What? No takers? I seriously don't have an answer for this . . .Authors Notes:
More food: I've tried to add foods that could be produced in the locations provided. Also Quick poll: what do you think the mystery meat was?
Long pork ... the other other white meat...
I'm afraid I've lost Kale's diaries, and there will be no more posts of them. I know they didn't add much, so I dout they'll be missed. Note to self: Back up hard drives when changing Motherboard, processor, memory and vid card all at once.
I say the mystery meat was parrot, or even worse, Seagull!
So long as it isn't bean curd ... or tofu ... I'd rather eat otyugh ... although one could argue that they are one and the same...
So long as it isn't bean curd ... or tofu ... I'd rather eat otyugh ... although one could argue that they are one and the same...I don't know, eating something that lives in (and eats) filth seems far worse then a plant byproduct (no matter how bland).
Then again I'm not forced to eat it regularly . . .
Weeeell, as I see it, Otyugh flesh probably 'filters' the oogy bits from the filth in question, as long as you're not snacking on the hide and 'business implements' of the critter in question.
In today's mass-food-production, I rather suspect some of the products that are on the shelves are probably not much better in origin than grilling up an otyugh...
So, I'll stick with real meat - even if I don't know much about the 'real deal' behind it. I can live in blissfull ignorance in this case, as I (currently) do not have any particular dietary restrictions to observe.
Looking forward to the revelation though Guy! <g>
Looking forward to the revelation though Guy! <g>In this case there is no answer . . . the mystery meat remains mystery meat. We could have a vote or a poll, to come to some kind of census I guess, but I really don't have the answers! That's why we're having this game of "what is Tristan eating this time?"
Seriously your guess is as good as mine. Now if you decide to DM this little scenario then the mystery meat can be whatever you like!
I didn't play up Renkrue at all other than the fun Crew #1 had with tormenting ... er, "disciplining", Avner some more.
One could also state it was giant vermin meat ... say, cockroach ... ^_^
well, as for the "other" food.... that seems harmless - I would have guessed "long pork" as well - my group were _very_ careful about counting crew before and after, since we had a related encounter in one of our Cthulhu campaigns (the joy, the memoires...).
As for Otyugh.... well we do eat pork or catfish do we - bith of which are wallowing in mud and sifting through it for nourishment.
Although Otyugh, I would presume, might need to be massibvely tendereized and probably would taste.... odd, from accumulated exotic compunds in its tissue.
Overall - entertaining as always. I just think you let Avner "off" lightly...
Nothing new this week. I’m under a mountain of homework these days. Who thought learning to teach ESL would be so hard?
Anyways, here are the previews:
The mysterious island of Ruja, distant and far from civilization, who knows what secrets lay atop its lofty cliffs . . . Tristan knows . . .
Also: Now that Tristan is free from the restraints of being captain what’s she been doing with her time? Do toads dream? And is that a glint of recklessness and danger in Tristan’s eyes? Can’t be! Everyone knows she’s the responsible one!
Ruja ... Oerth's R'lyeh ...
Perhaps . . .
Ruja ... Oerth's R'lyeh ...
Meh ... prolly not ... could be a good spot for a certain type of monolith/altar though ... out of the way, nothing else of note, presumably well-located astrologically-speaking ...
Poor James and his crappy will save. With all those extra Feats he should have taken Iron Will. LOL
nice.... especially the foreshadowing of the Island...
By the way, why did two characters take levels in "make-up" ?
Rouge 7 ? Sounds like something from 'Chanel'
The word is "rogue"...... (at least in my Oxford Dictionary ). No nit-picking at all, it just seems so "off" in this pretty excellent "diaries"
Keep it up
I hope the question is permissible without barging too much ahead, but why did Tristan (off-game ) lay down the repsonsibility of captaining the "Wyvern" ?
As a suggestion about the EWP :
A friends campaign (which I used to play in) had firearms as a cultural martial weapon proficiency (for fighters, Assasins, Artificers and Gun mages... yeah, it was infected with "Iron Kingdoms" ), so if you came from the right country/region and had the right class, you got it for free.
Of course, there was the difficulty of using a craft skill to actually reload...
Looking forward to reading more. I'm a speed reader actually.
BTW it's true that pigs are as clean as they can be, just that they tend to wallow in mud in warm climates to keep cool like most animals of that kind. If you feed them cleanly the meat will be clean.
In my AoWs campaign I simply made guns simple weapons. I like the idea of needing craft to maintain them though.The guns really aren't much better then crossbows, and when you think of all the side effects (the cost of powder and ammunition compiled with optional rules like they don't work in the rain or after getting soaked), firearms may actually be weaker than crossbows.
Hmm, they used the IK version of guns (pretty varied), and the ability of carrying two charges/bullets "at the ready" made some difference, as did them doing 2D6 of damage with a sizable crit range (Millitary pistols of some kind ). faster to load, than a heavy crossbow too, if you made the craft-skill check for it.
Still, I am not really of the mind that firearms and heroic fantasy mix too well.
As for your comment on their not being much better than crossbow, very true. then again we all have a certain RL experience/expectation as to the damge a bullet can do - while noone realises just how extremely deadly a crossbow bolt ( or arrow ) actually is. To explain - my younger brother does competition level archery and his 70lbs pull composite bow will put arrows straight through wooden shed planking at a 100' and more. He also sent a couple of arrows right through a sizable smoked bacon ham ( about 15" thick ?).
Medieval longbows etc. are even more powerful than that, so basically where a bullet hits someone in the leg, an arrow or crossbow bolt rips a bloody tunnel straight through one's chest.
In the end - bullets and crowwbow bolts scale well (IMHO) its just that they are absolutely 'underpowered' in comparison to other weaponry ( I see the game balancing reasons, though ).
Ruja. High atop its lofty cliffs I felt like a god surveying all of creation.
It felt good to get out of my cabin for the morning. I’d been staring at those same four walls the entire journey, but it wasn’t until I started copying spells into my spell book for ten hours a day that I felt those walls closing in. Getting out of that cabin felt like escaping a prison.
I had spoken with Fredrick at length about it and he was almost positive that Ruja was the exact geographical center (as the crow flies) of our voyage. My knowledge of magic, being what it was, told me that I could possibly teleport back to Sasserine from distant Farshore if I used Ruja as a hopping point. In order to accomplish this feat I’d need to acclimatize myself to the island and become familiar with its unique features. Teleportation, you see, requires the caster to know their destination, and so I made the request to Lavinia for us to drop anchor in the shade of those enormous cliffs for an hour for the expressed purpose of familiarizing myself with a location.
“Why have we stopped here?” Kale asked when I emerged from my cabin. I didn’t immediately answer him. I had thought he would have asked around . . . or perhaps he had and now wanted to hear from the horse’s mouth . . . so to speak.
“I’m going to examine the cliffs,” I said matter of factly, “so I can hopefully use it as a location for a teleport spell.”
“How are we going to get up there?” Kale asked. I looked at him for a moment, half considering laughing at him, and half considering smacking him upside the head for saying stupid things.
Thankfully I choose to do nether. Rather than answer him I cast my fly spell (through my handy meta-magic rod) and took flight. Moments later I stood on the cliffs high above the Sea Wyvern. I briefly looked back to my ship, I could still make out Kale staring up at me, but then I turned to the task at hand: finding a suitable teleportation location. I suppose Kale was just trying to be protective of me . . . trying to keep me safe, I’m not sure how he assumed this roll of my guardian but quite frankly it’s a little annoying . . . especially seeing how it’s my spells that often save his butt.
I found a nice flat piece of turf. It seemed as good a place as any to use. I walked its length a few times, studied its surroundings, looked at the plants growing on its soil, breathed the air, tried to discern distinct smells, dug and examined the dirt, and then I found its center and tried to attune my chakra to its unique ebbs and flows. Hop-Toy took the opportunity to hunt for bugs.
The world seemed a small peaceful place in that small clearing, no worries, no fears, and no responsibility. I laid back and looked to the sky. The clouds flew by like ships on a crystal clear blue sea. I felt at peace.
‘That’s good sailing weather,’ Hop-Toy mumbled as he crunched away on some unfortunate bug.
I rolled over and looked to the jungle. ‘I could simply shed my clothing and return to the forest.’ I thought, ‘no more responsibility. I’d be living solely for myself.’
‘Except you don’t know how to hunt, sew, cook, or actually physically build a shelter,’ Hop-Toy muttered. ‘You’d be dead within a week,’
I rolled back over and looked my familiar in the eyes. “Why do you have to be such a wet blanket all the time?” I asked.
‘You mean a realist?’ he asked innocently . . .
“I mean a dream crusher,” I snapped, “you know as well as I do that I’m not going to go native . . .”
‘We toads don’t dream,’ he said, ‘we’re notorious pessimists and realists. We developed poisonous skins so that when we’re inevitably eaten we kill our devourer from the inside . . . or at the very least give them indigestion. You want a dreamer you should have taken a mammal as a familiar . . . why not a mouse or a rat?'
“Or a frog,” I snapped, Hop-Toy knew that I hated rats, and if he was going to try to goad me I was going to goad right back, “I should have gotten a frog. I hear frogs are very intelligent.”
We sat in silence for a while.
“Why don’t toads dream?” I finally asked Hop-Toy.
‘When you’re constantly worrying about food, or becoming food, or when you struggling against the heat, or fighting against the cold, you don’t have time for dreams . . . and when you’re not struggling against those things you simply content. For a toad, I guess, a time of simple contentment is enough.’
“Seems sort of sad,” I said.
‘Are you not content Tristan?’ he asked.
I rolled back over and looked to the sky. “I guess I am,” I finally said.
‘And isn’t that enough?’ he asked.
“No,” I said rolling back over, “in this moment, right now I’m content, but I can’t lay here in this moment forever. Time is fleeting . . . I’ll need more out of life than this. So while I’m currently content Mr. Dan, I know that one day I’ll need something more than this. That’s why I dream . . .”
‘Then maybe you should dream about things that’ll improve your life rather than making it more difficult. You’re not dreaming about the future . . . you’re dreaming about escaping the present.’
I thought for a moment. “I suppose you’re right . . . will you forgive my harsh words?”
‘Of course,’ Hop-Toy said, ‘I trust you’ll forgive mine?’
“Of course,” I said sitting up.
‘Is the present so painful Tristan?’ Hop-Toy asked as I was packing up my things and preparing to depart.
“Are you done eating?” I asked, avoiding the question, “It’s time to return to the ship.”
‘You could always ask her,’ Hop-Toy said, ‘I see no reason why you shouldn’t at least express . . .’
I picked Hop-Toy up and stuck him in my pocket. “There are some things about human society that you don’t understand yet.” I said as I climbed back to the cliffs.
‘Because humans are perfectly smart on their own, but put them in groups and they get dumb as frogs.’
I cast my fly spell and stepped off the cliff and fell towards the water. I allowed myself to free fall for a few moments. I enjoyed the sensation, the wind against my face, the speed, and the exhilaration that came from facing death. I waited till I had dropped nearly three quarters of the distance before I started to pull up with my flight. For a moment I felt incredible weight and pressure . . . then as I leveled out and slowed my speed, I found myself almost even with the deck of my ship. I needed only drop a few feet to land beside Amella at the helm.
“I’m done Captain,” I said to Amella and the rest of the crew who were staring aghast, “we can sail whenever you’re ready.”
“Are you feeling alright Tristan?” Amella asked, “You don’t quite seem yourself today.”
“I’m fine,” I said with a shrug, to be honest I doubt I’d ever have tried anything like that a few months ago, but that was then and this was now. “I’ll be in my cabin if anyone needs me.”
The rest of the morning passed quite slowly. I continued my scribing. I had a bit of repute when I took a shift commanding the helm, mainly to give Amella a chance to eat, but by mid afternoon I was back in my room. I’m nearly three quarters done now. It’s funny that something that might have given me a lot of pleasure a scant three months ago now seemed tedious work. When I grew tired I closed my eyes, rubbed my temples, and imagined Renkru or Ruja. Maybe when all this is done I’ll come back and spend some serious time there.
I could imagine building a keep on the isle of Ruja, with its impressive cliffs it would be practically impenetrable without flight or magic, but getting a crew capable of building atop the island would be near impossible . . . the same is true of supplies and provisions. Perhaps someday, with magic, but until then I should put my engineering skills to more practical functions.
Renkru was beautiful. Spending a winter wandering it’s beaches and hills would be lovely. I want to return for more practical reasons as well, Conrad asked to be left behind there, and although I really didn’t want to leave him with those unsuspecting villagers, but I liked the idea of him coming with us even less. I guess I shouldn’t say unsuspecting villagers, I made sure the chief and Brent knew about Conrad’s dishonest past, but I’d still like to return and be sure he wasn’t up to his old tricks.
I think I’ve said enough for tonight, it’s late and I’m tired of writing, and tomorrow is another day.
Contentment is close enough to happiness,
Cthulhu dreams
Kale didn't understand what was so important about having to see the top of that island. In game Kale asked why Tristan needed to go up there and was promtly told that it was for a spell and zoomed off. Kale just thought she needed to get away from everyone for a while again.
Hey, Kale didn't dissagree with having another preist on board! In fact he was the only one that didn't fight her on that.
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Something I really like about how you have presented the trip to the Isle of Dread in your journal is just how long and tedious the journey is. I know when I ran the adventure for my group, we really glossed over the sailing "time" and focused on the combat encounters. We did little roleplaying in the various isles and forts and such and it didn't take much time in real time to get to the isle. Your journal is really showing in game, just how long and arduous that voyage was, and the associated dangers of the trip. I have another group I am going to run the STAP for in the not too distant future, and this has made me really want to spend more time on the trip to the isle to give the PC's a sense of just how long and dangerous the voyage is.
Something I really like about how you have presented the trip to the Isle of Dread in your journal is just how long and tedious the journey is. I know when I ran the adventure for my group, we really glossed over the sailing "time" and focused on the combat encounters. We did little roleplaying in the various isles and forts and such and it didn't take much time in real time to get to the isle. Your journal is really showing in game, just how long and arduous that voyage was, and the associated dangers of the trip. I have another group I am going to run the STAP for in the not too distant future, and this has made me really want to spend more time on the trip to the isle to give the PC's a sense of just how long and dangerous the voyage is.
Agreed, the trip is about 3 months IIRC - far longer than I personally am inclined to present it to my groups. However, this journal does an excellent job of conveying the grind of such an gruelling trip. o7 to Lidu and her crew.
I as well take note of that. Most interesting. I also like the little interlude you posted--out of curiousity do you really get fun rping time with your familiar? I like having moments like that too.
Hey, Kale didn't dissagree with having another preist on board! In fact he was the only one that didn't fight her on that.I know, but I'm pretty sure Kale disagreed with Tristan about something in an upcoming entry . . . which is why Kale was left to float while Tristan D-doored the ladies back to the ship (I trust you know what I'm talking about).
Also: I can say without a doubt that we've been playing this game for a year now! It was about this time last year that we started the savage tide, and here we are, one year later, almost half done! Huzzah!
I do remember that argument. Thing is was Kale was right that time and Tristan was just sulking about it. LOL
Nope, wrong argument, I'm talking about the one on the ship before we set out (it's pretty bad when Tristan and Kale have multiple arguments so we're confused as to which fight we're talking about). This was fight was about equipment. Tristan wanted to being something on the expedition and Kale (amongst others) refused. This was the reason we were floating and clinging to drift wood in the first place.I do remember that argument. Thing is was Kale was right that time and Tristan was just sulking about it. LOLHey, Kale didn't dissagree with having another preist on board! In fact he was the only one that didn't fight her on that.I know, but I'm pretty sure Kale disagreed with Tristan about something in an upcoming entry . . . which is why Kale was left to float while Tristan D-doored the ladies back to the ship (I trust you know what I'm talking about).
Also: I can say without a doubt that we've been playing this game for a year now! It was about this time last year that we started the savage tide, and here we are, one year later, almost half done! Huzzah!
You'll have to remind me of said item tommorrow.
The Blue Nixie is gone!
Yesterday, before the setting sun, we were hit by a powerful storm. The blasted thing didn’t catch us unawares, we caught sight of the clouds before noon, but because we were on the open waters we were left with no options but to try and out run it. That didn’t work. So we were left with no option but to ride it out. We felt the wind early and by mid afternoon we were forced to lower our sails for fear of tearing them. By supper time it was so dark it might as well have been night, the water was choppy, and the wind howled pounding us with driving rain . . . this wasn’t the worst though . . . the night was still young!
At this point we could still see the Blue Nixie. The larger ship wasn’t getting blown around quite as much but no matter the size of the ship the ocean was always bigger. Osprem has been known to skink ships that show her contempt! As the weather grew worse our ships floated farther and farther apart. The heavy rain reduced visibility and soon our lookout could no longer make out the lanterns on the Blue Nixie. Again, these were the least of our problems!
After we were forced to lower our sails the storm caught up with us quite quickly. The deck of our ship rolled something fierce as the Wyvern began riding waves as high as fourteen feet. The crests sometimes splashed under the railing . . . but again the worst was yet to come. We had all hands on deck, our ship was fairly water tight, but with those waves splashing over the rails, we needed a crew to man the pumps. There was little for me to do unfortunately. I retired to the cabin to ride out the storm. I left the ship in Amella capable hands.
I didn’t dare light a candle for fear of it falling off the nightstand and setting the entire room ablaze. We did light the room’s central lantern, turning it down to low, and I pulled out my ever-burning torch for extra lighting. Churtle joined us after a bit. She had allowed the fire in her kitchen to go out (the rain was actually pouring down the stove pipe so the fire was spitting out a lot of black smoke and steam). She had to fight to get the cabin door closed behind her. For a moment it looked as though the wind was more powerful than her!
We talked quietly as the storm raged outside. The ship began rocking quite violently. I didn’t know it at the time but those fourteen foot crests were starting to look puny compared to the waves the Sea Wyvern was ridding now. I could feel the fear and tension radiating from the hold bellow. We all knew that the storm was going to get worse. The ship creaked. The room tilted one way and then the other. Water sometimes washed in under the door or trickled in through the windows.
Then, after a particularly nasty jolt, we heard the words we all dreaded, from somewhere outside I heard Rodger screaming “Man overboard, man overboard.”
I rose to see what I could do . . . but the ship was still being tossed about on the waves, the bed seemed to drop away from underneath me, I kicked out my legs to compensate, but just then the boat shifted suddenly the other way! I was catapulted across the room. I felt myself falling. Only instead of down it was sideways. It felt a bit like flying. Then I hit the wall. Head first. I think I might have blacked out for a moment.
“Are you alright,” I hear Buffy ask from somewhere far away, I tried to roll onto my back, but I quickly realized that I was on my knees wedged, face first, into a corner, “Let me help . . .” Buffy was saying, it was pretty clear, even in my dazed state, that Buffy was trying hard not to laugh. “I’ll get you,” she said.
I turned in time to see karma wipe the smile of Buffy’s face. As she climbed out of her bunk the ship shifted unexpectedly again. Buffy lost her footing and found herself on the floor next to me. I don’t think she hit quite as hard as me . . . unfortunately. She did hit with a satisfying thump though. I heard her groan as she struggled back to her feet.
Outside I could hear the shouts of out men.
“Grab the line,” someone, possibly Davy, was shouting.
“Pull ‘em back in,” someone, possibly John, hollered.
“James!” screamed Orlani.
“S’all right lov’” James laughed, “I’m safe now. Good thing I tied m’self off.”
“Look out,” yelled Amella from the helm above us, “We’re gonna hit another wave!”
“James!” Orlani was shouting, “Grab hold of something!”
“Nonsense,” James laughed, “It would have to be a pretty big wave to knock an old salt like me off . . .”
James’ voice was drowned out by the crash of another wave.
“Man overboard!” Rodger called.
“James!” I heard Orlani shouting again.
I picked myself up. The room was spinning worse than before, partly because of the waves, but mainly because of my head. I checked to see if I was bleeding, I felt the beginnings of a truly nasty bump, but thankfully my hands showed only pale.
“You should lie down,” Buffy was saying, “You still look a bit woozy.”
I was going to argue the point, but the next wave left me with a bad case of vertigo, and I found myself clinging to our table (which was thankfully bolted to the floor) unsure of which was up or down. Buffy helped me to my bunk and I found myself clinging to the sides scared that I was going to fall onto the roof.
“You ok boss?” Churtle asked, popping her head suddenly into my field of vision.
“I think so,” I said trying to fight off a sudden chill, “I did hit my head pretty bad I think . . .”
“Ya you gots a big bump,” she said giving it an experimental poke.
“Owe!” I snapped.
“Kinda sensitive too,” Churtle said with clinical detachment. “Your face looks kinda lop-sided, you wants me to bump the other side so you don’t look so silly?”
“Churtle,” I said through clinched teeth, “Maybe you should sit down somewhere so you don’t get hurt as well.”
“Oh, no problems boss,” she chirped with glee, “we koblods gots good balance.”
“I see,” I muttered, closing my eyes. There had been a slight hint of a threat in my last statement, but it had come out under duress, and as far as I could tell Churtle wasn’t trying to be annoying. I decided to let it slip . . . for the time being.
“And we don’t have as far to fall,” Churtle added, “big folks always hurting themselves just falling over . . . and our heads are so big and round . . .”
“Yes Churtle,” I said.
“Like pumpkins,” she continued, “I hopes your head doesn’t gets all rotten now . . .”
I opened an eye to glare at her, and I’m guessing that there was some venom in that glare because she let out a chirp of surprise and quickly made herself scarce. I closed my eye and listened to the roar of the storm. James might have been killed, but at that moment, with my head feeling the way it did, I could care less.
Time passed.
For most of the storm I clung to my bunk. The way the waves tossed the Wyvern about, I needed to do so, or else be tossed out of bed again. I must have passed out, or drifted off to sleep, because I snapped awake a few times during the night, just moments before the ship’s violent movement could toss me to the floor. That was perhaps the work of Hop-Toy. When I opened my eyes again the ship had settled.
Well . . . settled by comparison, the ship was still ridding on rough waters, but there was no danger of being flung across the room. I stepped over to the door, the wind had stopped howling, and it sounded as though the rain had let up a bit. I glanced about the cabin, Kiki had somehow found her way back to the cabin during the night, but Churtle had left. For a moment I felt guilty for glaring at her, but then I realized that it must have been close to morning, and the kobold cook had probably gone to the kitchen to start breakfast.
I stepped out onto the deck. There was no need for me to dress - I was wearing the same thing I had on last night. I glanced about the main deck, a few crew members were tidying up from the storm. The sails were still down, but I suspected that they’d be raised soon. I found Amella at the helm, at the wheel, looking bone tiered.
“Why don’t you let me take over,” I said.
She looked at me, but it took a few moments for her to register what she was seeing and hearing. “Hello Tristan,” she said after a moment, “that’s a nasty looking bump you got there.”
“You should see the wall,” I said dryly. “You look weary, let me take over.”
“Storm could come back,” she said, loosening her grip at the wheel somewhat.
“If it does I’ll be sure to send someone after you.” I said honestly. Amella nodded and let me take the wheel.
“James should be back in a couple of hours,” Amella said as she was leaving, “I sent him to get some grub and a bit of shut eye when the storm started to break.”
“Thank Norebo he’s alright,” I said with a sigh of relief, last night I thought he might have been killed.
“Norebo?” Amella spat, “isn’t he that Suel luck god?”
“Um, yes,” I said, terrified that Amella was about to same something blasphemous.
“Well he wasn’t with that fool James last night,” she said, “we were lucky last night, because we only lost two people over the side last night . . . but they were both James. Thank your Suloise god of knots or ropes or whatever, if James hadn’t the sense to tie a safety line I doubt we’d have seen him again after the first time he got washed over!”
“But he’s alright?” I asked.
“As all right as he gets I think,” Amella shrugged, “one can only hope that this experience knocked some sense into him. Bloody fool, you don’t take risks in a storm, even if you do have salt water in your veins . . . or else you end up with salt water in your lungs!”
Amella retreated bellow and I spent some time at the wheel. The water was still quite choppy, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Something was bothering me though, and it wasn’t the throbbing of my head. I scanned the horizon. The Blue Nixie was gone!
I felt a moment of panic. Lavinia! I forced those feeling down immediately. I glanced about the main deck again. My eyes found one of the people I was after.
“Skald,” I called, “I need you in the crow’s nest.”
He glanced up at me, “I think Tavey’s up there now,” he said, “Amella said she needed me to help Fredrick when he comes up . . .”
“You have the best eyes on this boat,” I snapped, “I need you to look for the Blue Nixie!”
I may have snapped a bit too loudly. Some of the others began nervously scanning the horizon. The last thing I wanted was a panic.
“We all know where we’re going,” I said to elevate some of the worry, “and I don’t doubt for a second that Fredrick will be able to chart a successful course, but traveling in a convoy is always safer in case of emergencies. The sooner we rejoin the better.”
Skald climbed to the crow’s nest and had a look around. “No sign of them, Cap . . . er, Mam,” he shouted down.
“And the storm?” I shouted up.
“Breaking up,” he said, “sun should be breaking through soon.”
James stumbled top side about this moment. “What’s all the shoutn’ about?” he asked.
“We lost sight of the Nixie,” I said, trying not to sound worried, “but I doubt she’s sunk . . .”
“Skald,” James shouted up, “any debris on the water?”
Skald had another look around. “Nothing,” he shouted, “water looks pretty clean.”
“Well that’s a good sign,” James said, “If the Nixie went down she’d have coughed up a lot of debris. Water’s clear so she’s likely still afloat somewhere.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Still,” he said thoughtfully, “if you get the chance later, you might want to use that magic of yours and give the area a flyby. You could see more in the air then Skald could see from the crow’s nest. I’d wait for the clouds to break first.”
I took his advice, and when Buffy came to relieve me, I added my fly spell to my daily allotment. Unfortunately, despite my eagerness, the clouds didn’t dissipate till mid afternoon. By then the sea had settled and the winds had dropped off considerably. I climbed high above the scrawling sea but I saw only one speck on the water and that was our own ship. Still, I knew somehow that Lavinia was alive and well, and we still had our orders:
“Should our ships become separated,” Lavinia had said those many weeks ago at the party aboard the Nixie, “we must continue on to Farshore and reunite there. I want and need this colony to succeed. It shall be a long and dangerous journey, and we should all pray that we make it there safely, but should disaster strike we must ensure that at least part of our supplies and provisions makes it to the fledgling settlement.”
Despite my fears I’ll see our ship though,
Cthulhu dreams
Wow, I'm really far behind with my reading now. I think I've missed maybe the last 5 or 6 entries. Hopefully I'll have time to read it again soon as this was one of my favorite journals.
