aboard the Audacious. "These damn seals can't climb into ships! Let them feast, get bored and be away!
Uncertain what else he can do to be useful to his companions, Caerador readies yet another snowball and hurls it towards the closest Bunyip to his companions.
Benaiah fed up with the carnage below them, and their inability to hit the bunyips is too much for the Cheliaian to handle.
Leaping over the gunwale of The Audacious, he plunges into the salty sea imbued with magics to help him propel himself around.
Airmar's fondness for the man knows no bounds only reinforcing Mistress Lanvi's theory about latent love betwixt the two men.
Once in the sea, the necromancer uses the blessing of his dark goddess to allow the men to literally walk on water.
The Colonel tries his best to organize the men on deck, ordering some to heave the ropes and pull the remaining men to safety while ordering a handful of men to draw and loose their short seaworthy bows.
A small flight os arrows sends ripples all around the bunyips, striking one or two here or there.
The bunyips see their prey escaping, charge through the water lashing out at the two remaining sailors .
While the others look to other men walking on water. The attack in the standard bunyip way, diving below the surface only to streak upward rising out of the water as they bite their prey, hoping to disorient it.
The one bunyip is able to bite deeply into Arimar's leg while the other is stymied by the Benaiah's armor.
"Come on, Benaiah, no time for heroics... let's just get out of here!" Arimar shouts, "Unless you really want that strength spell..."
"Bull's strength," Arimar chants, infusing his friend with heightened strength.
Arimar then grabs ahold of the rope with both hands and waits to be hauled up.
Arimar grabs onto the rope with both hands and plants one then the other foot firmly on the hull of the ship and starts to walk his way up.
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Benaiah laughs a maniacal laugh as he dances on the surface of the water. Then Arimar's words of obvious wisdom cut through.
Let me free! Release the power inside you!
He shakes off the voice in his head for a second, struggling with what to do.
"Dammit you're right..." he barks in frustration at the situation and himself.
"Maybe this will scare them off..."
Benaiah's face flushes red and his eyes go bloodshot with the sudden increase in blood pressure throughout his body. Muscles bulge and grow and a growl escapes from his grinding teeth. With a twist of his back, after his feet are set inexplicably on top of the waves, he wrenches his torso hard, bringing the scythe down in a fast and hard arc, hoping to split the bunyips as easily as his blade cuts through the water.
for
His attack appears true, though he does not wait long enough to verify that he cut the giant creature before reaching back with his left hand to grip the rope and tug hard, indicating that he should be pulled up.
The crew of The Audacious, seeing the companions draw the ire of the bunyips, pull with all their might. The companions are yanked off their feet and skim across the top of the water until they reach the rope ladder hanging over the side.
The bunyips, watching their wounded hunting mate bleed in the water, move to devour the dead sailors rather than face the more difficult armored and armed prey.
The shallop pulls along side and unloads the men, before crew secure it to winches which hoist the shallop into its secure moorings. The make-shift rafts bob lazily in the calm waters still tethered to The Audacious.
As they look at the carnage below, ten dead sailors were lost to the viciousness of the bunyips, and one bitten bunyip carcass can be seen floating in the blood slick that very slowly is dissipating into the sea slowly dying. Every so often a sailor loosens a shaft whenever a bunyips breeches to feed. Like the blood slick, the bunyips soon disappear under the mats and are gone to digest the meat in their full bellies.
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The Colonel walks up and begins in a teary voice. "That was the dumbest brave thing I have seen. You truly think with that sack swinging between your legs. Crazy stupid, but brave. I would fight any battle in the nine hells with you men at my back!"
Captain Barbosa joins the group. "Tragic. Just tragic. The men can take the day off if they are too broken up to work today. I'd like a ceremony tonight to mark the passing of those men. Arimar, would you be so kind to prepare a few words?
"After a brief mourning time, we need to figure out what to do. I lost ten men, and those that are left will be reluctant to jump back on that raft."
He shakes his head, momentarily dejected. A poor trait for a leader of men stranded in the Dead Calms.
Malgrim nods to the warrior in a show of respect. "That was quite impressive, though perhaps foolish. Still, it was effective, and that is all that matters in the end."
Malgrim shakes his head at the loss. "The Dead Calms live up to their name. Though I fear there is more death in store, should we remain here long. There are less bellies to be fed, yet less bodies to work the sails and help free us."
Caerador rubs his magically chilled hands together before clapping the shoulders of his companions upon their return to the ship.
"I failed you two today. As soon as we make land, I will seek some more utilitarian spells. I know of many that could have been more useful. Without Pathfinder resources and guidance, we need to be ready for anything." A look of true concern flashes across Caerador's eyes as he regards Benaiah, and an all too familiar wrench in the pit of his gut keeps his gaze at Arimar even longer. If the fallen Aasimar had ever guessed the cause of that guilt he has never let on, yet it still pains the Arcanist; especially during moments like this.
Shaking out of his own thoughts, Caerador cracks a slight smile, nods approvingly to Malgrim, and motions towards the cabin door. "C'mon, let's go see how the Mistress fared the attack. She might be mad if we don't report."
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Benaiah nods to the Colonel, accepting his compliment.
"None of it does any good if the men are too afraid to go back on the water." He responds, both to the Captain and his friends.
Taking his helm off and tossing it across the deck with a clatter, Benaiah approaches the soaking wet and terrified sailors.
He begins to unstrap some of the plates tied to his arms as he goes, dropping more pieces onto the deck every few seconds.
"Look here. Some of our friends died today. Men you've spent more time than is natural with. Some of us won't be going back to the families we left behind. Some of us are just sad sacks of $*%& who don't have anyone to go back to anyways, but that doesn't change the fact that we are here, shoulder to shoulder, and we depend on each other."
Benaiah, arms free of the plates, finishes unlooping the last strap that cinched the giant breast plate across his chest. He hefts the piece off his shoulders and over his head, dropping that to the deck as well.
"I know you don't want to go back out on that water. But if we are all honest with each other, each of those men got a better fate than what will happen to us if we don't finish cuttin' through these damned mats. I'd rather die in a Bunyip's jaws than die of starvation."
The cod piece clatters to the deck and Benaiah bends over to begin on his greaves.
"Now get yourself cleaned up and dried off. Put some food and fresh water in your belly. Suck it up and meet me down on the skiffs in 20 minutes. We've got work to do."
The last of the large man's armor hits the deck.
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After his tirade, Benaiah makes to follow his companions back to Mistress Lanvi's cabin to make the report and check on her.
"Sorry Arimar. I'm used to drinking my spells, I keep forgetting you have to be in contact to give me that strength. I'll try not to do that to you again."
He hangs his head a little, feeling sheepish for putting his friends in danger they didn't ask for.
"Thanks for backing me up though." his smile returns as he regards all three of his companions.