"If we go below, how are all of you in the water?"
"Not so keen at getting more than my feet wet," Quillin grumbles.
"Might be me getting wet then. We'll see. Maybe the captain has specialists."
"I can swim well enough."
Speculation plays out and fades before night falls and you get your first taste of sleeping on the Bride. Welcoming as she is... she's hardly a loving nighttime companion. Creaks, sways and cramped confines fill the sleeping quarters, and the lack of ventilation soon make the air a steamy soup of humidity and fetid smells. That said, the tiredness of limbs after the first day of proper sailing work means that all are able to get through the night without problems or confrontation.
The next day dawns and work begins anew abovedecks. A fair and unchanging wind mean that the work in the rigging is light, and as there isn't too much to maintain at deck level - even the deckhands get to spend at least a half of their time leaning a rail rather than back bent at labor. Still, the officers and captain keep mostly to themselves - apart from Hinsin offering an occasional wink or smile - leaving you and the rest of the crew in idle company.
Rackham will attempt to shoot the breeze with the cook, if possible.
Curiosity by piqued mysterious mention of lobstermen and potential sunken treasure, Quillin hobnobs with the crew to get more info.
Turns out that Tipene is relatively surprised to find a fellow tulita among the riggers - who spends the vast majority of the day swaying side to side in the crow's nest looking out over the waves.
Quillin's hobnobbing is well received by the crew, and he strikes up a reasonable rapport with the deck crew. A mix of mainly Shackles born folk with a few from further afield sprinkled in. The scuttlebutt is that the Captain will rendezvous with another ship before taking on one of the lobstermen and travelling to the wreck site.
The lobstermen apparently use some kind of metal contraption and suit to help them plumb the depths... a bearded half-elf swears it involves some kind of bound elemental and magic... but the rest of the crew meet that with a fair degree of skepticism. The crew doesn't have much of an idea of what exactly they're seeking... apart from it having something to do with Lanteri's ex.
Iscarel keeps his ear to the ground, but is content to keep to himself in the rigging, enjoying the breeze well above the harsh sea spray, and the sight of the others working hard below. He'll keep to himself unless approached, wanting to size up those on board before playing his hand.
Iscarel finds his isolation respected in the most part, though he does cop a few surreptitious glances and hushed words that he reckons are likely about him.
Bek isn't so much for chatting, though he does try to be a good shipmate with the rest of the crew and makes an unusual, but catchy tune with a pair of river rocks to entertain during rare breaks.
Quillin seems in fine spirits with a warm reception from the crew and the promise of intriguing curiosities and possible treasure ahead. With a twinkle in his eye and flutter of his fingers he prestidigitates a line of phantasmal pink lobsters to dance claw-in-claw in time to Bek's tune and end the song with high arcing dives overboard.
The drums and lobster combo show stir a few chuckles and laughs... as well as a peculiar fixation from a Chelaxian with a concave forhead who stares dumfounded at the dancing crustaceans with salivating maw. His brow is well saddened when they disappear over the side, though the general feeling from the rest of the crew is that your mob should fit in alright.
The next few days pass with relative ease and the comfort that comes from tiring labour combined with deep sleeps. None of the crew seek to establish themselves as superior to yourselves, and neither do any denigrate. Three days into the sail and as the night begins to roll in you look forward to chow and down time... when a thin trail of rising smoke catches your eye near the horizon.
It looks to be coming from the near side of a small jungled island to your fore and starboard.
"Looks like dinner and the show might suffer a disruption tonight." Bek dons his armor, making sure he's ready for a fight.
Strumming out a lazy tune, Iscarel shrugs. "Could well be our lobstermen." the elf muses, nonetheless stowing his harp below deck and fetching his rapier and standing at attention. "That means our pay. Awaiting orders, cap'n."
"Looks like dinner and the show might suffer a disruption tonight." Bek dons his armor, making sure he's ready for a fight.
"Could be some locals that would like to have us over for dinner... or lobstermen though I figured the latter would be on the water not in the jungle."
Horumheb's words ring out in answer to Iscarel's thoughts "No meeting the lobsters for a day yet... and they be in a ship of they own... not on land."
Quillin squints at the island and tries to ponder if he knows either of it or it's like... and comes up specifically blank, though generally informed. It's a sprit of rock and jungle that doesn't rise overfar from the spray nor seem to have a significant breadth. There's a hundred or more of them sprinkled through the Shackles - some left to birds and beasts, some with native villagers of varying degrees of depravity, and some half-settled with colonials and turned to profit of one description or another.
From the looks of it, the gnome figures this one must be somewhere between the second and third descriptions. There are some tree obscured hills which might suggest caves, and enough of a broken shore that there might be a sheltered cove for weighing anchor. At any rate at this distance all you can be sure of is that there isn't a ship of your size there... and neither is there a large township that would've seen the jungle beaten back. There's just smoke, rising from the trees near the shore.
The captain emerges onto deck to respond to the commotion and weighs up both the slowly receding sun as well as the distance to land and suggests "Trim her starboard... we'll pull in close and see if it's worth a trip in the jolly."
Finished with his armor, Bek moves up to the rail to see what he can as the ship approaches. He shields his eyes from the sun and narrows his eyes to get the best look.
The ship draws closer as Bek peers out over the water to try and get a decent idea of what's going on. It's difficult to make out at first, but some details soon come into focus. The smoke is coming from a point a few hundred meters inland of the shore in the midst of a fairly thick jungle. On the shore itself you can make out a bare beach with what looks to be a small village of natives just at the tree line. There's no sign of any vessels beyond a few small outrigger canoes that are likely used for fishing.
The Captain squints at the shoreline and appears to be mulling a decision. A look in the other direction shows a squall building up and coming in as well.
Iscarel glances over his shoulder, running his tongue across his salt-licked lips. "Wind's picking up, cap'n."
Tipene points to one of the huts. "See the body there? Pretty bad torn up."
"What body? You joking around?"
"No, I see it too. A body back beside one of the huts. Right there." Bek points to the location and continues to describe it to both Captain and nearby crew.
Quillin listens to the description and then quips, "That doesn't sound like cannibals then. They wouldn't leave all that good meat rotting on the beach. We gonna take a look?"
James squints, unable to make out any details.
If there's only one body, we should hurry--might be some people there who need our help!
James places his hand on his sword hilt and paces the deck restlessly.
Lanteri eyes the approaching squall and the shoreline in turn, before settling on a somewhat sheltered cove nearby the place where the body is. While she holds some curiosity over the butchered corpse, she snorts at Rackham's charity "Eager to run to your death are you?" before raising her voice "Make for shore, we'll sit leeward in the cove the night." to which Horumheb starts to make manifest her instructions.
To Quillin she adds "We'll check the body... as for the jungle.." shrugging her shoulders somewhat apathetically.
"Captain is right. I've known the jungle to hide worse than dead bodies. Villages too. I'm willing to aid the crew that heads to shore."
"Excellent. I'll remain here whilst you get yourself mauled by a jungle cat." the elf quips, shrinking from the daggers staring back at him. "Ah very well, I shall join you. You'll be needing a good pair of eyes."
"Won't know until we take a look. All aboard, who's going ashore!" The gnome calls for his bird and heads for the jolly boat.
With the rampant volunteering of the freshly acquired crew, you find the rest of the Bride's men and ladies absenting themselves somewhat from the call... making busy with the final tacking to bring the ship into the cove. The squall's still building and coming, but it looks like there's just enough time to get in the jolly and make shore before it vents it's fury... which you set about doing.
The same half-orc lass that rowed you to the ship gets herself nominated to come ashore and babysit the boat while you gallivant around - and as you get lowered to the water Lanteri warns that you'll be expected back aboard before first light on the morrow.
"Not even enough time to fill my wineskin." the elf says, with a sigh. "Let's get this over with. I'll take a closer look. Wait for my signal."
Iscarel, keeping low, will make his way to the nearest building, keeping eyes and ears peeled for signs of life as he presses himself against the huts wall and paces around the village perimeter. He'll fall back to the others if he encounters anything.
Quillin peers at the approaching storm. "We may be better off ashore anyway."
" Ain't that sneaking elfie a quick one? Why don't you take a fly over, Smudge? Make sure he doesn't get himself in trouble again."
"That he is Quillin. I suppose if he wants to scout ahead we should help him, but stay ready to run in to the rescue." Seeing Iscarel wants to scout ahead, Bek stays with the others near where we landed the jolly and waits to be called up to the body.
Rackham draws his sword and keeps pace with the others.
I'm of the opinion we should stay close, until we find out what caused this. But I've learned enough in our time together not to try to talk Iscarel out of anything. Good point, Bek. Let's keep alert for the elf's screams.
James smiles, trying to lighten the mood, but there is an edge of nerves about his movements.
The half orc stays with the boat as you forge your way gently forward... leaving the worst of the forging to the keener Iscarel among you. Smudge takes to the air to find the sightlines further inland blocked by foliage and tree cover - though he does note that the smoke is rising from a spot a couple of hundred meters inland. There doesn't seem to be much in the way of clearings or breaks in the bush.
The body lies near the huts at the tree line, that you can now see only sit two or three deep. At a guess you'd wager a group of 15-30 people lived in the village... depending on how many stacked into each hut. There's no real sign of activity around, and the only 'person' that you can spy at present is the fallen and bloodied man you spotted from the water.
Iscarel gets the best look for the moment, seeing deep cuts in the man's torso and legs akin to claws and the fact his ribcage is about half the thickness it should be suggests something of significant strength was involved. The body's of a mwangi and bears no weapons - just a simple tunic and threadbare trousers.
The elf bounds back, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and a distant look in his beetle-black, sylvan eyes. "Nuuta. He's dead alright. What did that to him doesn't bear thinking about, and where his fellows are...? That I like even less. Let's search the huts and put my mind at ease."
Iscarel reaches for a bow that isn't there, shakes his head, and draws his steel.
The parrot returns to his perch on the gnome's hat. "Blood and Fire! Blood and Fire!"
"I'll help search. Do you think that a closer look at his wounds might tell us what sort of creature killed him?" Bek helps to search the huts.
The Tulita looks back and forth across the scene, harpoon held lazily in one calloused hand. "I don't have the skill for that, but I can follow a trail. You?"
Drawing up to the treeline and the huts, the crew makes a quick reccy and search... while also getting a better look at the body. The body is near torn to pieces, and doesn't have any possessions on it bar it's clothing. The wounds (as best you can make out) look to be from something with large clawed paws, with crushing, tearing and rending all evident. The body doesn't look to have been chewed on though.
The huts are mostly devoid of content, fitted out with the generic chattels of a fishing village that you'd expect. There's little in the way of formal furniture, with sacks and piles of clothes serving as storage. Ferreting through a few piles you get lucky and kick a pouch that's got a slight heft to it.
There's a mess of human trails going this way and back... as you'd expect for a village. There's a single bigger track though that stands out from the others and leads inland... towards where the smoke is coming from...
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The gnome eyes the contents of the pouch eagerly. "Alright, let me see 'em. Not like you lot could tell an agate from an a$$hole."
Tipene ponders the tracks, not really familiar with what might be found in this part of the world.
Quillin is middlingly confident that the gems in question are without a doubt... undoubtedly not a+@@$~@+s... as to exactly what they are - well they aren't cut, but they seem more in line with costume jewelry than majestic stones.
Tipene pores over the tracks for a few minutes... but is left with only a slightly empty head and an impression that the tracks are bear-ish?
James paces again like he did on deck, struggling to make sense of something that could point them in the right direction.
Best take the stones--this poor bastard doesn't have use for 'em any more, and it might buy us some goodwill with the crew. Let's go check out the source of the smoke and see if any survivors are still around. C'mon, we haven't gotten in any trouble yet today, it just doesn't sit well with me.
The young man smiles and looks at the others for their response.
"Bears Tipene?" Not having ever run into a bear, Bek leans over to have a look at the tracks before everyone heads for the smoke. "So that is what bear tracks look like. I'm game for finding the source of the smoke. Let's go."
"You hear that Rackham? Bears. Now we're putting the whole crew in jeopardy."
Hey, I've never seen a bear before. You? And we're not putting the whole crew in jeopardy, just those of us who came ashore. I doubt it'll swim well enough to board the Bride.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Quillin scratches the blue and black braids twisted into his beard. "Bear track, huh? I've always wanted to see an owlbear. I doubt that they range this far south though. Parrotbear maybe. What do you think of that, Smudge?!"
Smudge bobs his head and cackles. "
A bear there was, a bear, a bear!
All black and brown, and covered with hair!
Oh, come, they said, oh come to the fair! Squawk!!"
"Maybe its a tropical bear. Aren't there sun bears in addition to the black and brown kinds?"