As promised, the Journal of Augustus Finn

[Story Archer]

Any and all comments or questions are enthusiastically encouraged.

The Journal of Augustus Finn

The earliest days of my life as a pirate were not the kindest nor gentlest of my recollections, though even still, there was an inauspicious simplicity of those days spent merely trying to survive from dawn til dusk, a calming pragmatism in being able to focus on the task before me, whether a torn bit of sail in need of patching or rigging that must be securely bound… mundane tasks upon which you could focus your full attentions without thought of what was to come. That and the easy camaraderie of those whom shared your plight, your hardship and the utter exhaustion with which one approaches his bunk after a day honestly spent in meaningful labor. I find I miss being part of a simple crew and though those days aboard the Wormwood were oft-times brutal and set the stage for all that was to come, I still find myself looking back with a bit of nostalgia and missing shipmates long lost to time and tide.

I will attempt to relive those days through this journal as best I can, though I hope the reader will forgive the blurring of details over time and perhaps a touch of romantic license on my part as our histories are so often viewed through a looking glass that emphasizes both the bitter and the sweet, leaving all else to fade into the grey mists of time.

First I suppose that I should tell you something of myself – or rather, something of myself as I was then. I had been in a small village of elves who made their home by the sea. My father had been a human pirate, though apparently not one of any great repute, and had planted me in the belly of an unfortunate elven maiden whom had caught his eye during a raid. She had born me with a quiet shame an raised me in much the same fashion. As a result I grew up a bit of an outcast if not technically an exile, which I suspect is what first drew Llira to me. Llira is a spirit of sorts, either elemental or fey in nature – I was never able to fully ascertain which and she could not tell me – and she too was an outcast in her own way. She came to me at first as a slight sea elven girl, a form intended to please me I imagine, though even at first glance it was easy to see that there was something other-worldly about her. She was a mute, having been unable to master our tongue or any that I could understand, but I knew her thoughts as I knew my own and we sensed in one another a kindred spirit. She was more lost than I as at least I knew my origins, however shameful they might have been and in time I discovered that I could summon her almost with a thought.

With her help I began to learn to summon other spirits as well – I was far from the elemental mastery I would one day know however, at the time being limited to creatures I knew well such as sea shrikes and the over-sized dire rats that seemed ubiquitous in seaside communities. Still, it was a rare talent and with it I had left my village behind and set out to seek my fortune with my shy companion never more than a thought away. It was in such fashion and with such limited means that I made my way to Port Peril with vague intentions about following in my father’s footsteps until something better came along.

The Wormwood Mutiny, Part One: The Wormwood

Spoiler:

[GM’s note: All characters started off at 2nd level but with 0 experience.
At this time, Augustus, known as ‘Finn’ is a 2nd level half-elven Master Summoner with a medium-sized bipedal eidolon who can breathe underwater and swim with alacrity.
Siomara is a 1st level elven Crossblooded Sorcerer (fey and infernal) as well as a 1st level Bard of the Lotus Geisha variety. Her mixed heritage grants her the ability to cast very powerful charm and compulsion spells but leaves her vulnerable to such effects as well.
Kurusk is a 2nd level half-orc Barbarian with the Invulnerable Rager archetype. He has only begun to feel the stirrings of the magic of the draconic blood that is his ancestral birthright.
Daemar is a human, a 2nd level Barbarian of the Urban Barbarian archetype which represents in our game a very special form of combat training.]

Day One:
This morning was the very definition of a rude awakening – little is remembered of the night before… I had found myself in what could hardly be described as a reputable establishment; though being a bit low on funds hardly put me in position to be choosy. The Formidable Maid I believe it was called, though the pounding in my head makes it difficult to be certain, a doughty place not far from the docks of Port Peril – a villainous hive is ever there were one. The crew of the pirate ship Wormwood had apparently put into port with booty to spend and as is my wont when coin is scarce, I had joined in the celebration of the rough-tongued but seemingly good-natured fellows. Alas, nothing comes free and it seems that I would be paying for my excesses at a far steeper price than the customary aches and pains of a morning come too soon and too bright.

We were awoken by a Master Scourge and his fellows with a few rough words and rougher kicks. The less than subtle symbolism in the name our antagonist bore made me hope that perhaps this was a merely a foul dream, while the lack of creativity it exhibited assured me that if it were, the dream was most certainly not mine. I and my compatriots – similarly disposed last night and similarly indisposed this morning – were informed that we had been taken aboard the Wormwood to round out their crew… ‘press-ganged’, I believe the term is, and a sorry need they must have had to have taken on such as we. The sea might be in my blood, but it had not figured overmuch into my intention on how best to spill it… perhaps I was simply like one of those bait fish hauled ashore with the broader catch, though in truth that analogy brought no comfort considering the only use bait fish usually found.

One of the others, a large, rather brutish fellow, seemed to take umbrage at having had his person seized and expressed it by seizing one of their persons in turn. Even battered as my senses were, I was astounded at the strength the man exhibited. He was huge, certainly, but seemed driven by a singular rage to have been taken so and in truth I believe he caught our captors by surprise. Two were down and another nursing a bloody nose by the time they finally beat him into submission, dragging his bulk up onto deck where the rest of us were herded and dropping him like a so much dead weight at our feet. Upon closer inspection, he did not appear completely human – or if so, he was one of the uglier specimens I had come across. More likely he had orcish blood running through his veins which would have explained both the freakish strength his anger had allowed him to summon and the rather foolhardy use he had put it to. We were, after all, at sea, and the open ocean was more formidable a foe than any gang of club-wielding toughs.

There on decks we were met by the captain, one Barnabas Harrigan by name, who introduced himself and then just as quickly dismissed us from thought as he went about the greater concerns of his vessel. We were instead left to the tender mercies of his first mate Mr. Plugg and the aforementioned Master Scourge who set to with his lash as if every cut of it brought him as much pleasure as it did pain to its target. We were directed to climb the rigging of the main mast all the way to the crow’s nest and I – eager to escape the scourge of Scourge – quickly complied. I managed to reach the top first, either due to my natural nimbleness, the love I bear for heights or perhaps simply because I can manage a morning hang-over better than most. By the time I reached the deck once more, Plugg was still kicking and taunting the barely conscious half-breed as if the man could have managed to stand much less climb after the beating he had taken. He took pause in his abuse to name me to the rigging crew for my efforts and then glanced around asking if there was a cook amongst us. None answered, so he singled out a comely lass – an elven girl I remembered from the evening before as much for her story-telling as for her rather alluring smile - and directed her to the galley. His eyes were not the only ones to move over her in a licentious manner as she went, and I suspected that her being sent to the kitchens would serve primarily to keep her out of trouble with the rest of the crew, if only because the lecher intended to keep her to himself.

The day was spent learning our tasks and brutal they were. I counted myself lucky to have earned a spot in the rigging, beyond the greater share of Master Scourge’s attentions and out of reach of his lash for the most part. My fellows who were relegated to duty as swabs fared worse though there were no more outbreaks of violence that day. As for myself, I found myself working most closely with a halfling by the name of Ratline… he was a taciturn fellow, quite unlike the usual gregarious nature of the race though I supposed life aboard ship had been hard on him. He was missing fingers and more than a couple of teeth, but he was as spry in the rigging as I was and despite his reluctance to engage me in conversation, we seemed to work well together. By the end of the day one of my witticisms even managed to evoke a grin, which I counted as a personal victory, small though it might be given our present circumstances.

As harsh as the day had been and as exhausting the work, I found myself in better spirits than I had expected by the time we were again assembled on deck late that afternoon. My positive outlook would not last long. A fellow was brought on deck before those of us gathered, looking much the worse for wear, and introduced to us as Jakes Magpie, a member of this crew and an admitted thief from the quartermaster’s store. He was summarily sentenced to a keelhauling, something I had heard described but never witnessed and I prayed never would again. Bound he was by stout ropes to wrists and ankles and tossed into the sea only to be drug along the boat’s bottom from bow to stern by several crew members – Mr. Plugg seemed to take a perverse and fiendish pleasure in handling the ropes himself as the punishment was administered. The keelhauling took long enough that by the time he was drug back up the far side of the ship that I was certain he would have drowned… but I was quickly proven wrong as the bloody remains brought on deck could not possibly have survived long enough to suffer such a kind fate. What was left of Jakes Magpie was tossed overboard to feed the sharks that had gathered at the scent of so much blood in the water, and that was the story of him.

The evening was a sober one, with even the rough chuckles and sneering comments of those who had participated in the keel-hauling subdued. There was little conversation as each of us reflected on the new reality of our lives and alternately contemplated escape or resolved to simply be put to a better end than what we had just witnessed. There was another halfling aboard – the only other as best I could tell – and her name was Rosie Cusswell. She turned out to be as aptly named as our friend Master Scourge as she and I and Ratline gathered together in the shadows of the sterncastle, content to be out of sight for a time. From that vantage, I listened as Rosie told her story, one not terribly dissimilar from my own as she too was newly arrived, and kept an eye on the rest of my kidnapped compatriots. The big half-breed had retired early below decks, no doubt exhausted as much from the day’s hard labor as from its inauspicious beginnings… another fellow whom had been taken with us, nearly as large as the first, spoke quietly with a redheaded pirate of solicitous nature, and from the look Master Scourge gave them both in passing, I expected that bit of attention would cost him dear. Our newly-made cook’s mate stood at the railing not far away looking out to sea, conversing with a rather dramatic and foppish little gnome who’s gaze seemed drawn to our hiding place as often as it was to her rather impressive bosom. From her demeanor, I suspected that she was good-naturedly patronizing him in the manner of beautiful women faced with well-meaning but self-involved males… and in the manner of well-meaning but self-involved males, he seemed contentedly oblivious to that fact.

I close unsure of what the coming days will bring, having resolved only to escape notice of the first mate and his lackey as much as possible and to keep a weather eye out for any opportunities to improve my situation… I prefer for the moment to keep Llira a secret, as I cannot imagine that her appearance will do me any good.

[GM’s note: we decided to do away with the Rum Ration as being too cumbersome and poorly thought out. Rum was offered to the crew at dinner however, and the rules were kept in case anyone over-indulged.]

Day Two
Our second day began almost as roughly as our first. We were met in the passageway by a handful of crewmen, toughs looking to haze their new fellows or perhaps simply ensure that we knew our place in the hierarchy of things. Harsh words were exchanged and predictably an altercation ensued – I avoided entanglement by muttering a few words of magic and dazing the one sailor who had thought to accost me, slipping by as the scrum began. The Cook’s mate was caught up rather eagerly by another crewman as the scuffle became an all-out brawl between the remainder of our assailants and the other two. In a bit of ill-conceived gallantry, Conchobhar (the gnome) attempted to intercede on her behalf and took a kick to the gut for his troubles – I suspect that his flair for the dramatic and his weakness for damsels in apparent distress will be his undoing one day. On the balance, I can say with some pride that in the cramped confines of the passageway, my two compatriots gave far better than they got and no less than five of our foes were nursing broken noses and split lips by the time all made it out on deck. The boatswain was indifferent to whom had started the fracas or why, and all involved – excepting myself - received lashes for being late to the muster bell.

I learned a bit more about my fellow captives today – the elven woman is named Siomara, and from both the grace she displays and her artful ability at conversation, from inflection and intonation to seemingly casual touches that emphasize this word or that, I suspect that she has had some formal training in such things. Kurusk, the half-breed who had such a difficult time of it our first day is her exact opposite, massive rather than slight, as brusque with his words as he is with his actions, though there is a rough humor about him that makes him likeable nonetheless. It seems that he had been press ganged before and had recently escaped only to find himself back at sea in the same circumstance… which explains both his initial outburst and his current resignation to his fate. The fourth member of the Wormwood’s haul in Port Peril – apart from myself – is a fellow named Daemar. He moves with the easy deliberation of one well-accustomed to combat if not quite with the rolling gait of a sailor-born. He is stoic, taciturn and chooses to keep to himself, saving what few words he has for the redhead who has all but adopted him, and is ever watchful of the first mate and the master-at-arms Scourge. Of us all he seems the most comfortable with his situation and I suspect that he is already considering a move up in the ranks of this crew. The way Scourge eyes him whenever he and Sandara cross paths I fear such a promotion would only come as a result of violence.

Speaking of Sandara – the redheaded pirate who has taken to Daemar – I have discovered her to be a fascinating individual. Of the ship’s crew she seems the most amenable to conversation, perhaps too much so at times, though without the braggadocio that makes Conchobahr both amusing and tedious in equal measure. She entertained us with tales aboard ship, including how she duped the quartermaster – another orcish halfbreed – into returning her belongings by playing on her superstitions and intimating that they were cursed. It turns out that she is an ardent follower of the pirate goddess Besmara and despite her personal distaste for Plugg and Scourge, she has a care for both this ship and many of its crew. She has warned us that Captain Harrigan is a fearsome and capable man and a captain infamous for both his daring and his brutality. He is clearly not a man to be crossed lightly.

In the evening, I again gathered with my new friends – I believe that I am beginning to win Ratline over as we again worked well together in the rigging. Rosie on the other hand remains guarded, content to keep our company only because we seem to want nothing from her, but this eve she mentioned ruefully that her fiddle had been taken from her when she was brought aboard along with everything else, and that more than anything she longed to have back. From what Sandara told us, all such possessions were claimed as ship’s property and are being kept in the quartermaster’s store. After witnessing the fate of poor Jakes Magpie only yesterday, I have little urge to try my hand at thievery but I wonder if Grok’s superstitions can be successfully played upon a second time…

Day Four
Opportunities to write are becoming fewer and further between as the exhaustion common to such labors begins to wear on me. Our third day aboard brought little of note. In speaking with Siomara, I have learned that the cook is a fair enough fellow, especially compared to many others aboard, but that the nature of this ship has all but broken him and that he spends much of his time aboard in a drunken stupor – even more so now that he has a mate to assist him, often leaving her with the lion’s share of the thankless task of feeding such a large and raucous crew.

We had an odd occurrence today – young Jack Scrimshaw, an affable enough lad, all things considered, was on rat-catching duties below decks and came out of the bilges with a nasty bite. Upon hearing his report, Plugg immediately chose Kurusk and Daemar to go investigate, and then as a seeming afterthought tossed me into the mix as well. It’s becoming clear that he bears no love for our little group and I’m beginning to suspect that all such unpleasant duties shall begin to fall to us. We ventured down into the bilges uncertain what to expect – we had heard there was a fair infestation of bilge spiders down there from other members of the crew but I doubted that would have accounted for Scrimshaw’s piqued look. Sure enough, there were several of rats of monstrous size – dire rats – milling through the bilge water, their sleek coats all but obscured except when they moved about. Neither of my compatriots had any weapons handy except for a dagger that Sandara had slipped Falkirk and that would hardly be equal to the task… fortunately my particular talent was.

I had the other two secure the trapdoor – I was not yet ready to have my abilities become common knowledge – and I summoned spirit counterparts to the rats themselves, enough to ensure that they would be more than a match for the disgusting creatures. The battle was joined and within a few moments it was over. As my summoned creatures dissolved into the ether from which they had come, Kurusk and Daemar gathered up the dead rodents (six in all), and laid them out to show to the First Mate. We also took the unsupervised time to examine the bilge area closer, in part to make certain that we had dealt with all the vermin and in part to see what we might discover amongst the refuse. There were several weapons, spotted with rust from disuse but still serviceable which we took care to secret away on the off chance that they might be needed at some point… I also turned up a pair of tindertwigs and a small pouch of gold which I kept to myself for now.

We brought the nasty beasts on deck to show the first mate and it was deduced that they had come from a dodgy consignment of grain picked up in Port Peril. The grain and the rats went overboard (which I was pleased to see given the uncertain origins of dinner the night before) and we were returned to our tasks. Daemar was selected by Scourge to replace Jack Scrimshaw below decks in the bilges which had been stifling and miserable in the brief half-hour or so we had spent down there – I did not envy the big man the enmity he had earned from the boatswain. That evening, Siomara entertained us all with stories of a ghost ship called the Deathknell rumored to have plagued the Slithering Coasts, and of the hook-handed captain who commanded the undead crew. All listened, enraptured and with a healthy dose of sober respect, superstitious lot that sailors were… though I’ll confess that I did not sleep as well that night as I might have, so excellent had been the telling.

Day Five
As I suspected would be the case, Daemar found himself assigned to the bilges once more, as miserable a chore as I can imagine aboard ship. I had my hands full working the mainsail today, but again Ratline and I were able to move more nimbly in the rigging than the other crewmen working with us and I managed to avoid the lash of Scourge. Kurusk unfortunately did not – he was set to making repairs and splicing rope and large as his hands were they did not prove so dexterous. Scourge made sure he felt the lash more than once, darkening the half-breed’s mood to the point that I was surprised he did not erupt in anger. That evening, however, he got a degree of revenge.

Daemar came on deck in time for the Bloody Hour clearly on the brink of exhaustion and was met by Sandara which openly infuriated Scourge to no end. When Plugg brought his ‘pet’ - the pitiful creature known as Hartshorn - onto deck for a bit of sport, Scourge was in his ear almost immediately. More and more it’s becoming clear that there is little separation between the two of them, apart from that of bully and lickspittle. Plugg challenged the newer crew members to a bout with the big man, singling out Rosie and Daemar. Despite his fatigue, Daemar began to rise to the task – I suspect in an effort to spare the diminutive Rosie – but he was forestalled by Kurusk who saw an opportunity to exact his revenge on Plugg’s pet if not on Plug and the boatswain themselves.

Now, with regards to Hartshorn it must be said that I’ve rarely seen a more pathetic figure. He was massive, certainly, and looked able to rip a yardarm free if he wished, but it was also clear that he had been poorly kept and miserably treated. He was blind in one eye – or appeared to be – bore far more scars on his body than he could have rightly earned and even still sported poorly-healed burns infected with white feathers – apparently the results of a jape by some of the crew when they tarred and feathered their ‘Owlbear’. Worse yet it seemed the dim creature had surrendered to their abuse, actively making a greater fool of himself to curry their favor. Despite his brutish size, I could feel little more than pity for him.

The fight itself was something of an event. Money changed hands as bets were made, and the two fighters circled one another warily before Kurusk finally took the fight to him. Again the half-breed channeled this inner rage he seemed to keep a tight lid on and used it to his advantage – Hartshorn was no trained fighter, no nimble blade to use his foe’s size and aggression against him. No, he met him blow for blow and while Kurusk seemed to shrug off his clumsy attacks, the blows he gave in return were staggering. Hartshorn was overcome fairly quickly and began to retreat before Plugg cruelly admonished him and tossed the man a massive club to use in his defense. Kurusk showed little concern that his foe was now armed, and the first blow that landed seemed only to enrage him further though it would certainly have staggered me had I been in his place. It was not long before he had Hartshorn in full retreat, reduced to a blubbering mass as the rest of the crew mocked him and made sport. Our comrade, caught up in his rage, moved in to finish him but Daemar chose then to intercede, calling the half-breed off and attempting to restrain him until he calmed down. The crew grumbled over that turn of events but their hearts were clearly not in it, and while Scourge and Plugg’s enmity towards Daemar and the rest of us no doubt grew, I suspect we may have made a friend in the beleaguered Hartshorn.

Day Six
Daemar continues to draw bilge duty but endures it stoically. Sandara seems to help a great deal in both his keeping an even keel and in his physical recovery as well. It seems his brusque manner matters not at all to her, even when she bears the brunt of it.

Siomara found out from the cook Kroop – during one of his lucid moments I imagine – that Hartshorn has an affinity for small, live crabs that he usually uses to flavor stew. She managed to pilfer a small sack of them and sneak them down to the poor fellow to try and make amends for his hard use yesterday. If Daemar earned his gratitude, I suspect that Siomara has earned his undying devotion. She has that effect on most of us whenever we become the sole focus of her attentions, whether casual flirtation or sincerely offered concern, she is most bewitching in that respect.

The weather is getting rougher and word is that a storm of some intensity is brewing. Should it catch us, I do not know when next I shall get the opportunity to write.

Day Ten
I write with a heavy heart today. The storm did indeed catch us and for a time there was genuine concern that we would not survive it. In point of fact, not all of us did. My friend Ratline is lost.

When the storm hit not all of us were prepared for its intensity. Both Ratline and myself took lashes for how poorly we handled our tasks in the rough weather that presaged the storm’s full fury. By the time it had us in its grip most of the crew were in the rigging, tending to sails, loose bow lines and the like. It was both unrelenting and exhausting, carrying us through the night and into the morning of the next day. Sometime during the night when we were rocked sharply to one side by a rogue wave, Ratline lost his grip and tumbled from the rigging into the sea. Kurusk and I reacted as quickly as we could, trying to get him a line before he disappeared beneath the waves, but the sea took him too swiftly and there was naught we could do. It is with no shame that I admit that by the time the storm had subsided all of us had felt the lash more than once for how poorly we reacted, for how unprepared we were for such a tempest. As uncouth and unclean as these pirates appear, the crew is a capable lot, and there is no doubt in my mind that we would have been lost if not for such experienced hands.

The following day was almost unbearable as fatigue set deep into our bones and the weight of Ratline’s loss bore on me like a stone about my neck. Still, the ship had repairs that needed to be made, more than I can count and there would be no rest until they were tended to. Hungry as I was, I collapsed into my bunk and slept until awoken the next morning.

Day Eleven
This morning we awoke to clear skies and a cooler breezes, the sort that can only follow such a violent storm. We are approaching the Slithering Coast and extra attention needs to be paid to navigating the shallower waters. Rosie has been moved to the rigging to make up for Ratline’s loss and she has shown a greater natural aptitude than I – in fact, the only advantage I have over her is longer arms and my preference for heights, a preference she most certainly does not share.

As afternoon wore on, she and I were called down and assembled, along with Siomara, Kurusk and Daemar. Siomara was carrying six crab pots and Mister Plugg informed us that since we were nearing a host of reefs, the Captain wanted to take full advantage and have some crabs gathered for his supper. We were the ‘volunteers’ who would swim out to reef while the ship anchored for a couple of hours to make the last of its repairs and were to return with pots full – or not at all. I doubted the veracity of the threat as the ship was already undermanned, but I did not doubt that if we failed in our task, it would provide Plugg and Scourge the excuse to all but flay us alive. That was more than motivation enough.

As we were lowered into the water and began our swim, Daemar and Kurusk took the crab pots interwoven with a bit of netting and began to swim. Siomara had had the foresight to swipe a couple of hand axes that the Cook used to butcher the ship’s pigs in case we encountered any trouble at the reefs. To be honest, it was a pleasure to be out from under Scourge’s thumb and Plugg’s eye, even if it was only for a fleeting hour or two.

The crab gathering began without incident as the reef was alive with crabs of various sizes. Rosie and I scoured the shallower reefs, some shallow enough to walk upon if one trod carefully while Karackus and Daemar explored the deeper shoals and lagoons. Siomara was content to keep an eye on the ship and on all of us, to make sure none wandered too far and no greater threats emerged – a good thing too, as Rosie and I disturbed a reefclaw who was making its home in the caves beneath the reef.

I was snatched without warning and immediately drug below the water. One arm was pinned and already growing numb from the creatures venom before I even realized what was happening. Rosie cried out to the others and bravely dove after me, using her own hand axe to hack at the beast in a frantic effort to get me free. By the time the others reached me she had managed to hack off its claw and was dragging me to the surface. She and Siomara tended to me while Kurusk and Daemar fought off the creature who followed after us, clearly unwilling to lose such a tasty morsel as myself. The attack disturbed a second reefclaw who joined the fray. By the time it was all over I was too weak from the reefclaw venom to stand and Daemar had been horribly wounded by one of the creature’s death throes. Siomara healed him as best she could, well enough to make it back to the ship if just barely. Rosie had the sense to gather up the creature’s claws to fill the rest of our crab pots and we made our way slowly back to the ship. We required help to get back aboard, Daemar and myself having to be hoisted up on a line which drew the attention of many, including the captain himself. He expressed an absent concern until he heard the entire story and discovered that we had managed to bring back the claws of the beast, regarded by many as a delicacy.

I was given a shot of brandy from the galley stores to counter the effects of the poison and Sandara did her best to heal Daemar’s remaining wounds. Harrigan himself made a grand speech about how a sailor would risk life and limb to see that his captain ate well and how such devotion should be rewarded. He had Grok return all of the equipment that had been seized from him the day of his capture - there was no mention made of my own brush with death but in truth I was content for the brandy and the rest of the evening off to recuperate.

Day Twelve
We set sail once more shortly after our party returned from its crabbing expedition and the next day passed without incident. Well, more or less without incident – Scourge was clearly frustrated by the Captain’s favoring of Daemar and both he and Plugg have been watching him more closely since. Daemar has returned to the bilges and I suspect that they hope to make his favor short-lived by keeping him out of sight until something more permanent can be arranged.

Also, in gratitude for her saving my life, I was able to sneak off to the quartermaster’s store and barter Rosie’s fiddle back from Grok, using some of the coin I had found in the bilges. She was understated in her acceptance of the gift, but I could tell by the light in her eyes that I had cemented our friendship for good.

Siomara entertained the crew once again with her storytelling, this time with a series of rather bawdy tales concerning a local magistrate’s daughter, his wife and a very well-endowed pirate with a peg leg. The woman remains a jewel, seeming at times as if the filth of this ship does not touch her – I know that she has gotten on well with the Cook and the Quartermaster and even today went down to look in on Hartshorn, bringing some of the tiny crabs she had caught just for him on our little expedition. In truth, I begin to grow concerned for her because not all gazes cast in her direction are innocent in their admiration, but thus far she has managed even the crudest attentions of our shipmates deftly enough.

Day Fourteen
Today we had a break in our routine as the ship’s master gunner, Riaris Krine has been instructed to begin educating us on boarding techniques. All members of the crew are expected to fight when we overtake a vessel and as such we were taken out two at a time in the ship’s jolly boat just after dawn to practice throwing grapples, securely hooking the ship’s railing and then pulling ourselves up. To make it interesting, a few members of the crew were given license to try and knock us from our perch with rotten food and other refuse. Rosie and I were taken out first and while she did well, I failed miserably, getting knocked from the rope three separate times and earning myself more than a few painful rope bashes for my efforts. Sandara and Siomara went next – Siomara struggled as I had, but Sandara mastered the task as so often seems to be the case with anything remotely involving piracy. Kurusk and Daemar were last up and while the half-breed successfully navigated the climb aboard ship, his throwing one of the offending crewmembers overboard earned both a few lashes and a host of laughter from the sailors who had gathered to watch. Daemar on the other hand was exceptional, crossing the distance smoothly and easily, avoiding most of the detritus hurled at him and boarding the ship with ease. The captain even took note of his performance, as did Mister Plugg.

Day Fifteen
Last night after most had turned in, an incident took place. A couple of the more scurvy members of this crew – a mute orcish mongrel aptly named ‘Jaundiced Jape’ and a fat greasy fellow named Fipps Chumlett accosted Siomara when she was returning from a visit to Hartshorn. The details, as best as I’ve been able to put together involved the two cornering her near the aft deck after having lain in wait, and their intentions were as obvious as they were dishonorable. Siomara was about to use magic to stun them both and make good her escape, but Conchobhar interceded instead. The gnome had been keeping a watchful eye on Siomara for quite some time, having been smitten with her since our arrival onboard – he fancies himself some sort of dashing pirate rogue and has often been more of a caricature than not. At any rate, the little gnome used magic of his own to inspire an unnatural terror in Jape, causing him to flee overboard and threatened Fipps with the same if he did not ‘relent in his unwanted attentions’. Fipps did exactly that, but apparently as soon as he was below decks sought out Scourge to make a full report, minus the unsavory details of his own involvement and the two immediately brought the matter to Mr. Plugg.

Now, our first mate has ever had distaste for magic to begin with, and in this case a malevolent spell had cost him the life of one of his sailors - indeed one of his personal cronies if truth be told. The little gnome was seized immediately from his bunk and thrown in irons until the captain could render a decision. This evening we learned what that decision was to be – a keelhauling. I suspect that Mr. Plugg pushed hard for this in part as a means of retribution towards our little cadre within the crew, aware as he was that Siomara had a fondness for the little gnome. Siomara herself, along with Fipps were severely lashed as well for whatever involvement they may have had – Siomara in an effort to deter her from using her feminine wiles from inciting the crew and Fipps I suspect because Harrigan did not want the women aboard his ship to think that he turned a blind eye to rape amongst the crew.

At any rate, the little gnome cowered and pleaded for his life, his dashing demeanor finally escaping him but Plugg would hear none of it – our first mate seemed emboldened by the gnome’s weakness in fact and took a fiendish pleasure in carrying out the sentence. We stood by helplessly, forced to watch as he went over the side and the ropes were drug along the length of the ship. Needless to say, Conchobhar did not survive and Siomara, I fear, is inconsolable – Rosie and Sandara are with her offering what comfort women may, but the incident has clearly embittered her towards the entire ship, Plugg in particular. That’s two friends we’ve lost now since coming aboard, and the lesser members of the crew seems to be dividing between Plugg’s lackeys and our own little group. If not for the presence of Kurusk and Daemar I suspect that there would have been more incidents, more ‘accidents’, but since Siomara’s attack we have all resolved to go nowhere alone when it can be helped and to stay watchful for an opportunity to improve our situation.

Day Seventeen
I have had little time to write. Scourge has singled our little group out for the worst duties and has been quick with the lash even they are performed well. Exhaustion and resignation have begun to take over and tempers are getting frayed. Several fights have broken out though blessedly nothing that would inspire more than a lash or two in discipline. I suspect that Plugg is trying to break us, to get us to react in a way that he can finally be done with the lot of us once and for all.

Day Nineteen
The worst has happened.

Daemar has been assigned almost exclusively to the bilges since he arrived and has endured the stifling conditions and exhausting labors stoically, still managing to be noticed more than once by the captain for his performance elsewhere. Clearly Plugg despises him for that and Scourge is equally vindictive towards him over the interest of Sandara who apparently spurned his own advances not long before we came aboard. Well, today before he was sent down to the bilges he was searched to see if he was carrying anything he shouldn’t be – specifically weapons – on the pretense that he had been seen with one. They confiscated the dagger he was carrying, which was more than enough to get his guard up, and his suspicions were confirmed when he arrived in the bilges to discover that he had two additional crewmen assigned there as well. That had not been the case for the entire voyage apart from the days during and immediately after the storm, so clearly something was amiss.

Daemar kept his head about him, remembering the maces we had concealed in the bilges the day we had had to deal with the infestation of dire rats. When the two pirates – Fipps and another of Plugg’s lackeys named Maheem – began to accuse him of shirking as a pretense for conflict, he moved near the weapon’s hiding place and was able to react when they drew hidden daggers and pressed an attack. I don’t doubt that in those cramped confines the men had an advantage with the lighter weapons, not to mention that there were two of them, but Daemar has proven himself a capable and resourceful warrior. He took several minor injuries but succeeded in killing both of his assailants before they were able to do the same to him. Now, I have no idea what the pirate’s plans were – I assume they had intended to somehow stage Daemar’s death as an accident rather than risk being keelhauled themselves, but in truth I suspect that Plugg saw them as useful pawns, dupes he would have been perfectly content to sacrifice if it meant also doing away with someone he perceived as a rival. Regardless, when Daemar came on deck bleeding but victorious both Plugg and Scourge reacted with surprise and then rage, immediately seizing him and asking him what had happened. It took only a cursory glance into the bilges for them to declare him a murderer. Later it would be said that he had stolen the weapons and hidden them in the bilges with the intention of inciting a mutiny amongst the crew and that no doubt Fipps and Maheem had discovered his treachery and confronted him.

Captain Harrigan was enraged at this apparent betrayal though I don’t doubt that he suspected his first mate’s story to at least some degree… regardless, Daemar had been publically favored by him, had had the gift of his weapons and equipment restored to him and then had seemingly betrayed the captain aboard his own ship. Such a thing simply could not be allowed. Moreover, the loss of two valuable hands meant that the short-handed crew would be even further beleaguered by long hours and difficult duty. He has sentenced Daemar to keelhauling, marking the third such sentencing in as many weeks and our friend has been thrown into the sweatbox to await his punishment until tomorrow. Tonight those of us who are left – Siomara, Sandara, Rosie, Kurusk and myself - have begun discussing plans for a mutiny in truth, if only to free our companion and make good an escape. The thought is that a fire could be started and perhaps we could try and take the ship’s jolly but to have any chance of success we’d have to incapacitate the ship’s sorcerer - a woman named Peppery Longfarthing whom the captain seems to hold in high regard - and disable the sails or the rudder somehow. Of course provisions and water would need to be secured beforehand as well… it simply doesn’t seem like something we can pull off given our short supply and so little time.

[Story Archer]

Any and all comments or questions are enthusiastically encouraged.

The Journal of Augustus Finn

The Wormwood Mutiny, Part Two: The Man’s Promise

Spoiler:

Day Twenty
It seems the fates may have granted us a reprieve. Early this morning whilst we were still debating what to do, the lookout sighted sails on the horizon. By all appearances we have found our first victim on the Slithering Coast – she appears to be a merchant vessel and a fat one riding low with spoils at that. The captain has delayed Daemar’s sentence while we make chase and we have begun to wonder whether or not the chaos of battle might present us with a better opportunity to free ourselves from the yoke of Plugg’s enmity.

Late Entry - We’ve pursued the merchant vessel all throughout the day and as evening draw late, it appears as though we may yet overtake them well before they reach the safety of shore.

Day Twenty-One
Early entry - Despite the distractions and conflict aboard I find all are flush with the excitement of the chase and focused on our tasks at hand with renewed vigor. As the dawn sun broke we found ourselves less than half a mile out from our prey and closing. Preparations are being made all over the ship – the captain has even ordered that Daemar be released over Plugg’s explicit objections. I suspect that he has had time to consider the curious nature of the conflict that Daemar found himself in, but more importantly with the ship short-handed we shall need everyone in the fight and he has proven himself the most able of the ship’s newest recruits during training. He has not fully commuted our friend’s sentence but has intimated that if he performs well and proves himself, he may only earn a week in the sweatbox while the entire incident is investigated.

Late entry – Victorious! I shall recount the battle as best as I can remember, focusing of course on our role in it. As we began to close on the merchant vessel, we were outfitted with standard suits of leather armor and given weapons with which to fight. For Siomara and I that meant hand-axes and crossbows while Daemar and Kurusk were given boarding pikes and cutlasses. Our task was to grapple over to the sterncastle of the enemy ship, to secure the steerage and prevent the ship’s boats from being used by crew attempting to flee. Daemar requested and got Rosie and Sandara assigned to our force due to the perceived importance of our mission – a mission made both easier and more difficult by the heavy fog that closed in around us, summoned by the ship’s sorcerer. We kept to cover, avoiding the missiles fired in our direction when we drew near and as Daemar and Kurusk prepared to make their grapple throws, I began summoning sea shrikes – a half dozen of the marine raptors – to harry the sailors who defended the area where we meant to board. The gambit was successful – Siomara began a chant intended to focus our efforts and assisted the crossing by dazing our foes with words of magic as first Daemar and then Karackus successfully gained the merchant ship’s deck. Rosie and Sandara followed to help hold our position before Siomara and I did the same, admittedly with more difficulty. We were assisted aboard while the warriors first defended us and then began to systematically clear their area of the deck of merchant crew.

During the battle amid the swirling mists I witnessed Captain Harrigan fighting his way across the deck, menaced by another sailor creeping up behind him. I opened my mouth to shout a warning, but before I could Daemar hurled his pike and took the sailor in the belly. The captain turned just in time to catch sight of the threat as it was dealt with, and he exchanged a nod with the warrior. I suspect in that moment that our comrade saved not just Harrigan’s life, but his own as well.

Our strategy was simple – we split into three groups: Daemar and Sandara moved to deal with the sailors atop the sterncastle who were peppering us with crossbow bolts while Kurusk and Siomara secured one boat and Rosie and I secured the other. Daemar was a whirlwind with his boarding pike, dancing in and out of reach of his foes while Sandara backed him up with spells, blade and even a summoned creature of her own. Siomara used her magic to daze and stun foes that neared while Kurusk protected her with a savage brutality. Rosie did much the same for me, tumbling between her foes and taking advantage of the confusion caused by my shrikes biting, clawing and flapping in the merchant’s faces. Twice we had to defend the boats from being taken by fleeing sailors – the last time by several led by a capable ship’s officer – and each time we managed to repel them.

The battle as it took place around us was quite dramatic in the lulls where we were able to watch it unfold. Mists parted to reveal that sharks had been drawn by the fury of combat and blood of dying sailors, making the ocean as perilous as the decks above. At one point the entire ship rocked and shook with an explosion that I found out later was the detonation of alchemist’s fire below decks, and for a time the fire that raged was as much a foe to us all as anything else. I cannot be certain, but I believe that I even saw our enigmatic Captain Harrigan emerge from below carrying a bloody human heart in one hand. Who’s and to what purpose he had acquired it I may never know, but the image was chilling to behold and I doubt I shall ever forget it. Needless to say that by the time it all ended we were exhausted and sporting our share of injuries, but all still alive and exhilarated in our victory.

Captives were rounded up and paraded before the captain and his officers before being shackled and sent below decks until they could be sorted out as ransom, potential crew or shark bait. The celebration of our victory spilled over onto the Wormwood and continued amongst the crew all night and well into the following day.

Day Twenty-Two
The celebration continued on until mid-day when finally things began to settle down and the business of pirating was tended to. The captain and his officers divvyed up the spoils and I was pleasantly surprised with our share – it seems that Captain Harrigan was pleased with our performance and the planned keelhauling of Daemar forgotten. We each received about 350 in gold coin. Daemar and Kurusk both claimed chain shirts from the fallen Rahadoumi sailors and Kurusk claimed the ship’s officer’s pike as well which appears to have magical properties. We also received a share in the potions found aboard and for his assistance in the battle Captain Harrigan rewarded Daemar with a minor amulet he said would help protect him from harm and an exquisite shortsword that he had personally taken from the body of the ship’s mate. These last gifts were done off-handedly and away from the crew as there was no doubt that suspicion lingered with regards to Daemar’s alleged intentions of mutiny. It seemed that the warrior had succeeded in impressing the captain, but as more of the man’s despicable behavior was revealed, the less keen on doing so I suspect he became.

One such instance involved the crew of the Man’s Promise (that was the name of the ship we had captured) being offered the opportunity to swell the Wormwood’s ranks. Few took him up on his offer until he made clear their only other choice by tossing one of the female crew members overboard to where hungry sharks still circled. The line formed up right quickly after that, but the woman’s cries took a long time to stop echoing in my ears. More and more I found that the life of piracy appealed to me, the freedom and opportunity of it - but not the cruelty I had seen on display by this captain and his crew. A fine line it might seem to some perhaps, but one I felt it necessary to draw for myself and I suspect my comrades felt much the same.

Day Twenty-Three
Morning entry - Our celebration was short-lived. Early this morning we were mustered on deck with the rest of the crew, and were informed that we would be part of a skeleton crew intended to man the Man’s Promise on a voyage back to Port Peril. The ship’s captain would be Mister Plugg and his compliment would include his ‘pet’ Hartshorn, the boatswain Scourge, the cook Kroop – whom I suspect the captain was pleased to be rid of – as well as myself, Siomara, Kurusk, Falkirk, Sandara and Rosie. Plugg also hand-selected a number of crewmen we knew to be his lackeys and grabbed several of the merchant sailors to round us out. From the very start this boded ill as I believe Plugg wished to separate us, in particular Daemar, from his captain’s attention… once we get out of sight we would be on our own, at the mercies of both Plugg and Scourge and outnumbered aboard ship to boot.

Evening entry - Our concerns proved to be well-founded. Plugg has inflicted a much harsher discipline upon us than we had grown accustomed to on the Wormwood, if such can be believed. We have been assigned duties similar to what we had before, but always the worst of them and always under Scourge’s lash and the now-Captain Plugg’s sneer. Plugg has berthed Sandara and Rosie in the former officer’s quarters with his hand-picked men, presumably to keep us separated and an eye on them.

Day Twenty-Four
Something interesting has occurred. We have changed course though Plugg made no announcement of it, heading not north for Port Peril but rather east for elsewhere along the Slithering Coast. Kroop suspects that we may be making for a dry dock known as ‘Rickety Squibs’ where this fellow Rickety Hake alters captured ships for pirates so that they might sail unrecognized by their former captains or crew. It would seem that Plugg intends to take the Man’s Promise as his own, carving his own bit of infamy as pirate captain. If so, he is certain to deal with us sooner rather than later and we have resolved to not let him catch us unawares. In fact, plans for a mutiny against him have already been laid… now we simply need to share our plans with Rosie and Sandara.

Day Twenty-Five
We have informed Rosie and Sandara of our intentions and told them to make ready. Tonight we shall attempt to take the ship.

Day Twenty-Six
Morning entry – Success! The fact that I am alive to write this is a testament to our victory, though it was far from easy.

We armed and armored ourselves once we returned to our bunks for the night. Kroop agreed to join us in the mutiny though it’s clear he fears Harrigan’s eventual wrath for doing so – for the duration of the battle he was left below deck to keep an eye on the merchant crewmen whom had been lodged with us. They had agreed not to sound the alarm but could not be convinced to join us in our mutiny, preferring instead to sit this one out until a victor was decided and then cast their lot in with them. Out onto deck we crept where Aretta Bansion and a foul-tempered woman named Slippery Syl were on watch. We managed to daze them before they could raise the alarm, with Syl cut down by Daemar and Aretta thrown overboard by Kurusk. Spreading out across the deck, Siomara went to Hartshorn, whom had been chained to the mast and given orders to protect the door to the Captain’s quarters. She had won the poor creature’s loyalty long ago and while we could not free him from his chains without raising a ruckus, we knew we could count on him not to interfere.

Kurusk and I went to the officer’s quarters whereupon I summoned a half-score dire rats. He then threw open the doors so that the creatures could swarm in and attack the crew as they slept, sowing enough confusion for the alert Rosie and Sandara to make a dash for freedom. I magic’ed Rosie a set of mystic armor and gave her the shortsword Daemar had been gifted by Harrigan. From there the two held the doorway against the crew, killing them as they fought to escape the confusion. I stood behind them, dazing any who closed to melee. Scourge was the first to die, victim to Kurusk’s rage. Meanwhile, Sandara rushed to join Daemar who stood outside Plugg’s door calling for him to come out and face his fate. The sneering Plugg appeared finally, resplendent in his fine coat with pearl buttons, his cutlass in one hand and that damnable cat in the other. It took him only a moment to surmise what had taken place – he could hear the cries from his lackeys as they fought and died and you could see in his eyes that he determined not to be taken alive – not by such as us. Siomara began to verbally challenge Plugg for his villainy and cowardice, heartening us all, as Daemar and Sandara closed with the hated Plugg in a face-off that had seemed pre-destined since our first day aboard the Wormwood.

From what I could see of that fight it was a bloody affair with quarter neither being given nor asked. Plugg at one point gave Sandara a vicious wound that forced her to fall back. It was then that Hartshorn made his presence known, grappling the smaller man when he drew within reach. Plugg seemed genuinely shocked, either at the creature’s betrayal or that he had found the courage to act. In a rage he cut his pet down, but the interference allowed Daemar to press his advantage and he slew Plugg finally, there on the decks of the ship he had thought to claim for his own. It was only moments later that the last two of Plugg’s lackeys surrendered.

In the aftermath of the battle, everyone who remained was called up on deck so that we could take stock of the situation. We did not have enough crew remaining to adequately sail the ship, but we would not need to get far – we would make for the Slithering Coast much as Plugg had intended and seek out Rickety Squibs ourselves. Once there, anyone who wished to leave the ship would be allowed to do so, as would any who chose to remain. Those who went would be given what coin could be spared to see to themselves if they agreed to work faithfully day and night to see us safely to port. All agreed – including the remaining Wormwood sailors… we were not inclined to trust them, but they had been adequately cowed after the battle and in truth, I do not know if we’d be able to make the voyage without them, short-handed as we were. Even as I write this, we hear the ominous sounds of thunder off in the distance, and if a squall strikes us as we are, I am uncertain we will survive it.

Late entry - It would seem that despite Sandara’s assurances to the contrary, the pirate goddess Besmara is angry with us as our luck could not have turned more ill. The looming storm struck in the night and threatens to capsize the ship – we have already lost the mainsail and I fear the worst of it is yet to come.

[Story Archer]

Any and all comments or questions are enthusiastically encouraged.

The Journal of Augustus Finn

The Wormwood Mutiny, Part Three: Bonewrack Isle

Spoiler:

[GM’s note: All characters reached 3rd level after successfully taking the Man’s Promise and defeating Plugg.
Augustus is now a 3rd level Master Summoner. With insight from his eidolon, he is now beginning to summon the elementals he has sought, creatures of earth and fire, storm and sea.
Siomara is a 1st level Crossblooded Sorcerer (fey and infernal)/2nd level Bard (Lotus Geisha). She is emerging as the leader of the group, taking charge when planning, and using her abilities to support everyone both in and out of combat.
Kurusk is now a 2nd level Barbarian (Invulnerable Rager)/1st level Sorcerer. He has not yet cast any spells, but the first time he does it will be as if the magic of his bloodline is bursting free – the player hopes to pick a dramatic moment to surprise the rest of the party with it.
Daemar is a 2nd level Barbarian (Urban Barbarian)/1st level Lorewarden. At this time he plans on pursuing the Whirlwind Attack feat line, which he should have completely by 6th level.]

Day Twenty-Seven
We’ve survived the storm, but only barely. The winds were ferocious enough that we were blown well off course and in truth it was all we could manage not to lose the ship entirely. The sailors fought through it bravely – even those remnants of the Wormwood crew – and well they should as it was our lives we were fighting for. Even so, we’ve not come through it all whole.

The ship has run aground on a reef, thrust there by the stormy seas and we’re taking on water. It’s clear that while we are not in immediate danger the ship will eventually sink even were we to work the bilges non-stop. We’ve begun ripping up decking in an effort to make repairs as best we can, but that is not our only difficulty. The ship’s water barrel burst when we hit the reef and our water supply is down to next to nothing. Worse still, Sandara, who’s deity has granted her the ability to create fresh water and to purify sea water into something drinkable when needed, has disappeared. It seems that she was taken, along with one of the Wormwood sailors during the storm by some sort of diminutive sea creatures. Kurusk and I caught sight of them from the rigging and managed to chase them off, but in the confusion of the storm did not notice that we had lost crew members until the storm abated and we managed to take stock of things. A search of the ship revealed nothing other than Sandara’s holy symbol which she would never have willingly discarded.

So now we are faced with few choices. We are stranded here until repairs can be made and we have no supply of fresh water. The reef we ran aground on appears to be part of a small island that looms out of the sea not far away. Daemar, Kurusk, Siomara and I intend to go ashore in the ship’s gig, leaving Rosie and Kroop here to oversee repairs to the ship. Our primary goal is to replenish our water supply though Daemar seems to think we may find some trace of Sandara - it is a small hope and not one any of the rest of us share… the sea has clearly taken her. She was a valuable companion and well loved, and she shall be missed, but for now the demands of survival must preoccupy our thoughts and efforts.

Day Twenty-Seven – on the island
We took the ship’s jolly out to the island and brought with us the two Rahadoumi sailors to watch the boat while we explored. It was then that I finally chose to summon Llira, revealing her to the rest of my companions… at this point, every available hand was needed and her keen eyes and ability to move freely underwater could only be of aid.

There was a high point, an upthrust fist of rock at the near end which we believed would give us a good view of the rest of the island and didn’t seem overly difficult to climb, so that was where we put in first. Once we reached the top we were indeed afforded an excellent vantage – the island appeared uninhabited but that clearly had not always been the case. A beacon fire had been built upon the fist where we stood and from our position we could see in the distance both what looked like once-cultivated fields now overgrown, and on a distant ridge a small stockade of sorts. Around the point was a beach with a trail that led past both, so we decided to take the boat there next. Reason followed that if there was a shelter on the island, it would have been built near a source of fresh water. Rooting around the fist itself we uncovered a handful of torches and took two for the Rahadoumi, on the off-chance we had not finished our business come nightfall.

It turns out that I was wrong in supposing the island to be uninhabited - at least completely. Not long after putting in at the beach on the southeast shore we were attacked by a pair of giant crabs, palm crabs I think they were called and rightly so as they scuttled right down out of the trees to menace us. I summoned an earth elemental, pleased to have the rare chance to attempt it, and then another when the first was destroyed by one of the massive creatures. Kurusk kept the other at bay with his pike while Daemar took off its legs and then the second was destroyed in similar fashion, their bodies left for the sailors to dismember for ship provisions.

We ventured up the trail from the beach, first passing through the overgrown fields that someone had once gone to great difficulty to cultivate – shipwreck survivors no doubt, though it appeared as if someone – or something – had done for the them since. The field was decorated with odd fetishes, human heads on stakes set up like some sort of macabre scarecrows. They were buzzing with flies and disconcerting to behold, so we simply chose to let them be. I encouraged Llira to venture ahead and explore the fields on the off-chance there was anything to interest to be found off the beaten path. Deep in the brush she discovered a body, long dead, which we also investigated. Not much could be made of its remains, but after searching it we did discover a belt with gold buckle and a potion of indeterminate purpose. A quick spell revealed that it allowed one to breathe water making it a potentially valuable discovery.

It was while we were investigating the body that we were again accosted by one of the islands remaining inhabitants – the ground suddenly gave way beneath Siomara and a large pair of mandibles erupted from the earth, seizing her and attempting to drag her down. Kurusk grabbed her and Daemar began plunging his pike into the beast wherever its chitinous shell left it exposed while I summoned another earth elemental to engage it. In moments the battle was over as suddenly as it had begun, the creature releasing Siomara abruptly and disappearing back into its tunnels – I sent the elemental after it to ensure we didn’t suffer any more nasty surprises. As Siomara saw to her wounds Daemar identified the creature as an ankheg and speculated that the field could hide several more though how they came to the island was beyond him. We decided to press on towards the stockade rather than linger.

The climb was a steep but not an overly arduous one, and we reached the stockade by mid-afternoon. As it had appeared from afar, it seemed both deserted and in disrepair though we saw another of the fetish heads rotting on a stake outside and that if nothing else had us watchful for what might await us within. As we had hoped, we found a freshwater spring within its dilapidated walls with more than enough water to fill our barrels. We drank deeply and began to fill what we carried, intending to return to the boat for the rest of them when I got a nasty surprise – from amongst the branches of the tree above the spring, tendrils slipped down and caught me unawares, wrapping ‘round my neck and jerking me off my feet. I could barely get out a gurgle of warning, but it was enough to draw the others to my aid. The creature who attacked me seemed to blend perfectly into the foliage and moved nimbly through the branches despite the burden of my struggling body – indeed I do not think my friends would have gotten to me in time had Kurusk not been able to suddenly extend his pike with a mighty thrust, pinning the creature to the tree and killing it. Llira caught sight of another then, moving through the branches, positioning itself above Siomara – I was able to warn her in time and as the creature disappeared once more and I sent a handful of sea shrikes after it… the battle was joined, shaking the boughs of the tree until finally the thing, whatever it was, slid from the treetop and crashed to the ground at our feet. Llira was sent to climb through the tree’s branches to make certain no more surprises awaited us and while there did not appear to be any more of them, she did find what seemed to serve as the creatures’ lair. She returned with a silver hatpin and what appeared to be a golden wedding ring – finger still attached. She also recovered another of the water-breathing potions which I tucked away for safe-keeping.

It was in the ramshackle hut in the center of the stockade that the greatest horror actually awaited us. The stench spilling from it was nearly over-powering and we approached cautiously… I sent Llira in first to investigate and she reported back that the interior had fallen into disrepair but that it seemed the sole tenant had finally succumbed to the hardships of life marooned and hung himself. That certainly explained the efforts at cultivation and survival that we had witnessed around the island if not some of its odder aspects like the fetishes we had encountered. Those fetishes had us wondering if there was a greater threat on the island somewhere, a creature capable of being warded off in such fashion. We entered with cloths over our faces to help ward off the stench determined to search the place for anything of value – with all due respect to the dead, we were in sorry shape ourselves and it was clear the poor fellow had little use for his former belongings. The room was filled with swarming flies, drawn inevitably to the stench of death, and when we entered they attacked in full fury, enveloping Kurusk in an almost opaque cloud of swirling insects. He batted at them, accomplishing nothing, backing out of the cabin in an effort to get free. There was nothing any of us could think to do for him when suddenly he surprised us all by croaking out harsh words of an arcane language, and fire poured from his outspread hands, vaporizing half the swarm… and then again… and again, as he flailed about, crisping the maddened insects and actually setting fire to one corner of the hut’s exterior.

In shock, we gave him room until he regained his composure, the look on his face suggesting as much surprise as any of us. Siomara approached him, murmuring words of calm before seeing to his wounds – he was bleeding in too many places to count from the pinprick btes of hundreds of insects. She healed him up as best she could while the rest of us asked about his spontaneous spell-casting. He admitted to never having done it before, though he remembered rumors of his starting fires in his youth – the arcane words had simply come to him in a panic, blazing in his mind’s eye and begging for release. It was mysterious certainly but fortunate as well as those flies had threatened to eat him alive. Once he had assured us that he was okay – and more than once – we returned to the interior of the cabin. We spread out, investigating the chamber, avoiding the body but otherwise discovering a few items of interest… some finely tailored courtier’s outfits, one of which has a silver ring that radiated a faint aura of magic, a silver tankard perhaps worth a bit of coin, some sealed packets of paper that didn’t seem worth the trouble of carrying off and a little silver locket depicting a rather buxom lass. Finally, there was some discussion between us as to whether or not we should cut the body down and bury it – it was then that the ‘body’ decided it wasn’t quite ready to be buried just yet.

Daemar had approached it while we spoke, prodding it once with his pike before moving closer to investigate – and we all were shocked when it roared to life, dangling there as it was, its hands lashing out with rot-encrusted claws even as the stench in the room seemed to double in its potency. We all leapt back, gagging but for Kurusk who stood rooted at the spot. Some foul craft of the creature must have rendered him helpless because it clawed him again, using his bulk to lift itself from the perch where it dangled before casting a baleful glare at us and then sinking his teeth into our helpless companion. The shock of seeing it rip into him was enough to get us moving – Kurusk charged in to try and drive him back with his own pike, and I began hastily summoning earth elementals who burst up from the ground between the floorboards and attacked as well. The creature was quick, terrifyingly so, and strong as either of the warriors. Eventually Kurusk managed to pin it to the wall as the elementals began to beat it to a worthless pulp as Siomara and I drug Daemar’s body from the hut. He was grievously wounded and while Siomara did what she could for him but it wasn’t much more than to keep him alive.

After a brief discussion, we burned the remains of the creature’s body and then assembled a litter to carry Daemar back down the trail, Siomara and I at one end, Kurusk at the other while Llira scouted ahead. It was not as easy going down the slope as it had been ascending, and it was late afternoon by the time we reached the beach with him in tow. The sun was beginning to set and it was decided that we would remain on the seashore for the night. Come morning I, Kurusk and the two Rahadoumi would return to the stockade for our water barrels and to refill the additional containers we had brought with us while Siomara stayed with Daemar. That night we built a fire and ate what meager rations we had brought with us, setting a watch until dawn.

Day Twenty-Eight
Fortunately nothing molested us in the night and once the sun came up, Siomara was well-rested enough to be able to fully heal Daemar. The warrior had overcome whatever paralyzing effects he had been subjected to, but had in turn succumbed to fever and chills in the night and was still not well by the time we left for the stockade. Siomara remained to keep an eye on him and our boat, keeping watch – both on land and at sea – for any more of the giant crabs we had encountered the day before, or anything else that might pose a threat.

When we got there, I made a remarkable discovery. While the others were filling the water barrels, I came across a rather valuable spyglass that had been mounted and fixed looking out to sea – how we had missed it earlier I cannot imagine, but it appeared to be in fine working order. As I attempted to take it down to bring with us, I noticed that it had actually been fixed not on the horizon, but towards a specific stretch of beach. As I was gazing through it, movement caught my eye – a pair of the little sea devils who had come aboard our ship and taken Sandara, ‘grindylows’ Kroop had called them, were cavorting on the shore on the far side of the island… what’s more, one of them was wearing Sandara’s distinctive tricorne hat! I did not wish to raise Daemar’s hopes, but I could not let this discovery go unmentioned.

We made our way back to the beach and told the others of our discovery. Despite his weakened condition, Daemar was insistent that he join us for our return trip to fill the last of the water barrels to see for himself. I remained behind with Siomara to watch the boats, letting sending Llira along with them to let us know if they ran into trouble. Upon their return Daemar was beside himself, insisting despite his infirmity that we investigate the creatures we had seen and learn what could be known of Sandara’s fate. It was decided that we would return to the ship with the water we had gathered, check on repairs and then make final plans to return to the island, to see if we could find the lair of these creatures and any sign of Sandara. It was noon as we rounded the fist at the far easterly side of the island, and before long we were back aboard where our friends were relieved to see us returned safely. A midday meal was shared as we discussed the progress of our repairs, as well as our adventures upon the island and what we had discovered. As a group, we were dubious about Sandara’s fate but Daemar was adamant that we at least investigate, and it was decided that we owed her – and him – that much at least. It would be another day or so before repairs were completed anyway, and there was a sense that we wanted to avenge ourselves upon these creatures for their attack on our ship during the storm.

The discovery of a clue to Sandara’s fate appeared to have invigorated Daemar – he was still weak and feverish, but seemed to be getting better. It would be late afternoon by the time we reached the area we had seen the grindylows if we left immediately and we decided we did not wish to deal with the creatures at night, so plans were made to depart the ship once more at first light.

Day Twenty-Nine
Early Entry - It turns out that we had little choice about confronting them in the night as we were attacked not long after the moon set, just a few hours before dawn. It was fortunate that we had set three-man watch shifts and that I and Llira had been on when they attempted to creep aboard, stealthy creatures that they were. Llira’s eyes are better than any mortal’s, especially in the dark, and she alerted me so that I could raise the alarm. Perhaps twenty of the sea-devils attacked us, led by some greater creature, a matriarch of sorts that seemed a cross between whatever foulness they were, a shark and an octopus, and had potent magical abilities at her command.

One of the crewmen – the last of the original Wormwood crew – was swarmed over immediately, but the other sailor on watch was able to hear my alarm before suffering the same fate, retreating with sword drawn. I dismissed Llira and immediately roused the rest of the crew onto deck. Kurusk emerged first followed by the rest - even Daemar in his weakened state and Kroop wielding a cleaver from the galley. The little creatures moved to swarm Kurusk but they quickly learned the folly of that as fire erupted from his hands, engulfing several of them. Such unexpected fury scattered them before the little creatures regrouped to attack once more. The grindylow queen – if that’s what she was – attacked from the safety of the sea, piercing one crew member with a wickedly barbed harpoon and jerking him from our decks. She next cast spells upon Daemar and Kurusk both, freezing their weapons in their hand… Daemar was forced to drop his pike and draw his shortsword, while Kurusk instead grew wickedly inhuman claws, using them to tear at the little beasts who attacked us. Siomara had gathered a knot of sailors into a defensive stance, heartening them with her words and using magic to stun and blind the creatures when they gathered to press their attack. I summoned a water elemental to distract the queen in the water from using her magic, and then another in the hopes of driving her off. The tide of the battle turned and the gambit seemed to succeed, with our deck suddenly engulfed in an unnatural mist and the surviving creatures retreating back into the sea. Many were wounded and we had lost two more crewmen. Twisted and scorched little bodies littered the decks, but it was hardly a victory – the sea creatures were picking us apart, a few at a time.

Despite our not knowing neither their numbers nor truly where they laired, this attack only redoubled Daemar’s insistence that we find them in their home, discover what has happened to Sandara and destroy them once and for all. In truth we still had more than a day’s repairs to see to, and we would never finish them if we were forced to continue fighting off the threat the creatures posed, so the rest of us were forced to agree. Preparations were made as we took what rest we could, and at first light we put to sea, bringing with us again the two Rahadoumi crewmen to watch the boat.

Late Entry – we eventually did find their lair and were in turn lured into what became a submerged hell more nightmare than reality. So long as I live, I vow to never again venture into underwater caves, nor pursue a wounded enemy into its den.

We found the beach easily enough though putting in on the rocky scrag was difficult. Once we did so we searched the area but were unable to find anything resembling an entrance to their lair apart from a sinkhole that dropped some forty feet into the churning waters below, apparently fed by an undersea cave. The walls of the sinkhole weren’t especially difficult to climb, but I accidently disturbed a nest of stirges on the way down, and foul little creatures that they were, they swarmed over me. Fending off their attacks, I lost my grip on the cliffside and fell into the water below, mercifully gaining only a couple of bumps and bruises along the way. The others were able to drive the creatures away and descend in relative safety. Fortunately for me, there was nothing waiting in the bottom of the sinkhole for me, but rather than take chances, I summoned a water elemental for my defense, and directed him into the caves ahead of us as we proceeded.

A note on the sea caves – they were only partially submerged, deep enough that we had to swim as often as walk, with many of the chambers far deeper. We guessed that they would only remain so for as long as we were at low tide, and that when the tide indeed came in all of these caverns would be submerged. That left us perhaps six hours to complete our explorations - more than enough time we hoped. Footing was slippery due to the seaweed growing along the sides and floor and aggravated by entangling masses of hooks and sinew no doubt left by the grindylows to make it more difficult on invaders. The caves were dark though two of us – Siomara and myself – bore unlit torches with illumination spells cast upon them. They wound through the island’s interior in maze-like fashion, requiring us to diligently take note of how we came lest we be turned around completely and lost. Poor lighting, slippery footing, chilled waters and snares tugging at you seemingly with every step – it was a most difficult environment, and we had not yet faced our quarry.

But face our quarry we did – for the first time in one of the larger interior caves, ambushed by the creatures in their own environment. The battle was sudden and furious, the little beasts swarming to attack, withdrawing with amazing alacrity, swarming and pressing their attack once more. We slashed and cut at them, never knowing for sure which of our blows landed until finally a couple more summoned water elementals scattered them and chased them away. We proceeded with caution, coming upon a pair of creatures similar to the one we had found hanged, trapped in cages under the water, savagely lashing out at any who drew near. Fearing that they might block our retreat if not dealt with, Kurusk and Daemar used their pikes to eviscerate them from a distance as we watched the caverns for signs of the grindylows returning.

The next cavern held a new horror, a massive devilfish whom attacked us from its shadowy depths, belching forth a torrent of noxious blood that pooled atop the water, concealing it from sight and incapacitating Siomara and I both with waves of horrid nausea. It seized Kurusk with its tentacles, and sank its teeth into him, injecting its venom and attempted to drag him down into the murk with it. Daemar leapt after them both, plunging his pike into the monster again and again until it released our comrade and disappeared, fleeing down the passage that still lay before us. As Siomara and I recovered, Daemar drug Kurusk back into shallower water. He was grievously injured and Siomara used her magic to restore him as best she could. Mercifully the poison did not seem to have affected him overmuch, and after a few minutes of watchful rest, we pressed on.

The chamber awaiting us seemed to be the grandest – and by ‘grandest’ I mean the largest and most horrid – of all we had encountered up to this point. Visibility in the water was almost non-existent due to the filth swirling within, and we could see the grindylow queen laying coiled in wait for us at the far end of the cavern. All of this was noticed in the moments we entered and little else, for dangling from the ceiling were both Sandara and our other shipmate, gagged and bound with heavy ingots. The moment we entered, the Matriarch responded by cutting the rope suspending them, and they plunged beneath the water’s dark surface. Kurusk and Falkirk both immediately drank the potions of water-breathing that I had given them for just such a moment of need and dove in after them, weapons in hand. I meanwhile began summoning all I had left – water elementals, sent to attack the queen – while Siomara began a chant to aid us in battle. She and I each carried hand axes, though to what effect they could be employed we were doubtful, but we were determined to hold the cavern’s entrance in order to make good our eventual escape…

…that is until the behemoth attacked from below. A bloated creature with a distended maw came erupting from the water, literally attempting to swallow me whole just as I finished my second summoning. As I was suddenly engulfed in that horrible cold, slimy darkness, a rotten stench filling lungs that couldn’t breathe, I panicked, lashing out with my axe in whatever way I could manage. That moment of hysteria may well have saved my life as my axe must have scored well enough that the great creature was forced to vomit me out once more, depositing Me into the shallower water along with whatever other stinking refuse was left in its gullet. I spent a minute or so, though it seemed far longer, dragging myself free, gasping for air as my companions and summoned creatures closed in on the monster. Dimly I could hear the queen – its mother perhaps? – shrieking in an inhuman and alien language as it fought them all. Once I managed the lip of the cavern, I saw Sandara similarly struggling and reached out to help her to relative safety. She was injured, covered with small bites where the foul little creatures had bitten into her, and she looked exhausted beyond reason, but was still very much alive. The carcass of the devil fish floated nearby, apparently slain in Sandara’s rescue but of our remaining crew member there was no trace. Siomara was hacking with her axe at an octopus that had tangled itself about her leg and was unsuccessfully attempting to drag her into the waters of the cavern, but still she continued her oration, spurring us to fight on through our exhaustion.

I began to summon what little more I could manage, adding two more water elementals to the fray – two now flanking the queen, the other two swarming the behemoth who had swallowed me. Caught up in the maddening thrash of water as my elementals surrounded it, pierced time and again by Daemar’s’s pike and Kurusk now tearing at it with inhuman claws, the bloated creature was eventually slain, its blood clouding the already brackish waters. The grindylow queen, whom had been darting about adding her own attacks with her wickedly barbed harpoon suddenly let out a keening whine that was terrible to hear, and fled the chamber with my two remaining elementals in pursuit. It would seem the day was ours, though injured and half-drowned as we were, none felt like celebrating.

As eager as we were to escape the cave, we took time to search the chambers we had passed through as best we could. I barely had the strength to summon Llira, but with her ability to breathe underwater and to see in even total darkness, we were able to make sure nothing else lurked in the caves to threaten us – it seemed whatever grindylows remained had fled with their keening mother. With her help we also discovered a fair bit of assorted treasure that had been collected by the wicked little sea devils. Chief among what we discovered was a whale skull that had been scrimshawed all over with magical writing – Siomara indicated that they were magic spells – and a pair of magical bracers that would have to wait until later to be fully investigated. We gathered what loot we could and drug ourselves through the now deserted chambers back towards the entrance of the caves. Daemar and Kurusk climbed back up the cliff face and summoned the sailors we had left with the boat. Using some stout rope they had brought along, we managed to get everyone and our assorted loot up to the surface once more.

Against all odds we had recovered our friend and defeated the evil that plagued this island. Hopefully the treasure we found in the sea caves and that which we took from Plugg’s plunder stash will be enough to properly repair, squib and outfit the ship… but first we needed to get the ‘Promise off the rocks and then cross the open ocean with a barely patched ship and half the crew needed to pilot her. Besmara help us if we draw the notice of pirates or foul weather before we reach safe harbor.

[Story Archer]

I've enjoyed the writing, the little details and then charting of the group's evolution and the story's development... we just finished Island of Empty Eyes and I was going to continue posting entries from the journal, but with no responses I'm not sure there's enough interest...

Continue or no?

[Andrea1]

Please do. I love Let's Plays

[Story Archer]

Andrea1 wrote:

Please do. I love Let's Plays

So someone IS reading it... thank goodness.

'Let's Plays'?

[Andrea1]

Let's Play is a way of saying 'Watch me play this video game' Somethign Awful has a HUGE website set up about it.

[Sober Caydenite]

Story Archer wrote:

Andrea1 wrote:

Please do. I love Let's Plays

So someone IS reading it... thank goodness.

'Let's Plays'?

Good stuff!

[Haldrick]

I realise it is a lot of tome and effort but please continue. It is a great read. Unfortunately the silent majority of readers are jsut that silent.

[Cameronvk]

A very interesting read, and very well done as well.

[Story Archer]

I want to offer a sincere thank-you to those of you whom have read these posts and expressed continued interest... the campaign was forced to halt not long after my last entry and then restarted once more from the beginning with two of the original group's players and two new ones. It has since gone on to become the very best AP and the best campaign any of us have ever played in - it was so good with so many great moments that I'm seriously considering doing some sort of novelization of it, just to share some of the dramatic moments that took place.

The problem therein lies with the fact that we've just finished up, and I've been running a Second Darkness campaign on the side... and now the group looks like they want to tackle Rise of the Runelords next. I've gamed long enough and lived through enough droughts of play not to want to enjoy this period of plenty to its fullest, but that leaves prescious little time for the amount of work necessary to write something worth reading. I have all my notes though and the campaign remains quite vivid in my memory and that of other players - I fully intend to return to this project and, once rebooted, see it through to the end.

It really was a magnificent AP.

[Fitzwalrus]

Please do continue Augustus's journal when you can - I have greatly enjoyed reading it, and think it is one of the best campaign accounts I have seen. I tend to become the "note taker PC" in most of the campaigns our group runs and started a similar project a few years ago, the journal of my wizard in a particularly memorable campaign. As you say, the amount of work involved is considerable and details fade with time (which alas is why my project ultimately fell by the wayside) but I sincerely hope you can finish yours.

In the meantime, very well done indeed!