James watches the events, intrigued at the possible findings.
The hard and sweaty work on the capstans continues as the chains begin to inexorably withdraw straining and taut from the waters. As they do though... there are three short jerks on the line that runs down to the lobsterman himself...
The Tulita tries to get the Captain's attention, pointing down into the water. "See those shadows? Something down there with him."
Tipene considers the dark shadows and weighs up his chances were he to loose jagged pointed fury. It'd be a throw for the ages though, as the figures are swift moving and deep.
Quillin raises a long tapering blue eyebrow. "No one gets wet, huh?" he asks with a smirk. Then he digs out a bit of net and a little bell.
Captain, that suit offer him enough protection? A look of concern shows on James' face as he leans over the rail, poised to jump.
Lanteri frowns with some consternation, but not outright worry yet "Should do..."
The rest of the crew haven't gone much past gawking or starting to crowd the side to gaze into the water and try and pick up on the same dark shadows racing.
Bek gets ready to jump if he spots any blood in the water or more frantic pulling from below.
The men on the Freeport vessel continue to work at the capstans, but their progress slows. A couple more salts on the other vessel move to the contraption connected to the sunken lobsterman and begin similar exertion that has that line begin a gradual ascent as well. As of yet there hasn't been anything break the surface of the water - though flitting shadows can still occasionally be seen.
Lanteri's concern grows and Horumheb and Hinsin look to her questioningly but there isn't any overt call to action yet.
Iscarel leans over the taffrail, lounging his head on his hands and giving a sullen sigh. "Not much of a show, is it captain?"
The fiendish lobster-eel doesn't look that different from its mortal brethren. It surfaces long enough for Quillin to shout something in an infernal tongue and then makes a diving charge at the deep shadows.
Quillin then rubs a bit of leather and mumbles up a protective bit of force armor to encase him for good measure.
"Captain, I'm a pretty good swimmer. Want me to dive in after Quillin's lobster and see what's going on?"
Captain, should we launch the jolly and move in to drive some of those things away? Ah, hells, that'll take too long!
The sailor steps up and dives into the water expertly, swimming toward the rope.
"Captain, I'm a pretty good swimmer. Want me to dive in after Quillin's lobster and see what's going on?"
The Captain furrows brow for a couple of moments before giving a combination nod / shrug to Bek - which sends him flying into the water after Rackham. Both of you plunge head below into the relatively calm surf - and see the streak of the fiendish reefclaw precede you into deeper waters.
The reefclaw has pulled some of the attention unto itself... but likely won't survive overlong on it's own.
Atop the brine, Lanteri snaps about and orders "Get the jolly down! Hinsin, lead a party out with blades." a glance towards Iscarel carrying a tacit suggestion he join... and a similar one towards Quillin that perhaps he should remain aboard the Bride.
The men at the capstans on the Freeport vessel continue to strain, and the line connected to the lobsterman continues to be reeled in...
"Aye aye..." Iscarel sighs, making for the jolly and hauling loose the line.
Quillin is happy to wait and watch. He thinks that he might look into one of those clairvoyance spells when he gets the chance. Maybe he can afford a scroll with his loot stash.
Tipene opens himself to Ocean and follows James and Bek over the side.
Bek will start swimming toward the sea devils, drawing his ranseur as he draws close.
The jolly boat is loaded up with salty sorts and splashes down into the surf. Two of the Bride's crewmen are put to oars as the others keep their weapons and wits about them.
Both from there (as well as from Quillin's lofty perch atop the main deck) things... well... kind of start going all to hell. The lobsterman's line hits some kind of strain and stops ascending, drawing excited barking and the capstan attendants to jam belaying pins into their workings to stop the load descending... as the workers turn to assist with the more critical line... green skinned devilish figures all scale and fin begin to emerge from the water using the chains as a makeshift boarding net. Catch cries and calls sound out in warning to the
In the jolly boat, a few of the shadows below begin to grow larger as though their owners were either growing bigger... or ascending.
Quillin's conjured reefclaw engages the other beast molesting the lobsterboy in melee - a swirling threshing miasma of claw and tooth.
You also notice some devils ascending the chains that have been run from the Freeport vessel, as well as some making for the jollyboat from the Bride that you also see splashdown above you... looks like there's a choice of where and what to engage...
Smudge squawks out a warning from high in the masts, "Dirty Bum! Dirty Bum! Fish sticks up your arse end!"
"Sea devil on the stern!" Quillin translates belaying any action at the moment except making sure there a re several sailors between he and the stern.
Catch cries and calls sound out in warning to the Freeport vessel from the crew.
At Quillin's additional warning of incoming scales unto the Bride, Lanteri draws steel and moves astern at point of a small knot of burlier men than the gnome.
Tipene closes with the sea devils on the lobsterman, leading with the sharp end of his war club. Even raging, he has the presence of mind to keep his war cries to himself and save his breath, but his glare is furious enough.
Iscarel draws his blade, rocking the jolly as he makes for his feet. "Keep rowing. These rubes might need a rescue." Blinking back the salt spray as the roar of the ocean overpowers his senses, Iscarel fixes on the approaching shadow. Ai eleana, I need a drink.
James watches the others' gliding through the water with ease and tries to keep up.
Bek kicks hard and propels himself through the water, leading with his ranseur. He angles himself to crash into the sea devils by the lobsterman, bearing to the left of Tipene.
Resetting of the stage and scene:
The lobsterman deployed by your Freeportian associates is under attack beneath the waves by green sea devils. The same devils are assaulting both your ship and theirs - the Corvid Bride by the aft railings and the Freeport vessel by the chain lines that have been run down to pull to surface whatever the lobsterman found.
Bek, Tipene and Rackham have gone to the waters and below (though both Bek and Tipene are outspeeding their less swimmingly compatriot).
Iscarel has sallied forth with crewmen aboard the jolly to bring the fight from above the waves.
The one sane parrot amongst you, and his attendant gnomish gentleman, has kept to the Bride and behind a wave of humanity directing the fight against the devils there.
Beneath the waves:
Bek surges to engage, but the effort expended in closing the distance spoils his aim and he can't find purchase enough to cut and rend.
Tipene has better luck, clouting one of the bastards about the head and sending it thrashing into a frenzy.
Rackham can't keep up with the pace of his brethren - though he has the best view as the devils focus yet still upon the lobstermen and leave the piratical sardines unassaulted.
Jolly boat:
With other crewmen in charge of propelling the vessel forwards and towards the Freeport chains, Iscarel seeks and finds a target of opportunity - slipping his blade into the neck of a devil that surges up and transfixing it enough for another crewman's blade to leave it limp to slide back into the waters.
Hinsin's well coiffed hair begins to bedraggle as he wrests his own blade out of a devil in the water on the opposite side of the jolly. He bellows "Keep t'wards the chains mates." giving Iscarel a nod as he turns back to the brine to ware against further ascending beasts.
Corvid Bride:
Quillin's aloft ears and warning mean that the crewmen still aboard the Bride are able to meet the boarding devils in good form and file. From his supervisory post he figures that unless the tide turns the boys and girls should be able to handle the bastards without too much risk of disembowelment or disfigurement.
Tipene is unable to land his followup blow, temporarily blinded by the cloud of blood from his target. He bares his teeth in a silent snarl at the devil.
The roar of the waves drowning out his curses and only worsening his headache, Iscarel brandishes his rapier with an impatient snarl, unwilling to risk swimming over open water until they reach the chains.
James surfaces by the Freeport vessel, scrambling up the chain to slash at one of the monstrous boarders.
Face me, fiend!
Quillin maintains his spectatorial outlook, but if a chance presents itself, he'll toss as acid dart at a scaly sod that moves out of melee.
Bek tries to stick his foe with his ranseur once again. This time, his strike seems more true.
Quillin thinks he spies an opening and sends a acid dart scything t'wards it... but finds he only skims the arse of one of his compatriots. Luckily the misfire is lost in the ebb flow and swirl of the shipboard combat - which looks to be settling the way of the Bride's crewmen.
Underwater Bek makes up for Tipene's wayward strike to cut a seadevil deeply. Quillin's summoned reefclaw adds insult to that injury and rends it away from the metal encased lobsterman. Though you cannot see within the suit - the cumbersome arms of it begin to move and it resumes ascending.
Rackham swims towards the Freeport vessel, but doesn't quite have the stroke length to be able to make tangible impact this round.
Iscarel readies a strike against another of the scaly bastards to breach the surface - but when one presents itself the roll of the jolly beneath him means his thrust is o'erhigh and slays only the air above the bugger's head.
Quillin whistles tunelessly and looks preoccupied inspecting the mast after the near friendly fire incident. If the crew appear to have things in hand, he just watches the show, but with a pinch of colored sand at hand should any uglies get too close for comfort.
Tipene doesn't pursue the fleeing sea devils, but instead makes for the surface.
"They're turning tail. Have they done it?" Iscarel fastens a line around his waist, ready to dive in if the situation requires.
The jollyboat continues on it's rowed path towards the Freeport vessel.
Bek doesn't pursue the fleeing sea devils, but looks to see if the wreck is nearby before surfacing. Once done looking he ascends with the lobsterman to make sure he is safe.
Bek sees the wreck beneath him, but he'd need to swim down and away from everyone else to get near or into it. The battle's swirled up some sediment which makes it difficult to get fine detail, but he reckons that the load being brought up by the chains is a single piece of furniture?
-Posted with Wayfinder
Oh what the hell. I'm curious what they're bringing up at least. Bek kicks his way back down to see if he can get a closer look at the load and if the sediment around the ship settles at all by the time he gets there.
The scene continues to play out as expected - those of the Bride break the back of their boarding party to send the sea devils staggering backwards in retreat as the jolly boat continues it's way over towards the Freeport vessel - reaching the chains to find Rackham having ensconced himself upon a chain to harry the last of the sea devils remaining. The decks of the Freeport tug are slick with water and blood themselves, though the arrival of fresh salts and the press of those already there form a similar result in making the remaining green scaled bastards apt to flee rather than remain.
Now I'm really curious. Bek swims closer to the strange coffin or whatever it is to see if there are any visible markings.
Quillin stays safely centered by the foremast far from teh reach of random sea devil or rogue wave.
"All clear, Smudge?" he calls to his gray feathered familiar playing look out.
Tipene climbs aboard and, if the sea devils are gone, lets go of Ocean. He sinks to the deck, panting in exhaustion.