Five years. That was the last time the four of you sailed together aboard the Brass Bird, pursued by the Andoran navy. It was the last time any of you saw Captain Renlock.
Fortunately you were set free after only a few months, but Renlock wasn’t so lucky. He spent his last years in jail until an illness claimed his life.
You learned of Renlock’s death from his trusted companion, a clockwork parrot named Cawlo that remained ever at his side. Just a few weeks ago, the bird sought you out to deliver the bad news and a piece of a map. While one side contains a cryptic clue, the other suggested you to travel to this beach on this morning to find the “captain’s most-prized treasure.” So here you are, along with three others, staring at the partially sunken remains of the ship you once called home. The smell of the surf and rotting wood hang heavy in the air, the silence broken only by the screech of far-away gulls on this lonely island north of the Shackles.
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The setting is a seedy bar three weeks prior. The one Renlock's crew made semi-famous by frequenting it after a successful pirating. It isn't doing very well nowadays, but on the anniversary of The Glorious Captain's sacrifice, those who wish to honor him gather there.
But sadly, the old crew that shows up has dwindled in the five years since that fateful day. Last year there were only seven, and you heard recently that Blackheart Bill just got executed after running afould of some royalty in Quadiran territory. So, who knows who will walk through that door this year?
"Prince" Ellen leans an elbow against the bar counter, making easy conversation with the bartender. Even in her "tailless" form, her tail hangs down by her calves, twitching this way and that with playful intrigue.
She'd always had an easy time fitting in with just about any crowd, despite her fine dress. The rumor was that she was the princess from one of the River Kingdoms, a rumor which she did not deny in the slightest and seemed to actively foster with tales of an absent-minded sister who was next in line to the throne.
Prince Ellen, however, was always... quick. Hilariously an idiot, sometimes, but always swift with a pun or a remark, and always quick to jump into the fray, to put herself between danger and the squishier members of the crew.
Previous reunions of the crew had revealed she had gone from the Brass Bird to the Silver Dancer II, the spiritual successor of the first ship she was on-- which was, admittedly, ill-fated as the Brass Bird ever was.
"Did you hear about the lesbian sailor who refused to board small ships? Apparently, she was only interested in galleons!"
Glancing up at the sound, and elderly man giggles. "Ah, that's cause she likes gals!"
The man leans on an elaborately carved staff. His somewhat dirty clothes give away his humble living, but any holes are patched up decently. Eyeing the speaker, his eyes light up.
'That must be the one he called Saltspray' considers the older gentleman.
His mind wanders back to the first time he happened into town during one of these celebrations. Being a hermit by choice, he only ventured into civilization on the rare occasion...the odds of it being...'Right time, Right place.'
He'd stumbled upon a strange half-elf that...tried to borrow a book and some coin. It took more than a bit of flashy magic to drop this ones guard though! Afterwards, they kept in touch and Posh made sure to come every year for these celebrations.
Alas...the half-elf hadn't come around in sometime...and he doesn't appear to have shown today.
"Excuse me miss." he calls to the joker "Have you seen Elsir? I was hoping to get a chance to visit with him."
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Standing in the drizzle, Dev waited outside of the dingy tavern. Why do I keep coming back? Bad enough I got Cap'n Renlock captured. Coming here just brings all that up again. And if anything happened to the remaining crew? May as well dig a patch for me to lay down right next to 'em. What rotten luck when we ran afoul of that witch. He pauses a few more moments, contemplating whether or not he should simply leave. He takes a step down the dock and stops. He shakes his head and turns back. Oh well, no time for recriminations now. There ain't a need to drag them down into this mood of mine me. He slaps a grin on his face and approaches the tavern.
The lithe human tosses open the door, "Avast maties! Hide your girls and lock up yer pearls. The Brass Bird's crew has come ta town!" While dressed as finely as Prince, Devereaux looks slightly out of place in the run-down bar. His dark cloak hangs off shoulders, draping down to mid-calf. Ruffles from his high collared shirt lay atop a crimson vest. Each silver button down the front is polished to a near mirror-like finish.
He surveys the room, "Not the last to arrive I hope." Fewer and fewer every year. Soon it'll just be me. I wonder if I will still keep coming?
"Oh, heck," says Ellen, hopping up onto a stool, which wobbles beneath her as she walks it in a quick circle-- much to the bartender's dismay. A hand meets her brow as she peers over the group; she drops back down into the seat with a shrug.
"Haven't seen him, and I've still got my coin purse, so he probably hasn't shown up yet!" she chuckles.
That's when the door is flung open, and Ellen's eyes light up.
"Dev! Finally-- I was starting to feel a bit overdressed!"
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With a laugh, "Overdressed? I thought you were slumming it up a bit for us so we wouldn't feel bad." He gives Ellen a hug. "Oof. Still built like a pier I see." He nods toward the bartender, "One of what she's having, unless it's tea. If that's the case, toss it out and bring me a pint of whatever won't make me go blind."
The obvious kitsune grins up at Dev, leaning back against the counter. ”A short little pier with a huge set of buoys?” she chuckles. ”C’mon, I knew you were coming. Got a mug warmed up for ya already.” She pushes a flagon of mead over, grabs her own, and raises it for a second before she guzzles down a few swigs.
”Sweet and smooth and—hhkk, always gets me right in the back of the throat, hol—hold on! Hold on,” she coughs, covering her mouth and swallowing with tears in her eyes.
She never was good at boozing, but that didn’t stop her from pretending.
”Izzit stronger than usual? New stuff, right?”
A big strong fellow comes rushing up, huffing and puffing. "Sorry to be late! Hope I haven't missed anything..."
The bartender raises an eyebrow at the group, then walks over to his calendar and releases a sigh, "F&@&in' eh, you lot again? Weren't there more of you last year?"
He glowers at the noblemonk's coughing fit, "Just as weak as yer coin. Ya still owe me from last year for the tables."
"So you are his crew!" squeals the older man. "Big fan. I've heard a lot about your exploits. But...apparently Elsir aint gonna make it?"
Taking a swig from his drin, he slides a few stools over to join the group. "I'm Professor Posh and I'd love to sit with you all."
Jadren seems different from when the others last saw him amidst the wreckage of the Brass Bird. It doesn't take long to realize that he has come down with a severe case of religion, the Iomedae strain, and while he is as warm and friendly as ever, his once-ribald toasts now all seem to turn into bar sermons which, to tell the truth, are the worst kind of sermons. It won't be long before he starts inviting the barmaids to services.
"Professor Posh? Love the alliteration," grins Ellen. "We're a few short this year, so I'm happy to have the company!"
"Plus, it looks like our go-to story teller is trying to root out evil in this very bar," she grumbles. "Hey! Jadren! What do you call a giant mosquito who learned how to preach?"
Jadren looks puzzled. "Truly that would be an amazing miracle - Iomedae be praised - but I have never seen such a thing. Teach me its name!"
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"Why, that would make him a stirge-yman, of course!"
Ellen would be grinning from ear to ear, if her pointy fox ears weren't at the top of her head.
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The barmaid turns down your offer saying, "Oh Sir, I'm sorry. I have a husband and just work here part time. I don't offer those uh... services."
A distinctly mechanical caw comes from the mantle and you all notice a clockwork parrot activating from its perch, "CAW! TWO PUNS! ACTIVATE SUBROUTINE THREE! THE PRINCE OF PUNS HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED!"
It flies ungracefully over to the bar and lands, "CAW! ARE THERE MORE OF MY CREW HERE?"
Most of you all quickly recognize this to be Captain Renlock's parrot, Cawlo.
Ellen counts on her fingers for a second, then mumbles, "That's my third one in a minute, actually."
She lifts her mead off the bar so that Cawlo doesn't fall into it and ruin another mug.
"Don't tell me you don't recognize the shiniest buttons in Avistan?"
Slapping his knee, he echoes "Stirge-yman"
"Oh that's great! Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this. I get so used to being alone, I forget people aren't all bad sometimes."
"Oh, is that a friend of yours?" inquires Posh. Thinking back to his conversations with the sorcerer... 'He did mention a parrot...but I just assumed it was a living one.'
The parrot squawks, "OUTSIDE PARAMETERS! PLEASE REPHRASE YOUR QUESTION IN THE FORM OF A COMMENT!"
The bartender turns to Ellen, "Goramit lady, can you turn that thing down?"
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"Stirgey...? That is terrible. Not keelhaul bad, but definitely worthy of a salty dunk." He sizes Jadren up and down, "So, things got so bad you had to join up, huh? Did you have to tell them all the sorted details of your old life? Like, remember those twins in Magnimar? That had to be two or three sins right there." The warm smile on his face matches the tone of his voice. " Glad you found an outfit that couldn't toss you out no matter how bad you were at the job." Dev looks his former crewmate in the eyes, "Seriously though, it is wonderful to see you."
"My good barkeep, if I knew how to make this thing speak any quieter, you could pair it with a Vow of Silence," she grins.
She can feel her ears burning at the mention of twins, but flicks the heat off of them rather than respond.
The parrot squawks a couple times and turns towards Kaako, "TWINS IN MAGNIMAR STATEMENT RECOGNIZED, HELLO KAAKO!"
Then a popping sizzling sound is heard and it seems to start shaking apart, "EXCESSIVE PUNS RECOGNIZED -> SELF DESTRUCT INITIATED!"
With a quick whistle and a lean, Ellen tips her stool over and rides it to the ground, stopping her decent with a grip on the bar counter.
"Anyone with pointy ears, hit the deck! It's gonna elf-destruct!"
Kaako Devereaux, The Crescent Moon shows who the real frontliner in the group is, rushing into danger instead of fleeing.
Maybe if it was a Thunderbird the Storm Monk would have faced it?
Regardless, the wiley rogue quickly inspects the construct and flips a switch. She looks back at the group wondering why there doesn't even seem to be a self destruct mechanism when the bird talks again. But this time, it is much quieter, "HEH HEH HEH, MADE YA FLINCH, PRINCE!"
Ellen grins as she pulls herself-- and her stool, still firmly against her bottom-- back upright.
"Like Cap'n Ren would really program that!" she chortles, giving the mecawnical bird a firm poke in the chest. "He loves my puns!"
As with any pun idiot, the truth of that last statement is entirely irrelevant to the conviction with which she states it.
"Works for me. I've got nothing else planned and this is the most excitement I've had in weeks!"
"You guys don't have a lot of things explode, do you?"
Jadren is still trying to wrap his head around the idea of a stirgeyman - the others are laughing but as far as he can tell it sounds like a very promising way to help spread the word amongst the bugs - and don't they need it as much as anyone?!? - when he realizes how the barmaid has mistaken his offer. He turns beet red and begins to stammer, "No, don't you know, I've promised myself to Iomedae, oh how awkward, it's not like back in our pirating days, dontcha know, not that we talk about those if we can help it - I don't think Iomedae is listening but ye never know..." he trails off lamely, face as red as a burst tomato.
When Devereaux brings up the twins of Magnimar Jadren hushes him loudly. "Everyone knows that what happens under Underbridge stays, well, under the Underbridge!"
But when the mechanical parrot begins to screech about the twins to the entire bar the poor fellow looks like he might have a seizure. He grabs it by the throat and tries to "turn it down."
Unfortunately, parrot necks - even mechanical ones - are rather flimsy. "Iomedae forgive me, what have I done?"
Jadren rushes to help and ignores the parrot's joke. He grabs the mechanical bird, the only relic any of you know from the captain and tries to wrench it's head off because that usually works.
It does work. With a crackling pop and snap, the bird dies. It's last breath is a clicking, "It... was... only... a... a.... joke."
But oddly enough, you all see a message in the neck hole. Maybe it was going to spit it out for you all? Maybe we shall never know.
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The note reads, 'My friends. It pleases this old pirate’s heart to see you gathered once again on the deck of the Brass Bird. Although my time has passed, I have found one last treasure for you to plunder. But to ensure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands, I have placed a few challenges in your way. Don’t worry, I am sure they are nothing you can’t handle.
It continues, 'To open the way, you must sail from the home of the pirates to plunder the coasts of Varisia. Return home, but then make your way to Absalom to spend your loot. Finally, follow my dream and sail to the River Kingdoms and retire in peace.'
A picture of the old wheel from your fated ship is the only other clue. Maybe you need to go back to where it all ended to know what the heck the captain means?
The bartender raises an eyebrow at the Iomedian, "I just wanted it quieter, not destroyed. But hey, you do you."
Seeing the note pulled out his eyes light up, "Oh yeah, that reminds me. I was given an odd package a couple months ago. The parrot was in it and there were four envelopes. The instructions were to put the parrot on the mantle and hand out the letters, one EACH to anyone the parrot started talking to." He looks at the four of you, "You all want them?"
"Remind me never to get a cold around Jadren," says the lady with a +11 Fortitude modifier.
She frowns at the destruction of the parrot. Hopefully they can take poor Cawlo to a craftsman some day and get it fixed...
She's happy to be pulled out of her brief mourning and concern for Jadren's desperation not to be known as "that paladin that showed two twins in Magnimar a very adequate time," and listens to the bartender.
"Oh, yeah. Absolutely. Good on you for keeping them, by the way, thank you," says the chatty fox woman, holding her hand out.
Wonder if they're individually-addressed, or...
"By the way, it looks like we might be down to three-- but Professor Posh here seems eager for an adventure!"
"By the way, it looks like we might be down to three-- but Professor Posh here seems eager for an adventure!"
The bartender hands one letter to each barfly, ”I don’t care. Four letters, four of you. I didn’t even need to go to college to figure that one out.”
They are not addressed to anyone.
Ellen frowns at her paper for a moment.
"Either this is a test of our ability to find a location, like a treasure map, or this is a test of our ability to figure out the amount of space between areas without falling into a pit, like a measure trap."
She turns it upside-down and pouts. "Or it's both. Anyway--"
She passes her paper to Dev, and holds her hand out to take Posh's.
Passing his letter to the Prince after reading it, he frowns. "Seems there should be more pieces that fit together...my note was a tad cryptic. How about the rest of you?"
Hearing Dev, he nods. "Yes, that makes sense. Shall we lay them out on the table together then and see if it makes more sense?"
The pieces seem to easily form a map. Of what? Well, that's sorta hard to see right now. Probably a treasure somewhere?
Jadren gazes at the map fragment but finds it difficult to read through his tears - whether he is weeping for the deceased mechanical parrot or for his memories of the Magnimar twins is difficult to say - but the issue is easily resolved by handing his fragment to the others, who have somehow remained clear-eyed. Jadren eyes them judgmentally through his tears before pulling out his prayer beads.
Ellen shakes the moisture off of Jadren's map fragment, gives him a curious look, and whispers conspiratorially to the others:
"If I am ever like that, it will take all of you working together to drown me, but I insist that you do."
She smooths out the map and adds it to the others!
"Just start. You'll need every advantage you can get. After all," she says, with a gleam in Jadren's direction, "it's hard to keep a good man drown. ...ed."
Five years. That was the last time the four three of you sailed together aboard the Brass Bird, pursued by the Andoran navy. It was the last time any of you saw Captain Renlock.
Fortunately you (or your friend) were set free after only a few months, but Renlock wasn’t so lucky. He spent his last years in jail until an illness claimed his life.
You learned of Renlock’s death from his trusted companion, a clockwork parrot named Cawlo that remained ever at his side. Just a few weeks ago, the bird sought you out to deliver the bad news and a piece of a map. It didn't end well for the bird...
While one side of the note contains a cryptic clue, the other suggested you to travel to this beach on this morning to find the “captain’s most-prized treasure.” So here you are, along with three others, staring at the partially sunken remains of the ship you once called home. The smell of the surf and rotting wood hang heavy in the air, the silence broken only by the screech of far-away gulls on this lonely island north of the Shackles.
As the group gets off their (rented?) boat and hops into the smaller, more shore-worthy vessel, Ellen... does not let up in the slightest.
"I once heard of a boat so big that it needed a smaller boat to carry its crewmates closer to shore, and then another smaller boat from there! You know what they say-- one dingh leads to another!"
"You know, I was never sure which paddle to use on the dinghy, but apparently, you can use either/oar!"
"When I was still with the Silver Dancer, we had a textile merchant travel with us once. I wanted to buy some of his fabric to use on the ship, but he made clear it was not for sail!"