Kerruk bids a hearty farewell to Grok, Fishguts, Jack and Tap and wanders out on deck to spend sometime alone with the stars and his osprey, his mind busy with mutinous speculations.
So Plugg has an enforcer superior to that fool Fipps, does he? Therein lies a threat and an opportunity: I must talk with Jack and Tap...and Arden, if she is willing - she is an unknown, that one! - about steps that might be taken with regard to this Owlbear Hartshorn. Is he loyal, or simply an opportunist? But we must not push too far too soon...we have made such a great beginning. The crew of the ship...they are like a rotten spar, ripe for splitting in a hard wind...
Kerruk muses quietly, but not unhappily, his thoughts drifting away from the Wormwood to go gliding and then cavorting amidst the giddy whirl of the glorious heavens...Feeling restored and optimistic for the first time since Port Peril, he makes his way to bed.
Jack guffaws at Grok's story, and eyes Fishguts with more respect. Needs more garlic! Well, Master Kroop, it does seem that I was wise to put myself under thy instruction; a cook and master of a martial art, it seems. Indeed, perhaps we need more butter, and garlic aboard this vessel.[b]
Jack turns to Grok, looking more serious. [b]Owlbear you say? No, I did not speak with him. Nor did he seem to notice me, despite my fair countenance, and it did not seem just to break his repose. How came he aboard this ship? Forcefully conscripted as well? It seems unlikely.
Grok nods. Aye; word is they found 'im in tha streets and Cap'n brought 'im along. That fella's got it rough, ta be sure - got nothin' to 'is name but 'is clothes an a club, far as I know. The crew's a bit rough on 'im too, see in' as e's a bit simple. They tarred an' feathered 'in not a week ago; he played it off as a joke, but I know it hurt. Fishguts catches 'imcrabs every now an' again- probably 'is only friend!
All that you know of Peppery Longfarthing is that she is the ship's Mage and a close confidant of the Captain's.
You don't see anything from under the door that would fit under and be of use - everything interesting would be too large to fit. From afar, your spectral hand attempts to work the handle of the lock. Though it lacks the fine manipulation of a normal hand, it's able to push up on the lever, which doesn't move. Immediately, the handle and lock sparks blue and white with electricity, giving off a quick and loud "snap!"
As you concentrate on the lock, you see the faint glow of an aura, which grows a bit stronger as you concenrate. The alarm is, indeed, still active.
Jack wanders the alleys of port-town in the rain, looking for his dog. His father, in as black a mood as ever after drink, had kicked and beaten it for having spilled his beer. The dog had run out into the alley, after taking two hard kicks to the head, and had gone. His father had been unappeased, and took it out on Jack. His ears stinging, Jack ahd ducked under his father's reach, and ran after....
Jack awakes with a start, to see Tap tiptoeing to his hammock. Jack waves him over, and whispers, Tap, where hast thou been a'romping? No, don't answer. I cannot sleep, for thinking of that poor soul Owlbear. Tarred and feathered was he by his own crew not so long ago. I cannot think but that he might still be in pain. Canst thou help him somewhat? His is muscle that I would have for us rather than 'gainst.
The next morning dawns as the last had - with many friendly greetings among the dark and menacing glares. The ship is a bit rockier this morning; were you not becoming practiced sailors you'd not have noticed. But, with your new experience, you can easily tell that the sea is a bit more choppy today.
Before Plugg can give out his daily tasks, Jack Scrimshaw runs up onto the deck, out of breath and face ashen.
Plugg nods and sends Scrimshaw back into line with a scowl. He begins to look about the deck for something, then points out four individuals..Arden, Kerruk, Taptap, and Jack. You four...go head down to tha' bilges; it's rat-catchin' day for you. He turns and continues bellowing orders down the line, obviously expecting his orders to be obeyed without question.
Hey Jack did you see something? Well, guess we be bilgers.
Kerruk grimaces and makes his way towards the lower decks. Before he heads off, he murmurs to Tap:Something bit Scrimshaw...something big, apparently. Plugg no doubt wishes to test our mettle or get rid of us. Or both.
In that case Im gonna stop by and grab my long stick.
Jack whispers, I fear that we will not like what we find; hear me, we must not come out of this injured or vulnerable. I will go down to the kitchen and fetch some rotten fish for bait, and the fishhooks and twine from my pack. We may be able to lay a trap.
Aye. If it is not too big then ive a sleep charm that may help. but how come a creature below deck? Tap whispers.
Sometimes vermin find their way aboard when a ship is in port...I guess that is what has happened...
Kerruk trails off, doubt plain on his face. Well, whatever it is, it must be faced.
Jack whispers. The bilge sits at the bottom of the ship, and so all errant streams drain there; it is wet. Even on a good clean ship, well maintained, the bilge is not a place one likes to stay long; the air is bad, and the weight of the sea will make the ship groan. On a ship such as this one, it will not be pleasant. I have candles in my bag. We can light them on the cooking fire.
It's probably some star-cursed giant rat or angry eel, given the state of this cursed tub.
Kerruk snorts a bit sourly. It's probably some star-cursed giant rat or oversized angry eel, knowing this ill-fated tub.
And as he descends the ladders leading belowdecks, he can be heard praying quietly. Stars be with me, stars be with me, stars shine upon me
If we come out fine, Ill visit Skrimshaw and see to his wound.
The lowest deck of the ship, the bilges are a foul, damp place. Upon entering down the ladder, the intense heat and stench immediately assaults your senses. Thick cobwebs cover the uppermost foot or so of this chamber, and 1-2 feet of dark brackish water that stinks abominably, cover the bottom. The trap door from the lower hold seems to be the only way down, and the room is unlit.
Arden squints against the darkness, her half-elven eyes searching. There's debris in the water...crates, perhaps. And, a line of manacles are attached to the forward bulkhead. It's too dark for even my eyes to see more.
Jack takes the lantern from Grok, tying one end of his sturdy twine to the handle. He carefully lowers it through the hatch, as the others peer down. Arden, a little light to aid thy fair half-elven eyes. What see-est thou now?
Definitely crates; it appears some have been broken or chewed through. There are a teeth and claw marks on them. The manacles hang empty of course, but I'd imagine they got some use with that poor fool Jakes.
Jack draws up the twine, so that the lantern swung a little more than head high above the water. He cuts the twine with his knife, and ties the end to a nearby post. Then, from the jar he carried down from the kitchen, he pulls out the stinking head of a small fish, caught and butchered for last night's meal. Then he measures out another bit of twine, and cuts it. He jabs the hook into the head of fish, and ties one end of the line to the fish, and the other to the same post. Jack judges to have about 3 ells of twine left. He lowers the fish into the water below, until the line is taut. He can full the slosh of the water pull the line in his hand.
I know not what is down there, and I no not whether I can catch it so, but I'd rather have it on the end of a hook, than otherwise!
Jack, that is clever of you. Tap whispers.
Are the manacles the means by which we might descend, like a rope? If your fish trap fails, I can scout down.
Arden shakes her head. No, there is a rope ladder, but it hangs back; here.... She reaches through the trap door, bending to get her whole upper half in, then releases a rope ladder with a grunt. The ladder swings out, stirring the dark water. She comes back up and nods. Jack must have gotten it stuck in his haste to escape.
but not that clever
When the line hits the water, there's no sound for several moments. After a time, the sloshing of water can be heard below, followed by the scratching of nails on wood. Something tugs on the line, as if experimentally. Then, with a sudden tug, the end of the twine loosens; when pulled up the hook and fish are gone.
Arden frowns in frustration. I could see swirling water, but whatever it was was concealed by it. I think we'll have to go in.
Curse it to Hades. Have I forgotten my craft? Can a seamen not tie nought but a grief knot? Tap, ready thy mage hand for me, for I will go down, curse it. Though Grok's lantern is a blessing.
He pulls his knife from its sheath, and bites down on the handle as he grabs hold of the rope ladder, and descends. The lantern swings gently back and forth, throwing waxing and waning shadows moving in an odd confusion. Further down, he can make out the bobbing of broken crates, and the frayed end of his twine. The fish hook was gone. Letting go of the ladder, Jack lands in the water with a small splash. He readies his knife.
Tap casts Magw Hand and points down as a hand carries the lantern near Jack.