Derek Boobyer's page

Finished with the crowds, Onura moves over to where they're questioning the prisoner. "You boys know who Argento is?"

"I know how much he's worth," Velryssa manages to grit out as she stands with Opillien's help.

"Navy has a hefty sum on his head. I know a few historians in their ranks who'll pay more for him alive." She adds, with a nod of appreciation to the the party. "Your patient hand will pay off for your pouches. And for Argus' family it would seem."

The man in question stirs from his magic induced slumber, but is groggy. The splash of holy water in his nose accelerates the process. He begins coughing and choking, his eyes flying open to find the from face of Beckett staring down at him. It's a matter of moments as Argento feels his bound hands and sees the array enemies be for him. He finishes his coughing fit and remains silent.

"How far away?" Argus demands, remaining focused on the henchman. "My family, how far away?"

"Not far from the temple." he replies, eyes warily darting to Argento, expecting the man to leap up and attack him. "We...we have a a way out of the city along the north wall. We pl..planned to cut the family loose, then cut n' run."

"Then we have a choice," Onura says. "We go to free the family then drop off the delivery. Or we go to the temple first."

Onura waves the Inquisitor along like a butler in the finest hotel. "By all means, this hasn't been awkward all, Mister Beckett." She sweeps towards the door, following in his wake. "If your intentions are thus, do approach Kraken with care. But he is an atypical specimen in that he is a forgiving sort."

"Take time to cool your tempers. My estimation is that this is the crew's first time putting to sea," Onura motions for the group to exit the hold. After which she closes the door without locking it. "Given time you'll each learn the other's deeper desires. Only then can you reconcile the crew and sail without calamity."

Onura heads for the stairs. "But first, I think a lesson in humility will be required to surmount the individual egos. Such a lesson, in my experience, normally arrives when the seas are roughest and the mizzen it's cracking."

☀♆♜
Beckett Foxglove
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
☀♆♜

Onura seems satisfied between Lavios and Karl's responses. So much so that she looks relieved am finds a barrel stamped with the markings of Pentwert's Tobacco & Co and grabs a seat. At a gesture, the lid on the strong box shuts and the audible sounds of tiny gears and bolts can be heard as it locks itself.

"I'm thankful for your acceptance of the task. I too long for and time when the world was black and white." She sighs and draws up and no leg so she can rest her arms across it. "Out here on the seas, the world still is...perhaps that's why I love it so." When Karl brings forth the luck charm, Onura nods sagely. "Prince Evan the Twice-Graced, so our unlucky captain favors charms and the mercurial graces of Besmara. Intriguing thing to know about Captain Opillien Bantu."

She holds up a hand to the group. "I had my suspicions as to his identity when you dragged him on board. Not too many Mwangi ship captains pass through this region, but I wanted to be sure. Seamus brought back a piece of the hull, one with the carvings Opillien is famous for along the rails of the ship. Depictions of the creatures indigenous to his homeland."

She reaches into a pouch at her side and presents a chunk of wood. On it is the inlay depiction of a stylized panther roaring. More interesting is the burnt nature of the wood. "Seamus found debris similar to that while out on the launch. Something or someone set the torch to the Dahnaki and put her crew to the ax...or worse." Onura shakes her head, taking off her hat to allow her curly black hair to spill across her shoulders. "Seamus also brought another body on board. He'd wanted to prove he wasn't daft after claiming there were more than just weapon damage to it. He said there were human bites to them. I confirmed as much on the person of a crewman. An ax had split his guts...but there were human sized chew marks on the arms and neck..."

"Whatever you lot are up to, it may have claimed that ship and crew. The Dahnaki is on a list of vessels Olfrey paid me to keep an eye out for during our voyage." She eyes Karl and the rest. "It would seem I'm below the waterline on this trip, Mr Marsh. While I don't believe the items in my strong box are related, I do believe in luck and providence. You've been placed on a unique position aboard my vessel. Considering the fate of the Dahnaki, I'll be sire to keep my distance from other vessels in Olfrey's list."

She pulls back her hair and seems to finally notice Linkah staring at her with a dumb smile. Fitting her hat again, Onura slides off the barrel and passes by the Halfling, drawing a pair of fingers along his chin. It elicits a strangely embarrassed giggle from the diminutive rogue. "Rendering a Halfling speechless... I'm flattered."

To the others, "I don't like sailing these waters at night, but I'm not going to stay in this location. We move on to Riddonport. Do you have further questions or shall we attend Captain Opillien? "

☀♆♜
Beckett Foxglove
Karl Marsh
Lavios Daleborn
☀♆♜

All
Beckett, check under the DM Screen spoiler above...

Those who look see a flash of profound disappointment on the half-orc's face just before Kraken's eyes turn cold and distant. It's a look you've seen before in the eyes of Kheegan, the one-handed friend of Hal'dorel. Kraken's knuckles crack as his hands ball into fists.

"Oh my boy," Onura soothes in her silken tones. She turns and places a gloved hand upon Kraken's shoulder, the violence in his eyes diminishing. Then she glances to the young door guard. "Both of you, leave us."

"Cap'n...I dunno..." Kraken starts to object.

"I'll take care of matters here, Mister Kraken. And with far less damage to my ship." She tips her chin towards the stairs behind him. "Go, both of you. Mister Indrik will want you both topside to ensure we're underway."

Both knuckle their brows and turn to leave. Kraken spares another glance at Beckett, but says nothing. Whatever respect the simple-minded brute had for the young Inquisitor seems to have faded.

"Now," Onura spins on her heels and claps her hands together under her chin, like a noble beauty set to prayer, save for the dangerous glint in her violet eyes. "...where were we? Ah, yes, my dear boy. You've a faith and dedication that would make you a suitable quatermaster, but your manners leave something to be desired." Her tone is matronly, bordering on condescending. A tone Beckett recalls from his years bound to the nobility of his homeland.

Onura clasps her hands behind her back and steps gracefully towards Beckett, eyes never leaving his. When she's close enough to whisper, she speaks slowly and with with a song in her voice. "...if you ever again threaten harm to my crew, my ship or me, young Foxglove, I'll have Velryssa flay the skin from your bones and run it up the mizzen alongside my colors." Onura steps back and rests her hands on her hips.

"Alright, shall we try this once again?" Onura gestures to the box. "Had you taken the time to ask me, perhaps I'd have mentioned that my cargo is my business." She sighs and shakes her head. "But my willingness to bring three zealots aboard my vessel put me in an awkward position." She points a finger skyward. "And yet, Lt. Olfrey's request put before me an efficient solution."

"You'd better put that away, dear boy, before someone gets hurt." she says as she walks passed Beckett to the strong box. A wave of her hand and a single word spoken, the latches click open. "I've been given the charge by the Abadaran church to see these relics delivered to a priest in Riddonport. He is to take them into custody and Velryssa is to see him safely from the port to his sanctuary on the eastern side of town. I'd already sought you out for assistance in this matter when you boarded. My efficiency is not having to bring on board an extra passenger, when I have a paladin of Iomedae vouchsafed by Olfrey."

The hinges are barely audible as she lifts the lid. Inside, resting upon velvet lining, are seven objects; a single-edged knife carved from what appears to be crystal, a signet ring of silver and a glass tube with brass fittings. Inside the last is a globular fluid suspending a single finger.

The remaining four objects are tapered rods resting along each of the four corners of the box's interior. These latter are inlaid with runes you all now recognize as Abadaran.

"With the box opened, I would advise against observing the items via magical means. The lid acts as a buffer thanks to the warding rods." Onura folds her arms and continues. "Separately, these three items are vile enough. Together they make up a Soul Anchor. The dagger is plunged into the victim...the priest conducting the rite wears the ring. The victim dies, but the soul is trapped in the ring." The Windsinger wrinkles her nose in disgust. "The villain can choose to keep the victim alive however, returning the soul, but in this case, he did not. Paladins from the church killed this particular enemy..." She points to the finger. "The task is to bring what's left of him and the tools of his ritual to Riddonport to release the soul of the sacrifice killed in the process."

She waits for any questions from the trio.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26

Onura smiles warmly at Karthan's formality, willing herself to not chuckle to herself for all his devious innuendo. "Sadly it will be several weeks before I'm able to pass anything in the night, Dawnsetter. For the Windsinger's course has been plotted towards the shores of endless council meetings and debates over trade rights." the elven captain allows a grin to slip across her face like a ship in a fog. "I thank you and your companions for the last week's diversions and look forward to the promise of more in our future."

Then to Zandra, after sharing a look that passed a small measure of amusement and an equal request of an unspoken request for permission, Onura stands back and waves the rest of her crew to get back to work.

"You better get moving too," she says, her full authority evident once more in her tone and bearing. Her eyes drift to the other end of the dock where the throngs of people part themselves before an approaching cadre. Past the shoulders and others, she sees the end of a green feather bobbing along and soon the gruff voice of her dwarven commodore can be heard. "I detect my next few weeks fast approaching."

"...Thor makes a formidable ally or enemy."

Onura agrees appreciatively. "Indeed. I can empathize, I'd hate to think of my Jack falling to prey to this contagion." As if on cue, her capuchin familiar lands on the map table, much to the annoyance of Scribble. The Windsinger holds out a hand and the monkey is more than happy leap upon he arm and expertly walk his away to her shoulder to take his accustomed seat. "Only thing I could do for the fella is feed him to the hammerheads!"

Jack screeches his disagreement with her solution and reaches up to pull her hat down over her eyes.

"Heh, heh, okay old friend, I guess we'd have to see to a cure of some kind, right?" She laughs and tips the brim of her hat into place. "But I'm thankful your own companion is safe as houses, Zandra."

Scribble thumps his fist upon the map table, drawing their attention. He's pointing at the compass which has stopped bouncing between two points and settled on what she estimates is true north. An unspoken question to the dwarf and he nods affirmative. Yes, true north by his own reckoning.

"Seems that whatever was causing our ills has died with the Wake. Good riddance, may the seas swallow here and never give her back." Her forefinger taps a rhythmic pattern of thanks to her goddess. "Mr Scribble, Mr Cendrik, all possible speed to Absalom. Time to put this light forsaken pool of mess to our stern."

"It seems to be ship wide, Zandra," Onura answers from behind Zandra. She clamps her personal compass back to her belt and beneath her longcoat. She closes her eyes allows some of her magical energies to enhance her senses. Then she hisses in vexation. "It would seem that my own senses are being fooled as well, causing me to find true north there," she points off the bow, then points in a direction 20 degrees off (2 points). "...and there."

A quick spellcraft check indicates that the captain had cast Know Direction to determine true north.

"Whatever lay behind this devilry, the Slip's guns will set to rights." Onura responds confidently. "Maybe it's that dead beast on the deck, maybe some other thing that lunatic managed to drag aboard his ship. I'm at the point of not caring so long as I get me and mine away from here with no further loses."

At the last, she decides to voice her own question she'd been holding the last few minutes. "Zandra, what news of your companion? I do not sense sadness in you, but is the tiger...lost to the depths?"

Less amused than wary, Onura agrees with a dip of her chin. Then she turns back to Karthan. "Thank you, Dawnsetter, for sharing this information."

A dismissal if ever there was one.

Where to now? Do you want to fast forward to the city? Or do you have business to conclude with the group...or a conversation with Cendric at the helm as Zandra returns the charts?

"The rest of this mess, the darkness it could portend," Onura looks down at the journal, brows furrowing, her cheek quivering as she chews her lip. "I'm thankful there's no trace of the vileness on my vessel. But I'll need to pass this along to Stoneanchor once we reach harbor. He'll need to mollify the Gill-men, acknowledge their concern over the Wake was a valid one."

"But once we reach port, I'll request that the Slip be placed at your service should you need to depart Kortos. I'm not certain I wish to know more before I consult with my officers and determine their willingness to take part in such matters." She pushes the journal across the table back to Karthan. "I've a ship and crew to look after and responsibilities to the Harbormasters to fill my sails. But what you've presented here intrigues me. I'll help when I can."

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

Onura holds out her hand for the key, seeing the hesitation - ever so briefly - in Valryssa prior to handing it over. "It has not resonance of magic that I can detect. But perhaps your wizard can learn more in that regard."

She hands it back to Valryssa. "Anything familiar about it?"

The Windsinger and her compatriot begin studying the journal, falling into a silence interrupted by the occasional comment or question.

"This Vossian Velrusian, I don't know him, but he's a fool of a captain. By plotting currents and knowing their previous port of call, it could be easy enough to track down this mysterious island..." Onura mentions, looking at the entry from 96 days prior.

Valryssa tsks, delicate finger ending in a blood-red nail pointing at a name. "Wendell Velsurian, I know the name." She stands back and folds her arms, hips canted at an angle that emphasizes their curve and the pairing of daggers sheathed there. "He has a shop in the Clockwork Academy, sells navigational equipment, that sort of thing to fund some research." To Onura, "A few of the Harbormaster's ships hold sextants and signal lamps of his design."

"If you're looking to find him, I'm sure Valryssa can arrange it. Dealing with that band of tinkerers can be a troublesome thing." Onura comments, then returns to reading.

"What is this 'U' mentioned here? Is that the dead flab of flesh on the Wake's deck?" Onura inquires.

Onura considers the elf before her, eyes locking into his like a reflection of still waters. Without breaking her gaze she calls out to orders. "Mr. Cendrik, get us to safe distance and send the Wake to the bottom. Mark her location on the charts currently in the Lady Dawnsetter's possession."

Then to Karthan, "Follow me, little scallop. We'll see exactly what it is you have to share."

The Lucky Slip's sails are tightened as the Mwangi second-in-command begins calling out orders from the helm. He signals to a young runner next to him to go and bring Zandra over to the helm and the chart table behind him so they can mark the location of the Wake's wreck and also the ship they'd felled earlier.

Onura nods to the rest of Karthan's group in turn, pausing momentarily before Sacerdos. "A prayer may be in order, Inquisitor. Something to allay the superstitions of my crew and to set a better course for our minds. While they do not worship Ragathiel, they still know the value of a spiritual cleansing after the things we've witnessed. See to it, please."

"Velryssa!" the Windsinger calls out on the deck in search of the Tuan fencer. "Someone get that crafty fixer and send her to my quarters!" Back to Karthan. "She's had her eyes on several things in this world, Dawnsetter. Perhaps her experience can lend some clarity to your findings."

With that, Onura Limnestti strides to her quarters, Karthan at her side. Once there, she nods to the table nailed to the deck at the center of the officer's room. "Out with it, Dawnsetter. Show me the goods."

"I'll point my bow according to my will, Dawnsetter. My service to Stoneanchor assures me that much. But a fool sails in the blind." she eyes the other elf closely, a chill in her gaze. "You don't consider me a fool do you?"

She let's a long pause drift between them like the lull between typhoons. But she allows a smile to curve the corner of her lip. "Of course you don't. Now tell me what I need to know to keep my ship and crew above the waves. If the contents of the Wake were so important as to send a crew of hardcases, what's to say there aren't others over the horizon...or at port?"

"I would not have given over their lives to your care, Dawnsetter, had I not taken the measure of you before hand." Onura rests her hands upon the rail facing the other ship. Even without knowing of Mal'undil's sabotage, the Windsinger knows the vessel is under a death sentence. The Lydia's Wake would ply the seas no more. Perhaps a good thing considering the monstrosity laying dead on her deck.

"The other vessel we pursued, I knew not her colors. But her crew fought with a savagery I'd not witnessed in all my years along the great shark-road. Towards the end, they turned on one another with tooth and nail as though in a frenzy for escape." She closes her eyes and remembers the blood and bone. "A darkness held them fast, one I'm not entirely certain was aboard ship simply for contact with the Wake...or perhaps was with them from the last port of call."

"To a man, they rampaged and hooted like bestial things...all save for the single man who stood the helm. He, he stood fast, focus relentless upon the waves and ever trying to gain every drop of advantage from a vessel far inferior to my own." She sweeps a hand towards the battery of cannons beneath their feet. "I directed a volley right at the helm, for I knew he would never give up. I broke his position, then broke the ship's rudder... Before that, he put up a grand fight despite the handicap of a mad crew."

A sigh escapes her lips, as she finishes her study of the dead heap on the Wake. Her right hand's forefinger draws a symbol on the palm of her left, a ward against evil that befit her marginal superstitions. Then she turns away and leans her back against the rail and allows her eyes to survey the crew's progress. "The other ship, the one we sent to the bottom, her helmsman put up a good fight, countering my maneuvers as though captain borne. But through the fight, my question remained, 'how did they know to be there?' This location is nothing special. In fact it is avoided by just the nature of the currents by a captain with half their wits. But this stranger and his unmarked vessel made their way to the beleaguered Wake."

"I don't believe in coincidence, my delicate scallop. So the only conclusion is they knew the Wake would be here. And they aimed to retrieve something. We may never know, for the stranger's ship is dead." Onura finally turns her eyes to Karthan, a grin plays upon her lips. "Tell me more of coincidences and evils, Dawnsetter. What manner of captain brings aboard something so foul as the demon you killed? Who is he?"

She eyes the ship warily, studying the movements of her crewmen aboard the Wake. Especially Croaker. Onura raises a hand aloft knowing the crew alongside her are ready to fire at the first sign trouble.

"Mr Croaker, if you would be so kind to step forward to the rail..." she calls, delicate hand like a sail against the wind.

Then she looks upwards to the rigging and her primate companion. A silent communication passes between them and Jack races along the cross beam and leaps from one ship to the next. Onura's elvish eyes trace his progress until Jack is crouching at the rail before Croaker. The monkey reaches out a paw and touches the crewman.

Her eyes flutter closed, her hands still held in place. Moments pass, the sounds of wood creaking and the ocean waves below. Then her eyes open, a touch of shock like a secret text held in a shelf of books. "Secure your weapons, make safe the canons, deploy the planks! Get them off of that bundle of sticks!" Whirling about on her heels she signals her boatswain. "Make ready for cargo transfer!"

Zandra: Your sense motive detects Onura's strong desire to make sure all those aboard the Wake are still of sound mind. She's seen something, perhaps aboard the shop they pursued.

"All they say for diamonds, in my life, preparation is a girl's best friend." Onura looks over Zandra's shoulder, considering Karthan and matching up his sister's words. "I also find that letting a man fall on his face more often than not is a better course for my rudder than constantly cutting into his wind."

She smiles down at Zandra knowingly. "But you're already learning that, aren't you?" Onura rests her hands on her hips and laughs, a musical thing that carries only a hint of her abilities. Zandra is reminded of Caleb for some reason. "It's a dangerous prospect, allowing a ship to ride the winds and only working the wheel...allowing the currents of water and air to be the guide...especially when love is involved. But if a boat's hull and sails are true, they can handle just about anything."

A few hand gestures in the air, mimicked by Jack the monkey and Onura rests a hand on Zandra's shoulder. "Luck and Boldness, Zandra Dawnsetter, if the Great Drinker is kind this day, we'll be on our way back to Absalom in a few hours."

Onura looks to the elven ranger as he sets to his duties. "He has promise, I'll grant you that. But he'll need to get his temper in order. Every time I look at him I see a main mast ready to snap because the crew refuses to spill wind from the sail." Eyes back to Zandra, she gives a chuckle. "Although, it's just those qualities that could make him a good shipmaster in time. Who knows what the winds have in store for him...or you."

That being said, she motions for Zandra to follow her to the aft castle and the small table there bolted to the deck. On it, held down by brass clamps is a map of the area. She pointed to a section off the coast of Absalom. Then she draws her finger to a small chain of three islands twice the distance from their ship towards the west. "Currents are shifting. So if something happens and you're forced to the launch before we return, make your heading there. I'll know to steer towards that approach to retrieve you." She then unclamps the map and rolls it up, fitting into an oiled-leather scroll case. Before sealing it, she points to the inside of the scroll case cap. A brass-fitted compass gleams as the gray light of the day reflects off the glass face. "Keep the map and the case safe. Get to those islands, the southern most. You'll be safe there and in the shipping lanes so you can call for assistance."

"Hmm..." Onura steps closer to Zandra, a rare look of concern in her eyes. "Best you don't fall, Dawnsetter. When I said 'customers' earlier, I meant sharks. I don't care how good a swimmer you think he is, nothing out does a shark."

A hand goes absently to Jack, the monkey on her shoulder.

"As for who sails the schooner, your guess is as good as mine. Scavengers of exceptional connection or luck would be my estimate."

Prepare to be Boarded!!

The dawn finds the sun hidden behind clouds heavy with unspent rain, leaving the world a palette of varying grays and white ocean froth cleaving from the Lucky Slip’s bow. The party likewise awakens to a gray world as the thumping of the crews’ feet sounds through the wood of the ship. As the night’s sleep clears away like mist, the muffled orders being passed down from deckhand to deckhand sound like the calls of ghosts on other side of the Material Plane.

**Thump Thump** A fist pounds against the door, a mailed fist.

”Time to rise, my friends.” Sacerdos’ sure baritone calls from the other side of the door to Karthan and Mal’s shared quarters. ”The night’s travels have brought us to our quarry.” With that, the Inquisitor’s booted feet depart in the direction of the steps leading to the upper deck.

”Did I mention wanting to go with you today, kid?” Mal asks with obvious pain in his voice. His next words are muffled as he buries his face in his pillow. ”Cayden Calean take me but my skull feels like Gertrude stepped on it.”

Karthan is up quickly and gathers his gear and gets Mal’undil moving as well. Feel free to write this part up, along with how Karthan announces things to the group and determines who's all going.

I’ll move things along to the upper deck. We can retcon as needed. I won’t post much for Zandra because I don’t know if you want to press further with the research or wait for the return voyage so you can get some sleep.

------

The adventurers gather on the upper deck, the cold morning air eager to greet them. A mist is upon the surface of the sea, but it still allows for at least a ¼ mile of visibility. Thankfully, even with the heavy storm looming in the west and the heavy cloud cover over them, there is no rain and the seas are relatively quiet.

Onura stands much as she did the night before, watching as the rolling waves brought them closer and closer to a new sight; a ship! The only difference is that her capuchin monkey rests upon her shoulders. The little creature is dark brown and wears a tiny woven vest.

”Mr. Croaker,” she calls to the man standing next to her. She hands him her spyglass. ”What say you shinny up to the next and have us a look-see?”

”Aye, Captain.” He replies and moves off, slipping up the rigging and the rope ladder with ease.

”Mr. Cendrik,” Onura shouts, the Mwangi man a few paces away descending from the aft castle. ”I want oars out, slow our approach! Spill some air from our sails too!”

Cendrik salutes and sets about passing the word. Immediately after, young crewman emerges from below decks and stands at attention before Onura. ”Captain, guns at the ready, aye!”

”Well done, lad. Get yourself at the ready, I don’t think we’ll be lighting the fuses...but one never knows.” She strides away from the crewman and rests her hands on the port rail, staring out at the ship adrift in the sea before her.

A dark hulk sits upon the rolling seas, a huge merchant galley crawls slowly towards the Lucky Slip. As she draws within a hundred yards, you can see she’s battered. Her hull is storm-scarred and appears to have other, unidentifiable damage too. The ship’s rigging sways aimlessly and no one appears to be manning her helm. She sits too low in the water and lists slightly starboard - a sure sign that she’s gulping the sea. Even the ship’s figurehead, expertly carved and painted in the likeness of a woman garbed funerary veils, eyes closed and hands resting gently on her chest, knows the end is near. Her beautiful rest seems somehow disturbed, as though she might open her eyes at any moment and wail a mournful dirge.

Onura sighs and looks back to about a dozen or so crew standing by and the party. “That’s the Lydia’s Wake alright. Figurehead is a give away. But by the gods she’s seen better days. Prepare the boarding planks and ready the hooks and netting.” The Windsinger pauses and looks over the side of the ship. ”Looks like we’ve got some hungry customers, so make sure the planks are hooked tight.”

”Captain!” Croaker’s voice sounds like a pound of gravel sliding down sheet metal roof.

”What is it?” Karthan can tell that Onura already knows. Her monkey busies itself with finding errant spots of dust in her plumed hat.

”Sails, other side of the drifter. Schooner by the look of her!”

The Windsinger’s eyes blaze with a kindled excitement. ”Mr. Cendrik, ready to unfurl!” She whips about from the rail and approaches the party. ”I’m going to get you across, then I’m going in pursuit of our little bilge rats who think they can salvage a ship out from under my keel.”

”Mr. Croaker, get me a bearing and get down here!” Then to the men stationed on the forecastle. ”Ready the port launch!”

Then Onura looks back to the party again, specifically at Zandra. ”Look, I’ll be honest with you. I had my reservations taking your cat on board, but now it’s a bit more dicey.” She points towards the listing hulk behind her. ”I can get you all on board, I’m fairly certain furry here can make the walk across the planks. But if the Wake starts really sinking, then you’ll have to get to the launch in a hurry.” She points downwards to her feet. ”That’s a 30 to 40 ft drop to the boat.”

Onura grins back at the ranger. "Good. Now go see to your people, get some rest if you can. We should be upon them by dawn. Then we see what the sea has for us."

Got a few hours, four maybe, before dawn. So notify the group as you see fit, then decide how best to prepare. I'll post the approach to Lydia's Wake tomorrow.

"Anything is possible, little scallop." She closes the spyglass and slips it into a holster at her hip. "Mr. Cendrik, double the deck watch and have 2nd crew muster and load the cannons by dawn. Mr. Scribbles, steady as she goes."

She spun about and passed Karthan and Mal on the aft castle and headed to the deck. "Mr. Kraken, as soon as you see dawn's early light, I'd appreciate if you rustled up a boarding party for me."

"Dawnsetter, I'll give you and your little party the choice. If indeed we are to encounter a hostile ship in these waters, which ship would you prefer to lead your troop against?" She rested her hands on her hips, a cat's grin on her full lips. "I can spare a detail for you in case something...shippy comes up."

"By all means," Onura offers the spyglass to Karthan. She smiled at the archer and gestured to the rope ladder as it swayed in the wind and the rocking of the ship. "Don't fall overboard, Dawnsetter. I'd hate to lose you."

The rigging off the main mast stretches upwards, a central set of the rigging serving as a ladder to the crows nest 70 feet up off the deck.

Onura lets out a piercing whistle as Karthan descends the stairs from the aft castle. "Ahoy, squirts! Crewman to the nest!"

Kraken thundered away with the order, sending a set of 5 deckhands to man the rigging.

-------------------------

The ship beneath Karthan's feet rocks and rolls, buoyed by ocean swells. The elf approaches the rigging and the rope ladder, safely stowing the spyglass in his satchel, then he prepares to climb.

Climb Check: DC 12

If Karthan retries, then elevate the DC to 13

------If Karthan Succeeds-----
Perception Check: Roll it and based on your results, peer into the appropriate spoiler below...

Once done with your observations, give me a Fortitude Check: DC 15 for your time in the crows nest. Add +2 if you imbibed Caleb's Carbon Powder earlier in the evening.

The Windsinger nodded approval. "Well done. There is no better crewman than one who knows his place." She gestured to party and the crew ascending the gangplank. "I can't have all of them trying to do my job or Cendrik's or Kraken's...nor can you have your sister standing the line when you have the paladin or the inquisitor standing by with their shields, ready to take the blows."

"I will say this, Karthan. Speak your mind when you're on my vessel. I don't have the time nor the inclination to have to steer the helm through a mire of drek and fodder."

She stared up at the gangplank, eyeing the other Dawnsetter. "I"ll be honest with you, my succulent scallop. I'm not overly fond of your sister. Your cousin? He's quiet...and I can use a tosser on board." Onura shook her head. "The inquisitor, the paladin? I'm glad for their bluntness and forthrightness."

The captain turned to Karthan. "I mean no disrespect, but as I said, all aboard my ship speak their mind. Your sister bandies the words of the Court to and fro like an Osirion cat dangling her tail over the walls of the pharaoh's citadel. This city...the open seas...they're no place for such trivial things. On my ship, it goes without saying that she's safe...but out there in the streets of Absalom..." She shrugged as if saying that was a whole other matter all together.

Continue as you will. Also, be sure to check out the maps in my last post to determine where you'll be staying in the guest quarters.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19
Onura grinned at Zandra, hands still on her hips. "Flattery will get you everywhere, youngling. But rest assured, I know full well Mal'undil's background and how well he can guard or let loose his tongue. Promises and warnings can go a lot further in my line of work than a scroll's worth of history." Onura rested a hand lightly on Zandra's shoulder. "But I do like your panache!"

She turned back to the half-elf rogue. "So, you've really gone straight?"

"It's better for my health." Mal responded.

Onura shrugged. "Pity, a cutthroat is much more useful out there." she said, motioning towards the harbor and the sea beyond.

"As for you," Onura moved to Karthan and stood next to him, facing her crew as though she were observing them too. "Velryssa's the one you'd go for first. While Kraken here can squeeze your neck until your head pops like a barnacle, my dear Velryssa will have you on your back faster than you can say, 'there's a dagger in my eye!'" She clapped Karthan on the back. "But I guess you can't blame yourself for trying."

The Windsinger motioned for the crew to get aboard, some of her regular boys coming over to grab up the party's gear. When the party moved forward to hit the gangplank, she held Karthan back to speak with him in private.

"Mind yourself, Dawnsetter." She warned. "I won't have you starting fights aboard my ship. I don't care how cute you look in a pair of breeches, I'll throw you overboard with a stone tied about your ankles."

She slapped Karthan on the rump and grinned. "Now, let's get underway, shall we?"

"Well, well, well. You certainly know how to make acquaintances, Karthan." The doors to the temple reopened, drawing their attention aw Coor stuck his head out. A quick flicker of brow movement and then he nodded towards the harbor.

Hmmm, dinner will have to wait... She sighs, but not out of disappointment,. Onura's heart quickened because Coor's gesture meant they were leaving tonight! Right now in fact.

"Sorry my willing escort, but the sea beckons." Onura turned back to the others and brandished her most wicked and dangerous grin. "Better head inside and acquire you some supplies from Leberios, looks like we depart before sunset."

The elf sea captain leaped forward with a mirthful laugh and planted a deep and passionate kiss upon the ranger then gave his tail a squeeze. "You all are dining in my officer's hall aboard the Lucky Slip as my personal guests."

With that she whistled her way back towards her carriage, calling out orders to the groomsman interlaced with some of the most colorful language the Dawnsetter siblings had ever heard.

As she neared the elaborate carriage, a capuchin monkey bounded from one of the door windows to land on Onura's shoulder. The elven seafarer reached up and scratched the creature under the chin.

Think on what gear you'd like to bring and head inside the temple to request from Olivia Zandra and Fir can sense a magical connection between Onura & the monkey.

Onura arched an eyebrow. "The Scroll you say? Impressive credentials. In Absalom only a short time and you find yourself in such excellent company.” She rested her hands on her hips and thought back with a smile, eyes closed, her chin tilted up to reveal some of her neck. ”Caleb’s voice is a soothing balm. I've only met him in passing twice, but he remembered me on the second visit. The man has a great memory."

Then she frowned slightly as she reopened her eyes and looked to Karthan. ”Clerics? Well, I don’t know how pleased your Inquisitor is going to be when we pull alongside. The merfolk were quite clear in their description. They found Lydia’s Wake adrift. And when they weighed her anchor, there was no stirring of crew or passenger.” The sea captain shrugged, lips pursing. ”But they didn’t board the ship per se in order to drop the anchor, so these clerics of his could be hiding out somewhere aboard.”

"The temple?" Onura laughed at the thought. "Why would I shackle myself to such nonsense? Justice?" She patted the basket-hilt rapier at her hip. "Vendetta here is all the justice I need. No, no affiliation. Stoneanchor's angry because he'd rather I was running things from the docks...keeping the ships in line."

She shrugged, her long, raven locks catching in the breeze. "But this she-elf was meant for the seas. I'm just responding to the call for a salvage operation so I can get the decks of my ship under my boots."

"As for why we're here? The temple had a standing watch request for the ship, as I said before." She eyed Zandra with curiosity. "What's so special about this cargo anyway? Some kind of relic? Normally, if the merfolk came to the Harbormaster's office with a stink & sink, he just let's them have it. But..." Onura winked at the elves. "Give, huh? I'd like to know what I'm sailing into."

"A sound policy when thinking of the plagues this ship could carry, but I am willing to guess the ship is vacant for other reasons." Karthan replied. "Sometimes suppression of ones desire makes the fruit of it seem all the sweeter."

The Windsinger shrugged, a touch of disappointment in her eyes. Another one of those "patience is a virtue" sort of elves. Great... "Waiting's for chumps, Dawnsetter. There are better things to do with one's inklings than keeping them hidden all day." Onura eyed the small of Karthan's back where she'd brushed the hilt of the dagger. "The sea is a cruel mistress. Take what you want when you can get it, otherwise she'll swallow you up whilst you savor nothing."

Ahead of them, Coor, with his ever petulant bearing was standing at the door to the temple awaiting Onura to catch up with the rest of the group. Just crossing into the temple, she noted the posture of the Inquisitor had tensed somewhat. Perhaps the Paladin had just finished conveying to him the same news Onura had to the other elves.

"Hope you have some sea-legs left," Onura warned, gesturing towards the temple. "I'm guessing your resident Inquisitor isn't going to be in the mood to savor anything either. He'll want to leave now."

The Windsinger looked to the skies and smelled the air, her senses sifting through the deluge of city-stink to pick out the elements of the sea. Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22 "And we'll need to if we want to get clear of the harbor and the rocks ahead of the incoming storm." With her tone, the growing cloud cover the group had seen on their ride from the Arcanamirium seemed all the more ominous. "We'll be able to sail through the night and hopefully reach the Lydia's Wake just before sunrise tomorrow. We play our cards right, we can be back inside of 3 days before the seas get really choppy."

"Go ahead you quill chomping dandy," she called to Coor. "Get yourself inside and we'll be along directly."

The thin historian nodded once and disappeared into the temple.

Pausing at the foot of the stairs, Onura turned to the elves and raised an eyebrow. "Things are going to go pretty fast in there, not going to be a lot of time for questions. What questions do you have and I'll address them here and now."

She spared a predatory smile for the ranger. "The Harbormasters object because the merfolk object, my succulent scallop." Onura winked at him, her dark eyes a blend of ocean depths and violet. "The merfolk objected because Lydia's Wake arrived two days ago adrift on the currents west of our little Isle of Kortos."

Ahead of them, Liberios had begun ascending the steps.

"They weighed her anchor and kept her from drifting into the rocks. From what they know, the crew is either dead or abandoned ships." Onura waved a few fingers towards the dwarf now ascending the steps of the temple. "Captain Stoneanchor's office was contacted. The merfolk were intent upon burning the ship and sending her to the bottom. They have certain...suspicions when it comes to derelict ships. The temple here had a standing request of notification for the Lydia's Wake, sooo..."

Another grin for Karthan, deep blue and violet eyes already promising. "...that's how I find myself trudging upon the cobblestones of Absalom instead of the warm wooden decks of my ship. Captain's none to pleased I volunteered for the salvage, but I'm yearning for the sea..." A second wink to Karthan. "...and Stoneanchor knows I'll not be denied my desires."

"Magnimar?" She shook her head, the row of earrings in her right ear tinkling softly. "No, not aboard my ship. She won't be bound for Varisia for several months thanks to my responsibilities here."

Ahead of them, Liberios was setting a brisk, soldier's pace for the doors to the temple, Captain Stoneanchor and his Coor Definne stepping to in order to keep up. The half-elf Inquisitor was chatting with the paladin next, leaving the elves to bring up the rear. "You'll find out soon enough, but the Harbormasters will not allow the Lydia's Wake to dock. The merfolk made that perfectly clear."

With a graceful but absentminded flourish, Onura brushed at some lint upon the sleeve of her coat. "Since they cannot dock, and there has been a special request by your Chaplain Lord here, I volunteered to take the Inquisitor...and I'd assume all of you aboard my vessel to tie up to Lydia's Wake and board her. Acquiring cargo is the goal I've been told."

Onura grinned in satisfaction. They weren't "city" elves, that was for sure, but they weren't fresh from the forest either, which was better. She slipped away from Karthan,, disengaging contact as she walked.

"Your brother is made of stern stuff, Sister Zandra. I do enjoy the cut of his timbers." Onura spoke slyly, dropping in next to the druidess. "How is your cat?" She asked Zandra. "Is he manageable aboard ship?"

Quick amendment to the last post...the first strike from Kreig actually hit Mal also...

Damage - 1d10 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10

At Initiative 12...

Surrounded, bellowing in pain, the dwarf turns his head skyward and begins laughing. The moon dares to cast its glance downwards, silvery light falling upon Kreig's face.

What Karthan had thought was spittle and froth was given a crimson cast in the new moon's light. There were bits of gore in the dwarf's beard, flying outward from his teeth as he laughed.

"I et 'is heart ya half-breed bastard!! I et his heart so I could see yers cry like babes!!"
Intimidate Check - 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (5) + 21 = 26 Countering Karthan's attempt at Initimidation...

Kreig swung his great club in a low arc, aiming to take Mal'undil...
Great Club(bin) - 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19 Miss!!

...the dwarf's growls of frustration mix with his insane mirth as he arcs his swing back downwards for his second strike at Mal...
Great Club(bin) - 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22 Hit!!
Damage - 1d10 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

He nearly loses his footing with the downward strike, but rights himself just in time. Kreig spits a horror-ridden mixture of his own blood and Lau's blood onto the half-elf and grins. "On wit it den, half-breed...you 'n yer lady frens..."

At Initiative 12...  

Kreig shrugs off the rogue's attack, drops Lau to the flash stones just to the side of the open sewer grate and launches himself at the elven ranger, froth at his lips as he curses in dwarven.

Mal's Attack of Opportunity - 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10  Miss!!

Kreig swings Bruiser in a murderous arc, bellowing as he brings the great club down.

Kreig's Attack (charging) - 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25  Hit!!!
Damage (Vicious Weapon) - 1d10 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14
Self-inflicted Damage (Vicious Weapon) - 2  

"I'm gonna feast on yer flesh, fairy-meat!!"  

Karthan arrives on scene, from his vantage point he can make out the now familiar dwarven features of Old Oak Kreig. The dwarf is yelling at the just arrived thug, but in his right hand, gripped by the neck and hanging over an open sewer grate is the unconscious and bloodied form of Lau Fu Shan.

The dwarf is brandishing Bruiser, his greatclub in the other hand as he yells at his minion. "Yuh get yer good fer nuttin hide back dere 'n deal wit 'em! I'll have yer hide ifn ya don't" Lau's unconscious body swings like a rag doll in the dwarf's grip.

"Please ay, don't send me back!"

Kreig's Initiative - 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
He doesn't go until next round.

Top of Round 2

Lamech's Turn
Staggering under the concentrated barrage, the vile cleric's right hand warms, wax spilling between his clinched fingers as he works a summoning.

Concentration Check 1d20 ⇒ 12 Failed!!

His wounds are too great! Lamech tries to mutter the incantation to summon a creature to his aide, but as quickly as the wax in his hand warms, it cools and the spell fails. Lamech cries out in frustration as he continues to beat at the Celestial Eagle causing him dismay.

Agidor the Bard's Turn
The minstrel feels compelled to run to his master's side, but he must face the new threat. He turns to find the wretched monk having been the one to throw a javelin at him! The filty half-elf had lied!!

He quick draws a dagger and launches at his new foe.
Dagger Throw 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10 Miss!!

The minstrel puts a hand to his belt to grasp another dagger, vexed at his errant throw.

The Box
The gibbering and yammering creature within the box continues to claw at its prison, the cage jarring to and fro under its thrashings.

Unseen Creature Attack 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8 Miss!!!

Varisian Dancer
The girl joins her drumming commrade in the great beyond, expiring at her turn. Her struggles cease for all eternity.

For Karthan as he arrives in position to the west. (See Updated map I'll be sending you)

Mal'undil is down, a glass dagger hilt protruding from his chest. Fir'umil is squared off, staff held at his side and facing two opponents as though he'd just finished shouting at them. Next to the prone Mal, Olivia looks to be moving to cover the half-elf with her body, her bow drawn.

Opposite them, two humans. One is recognizable as the bard called Agidor from the Toiling Gent. There are bits of flame on his clothing, skin boiling up in sections, but he looks way better than the Varisian dancer you saw earlier.

The second human must be Lamech. He's dressed in black robes with strange symbols upon the garb that are almost sickening to see. His garb also has spots of little flames, but again he doesn't look as bad as the dancing girl.

Lamech's Group at 19
Lamech places a hand to his chest, grasping a medallion hung on what could be a platinum chain. He speaks two words in a tongue foreign to Karthan. "Oicifda nist, meelduhl!"

The dagger in Mal'undil's chest glows with a purple and blue light, the half-elf arches his back and kicks out his feet against the ground in pain. Spell Damage to Mal 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (8, 8) + 4 = 20

Agidor the BardQuick Draws a flight dagger and sends it at Fir'umil Attack Roll 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13 The dagger is deflected away as a ephemeral shield materializes and fades away.

At the Rear of the House Zandra and Lau and Thor see a figure stumble from the house through the rear door. He's burned, but not nearly as bad as the woman on the ground. He looks like the drummer from the Toiling Gent. In his hands he carries an iron and wood cube from a heavy handle. The box is roughly 2 feet cubed. Something within is gibbering and clawing at the wood sides. The drummer shakes off his damage and place his back to the corner of the back of the house, eyeballing the street, hands fumbling at the latch on the box.

The Varisian dancer is writhing on the ground in pain.

The creature staggers under the onslaught, shrieks of pain coming in waves. It does it's best to maintain its footing on the lacquered cube, but Karthan's last arrow sends it back to the void...

The conjured eagle releases the dead creature, the tiny body flopping and falling from the cube. A single word, gutteral and nearly incomprehensible falls from its dead lips.

"Q'lisshti..."

The lacquered box begins to glow more ominously, purples and dark blues and a strangely sickening hum begins to raise to horrible life. Arranged upon the drawn symbol on the floor, the candles wink out simultaneously.

An echo goes off in all the characters' minds, the distant dhin of shrieking voices, the chill depths of some unfathomable horror grows in the back of the characters' minds.

Will Save for everyone. Don't forget your bonuses against Chaos, and this is a fear effect. (+2 from Fir / +4 from Olivia)
Target is a 12, failure means you are "frightened". Save negates.

As soon as the wave of recedes from your minds, a chill blast comes from the cube, a backlash from a terrifying emptiness no one should know.
Frost Blast(damage roll) 3d6 ⇒ (3, 2, 1) = 6

Now a Fortitude save against a 15. Success halves damage.
You can use the +2 from Fir'umil on this save.

The creature and the cube are gone, the echo of the trap that it had been sitting on still in the room. The lines where the drawing on the floor had been are now overlayed with smoking frost.

"A girl following Iomedae...and three of the Eldar-kin," the little creature unfurled its wings in a flourish and swept a bow. But he remained at his ease seated atop the lacquered box. "Had I been certain of the esteemed company, I would have worn clothes."

Again, that voice, too deep for a creature that size. As your eyes adjust to the light you see a thin whip-like tail twisting and turning.

There is warmth coming from the room, the smell of a sewer...but also the scent of freshly baking candied cinnamon rolls.

Initiative Roll - 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11