For a city founded upon bloody combat traditions, Tymon is surprisingly placid. Weapons are invariably peace-bonded, there is a lack of muscle-flexing machismo in the streets — even public disputes are scarcer than in comparably large settlements. The Rule of law is strong here perhaps, or else violent urges are simply sated vicariously through the famed Arena of Aroden.
Whatever the cause, little impedes the swift journey to Smine’s Weaponworks. The sound of ringing steel and the withering heat of the forge through an open sliding door identify the stone structure as readily as its well-painted but soot-stained sign. Several apprentices work blades in various stages of completion, and at the largest work area toils the famed River Kingdoms weapon smith (and secret Venture-Captain), Holgarin Smine.
He glances up under singed eyebrows, never missing a beat as he says, "Ah. It’s you. A moment."
After putting some final touches on a spearhead, quenching it in water, and nodding approvingly after a brief appraisal, he unties his apron and opens the door into the adjoining building.
Within a few minutes, VC Smine has set out a simple (but delicious) plate of bread and cheese in a much cooler kitchen, inviting all of you in with a wave.
“Forgive me for not asking about your journey. Love the details, but those can wait. I want to discuss a rare opportunity for the Society.”
Smine speaks in broken sentences, reminiscent of the staccato clanging of the adjacent forge. He pulls a stack of letters from beneath a false bottom in the kitchen drawer and waves it in his hand.
“I received the latest one just yesterday. It’s from the Black Marquis — leader of a band of brigands surreptitiously known as the Pirate Pact.”
You believe the Black Marquis’ real name is Bazzak.
Yes, Urdul Bazzak the Black Marquis claims a swathe of land along the banks of the Sellen River, north of the tiny hamlet of Deadbridge to the Numerian border.
“In all of these missives, he claims to need our help and offers us The Memoirs of the Silver Brotherhood, a rare text — maybe the rarest — in exchange.”
“I’m sending you north to Deadbridge, near the Echo Wood to meet this Black Marquis and offer him your help with whatever it is he needs. I want that book, and you’ll get it for me.”
You recall the Echo Wood holds the infamous Emerald Spire and Thornkeep dungeons.
However, those notorious delves are situated in the western end of the Wood. Deadbridge is in the east, far from Hellknights and urban goblins (hopefully).
"But first I would hear the names and experience of those I would send – and you may answer me this!"
(& the services of the Society?)
|
"My time with the Society has had me investigating the multiple demonic and dark presences. I was part of the team at Carrion Hill, and Saringallow. Cultist summoning old powers beyond their control. Needless to say, both places were traumatic and I would rather spare the group the details. Though I have copies of the reports if you want further information."
Baozi is a 7 foot tall man. There is a family rumour that there is giant blood in their ancestry, but then again they say there are angles in their lineage as well. All of this is clearly fantasy.
He wears a long beige trenchcoat, beneath which are multiple weapons and vials. He is half-Ulfen and half-Tien. He speaks low and softly most of the time and he is accompanied by a small bat.
|
While Garduk and the other Pathfinders wait for Smine to finish working on his new weapon, the scrawny half-orc in ill-fitting traveling clothes sidles into an out-of-the-way corner and slips a thick book out of his pack. Leaning against the wall, he flips the volume open to a page marked with a strip of cloth and begins to read. The title and author are visible in faded silver text on the battered cover: In the Council of Corpses, by Alison Kindler.
When the Venture Captain calls the group to follow him, Garduk sighs, reluctantly replaces his bookmark and returns the novel to his haversack.
At Smine's mention of the Black Marquis and the Pirate Pact, Garduk quickly pulls a book out of his pack - different from what he was reading while they waited - and begins flipping through it.
He also tries to remember anything he knows about Deadbridge or the Echo Wood.
Garduk introduces himself in a gravelly voice with a thick northern accent, "I'm Garduk the ... I'm Garduk. I study magic. I focus on summoning, I guess, but I'm interested in just about everything. Mostly self-taught, but I do all right. Done a fair amount of work down south, in Sargava and the Mwangi, but my last few missions have been in Absalom." He scowls. "It's like the director of the Blakros Museum goes out of his way to get into trouble."
He shakes his head and refocuses on the most important thing VC Smine has said so far. "What," he growls, "are The Memoirs of the Silver Brotherhood? Why is it so important? And what gods-forsaken haven for nightmares are we going to be sent to? This Urdal Bazzak, or Black Marquis if that's what he's called, wouldn't give it up if the job weren't going to be ... sticky." He pauses for a moment. "We don't need to go into Thornkeep, do we? Or -" Garduk shudders "the Emerald Spire?"
“Don’t bother about the reports Agent … Baozi? Or do you prefer Bouncer?”
VC Smine sits up in his chair with a new respect for the Investigator.
“The incidents you refer to in Eastern Ustalav and Isger have reached my ears here in Tymon — very unsettling stuff.”
“I bet it cost him an arm and a leg.”
“Very good, Agent Garduk.”
The weapon smith nods. “I might have to keep an eye on the careers of this group.”
“Yes, poor Nigel. He does tend to make rather a hash of things. Though one person’s troubles can provide lucrative opportunities for another ...”
Holgarin Smine’s eyes sparkle. “I think it unlikely Thornkeep or the Emerald Spire are in your immediate futures. The Black Marquis’ Protectorate lies much further east, north of Deadbridge.”
“This … Black Marquis … wouldn't give it up if the job weren't going to be ... sticky.”
“Well it is a pirate’s dirty work I’m sending you to do. But you’re Pathfinders, and we set the gold standard in that department.”
“What are The Memoirs of the Silver Brotherhood?”
The smith mutters something under his breath about How in his day, apprentices didn’t ask so many dang questions about things that didn’t concern them …
But then he smiles and continues. “The Master of Scrolls believes it to be a tome detailing the social and arcane experiments of an order of purist monastics, who rule an empire on a technologically-advanced planet beyond our own galaxy.”
Smine *winks* “And VC Shaine is never wrong, right?”
|
|
“Very good, Agent Garduk.”
In response to the praise from the Venture Captain, Garduk’s face, which has deep scars along each cheek running almost from ear to mouth, splits into a horrific grimace. If anyone present had worked with him before, they might have interpreted it as a surprised grin.
His expression quickly lapses back into his usual scowl.
”Sounds ... not much worse than usual, actually. Sir.”
|
Looking up at the others, the tiny wayang waits to introduce himself. He becomes distracts by the immense human. Now THAT is a canvass. It would take months just to cover his back.
He snaps out of his reverie before he is caught staring. "Um yes...hello. I am ...er...Wisp. Well, not Erwisp as that would be weird. Just Wisp. As to my previous um...work? Let's see. I was accused of murder while helping a circus. Ooh, there was the time I went to an island to stop an invasion by wayangs. I mean, not me because I am already here, obviously. They were trying to come through a portal and were going to take over...uh...the world...or plunge it into ...ah...eternal darkness some such. Hmm. Those don't exactly cast me in the best light do they? Can you come back to me?"
|
|
Looking up at the others, the tiny wayang waits to introduce himself. He becomes distracts by the immense human. Now THAT is a canvass. It would take months just to cover his back.
He snaps out of his reverie before he is caught staring. "Um yes...hello. I am ...er...Wisp. Well, not Erwisp as that would be weird. Just Wisp. As to my previous um...work? Let's see. I was accused of murder while helping a circus. Ooh, there was the time I went to an island to stop an invasion by wayangs. I mean, not me because I am already here, obviously. They were trying to come through a portal and were going to take over...uh...the world...or plunge it into ...ah...eternal darkness some such. Hmm. Those don't exactly cast me in the best light do they? Can you come back to me?"
He goes through his gear and pull a tape-measure out of his kit and walks behind Bouncer. Realizing he is not tall enough, he leaves and comes back with a small crate. He climbs on top and begins to take measurements of the man. He scribbles figures down with the occasional whistle. "That's gonna be a lotta ink." When he notices the others looking in his direction, he lets the tape-measure fall limp. He looks behind himself to find out what is holding there attention. He slowly looks back to the Pathfinders, leans in close and whispers, "What are you looking at?" Wisp again casts his gaze over his shoulder before shrugging and going back to work.
|
Almaas is a young Dwarf from an Osiriani merchant family that always felt that community, tradition and fairness are the values that should be inherently present in any civilisation.
Thus, he embraces the lessons of Erastil and tries to use his family fortune to bring prosperity through fair trade.
He can be a stoic negotiator but has an empathic approach. He is very perceptive and understands people's motives which is very important to him as a merchant and a pillar of his community.
He typically wears no armor and during battle usually tries to use his bow to attack but also uses his legs and fists if necessary.
Almaas has two elder brothers, Sadaf and Toral, who also are members of the Pathfinder Society.
|
|
Almaas is more the silent type and listens to your discussions.
"I see that a lot of martial and magical prowess has gathered here! I want you all to know that I see us as a team ... and a team is a small community for which I will give my live blood to protect. It is an honor to explore at your side! May our joint cooperation lead us to discoveries that we report for the glory of the Pathfinder Society!" Almaas says in a calm voice.
“Erastil’s Untrodden Lawn! ‘Justwisp’ sounds as strange as ‘Erwisp’ to my ears.”
VC Smine sighs and reassures his latest apprentice. "The Pathfinder Society has built a reputation for tolerance, Agent."
"Your ancestry — and fetish for elevated human backs concerns me ..... not at all."
|
A refined, if rather short, human Tien woman enters at the back of the group, eyes roaming over her surroundings. She has visited more forges than most nobles, and notes this one to be running quite smoothly (by comparison, if nothing else).
She's new to the area, apparently. She is content to soak up her half-orc comrade's knowledge in this matter. She also makes a note to keep an eye behind her, in case the wayang attempts to climb her back if he is unsatisfied with his current, brawny mark.
Smiling, she turns to the smith.
"I have blinded a minotaur in single combat and forced his retreat, and aided in preserving Cassomir from the grasp of Groteus. You may call me Lady Vulpina." She favors Smine with a polite bow from the waist.
|
|
"Your ancestry — and fetish for elevated human backs concerns me ..... not at all."
Wisp looks up, eyes moving back and forth a moment. With a nod to himself, "Great! You're next. Did you want to come over here or should I bring my crate to you?" It would seems he asks this in all seriousness.
In fluent Tien, the wayang offers...
"Greetings Mistress Fox. Would you like some artwork as well? I wouldn't even have to shave you. Unless of course you wanted the tattoo to show in kit form. How would that work I wonder. We'll have to talk later."
|
|
Garduk listens to the human and the wayang without understanding.
Are they speaking Tien? How have I never taken the time to learn it?
He watches them for a few moments, ignoring the banter. Her job is clear enough from her weapon and the way she carries herself: find the target, stick holes in it. But what's the wayang's part? Why is he measuring the big man - is he some kind of tailor? Everybody needs a hobby,I guess.
"Great! You're next. Did you want to come over here or should I bring my crate to you?"
“While I am not a follower of Abadar, nor will I have any dang bush lawyers in my shop.” VC Smine is quite adamant about this.
“I have always waited for a customer to accept my offer — no matter how generous or well-intentioned, before offering to shift me crate.”
"I have blinded a minotaur in single combat and forced his retreat.”
“Ah, I suspect we have (another) friend of Janira Gavix in our midst.”
"And aided in preserving Cassomir from the grasp of Groteus.”
“Were you part of the team sent into the Swift, Vulpina?”
Smine seems to see the pistol-swash in a new light. “I hear the forge burned mighty hot in that place. Musta been quite the job to quench it.”
“I am pleased to have you as part of this crew, Milady.”
|
|
”I must wonder at this point if all Venture-Captains acquaint one another, Mister Smine, or if you are simply particularly well-connected,” teases Vulpina, ”and yes, that would be the very one. We lost one of our number to a rather dangerous foe, even for myself, but thanks to the efforts of Cassomir’s clergy, we were able to resurrect him... and I now have a Paladin whose life is balanced upon my account.”
Her smile after this last sentence seems more playful than malicious; she doesn’t have anything terrible in mind for him. Well, nothing more terrible than what Pathfinders go through on a daily basis.
Regardless, she offers a small bow. ”Pleased to be of service. We will see your concern handled and the tome into the Archives as surely as the Worldwound needs mending.”
“I must wonder at this point if all Venture-Captains acquaint one another, Mister Smine, or if you are simply particularly well-connected”
Smine chuckles. “We’re about as well connected as Confirmed Field Agent Gavix is with new Initiates, Vulpina.”
“In all seriousness though, many Seekers and more recent Venture-Captains have had the chance to purchase some of my wares directly from the source.”
He smiles modestly. “I like to think they hold a soft spot for Old Sminey as a result.”
“And who knows, if each of you continues to build experience within the Society, mebbe one day you’ll get the same opportunity.”
“Mebbe not as much as Vicar Jhod Kavken up in the Stolen Lands likes Old Deadeye.”
VC Smine taps the side of his nose and gives Wisp a hard stare. “But my hide be cured thick enough to take it.”
“Now unless any of you young ‘uns got more questions, it’s time I pushed off back to forge and left you to your final provisions.”
|
|
Almaas raises an eyebrow.
"I will forgive any disrespect towards Erastil like a father who patiently waits for his children to grow up. But we need to stick together like family and I hope that although we might have different views we will face these pirates and their potential schemes as one team! Can I trust you to COOPERATE?" Almaas asks expectantly.
|
|
Garduk listens, puzzled, to the others quizzing the Venture Captain. Finally, he growls, "Of course they talk about us - wouldn't you be worried about how they picked us for missions if they didn't?"
Speaking of which... The half-orc looks around the room at the other Pathfinders, then eyes the dwarf speculatively. This one talks like a priest, sort of. But none of the god-talkers I've gone on missions with have introduced themselves by talking about blood.
"... Can I count on you to COOPERATE?"
The dwarf's voice booms out over the sound of hammering from the nearby forges. Garduk nods thoughtfully in response.
Hrmmm. I'm glad he's on our side. But still... priest? Or just a zealot with a bow?
Garduk nervously checks the wand of infernal healing tucked into one of the spring-loaded wrist sheaths he wears under each sleeve. Reliable, but infernally slow when one needs it most. He clears his throat.
"Captain Sminey ... er, Smine? Speaking of provisions, is there a quartermaster nearby? Or a church? I could stand to buy a couple more healing potions before we leave."
"Do not worry Garduk the Unteachable. Sarenrae will provide. Apologies for my tardiness; the camel caravan I was traveling with encountered road obstructions," says a newly arrived Keleshite woman bearing the livery of a priestess of the Dawnflower.
"That is beyond the powers I have been granted by Sarenrae, Vulpina. I recommend you take actions to keep all your limbs intact during our endeavors," says Kyra, a coy smile turning the corner of her lips upwards.
--------------
"Our beasts were disembarked in Absalom, alas. Upon your return you may witness the sight of them, as the city has large pens full of camels."
---------------
"Humility is the path to redemption. You honor me." says Kyra, bowing back to the Erastilian.
|
|
Tradition? The Old Bastard talked a lot about tradition. More like he shrieked about tradition, usually while covered in someone else's blood.
Garduk's scarred face twists into a gruesome scowl. After a moment, he realizes that his hands have clenched into fists. He inhales slowly, then exhales, forcing his body to relax.
Calm down, stupid. It's safe to assume that Erastil's traditions are different. As are the Dawnflower's.
"Captain Sminey ... er, Smine? Speaking of provisions, is there a quartermaster nearby? Or a church? I could stand to buy a couple more healing potions before we leave."
“If yer daring enough, Garduk I might answer to ‘O Captain, My Captain.’” Smine grins.
“There’s a small chapel to Our Lord of Iron near the Arena of Aroden. The priests do a good service for the town there on Game Days.”
“If you can’t find what you want, there’s always Daggermark in the morn. There’s a big brew house of the Drunken Hero there and another temple dedicated to the Blackfingers Norgorber if it's Him what floats yer boat.”
VC Smine rises, frowns and then pulls another three letters from the kitchen’s false drawer. “Nearly forgot.”
“I was asked to pass along Faction Missions to Garduk, Wisp and Lady Vulpina. Maybe they’ll have useful background for you?”
“But remember, your Faction Head’s nonsense mustn't interfere with the main mission. If you do their jobs but I don’t get me book, I won’t be best pleased. Got it?”
In the morning, the party travels overland to the neighboring city or Daggermark. There you are directed to the docks area where a river barge waits to ferry you north along the Sellen River, to the aptly named village of Deadbridge, a rundown hamlet partially built on wharves.
In an antique manor house you meet with Urdul Bazzak, the Black Marquis.
“I rule the Pirate Pact and with it the stretch of the Sellen River between here and Numeria,” states the portly man proudly.
“The waterways are the lifeblood of the River Kingdoms, so you must understand that any menace to the river is a menace to the balance of power.”
The Black Marquis stops and quickly looks to his left and right before leaning in and continuing in a hushed tone. “Unless someone deals with this threat soon, I could lose everything.”
“Normally I would rely on my most trusted lieutenants, but …” Bazzak sits up, regains some composure, and resumes.
“I found a map marking an Azlanti treasure vault deep within the Echo Wood. That’s where I sent my most trusted lieutenants. Only, on their way they were waylaid by spiders and abominations and only one returned alive.”
“Sondrah Fiddleproud sent out another ship upon her return, the Hanspur’s Luck to search for my men. The Luck hasn’t returned either.”
Bazzak points to the only other person in the room, a muscular chestnut-haired halfling standing in a corner. “Lady Fiddleproud is my most trusted second, and she will take one o’ my best ships and guide you back to the Azlanti vault.”
“Rid the river of these monstrous spiders, find the Hanspur’s Luck, and uncover the whereabouts of my men, and the ‘Silver Brotherhood’ book is yours.”
“Do it quickly, do it quietly, and do it before the rest of the Pact realize I’ve sent my best men on fools’ errands that may have killed them all.”
“Straight forward ain’t it?”
|
|
Almaas steps forward.
"I like that you are concerned about your men. I do not like that you are only concerned about them because your position of power will erode if your crew knows the truth about this mission."
Almaas pauses for a moment.
"Tell us more about how these spiders affect the waterways which are the lifeblood of the River Kingdoms! And also tell u more about this Azlanti treasure vault please."
“Listen, Dwarf. You don’t tell me how to run me Protectorate, and I don’t tell you how to find the quickest way to the bottom o’ the nearest keg o’ yak pis…”
“MY LORD!” Lady Fiddleproud interrupts, her mouth agape.
“The Pathfinders are guests, here at your invitation. Perhaps we should address them with more respec…”
Bazzak explodes in a torrent of spit.
|
|
Almaas looks at the marquis as if he were a child.
”You are a man in need of assistance. I assume you understand that the treasure will be ours ... our community will prosper because of this. Your community will prosper because your men will be saved and you are still the boss. I believe this to be a fair deal!“
|
|
Garduk reads the note, and sighs in exasperation. "Oh, that's just..."
All I want is the chance to study dangerous artifacts and ancient lore of things mankind was never meant to know. Is that so much to ask?
Before they leave on the mission, Garduk buys a handaxe (6gp), some canvas (0.1gp), and a ball of twine (0.01gp). He carefully wraps the sharp head of the axe in a strip of the canvas, ties the makeshift cover on with some twine, and shoves the axe, leftover canvas, and twine into his haversack.
Like you're gonna use that.
Garduk looks around the room, hoping one of the other Pathfinders will say something, then steps up next to Almaas.
"Almaas is right. We should focus more on getting your men back, and less on the -" Garduk tries to keep the desperate curiosity out of his voice "- Azlanti vault, and whatever mysterious and ancient artifacts it may contain. Lady Fiddleproud, spiders we can deal with, but what about these 'abominations' - what did you see?"
Garduk tries to smile, and instead bares his feral teeth in a horrific grimace.
|
|
Vulpina snatches the letter with remarkable speed and stows it. She will read it later, in privacy. "Thank you, Captain."
Prior to their departure, she sees what she can do to track down a set of surgeon's tools... and a couple extra doses of antivenom. Unfortunately, her pockets are rather... light, of late. She spends the rest of the night seeming a bit irritated.
--------------------------------
As the scene unfolds, Vulpina takes careful note. She is not as impressed with Bazzak as she hoped; she expected something a little more out of a storybook. When it comes right down to it, she admits to herself that she's mostly concerned about his two eyes. Moreover, he looks a little too plain for a proper marquis (having visited two proper marquises just recently). It's the hat, mainly.
That said, she knows full-well that looks can be deceiving.
For now, she leaves the conversation to Almaas.
“I believe this to be a fair deal!“
“There’s folk that believe Golarion is a giant ball o’ rock spinning like a top as it travels ‘round the sun.”
Bazzak’s tone is menacingly calm. “But that don’t make it true.”
"What about these 'abominations' - what did you see?"
“Bhí sé mar a tháinig an foraoise beo agus ghlac siad iad.”
Bazzak interprets the halfling's words. "'It was like the forest came alive and took ‘em.'"
Lady Fiddleproud looks away from the party and stares into space, before continuing slowly in Taldane. “You ask any o’ me crew. I ain’t afraid of any man. But there was something … something out there waiting for us …”
“And it weren’t no man.”
“We should be ready.”
“Wise words.” The Black Marquis grunts.
"Any other questions? If not, you are to meet Lady Fiddleproud on the Sandbar Scorpion at the docks in two hours."
|
|
“Bhí sé mar a tháinig an foraoise beo agus ghlac siad iad.”
Bazzak interprets the halfling's words. "'It was like the forest came alive and took ‘em.'"
Lady Fiddleproud looks away from the party and stares into space, before continuing slowly in Taldane. “You ask any o’ me crew. I ain’t afraid of any man. But there was something … something out there waiting for us …”
“And it weren’t no man.”
Garduk pulls a thick book out of his haversack and starts quickly paging through it.
The blue-green wizard nods to himself and mutters, "Some kind of aberration, maybe. Maybe something in the forest is warping the flora and fauna?"
|
|
After the briefing, the wayang seeks out a local alchemist shop. He buys five flasks of acid and five more of Lydrric essence
He also inquires as to how long it would take to reach Deadbridge, and what the presumed hamlet is like.
The alchemist pops Wisp’s purchases in a white cloth bag, tips back his cap and scratches his head. “Depends on which way you were to go.”
“Now if you were to ask me, and most folks do, I’d first head overland to Gralton. There’s a druid there. Goes by the name of Elizious. Seven foot tall. Arms as thick as tree trunks. Shock o’ hair – red – like the fires of Hell.”
“Tends a small field– the Black Garden it’s called – but don’t be fooled by the name. The black refers to the burnt out shell of a farmhouse the druid claimed after a fire tore through the place, back in the winter of oh-and-nine or was it ten?”
“And if Elizious had anything to do with said fire. Well, ser. That be between him and The Lady of Graves. I’d keep me neb outa it if I were you and delight in the raspberries he grows, conserves and spreads on fresh brioche, baked local by a genuine Galtan Duc.”
“There’s heaps o’ exiled Galts in Gralton, see. Most o’ them lucky to have escaped with their heads. An' it’s the sweetest fare you’ll taste this side o’ Woodsedge. And well worth the week it would take you outa your way.”
“Now some’d say the delay be too long, and you could ride a horse or catch a river barge direct and be in Deadbridge in a day and two nights, or two days and a night, depending on whether you left in the morn or the eve.”
“But I tell you straight they’re wrong. Dead wrong! As wrong as four an’ five make nine. Too many folk in a rush these days. Rushing straight to their graves, I say. With no time for relaxing jaunts to Gralton an’ no inkling to enjoy the simple pleasures in life.”
“What’s the hamlet like?”
“Deadbridge, you mean? Shady and brooding.”
He hands over Wisp’s goods and change. “You’ll fit in great.”
|
|
Vulpina heaves a sigh. Aberrations, if Garduk's book was leading him down the right path, tended to be tricky. One had to be clever to slay them quickly... or carry a particularly large and heavy weapon and not worry overmuch about where it strikes, like another half-orc she knew.
"Until then," she offers, giving a slightly more dramatic bow.
She gathers her things and, unless interrupted, will be upon the Sandbar Scorpion about fifteen minutes early.
At the appointed time, you rendezvous with the Sandbar Scorpion, a 50-foot long, single-masted vessel rigged with a lugsail.
Lady Fiddleproud is on the tiny quarterdeck calling orders to a pair of able-bodied sailors in the bows, preparing the boat for departure.
Risk is a lithe, dark-skinned female tiefling. Confident and professional in her actions, she bickers constantly with a tall, one-eyed rake named Wick.
“St Asmod take your eyes! Cannot you even tie a bowline, Wick you lubber!”
“Nay, perhaps you could do it for me, Risk? Then I can go below and help Maria stow the hammocks.”
⛵
“Pay them no mind, mates.” A gnome, clearly proud of his waxed moustache, brushes past the party on the way to the con.
“We’re expecting a proposal any day now. I’m Icurian by the way. Quartermaster of this watch. My job is to steer the ship and help the Captain plot our course.”
His dark eyes sparkle. “Do any of you know how a pirate navigates her ship?”
⚓
Once she has a moment, Captain Fiddleproud welcomes you aboard. This dashing young woman is gifted with undeniable magnetism as she orders her crew to complete their assignments.
"Greetings again. I trust you are ready. We should be underway momentarily."
She turns to Kyra with a smile. "Imam, Mr Tormer has recently been promoted from Ship’s Barber to Surgeon. Would you be interested in assisting him during the cruise?"
"Also, if anyone can cook please pipe up! We could all use a break from Foxe's culinary delights."
"HEARD THAT, CAP'N!" comes a good-natured call from below-decks.
⚑
As you become acquainted with the Scorpion, you note besides the captain, there are six sailors as part of the crew. Three on deck at any time.
"All set, Captain!" Risk finally shouts.
Captain Fiddleproud motions Risk and her mate to cast off the lines and you set off down the river. "And we are off! No turning back now."
|
|
Garduk trails after the gnome. "You don't use the stars, like everybody else?"
"Hrm," he growls, climbing up the ladder behind Icurian. "I guess you're a pretty determined bunch. You probably find your way..."
I've traveled hundreds of miles on foot, in a caravan with Varisian wanderers, and by teleportation when Aram Zey wanted to get us to Bloodcove quickly. But I've never been on a ship until this mission. Not sure I like it, but at least we're just on a river. If we sink, I'll be able to see land while I drown.
The half-orc drums his fingers on the rail anxiously as the ship pulls away from the dock into the center of the river. "Were you on the crew with the group that was attacked, Icurian?"