Aladdin, noticing that things were all set up top, makes his way over to Balion to help him up away from the edge of the ship.
Accepting the added strength and support of Aladdin eagerly. Balion moves back from the side of the ship to the foremast.
The Wanderlust’s prow meets the next wave head-on, jarring everyone aboard and showering all with chilly seawater. The ship rushes downward on the back of the wave, and meets another in a similar fashion, shaking the entire ship on impact. Seconds later, the prow rams a third wave. The Wanderlust handles each wave, breaking through each crest with an icy splash.
Beaming at the captain’s control of the ship, Simon’s high voice is heard in the lull of the crashing waves.
"Is this all you have for us, storm? Huzzah!" He throws up a victorious fist.
Almost in answer, the distance between the next impact widens, and the approaching wave swells even higher. Too high. The prow meets the wave, but the weight of the water above it jerks the stern upward, and the lids of the heavy crates spill open, tossing all manner of simple melee weapons and crossbows across the top deck.
The impact loosens one corner of the top foremast, which begins to whip violently in the wind. The captain stumbles as several weapons pummel his back and scatter across the planking, but he keeps his grip on the wheel. He pulls himself up, and jerks out a dagger lodged into his calf, a watery trail of blood running onto the deck. Gritting his teeth, he cranks the wheel again as the ship plummets into the trough between waves. The crew begins picking up the cluttering weapons or kicking them below deck.
The next wave is significantly smaller, and the Wanderlust glides easily up its ridge. As the ship mounts the crest, a whip of lightning lashes out and strikes the top of the foremast. The top sail bursts into flame, and the force of the strike sends a crack down the foremast. Sailors climbing down jolt and spasm from the electricity, and involuntarily grip the mast with all their might, tense as a bowstring.
Seeing the flames lick across the top sail the dwarf grits his teeth and begins to climb.
Stopping only 15 feet from the deck the Priest calls out a prayer to Irori. One arm clutching the mast with all his might, the other tracing out a simple pattern in the air. You can barely hear his words over the sound of the storm, but anyone watching can easily see the blue glow begin to emanate from his hand. Suddenly a deluge surges from his outstretched fingertips, two gallons of heavy rain sprays against the base of the flames.
Bolgrith squints against the wind to see if the flames were quenched or not.
The wave send Aladdin slipping and sliding to the deck. Hauling on the rope tied around his waste, he hoists himself back up to a standing position. Looking up after hearing the sharp crack of lightning, he notices the crackling fire eating the top sail. Seeing Bolgrith trying to douse the fire, Aladdin points up there and mutters a few words. A rain cloud appears and drenches the fire.
Together, the efforts of both spells extinguish the flames. The topsail is damaged, but no longer burning.
Rolg hears the sizzle of flaming sails but it's the crack of the foremast that has him worried.
"Loose your life lines and tie off somewhere else! NOW!"
Rolg cuts his line with his sword and moves about the mast sundering the ropes that secure it to the ship.
"She'll be comin' down! Watch your heads."
He shakes his head sadly as the men in the rigging start to scream as they see what he is doing.
I can't save us all boys. You knew the risks of a life aboard ship.
The crack worries Aladdin. Hmmmm.... looks like Rolg has the right idea.
Aladdin moves over to the main mast. Once he reaches the main mast, he grabs his rope still attached to the foremast and waves his hand. A spark erupts on the rope, 4 ft from the foremast. He tugs and the rope gives way and he ties the end to the main mast as the rain and waves puts the smoldering rope out.
Listening to Rolg's advice, Balion unties his rope and reties himself to the mainmast.
The Wanderlust dives between the waves, and the prow meets the next wave with a solid crash. The impact is too much for the foremast. With a fearsome cracking, the foremast splinters, breaks, and falls to the port side. The ten sailors scream in terror as their safety lines drag them to the ships edge. The Wanderlust leans slowly port from the weight of the fallen mast. The captain is heard cursing at the wheel.
Being that he is already free, Rolg will cut the bond of the closest ally to him: one whom Simon hired at the inn.
Bolgrith closes his eyes as he hears the foremast crack. He knows what's coming. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly he braces against the mast and jumps to the deck below.
Hitting the deck he draws his ax, preparing to cut as many ropes still attached to the mast that he can.
Cutting his rope instead, he races to the main mast and ties himself to the mainmast.
The dwarf tumbles oddly back to the deck. Rolg, Aladdin, Bolgrith, and Balion were able to escape the danger of the tumbling, broken mast.
Two of the bigger sailors on deck break the rope with their bare hands, while three others are able to squeeze out of their knots. The five on the topgallant are not so lucky. The foremast tumbles into the sea, with the sailors visible amid the lumber, rope and sail. The chaos of the waves and rain make it difficult to tell if they are dead from this distance, or merely dazed. As the mast drifts away, one of the remaining crew on board shouts something obscured by the wind and waves, and throws a rope that uncoils out to the men overboard. Another sailor follows suit. There are two other similar and unused rolls of rope hanging on the mainmast. The nearest survivor is twenty feet away from the ship and the distance is steadily growing with each pulse of the waves.
Bolgrith rushes to port calling out to those fallen overboard. He scans the waves and tries to ascertain the condition of the sailors in the water.
Grabbing a loose rope he hurls it at the nearest living waterborne man.
Aladdin grabs a robe and races to the edge of the sea. His hands flash and light appears. Aladdin commands the 4 ethereal orbs out into the water to light up the search. Spotting a swimming man, he ties one end of the rope to the side rails, makes a loop on the other end and hurls it at him. He points a finger and concentrates, whispering. YOU. Grab the ROPE! It is anchored to the ship. There! Loop it around your waist! he whispers to the flailing man.
The nearest two sailors appear to be conscious enough to hang onto the floating mast. One is treading freely in the water, as though thrown from the falling lumber. The other two, burned by the lightning and crushed by the fall, drift among the wreckage. If they receive immediate attention, they may survive. Bolgrith's rope slaps the closest waterborne sailor across the shoulders, and he blearily curls his fingers around it. Other sailors grab hold of the rope you hold and help the dwarf pull.
Aladdin's rope arcs far, and manages to reach the distant swimmer. The attention of Aladdin's target is immediately drawn to the rope, and in a few powerful strokes, he secures it around himself.
As the sailors are dragged from the drifting mast, the farthest unconscious sailor sinks beneath the dark, freezing brine.
Bolgrith pulls the man over the railing and lays him down on the deck. Checking his vitals he makes sure the man is in no immediate danger before he takes the rope and scans the water for any other drifting sailors.
Bolgrith can see one sailor being pulled up by Aladdin's rope, another awake and still clutching the mast, and one more about forty feet out, drifting limply amid the sail.
The dwarf releases the rope and it splashes near the other conscious sailor, who starts out of his dazed state and lunges for the rope. He grabs it tight.
Straining his muscles to the breaking point Bolgrith hauls up the second sailor up onto the ship. The Priest unties the rope and begins a more thorough check of both of the shivering men.
Using some of the medical supplies Cylar gave him he tends to the two sailors. Once stabilized and as comfortable as he can make them, he beckons to some of the men on deck to take the wounded below. Seeing a sword clatter by the Dwarf remembers the broken crates, he snatches up the sword and begins to help with clearing the deck of weapons and debris.
The sailor on Aladdin's rope is pulled onto the deck. Once over the railing, he gets on his own feet and shouts a thanks over the wind. Looking over this one as well, he appears to be fully awake, but badly hurt. He limps as he begins to pick up the strewn weapons.
Seeing all the blood and open wounds around him, Bolgrith stops. Breathing slowly in then out he loses focus on the wind and waves pounding, his mind finds its center.
Suddenly in a burst of blue flame his eyes open and a wave of warm energy flows from where he stands in the center of the ship. Enveloping the wounded and healthy alike the energy seeks out pain and alleviates it where it can. Wounds close and bleeding stops.
Rolg will spend his time to clean up the decks.
Balion uses his turn to also clean up the decks.
The sailors recoil and throw the line again to the remaining man overboard, but too late. He quietly disappears beneath the waves.
The storm rage on for hours, but Captain Rettley maintains control of the ship despite the loss of a mast and crew member. At long last, the storm begins to subside as it moves southward, the wind slows, and the raindrops thin. The sun can be seen setting behind a calmer overcast as the waves also begin lower. Simon finishes returning the weapons to the large crates, and finds a few extra nails to secure the lids.
When the wind dies down, Cylar emerges from below deck with a bucket and dumps the water overboard. A few sailors form a line, and most of the water taken below deck gone, although a bit still sloshes with the pitch of the ship.
It is dark when the seas are completely calm again. The crew seems dismayed at their loss, and the captain continues to deliver commands from the stern. Golo is seen above deck, shaking his head at the damage, but he says nothing to the crew. Stepping close to the captain, he whispers “Tah air still smells foul. I’ll be watchin’.”
The captain holds up two fingers to the Halfling, who nods as he reopens a barrel and hands out a double portion of salt ham and a mug of ale to everyone on the crew. Most of the crew consume it whilst muttering curses about their luck, a few cast scornful glances at the passengers. The captain takes his meal, and coldly informs Simon that their return journey will take much longer. He hopes to find a mast at the Merspires, and spend a day there for repairs. At the mention of the place, the mood of the sailors darken even more, but no one raises a voice against the captain. Simon appears ragged by the day’s adventure, and the disdain from the crew seems almost too much for him. He mumbles something about being tired and takes his food with him to his quarters. Soon the sailors climb into their hammocks.
Shivering, Rolg approaches the captain, "It's a shame about them that died today. I wish it could've been helped. You don't owe me nothin' for today. Send the money to their families."
Bolgrith sits on the main deck staring out to sea. The dwarf accepts the food offered, but says nothing and does not eat. Freezing water has soaked through his clothes, but it's as if he doesn't notice it, his mind is elsewhere deep beneath the waves. He closes his eyes and exhales, slowly muttering a prayer for those lost.
Eating the food in mouth fulls Balion shivers as he attempts to stay warm. Heading for the blanket in his pack to keep himself from getting sick.
Aladdin happily eats the food as he stands in soaked clothing eyeing the crew's behavior. Ahhhhh. I love a good storm! Sorry there were casualties though... Not sure why everyone is pissed at Simon, wasn't his fault a storm hit. Surely these sailors knew of the dangers of the sea. he thought as he munched on ham.
Golo looks over the four of you, mildly surprised that the passengers were out in the storm, and by the word of the captain, actually helpful.
"Cap'n's tasked me wit' findin' 'ur course again. Skies apartin', if ya lanlubbah's wants tah learn what tah stars can sey."
He briefly meets Rolg's eyes and flicks his left wrist with a quick odd gesture with his fingers at his side. Without waiting for a response, he trudges up the stairs.
Rolg ignores the gesture and goes down to bed.
Bolgrith watches the hobgoblin ascend the stairs. Wordlessly he follows, sleep forgotten for the evening.
Balion decides to sleep off his fatigue. Hanging his clothes to dry as he sleeps with his blanket about him.
Aladdin heads back to his room to rest.
Golo hesitates when he sees only the dwarf follow him, but he shrugs and strides to the wheel, setting a wood block that keeps it from turning freely. The mainsails are still rolled up, so the Wanderlust bobs idly in the calmer waves. He studies the stars as they appear –the overcast is not completely gone, and only the brightest stars seem to glimmer through the light weather. After some time, he points out Gorum’s Blade, a constellation forming a massive greatsword. He also identifies the Star of Asmod and Torag’s Sparks. The thinning clouds continue to move overhead, and he points out Inheritor’s Glory, a smaller sword lit by weaker stars that seems to interpose Gorum’s Blade. Before long, the clouds recover Inheritor’s Glory, but Golo continues to explain over the next hour how to discern the direction they should steer the ship, based on these stellar points. Soon, he nods grimly, satisfied at the course set. He expertly climbs the mainmast and releases one of the sails, and resumes his stance at the wheel, occasionally glancing above. He mutters to Bolgrith that is all the stars that will be likely showing tonight. With this final comment, he fidgets his left hand awkwardly before returning it to the wheel. Afterward, he quietly ignores Bolgrith.
The sun rises, and with it, for the first time in months, a blue sky. Simon is seen about, in much better spirits, remarking on the weather as a reminder of home. The sailors shuffle back to work, and Golo lingers on the deck, and with the captain assesses the damage in the better light. Soon, they come to a conclusion and Golo disappears below deck, and the captain inspects the rest of the ship as he returns to his post at the wheel.
Breakfast and lunch pass without event, and as the sailors settle back into their work from the second meal, a voice cries from the small platform high on the mainmast. "A ship! Fifth mark from starboard bow!"
After a command for a nearby sailor to take the helm, Captain Rettley runs to the ship’s railing, squinting one eye through a spyglass.
"Aye, there it is. Smaller than ours. Bearing south, but seems to be listing. Vern, run up the friendly flag."
The salty sailor nods and sets to the task. The captain reclaims the wheel and turns it to intercept the smaller vessel. In two hours, the Wanderlust is within one hundred yards of the ship. Fiona’s Regret is painted on the stern, but it is faded from years in the weather. Fiona’s Regret leans far to port side, enough that a strong wind could capsize her. No crew can be seen on top deck, and a splintering, rotted hole can be seen in her underbelly. At this distance, a putrid smell emanates from the derelict. Many of the crew wrinkle their noses.
"Hullo! Hullo!" The captain booms. The creaking of wood, the moan of strained rope, and the rush of the waves fill the silence.
"If there is anyone aboard, they will need our aid, and the mast appears to be in good order. We will repair here, while this fair weather holds. Cast lines, we are boarding."
Wanderlust is drawn up near the stinking Fiona’s Regret, and Captain Rettley and four other sailors swing across the gap and tie off lines.
Before captain and crew swing away, Rolg seizes the captain by the arm.
"This is a trap. No good, honest captain would let the paint fade so about the name of his ship. Plus, there's a hole in her belly, but she is not sunk. I say someone is hoping for a rescue team because they mean to take your ship. Scuttle her captain, and have done with it."
Balion runs to intercept the sailors, believing the foul smell to be caused by the dead or dying, possibly the result of some disease. Not wanting to take any chances he yells at the sailors.
"This ship is held by the dead, and the dead keep it."
Peering into the general direction of the ship, he endeavors to determine if he can see any movement.
Certain that the smell of the ship is dangerous, he stands next to Rolg ready to back him up if it came to blows.
The captain grins. "Not all captains are honest, hobgoblin."
His smile disappears as he sniffs, and frowns at the odor. He meets Rolg's eye. "Aye, could be disease, could be death, but I doubt boarders, this far from any land. But if we meet another storm, Wanderlust won't stay afloat. We need this mast. Stay aboard while we work quickly, if it eases your sense of safety. Men, keep your weapons ready."
The captain and four sailors swing across.
At the thudding of their feet, three barnacle-encrusted draugr scrape out of the top deck cabin. Their sloughing flesh and clothing are green and grey from rot, and seawater drips from their greataxes. Air rasps out from behind their teeth.
The sailors draw their weapons.
Yelling to alert the rest of the crew. "ZOOOMMMMBBBIEEEES!"
As he draws his blade and readies himself, the ranger runs to find a torch or other means to light the drifting ship.
He plants his feet preparing to cut the boarding lines if the draugr attempt to board the ship. Damn sailors, and their damnable luck. Sorely convinced that all the misfortune of their journey is caused by his meager catch of fish upon their first day at sea. Balion strains his mind to recall all he knows of the undead who now scrape across the deck of the Fiona's Regret.
"WHAT IS THAT!?" Aladdin gasps as he stumbles backwards. "If we need the mast, then we have to fight for the mast."