| drsparnum |
I am gearing up to run Skulls and Shackles starting mid-November for a crew of 7 PCs.
My ambitious plan is to allow some sandbox elements by bringing in other adventures and letting the PCs have some control over their destiny and choose which challenges to tackle, because I think that is the way to capture the freedom of a sailboat in game terms. Consequently, there might be spoilers for other adventures along the way in this log, and I'll try to flag those in advance. I'm also currently super-ambitiously planning to roll from the end of Skulls and Shackles into the middle of Savage Tide and take Savage Tide to the end. Savage Tide is an adventure I always wanted to run but haven't done it, and it looks like a good thematic fit with Shackles, and a good excuse to get my old Dungeon magazines out of the basement.
As a group, we've playing together for a long time with people coming and going and coming again. I've been playing D&D since the mid/late 80s, and I've been playing with one of the players in this game since the early 90s. When Adventure Paths became a thing we embraced them, and together, with rotating DMs, we've done 1) Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil, 2) Age of Worms, 3) Shackled City, 4) Red Hand of Doom, 5) Mummy's Mask, 6) Kingmaker, and 7) Hell's Rebels. The only one we started and didn't finish was Shattered Star, and that is because we started as an online game and when the pandemic ended resumed our usual monthly in-person game. We're currently playing Wrath of the Righteous (where I'm a player), but this month should be the last session which is why I'll take over soon and I picked Skulls and Shackles. It should be a real change of pace from Wrath of the Righteous, which I think is a good thing.
| drsparnum |
We started last weekend. Here is the party:
Sushi: L1 Tengu druid (shark-shaman) of Hei Feng
Batrachus: L1 Boggard brawler (wild child)
Elara Variel: L1 Human witch (fey-touched hexer)
Taur'Thalian Sigtrygrrson: L1 Half-elf Skald (Dragon skald)
The Great Adolfo: L1 Human swashbuckler (Inspired blade)
Lawrence "Hard" Knox: L1 Half-orc ranger (Divine tracker)
Phoebe Flynn: L1 Human cleric (Undead lord)
Some of the player's sent me some written background info so let me get to sharing that...
| drsparnum |
Sushi's player's written background:
Background:Sushiro Kezuka was born in Minkai, in the city of Hiyosai, the only surviving member of an abandoned eggclutch in an alleyway near the local Temple of Hei-Feng. Discovered and raised by a Tien priest named SushiroUseme, who taught young Kezuka in the ways of the priesthood. He gifted Kezuka his surname, but alsotaught him as much as he could of Tengu culture, including the story of Kwanlai and the SunderstormCovenant - Tengu worshipers of Hei-Feng who fought for their freedom from the Lung Wa Empire and wereprone to violent reprisals. They believed in the purifying power of lightning brought forth by the Duke ofThunder. The freedom of the Tengu in Kwanlai interested Kezuka, although the violence of his forebearsseemed short-sighted to him as a young chick.Kezuka was fond of the poetry written by and about Lady Jingxi, the wife of Hei-Feng, who to him embodiedthe gentler spirit of a natural order between good fortune and ill. Useme allowed this, as he saw it as a blessingthat a follower of Hei-Feng might also rectify the boisterous and tempestuous spirit of their god through thegentleness of the Lady of Lightning. In addition to learning more of Lady Jingxi, Kezuka grew into his Tenguheritage, and he began to find ways to express his freedom. Occasionally, he would carve crude bas-relief inwood, telling the story of a thieving Tengu priest, who gave back what he stole, allowing the winds of life to takehim on adventures. He also started growing plum trees in any container he could find, throwing the seedsaround the temple grounds. He would always laugh when the gardeners would find his saplings growing up inthe oddest places, knowing that they could not remove the blessed trees of Hei-Feng’s former love.As a growing chick, he would head to the harbor and admire the junks, with their square sails and seeminglyhappy sailors and stevedores. He would feel the wind at his back, and dream of being on the sea. He began topractice swimming, at first on the temple grounds, and then eventually the rivers and the harbor itself. Hewould test how far out he could swim, even though the samurai guard would warn him of the dangers in thedeeps. One day, with dark clouds overhead, he went for a swim in the harbor, planning to head out further intothe bay to see if he could reach the edge of the sea. While treading water and practicing holding his breath, afin appeared above the spray. It moved fast. Faster than anything he had ever seen. In an instant he feltadrenaline pumping through his body. The skies darkened further, and a lightning bolt pierced the skies veryclose to Kezuka and the shark. The shark swam off rapidly, and Kezuka passed out, carried back to shore bythe choppy surf.When Useme learned of Kezuka’s fate, he was distraught and did not know what to do for his young charge,whose leg had been bitten off below the ankle. He knew of a nearby, elderly, samurai craftsman who dabbledin prosthesis for some of the warriors’ casualties. He bandaged Kezuka, said a prayer to stabilize him, andquickly brought the young Tengu to this samurai. When he arrived, he found out that the samurai was leavingfor the Shackles to a post in the Ushinawa Isles shogunate that afternoon. Unable to pay the samurai, thesamurai offered to take Kezuka with him, as the young Tengu would surely offer his ship good luck. Usemesaid goodbye to the young Kezuka, who smiled weakly and reassured Useme that not only was this turn ofevents fate, but that this would be an adventure like Kezuka always wanted.Nakano Takeko was unlike any samurai Kezuka had met down by the harbor. She was kind, patient, andhandy. She also suffered from terrible nightmares. She tended to Kezuka and built him a wooden leg, and inexchange Kezuka helped her with shipwright duties, and performed prayers and “good luck” rituals at theinsistence of the other sailors. The sailors took to calling Sushiro Kezuka, “Sushi,” in honor of his missing limb,and he found the nickname suitable. Most of the time, Takeko was light-hearted and together the Tengu andTien samurai worked together repairing the ship. Kezuka’s prayers became ritual and eventually he took tolearning druidic arts, boosted by his love of Hei-Feng and Lady Jingxi, symbols of balance and opposingideals. Occasionally, during the worst storms at sea, Takeko would speak of terrifying things she had seen, and
of places beyond Golarion itself, which excited and terrified the young Kezuka, and the other sailors equally. Inthese fugue states, it seemed almost as if she was possessed. Very often Kezuka and the sailors would calmtheir spirits through spirits, always with the blessing of Hei-Feng. It was during these boisterous times thatKezuka felt closest to his Tengu ancestors, which channeled in him powerful divine magics that seeminglycalmed the sea and skies themselves..After arriving in the Ushiniwa Isles, Takeko was tasked with taking out remaining threats around the isles,traveling by ship and bringing Kezuka along, although he always had to stay behind during her adventures.When they were on land, she fostered his creativity and skill with woodworking and carpentry, and asked himto make a beautiful bas-relief of a plum tree being split by a thunderbolt, crafted from a beautiful piece ofdriftwood that she had found on the beach. Over the next two years, he worked on his craft and ritual night andday, especially when he would have to wait for Takeko to return from the samurai raids against the variousthreats of the Shackles. It was during one of these raids that Takeko fell in battle to violent kuru, and her bodywas partially recovered by her shipmates. When Kezuka saw her body, he wept and said prayers, and wishedgood fortune to his shipmates, and he prepared to depart penniless for the slums of Ushiniwa. As he clearedhis bunk and Takeko’s, he found a note that she had left behind. “The plum tree ripens best when given hardknocks.” He pulled out the gorgeous bas-relief he had worked on over the years, and pawed it with his talons.He rapped at the side of it, and where the thunderbolt pierced the plum tree, a small hidden door opened.Takeko’s secret addition held within it a note, “I will miss you Kezuka. I was an old woman, who had seen toomuch of this and other worlds. Let me go. Let the storm now carry you. Go to the Formidably Maid in Port Peril.Take this map.” Behind the note, Kezuka pulled out a strange and mysterious map…Goals::To live a more reckless life like the Tengu followers of Hei-FengTo accept when things breakTo find ways to fix broken things that can be fixed or want to be fixedTo use violence only as a means to make great change to a system (like the Sunderstorm Covenant)To help and mentor others like Useme and Takeko did for himViews on murder:Part of life, a change agentViews on rape:Against it but also views it as part of life. Hei-Feng’s betrayal of Lady Jingxi is a major religious tenet in his lifeand could be viewed as thievery of agency.Views on slavery:Against it more now having been exposed to the shogunate where it’s outlawed, open to committing violence toend slavery but is not an abolitionist.Views on raising dead:Only those whose journey might need to go on
| drsparnum |
Batrachus's player's written background:
Batrachus was born in the small boggard village of Tkysz’drakol (The Chateaus at Swampglen in boggard). He was selected at a young age to train for the priesthood. Once devoted to Gogunta, the village abandoned the demon lord for worship of Rovagug upon the formation of the Eye of Abednego. But his grandmother secretly kept to the old ways, and instructed Batrachus on the sly. Destruction for its own sake is pointless. Better the accumulation of power, the assertion of dominance, the celebration of the pungent, sticky beauty of the swamp, and of course the glory of Gogunta, to ensure a respectable position in the afterlife.
One night, a Hezrou appeared to Batrachus in a dream. It identified itself as Trathrog, an emissary of Gogunta. Batrachus had kept the old faith, and had been chosen by Gogunta to restore her worship to glory in the Sodden Lands and beyond. Trathrog told Batrachus that there was a map to a hidden and powerful treasure in the possession of the Boggard chieftain. Batrachus was to steal the map and meet the hezrou at a swampy grove sacred to Gogunta about a day’s march from his village.
Batrachus waited for his moment. In two weeks time (early Gozran) the tribe planned to celebrate This Rovagugan ceremony was usually marked by violent conflict against neighboring tribes, the capture and ritual sacrifice and consumption of prisoners, and general bloody debauchery.
The night of the Waking, when the bloodlust of his people was sated, and people were sleeping off their heavy meals and various wounds, Batrachus stole into the chieftain’s tent. He murdered the chieftain in his sleep, and consumed his brain for his wisdom and knowledge. He ransacked the chieftain’s things, and stole several items of value, including the map.
In order to ensure he was not followed, he then quietly made his way through the village, hut by hut, and killed every single boggard in the tribe. His grandmother he killed last, and ate her heart to consume her faith and piety. Then he made his way to the rendezvous with Trathrog.
Trathrog was impressed with Batrachus, and commended his comprehensive zeal, though he also taught him that while murder and carnage is always fun, and almost always justified, it is occasionally useful to exercise some discretion as his journey would take him to more civilized lands. If people could be useful to him, and their cause, best to treat with them as allies until the point they are no longer of use.
Trathrog then commanded Batrachus to make his way across the Sodden Lands, and into The Shackles, where he was to secure allies, find this treasure, and amas power and wealth capable of restoring Gogunta to the regional prominence she once possessed and definitely deserves. To help him in his quest, Trathrog promised to send to him a great and powerful servant, and that Batrachus would know him when he appeared.
With that parting, and armed with the certainty of righteous purpose, Batrachus began his journey to The Shackles. While he was forced to sell most of the treasure he stole from the village along his journey, he eventually made it to Port Peril, on the lookout for allies, and his great and powerful servant.
| drsparnum |
Backstory of Lawrence Knox...
Laurence "Hard" Knox (usually called "Knox") is the bastard byblow of the pirate captain Houkna Brewel and a young priestess of Calystria. While mostly human in coloring and appearance, it is obvious at a second glance that he carries orcish blood. Laurence was raised in Quent, by a bitter and manipulative mother, with one purpose - to find and punish his father. According to her, his father kidnapped and raped his mother and promptly forgot about her existence. She found her way to the temple of Calystria on Quent and dedicated her life to the art of vengeance. Knox's mother pushed him to exceed his peers in every way, and Knox learned to use his physical presence and sheer strength to compel others to do his will. In youth, he was called a bully. In his late-20s he is now a respected (feared) ship's bosun or first-mate with a small but growing reputation. He is a skilled sailor and navigator, and respects proficiency above all else. He runs ships' crews with a brutal efficiency - dealing out martial punishments fairly and without cruelty, but always personally (Lawful Evil). His ambition is to captain a ship someday soon, build and consolidate his power, continue to investigate who his father is, and eventually destroy him - first, reputationally, then financially, and finally physically. He has lived his entire life to serve this end and has no ambition beyond it (room for growth). During a recent shore visit after his last successful voyage as bosun, he stepped out for a drink at the 'Maid.
| drsparnum |
Background of Phoebe Flynn...
Phoebe grew up in Port Peril, the daughter of merchants, and when not being forced to pay attention to her tutors, she enjoyed exploring the town. During her teenage years, Phoebe acquired a more gothic persona, which her parents attributed to juvenile deliquency, and figured she would grow out of it. She was sent to intern aboard a merchant vessel captained by friends of the family. For several years she traveled aboard this ship, given menial tasks to complete, some basic shipboard training, and was otherwise generally ignored. One night during a storm, and after a few too many drinks, Phoebe was convinced her time to ascend into undeath had arrived. She jumped overboard, called out to the sea, but found it to be a much harsher master than the annoying merchant captain she was working for. As she floated into and out of consciousness, clinging to a random piece of driftwood, a strange rat spoke to her of the glories of worshipping Hanspur. She went all in, and now, rescued and recently returned to Port Peril, her fascination with undeath has grown to become an obsession, and she revels in the powers granted to her by her god. Though with age comes great wisdom, and so she now knows to tone it down a bit when around her family and friends.
Phoebe dreams of one day becoming a powerful lich who will live forever. One night while perusing the local graveyard, in search of cool undead stuff she could try and command, she broke into a mausoleum and poked around in a tomb of a wealthy pirate. She found two things: a dead parrot, which she promptly raised and named Kiwi, and a treasure map, which she believes will lead her on the path to greatness. And, of course, undeath.
| drsparnum |
Here is the write up from session 1 by Knox's player...
The Tale of the Wyrmwood’s New Blood
Rova 9, 4716
The seas are wide and the stars are vast, and few know the secrets they hold better than a ship’s deck. Today, that deck bore witness to the first steps of a group of new swabs who’ve set their boots aboard the Wyrmwood. A rough beginning, aye, but what great tales ever started smooth?
Let me spin you the yarn of that first day—when the fates tossed a band of misfits into the teeth of a pirate’s life, and they bit back.
The Waking and the Whip
The hold of the Wyrmwood is no place for soft dreams. It’s dark, damp, and stinking of salt, bilgewater, and fear. That’s where the new swabs woke, heads pounding from whatever brew knocked them out at the Formidably Maid. No familiar land, no comforting bed—just the groaning of the ship’s timbers and the sneering face of Master Scourge to welcome them to their new lives.
Scourge, true to his nature, wasted no time. His whip cracked the air like thunder, and his words were no kinder. “Yer all mine now!” he barked, his voice dripping with cruelty. “Step outta line, and ye’ll wish you were never born!”
Most of the new blood stayed silent, eyes low, sizing up the situation. Knox stood still as stone, his jaw tight, clearly unimpressed by Scourge’s bluster. Taur’Thalian, though quiet, carried himself with a defiant air, as if a song of rebellion was already forming in his mind. Adolfo wore a grin that made it hard to tell if he was amused or plotting.
But Flynn—oh, Flynn—she was the one who caught the crew’s attention. Where others ducked or kept their silence, she stood tall, her gaze fixed on Scourge like she didn’t give a damn about his whip or his threats. She didn’t say much, but her stance alone spoke volumes: You don’t scare me.
It was a moment that set the tone, one that said this group wouldn’t break easily, no matter how hard Scourge tried. The lash might bite, and the threats might echo, but the fire in these swabs? That’s not something you can whip out of a soul.
The Rigging Race
Every ship has its hierarchy, and on the Wyrmwood, the climb—literal or otherwise—starts with the rigging. It was a test of speed, strength, and cunning, a race to see who could reach the top and earn the coveted roles of rigger. And oh, what a spectacle it was.
Taur’Thalian and Knox were off like cannonballs, each driven by their own fire. Taur’Thalian moved with the grace of a practiced climber, his half-elven heritage giving him an edge as he scaled the ropes with practiced ease. Knox, the hulking half-orc, wasn’t far behind, his sheer strength making up for any lack of finesse. The two surged upward, neck and neck, each determined to claim their place.
But it was Batrachus who gave the crew something to talk about. With a powerful standing leap that seemed to defy the laws of nature—and perhaps the deck’s patience—he launched himself into an early lead. For a moment, it looked as if the boggard might claim the rigging as his own. But alas, strength and leaps don’t teach a man to tie knots, and Batrachus’s lack of sailing experience soon left him floundering on the ropes while Suchi steadly and deliberatly passed him by, with Adolfo - proclaming his excellence as a climber - spent a bit too much time talking and not enough time climbing.
Meanwhile, Flynn and Elara struggled on the deck, caught in the chaos of the moment. Whether it was inexperience, hesitation, or sheer bad luck, neither could find their footing—or their grip—before the race was decided.
By the time the ropes stopped swaying, it was Taur’Thalian and Knox who stood victorious, their efforts earning them the roles of riggers. The Wyrmwood has gained two hands skilled enough to weather any storm, though what storms they’ll bring to the ship themselves remains to be seen.
For now, Batrachus, Flynn, and Elara remain on the deck, along iwth Adolfo, swabs in name but with plenty of time to prove their worth. After all, the sea is nothing if not full of second chances—at least for those willing to fight for them.
Sushi and the Galley’s Chaos
Down in the galley, where the air’s thick with salt and smoke, Sushi has made his mark as cook’s mate. While the Wyrmwood’s “chef” stumbles about in a drunken haze, more likely to burn the biscuits than bake them, Sushi steps in with quiet determination. He’s no mere swab in the kitchen—he’s an artist, turning whatever scraps he’s handed into meals that keep the crew upright and grumbling a little less. He works with a steady hand and a patience born of purpose, even as he humors the inept cook’s slurred jokes and clumsy antics. The galley may be chaos, but with Sushi at the hearth, there’s at least one thing the crew can count on: good grub and a steady presence amidst the storm.
The Fight with Fipps
Every tale needs a good brawl to start it off, and Fipps Chumlett—big, brutish, and twice as dim—was all too happy to oblige. With his lackeys at his back, he cornered the new swabs, thinking to cow them into submission. But oh, how wrong he was.
Knox took the brunt of the assault, three on one, and still managed to smash Fipps with two resounding blows. Taur’Thalian, the skald with songs that stir the soul, lent his voice to the fray, a melody of rage and defiance that lifted the swabs above the fray. Adolfo danced through the chaos, his fists and elbows flashing, his grin a challenge to fate itself.
Then there was Batrachus, the boggard hunter, who struck with lethal intent, his blade cutting through Fipps’ bravado like a dagger through butter. And after the fight, it was Sushi, the druid, who stepped forward with quiet determination, healing his companions without hesitation, proving his heart was as steady as the sea itself.
As for Fipps? He was left pantsless and penniless, stripped of more than just his pride. He’d learn soon enough that underestimating this lot was a mistake.
The Bilge Test
The bilge—a dank, stinking pit of despair. It was here the swabs were sent next, tasked with clearing out the dire rats that had made it their home. Armed with gear from the quartermaster (thanks to Taur’Thalian and Knox’s efforts with the quartermaster), they descended into the darkness.
The fight was swift and decisive. Elara Variel, the feytouched witch, cast her hexes with a grace that belied the chaos around her. Batrachus fought with the determination of a man who respects his work, while Knox stood firm, his blows landing like cannon fire. Adolphus, rapier in-hand, expertly deflected teeth and spitted hearts. Even Taur’Thalian, struggling with his grog, managed to keep pace.
And when it was over, they didn’t just clean the bilge—they scoured it, finding a trove of loot that would see them reclaim their stolen gear. It was a victory, small but sweet, and one that hinted at the strength of this unlikely crew.
The Lashings of the Wyrmwood
The Wyrmwood’s lash is a cruel thing, biting deeper than the sharpest blade, and it sings across the deck every Bloody Hour. The crew has come to dread its whistle, but it’s not just the sting—it’s the humiliation, the breaking of spirit. Yet some souls refuse to break, no matter how deep the lash bites.
Take Flynn, for instance. Stubborn as a barnacle on a hull, she took her punishment with gritted teeth and a fire in her eyes that the lash couldn’t extinguish. Seven times the lash struck her back, and though she crumpled after the seventh, the crew could see the defiance burning in her. “She’s not done yet,” someone muttered, and they were right—Flynn owes two more lashes come tomorrow, and you can bet she’ll take them the same way: not with grace, but with grit.
Sushi, the druid, has lashes of his own waiting - with the cat o'nine, but his resolve seems quieter, like a storm brewing on the horizon. And then there’s Breaker Bones, the whipping boy of the Wyrmwood, who takes his daily punishment with a silence that’s almost eerie. He’s been beaten so often, it’s as if he’s learned to endure it, but you’d be a fool to think he’s forgotten. Vengeance simmers in that one.
Ah, the keelhauling—every pirate’s nightmare. Poor Japes Magpie learned the hard way what happens when you cross the wrong folk aboard the Wyrmwood. They dragged him under, the barnacle-crusted hull tearing at his flesh, and when they pulled him back up, there wasn’t enough of him left to stitch together. A cruel punishment, aye, but that’s the Wyrmwood for you: a ship that demands blood when the lash ain’t enough.
The lash is a tool of the weak, wielded by the likes of Master Scourge, who mistake fear for leadership. But fear doesn’t last, not in a crew with fire in their bellies and steel in their hearts. And these swabs? Oh, they’ve got both in spades.
Allies and Ambitions
The Wyrmwood is a ship of factions, and already the new swabs are carving out their own. Adolfo has a way of making friends, winning over Rosie Cusswell and Sandara Quinn with charm and ease. Knox, for his part, has begun to build bridges with Bonnie Blades and Breaker Bones, forging alliances that could prove vital in the days to come.
Elara’s quiet persistence is paying off with Jack Scrimshaw, who’s starting to warm to her. And even Taur’Thalian, despite his struggles with the grog, is finding his place as the crew’s voice—a skald with songs that inspire and unite, who has gathered more crew to the cause than any.
But who will lead this lot? Knox, with his disdain for poor leadership and his growing sense of purpose? Taur’Thalian, with his ability to rally the crew with words and melody? Or Adolfo, whose charm and daring seem tailor-made for a captain’s hat? The answer is as murky as the Wyrmwood’s bilge water, and just as full of surprises.
The Spark of Something Greater
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the swabs re-emerged from the bilge, bristling with weapons and glints of determination in their eyes. They are not yet a crew, but they are becoming one—bound by their trials, their victories, and their shared defiance of the lash.
The sea, she has her own plans for these souls. Whether they rise to greatness or are dragged to the depths, one thing is certain: the Wyrmwood will remember the day they stepped aboard. And so will we.
Signed,
A Grizzled Old Salt
Watcher of the Waves
| drsparnum |
Party after session 1:
Taur'Thalian Sigtrygrrson: L2 Half-elf Skald (Dragon skald)
Sushi: L1 Tengu druid (shark-shaman) of Hei Feng
Batrachus: L1 Boggard brawler (wild child)
Elara Variel: L1 Human witch (fey-touched hexer)
The Great Adolfo: L1 Human swashbuckler (Inspired blade)
Lawrence "Hard" Knox: L1 Half-orc ranger (Divine tracker)
Phoebe Flynn: L1 Human cleric (Undead lord)
| drsparnum |
And here is where things stand with the crew...this is the level of transparency I have given the players...
Swab
Sandara Quinn - Ally. Potentially romantically interested in The Great Adolfo.
Rosie Cuswell - Ally. Particularly impressed by The Great Adolfo and the singing voice of Taur'Thalien. You know she lost her fiddle. Sucker-punched in the taint Fipps and Aretta when they gossiped about her.
Crimson “Cog” Cogward - No meaningful interactions to date. Got into a fight with Japes after Japes lightly bumped into him; Crimson got lashed for fighting.
Giffer Tibbs - Uncertain - bonded a bit with Phoebe about being far from home
Jack Scrimshaw - Uncertain - Needed a new scrimshaw knife and Sushi got one, but so far not won over. Pushed away a bit by Elara. Was working in the bilges and first to see the dire rats the party killed.
Tilly Brackett - Uncertain - Only meaningful action was her offering to buy rum from Taur'Thalien if he's just going to throw it away, and witnessing a sword duel between Adolfo and Artful Roger
Badger Medlar - Uncertain - Ground with Badger lost by Elara, maybe Badger is jealous of Elara's beauty?
Shivikah - Uncertain - No meaningful interaction
Aretta Bansion - Uncertain - No meaningful role playing interaction. One of the pirates who jumped the party the morning of the second day. Sucker punched by Rosie.
Fipps Chumlett - Enemy- Led the attack on you the morning of the second day. You stole his weapons and his pants and humiliated him. Sucker punched by Rosie
Jaundiced Jape - Uncertain - No meaningful interaction except One of the pirates who jumped the party the morning of the second day. Bumped into Crimson and got into a fight with Crimson
Jakes Magpie - Uncertain - But he's dead from keel-hauling
Breaker Bones - Uncertain - But made a bit more friendly by Knox who promised to guide him out of trouble. Frequently punished for not doing his job well and takes his consequent lumps very well. Even when he does his job well he mouths off and gets punished. Tragic story of family sold into slavery and separated
Riggers
Conchobhar Turlach Shortstone - Uncertain - Knows the individual Elara is seeking up north. Warmed up to Elara who complimented his eye patch.. Hit on Rosie but was seasick and accidently vomitted on her during the conversation -which earned him lashes from a disgusted Master Scourge
Barefoot Samms Toppin - Uncertain - No meaningful role-playing
Ratline Rattsberger - Ally - Taur'Thalien and Elara won him over.
Maheen - Uncertain - Warmed a bit by Taur'Thalien. One of the pirates who jumped the party the morning of the second day.
Slippery Syl Lonegan - Enemy - One of the pirates who jumped the party the morning of the second day.
Tam Narwhal Tate - Enemy
Bonnie Blades - Uncertain
Artful Roger - Uncertain - Did a friendly duel with Adolfo and disarmed Adolfo. One of the pirates who jumped the party the morning of the second day.
Officers
Caulky Tarroon - Uncertain (not really in play) - know she is food taster
Peppery Longfarthing - Uncertain (not really in play) - No one has spoken to her
Riaris Krine - Uncertain (not really in play) - no interaction
Habbly Quarme - Uncertain (not really in play) - he stiched up Jakes after he died for burial at sea
Patch Patchsalt - Uncertain (not really in play)
Owlbear Harshorn - Uncertain
Ambrose Kroop - Uncertain. Interacts with Sushi at work and Sushi seems more focused on doing his job than drinking and talking
Cut Throat Grok - Ally - Won over by Taur Thalien's stories
Master Scourge - Enemy (not really in play)
Barnabas Harrigan - Uncertain (not really in play)
Mister Plugg - Enemy (not really in play) - assigned Batrachus to lookout last night leaving Batrachus little time to rest
Kipper - Uncertain (not really in play)
| drsparnum |
Placeholder spot for Taur'Thalian's player's written background...
Taur’thalian Backstory
A young Ulfen woman laid awake in a fur-lined bed. The room was large, adorned with pelts and other trophies her father had acquired, notably, the two large skulls of a dire wolf and polar bear, presented high on the walls. It was a room befitting the daughter of the Jarl. Bridda stared at the overlapping skins and wooden shingles of the underside of the roof. She waited anxiously for the sound of the stone - the signal that meant Taur’Thalian was outside and ready…Tuar’Thalian was the child of a Ulfen raiding captain, Sigtygrr, and his captured thrall, an elf woman named Taur’Thalia. She was captured during a raid where Sigtrygrr had gained fame within his home kingdom of The Broken Bay in the Land of Linnorm Kings. He led a successful attack on an Elven settlement within the Meriani Forest in Varisia, a raid that yielded various exotic and magical trophies with the crowning achievement being capturing an elven maiden with magical arcane abilities of her own. Sigtrygrr treated his captive well and eventually Taur’Thalia learned to accept and even embrace her new people. She was legally, just a thrall, a slave, but she was respected in the community. Folks would come to her for advice and elvish stories which the Ulfen people were drawn to, naturally. Not surprisingly, after years of being entrenched with the Ulfen village, she and Sigtryrr had a child. Her son, Taur’Thalian, was raised by the village as a free man, not bound like his mother was, as a slave. Sigtrygrr instilled in Taur’Thalian the Ulfen ways, hunting, sailing, fighting, but Taur’s elven Mother, made sure he would know the significance of his blood. He was a child of the stars, like all elves here on Golarian. Often, Taur’ Thalia would point out a tiny but bright green star in the clear night sky, “That’s Castrovel, our home”.... Years later, Bridda, the daughter of the land’s Jarl, couldn’t help but to fall for the interesting and handsome half-elf, even though her father had forbidden their relationship.
Jarl Ivgarr hated that one of his inferiors’ names had spread further than his own. The exotic prisoner was a rarity in the Land of the Linnorm Kings. Even King Ingimundr was interested in the elf thrall, a point that drove Jarl Ivgarr’s jealousy to its limits. When Ivgarr learned of the burgeoning relationship between Taur’thalian and Bridda, he arranged to marry her off to a priest in Skjoldmur.
Taur’Thalian threw another stone at Bridda’s window, from horseback, this one, he knew had hit the mark, making a satisfying report on the glass. But as the sun rose, and as Taur could see Bridda emerge from her window, other figures came from the house and approached him. It was Jarl Ivgarr and his guards. They accused Taur’Thalian of treason and Jarl Ivgarr trained his heavy hunting bow at the half-elf. Tuar’thalian conjured an obscuring mist to cover his escape and he winced, expecting the brutal impact of the Jarl’s deadly arrow but was hit by something else. It was Bridda who collided with him, through the mist she vaulted and landed atop the horse, just as the arrow had found its mark. He rode away, blindly at first, through the fog, but then he felt the warmth of her blood pouring down his back…
With the death of Bridda, and his mother’s fate unknown, Taur’Thalian knew he couldn’t return home, or anywhere in the Land of Linnorm Kings with a Jarl who considers him a traitor, especially a Jarl who is close to the King. Taur’Thalian turned south - hopping from Ulfen trading ship to trading ship to a place he had heard about that would accept wayward Northmen, an island in the Shackles, Tempest Cay.
Years have passed since he left the North Lands but he hasn’t forgotten his Mother, or what Jarl Ivgarr inflicted upon him. He will return one day and reclaim his honor and find glory and earn his seat in the Valenhall, if that is his destiny, and destiny is all.
Taur’Thalian in the Shackles
Taur’Thalian has been in the Shackles for about 5 years. He has found some work as Pirate captains have found him valuable, what with Taur’s ability to whistle up some wind or call up some fog to cover an escape, there may be some rumors circulating around the pirate circles, he hopes there is anyway. He has settled into the Tempcast Cay and occasionally feels compelled to gaze at the sea and dream of a destiny filled with glory.
A few weeks ago a trading captain, one Taur’Thalian had never heard of, requested Taur meet her at Port Peril. The message included a sketch of a map, most intriguing. Taur arrived two days early to settle in a bar he had heard of, the Formidably Maid tavern, known for its unsavory clientele. He has a few drinks and wanders to the nearby dock to stare at the water in the starlight…. Black out.
Taur’Thalian’s personality
Taur has a magnetic personality. He seems exotic but comforting to people who take the time to get to know him. However, to people who don’t know him, he has a hard time finding acceptance. He is not afraid to get his hands dirty, with work or a fight.
He is driven by wealth and power but most of all, the idea of becoming well known is what drives him, Fame and Glory, with the ultimate goal of leading a raid on his homeland one day. He dreams of getting vengeance on Jarl Ivgarr and maybe even slay a Linnorm and become King, if that is his destiny.
He has first hand experience with slavery as he was born to a slave. He feels that slavery is acceptable, but mistreating or torturing slaves is where he draws the line. If someone was powerful enough to take a slave, they should be powerful enough to treat them well.
| drsparnum |
Placeholder spot for the Great Adolfo backstory
The Makings of a Pirate
Captain Reginald Pettiford the Third gazed out of the large ornate window behind his desk in his personal quarters, chest puffed out and hands clasped together behind his back. He breathed a deep sigh as he took in the perfect view of the open ocean behind “The Oasis”. It had only been around 4 months since he took charge of this vessel, and he could already tell how fast they were moving just by eyeballing the wake it left behind them.
“At least 10 knots… maybe 12” he mused to himself.
The Oasis was an older warship, classified somewhere between a large brigantine and a small frigate. It had been recently refurbished into a merchant vessel, but with a much faster setup and rigging than usual, per the Pettiford family’s request. It had been able to make almost twice as many runs up and down the local trading routes than its predecessor and Reginald was way ahead of schedule for this month’s deliveries.
They had just sailed out of Port Peril, after an unscheduled stop that nobody in his family needed to know about. There was no way his father would be okay with him risking their newly christened flagship visiting such an unscrupulous and dangerous location. And he would be even less thrilled knowing of his favorite son’s… let’s just say, less repudiable doings and dealings, which had been going on for far longer than his service to the family business.
But Reginald was known in this area. And he had done enough “under the radar” dealings here and provided favors for enough of the right people in this area to enter and exit the port unfettered. Regardless, The Oasis had retained a lot of its teeth from the old warship days and would be a handful for any pirate crew to try to conquer.
He smiled to himself.
“Reg, you’ve outdone yourself this time!”
He reached inside his coat pocket as he turned to face his desk. He carefully produced a rolled-up parchment, slightly yellowed and frayed around the edges, and placed it down. He unsuccessfully tried to contain his giddiness as he rolled it out onto the desk and smoothed it out.
A map. Weathered and worn but in surprisingly good shape considering how many times it had violently changed hands over the last few weeks. But his informant had been right and the drunken idiot who stole it last was dumb enough to put it up on the poker table, and three Queens decided that now it was his!
“Simply marvelous” he whispered to himself as he processed what he was seeing.
He placed his hands flat on the two ends of the map and leaned in close to get a good look.
“This could be the one” he thought to himself. “The one thing I do on my own that separates me from the Pettiford name and this accursed level of expectation everyone has for me. An escape from this boring drudgery of fair trade, noble intentions and honest dealings. And X marks the spot!”
But just before he could fully immerse himself in the daydream of going rogue and sailing out for an unsanctioned and certainly unacceptable treasure hunt, there was a knock at the door.
He sighed loudly and begrudgingly answered. “Yes?”
A familiar voice responded meekly from behind the door.
“Sir, do you have a minute?”
Reginald winced and decided it better to answer a question with a question before granting entrance.
“Is it an emergency?” he asked, his gaze remaining squarely on the map.
“Well… no. Not really.” the voice responded, weak and wavering.
Reginald sighed even louder.
“Then, no I do not have a minute, Clancey.” he responded sharply.
He could almost picture his quartermaster, all 6 and a half feet, 300 lbs. of him, standing awkwardly outside, wringing his hands and trying to work up the courage to knock in the first place. No doubt the tone Reginald had given him in that last rebuke had send him running off. Clancey was a mountain of a man, and as reliable and competent a sailor as you could ever ask for... but he had no backbone whatsoever when it came to chain of command.
Reginald hesitated to dive back into his daydream for a minute, and the extended silence told him he was right to believe Clancey had gotten the point. But just as he started picturing himself standing atop a pile of treasure again, the voice came barreling back in… or, more accurately, came weaseling its way back in again like a frightened mouse.
“Um, sir” it squeaked.
“Dammit Clancey! If it’s not an emergency, please just go and I’ll see you when I get the chance!”
“But sir.” Clancey responded in a voice no louder than a whisper “It’s him”
Reginald’s shoulder sank. He lifted his right hand off the map and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut.
“Not now” he thought to himself. “Why does this always happen at the worst times?”
His delay in responding invited further unwanted explanation from Clancey, who started babbling incoherently. Reginald acquiesced, quickly rolled up the map, took a deep breath, and called out.
“OK, OK, just come in!”
As Clancey opened the door, his incoherent ramblings became slightly more decipherable.
“I know you said you don’t like to be interrupted, but you also said that if he was involved then I should always interrupt you but then again that goes against you needing your “Captain Time” as you call it and I hate to be the one to interrupt that, but then again if he causes bigger problems, that could interrupt you even more and for even longer so I think the better option is to…”
After a few, calm but futile “Alright, Clancey” responses went unacknowledged, Reginald finally lost all patience.
“Clancey! That’s enough! I get it!”
Clancey jumped a bit and went immediately silent. He stood there, his giant frame blocking almost all daylight from coming in. He began wringing his hands apologetically.
“I’m sorry, sir.” he said sheepishly.
Reginald couldn’t help but smile. Clancey looked like he could faint at any moment from just a harsh word. But if you stuck a sword in his hand and threw him onto an enemy ship, he could quite possibly take the entire crew by himself.
He walked around his desk and approached Clancey, placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder once in reach.
“No, I’m sorry, old friend.” he said with a knowing nod “You did the right thing.”
Then he gathered himself and took a step back.
“So, what has he done now?”
Clancey regained his composure. “He wants a weapon” he said producing a piece of parchment from his pocket. “This is the fifth requisition he’s put in this week alone. And I have over a dozen from last week. I keep telling him that we’ll look into it, that there’s a shortage, that there’s a problem with his paperwork, I even told him that we have defective blades… I’m running out of excuses!”
Reginald nodded in understanding. “OK, OK, so where is he now?” he asked, his voice sounding tired.
“Well, he’s been demanding to see you about this matter” Clancey responded. “He says these delays are an ‘affront to his honor’ and he ‘demands satisfaction from the captain’. Pierce is with him now… running a little interference so I could get here first to warn you.”
“Thanks, Clancey.” he responded. “I’ll take it from here. Get back to work.”
Clancey nodded and quickly marched off. He moved surprisingly fast for such a large man. As he left, sunlight poured in. “It’s too beautiful of a day to be ruined by this” Reginald thought. He decided to leave the door open. He’d need all the fresh air he could get in anticipation of what was coming.
A few minutes later, a familiar face popped into the doorway. He gave a couple of courtesy knocks to the door frame before casually strolling in.
“Hey boss. Clancey talk to you yet?” he said with a smirk.
He was much smaller than Clancey, but somehow just as imposing, maybe even more so… medium height, medium build, but carrying a confidence much larger than his stature. The scars on his cheek and over his eye, combined with the missing chunk of his left ear, showed that he was battle hardened and not to be trifled with.
Reginald rolled his eyes and scoffed back. “Yes, Pierce. And try not to sound too happy when you bring this crap to me. Can you at least try to bring a sympathetic ear to your captain?”
Pierce snapped to attention and gave an overexaggerated bow.
“Of course, my captain.” he responded, switching to a most over-the-top sarcastic tone of remorse “I deeply regret to inform you of this burdensome news. Please forgive my impudence and have mercy on this worthless and undeserving soul that stands before you.”
Reginald held back a laugh and waved a hand in surrender.
“Alright. Alright.” he said glancing over Pierce’s shoulder. The absence of anyone else in the room loomed large given the context of the conversation. “Um… so where is he?”
Pierce’s smile grew wider. “He demands a proper introduction before entering the room.”
Reginald’s hand went back to pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight, a position that had become all too common for him, as the signature headache began stirring behind his eyes. As he opened them, he noticed a head peeking around the edge of the doorway, retreating quickly out of sight as he made eye contact with it. He sighed loudly.
Pierce’s eyes followed Reginald’s over to the doorway and then back again. If his smile could grow any larger, it might have fallen right off his face.
“Should I indulge him, Reg?” he asked.
Reginald considered the proposition for a moment.
“Probably not.” he admitted. ”Indulging him is likely the worst thing to do. But I don’t have the energy to fight this right now, so…” he gestured defeatedly toward the door. “By all means.”
Pierce walked over to the side of the door and stood at attention. He took a moment to steady himself and try to hold some level of composure.
“Captain, it is my distinct pleasure to introduce to you…” Pierce began, pausing to sarcastically add in some simulated fanfare “Dun, dun, daaaaaaa”, which he dragged on far too long, before finishing with…
“The Great Alfredo!”
After a couple of heartbeats of nothing happening, a high pitched, nasally voice pierced the resulting silence.
“No, no, no! It’s Adolfo! The Great Adolfo!”
A head poked into the doorway and continued whining. “I know you did that on purpose, Pierce!” Then mumbling continued as the head retreated once again.
Reginald had just about had enough. “OK. Great Alonso, come on in already.”
“It’s Adolfo!” the voice screamed back as the sound of an angry foot stomp echoed in with it.
“Fine. Just come in!” he replied with an eye roll.
There was a pause and a couple of throat clearing coughs before a tall, lanky figure glided through the doorway. He was in his early twenties, just under 6 feet tall, light skin with fairly long, dark hair, perfectly coifed, with a well-manicured beard across his chin, and no mustache. He strode in confidently, straight up to the captain, pausing briefly to throw a sneering glance at Pierce as he walked by. He snapped his heels to a halt a few paces in front of Reginald, removed his large-feathered cavalier hat with his left hand and bowed deeply. The hat was the only genuinely nice article of clothing he had on, in direct contrast to the grease-stained shirt & pants combination, complimented by the ratty officer’s jacket he had on over them. He held his hat under his arm, against his side, as he spoke.
“Captain, it is a pleasure to meet with you on this fine day” he stated respectfully.
His voice had changed significantly. Now it deepened, carrying a palpable gravitas, with an unplaceable accent that hadn’t been there before. Despite holding a much nobler and eloquent tone, Reginald found it even more annoying than the whining from before.
“Hi, Frankie. What do you need?” he replied flatly, trying to hold back the disdain in his voice.
The man flinched ever so slightly, clearly wounded by the way he was addressed. His shoulders slouched as his eyes started to lower, darting around the room in confusion.
“For-for-forgive me, captain, b-but I do not know who this ‘Frankie’ you speak of is,” he stammered weakly, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “Per-perhaps you are confused. I am…um…I’m…”
“I know. I know. Adolfo… The Great Adolfo,” he interrupted, fighting desperately to hold his composure. “Let’s just get to it, alright? What do you want?”
He recovered immediately, shoulders straightened, chest puffed out, his unidentifiable accent stronger than ever.
“Ha, ha, haaaa!” he barked triumphantly. “I knew my reputation had preceded me!”
He beamed a wide, smug smile, clearly very pleased with himself. Reginald thought his face was more punch-able than ever.
But that didn’t draw his attention as much as the outfit he was wearing.
“I know you spend an entire week’s wage on that hat but what the hell did you do to your jacket?” Reginald asked.
He had the same jacket that everyone on the senior crew had, with the Pettigrew family crest on the left breast and the symbol indicating your rank/job on the right. In Frankie’s case, there was a patch depicting a gear, which indicated he was the ship’s Engineer. Frankie had altered his jacket to have long tails in the back and piping like an officer’s coat, though done quite poorly given the actual materials needed for such a coat weren’t available. He had also removed the family crest from the left breast. Even more notably, he had altered the Engineer’s patch to have two rapiers crossing in front of the gear and a feathered cap on top of it. Reginald mused that this must be “The Great Adolfo’s” version of the Jolly Rodger.
The man ignored the question and barreled forward.
“But to business, captain,” he said, his tone strengthening. “Though your crew has been more than hospitable, they seem to have unfortunately, um, how you say… ‘displaced’ my weapon.”
“Frankie, the word is ‘misplaced’ and you know that because you are not a foreigner,” Reginald replied. “And you already have a weapon.”
He gestured to the makeshift scabbard hanging off the rope Frankie was using as a makeshift belt.
“See?”
But the Great Adolfo didn’t miss a beat.
“Ha, ha, haaaa!” he boomed. “I see your sense of humor is as strong as your resolve!”
He drew the ‘sword’ from the ‘scabbard’, revealing that it was made of wood, clearly a training sword. He swished it around expertly for a few moments and then slid one hand halfway down the ‘blade’ and laid it the sword flat in his hands. He then presented it to Reginald, arms outstretched, in a manner akin to a captain surrendering his blade in forfeit of combat.
“I’m sure your discerning eye can see that this is not a weapon fit for a swordsman of my, how you say… ‘calendar’.”
“It’s ‘caliber’, Frankie, and you damn well know that!” Reginald said through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath to calm himself a bit before continuing. “We’ve been through this too many times before. You cannot have a real weapon… ever. You don’t need one and Besmara knows what would happen if you ever got a hold of one.”
The man’s smile slowly evaporated as his eyes narrowed.
“I see how it is, captain,” he sneered. “You have drawn a line in the sand. You fear what I am capable of. You fear the hold you have over this slave ship may be slipping away. You fear the love and respect that these men, who toil under your iron boot, have for me. If given the chance to see me wielding steel, that they would all, how you say… ‘multiply’!”
Pierce snorted from the doorway, desperately holding back a laugh.
Reginald found none of this funny.
“You mean ‘mutiny’ you half-wit!” he snapped stepping forward. “And the fact you are even mentioning the concept of that is going to make me quickly forget about the promise I made to your mother in letting you on this boat in the first place!”
The man stepped back, grabbing the wooden sword back by its handle and raising it upright in front of his face.
“So you wish to challenge me!” he proclaimed. “I accept. And I demand terms! We shall duel tomorrow at dawn at a location that I…”
Reginald could take no more.
“Francis Aloysius Polowotski!” he boomed. “I have had enough of your crap! You and ‘The Great Avocado’ better get out of my sight and back to work right this minute or both of you will be swimming back to shore!”
With that, any semblance of confidence drained from the man’s faced. His shoulder’s drooped as his arms went slack to his sides. The wooden sword slowly dropped out of his hand, and clattered to the floor. The cavalier’s hat soon followed. His eyes dropped and then began darting all over the room again.
The squeaky voice returned.
“R-R-Reg?” he stammered as he struggled to make eye contact. “Why am… um, why am I h-h-here? D-d-did I do something… b-b-bad?”
Reginald sighed as all anger washed away in an instant. He walked over to him and put a reassuring arm around his back. He walked him gently toward the door.
“No, Frankie” he said. “You’re OK. Just get back to work. You’re doing a great job.”
Frankie’s gaze settled on the floor and his posture perked up. Wherever his mind was lost to, he had finally made it back.
Pierce had already gone to the door to grab a crewman nearby. After a minute or so, Reginald handed Frankie off to the crewman, giving clear instruction to take him to his quarters for an ordered nap before returning to his workshop.
As he left Frankie turned, smiling, and squeaked “Thanks, Reg. You’re the best.”
“You got it, Frankie.” He replied with a sad smirk.
Pierced closed the door and turned. His oversized grin was gone, replaced by a slightly pitying but very sincere frown.
“He’s getting worse, Reg.” he said solemnly.
“I know. I know.” Reginald replied as he walked back to his desk. “I thought this job would keep him focused and maybe… I don’t know.” He sank into his chair, defeated.
Pierce dragged a chair from near the door and sat opposite Reginald. He produced a flask from his jacket took a swig and passed it across. Reginald took a swig and offered it back. Pierce waved him off.
“You need that more than I do” he said, leaning back in his chair stretching his arms over his head. “So, I know he’s your cousin, and that he has… issues. But explain to me again why we’re putting up with all this, given what this ship means to your family and what we’re trying to do here.”
“My aunt made me promise to give him a job and keep him out of trouble.” Reginald explained, pausing thoughtfully for a moment. “Of course, that was after my father ordered me to. Apparently, she had already given him an earful. I guess she persuaded him.”
Pierce chuckled. “I wasn’t aware your father could be persuaded to do anything other than what he already wanted to.”
“Frankie is… a sore subject” Reginald said, carefully choosing his words. “My father feels a bit… guilty… over what he’s become. Truth is, I feel bad for him too. He’s a good kid, with a good heart. Always has been.”
Pierce smiled and leaned forward. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s a wiz with machines, huh? Especially boats?”
“You have no idea.” Reginald said smiling back. “Ever since he could crawl, he’s been taking things apart and putting them back together. He’s a genius. Certifiably so.”
“So that’s why he went to that crazy boarding school I’ve heard him lament so much about” Pierce concluded. “Must’ve been hard going away so young.”
Reginald flinched uncomfortably and took a long pull from the flask.
“He told you about that?” he said. His tone much darker now.
“Well, yeah” Pierce admitted. “He’s a pretty open book, shy as he is. Kept saying it’s where he learned about science and engineering, complicated devices and whatnot… he even told me the name of the place. The Weatherby School or something.”
Reginald shook his head slowly. “And that’s where the delusions begin” he said softly “It isn’t a school. Weatherby House was a boy’s home… for troubled children.”
Pierces eyebrows raised. “Ah. So all of this goes that far back huh?”
“Not exactly” Reginald explained. “He was a good kid… just, energetic. Always bouncing off the walls, never sitting still. Drove his parent crazy. Teachers couldn’t get him to sit for lessons. His mind wandered even more than his body, always imagining being on some great adventure… a warrior charging into battle, an explorer braving the deepest jungles, or…” he stopped and gestured to Pierce.
“Or a dashing, swashbuckling pirate.” Pierce finished.
“It was my father’s idea to send him to Weatherby House. To realize the full potential of his brilliant mind, they needed to ‘fix’ him first” Reginald continued, “In my father’s defense, it was an expensive and seemingly reputable place.”
“I’m guessing it wasn’t” Pierce interjected.
“It destroyed Frankie” he replied sadly. “They kept him locked up most of the time, using regimented behavioral drills combined with some ‘cutting-edge’ alchemy-based medical modification. He collapsed into himself, surviving only by imagining that he was some dashing hero, imprisoned by some evil prince or something. All of the ‘studying’ he claimed to do was his scheming ways to escape. Truth is he spent years stuck with only a library for entertainment and being punished for doing just about anything outside of his drills, which consisted of endless puzzles, meaningless menial tasks and endless busywork.”
“So he eventually escaped?” Pierce asked.
“Only in his mind” Reginald lamented. “He read books upon book on science and engineering, mechanics, carpentry, seafaring, even alchemy… anything that fit into the fantasy of his grand scheme to break out and go adventuring.”
“So how did he get out?” Pierce asked.
“The medicine they were given him was designed to refocus his mind and sharpen his senses. The idea was to improve his balance, hand eye coordination, and agility, while suppressing his impulses. That way he could be put to use on intricate tasks involving his hands and those focused tasks would keep his mind from wandering.” Reginald sighed.
“And the result is a highly skilled but lobotomized worker bee.” Pierce concluded.
“I guess their idea of ‘true potential’ wasn’t what my father had envisioned” Reginald scoffed. “And unfortunately, he realized it too late.”
“So Frank created ‘The Great Adolfo’ to survive” Pierce shook his head. “That explains so much.”
Reginald got up and slowly walked over to where the wooden sword and hat still lay on the floor. He picked them up and placed them on his desk. He stood over them and stared.
“I’m starting to think there’s more Adolfo in there, than Frankie. In fact, I’m not sure Frankie ever left Weatherby House.” His voice quivered a bit at the thought.
Pierce stood up. “You want some privacy, Reg?” he asked.
“No, no.” he reassured. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about… can’t remember right now.” Then his mind snapped to the parchment in his coat pocket. “The map!” he exclaimed.
Pierce cocked his head in curiosity. “Map? What map?”
As he reached for his pocket the ship suddenly lurched hard to starboard, almost knocking both men off their feet.
“What the hell?” Reginald yelled holding his desk for support.
Pierce sprang for the door.
“Hang here boss.” He said as he ran out to the deck. “I’ll be back with a report in a few”
Reginald ran to the rear window behind his desk and peered out. It was immediately clear that something was wrong with the rudder. Their wake was choppy and the ship was slowing fast. After a few moments, the creak of a floorboard and the dimming of the sunlight flooding in gave Reginald the indication that someone was at the door. Pierce had returned rather quickly.
Without turning he called out. “Pierce. Get over here and look at this! The rudder has fouled!”
But there were no rushing footsteps, just the sound of the door closing and some slow shuffling of feet.
Reginald turned to see Frankie sheepishly walking towards his desk. He looked terrible, paler than he had ever seen him, head drenched in sweat. “He must’ve woken up from the boat heaving” he thought. “This would be something he, as ship’s engineer, would be responsible for reporting on”
Reginald rushed over to him.
“Frankie, you should be resting” he said calmly. “You’re in no shape to be working now.”
“I’m so sorry, Reg” he croaked, voice wavering. He was shivering uncontrollably
Reginald took off his coat and put it on Francis. Then, he put his arm around him and gently led him towards the door.
“It’s OK, buddy.” Reginald said reassuringly. “No one’s mad at you.”
“Why did you take his hat?” Francis said quietly, stopping abruptly.
“Huh?” said Reginald. “I didn’t. You dropped it before you left. It’s right over there.”
“He wants it now” he grumbled. “And his sword.”
Though his tone was concerning, Reginald opted to acquiesce. He had never seen Francis so frail. Keeping him calm was the priority.
“I’ll get them for you” he said trotting over to the desk. “Hang tight.”
“Do you think he’s stupid?” he asked turning back to Reginald.
“Huh?” he responded.
Francis’ gaze slowly rose to meet his for the first time since he came in.
“Do you think he’s stupid?” he repeated. “That he doesn’t realize what you’re doing?”
“Francis, you’re really starting to make me worry” Reginald replied. “It’s just you and me, buddy. We’ve been over this. There is no ‘he’.”
Francis broke down and started to weep. “I’m so sorry” he pleaded “I can’t stop it anymore”
Reginald started to comfort him but a thought made him freeze for a moment. His eyes growing wide as he realized Francis wasn’t apologizing about the incident before, or his outburst now.
“What did you do Frankie?” he asked sternly.
As if on cue, the ship lurched again.
“I didn’t want to!” Francis exclaimed. “I’m so sorry!”
Reginald rushed toward the door but Francis stepped in his path. As he tried to push by him Francis deftly slipped around behind him and clamped his left arm around Reginald’s throat.
“Ha, ha, haaa!” a familiar voice crowed in his ear. “Unfortunately for you, Captain. The Great Adolfo, is never sorry!”
With that he brought his other hand up to Reginald’s face, placing a dampened cloth over his mouth. Reginald barely had time to realize what was happening before he lost consciousness.
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Out on the main deck, Pierce was rushing back to the captain’s quarters, having thoroughly ascertaining how screwed the vessel was. The alarm bell was ringing, and all hands were on alert. As he neared the captain’s door, it suddenly burst open. A figure swaggered out. It looked like Reginald but wearing a ridiculously oversized hat. It didn’t take him long to figure out who it was.
“Ha, ha, haaaa!” the figure bellowed. “Hello, er ‘Pierce’ was it?”
“Hello, nutbar” he retorted. “Can I assume you’re behind this?”
“Indeed” he admitted proudly. “And by this I assume you mean liberating my brothers in arms from your captain’s tyranny.”
“Francis, this is you cousin’s ship and there is no tyranny.” He replied, leveling a flat stare.
“No more words, Pierce” he said curtly. “If you want to speak you must do it with steel!”
He opened his coat to reveal the very real rapier sheathed at his side. Pierce quickly realized that he was wearing Reginald’s coat and sword, and Reginald was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s, Reg?” he asked cautiously keeping his hands out in the open, “I’m not gonna fight you, Francis. But I need to know if he’s ok.”
“The Great Adolfo, would not murder a Captain in cold blood! He’ll be up and about any moment now” he cried, deftly leaping back and up the stairs leading to the higher rear deck. He then turned to address the large number of onlookers from the crew who began gathering.
“But The Great Adolfo would lead his fellow men in overthrowing the tyrant captain and taking this vessel for themselves. What say you men?!”
Silence ensued with a few confused, angry murmurs and a distinct “Jackass!” coming from the crowd.
The Great Adolfo was unphased.
“Ah, a loyal crew! I respect that! But I feel the tides are about to turn for you all!” he scoffed coyly.
There was an awkward pause. The crew looked around at one another, but nothing happened. Just as Pierce piped up to speak, he was interrupted by a ship-rocking boom somewhere below deck. Smoke began billowing out of the hatches further forward on the ship. Pierce stood staring, mouth agape. He slowly turned back and shook his head, utterly dumbfounded.
“Francis, what in Besmara’s name have you done!” he exclaimed.
Men started pouring out from below deck, coughing and gasping for fresh air.
“There we are!” The Great Adolfo chimed. “If your crew won’t fight for their freedom, perhaps your slaves will! Take up arms men! Follow me to liberty!”
“Francis, that was the night crew’s quarters! They get paid to be here! And quite well!” Pierce stammered in a beyond exasperated tone.
Up to this point the crew had been following Pierce’s lead and not escalating the situation. But once the night crew joined the day crew and they quickly figured out what was going on, mob mentality kicked in and they all started heading toward the rear deck.
The Great Adolfo addressed the newly formed mob.
“Oh, ho, hoooo! So, you slaves have come to sympathize with your captors. How sad! Slavery is such a boorish thing. It sucks away a one’s spirit! Spirits are meant to be dominated through fear or won over through inspiration! Captivity is a fate worse than death!”
Pierce watched helplessly as the mob began making their way up to the rear deck. But before they could get too close, The Great Adolfo held up a strange pouch he had been hiding in his hand. The crew stopped immediately as they were all familiar with what it was. They had been hauling a load of alchemical items in a specialized, fireproof section of the hold. This was, in essence, a bomb.
The Great Adolfo smiled at this reaction.
“Ah, so you are familiar with the alchemist fire, huh? This one is particularly potent as I have added some of my own special Adolfo flair to it. Come any closer and this entire ship will become a, how you say… ‘informal’.”
“You mean ‘inferno’, Frankie” a familiar voice called out. “Will you please stop pretending you’re from wherever the hell you claim to be from.”
Reginald emerged from his quarters, stumbling dizzily.
For the first time, The Great Adolfo seemed a bit shaken.
“Don’t do this, Frankie,” Reginald continued. “I know you’re still in there. Come back to us.”
Francis appeared for a moment, confused and scared as always, eyes darting around.
“Reg?” he blurted out weakly. But quickly shook his head and reverted back to his arrogant alter-ego.
“There is no ‘Frankie’ anymore” he sad angrily, accent stronger than ever. “All we ever wanted was adventure. All we’ve ever gotten is captivity. This ship has been just another prison. And where your Frankie fails to escape, The Great Adolfo succeeds… say goodbye to your ‘Frankie’ once and for all!”
“You don’t mean that Frankie!” Reginald pleaded. “We’re a family. That crest on your jacket… that binds us forever! You are not some insane, smarmy, pirate scoundrel! You are a sweet, gentle man, and an amazing engineer, and this ship and everyone on it, needs you!”
The Great Adolfo looked down at his jacket. He placed his free hand over the family crest, which sat just over his heart. A tear fell from his eye and the scared boy appeared once more. He looked up shaking. Reginald knew he was getting through… he could bring his cousin back from this!
But Frankie’s hand felt something beneath the crest. Something bulged below the stitching. He reached his hand inside the inner pocket and produced a yellowed piece of parchment. Before Reginald could yell out a protest he unfurled it into the wind.
It was a map. An honest to goodness treasure map!
Frankie trembled as he stared at it. His eyes moved to his cousin, then back to the map. He took a deep breath and smelled the sea air. He looked down and saw the ornate rapier at his side. He glanced up and saw the brim of his hat. He looked out and just about the entire ship was watching him from below. He was in charge here. He was important….
He was a pirate!
“Ha, ha, haaaaa!” he exclaimed. “The Great Adolfo has no family! He is married to the sea and his mistress is adventure!”
With that he heaved the special Adolfo alchemist fire toward the main mast. As it burst onto the main sail, lighting it aflame, he threw his cousin’s jacket off… “The shackles of a slave’s life!” he thought to himself. His own, makeshift officer’s jacket lay beneath, with his modified Adolfo Engineer’s patch. He rolled up the map, stuffed it into his pocket and leapt toward the dinghy hanging off the port side of the ship’s aft. Before he hit the winch to drop it down into the sea he addressed Pierce, the crew and his cousin one last time.
“If you’re feeling raw about what The Great Adolfo has done this day, come find me and kill me… if you’re feeling inspired, come find me and join me! Either way it will be… how you say… ‘FUN’!!!”
As the dinghy hit the water, it automatically released from the winch ropes and after a few seconds a small mast and sail popped up. This was a pet project of his and he conveniently hadn’t gotten around to upgrading the other lifeboats on the Oasis. So even though it was obvious he would head back to Port Peril, there was no way they could come close to beating him there. With what he’d done to the ship, they would be days behind, maybe more.
As the sail caught the wind and pulled him quickly away from the burning vessel he caught a glimpse of his cousin standing on the edge of the ship, watching him sail away, with one last glimmer of hope in his sad eyes.
But Reginald was looking for Francis… and Francis was no more.
| drsparnum |
Summary of Session 2. I added the Dungeon adventure Salvage Operation into here as per Dudemeister's recommendation. I also added an artifact of my own design (and described elsewhere) - The Pieces of Eight - in this session too. One of my players wrote this up, and alternates the perspective of the author for each section...he did a great job.
Day 5: The Storm and the Sea – As Told by Barefoot Samms
I should’ve died today. Should’ve gone down to the deep, lungs burnin', the salt claimin’ me like it’s claimed so many before. My body left to drift, bones picked clean by the sea’s hungry mouths. But I didn’t. And it ain’t ‘cause of luck. It’s ‘cause of them.
The storm came sudden-like, as they do in these cursed waters. The Wyrmwood pitched and rolled, waves high as mountains crashin’ down, wind screamin' through the rigging like the wailin’ of the dead. I was up high, too high, lashed to the lines, tryin’ to hold fast while the ship fought to shake me loose. Every rope I grabbed turned slick with rain, and the wood beneath my bare feet felt more treacherous than ever.
I saw it comin’ too late—the swell that reared up like a beast outta hell. It hit the hull hard, and next thing I knew, I was weightless. Fallin’.
The scream never made it past my lips, swallowed by the wind as I plunged into the black water below.
The sea... it’s not like the land. When you fall in, the sea don’t catch you gentle-like. It takes you. It drags you down, down, deeper, into the cold where your heart beats too fast, then too slow. I thrashed, fightin’ it, but the cold was already in my bones, and my clothes pulled me deeper. I tried to claw my way back up, see the light, the ship, anything—but all I saw was black.
Then, through the roar of the storm and the hammerin' of my own heartbeat, I heard 'em.
Knox. Big, mean, steady-as-the-tide Knox. He hit the water like a damned harpoon, strong strokes cuttin’ through the waves. Right behind him, Batrachus, all froggy and slick, movin’ through the water like he belonged there more than on land.
I reached, but the sea wanted me more than they did. I felt my fingers slipping, legs like lead, and I thought, this is it.
Then Knox grabbed me. His grip was like iron, haulin’ me up from the abyss while Batrachus kicked alongside, his big bulgin’ eyes dartin’ about like he was expectin’ somethin’ worse to come outta the dark. Maybe he was right. Maybe somethin’ was watchin’ from below. Ain’t no way to tell.
But it weren’t over. Even with me hauled up, the ship was gettin’ farther away, each wave shovin’ us back. And that’s when I saw Adolfo—damned man had rope in his hands, and instead of throwin' it like any sane person would, he’s building somethin’. A pulley. The fool was makin’ a bloody pulley in the middle of a storm!
I thought we were done for. I thought, this is it, we’re done. But Adolfo? He’s fast. He’s smart. And when that rope came down, Knox wrapped it round me and held fast, haulin’ me through the water with all the strength he had left.
And Taur’Thalian? That man sang. Sang. While I was drownin’, while Knox was pullin’, while Adolfo was riggin’—he sang through the storm like it were nothin'. And damn if it didn’t help. Kept us pushin’, kept us fightin’, and when the ship pulled us aboard, I swore I heard him still hummin'.
I hit the deck, coughin’ up more seawater than I thought a body could hold. The crew laughed, cheerin’, jeerin’, callin’ me a fool for fallin’ in, but I didn’t care. I was alive.
And I knew, right then and there—without them? I’d be bones on the ocean floor.
Knox, Taur’Thalian, Adolfo, Batrachus... even Sushi and Flynn, though they weren’t much help today, they’d all stood together. A proper crew.
And me? I owe ‘em my life. I don’t forget debts like that. Not ever.
The Big Fight – As Told by Owlbear Harshorn
Owlbear don’t like fightin’. Not really. Fightin’ hurts. But Mr. Plugg says, “Fight, Owlbear! Show ‘em what you’re made of!” And Owlbear does what Mr. Plugg says, ‘cause Mr. Plugg gives him food sometimes. Not always good food, but food’s food, and Owlbear don’t complain much.
So, when they dragged him outta his place and put him in front of the crew, Owlbear knew what was comin’. The crew all hollerin’ and laughin’, and there standin’ there in front of him—some kinda frog-man. Big eyes. Funny smell. Not like the usual ones they throw at him.
“Fight, Owlbear!” they shout.
Owlbear don’t wanna, but he gotta. Mr. Plugg's watchin’.
The frog-man starts jumpin’ ‘round, real quick-like. Owlbear tries to hit him, but the frog is slippery. Too slippery. Hits him hard—bam!—right in the gut. Owlbear don’t like that. Hurts bad. Feels it deep. He swings back, but frog’s already movin’, bouncin’ like a fish that don’t wanna be caught.
Owlbear’s fists feel slow, heavy. The frog-man ain’t slow. He’s fast. Fast like the little crabs Owlbear tries to catch in the hold. And then—bam!—another hit, and Owlbear’s head rings like when the ship creaks too loud in the night.
The crew’s laughin’ now, shoutin' things like “Give ‘im another!” and “Croak ‘im good!” Owlbear don’t like laughin’. Laughin’ means he’s losin’. Mr. Plugg don’t like losin’. Owlbear don’t wanna get whipped again. He tries hard, real hard, swingin’ big, puttin’ all his strength into it. But the frog-man? He don’t get hit. Owlbear gets hit. Again.
Owlbear thinks, maybe, he gonna lose. Maybe the frog-man gonna win. Then, Owlbear feels somethin’ strange. Frog-man stops. Stops hittin’. Stops jumpin’. Just stands there, lookin’ at him all strange.
And Owlbear don’t know why... but he don’t hit him back.
Nobody’s ever stopped before. Nobody’s ever looked at him like that. Like he’s more than just someone to hit. Owlbear blinks, rubbin’ his sore spots, lookin’ at the frog-man. Crew still cheerin', still laughin', but Owlbear don’t care much no more.
Frog-man coulda hit him again. But he didn’t. Owlbear don’t know why. But he thinks... maybe frog-man not so bad. Maybe frog-man knows what it’s like to get hit too much.
When the fight’s done, and Mr. Plugg’s scowlin’, Owlbear waddles over to the frog-man. He don’t say much—Owlbear ain’t good with words—but he nods. Frog-man nods back.
Owlbear thinks... maybe frog-man is a friend. Maybe.
Day 6: The Rigging Rumble – Narwhal Taint’s Take
Narwhal Taint sat on a coil of rope, nursing his bruised pride and a sore back, muttering curses under his breath. Day 6 aboard the Wyrmwood had been a fine day—until it wasn't.
"Knox," he spat, practically tasting the name in his mouth. The big bastard had been getting too comfortable, walking around like he owned the place. Sure, he was strong, sure, he had the know-how, but Narwhal wasn't about to let some half-orc usurper make a fool of him. No sir.
So he did what any good pirate with a grudge and half a brain would do—he meddled. Slipped a knot here, loosened a rope there. Nothing too obvious, but enough to make Knox’s work slow and sloppy. That would show him who really knew their way around a ship. But what does the thick-headed oaf do? He stomps right up to Narwhal, eyes burning with that usual too-serious look of his, and tries to scare him. Intimidation, like Narwhal hadn't seen it all before.
"Back off, Taint," Knox had growled, looming like a storm cloud, fists clenched tight enough to crush an anchor.
Narwhal just grinned, showing his yellowed teeth. "Make me."
And oh, he did.
Before Narwhal could spit out another insult, Knox’s fists came down like a thunderstorm, quicker than a shark in the shallows. Narwhal, slippery and tough, dodged once—twice—but then? Bam! One clean hit to the jaw and he was seeing stars. Didn't even land a solid punch on the bastard.
Of course, Scourge wasn't one to let a good fight go unpunished, even if he'd probably enjoyed watching Knox smack him around. Both of them got three lashes at Bloody Hour, the sting of the cat-o’-nine still burned deep, but that wasn't the worst of it.
Oh no, the worst came later, when he and Slippery Syl decided they weren't done with Knox. They had themselves a little plan—cut a rope here, shove a half-orc there. Real nice and quiet-like. Except... Knox didn't die. Just fell, hit the deck, got right back up with a look in his eye that said, I'll be back for you. And, worse, the oaf was immediately healed by both Sushi and Sandara. Clear where their loyalties lie.
And now? Now Narwhal was sitting in the shadows, rubbing his bruised ribs and thinking. He knew he’d have to be smarter next time. Maybe a little patience, maybe a little more subtlety. Knox wouldn’t fall for the same trick twice, but Narwhal wasn’t done yet. Oh no.
"Next time, big man," he muttered to himself, spitting over the side of the ship. "Next time, you ain't gettin' back up."
Day 7: The Hunt Begins – As Told by Batrachus
Today be a good day. Not no rope-haulin', not no scrubbin’ decks—just huntin'. That’s the way of things, aye? That’s the way it ought to be. They say, “Go out an’ fetch crabs,” like it be some dull work. Ha! Work? No, this be the hunt. Food means life. Life means power. And power? It belongs to them what takes it. Glory to Gogunta, she who fills the bellies of the strong and leaves the weak for the muck.
They gave us barrels to haul back the catch, but no boats—not even a scrap of wood. "Swim," they said. "Swim or drown." Just like home in the swamp. Only difference is, here it’s salt instead of muck, and sharks instead of crocs. Me and Knox, we took the weak ones—Sushi and Flynn—tied ‘em up to the barrels, and dragged 'em along like a couple of fattened frogs on a festival day.
Knox, he swims with strength, cuts through the water like he owns it. A proper hunter, if he’d just let himself enjoy it. But me? I swam with purpose, with glory, every stroke a prayer to Gogunta.
The Reef Shows Its Teeth
First, we had to get there, fight the waves and the weight of them we towed. I kept thinkin’—if one of them slipped under, what then? Would it be okay to let 'em go? Maybe just a little? But no, not yet. Not ‘til I know the rules better. The Wyrmwood be full of strange ways—can’t gut a man without someone shoutin', but the sea? She’s always hungry, and no one blames the tide for takin' what’s weak.
Then, out there on the reef, it was just us and the hunt. I saw it first—the reefclaw. Big, mean, and foolish enough to think itself the apex here. I grinned wide, feeling the hunt stir in my gut. I lashed out with my spear, feelin’ the crunch of shell and the burst of blood in the water. Yes. Gogunta watches. She sees me. She smiles.
Knox, nearby, was tanglin’ with his own reefclaw, hacking it down with that great sword of his. He’s strong, aye, but he fights like he’s still bound by rules—focused, steady, no joy in it. Where’s the hunger, Knox? Where’s the glory?
And then there was that sneaky archer fish, spittin’ at me like it thought it could outwit me. Fool. I drove my spear true and took it down, feeling its life slip away in my hands. That’s how it should be—take what’s yours, leave nothin’ behind.
The Odd Ones
Flynn, she did her part, I s’pose. Called on that dark magic of hers and dropped a giant shrew with a whisper and a glare. She don’t fight fair, but I respect it. Death is death, no matter how it comes. But I wonder—what else does she whisper to in the dark?
And Sushi? He’s got no sense for the hunt. He floundered about, mutterin' about balance and fairness, but there ain’t no fairness in the water. You fight, you take, or you end up in some belly. That’s the way. Maybe one day he’ll learn it.
Taur’Thalian swam fine, singin’ to himself like always, but it don’t make no sense to me. What good’s a song when the reefclaw’s at your throat? He’s got his own way of huntin’, though—words instead of spears. The crew listens to him, and that’s its own kind of power. Might be worth watchin'.
The Return and the Future
Haulin’ the barrels back was easy after the fight. Me and Knox dragged Sushi and Flynn like they was sacks of swamp mud, and Adolfo and Taur’Thalian swam on their own, carryin' their prize. Back on deck, the crew laughed, slapped our backs, drank their rum—but they didn’t get it.
Today wasn’t just about crabs. It was about strength. It was about who survives.
I know it now—the Wyrmwood is just another swamp. The crew? Another tribe. The rules might be different, but the truth stays the same:
The strong rise. The weak get eaten.
And me? I ain’t gettin’ eaten.
Day 8: Riaris Krine's Log: The Grappling Hook Disaster
Some days, you look at a crew and see the makings of greatness. Other days, you just see a lot of wet, flailing bodies and wonder how they’re still breathing. Yesterday? Yesterday was one of the latter.
I took the new recruits out in the rowboats for a simple boarding exercise—throw a grappling hook, climb up, don’t drown. Shouldn’t be that hard, right? Well, turns out, for some of ‘em, it’s damn near impossible.
Adolfo’s Grand Entrance
Adolfo, cocky bastard that he is, made it look easy. His hook flew up on the first try, catching the rail like it had been waiting for him all along. He climbed up slick as an eel, twisting and dodging the trash the crew above was lobbing down at us. Rotten fish guts, moldy bread, and something I’m pretty sure was an old boot—but he danced around it all with a grin. Made it to the deck without breaking a sweat and even had the nerve to bow like some fancy noble. If the lad weren’t so damn good, I’d be annoyed.
Knox’s Sinking Fortunes
Now Knox, he’s got strength to spare, but Besmara’s teeth, does he have a temper. His first throw missed completely, and when it splashed into the sea, I swear I saw steam coming out of his ears. The second throw found its mark, and he climbed up like a man with something to prove. But then—Batrachus. That frog-faced devil lashed his tongue around Knox’s leg and yanked him right off the rope. Splash! Down they both went, Knox cursing the whole way down while Batrachus just blinked like it was all a grand misunderstanding.
Knox made it up eventually, dripping wet and muttering murder under his breath, but he got there.
Taur’Thalian's Steady Climb
Taur’Thalian, now there’s a lad who knows how to keep his head. He threw his hook true and climbed up with a steady rhythm, humming some tune under his breath like it was all a pleasant little jaunt. I’ll give him credit—his voice keeps the crew from losing their minds, and his cool head’s worth gold in a storm. Made it to the deck without trouble, and I swear he barely broke a sweat. I’d wager he’ll do just fine in the long run.
Flynn and Sushi’s Watery Ordeal
And then there were Flynn and Sushi. Oh, where do I even start? Flynn’s got spirit, but the poor girl couldn’t catch a break. Every time she got a grip on the rope, she slid right off again, splashing down into the drink like a stone. I must’ve pulled her out at least half a dozen times before she even made it a foot off the boat.
And Sushi? If perseverance counted for something, he’d be captain already, but the lad just couldn’t get his hands to hold. Between the two of them, I was starting to think they’d be better off as deck-swabbers for life. I tried, I really did—hauled ‘em both out of the water more times than I can count, but at some point, even my patience has limits.
Enough's Enough
After watching them both fall into the sea for what felt like the hundredth time, I finally had to throw up my hands and call it. "Enough!" I yelled, dripping and exhausted myself. "Get back in the boats before ye drown in yer own failure!"
Flynn looked ready to argue, but one glare from me shut her up fast. Sushi just sighed and sat down in the boat like a man who'd made peace with his watery fate.
Lessons Learned
They’ll get better. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Adolfo’s got skill, Knox has drive, Taur’Thalian’s got heart, and Batrachus—well, he’s got that infernal tongue. As for Flynn and Sushi… they’ve got a long way to go. But I'll be damned if I don’t get ‘em there, one way or another.
For now, though? I need a drink.
Day 9: The Great Adolfo's Finest Hour
Ah, Day 9 on the Wyrnwood... another chapter in the grand epic of The Great Adolfo. There are those who stumble through life like blind beggars, and then there are men like me—swift of hand, sharp of mind, and, dare I say, blessed by fate itself. And today? Today was a masterwork of my talents, woven effortlessly into the tapestry of survival and success.
The Empress of the Waves. The wreck loomed before us, rotting and half-swallowed by the sea, its decks creaking like an old woman’s bones. A lesser man might have seen a ghost ship waiting to swallow him whole—but I saw opportunity. Treasure, mystery, and, most importantly, a chance to shine.
With a flick of my wrist and a grin that could charm the devil, I led the boarding. The others followed, of course—Knox, ever the grumbling mountain of muscle; Taur’Thalian, humming some bard’s nonsense; Flynn, a shadow of dark whispers; Batrachus, a hungry predator; and Sushi, our ever-dutiful cook, bless his earnest soul.
The deck was clear, swept of anything of value. Of course, the true booty lay within, beyond locked doors and secret stairs. We hide the things of greatest value, thus, the harder the search, the finer the prize. Below! I cried, and below we went.
The Spider Horde and the Alchemist’s Bounty
Deep in the tangled mess of the ship’s hold, we stumbled upon a nest of skittering horrors—spiders the size of my head and more of them than I cared to count. Flynn and Knox made short work of one of them with bursts of torchfire and flickers of dark energy, but credit where credit is due—Sushi had the foresight to gather vials of acid earlier in our trek, and oh, how they burned! The little man’s got a keen eye for useful things.
The Frog and the Fish
Deeper we delved, and it was then that Batrachus, ever the reckless one, found himself in the most precarious of predicaments. Rotten, dead crew lurched from the waters to scar him most brutally. Our slimy companion might well have been lost to the depths of the wreck, but ever-steady Sushi was ready with healing hands. His generosity is not flashy, but it is potent, and the frog lived to croak another day.
Treasure and Triumph
And then, my finest stroke of genius for the day—while the others prattled on about their finds and kills, I stumbled across a bag of rubies. Gleaming, rich, and far too valuable to be tossed in with the rest of the plunder. Did I share my good fortune? Oh, come now—a magician never reveals all his tricks. With a practiced sleight of hand, they found a new home under my hat, where only I would know their worth. After all, a little insurance never hurts when sailing with thieves and cutthroats.
A Flash of Steel and a Swift Escape
There was that half-orc in the totem-filled room—big, ugly, and, sadly, too slow. Batrachus and I put an end to her before she even had a chance to swing. One moment she was there, the next, well... she wasn't. Efficiency, my dear reader. Efficiency and style.
Taur’Thalian claimed a mighty blow against a monstrous spider, and I admit, it was impressive... for him. The bard can swing steel well enough when he's not too busy wooing the crew with his songs. And Flynn? She showed her strength in darker ways, commanding one of the undead we stumbled upon with eerie ease. A useful trick, if an unsettling one.
The Grand Escape
A leviathan! Something began to crack through the deepest hold of the ship. The Great Adolfo was, of course, curious, but he also needed to ensure the safety of his friends. As the wreck groaned and shuddered, it was clear it wouldn’t hold much longer. "Time to go, mates!" I called, ever the voice of reason amid the chaos, and we made our way topside, our pockets heavier and our skins (mostly) intact.
The Captain, in a flashy show (which, I must admit, I deeply admired) dove from the sky deep under the breaking ship, to confirm the presence of a Kraken!
Back on the Wyrmwood, the Captain was thrilled with our presentation of magical sails. Knox, the fool, spoke to him yet again. Fool me twice, and all that. Three lashes for the muscle-mountain. So excited was the Captain with the sails, that he neglected all the remaining booty. We left, our pockets quietly bulging. All in all, a fine day’s work.
Reflections at Sea
Now, as I sit on deck, sipping the last of my rum ration, I think about today’s successes. Sushi proved himself invaluable—gathering acid, saving Batrachus from an early grave, and all without much fuss. Knox, always dependable, but predictable. Taur’Thalian, charming but too soft-hearted. Flynn? I’ll keep an eye on her and her dark powers. And Batrachus... well, he’s a wild one, but wild things can be tamed or turned to purpose.
As for me? The Great Adolfo shines brighter than ever. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.
The Coins of Fate – As Seen by Phoebe Flynn
Flynn turned the small, glinting coin over in her pale fingers, the flickering light from the shattered ship’s sinking hull casting eerie shadows across its surface. Her face—her face—stared back at her from the worn metal, an unsettling reflection frozen in an expression of grim determination. The others held similar tokens, each bearing their own likeness, each minted with the uncanny precision of something far too deliberate, far too… knowing.
“What dark hand made these?” she muttered, voice like a whisper from beyond the veil, cold and even, like the creeping tide of the grave.
It wasn’t natural.
Magic coursed through the coins, subtle yet undeniable—tendrils of energy that slithered through the fabric of reality like whispers in the dark. Flynn could feel it under her skin, a pulse, a presence. Some of the others found strength in them, yet when she held hers, she felt… watched. Judged.
A boon? A blessing? Or a trap cleverly laid, baited with the illusion of power? Flynn had dabbled too long in the arts of death to trust gifts freely given, and the sea, much like the grave, was never generous without price. Things like these didn’t simply exist. They had purpose, intent. Someone, somewhere, wanted them to have these coins—wanted them to hold their own faces in their hands and wonder.
Flynn closed her fingers around the coin, pressing it to her palm, feeling the chill seep into her bones.
Could it be that their faces were stamped upon these pieces long before they stepped foot on the Empress of the Waves? Were they always meant to find them? A creeping thought, like ivy, wound its way into her mind:
What if the coins had found them instead?
She watched Batrachus eye his with an odd reverence, Knox tucking his away with pragmatic confidence, and Adolfo—Adolfo with his roguish grin, as if he'd pocketed destiny itself. Flynn knew better. The unknown always had teeth.
Their purpose remained an enigma. Were they a blessing of the dark seas? A token of some old, forgotten god’s amusement? Or worse... a claim, a mark that they now belonged to something far greater than themselves?
Flynn tucked the coin into the folds of her robes, close to her heart, and whispered a soft incantation—a ward, a silent prayer to Hanspur, the god of the drowning.
Perhaps it was a gift.
Perhaps it was a curse.
Either way, she would be ready when it came time to pay.
End of Session Summary: Master Scourge's Reflections: Weighing the Threat of the Press-Ganged Upstarts
Scourge leaned against the railing of the Wyrmwood, his eyes narrowed as he watched the press-ganged wretches scramble about their duties. He idly ran his fingers over the cat-o’-nine-tails hanging from his belt, lips curling in a sneer. They thought they were clever, these greenhorns. They thought they were winning the crew over. And that? That made them dangerous.
The Allies They’ve Amassed
Scourge spat over the side and scowled. First, there was Sandara Quinn. The wench was always a thorn in his side, a real stickler for that damned pirate’s code. Worse, she had a soft spot for that flashy bastard Adolfo, who thought he was some kind of swashbuckling hero. The way she stood up for the lot of them grated on Scourge’s nerves—he’d need to remind her who really runs this ship.
Then there was Rosie Cusswell, that pint-sized firecracker. She’d always been a tough one, but now she was chummy with Adolfo and had taken a liking to Taur’Thalian’s infernal singing. Rosie was the sort who’d swing a belaying pin first and ask questions never, and the fact that she sucker-punched Fipps and Aretta in the taint didn’t sit well with him. She could stir up real trouble if left unchecked.
And let’s not forget Bonnie Blades, the knife-throwing lass. Taur’Thalian had promised her some future access to blades, and the fool had bought it. Scourge hated that—the crew was supposed to fear him and Plugg, not trust some bard with a silver tongue.
Barefoot Samms Toppin and Ratline Rattsberger, they’d been won over too. Taur’Thalian and Elara had them eating out of their hands. Samms was all talk about fishing and wouldn’t last long under pressure, but Ratline? He was a competent sailor. And competent sailors could be dangerous in the wrong hands.
And then, of course, there was Cut-Throat Grok, the quartermaster. She used to be Scourge’s problem, always grumbling about the job. Now? Taur’Thalian’s tales had warmed her up, and she’d gone soft. Grok liked them too much, and it meant they could get their hands on things they had no business having.
And then, the worst of it—Owlbear Harshorn. That big, simple brute had been his to torment, but Batrachus? The slimy little frog-man had shown him kindness in that boxing match, and now Owlbear wagged his tongue at their heels like a dog waiting for scraps.
The Uncertains – Still Up for Grabs
Scourge’s grip tightened on the rail as he considered the ones still sitting on the fence. Jack Scrimshaw was a skittish thing—first to see the dire rats, and Sushi had earned a few points with him by getting him a knife, but Elara’s charm had pushed him away. He could go either way. Then there was Tilly Brackett, warming up to Adolfo and his endless supply of rum. Artful Roger, too, had started to respect Adolfo after their little duel. That was dangerous. Respect on a ship like this could spread like rot.
Breaker Bones, now that one was trouble in the making. Knox and Taur’Thalian had been wearing him down, bit by bit. The man was too stubborn to bend easily, but Adolfo covering for him and Taur’Thalian’s constant prattle had started shifting things. Scourge had punished him plenty, and the fool still had the gall to throw grog in his face.
And of course, there were the officers. Caulky Tarroon, Peppery Longfarthing, Riaris Krine, and Habbly Quarme. Not that they cared much for the daily power plays below deck, but their neutrality meant they weren’t as useful to Scourge as he’d like.
The Enemies – The Rightful Order of Things
A smug grin tugged at Scourge’s lips when he thought of the ones firmly under his thumb. Fipps Chumlett, Slippery Syl, Aretta Bansion, Jaundiced Jape, and Narwhal Tate—a fine group of muscle, loyal to the lash and the promise of favor from Plugg. Sure, Fipps had been humiliated when Adolfo and Knox stole his gear—and his pants—but he wasn’t about to forgive and forget. That anger would be useful when the time came.
Crimson Cog, now there was a nasty piece of work. Always fighting, always stirring trouble. The man had been put off by Phoebe’s strange gods and had a temper to match his loyalty to Scourge and Plugg. A useful blunt instrument, if nothing else.
Even Maheen, one of the riggers, had seen sense and taken Scourge’s side after Taur’Thalian and Knox tried to sweet-talk him.
The Plan Moving Forward
Scourge scratched his chin, thinking it over. The press-ganged whelps were getting too comfortable, winning over too many hearts and minds. They had friends, they had resources, and worse—they had ideas. Ideas that a ship could run on something other than fear. That wouldn’t do. No, it wouldn’t do at all.
Knox was a problem—strong, cunning, and too disciplined for a man his size. If left unchecked, he could rally the others and run this ship better than Plugg ever could. Taur’Thalian, with his damned songs and charisma, was another thorn in his side. Men liked him too much, and that made him dangerous. And Adolfo? Well, Adolfo had charm, skill, and just enough arrogance to think he could take Scourge's place someday.
He’d have to break them. Bit by bit. Maybe push them too hard, wear them down with punishments, set them against each other. And if an accident happened in the rigging, well... the seas were unforgiving.
Scourge smirked and turned away from the deck, cracking his knuckles. "They think they're winning," he muttered under his breath, "but the ship always belongs to the strong. And I ain't done yet."
| drsparnum |
Party after session 2:
Taur'Thalian Sigtrygrrson: L2 Half-elf skald (Dragon skald)
Sushi: L1 Tengu druid (shark-shaman) of Hei Feng
Batrachus: L1 Boggard brawler/L1 Hunter (wild child)
Elara Variel: L1 Human witch (fey-touched hexer)
The Great Adolfo: L1 Human swashbuckler (Inspired blade)
Lawrence "Hard" Knox: L2 Half-orc ranger (Divine tracker)
Phoebe Flynn: L2 Human cleric (Undead lord)
| drsparnum |
Session 3...
The Bilge Betrayal:
The moment Adolfo was assigned to bilge duty alone, suspicion flared in his gut like a warning bell. Knox caught his eye from across the deck, his own expression dark with concern. It was too convenient—everyone else had been placed topside, either on deck or high in the rigging. And then, as if to confirm their fears, Mr. Plugg sneered, "No weapons belowdecks, Adolfo."
Knox, always quick, stepped forward. "I’ll hold your rapier for you."
Adolfo hesitated, then shook his head. "I’ll put it in my locker." A weapon in Knox’s hands meant safety, but a missing weapon could be questioned. Instead, he slipped a dagger into his clothing, hidden from sight. A precaution.
When the bilge hatch slammed shut above him, the true nature of his assignment became clear. Fipps Chumlett and Crimson Cogward were already waiting in the murky water, grinning like sharks. And, they had knives.
"Wrong place at the wrong time, Adolfo," Crimson taunted, drawing his blade.
Adolfo didn’t wait. He moved.
A feint to the left, a twist to the right—his acrobatics carried him between them as their blades sliced empty air. He leapt for the ladder, hands finding purchase as he climbed with all the speed of a man whose life depended on it. Fipps lunged, catching Adolfo’s foot, but he reacted instantly—slamming his heel into Fipps' face with a sickening crack.
Adolfo vaulted out of the bilge, skidding onto the deck and bellowing across the ship: "Charlatans! Murderers! They're breaking the Code!"
High above, Knox heard him. His head snapped toward the commotion, eyes narrowing. He didn’t hesitate. "The Code is broken!" he roared to the rest of the crew.
With practiced speed, Knox slid down the rigging like a striking serpent, hit the deck, and dived through the cargo hatch, landing just outside the bilge hatch—right as Adolfo slammed it shut.
"Open it!" Knox barked, reaching for the handle.
Instead, Adolfo yanked out his hidden dagger and wedged it into the hatch, barring it from opening.
"Damn it, Adolfo!" Knox growled, fury sparking. "Let me in so I can gut them!"
Before the argument could escalate, Batrachus hit the deck with a heavy thud, frog-leaping next to the bilge hatch. Behind him, the rest of the crew hurried below, drawn by the chaos.
Adolfo finally relented, yanking his dagger free and throwing the hatch open.
Knox dropped down first, greatsword flashing in the dim light. His blade crashed into Fipps, knocking the brute unconscious in one brutal swing. Fipps collapsed onto Crimson, crushing him beneath his bulk.
Batrachus followed, leaping down with all his amphibian might—only to slip on the filth and blood, crashing hard into the bilge.
Adolfo, ever opportunistic, used the moment to sneak his dagger against his own clothing, tearing a small hole in his shirt and armor. When the officers arrived, it would be best if he looked the part of a victim.
The inevitable arrival of Mr. Plugg and Master Scourge ended the chaos, their voices cutting through the air like whips. "That’s enough! Stop this at once!"
The fight was over, but Knox and Batrachus weren’t finished. They loomed over Crimson, their gazes dark with purpose.
Knox leaned in first, voice low and sharp. "You’re either with us, or you’re fish bait."
Batrachus grinned, his wide mouth filled with teeth. "Or I could eat you myself."
Crimson, pale and trembling, swallowed hard and nodded. "I’m with you."
That night, as the ship settled, Adolfo regaled the crew with the tale of his daring escape, weaving words like a master storyteller. His version of the events painted him as the lone, outnumbered rogue, fighting against treachery with only his wits. Knox and Taur’Thalion, seizing the moment, finally broke through to Breaker Bones. The once-hostile crewman smirked, shaking his head at their antics—but for the first time, he laughed with them, not at them.
The tides were shifting.
The Storming of the Man’s Promise
From the Perspective of Adolfo
The salty wind howled between the ships as the Wyrmwood closed the gap on the Man’s Promise. The orders were clear: grapple over, clear the sterncastle, take the wheel, and prevent escape. And it fell to Adolfo to lead the charge.
Knox had already begun raining arrows into the enemy’s ranks, his shots precise as ever. Two sailors crumpled, lifeless, and another toppled overboard. Enara’s spell took hold of a fourth, sending them slumping to the deck in unnatural slumber. Taur’Thalion, never one to miss a beat, fired his crossbow, the bolt embedding itself deep into the woodwork near the enemy helmsman.
Adolfo, already moving, climbed into the rigging, intending to swing heroically across to the enemy ship. Just as he reached the highest point of his arc, two enemy crossbow bolts struck him squarely in the chest. The pain stole his breath, and the next moment, he was plummeting—hard—onto the Wyrmwood’s deck. The world tilted. Darkness threatened to take him.
Then, a cool wave of healing magic snapped him back to life.
Sushi’s magic coursed through him, mending torn flesh, and Adolfo gasped as breath flooded his lungs once more. There was no time for gratitude; the assault was on.
The Leap to War
Batrachus made the first leap, vaulting across the gap and landing with a crash, his club sending an enemy sprawling. Knox, ever efficient, shot another crewman dead before Phoebe threw the boarding grapple, securing their passage.
Adolfo clenched his teeth and leapt across, blade drawn, landing lightly and rolling to his feet. Behind him, Taur’Thalion followed, his voice lifting in a fierce battle hymn that sent adrenaline surging through their veins. The sterncastle had to be cleared.
The fight was swift and brutal. Elara's hexes flew, Sushi's ice shards skewered. Phoebe radiated death across the deck. They tore through the defenders, cutting them down as they scrambled to protect the helm. Just then, Captain Harrigan charged across the deck toward the lower levels, intent on carving his own path. But an unseen enemy moved to intercept him.
Batrachus saw it first. He flung himself onto the would-be assassin, crushing him beneath his weight. Harrigan gave a curt nod before disappearing below. Their position was secured—but the battle was far from over.
Death From Above
They barely had time to breathe before a halfling sniper appeared, raining death from above. Adolfo caught sight of Knox, their minds moving in unison. No words were needed.
They leapt into the rigging. Knox from one side, Adolfo from the other. Their blades struck home in unison, and the sniper let out a strangled cry before toppling from his perch.
But their triumph was short-lived.
From the chaos below, a woman emerged, wielding a wicked, elongated spear. With a terrible, twisting motion, she skewered Batrachus through the heart. The big Bullywug let out a choked sound, eyes wide with surprise, and then—he fell.
For a moment, all sound ceased. Then, rage boiled over.
Blood and Vengeance
Phoebe squared off against two enemies. With a word and a look she struck the fear of death into one, and fended off the other. Elara dodged and hexed while Taur'Thalion dropped another enemy with a blow from his axe. Adolfo and Knox swung down from the rigging, their fury lending them speed. They weaved and dodged through the enemies - seeking advantage, ever circling. Knox struck first. With a brutal slash, he cut the spearwoman down as she leapt for a lifeboat, her blood staining the deck.
The crew, still stunned by Batrachus’ fall, found their second wind. Taur’Thalion led the charge, his voice carrying them forward, and together, they swept through the remaining enemy sailors, cutting them down one by one.
It wasn’t until the battle ended that they noticed Sushi had fallen. Phoebe rushed to his side, her magic pulling him back from the brink.
Victory and Resurrection
Below deck, the echoes of battle faded. Explosions and the clash of steel gave way to silence. Then, Captain Harrigan emerged, blood dripping from his blade, holding a still-beating heart in his hand.
The fight was over. The Man’s Promise was theirs.
And yet, their victory was marred by loss. They gathered around Batrachus’ fallen form, his lifeless body an undeniable weight in their triumph.
Among the spoils of war, they found gold, potions, and a magical cutlass. But none of it mattered more than what they decided next.
Adolfo, bloodied but standing, looked to the others. "We trade the cutlass for a scroll. We bring him back."
No one hesitated. Batrachus would return.
Knox’s Ascension: The Claiming of the Man’s Promise
The day aboard Man’s Promise was grueling. No breaks. No rest. Just endless toil under Plug and Scourge’s cruel command. We all knew it—if we didn’t act soon, they’d work us to the bone and dump our corpses in the sea when we were too weak to fight back. Mutiny wasn’t a question anymore. It was an inevitability.
We were locked belowdecks, exhausted, but the moment the hatch shut, I turned to Adolfo. He already knew what was coming. “It has to be now.”
We debated, but we both knew the truth. We had one shot.
Sandara cut through our hesitation like a blade through soft belly. “We should have attacked four hours ago. Let’s go!”
But then Adolfo tensed. “Wait. Where’s Syl?”
Slippery Syl was gone.
"We go now," I growled, and that was it. No more debating. Action.
Batrachus and Taur’Thalion fell on Narwhal Taint, silencing him in an instant. No alarms. No warning. Just cold, brutal efficiency. Meanwhile, Adolfo yanked open the secret trapdoor we had found the night before, and we were moving.
The Battle for the Ship
We barely made it into the Captain’s Quarters when the alarm was raised. “They’re coming up! Into the Cap’n’s cabin!”
No more surprise. Only blood.
Adolfo was first out. The moment the doors flung open, a blistering storm of arrows, bolts, and axes rained down on him.
And then we saw something new—he raised a shimmering arcane shield. Magic. I’d known the clever bastard for weeks, and he’d never once breathed a word of it. Yet here he was, deflecting a lethal barrage like it was nothing.
But he wasn’t untouchable. Two bolts struck home, and he bled onto the deck.
Chained beside the door, Owlbear bellowed, "Free Owlbear. I fight!"
Even wounded and under fire, Adolfo moved with that effortless grace. Click. Click. The chains fell, and Owlbear surged to his feet.
Then it was my turn.
I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t think. I acted.
I burst through the doors, my greatsword already swinging. All the anger, all the fury, all the pent-up rage from the last two weeks—focused into a single, perfect cut.
One of Plug’s loyalists barely had time to scream before I cleaved her in half.
"Who’s next?" I roared, my voice cutting through the chaos.
The Tide Turns
Taur’Thalion arrived, his battle hymn ringing in our ears.
From below, Elara hexed one enemy after another, sending them stumbling.
Sushi conjured a massive centipede, its monstrous form throwing itself into the fray. He followed it with icicles from his feathered hands.
And then came Scourge.
His whip lashed out, his cutlass gleamed, and he dodged through the battle like a snake in the reeds. He struck at Owlbear, snarling orders like he could still command this ship.
He was dead wrong.
With a roar, I surged through the chaos, my greatsword lifted high. Taur’Thalion’s song drove me forward.
Scourge turned, but he was too slow. My blade came down and took his head and shoulder in one massive swing. Blood spattered across the deck.
Scourge was gone.
The Final Clash
That left Plug.
The treacherous bastard stepped forward, his cutlass raised. Then he pointed it at me, and a torrent of water shot out, nearly blasting me off the ship.
Badger leapt into the fray, spear in hand, and showed us why she had survived so long.
She skewered Owlbear, Taur’Thalion, and even Sandara as she tried to heal Adolfo. Her speed was terrifying.
Artful Roger danced through the battlefield, his rapier flashing. He disarmed Taur’Thalion with a flick of his wrist, sending his weapon spinning across the deck.
The battle was turning against us.
Then Batrachus stormed from the Captain’s Quarters.
His greatclub smashed into Artful Roger’s skull, sending the prancing bastard sprawling.
Breaker Bones burst through the rear hatch, his waraxe cleaving through one enemy while his shield slammed into another. I knew that tough bastard would be worth the work.
From below, Phoebe sent Crimson Cog running in terror.
The fight was on a knife’s edge.
The End of Plug
I didn’t care about the others. Not anymore. There was only one target that mattered.
I pushed forward, ignoring the pain as Badger’s spear tore through my side.
I wanted Plug. The f~$&er who allowed such s@#& discipline - who failed so completely to lead.
He was dueling Batrachus, his cutlass flashing in wide, practiced arcs.
He was strong.
He was skilled.
He was... distracted.
With a growl, I brought my greatsword down in a single, earth-shattering arc. Plug barely had time to turn—
I cleaved him in two.
Blood splattered across the deck. His body crumpled.
I lifted my sword high and roared for all to hear.
"Surrender, or die!"
Weapons clattered to the deck.
The ship was mine.
The Man’s Promise belonged to Captain Knox. All that remained was for everyone else to realize it.
| drsparnum |
Party after session 3:
Taur'Thalian Sigtrygrrson: L2 Half-elf skald (Dragon skald)
Sushi: L2 Tengu druid (shark-shaman) of Hei Feng
Batrachus: L1 Boggard brawler/L1 Hunter (wild child)
Elara Variel: L2 Human witch (fey-touched hexer)
The Great Adolfo: L1 Human swashbuckler (Inspired blade)
Lawrence "Hard" Knox: L3 Half-orc ranger (Divine tracker)
Phoebe Flynn: L2 Human cleric (Undead lord)
| drsparnum |
Session 4: Bonewrack Isle. From Elara Variel's perspective...
It's Rova 23 I think, I'm trying to keep track because the sooner I find Vance, the sooner I can find my love and so far I have hardly any leads. I need to get to busy port and get some information. For now, I'm hoping I get to learn more about these new powers I have. This team is resourceful and that can only help.
I do wish I was back in Port Peril with my love and partaking in the Swallowtail Festival with everyone, but for now I will just focus on my mission.
We are heading towards Kraken's Cove to get our ship squibbed. I've heard great things about this place and this crew is talented, we just need to get there and keep out of Harrigan's pursuit. So far, we've been on the right track. Captain Knox and Ship Surgeon Sushi confirmed we are taking the best approach, but we are heading into some foul weather. Well it feels a little weird to call them by these new titles since I haven't known them very long, but they seem very capable of these jobs. I'm going to help the crew prepare for the worst.
I noticed that Batrachus was talking to Jack Scrimshaw. Jack is a mystery to me. He doesn't seem to light up when he sees me like most people do. I must get him to see me for the true me. He will love me just like everyone else.
It's been a rough day or should I say days? Is it Rova 26 now?
My new friend Phoebe is coming into her role as lookout! She actually spotted a brigantine ship in the distance ahead of us. I didn't recognize the flag, but Knox wanted us to gun down it's sails. It wasn't a bad idea, and we are fast! The crew really came together, Sushi altered winds, I kept us moving at a fast clip, and Captain Knox was keeping us all motivated to do our best. Batrachus manned the guns and with me rocking the boat and increased gust from Sushi, we were able to get one of their sails down! It was quite exciting.
We were able to secure two barrels of cinnamon (1 plundar!) from the Gilded Serpant which will go towards the squibbing of our ship. Unfortunately, no one on that ship knew anything about Vance. I will keep searching!
Sushi and Captain Knox spotted something in the water near the Gilded Serpant and Batrachus swam down effortlessly to check it out.
Turned out to be 3 barrels of some black/blueish flecks. Smelled like blood, but we think it's worth 3 plundar so that will come in handy later. Strange thing was that they were chained down, so those scallywags on the Gilden Serpent were keeping this from us. Soon noone will be keeping things like this from us.
We had to prepare for the storm, but a strange creature was on our mast. It was looking right at me and it was so frustrating because I couldn't understand what the hell it was saying. Something like "sul-varesh-zephereth" I can't stop thinking about it. Wimp ran away and didn't give us a chance to capture him.
Not a minute later, and right as we were in the storm we got attacked by a creature I can't say I was familiar with, called a grindylow. Boy am I an expert in them now. Little jerks kept talking about bringing others to their "mother" and then we found that Rosie and Mustafa were missing. It was terrible, but we got rid of the ones on the boat. We thought about where these grindylows could have taken our crew members. Then it was just one thing after another. I have never encountered so many difficulties in one day before, but I guess that's the price I pay to find Vance for the hag.
Right after we came out of the storm we realized we were slightly off course, and we were about to adjust when we heard and felt a loud bang under the ship's hull. We were ok, but our boat was damaged after scraping against a large coral reef. And looking around as the sun came up, we realized we were at a small island. Batrachus identified the issue with the ship and, I was surprised that something that could barely speak coherently was able to pinpoint the damage in the bilges, and determine how to fix it with such skill. The crew agreed and our team set off for the island we had in front of us. It looked swampy and mountainous all at once, but we knew we had to check it out because our last barrel of water had gotten destroyed in the mishap. Captain Knox realized that we actually had marooned on Bonerack Isle. I shudder at the thought of it now, and what we all have been through. Before we set off, the crew felt the need to throw us some of their most prized possessions to help us with our mission of finding water. We got the feeling we might be seeing some mosquitos when Batrachus was handed a swarmsuit and vermin repellant.
We set off down a trail where Sushi and Cap. Knox saw human and hippo footprints, and then an actual baby hippo came walking up to Batrachus. He seemed to really like us and Batrachus insisted it was a sign from his God, so we let him come with us. I thought he was pretty cute and matched my hair, so I liked the idea. Turns out those things pack a mean bite and can sure carry their weight in loot.
Batrachus also found an old map in a washed up bottle. I tucked it away for later, but if we pass Lurching Mountain or Raugsmauda's Reach, we might have to see if this old Captain Bellbrey still exists.
This was just the beginning. We had to get across an old decrepit bridge and get around some type of sludge that seemed to suck things in, but all that while also fighting off two large frogs that believe it or not, didn't look a thing like Batrachus. More frog type things who knew? They were not friendly and they were taken out quickly. Batrachus got us across the bog one by one.
Even though on the trail, we were swarmed by some gross mosquitos but we realized the alchemist fires our friends gave us were very handy for killing them. Phoebe also seemed to have a knack with the swarm and I felt very comforted by that. So far, this island seemed like nightmare.
We tried to stay on the trail and eventually found a clearing with a large treehouse looking thing in the center. Seemed perfectly normal, but then three gray people walked out - they were actually not alive, but they were moving and talking and in the "mood" - it was very weird. I was happy to try to give them the Evil Eye, but then Phoebe said this weird stuff and all of a sudden one of them really liked Phoebe and apparently became her best friend. We actually learned all about where the water was. Unfortunately, it was behind a stockade. Captain Knox had a great plan to draw out whatever was behind the stockade. We learned that there was another Captain back there (Captain Aaron Ivy) so rather than try to break in, we thought I could draw him out. Seemed perfectly reasonable to me! I tried my best, but I didn't get any response and actually the entrance to the stockade was wide open, so I figured maybe the guy was out hunting or something. I could see the water and it looked awesome. Unfortunately, what happened next was a blur. My life flashed before my eyes as well as two gross plant-looking things who tangled me up and depleted all my energy. When I woke up they were gone and Sushi was by my side with a potion bottle in his hand. I knew in that moment these people were really my friends and I would risk my life for them again if it came to it. We still needed water, but there was an old dilapidated building we needed to investigate since we never found Aaron Ivy.
I decided to stay back with the hippo, who Batrachus named Eubols and honestly I need to come up with a nickname for him because he's too cute for that name which sounds like I have to spit out some seaweed every time I say it. Maybe I'll call him BB.
Anyway, the brave Captain Knox, Phoebe, and Batrachus went storming into the building and seemed to get ravaged by another swarm of bugs - it was different but just as scary. I also then found out that inside the building was a dead but not dead Captain Aaron Ivy. Luckily team clubs, axes, and swords took care of that scary house.
There was a spyglass set up and Batrachus took a look - just as some predicted it was pointed at a particular spot where more of those grindylows were playing around and they looked like they had the Rosie and Mustafa's stuff. The Captain felt we should rescue our crew and we agreed, but not until after we took a rest inside of the stockade.
It was a glorious rest and I could have sworn that our friend Tarthalian was with us, but I think it was just a dream... speaking of dreams I do remember part of my dream, it was of city underwater that is apparently called Hyrantum, my friends told me. It seemed so cold and scary. I sure miss my bed in Port Peril. But we had to press on, we had gotten water from the natural spring, but our crew did not.
We made our way to their cave in the middle of the night and it was not easy. I started to get more and more worried if we were going to get our crew back. More thoughts started entering my head because I really can't swim that well and it looked like the entrance was through the water. I made an air bubble around my head and had to try out the swimming thing. I think I could get better at this, but it was very very slow. What happened next was like watching a slow motion tragedy.
We started off strong with Batrachus quickly taking out a couple of grindylows (yes we were in the right place, but where were our friends) but then the cave was so windy and some of the water was pretty deep. Luckily Captain Knox was able to carry me for the hard times and that really helped. We found two lacedons, I think someone called them, under a grate; Batrachus and Knox skillfully took them out through that iron grate! It was successful, and we got some loot out of it, so ends justify the means I guess. We also fought something called stirges. Bird/bat like things and they seemed to make folks extra tired when they actually got a bite off. Can't be good. We were not in good shape though and quickly running out of healing.
We then came upon a huge monster with tentacles and a large gaping mouth. This seemed like it could maybe be the mother they were talking about. Maybe our friends were nearby. It was hard to stay in the water and also stay out of attack range. The group ended up taking it out, but not before Sushi was laid bare and had the life sucked out of him. Now it was my turn to help my friend. I slowly made my way over to him. Meanwhile 10 grindylows and more stirges came in for the attack. We held them off from a small patch of dry land and I was able to get the potion down Sushi's throat. He didn't dare move but he strategically attacked from his spot while Knox, Phoebe Batrachus held off all of the things coming at us. I tried to reason with them, but the grindylows only kept attacking and saying mother was still in danger. I also tried a sleep tactic, but only a couple succumbed to this spell. I'll remember that for the future. Unfortunately, Sushi was not so fortunate to be able to avoid the barrage of attacks and I saw him breathe what I thought was his last breath. While we knew Phoebe could take out the entire group with one channel, we couldn't risk hurting ourselves in the process, so Batrachus and Knox and BB continued their pummeling until the last grindylow was finally vaporized.
In the aftermath, we found a huge jawbone with a spell written on it. Phoebe read the spell successfully and Sushi was with us once again. I was happy to continue on with our full team, but was torn between wanting to leave and wanting to find this "mother". They also spoke of a "whale" and we weren't sure what that would entail.
After wandering around for a while we realized we were actually right next to where the "mother" was hiding all along. She did have our crew! She released them to drown in the water with two lacedons poised to attack. They were weighed down, so they splashed into the water right in front of us and began sinking immediately. Once again, not really sure if we were up for this task, we somehow felt compelled to at least try and began moving on the "whale." I hexed that ugly whale guy and then Batrachus and BB made quick work of him. Mother seemed to have started casting a spell, but Phoebe was able to draw some positive energy to her and it was just enough to disrupt her spell! Batrachus was able to get in and kill her. Meanwhile, Captain Knox and Sushi were making their way down to the bottom to rescue our crew from the lacedons. Phoebe then someone wooed one of the lacedons, but not before the other lacedon had tore into and killed Mustafa. The friendly lacedon then piled on the other one with Knox and we were able to set Rosie free. She was alive!
At least all of this was not for nothing, but I was positively exhausted in the aftermath of everything. I really would just like to have some calm seas as we head towards Kraken's Cove.
| drsparnum |
Party after session 4:
Taur'Thalian Sigtrygrrson: L2 Half-elf skald (Dragon skald)
Sushi: L2 Tengu druid (shark-shaman) of Hei Feng
Batrachus: L1 Boggard brawler (wild child)/L2 Hunter
Elara Variel: L2 Human witch (fey-touched hexer)
The Great Adolfo: L1 Human swashbuckler (Inspired blade)
Lawrence "Hard" Knox: L3 Half-orc ranger (Divine tracker)
Phoebe Flynn: L3 Human cleric (Undead lord)\
Current crew: 7 PCs, 6 Rhadoumi led by Akhmed, Sandara, Rosie, Samms, Ratline, Jack, Giffer, Conchobar, Bones, Kroop, Owlbear, Cog, Roger, Medlar: 26
| drsparnum |
In this session my player's take on Kraken's Cove from the Savage Tide adventure Bullywug's Gambit. I have 7 players and they're higher level than recommended for this adventure, so I did two things to make it more challenging. I had them arrive to ship's in the water and a beach littered with kindling. On the far side of the beach were valuables. 3 ballista, 1 catapult, and 2 plunder worth of lumber (the latter more than enough to squib a ship). Each round I rolled for the wind giving the fire a chance to advance through the kindling towards these valuables littering the battlemat. The kindling could be cleared too, blocking the path for the fire to spread. Simultaneously, the party fought the abominations from Kraken's Cove, and I had them come out in waves with a new set of baddies from rooms increasingly deep in the cove coming out each round. It worked perfectly.
Session 5 Notes
Sushi’ – Fire, Salt, and Water
We should have found a quiet cove and idle docks.
Instead, a black column of smoke rose into the sky, curling like a funeral banner. Even before we could see the beach, Captain Knox barked orders—rig for combat. Load the ballistae. Crew ready at sails.
The Isendrak rounded the reef with caution, and there it was: bodies scattered across the sand, and fire dancing on the water’s surface. Whale oil. Sabotage. And yet…
Ballistae. Teak. Siege-grade timber. Crates of equipment. The beach was a battlefield littered with salvage, too valuable to leave behind.
Knox’s voice cut through the wind. “Boats in the water! Get that gear!”
I dove first, body changing mid-leap. My shark form cut through the surf, slicing under the waves toward the beach.
Batrachus was beside me, unafraid. He swam beneath the flames—through the fire—and emerged further down the shore, ready to defend the second pile of teak.
I slipped past barrels and wreckage, and that is when I saw them. Twisted sailors, crouched and waiting, blades glinting like serpent teeth. I turned to warn the others.
Too late.
They struck with fury. Adolfo was the closest, and cutlasses rang off his parrying rapier, even as one heavy blow broke through his defense. I broke the surface and reached him, restoring his breath with a prayer and a palm to his chest. He recovered, and with a flare of style, struck back.
Knox stepped into the fray like a falling mountain. His blade carved arcs of red through pirate flesh.
From down the beach came the roar of Batrachus, distant but unrelenting, his voice echoing over the surf. “Eubels! Left flank! Good boy! Now the one with the crooked jaw! GOOD BOY!”
The hippo barreled through surf and sand, crushing a pirate’s skull in his jaws, as Batrachus bellowed his approval from a hundred feet away.
Still the pirates fought on. Wounded beyond survival, they refused to fall. Ferocity, they called it. Madness, I thought.
We formed a line. Taur’Thalion’s voice rose in song. Phoebe darkened the air with hexes. Elara cursed their steps. I struck with fang, frost, and fury.
Together, we held.
Batrachus cleared the kindling, preserving the timber. The fires hissed at our heels. But we kept them at bay.
Until the roar.
From the cave came a raptor, teeth gleaming, a nightmare given form. It charged into Knox and nearly killed him. Phoebe raced to his side, calling power from the dark to keep him standing.
The tide shifted.
And I knew: we could not fight the fires and the foes. Not both.
I summoned water. A spirit of the tide, elemental and cold. Then a second. I whispered instructions—save the timber. Shield the ship’s future. Let the warriors fight.
Elara hexed. Phoebe lashed out. Adolfo danced around the raptor’s legs, laughing and cutting. Knox struck blow after blow.
And then Taur’Thalion climbed the ballista.
He sighted the beast, sang a note that made even the flames pause—and fired.
The bolt split the raptor’s spine. It collapsed. And yet another wave of frenzied pirates exploded from the cave. Weakened and exhausted, we fought on.
Then she came—a pirate woman, cutting into the backs of the twisted sailors. She shouted names, her own allegiance uncertain.
Knox straightened, bloodied and grim.
“Legitimate salvage!” he roared. The beach was claimed.
Batrachus, bloodied and savage, crashed into the flank, ending what little resistance remained even as he bled out his lifeblood
I turned, summoned one final spell of frost to protect Phoebe—and felt the blade.
As I fell, the world dimmed. Heat and steel faded. I saw movement above me—Adolfo, blades drawn, straddling my body like a shield, refusing to retreat.
All sound blurred.
And I heard it—faint, but proud.
“Good boy, Eubels!”
A warrior does not choose his last words. But these would do.
After the battle we spoke with the pirate woman. Harliss Jarvell, the bold, beauty with raven-black hair. She started out ready to fight us if needed, but mostly wanted answers. She grew frustrated when she realized we had less answers than her. She then got some things off her chest. She explained, through yelling and cussing, blame for the whole situation fell at the feet of Vanthus Quinn. He’d come to buy wares, but in the process tried to rob Harliss of a magical pearl. Harliss stabbed Vanthus, he dropped the pearl, and it cracked like an egg and some of Vanthus blood spattered on the pearl. Then the pearl boiled and a flash of light followed and a green gas spewed from it. After that many on the beach deformed and turned to cannibalistic rage. That damnable pearl turned over three score men into man-eating freaks. Vanthus fled, and Harliss fled into the caves and holed up in the chamber of Captain Kiganted, the keeper of Kraken’s Cove. On the beach we also found Vanthus journal. Seems the cur planned the robbery for months with his lass.
We also found a katana that seemed to call to me, and a shrine of Gozreh that may have called as well. The next day a plum tree omen washed ashore.
Taur'Thalion – In the Wake of Battle, the Whispering Caves
The sea mist had barely settled, and our wounds were still singing, when we turned from the blood-slick beach toward the shadowed caves of Kraken’s Cove.
We found feral halflings in cages, their minds snapped like sun-warped deck boards. They snarled and gibbered—no language left, only hunger. It was Batrachus and Knox who ended their torment. A quick clubbing, no pleasure in it.
We moved deeper.
Phoebe, ever at ease in gloom, led the way. Her little crabs skittered ahead like scouts. Sushi walked with ghost-silent steps. Elara whispered to the cave walls, listening for secrets.
Supplies lay stacked, unburned and untouched—barrels of pitch, crates of fittings, rigging soaked in brine. Kraken Cove’s final breath sealed in these walls.
Then we found it.
A chest carved with swirling knots. Within—a flute of bone and silver, its reed cracked but not broken. When I touched it, it hummed—a whisper of music in my skull. But incomplete. One piece of three. The Legend.
A decade ago the piratical trio Warvil Lanteri, Zara “Stormeyes” and Dahoath il Rahil Harkalm banded together to ply the waters of the Arcadian Ocean. Together they slew the great brine dragon Nicorydine and discovered in her hoard a magical instrument rumored to be the key to accessing the legendary treasure of Jemma Redclaw.
Jemma Redclaw! A generation ago, this fearless captain, then known as Jemma Redblade operated her flagship Fearsome Tide from a secret hideaway. From there she attacked as she wished. Her fame and influence spread. She became overconfident and assaulted Bloodcove with a single ship. Badly defeated, she lost her arm but somehow survived with most of her crew intact. She dismissed her crew and sailed off alone in her captain’s gig. She returned one year later with an enormous clockwork arm of red metal and wielding an exquisite pistol. She recruited a new crew and became famous once again as Jemma Redclaw.
The claw? She told various inconsistent stories. It was custom built in Alkenstar. She stumbled across it in Numeria. She stole it from the Red Redoubt of Karamass outside Absalom. Her reputation grew. She robbed Krakens. Extorted dragons. Rumors abounded that she planned to overthrow the Hurricane King and crown herself. Then she disappeared. Rumors varied. Did she sail into Abendego just to prove she could, or did she challenge the Hurricane King and fall to his blade? Regardless she naught been heard of since.
The trio split the instrument into 3 pieces and agreed whoever lived longest would inherit all of what they came to call “Three Reasons to Live.” From then on, the captains worked together occasionally, but mostly stayed apart after that to limit the temptation to speed one another’s demise. We found one piece. What of the other two?
Elara ran her fingers along the flute fragment. "This wasn’t meant to be hidden forever."
No. It was meant to be played.
And I would see it whole.
Another wonderful find in the Cove. A map. A map of the Shackles. A rare find as Kerdak Bonefist would prefer none exist.
Phoebe - Post-Battle Celebrations
That night, the flames on the water had died, but new ones flickered at our feet.
We made camp just above the high tide line. Kroop served cardamom tea, apricots and dates spread out on a salvaged sail. By midday, we had eaten chickpea-stuffed bread and drank from the spring Sushi had blessed. In the evening, Tangier-spiced camel meat roasted over the coals.
It should have felt like a feast. It did.
Conchobar wandered the camp, prestidigitating mugs of tea into iced comfort. Beer flowed freely from the kegs found aboard the Man’s Promise. Someone rigged a table from plank and pulley.
Laughter began.
Bones joked that Taur'Thalion didn't inspire men, he compelled them. Cog mimed Batrachus' hippo orders with perfect absurdity—"Good boy! Take the left! Crush the ribs! GOOD BOY!"
Even I cracked a smile as my crabs, clicking contentedly, nestled near the fire.
I sat apart, as I often do, but Giffer joined me. She offered me more piercings—"To remind you that you survived." I declined. For now.
Knox passed through the camp like a wandering ghost. He spoke to each of us, offered thanks, asked nothing. When he sat, others followed. When he stood, they quieted. I watched this. Not with envy—but with understanding.
He held the weight of our survival like a coin pressed to his tongue.
And I saw it then, in that flickering firelight:
We had not just survived. We had become.
A crew forged in smoke and salt, in blade and bone.
And still—
Knox kept the fire, but never warmed his hands by it.
Not yet.
But we would thaw him.
One vow at a time.
Adolfo – The Birth of Isendrak
Ah, my sweet darling. She was hideous when we stole her. Clumsy lines, heavy in the stern, her rigging a knotted mess of neglect. A ship with promise, yes—but a woman needs more than promise to make a proper entrance into legend.
And so, under the blistering sun and the suspicious gaze of our Captain, I set to work. This was no simple refit. This was resurrection.
We stripped her down to her bones. The crew hauled away rotted planks and sagging fittings. I measured twice, cut once, and then—just to annoy Knox—measured again. The Captain stood at my shoulder every hour, arms crossed, eyes like a crow at a banquet.
"That’s not true cedar," he’d grumble.
"It is teak," I’d reply, "cut from Kraken’s Cove itself. She deserves no less."
He checked every bolt. Every seam. Every rivet. And I loved him for it.
Because while he watched like a hawk, I created.
I called in the muscle: Batrachus, who can drive a nail with his thumb alone (though he prefers to use his forehead, the lunatic), and Sushi, precise as a surgeon and twice as quiet. Sushi may have had some important role in the squibbing. Who could say? We laid in new beams. We reinforced the deck to hold her new weapons. We burned off the old name and painted the hull in black and steel-grey, accented in blood red.
And then, her weapons.
Three new ballistae—one fore, two aft—mounted with clever pivots. A turret catapult installed middeck, reinforced to withstand recoil and the weight of her wrath. A full complement of weapons now.
We repainted the sails, cut her lines to better catch the wind, rebalanced her trim, and laid new decking stained with oil and smoke.
But it was the figurehead—ah, the figurehead—that made her.
From the cave, among the wreck and bones, we hauled a great reptilian skull, long as a man is tall, with curved horns and steel-fused jawbones. We mounted it on her prow, iron bolts and resin binding it to her keel.
She became something else in that moment.
Not a ship.
A dragon.
Knox stood beside me as we finished. He did not smile. He rarely does.
But he said, "She’ll cut the sea in half."
And that, my friends, is a poet’s praise.
We christened her Isendrak—the Iron Drake – ending the remaining debate about her name. Free Captain Merrill Pegsworthy performed the christening himself, as we had met him a few days earlier when he arrived at Kraken’s Cove to do his own squibbing, and we bonded with the former Eagle Knight.
And when we left Kraken’s Cove, it was not with a stolen vessel, patched and limping.
It was with a beast reborn.
A creature of war.
A ship worthy of song.
And I—well—I am already composing the chorus.
Taur’Thalion – The Song of Flame and Iron
Gather close, ye who’ve braved the salt and storm. Pour the ale, strike the drum, and let the rigging sway—for I shall sing of the Battle of the Burning Wind, when the Isendrak—our Iron Drake—tested her teeth.
It began with a glimmer on the horizon.
Phoebe, sharp-eyed atop the mast, shouted, “Sail!”
Knox, ever the storm-anchored heart of our crew, turned to Elara at the helm. “Run her down,” he said, voice flat as steel drawn before battle.
And we did.
Elara’s hands gripped the wheel like a lover. She spun the Isendrak across the wind, sails snapping full. She rode like a beast unchained—low in the water, hungry for speed.
Adolfo, curse his ego, ran the deck like a maestro. “Loosen the stays! Reel in the leeches! I want every knot this lovely beast can bleed!”
And she bled speed.
We gained the weather gauge—the high ground of the sea. The enemy ship loomed ahead, hull smeared with soot, sails stitched with flame-runes. A war-wizard’s ship. They called her the Scorching Ray. Captained by two brothers. Drow wizards known as The Scorching Rays. Punks.
“She casts fire,” Kroop warned.
Knox grunted. “Then we stay at arm’s reach and beat her to kindling.”
And so we danced.
Phoebe called wind to our sails. Sushi, cold and calculating, manned the ballista. I took my own, Batrachus on the catapult, grumbling about why we couldn’t just leap aboard and end it quick.
Adolfo squeezed the last inch from the rigging, calculating angles, weight, wind. He loaded the turret catapult himself—twice the size of a man, and somehow still beneath him.
“Let’s give them Adolfo's Hello,” he whispered.
Our first volley loosed.
Wood screamed. Flame blossomed from their decks. The Scorching Ray returned fire—ballista bolts arcing through the sky. One crashed near our bow—too near—but Elara turned us on a dime, and we slid past like silk across steel.
Knox barked targets.
“Midships! Reload! Don’t waste the wind I gave you!”
Sushi struck true—a bolt through their rudder shield.
Batrachus hooted as his catapult struck true.
I sang. Oh, I sang.
Not for courage, but for memory—so this moment would not be lost. A thunder hymn, a war-song laced with the names of each of us. Let the waves remember. Let the gulls sing it to the dead.
The Isendrak spun. We crossed their bow. Adolfo lit a flaming bolt and we unloaded all three of our port-side ballistae, and our catapult —into their forward hold.
It exploded with a scream like boiling bone.
The enemy faltered. Their sails sagged.
Knox roared. “Surrender, or we'll strip the flesh from your bones!”
We didn’t need to.
They surrendered.
Floating wreckage marked the site. We gathered the last of their cargo—one final plunder, enough to burst our stores.
The sea was quiet, then.
Too quiet.
And so I sang.
Of fire on water. Of steel on spell. Of a ship born again in battle.
The Isendrak had drawn blood.
She was no longer just ours.
She was her own self now.
And she would want more.
We took the crew of The Scorching Ray, but put the Scorching Rays to the sword. They didn't look trustworthy.
Later that day we encountered a ship breached just above the waterline and taking on water. We boarded to investigate and were ambushed my sahaugin waiting below decks. We defeated the sahuagin with little difficulty, and claimed a valuable necklace of deep platinum.
Later that evening we encountered the nereid Sirella. She lay aboard a rock jutting just above the waves. She beckoned the crew, and all with a twig and berries headed her call jumping directly overboard or boarding the ship’s boat. Elara negotiated, and Sirella took renewed interest somehow sensing a destiny or ancestry about Elara. Sirella backed down asking only for Taur Thalien to spend the evening with her alone, and that he’d be returned unharmed in the morning. Elara still refused. Sirella released Taur Thalien from her thrall and asked him his preference, confidenently expecting affirmation from Taur Thalien. Taur Thalien refused. Sirella let the ship go. She didn’t seem accustomed to rejection.
Notes:
Party after session 5:
Taur'Thalian Sigtrygrrson: L3 Half-elf skald (Dragon skald)
Sushi: L4 Tengu druid (shark-shaman) of Hei Feng
Batrachus: L1 Boggard brawler (wild child)/L3 Hunter
Elara Variel: L4 Human witch (fey-touched hexer)
The Great Adolfo: L3 Human swashbuckler (Inspired blade)
Lawrence "Hard" Knox: L4 Half-orc ranger (Divine tracker)
Phoebe Flynn: L4 Human cleric (Undead lord)
Rova 27: Sail to Kraken Cove and fight the battle of the beach
Rova 28: Explore Kraken’s Cove, battle moray eels, start squibbing the ship
Rova 29: Amphisbanea attack and Captain Merril Pegsworthy arrives.
Rova 30: Squibb
Lamashan 1: Squibb
Lamashan 2: Squibb
Lamashan 3: Squibb
Lamashan 4: Squibb
Lamashan 5: Squibb
Lamashan 6: Depart Kraken’s Cove. Encounter sinking ship and battle sauhaugin ambush, defeat the Scorching Rays about The Scorching Ray. Encounter Nereid Sirella. Expectation: If you sail through the night you’ll reach Rickety Squibb’s tomorrow.
Crew:
Sworn Loyal:
Artful Roger
Breaker Bones (must be hit twice in one ship combat to die)
Conchobahar Shortstone
Badger Medlar
Rosie Cuswell
Sandara Quinn (can revive 1 defeated crew at the end of ship combat)
Ambrose Kroop (1 in 10 chance can save a plunder of expenses when arriving at a port)
Jack Scrimshaw
Ratline Rattsberger (+3 ship officer checks [vs normal +2] when acting as an NPC officer)
Owlbear Hartshorn
Crimson “Cog” Cogward
Giffer Tibbs
Barefoot Samms Toppin
Aboard:
Ahmed
Baaka (can attempt carpentry aid another roles with +2)
4 additional unnamed Rhadoumi sailors
10 unnamed sailors from The Scorching Ray
Harliss Javell
Total crew with PCs: 37
| drsparnum |
Session 6 - where I take my players on a detour through the Dungeon magazine adventure Tammeraught's Fate. Spoilers abound. In this one, the player of Sushi chose to do the write-up from Owlbear's perspective....
Owlbear's Lament; or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Child Servants
No one ever really come see Owlbear ever since the frog man gave me that big, good hug. The officers all go off on adventures, but do they think to invite old Owlbear? No! Never. So now I just sit here, being all big and tough, and hard to kill. They decided they don't even need to protect me during ship engagements! They think these cutlass wounds just heal themselves. Well, Knox has been sick for at least a week, and since the youngin' Scrimshaw died, there's a new cutie in town. Ol' Owlbear. I even started carving a new bone that I got off one of them brine zombies.
Owlbear's journaling is interrupted for a brief moment as Kroop drops off a young, brown-haired, goat-smelling boy. "Uhhh, Owlbear. The officers of the Isendrek recruited a new child servant - this one's named Mardus Siggs. Can you get him up to speed?"
Owlbear looks forlornly at the young ward, knowing his short time as ship cutie had come to an end. "Come sit on Owlbear's lap and I'll tell you all about the Isendrek, and how to win the favor of the crew."
He begins...
Lamashan 6
The crew had just disentangled themselves from the clutches of an alluring nereid, when a pleasant night fell, and the ship sailed cleanly over the waves towards Rickety Squibs. It was known at this point that there were just enough bad-mouthy ne'er-do-wells on the ship who wanted their way off at port. That happens sometimes, you see Mardus. The officers Taur'thalian, The Great Adolfo, and Elara Variel decided it was time to lay on their charms, and fast. Elara talked to the Scorching Ray crew, and won over Randy Dandy, Dolly, Sam Bass, and Chris Gethard. Harless Javell, the former captain of Kraken's Cove, said she would only stay on if she could be captain. With ol' Knox sick in bed, the officers of the Isendrek thought about it for a brief moment, but they told her no thanks.
Elara then decided to talk up those atheists from the Man's Promise. Everyone and their mother knew Ahmed was maybe the most handsome man in the Shackles, and Elara tried to play to his vanity, but like most atheists, he only cared about his family and children. No pirate in that man.
Lamashan 7
The next day, the Isendrek sailed into Rickety Squibbs harbor and the officers met Rickety Hake. Elara tried to find out what was worth buying, but Hake put a quick stop to that. He was only interested in selling what the captain had requested! Must have sent a bird, the old Knox! The crew also bought barding for Eubels and some wands that will come in handy later, Mardus. Oh, and Mardus, it's always worth buying wands with fewer charges, even if they up-charge you.
As we were to spend a day in port, refitting the new canvas sails, the talkative triad of Taur'thalian, Elara, and Adolfo headed to the bar to recruit more crew members. Taur'thalian somehow wound up talking to some of his kith and kin from the Northlands. Fluhtred, Guitard, and Songer all joined, although Songer and Taur had a tense moment of reconnection as they were old eskimo brothers. Do you know what that is Mardus? It's like when two goats both like the same goat. Make sense? Oh, and Songer's name back then was Skinny Thor, but don't call him that. I don't remember exactly, but the chiefs up in those northern villages don't like inter-racial relationships, and that's why they all left. Before we set sail, Baka from the Man's Promise, a handsome man - but not nearly as handsome as Ahmed - decided to swear the oath of Isendrek as well.
Lamashan 8
The Isendrek left the harbor of Rickety Squibbs and sailed towards Tidewater Rock. Adolfo recalled quite a lot of information about the island and relayed what he knew to the crew. It was once the haven of Magnus Stomeyes - its natural harbor and proximity to Senghor made it a great tool of piracy. He built the castle and built a fleet, and eventually became the first Hurricane King. Did Agasta ever tell you this story Mardus? This is where your goats live. Anyway, Stormeyes was assassinated in Port Peril and the place changed hands over the years. Bertram Smythee was the most recent captain to take over the place. And then he was betrayed by Captain Harrigan, although I think the two of them both nearly lost their fleets in the Eye of Abendengo in the process. Ever since then, your old charge Agasta has been there, watching over the keep, without much protection. That's I guess how come the crew found you.
As we approached Tidewater Rock that night, we did spot an old whaler that disappeared over the horizon.
Lamashan 9
A school of hippocampi swam by that morning and it brought a tear to my old eye. And then another to my young eye. That evening a thick fog rolled in, and we could hear a rusted ship's bell. We know the Death Knell is near and see it silently sail by us.
Lamashan 10
A nor'easter swept up this day, m'boy. Sweeping across the Fever Sea, we could see the spittle of white crested waves bashing against the hull. That interminable bell began to ring. And then it appeared, almost out of nowhere. THE DEATH KNELL. It put us to our paces in ship combat, and Elara as pilot tried her best to maneuver the ship as Phoebe tried to keep an eye on that terrible ship. Batrachus and Sushi could barely get the ballista and catapults fired before the damn thing sailed under the water and was on top of us within ten minutes. The entire crew jumped to battle positions as the zombies of Captain Whalebone Pilk invaded our deck. Elara blinded the zombies with a glitterdust, but Pilk saw right through it. Batrachus' spear went through a zombie as Taur'thalian's voice broke like the waves themselves on the tired beach of our souls, reinvigorating us just enough. Phoebe threw out a bless, as Eubels, and Snick and Snack, Flynn's dastardly zombie crabs attacked from all sides. Eubels killed one of the zombies, but they took down at least five of our crew that round. Phoebe wrested control of one of the zombies from Pilk, as Sushi's summoned ant and lightning cloud began to lay into Pilk. Adolfo struck Pilk a dangerous blow, along with Snick and Snack. Eubels charged across a gang plank as Batrachus leapt, and the rest of the zombies, and eventually Pilk go down.
Pilk's bell, let out a shrill ring, and Batrachus, Eubels, and Adolfo attack the bell to end Pilk's magic, as the rest of the officers begin to heal up the wounded crew. Sadly, we lost six to the zombies that day. Jack Scrimshaw - he was the child slave, er, servant, before you - Dolly, Artful Rodger, Chris Gethard, Barefoot Samms, and Chumley. Thankfully Sandara was able to save Barefoot Samms.
Oh, and Mardus, you might want to remember this most of all, but Batrachus shared with all of us that he had a dream that night where his demon harbinger asked him to save his seed.
Lamashan 11
We approached Tidewater Rock, where the officers parlayed with Agasta Smythee and her first officer Royster. She agreed as long as Knox was held imprisoned in her brig. We agreed and went to get lunch. The officers introduced themselves to Royster and looked around the keep. They met Clew making grilled cheese, as well as your grandparents Albers and Birney Siggs. The lunch was an impressive orange, shrimp and soup spread, along with the grilled cheese I heard. Great goat herding, m'boy! Agasta agreed to let the Isendrek crew act as her eyes and ears and increase the infamy of her position in a mutually beneficial way, (to be honest, the ins and outs of this kind of political piracy bores old Owlbear) but only under the condition that Captain Knox agree to a Shackles Wedding once the Isendrek has built enough infamy.
Lamashan 12
Because of the build up of barnacles on the hull of the Isendrek, the entire crew went to work on scraping. At the same time, the officers learned a lot more about their maps and identifying places to build infamy and gain treasure. The pearl that destroyed Kraken's Cove, may have been created at the Isle of Dread, and more locations were added to the map. It was a hard day, and I think spirits were beginning to sour on the Isendrek, although it seemed like the officers were having a fine time.
Lamashan 13
Batrachus had been itching ever since we got to the island to look for suitable swampy areas, to either spread, or hold, or edge his seed. Is this too R-rated for you Mardus. You understand goats, right? Goats do it, frog men do it, etc. etc. Anyway, on this day Batrachus and the officers were all walking along the beach towards his swampy area on the island, when they came across a bloated body being attacked by harpies. The officers all buff up while the harpies are distracted, and then approach. A bullseye shot by Taur'thalian knocks a wasp nest to the ground right next to the harpies and the fight begins! Batrachus leaps towards the flying harpies as thunderclouds, undead crabs, parried strikes and hexes are tossed at the foes. The harpies retreat and the officers run into the ocean to hide from the wasps until they fly away. The body left by the harpies is brought to Agasta who identifies it as Philbert from Firewatch Island, one of the few islands that still does trade with Tidewater Rock. She tells the party of a monastery dedicated to Groetus there, and of the yard-long beans they grow. She has Ulder Rasterhill row the party over to the island.
Ulder began to unload his wares when the bells of the monastery began to ring and the party witnessed a creature called a peryton fly up to the belfry before the sounding ended. Inside the monastery they find a tower dedicated to making beer, but decide to check out a side door. The side door leads to a rickety bridge, so the party decided to look at the pond. The pond contained sea hags. That be the pirate's life, Mardus! The sea hags put up quite a fight, but the officers get them to relent quickly and offer no quarter to the old crones. Batrachus and Sushi spent some time repairing the rickety bridge, and the rest of the monastery is slowly explored. It was a scene of gore and viscera, m;boy! They opened a door into the side room that smelled of more offal and death! And then the bricks. Bricked up rooms everywhere. It was too much to bear.
In a meditation room, swarms of rats attacked the party, but the frog-man and Eubels, along with Adolfo took them down swiftly. Snick, Snack and the team finished up the second set of rat swarms coming from around the corner. In the kitchen, the party found a hidden larder and basement where a voice shouted "shhuushhh" and told the party not to come down. Outside the party finds a boat filled with bodies and a large chuul jumped out of the waters and nearly squeezed poor Eubels to death. Taur sang as the melee crew laid into the Chuul, with Adolfo parrying some of its tentacley attacks. All this commotion alerted the perception of the peryton, who flew down and stole Phoebe's shadow. Elara's hex saved the crew from most of its attacks, and Batrachus ended its life.
In the larder, a group of people led by Janore Duskwane ask for help. She had been trying to heal her friends of the disease they got from these drowned creatures, but she wasn't sure it was working. Old Frog Man said they should just kill em all, (like when you have to take out the diseased goats) but Phoebe and the rest objected. Maybe they could spend watches and tie up the infected just in case. That matter was never solved though, as the rest of the monastery had to be cleared in case of more attacks that night, and Ulder had already left with the boat.
In the library upstairs, the crew fought two snakes valiantly. And Snack, the crab I loved most, died to one of the snakes. In the belfry, Sushi's bird eyes discovered a hatch with many treasures and a note about a cursed Chelish war ship that had crashed five miles west of the island. As they surmised that might be the source of the drowned, and a future adventure, they began to take account of their defensible positions in the monastery and resources, as they believed they would have a long night ahead of them - if not from dealing with the infected, then the possible invasion of more drowned, and whatever curse had been put on them.
Well, that's about it Mardus, get ye to bed, ya scallywag. Dream of cheese, and say a prayer to Gogunta, our Savior.
Notes:
Party after session 6:
Taur'Thalian Sigtrygrrson: L5 Half-elf skald (Dragon skald)
Sushi: L4 Tengu druid (shark-shaman) of Hei Feng
Batrachus: L1 Boggard brawler (wild child)/L3 Hunter
Elara Variel: L4 Human witch (fey-touched hexer)
The Great Adolfo: L5 Human swashbuckler (Inspired blade)
Lawrence "Hard" Knox: L4 Half-orc ranger (Divine tracker)
Phoebe Flynn: L4 Human cleric (Undead lord)
Sworn Crew:
rosie cuswell
ratline ratsburger
barefoot samms toppin
fluhtred
claw
sandra quinn
owlbear hartshorn
songer
baaka
ambrose kroop
breaker bones
conchobhat turlach shortstone
randy dandy
guitard
giffer tibbs
badger medlar
crimson cog cogward
Lamashan: 6: start session 6.
7: arrive rickety squibb. Shop. Recruit.
8: depart to twr. See deathknell in evening
9: sail to twr. See hippocampi school in day. See deathknell in evening.
10. Sail to twr. Fight deathknell at night.
11. Arrive at twr. Parley. Consider maps and charts with lady Anastasia smythee.
12. Scrape barnacles montage.
13. Find body on beach and harpies. Go to firewatch isle.
| drsparnum |
Session 7: Wherein my player's complete the Dungeon magazine adventure Tameraught's Fate, get married, and do some side treks aboard their ship....
13-14 Lamashan
“Oi. Let’s keep the key points in mind, and the key points are I don’t want diseased ghouls running around loose in this keep.”
Phoebe smiles to herself. Silly Nox - disease only affects the living. True power lies with the dead.
Phoebe’s gaze wandered around the room, her attention only half focused on the conversation amongst the crew. Fire Watch Isle had proven to be a veritable treasure trove of bodies, and the sooner she could start raising them, the more magnificent the crew of the Isendrek will become. She goes to adjust Snick’s pirate hat, which has annoyingly started to slide off the undead giant crab’s carapace again, and wonders if anyone has any really strong glue.
“I really think we just off ‘em, they’re gonna turn into something nasty if we let ‘em live. This is a stupid risk to take for people we can’t help and don’t owe nothin’” says Batrachus. Sushi appeared skeptical, and Batrachus seemed curiously defensive, like Sushi’s opinion mattered to him. The others appeared skeptical. “I’m not saying we should eat ‘em. Obviously the meat’s gone bad. Just kill them and be done with it.”…
Nox turns to regard Phoebe. “Phoebe can you tell us anything about this disease? How long do they have before they succumb?”
Phoebe continues securing Snick’s pirate hat. There is an uncomfortable pause. “Phoebe?” Satisfied with the new hat placement, for now, she looks up at Nox. “Do you have any really strong glue?”
Nox sighs deeply. “Let’s try to keep our focus on the problem at hand, lass.”
The crew continues arguing, and Phoebe wanders away, her attention caught by something in the next room of the keep. Tonight the undead would attack, and perhaps, if she was lucky, she could make some new friends.
As dusk began to edge towards evening, and the last glimmer of light disappeared from the horizon, the attack came. Mobs of zombies stumbled from the ocean and began making their way towards the keep. Sushi’s entangle spell slows several of them down, and those who make it past suddenly find themselves in the grips of the assassin vines that Sushi has befriended.
More zombies approach from the opposite side of the keep, stumbling up through the waves, precariously close to where Phoebe has stashed the huge crustacean corpse of her soon-to-be new best friend.. A low growl escapes her throat. Perhaps Sushi could direct his plant friends to engage this new threat and protect her prized possession? “Sushi look! They are coming from the other side!” she yells. Sushi, being ever valorous, moves inside towards where Phoebe is standing, overlooking the back of the keep, and suddenly freezes, his eyes going wide, as an assassin attacks from the shadows.
“Absolutely not, that is my bird-friend,” mutters Phoebe, glaring at the suddenly visible foe clinging to the wall. She casts a spell, and the assassin is frozen in place for a moment, before plunging off the side of the keep to the ground below.
Meanwhile, Nox keeps steady arrow fire on the zombies storming the front of the keep. “Great shot, lass!” he yells, as Jannor Duskway’s arrow lodges in the throat of a zombie. More zombies begin scaling the walls, but Nox’s deadly aim prevents any from reaching the top.
Inside the keep, Batrachus and Eubels stand guard at the top of the stairwell, forcing the zombies through a field of caltrops into a choke point where they are systematically reduced to zombie chunks. After taking one particularly large bite of zombie, Eubels pauses, looks confused, and suddenly starts barfing up zombie chunks all over the stairs. He turns to Batrachus, unsure of what has happened and hoping his friend can make it right. Batrachus stares helplessly at Eubels, and a wet, angry sound starts to build within his vocal sac. Deep and thick, wet and foreboding – like the deadly marshes of his home. There is a frantic blur of motion, some dull squelching sounds, and nothing remains but an undifferentiated mass of zombie chunks. Batrachus drops his harpoon and begins gently rubbing the hippo’s stomach, cooing softly – an ancient lullaby of the boggard race. There is a final explosion from both ends, some tail fanning to mark their new territory, a burp, and then Eubels wanders off, looking for new corpses to eat.
The final wave of zombies is destroyed, and with nothing left to control, Phoebe’s gaze travels to where Sushi’s body lies, unmoving, on the floor. Necromantic energy begins to swirl around her fingers as she walks slowly to the corpse, her eyes alight with focus. She kneels next to Sushi, extending her hand, imagining the joyous creation he would make – and suddenly gasps, withdrawing her hand, as Sushi’s solemn voice sounds in her mind: “Never do that to me.”
Phoebe sighed, resignation drooping her shoulders. Not everyone appreciated the majesty of her creations, and she had promised. Frowning in concentration, she read the scroll to return Sushi to life, struggling to bring forth the healing she needed. Positive energy was difficult and did not come naturally the way her necromancy did. But after failing her first attempt, she was able to restore Sushi to life. “Promise kept,” she said, as two avian eyes fluttered open to meet hers. Pheobe then scurried away to ensure that Eubels didn’t eat any bodies she had previously claimed.
Their efforts had been witnessed by a particularly wise looking (and somewhat pushy, to be honest) seagull, who was trying to lead them…somewhere. Sushi knew an omen when he saw one, and urged them to follow. Bereft of boats, their ride having long since returned to Tidewater Rock, Batrachus and Eubels swim out into the bay, following the raven. It leads them several hundred feet out to sea. Batrachus marks the spot, and gives Eubels a hard pat on his muscled flank. “Whatever lies below, it is not part of Gogunta’s unholy design. This is not a risk we need to take.” Eubels vomits up a moldy boot in agreement, and the two made their way back to the island, with plans to return with a repaired ship and full complement of crew.
Batrachus and Sushi set about magically repairing a rowboat, while Nox pressganging the cleric of Groteous while trying not to be too much of a dick about it, and then the expanded party sets off for a hopefully debarnacled Isendrek. Along the way, they are accosted by two mutated pegasi, who were swiftly dispatched.
Battle concluded, Sushi stands upon the prow of the rowboat, staring off into the middle distance, contemplating the seeming randomness of the encounter. “No known nest was discovered on either island. Where did they come from? Why were they hunting so far from their home when food is plentiful throughout the shackles? Why engage with a clearly armed and dangerous group of predators? Pegasi do not covet treasure. Perhaps there was something in the very air and water, an elemental corruption infecting the entire region, disrupting the natural balance of nature. If only….” Sushi’s musings come to an abrupt, stumbling halt as the boat rocks into motion once again.
The next day, the crew followed their helpful seagull far from shore, where they began to descend deep below the waves, towards a shipwreck that lay more than 300 feet underwater. Phoebe, wearing her fancy new helm of underwater action, suddenly finds herself swimming like a fish. Even Snick seemed impressed. As they drew closer, the ghostly skeleton of a sunken cargo ship came into view. Even underwater, Phoebe could sense a strong necromantic field, and she eagerly swam towards it. Jackpot.
“Hello my lovelies,” purred Phoebe. “Shall we play?”
Immediately the undead swarmed toward Phoebe, and just as they are about to close in, she sweeps her arms wide, commanding them to obey. One drowned sailor heeds her call, and moves in to attack his fellows alongside Snick. Batrachus, Eubels, and Nox engage the zombie swarm, while Sushi summons a manta ray to join the fray. The encounter ends almost before it could begin, and Nox looks vaguely disappointed as the three dimensional battle plans he had been developing drift away on the unseen tides shifting the sand on the ocean’s floor.
The zombie swarm handled, Phoebe turned to her new friend. “What is this place?”
“Cuuuuursed. We’ve been cursed for eternity!” yells the zombie.
Phoebe pursed her lips. Was being turned undead a curse? Or a blessing? Depends who you ask, I guess.
“How do we end the curse?” she asked.
“Slaaaaay him. You must slay our captain. Take the portal to find him. End himmmm.” The zombie gazes intently towards a glowing light within the ship’s broken hull. “Also you must bring glue. Very sticky glue.”
Prepared to meet Captain Syrgaul Tammerut, the crew entered the glowing portal, which lead to a small pocket realm. And, to Phoebe’s great pleasure, a desecrate spell enveloped the area. Surging with renewed power, she locked her gaze with the undead sea captain.
“Shall we play, captain?” Phoebe smiled as her channeled power shot out towards undead.
Turning to Phoebe, Captain Tammerut hissed “Vengeance! I swore vengeance against Firewatch Isle!”
“It seems that your vengeance must now come to an end,” replied Phoebe. “True necromantic power comes with purpose and intent. Your mindless rage does not serve you well. I suggest you use the weapon you are holding to end your existence.”
With a final whispered “Vennnnngeannnce….” Captain Tammerut stabbed himself in the chest. And just like that, the battle was over.
Gazing down at the fallen undead captain, Phoebe did not notice Sushi meticulously covering the cracked stone with the sovereign glue he had discovered until it was mostly gone.
“But Sushi! I was going to use that!” exclaimed Phoebe, despairingly.
Sushi’s bird eyes flicked towards Phoebe disapprovingly, as he continued spreading the glue. “Sometimes we must sacrifice that which we hold most dear to achieve a greater purpose.” Nodding to himself, Sushi pocketed the now empty glue vial, as Phoebe turned to look forlornly at Snick, whose jaunty pirate hat had, once again, slipped off.
15-17 Lamasahan
It was not the fastest wedding in the history of the Shackles, but little time was wasted. Nox looked resplendent in his best sleeveless vest. He particularly appreciated how its lack of sleeves highlighted the iron cordage that were his arms, and the way the it framed his abs just so when he left it stylishly unbuttoned. He was not a vain man, but he instinctively knew his angles, and understood that he had a crew full of visual learners. If he wanted to maintain his authority he had to look the part.
As he dressed, he explained the Galtian wedding tradition of committing something of value to the sea as Batrachus, his self-appointed best man, listened with rapturous attention. Batrachus loved weddings, and his limited knowledge of Golarion geography meant he would not ask why the completely land locked nation of Galt happened to have this particular seafaring tradition.
“And that sacrifice, big lad, will ensure both parties remain true to the conditions of the marriage contract.”
“What about your seed? The lady has wide birthing hips, but mammals spawn one at a time, and the gestational period may as well be an eternity. And your young are useless for years at time. This is no way to pass on your genes.”
“Aye that’s true, big lad. But the contract is silent about what happens at sea…”
Batrachus smiled at that. It was a wide, fleshy smile that took its time unfolding to its full length, stopping along the way to unpack various folds and inflate various pouches. But it seemed sincere. “Wait right here.” And Batrachus bounded out of the room, leaving Nox alone with his thoughts. In the absence of an audience, he let go of the breath he had been half holding, his chest deflating, and he allowed himself a moment of authentic doubt. Aye, it was a good crew. “Aye, it was a fine ship. Aye, it was a promising beginning. But would it be enough. So much was expected of him. And her regard could bore holes through the most armored hulls. Aye…just aye…”
As Nox navigated towards his next nautical metaphor, Batrachus returned, holding a large burlap sack in his left hand. “You’ve been a good captain, Nox. And this marriage benefits all of us. So I offer you this gift, so that you may sacrifice it in accordance with your ancient Galtian seafaring traditions, and bind not only yourself, but your entire crew to this partnership.”
Nox opened his mouth to speak and paused, genuinely moved by the gesture. He cleared his throat and blinked away, not a tear exactly, but something. “Thank you, big lad. Truly. This means a lot.” He took the bag from a beaming Batrachus, and opened it. Inside was an elaborate piece of scrimshaw, impeccably carved.
“It is a Jack Scrimshaw special. The holy symbol of the Song of the Swamp, the great Frog Mother Gogunta. May your loins be fecund, and may your every step help pave the way to her glorious return to regional prominence.”
Nox closed the bag, and forced a smile. “Aye, thanks big lad. It will serve.”
The ceremony took place on the Isendrek. Speeches were made, and vows exchanged. Not everyone was equally joyful, as Roysten, the Castellan of Tidewater Rock, pulled Nox aside and threatened vengeance if he dishonored the Smythee name. The Great Adolpho and Taur’thallian stayed sober and watched over the ship and crew, giving Nox liscense to enjoy his wedding. But Batrachus, normally not one to pass on a free indulgence, felt curiously unsettled, charged with a sensation of unknown and undefined anticipation, so present as to be almost tangible in its force. He stood on the prow of his ship, Eubels at his side. Waiting.
Suddenly, without a word, he dove into the ocean and swam towards shore. Eubels shrugged, as only a juvenile hippo can shrug, and dove in after his master. Batrachus made his way inland, towards the grotto he had previously sanctified to Gogunta. A vision awaited him. A female boggard, lying in the fetid pool, her legs splayed open, her cloaca visible, gaping, thick with ooze and inviting. It was the most beautiful thing Batrachus had ever seen. His jaw dropped. Being a boggard, this took a while.
The vision spoke. Her voice was like the buzzing of the fattest mosquito, and it glided towards him on a carpet of brackish swamp bubbles. She reeked of dank seduction. Batrachus had not drank anything, but he had never been more intoxicated. “Hello Batrachus. I am Gukka. The great Frog Mother has sent me a sign. I have come for your seed. Together we will spawn a clutch of boggards. Most will die, as the strong consume the weak. It is the way of the swamp. The way of Gogunta. But the strongest...oh the things they will accomplish.”
“Regional prominence…” Batrachus whispered
Gukka nodded. “Now, come to me.”
And he did. Eubels wandered off, granting the moment the privacy it deserved. But he would return later, to the grotto. He defecated over the eggs, and fanned his offering over the clutch of eggs. His own contribution to the glorious future to come.
18-21 Lamashan
Though some were now married, and others expecting, the pirate’s life is built on routine, and routine continued. The Ordinance of Thrune, a ship of the line from the Chellish Navy, engaged its prey a little too close Tidewater Rock, and the Isendrek ambushed and defeated the far more powerful vessel. Claw taught the crew about the Katapehsi holiday of Bastion, and there was much celebration and then much less work but really chill vibes.
And on the 21st of Lamashan, hold overflowing with plunder, the Isendrek pulled into the port of Little Oparra. New crew were added to replace those lost, and who among us could now imagine life on the Isendrek without the soft pedantry of Professor Buttcavage, the sensual scratching of Red Itch Rick, or the playful malice of Stabsy Thislewick. And the slow and steady passage of time could now be marked on the ‘days without incident board’, climbing without interruption thanks to the work of Captain Inspector Riggle Safety McGee.
On the third of Neth, the Isendrek made the acquaintance of Tarin Skyjack Modraine, he of the flying carpet and art of the deal. But his 75/25 percentage was no match for Phoebe who, with the endless patience and pure clarity that can only come from plumbing the secrets of mortality and coming out the other side, bargained him to an 85/15 split. The exploding groudiur were a nasty surprise, but not nastier than the away team of the Isendrek, and the plundered cargo of the Crimson Dawn, missing for over a decade, justified the burns (nothing that couldn’t be soothed by the refrigeration bricks given a new home onboard their ship).
Yes, it was a difficult encounter, a challenging encounter. But they managed, through a profligate use of resources. And as the afternoon sun began its slow and steady journey towards the evening horizon line Sushi found himself once again at the prow of the ship, reflecting on the seeming randomness of their encounter. “In a vast, trackless sea what were the odds we might encounter a lone wizard on his flying carpet. Still, we survived, even profited. The battle was difficult, but we will rise tomorrow, well rested and ready to take on whatever challenge the Shackles might….”
Sushi’s musings were interrupted by Solmeil, a messenger of light, representative of the heavens, sworn foe of the hydro daemon Bralzzic. And though the crew was exhausted, resources depleted, as surely the odds of encountering two separate challenges on the same random day of sailing approached zero, they accepted the angel’s offer. It was a difficult encounter, so far removed from buff o’clock as to be in an altogether different time zone. At one point Phoebe succumbed to the daemon’s dark lullaby. But before it could abscond with Phoebe, Snick somehow mustered the strength to hold the daemon firm, binding it to the deck where the rest of the crew could finish it off.
And as the evening moon began its slow and steady journey towards the dawn’s horizon line Sushi found himself once again at the prow of the ship, reflecting on the existential absurdity of two random encounters in one day. “They worship a different set of gods on this side of Golarion, and they really need to get their s@*+ together….”
24th Neth
The Isendrek pulled into Quent, holds filled to bursting with plunder, head filled to bursting with stories sure to become infamous, like a clutch of over fertilized boggard eggs destined to alter the regional balance of power.
It is said that a ship is a living, breathing thing, and each member a vital link within a complex, organic system. Interconnected through invisible but tangible ties. Should one muscle cramp, one artery block, the entire organism will collapse.
But if that living, breathing vessel has a soul, surely that soul is its captain. And as the Isendrek pulls into Quent, captain Nox finds himself standing on its prow, nudging Sushi to the side, staring off into the middle distance. He steels himself, and through him, his ship and crew. For he knew what awaited them in Quent. The greatest challenge the Isendrek had yet to face, capable of shattering its hard won integrity with a word, nay a glance.
Nox took a deep, steadying breath, turned, and prepared to greet his mother.
Party after session 7:
Taur'Thalian Sigtrygrrson: L5 Half-elf skald (Dragon skald)
Sushi: L5 Tengu druid (shark-shaman) of Hei Feng
Batrachus: L1 Boggard brawler (wild child)/L3 Hunter
Elara Variel: L4 Human witch (fey-touched hexer)
The Great Adolfo: L5 Human swashbuckler (Inspired blade)
Lawrence "Hard" Knox: L4 Half-orc ranger (Divine tracker)
Phoebe Flynn: L5 Human cleric (Undead lord)
Sworn Crew:
rosie cuswell
ratline ratsburger
barefoot samms toppin
fluhtred
claw
sandra quinn
owlbear hartshorn
songer
baaka
ambrose kroop
breaker bones
conchobhat turlach shortstone
randy dandy
guitard
giffer tibbs
badger medlar
crimson cog cogward
Professor Buttcavage
Stabsy Thistlewink
Red-itch rick
David faraget
Nome de guere
Dad murderin-Jim
Baeg McBaeg
Captain Inspector Riggle Safety McGee
| drsparnum |
Session 8: Wherein my players do the side-trek Beneath Unbroken Waves. Then they get a sending from Lady Agasta Smythee because she is nervous after a Sea Devil attack. The players defend Tidewater Rock in an island spanning, and mondomat spanning battle...
Claw is an NPC of my own design. He is a bee-person (not really a thing in pathfinder but I don't need to stat him up). He spends his springs harvesting opium fields in Katapesh and claims to grow the finest opium. He has developed an allergy to poppies though so during the planting season he has taken up a habit of doing a sabbatical in the Shackles and doing piracy. My player wrote this one from Claw's perspective as he has become a favored crew member...
Oh joyous Shackles morning! Ye mighty yawning flatulence-spewing surf and sand! I was looking forward to the days we would spend in Quent, cut loose from ship life for a few glorious weeks and rambling madly into the streets of a true pirate city! Only three weeks of quarantine to go. The bilge, and its most common inhabitant, Batrachus, were like a siren call to mine buzzing wings. He was an inveterate follower of Gogunta, and by turning the bilge into a saltmarsh paradise, he pleased his lord! I knew just the gift to give to the ship during this time. I set about collecting some bee companions who came looking to fertilize the ship surgeon's plants. This would surely please the members of the crew, to share with them my own interests and successes. What luck and auspicious wintering I would have, coyly blowing rings of opium smoke and entering ludicrous highs of existence, while making myself useful to the Isendrek, my newest home.
When the three weeks of quarantine were up, I stayed behind on the ship, carefully monitoring the bee hives being built in the corners of each deck of the ship. In the meantime, the officers strode into town. Nox came back one day with an entire cannon and collection of cannonballs, which he used to replace three ballistae. On the same day, I heard Elara mention to Adolfo that she spotted the ship of Cerise Bloodmourne, moored in the harbor. Every day the officers came back with more tales of infamy and new members of our crew. Taur'thalian was especially in bright spirits, weaving tales so beautifully and weaving language so effortlessly, that I wondered if he was part spider. He even told a bartender she must be a transmuter because she could turn gold into smiles.
Captain Nox came back to the ship telling us that he spoke to Hego Gabel, an orc captain who has run the Felhope Run more than once. A ship race that starts at the Cacophonous Shoals and winds its way through Phantom Corals, giant basalt crags called the Sister Spires, and a whirlpool called the Maiden's Gasp. He told Nox that there is a cleric dragon named Dahoq who patrols the sea as well.
Cerise met with Nox in the Lusty Mermaid and told him to say hello to Lady Agasta. Apparently they both hailed from Galt originally, coming to the Shackles on the same ship, but splitting up when Agasta met with Iron Burt. Nox promises that he intends to keep earning Agasta's regard. Elara talks to Elgin Mariss of the Arcane Duelist. He informs her that he is a pirate of pirates, and many of the officers agreed that the Isendrek should be on its guard for this scoundrel.
On Neth 21 we departed Quent, and I was sad to see it go, but I was happy to have dug into new mysterious alleyways and taverns throughout this pirate city. The officers had heard of a place on Captain Nox's map called Mr. Ripples, and we sailed over the next couple of days to arrive above an underwater prison. The entire officer corps headed down into the sea, with Sushi spreading out a water breathing spell, enabling them to take their time. Nox convinced some elementals guarding the door to let them in. Inside the prison were strange markings of Azlanti texts. Were I to have aspied them! What a glorious sight! My mind reels of the historical and psychological insights this Azlant knowledge could provide. Unfortunately, the officers were unable to make much headway into understanding them, other than knowing that the hatches on the wall probably indicated that someone had been in this prison for a VERY long time. Nox pocketed some tablets that looked to be ancient martial arts instructions, and then when the officers turned the corner, they came face to face with some kind of undead monk, and two construct creatures!
The monk seemingly gestured for some of the officers to enter the arena, but Batrachus had different plans. He motioned to Captain Nox, (with a finger across the throat) and Nox merely nodded. Combat erupted. Eubels and Batrachus attacked the same construct, and the undead monk cast a spell that emptied Batrachus' mighty frog lungs of air! The construct creatures knocked out Eubels with monk-like fury, but Adolfo returned with a critical hit. Elara provided shock damage to Adolfo's blade and a well-timed evil eye to even out the fight. Nox switches between weapons and attacks the leader, but falls to the monster. Sushi's summoned shark is destroyed and he begins stabilizing and healing the crew. Taur'thalian blessed Batrachus with a spirited heroism, which helped him beat the suffocating spell-binding. Adolfo critically hits Falehetu, the undead prisoner, and the monster is destroyed. In a chest, the party discovers the secret of "Mr. Ripples." It is actually an Azlanti relic, a mummy made to ward off scrying and divination magic around their observatories of old. Can you imagine ancient star-watching civilizations from before Earthfall!? This is their magic, made manifest on our own ship! All thanks to the heroic efforts of the officers of the Isendrek.
Returning to the ship after securing Mr. Ripples, the officers know a storm is coming. Sushi heads to the crow's nest, while Nox intimidates the crew into performing well. Adolfo goes through the ship making sure she's in tip top shape, while Elara prepares the rest of the crew with her knowledge of sailing. And Taur'thalian at the wheel maneuvers the Isendrek like thread through the eye of a needle. Lady Agasta had sent Nox a sending asking for protection at Tidewater Rock, and the Isendrek sails over the seas, through tradewinds and cresting waves, which to me at times at my pipe felt like centuries, to the reality of the crew, were mere days.
Elara shares with some members of the crew that she had a dream one night of Blue Hesmene coming to her, congratulating her on Velmara, her wolf companion, but like an Absalom bookie, she offers that it would be a shame if anything would happen to her. Blue Hesmene reminds Elara to find Vance.
Badger Medlar had been unhappy with my gift to the ship, and ratted me out to Nox. Of course the Captain, in his due diligence, came to talk things out with me, bringing along Elara. Her manner was a lot more pleasant, and I think they got the point of why I thought providing honey to the ship was a gift, sharing my own special talent with the entire crew! Adolfo, Sushi, and Batrachus all seemed to agree and tried to help me out. Adolfo was able to use his knowledge of engineering and carpentry to build a bee funnel straight from the main deck to the bilge, where they had me move all the hives. Batrachus even offered to pray for my bees. That night, Adolfo shared a drink with me, and we regaled each other with pirate tales.
On Neth 26 we arrived at Tidewater Rock. Lady Agasta asked the Isendrek to stay in the harbor for at least a week in case the sahuagin menace returned. Batrachus heads to the grotto to meet with Gukka and check on his clutch. He helped to incubate the eggs over the week. Sushi spots some solutions to a new dock that could host more ships in the lagoon, and he and Adolfo begin working on it. On Neth 28, an unmarked merchant ship is spotted, and we run it down, easily fleecing it for 3 plunder. Every night, Taur'thalian keeps watch with his elven eyes, and he speaks with Bakka who is praying to Besmara on the roof.
Elara wakes up on Neth 29 and for the first time in maybe her entire life, she has no nightmares. The crew decide that Mr. Ripples must be working somehow. On Neth 30, the sahuagin attacked at dusk during a storm. The battle raged for only a few minutes, but the Battle for Tidewater Rock would be remembered for years to come. It wasn't just sahuagin crawling over the beaches, ships, and pulling into the lagoon, but a crew of pirates, led by a tattooed woman named Isabella Locke! She flew into the battle, casting lightning bolts at the main entrance to the Rock, literally trying to crack it wide open. Nox and the archers target her and get in some good hits with the captain's magical bow. Her pirate crew begin to ram the door while Adolfo defends the western beach, single handedly taking out some of her more sneaky pirates. Elara and Taur'thalian whip us on the ship into a fighting frenzy, and we take out sea devil after sea devil, like dates in a pudding. Elara casts spells on multiple sea devils and pirates, putting them to sleep as other members of the crew kill them off. The eastern front was the most fraught with danger. Only Sushi, Batrachus and Eubels (along with the two assassin vines) held out against the brute squad of ten sahuagin. Taur'thalian eventually comes to their aid, leaping off the prow of the ship, like a hero from one of his sagas.
Locke - knowing that Nox could take her out easily with his impressive bow skills - turns invisible and begins summoning mephits of salt spray. They begin killing guards and attacking Nox on the tower of Tidewater Rock. Batrachus and Eubels are both knocked out by sea devil brutes as Sushi does his best to call down bolts of lightning and summon creatures to slow them down as he treads water effortlessly in the harbor. Taur'thalian is able to distract the sahuagin and lead them in a circle long enough for Sushi to entangle them, slowing them down just enough while Elara gets off a perfect glitterdust spell. The eastern front looks a little calmer.
However, during that time, the tower battle raged. Knox had sought out Locke with his eyes, and was able to pinpoint her location for Elara to use a glitterdust and make her appear. Locke then unloaded on Nox. Within two rounds she had blasted him with a boiling salt water geyser, and then a lightning bolt. Our captain was dead. The crew that remained on the ship's ballistae turned their ire on the flying sorceress, and shot her out of the sky. But the revenge felt cold, uninspiring. A battle of attrition raged across the shores of Tidewater Rock at this point. As the Great Adolfo and Royster fought pirates from the front and mephits from above, leading them into a deadly trap of piercing rapiers; Elara sent the crew of our ship down the docks to pin them from behind. Elara helped clear up the eastern beach as Sushi continued to summon and trick sahuagin with spells and Taur'thalian healed Batrachus and Eubels. Gukka ran over to her mate and fed him a potion as well. The sea devils and the pirates were cleaned up, but it felt like no victory at all.
The officers discussed next actions and learned a lot more about the Shackles, poring over their maps and treasures. The map, painted in ink on Locke's back, seemed to direct us towards Mancatcher's Cove. The purported spot of Cyrus Wolfe's treasure. That seemed like a place to go, especially if Locke hailed from there. We certainly had revenge to distribute. The body of our captain was brought before Phoebe, and the last casting of Raise Dead remaining on the magical piece of driftwood found in the grindylow cave, was used. Nox would return, but it felt like things had changed for the crew of the Isendrek. And with the deaths of Ratline Ratsberger, two of the Quent 21, an assassin vine, and four of Lady Agasta's guards, we hung our heads.
An apiarist is very rarely stung by his own bees, but a beehive that is disturbed by others is one on high alert. The remaining compatriots of Isabella Locke would feel the sting of the Isendrek.
Party after session 7:
Taur'Thalian Sigtrygrrson: L6 Half-elf skald (Dragon skald)
Sushi: L6 Tengu druid (shark-shaman) of Hei Feng
Batrachus: L1 Boggard brawler (wild child)/L3 Hunter
Elara Variel: L4 Human witch (fey-touched hexer)
The Great Adolfo: L5 Human swashbuckler (Inspired blade)
Lawrence "Hard" Knox: L4 Half-orc ranger (Divine tracker)
Phoebe Flynn: L5 Human cleric (Undead lord)
Sworn Crew (43 NPCs + 7 PCs =50):
rosie cuswell
barefoot samms toppin
fluhtred
claw
sandra quinn
owlbear hartshorn
songer
baaka
ambrose kroop
breaker bones
conchobhat turlach shortstone
randy dandy
guitard
giffer tibbs
badger medlar
crimson cog cogward
Professor Buttcavage
Stabsy Thistlewink
Red-itch rick
David faraget
Nome de guere
Dad murderin-Jim
Baeg McBaeg
Captain Inspector Riggle Safety McGee
The Quent 21 (reduced to 19 after 2 deaths in the defense of Tidewater Rock.
4 Tidewater Rock guards died too, and one of Sushi's two Assassin Vines.
Short-hand notes:
Lamashan 24: Arrive in Quent.
Lamashan 24-14: Quarantine in Quent
Neth 15-20: Conduct commerce in Quent for players and the ship. Recruit crew. Build infamy
Neth 21-Neth 24: Sail to Mr. Ripples. Recover Mr. Ripples. Receive sending from Tidewater Rock, ride through storm successfully.
Neth 26: Arrive at Tidewater Rock. Hang out. Start building docks. Don't attack Sargavan ship passing by.
Neth 27: Install Mr. Ripples. Claim a merchant ship.
Kuthona 1: Defend Tidewater Rock against Sea Devils + Isabella Locke.
| drsparnum |
Not sure why but my players started some post-battle role-playing over email which I am capturing here....
KNOX POST BATTLE REACTION:
As Phoebe's words fade, and the last spell carved into driftwood summons Knox back to the material plane, his body shudders, he gasps a breath; he opens his eyes.
Confusion. Awareness. Fury.
"Thank you, Bosun." Knox carefully says to Phoebe, as healing magic restores his burned and shattered body. He rises and looks around, "you are all to be commended for wotever you done to win. Report. Tell me everyfing."
The Captain listens, occasionally flexing his limbs as his wounds stitch together. His eyes bore into each speaker, taking in their words like breath.
"Very well." He rises stiffly. "Dismissed."
---
Four hours. Knox orders a sack of grain hoisted from the yardarm and empties his quiver into it. Over. And over. He orders the sack be made to sway, to fly, to pitch and rise. Over and over, his great longbow twangs, the arrows rip through the air and thud into the sack. Every miss can be read in his posture. Rage. Cold, calculating, turned inward. The workers on the dock wince every time an arrow hisses past the target. On the ship, Ratline lays a stalling arm on Elara's shoulder as she takes a step toward the Captain. He quietly shakes his head, no. Four hours. Knox shoots, the muscles in his back bunching and releasing. His left forearm bruises with the snap of the bowstring - eventually a single black patch spreads from wrist to elbow. His fingers crack and bleed. Again. Another quiver. Over. And over.
Then, suddenly, he is done. He unstrings his bow and walks toward his cabin. "Officers meetin in twenty minutes!" he bellows just before his door crashes shut.
---
"Let's start wif wot went well." Knox stands at the head of the table in his greatroom at the stern of the Isendrak. The room is spacious, but feels too close - no air, not enough room. The Captain's eyes burn. He lays his hands, the left still bloody and cracked, on the table.
"We lived. An you saw fit to bring me back. I'm roight grateful for it. A'int all crews bring back their Cap'n when they see a chance for promotion." He looks over at Taur'Thallion and Elara. "You two done well. You bolstered the crew - magicked some folks to sleep, slit their throats. Efficient-like. Well done." He looks to Ratline, "Crew done well - better 'an anyone. They stuck togever, cleared the ship, killed the mage. Proper. Extra ration o' grog all round this evening." He looks around the table. "Plenty o heroic s&&&e all round, an we're still breathin. That's worth takin some pride."
Knox draws himself up and folds his arms, leaving a red handprint on the table.
"But we lost crew wot didn't have to die, and we nearly lost the battle because we was dumb." He points to an assortment of food, tankards, and plates on the table that - upon scrutiny - clearly reflect the harbor, fortress, and ship... the battlefield.
"We wos spread out and caught by surprise. Mistake one. We should have put a chain across the harbor mouth - or a lookout - or a tripwire - sommat wut would let us know a f*+&in great skiff packed with pirates was comin in our f*#!in home port." His eyes blaze. "Dumb."
"Once s*&$e started hap'ning, we shoulda ran for da ship or da Rock. We shoulda left the vines, kid, and guard as bait, and cleared the deck sos we could bring our ballista into da foight." Knox turns his stare to Batrachus, "and, yeah, big lad, I know you got a clutch of young'uns in dat grove, but I'll ask you ta give this a think... I saw you go down, you and sweet Eubels - there's a good girl" Knox scratches the adolescent hippo, carefully squeezed under the table, behind her left ear. "Thass your favorite spot, isn't it girlie?" He looks back up. "Ahem. Point is, you almost died... for good. If we'd lost dat battle, and da Rock been taken, wouldn't none of us be breathing air today and your great quest for Gogunta? Over. Finished. An, worse, Taur had to pull from the ship to help - that cost us crew wot he was inspirin'."
Knox takes a deep breath.
"I ain't a fool. We've all got stuff- things wot are important to us - but none of it matters if we all die because we're dumb. We get caught out again like this - spread all over - first thing we do is tighten up. If we can get to da ship, we get dere, if not, we foind each other. Them's standing orders, savvy?"
Knox looks around and latches on to Adolfo, "Great foighting, lad. Truly. I thought you wus roight f!$$ed; outnumbered on dat beach. An you came to da Rock an held her wif Royce. Proper. I won't forget."
His eyes flick to Sushi, "Lightning, gator, tangle, you probably saved us from complete loss. I won't forget."
Batrachus. "You an me, we f!+~ s@$* up. Ain't glorious, but it gets the job done. I saw you, big lad. I won't forget.
"Taur, you made our crew f!~#nig heroes yesterday, den you threw yourself in 'arm's way to save the big lad. I won't forget."
"Lass." He looks at Elara. "Your magics grow more potent every damn day. Wifout you, that mage woulda done even more harm. An puttin folks to sleep wut are fighting is roight smart and proper. I won't forget."
"Phoebe, sorry you was sick with crabs, but roight pleased you're back in da fight again."
Knox pulls a large ledger toward himself, opens it, and wets a quill.
"When officers fail in dere duty, havta be consequences. We failed our crew, and them wuts died don't have no fancy scroll to bring em back. Least we can do's honor them with fair and roight punishment.
"Three lashes each - not you Phoebe - to honor them wut's dead, remind us our duty, and show the crew ain't no one above the rules on dis ship."
He looks around, as if daring anyone to speak.
"But... Oim da Captain, an I f+*%ed up worst of all. Was me at the top of the Rock. Me wut could see the battle unfolding. Me wut coulda told you all to toighten up." His face grows rigid, and his body shakes in anger. "Me.. my fault.
"So, I'll take your lashes this toim, 'cause thass roight and propa. Them crew wut died is on me."
He nods, eyes thunderous.
"I won't forget."
BATTRACHUS RETORT:
Battrachus approaches Nox with his half hop, half waddling gait. He stretches himself up to something approximating his full height to look Nox in the eyes. It is easy to forget how large Battrachus can be when he wants to.
"The world is a dangerous place captain. And people die. It's the law of the swamp. The law of the jungle. And the law of the sea. And the places it ain' t the law are just lyin' about it. The crew isn't made up of volunteers. They ain't farmers or fishermen. They signed up to be crew. They signed up to be Stormriders. They signed up to work the Isendrek. They signed up to be f!*#ing pirates. And some are gonna get hurt. They didn't want to die, they should have fought harder. Or been more clever. Or more viscious. And the survivors will see what happened to them, and learn. Us included. But that's where it ends.
We'll replace the fallen. WIth folks who will be as good or better. And if they ain't, they'll die, and we'll replace them. But that's the job. That's what it means to be chief. Or captain. The path to greatness is always paved in blood. If you are gonna beat yourself up, or even threaten to beat one of us up. every time something goes wrong, you may be in the wrong profession. Or at least on the wrong boat.
The world is a scary place. This ain't a nursery. We are here for power. For riches. For wealth. You got beaten down. It happens. You gonna let it emasculate you? Or is it gonna make you meaner?
KNOX RETORT:
nox doesn't puff up. If anything, he looks more relaxed than he has in a day. He grins, "This one's been a long time coming, ain't it?"
"Big lad, you're an idiot and a hypocrite. 'Ere you are, talking big about survival an' everyone bein' on der own to make it or die. I'll take dis puh-ticular moment ta remind you dat if we all followed your creed, you'd be dead more times den anone else in dis crew and your Gogunta roight f~!~ed out of her prophet, or whatever you call yourself. You're alive because your f!*+ing crew saved your warty ass time and time again after you went down... same as me.
"Working together... dat's what makes us great. Pulling toward one goal. A single mind. Loyal. If we followed your reasoning, you'd be dead many times over."
Knox leers at Batrachus, his eyes glowing. "It ever occur to you dat da reason your folk never made it in the real f!+#in' world is 'cause you act like f%@+ing animals? No loyalty. No trust. No f@#!ing CREW!! Know why you're still even alive in da swamps? BECAUSE NO ONE F&$*ING WANTS TO GO THERE!"
"You can spread all da seed you want, big lad, but if you an your people can't work together, you're f~+*ed. That's why I ain't worried you laid your brood on my island. Most of 'em will eat each other. By the time they's grown, they'll be two left. Your plan? It's stupid.
"And I ain't afraid of stupid."
Knox steps a hair closer.
"It ever occur to you why your Gogunta spat you out inta dis world? You fink it's just to spread your seed and watch it grow? F+@# me, big lad, but you're thick. Fink your brood will stand against Cheliax Marines? Hmm?
"Maybe, just maybe, your great lady Gogunta sent you out here to learn why your people haven't done f##* all in millenia. Maybe she's onto sommat you haven't copped to yet - you need to adapt."
"Or.. you can stay an idiot, and next time you fall, we'll just leave you there 'cause you shoulda fought harder an' all that b$%&$+*s." Knox gives Eubels a pat, "we'll bring da hippo back safe, though."
Knox begins to turn, "Your choice, big lad. You can tell me you want to be crew anytime. Until then, I'll treat you like an animal and you'll lie where you fall."
He turns back and steps real close.
"'An one more thing..." Knox draws himself to his full 6'7", topknot scraping the beams above, "if your Captain decides you merit punishment, you'll take it like a f!&*ing champ, or else I'll show you to exactly what it means to be backed up by a f*$#ing crew that feels taken care of and valued."
BATTRACHUS RETORT:
Batrrachus puffs himself up. He cannot match Knox’s height, but he has him on girth, and general jowliness. What’s left of his affable thugishness seems to drop away.
‘That’s true, captain. I’m alive because this crew brought me back. Cuz I’m useful. I stand in a fight, I take a hit, and I hit back hard. I stand in front of the people who can't take a hit, but can do other useful things. I don’t run. I don’t back down. Unless something is bigger and stronger. Because it's stupid starting fights you can’t win. You survive. You get bigger and stronger and meaner. And then... then you revisit the issue.
The swamp is hard. But it breeds good sense. Swamp sense. And a good crew invests in things that are strong and sensible. If I had no value, I wouldn’t be worth bringing back. That’s a privilege you gots to earn. And you’ll note, for the record, I backed returning Sushi from the dead. Cuz he’s useful. And Taur. And Adolpho and Elara and Pheobe. And I was in favor of bringing you back too. Because up until now you’ve been useful. A good captain. One that smelled of the swamp.
But this crying ain’t becoming. It’s weak, and it's posturing And the swamp doesn’t have time for posturing. You know how I know you don't mean it. Because while you made a pretty speech about how much that dead crew meant to you, not once did you suggest we bring em back. We got the gold. But you would rather spend that money on something useful. As you should! That is what a good captain would do. That’s how he looks after the survivors. The ones worth keeping around. Treat your crew right captain, and they'll be loyal. But don't punish them because you're upset someone one-upped you. That's downright Harrigan of you, Captain.
I see you trying to draw blood by threatening my brood. But your blade hasn't been honed by the wisdom of the swamp. You're right...by the time my brood is grown, there may just be one or two of em left. But that's the point. There will just be one or two. But they will be hard. And strong. And they will make Gogunta proud. They'll be the kind of Boggard you want on a crew. The kind that can reshape their immediate vicinity.
Regional prominence comes from strength. From culling the weak. From doubling down on the strong. And the strong test themselves, maybe even unto death. And the living judge. Thats their right as survivors. To ask the question 'is this one worth bringing back? Is there still greatness to come? And will their greatness make me great?' You’ll bring me back because I am going to pave the way to the future you want. Because your seat on the pirate council will come with me manning your guns. With me being the first person crossing the span between ships and drawing first blood when we board.
Well, Adolpho may beat me to it. He is fast, and hard. A good guy to have on a crew. And you've got quite a few good ones here. If I were you, captain, I'd be worried about how you're gonna keep em.
I left the swamp because I had aspirational but achievable dreams that could be met within the local environs of the Shackles. So do all your officers. And those dreams led us here. They got us this ship. And we made you captain of that ship because we believed you'd help us get further. And we'd help you in return. That's the bargain. None of us are here to babysit the weak. We are here to foster the strong. Those are swamp family values.
The swamp isn't a place for fantasy, so lets not pretend there won't be blood. The swamp knows anything worth having takes blood. So lets not lie to each other. You're mad you got beat. Good. You should be mad. No captain should accept failure. Next time you'll be more ruthless. You are mad we got jumped. Good. You should be mad. Next time we'll be more careful. But you're not mad that some people died. At least I hope not. Because people are gonna die on this journey. There's no way around it. And you need to be hard. Swamp hard. And the swamp doesn't cry over crew whose names we can't even remember. It don't cry over crew who didn't even have a song they sang while they worked for a bit of instant characterization. This ship can only hold so many bodies. I suggest we make em count.
Taur knows a lot of songs, and a lot of stories. And a lot of people die in those stories. And most of those people aint got names. They ain't remembered. Because they weren't worth remembering. You cry for the ones worth remembering, and you let the rest go. Otherwise you're gonna accomplish nothing because you is afraid to take a risk. Or you're gonna accomplish nothing and drag the rest of us down because you're too busy crying to be great. And you need to be tough, Captain. Swamp tough'.
Battrachus clasps Knox on the shoulder. It's a firm gesture, but not an assertion of dominance. 'Now, if I can be dismissed, captain, there is a beach full of dead sharkmen and pirates who stuck their noses where they don't belong. That's a lot of meat, and I aim to do some feasting, in honor of our dead.
But don't worry. I aim to cook em first. I mean, I'm not an animal.'
Battrachus turns and begins to walk away. As he does, he says 'And Eubels is a boy. If that confuses you I suggest you find where you put your cock and remember what they look like.'
KNOX RETORT:
"You go ahead an' eat, big lad." Knox appears to remain relaxed. "You've 'ad your say, and I've 'ad mine. Disagreement's part of piratin' - even childish insults."
He looks around the room at the gathered officers. "Good thing about a ship and crew - they gots their own minds wot can be made up. They've 'eard your bit an' mine. They can chew on it a while, and decide if they'd prefer a change in 'ow dis ship is run."
He heaves out a deep breath, "This ain't about folk dying - dat s&#& happens all the time. This is about doin' things smart and proper. Of course crew die - dats pirating - but it ain't okay if they die needlessly. An' I'm pretty sure you agree, big lad. We don't want to waste resources wut are useful to us. An' punishment? Pain's a great teacher - drives 'ome the lesson, don't it?"
Knox begins to unstrap his breastplate. "You go on an' feast. I'll be up on the deck takin' lashes so's I, at least, remember our mistakes an don't make the same ones again. Dat's 'ow greatness is built."
He lays the breastplate gently on an amor rack bolted to the floor. The whip-scars on his back ripple beneath his musculature.
"An Eubels might look a boy to you, but deep down in her secret places, she's yearns ta be a lady."
Adolfo’s Musings – The Failed Siege at The Rock
Adolfo sat in the waning sunlight, feet up, drink in hand, as he recounted the day’s events. He sipped the sweet, mead-like concoction that bee fellow had made for him. It was quite the benefit to have fresh honey on demand out at sea. One of the many perks to having such a weird mix of characters on this crew.
He smiled to himself. This was his kind of ship… strange and unpredictable. Truly exciting!
Samdara had dozed off next to him, her head resting lazily on his shoulder.
She was a good girl. So beautiful, and smart.
They had been walking on the beach when the ambush hit. She had listened when he told her to run for the ship. She had hesitated, her loyalty and love holding her just long enough to make his heart swell, but his steely glare and knowing nod told her not to argue.
That other fool on the beach wasn’t quite as smart, lingering long enough to take a blade to the gut. He should have listened to Adolfo. Or better yet, he should have stayed back in Quent and studied up on the value of listening to his betters. Hahaha the fool!
But, for some reason, strangely, this fool’s death seemed to bother him. And not for the reason he expected. Yes, of course, the man was a complete idiot for not following the orders of possibly the greatest pirate to ever exist. But, in the back of his mind, there was remorse… a slight tugging on his heart. Who was that man? Did he have a family back home? He looked so scared when he died.
A quick swig of drink and a shake of the head cleared away that nonsense.
He smiled at the memory of the battle on the beach… five on one! Impossible odds! And then to stand at the castle doors… the odds even worse! The result, either a true miracle or a true pirate’s death! Either way, an adventure! Another story Taur could sing in praise of the Great Adolfo! His heart pounded at the thought of it. He shuddered a bit in excitement.
Samdara shifted in her sleep and nuzzled deeper into his shoulder, hugging his arm. She had wept when she finally saw him again on the ship. She slapped him for being so reckless and showered him with kisses a moment after.
Reckless, crazy… she used those words so often with him. She was always pleading with him to be more careful… to play it safer. So they could have a long future together.
He recalled having responded “Haha, my dear! You do not become ‘Great’ by playing it safe! Would you prefer to share your bed with The Mediocre Adolfo?!”
She had laughed and acquiesced. She wouldn’t admit it, but she loved his recklessness, almost as much as it scared her.
But a deeper, more powerful thought pulled at the back of his mind, and no drink or shake of the head would dismiss it so easily.
There was a moment on the beach. Following the flurry of steel and blood, the screams of dying men and the booming voice of ‘El Capitan’ thundering in from above.
He lost time again.
One moment, he was staring into the face of that last scallywag, watching the man’s life slowly drain away as his body slid off the rapier’s blade. The next moment he was at the edge of the water, empty potion in hand. He watched as around a dozen or more marauders streamed down the unfinished docks towards the Rock’s front doors.
His emotions had taken a turn, going from sheer excitement to… something else. He was concerned. He was hesitant.
He was afraid.
He stared at the empty potion bottle in his hand… Invisibility. He quickly confirmed that he had already vanished from sight. Thoughts of escaping swirled in his head… run to the ship and sail away, hide under that dingy sitting further up the beach, just jump in the ocean and swim out to sea. Just somehow, some way, get out of there!
These feelings were foreign, and frustrating. He hadn’t lost time like this in so long. It must have only been a few seconds. And why in Besmara’s name did he drink this potion? Surely not to flee! He decided to chastise himself aloud to snap out of it. That always seemed to help.
“The Great Francis… Frankie…” he stammered, choking on these strange names that had no meaning to him whatsoever. His anger boiled over as he threw down the bottle and slapped himself across the face.
“The Great Adolfo never runs!” he bellowed as he dove into the water and headed toward the front door.
The dramatic reveal of coming out of invisibility to face the shocked faces of an oncoming hoard might have been the single most exciting moment of his life! And it was not his time to die!
-------------------------------------------------
The ship’s bell tolled, snapping him back to the present.
Samdara roused slowly and turned to kiss Adolfo’s cheek before relinquishing his arm and sitting up.
Adolfo knew what the bell was for. I guess you could call it a “bloody hour”, though they did not come daily on this ship as it did on the Wormwood. Only on demand.
And today the captain demanded blood.
As he stood up and stretched, he pondered his captain.
That Knox was an interesting fellow. Hard as nails but with significant emotional weak spots. But, all in all, he was doing ok as captain. Not nearly as Good as Adolfo would do, of course.
That bee fellow had alluded to Adolfo being captain. He had asked why Adolfo didn’t have his own ship, or if he’d ever want to command this one. That wasn’t the first time a crew member had made that assertion, or at least hinted at it. His duty always made him laugh it off and make a snide comment about getting lashes for such talk. But he loved every mention of it, his ego slurping it all up like the finest spirits.
But he understood why they felt that way. Knox was always barking orders and yelling. He was no Harrigan by any stretch, but he was so boorish, not refined like Adolfo. And for Besmara’s sake, that giant, bulbous head could seriously use a good hat!
Yes, Adolfo was clearly the best option for this ship. Everyone knew it. Or at least his ego convinced him everyone knew it.
But Knox was a good man. He could live with him as captain… at least for now.
Besides, being captain seemed like such a pain. Always busy with business and talking and planning. On the other hand, Adolfo’s current position let him have authority, cross swords with countless foes, all while still having ample opportunity to satisfy his mind, which was always thirsting for new challenges. Making the ship faster, building elevators for the lookouts and creative odds and ends to help his mates was so satisfying.
But that was Adolfo. Two halves to an unmatched, complicated whole. How could he want to fight and adventure so badly yet yearn for the drafting table and engineering books just as strongly? His answer was a long childhood story about a far-off exotic land that only existed in his mind, with a dashing sword-master father and brilliant alchemist mother that lived only on the edges of his imagination.
A second bell tolled. He chugged down the remaining contents of his cup, placed it on the table beside him. He wheeled around purposefully and sauntered off to join the crew, who were gathering by the mainsail.
Knox was addressing the crew, but Adolfo wasn’t listening. Instead, his thoughts drifted back to the conversation he had with the captain and the other officer’s earlier that day. Knox had gone on and on about how the loss of guards and crew and the failings on the day were his fault and he would take our punishment.
Adolfo sat agog, wondering how the most exciting battle of his life, which ended in an overwhelming victory, could ever warrant any punishment. They were spread out, caught off guard, and severely outnumbered. They should all be dead. And every one of them that did die, willingly signed on to this detail, fully aware of all the risks.
But Adolfo also understood. Again, Knox had his emotional weak spots.
He pondered this further as Knox prepared for his lashes. His back was covered in scars, both from battles and punishment lashes from his earlier days. Adolfo stared intently at Knox, wondering that, if he stared hard enough, could he actually see the mental and emotional scars buried so deeply in Knox’s head and heart. If only Knox’s mother was as kind and nurturing as Adolfo’s… that is, if she wasn’t fictional, of course.
A thought occurred to Adolfo. He realized he was overcomplicating this. If the captain deemed this a failure, then a failure it was. And nobody bears pain meant for The Great Adolfo. If anything, The Great Adolfo stands in front and absorbs the pain!
Besides, what Knox was doing was a grand gesture. And the only thing Adolfo loves more than Samdara, the sea, and his fabulous hat… is an even grander gesture!
Just before the lashes began, Adolfo handed his hat to Samdara and strode out into the circle of his crew and mates, unbuttoning his shirt.
“It is not right to have the captain bear this punishment alone! As his right hand I will bear it as well!” he proclaimed as he removed his ruffled shirt and tossed it dramatically to the side.
Most of this crew had not seen Adolfo shirtless before. He always dressed in his best, even when pulling grueling manual duty in the sun. He never seemed to sweat. His body was as badly scarred as Knox’s, but differently. There were battle scars and the marks of a few whip strikes, just like the captain’s. But there were countless alchemical burns and clean slices, which were clearly surgical incisions, peppered all over his body. Adolfo has a long-winded, fascinating story for each one of these scars. Stories of battles and capture and torture and escape. All pirate action and warfare.
That was Adolfo’s truth. And he wore these scars proudly, like medals. The actual truth of a scared little boy being experimented on and tortured to unconsciousness had long been buried in the deepest recesses of his fractured mind.
Knox was furious, demanding Adolfo stand down. “Oi, I gave you a direct order! I’m taking these lashes alone!”
Adolfo, not to be outdone, retorted.
“And, respectfully, The Great Adolfo is ignoring that order!” he said taking position beside Knox. He then turned his head to stare Knox right in the eyes. “And what might the punishment for that be, Mon Capitan?” he asked wryly.
Knox sneered but Adolfo could swear a hint of smile lingered at the corners of his mouth. He could be wrong.
Knox looked out to the onlooking crew, clearly his thoughts jumping to a number of things he’d like to do to Adolfo in the moment. But he shook them off and sighed, shaking his head.
“Lashes, lad… lashes.” He turned and gave a nod to the crewman who nodded back pulling a second crewman from the crowd to man another whip.
Adolfo smiled. “If we are brothers in arms, we are also brothers in suffering!”
Knox nodded “Aye, lad.”
Adolfo couldn’t tell if it was respect or anger burning behind Knox’s gaze. Probably some combination of both, he surmised.
They kept their eyes locked on each other as the whips cracked.
Neither blinking…
Neither flinching…
Sneering smiles on both of their faces grew wider as their blood dripped down to the deck.
| drsparnum |
Session Nine - Wherein my players travel to Mancatcher Cove and recover Cyrus Wolfe's treasure...this one is written from the perspective of Ratline who died last session. Ratline was extra special because he gave more bonuses than normal crew in my custom ship combat mini game, but he died during the attack on Tidewater Rock last session.
Gods, she’s beautiful. She was beautiful the day they took her, and she’s only grown since. Sleek lines, tight canvas, a hull that rides low and fast—she’s become a true ship of the Shackled Seas. And she sings, still. I can hear her in the creak of her timbers and the snap of her sails. And when the crew scrambles to their posts with the wind at their backs and the sun on the water… she's a true dragon of the seas, and we, her riders.
I’ve been watching. Every haul of line, every swing of boom. I see the work of my old hands in the rigging still—taught others how to splice them right. It’s all still tight, clean, seaworthy. Captain would be proud. Is proud.
He don’t talk much, and when he does it’s rough as sand in your grog. But he loves that ship—loves her more than most men love family. I saw it in the way he’d pace the deck just before dawn, checking lines, checking trim. I saw it in the way he stared at the horizon like it might blink first. And he loved me, in his way. A nod after a clean tack, a grunt when the gun was laid just right. That was more than praise from Knox. That was trust. You could build a whole rigging on that trust.
And when he fell at Tidewater Rock—cut down by Isabella Locke’s cursed magic—I felt the crew tremble. But he didn’t stay dead for long.
Phoebe brought him back. I watched her raise him like it was nothing. Just another bit of magic from the woman who forgets to eat but remembers how to call the dead from the sea floor. And as soon as Knox had breath in his lungs again, he said it: “Let’s follow those f!&#ers.”
That’s my captain.
The crew didn’t hesitate. Not a one. They moved like the tides had spoken.
Lines were cast off. Cannons loaded. Sails hoisted in perfect time. It was a thing of beauty. Even the new blood knew their places. The Isendrak surged forward under full press of sail, chasing the Thresher across the black waters. Through the night, they followed her—Knox guiding her by the stars and the shape of the swells alone. Taur'Thalion at the wheel, a pilot-god as the storm blew itself out.
Morning of Kuthon Two broke with cannon fire. And gods, did she bark! Batrachus served the Uldergun, his beady eyes sighting along the spotless metal of her great barrel. Taur'Thalion winched the catapult. Elara rested her soft hands on the wheel as the sun crested the infinite horizon. Phoebe called out from the crowsnest - bless her ungainly courage being up there. I worried about her falling, but there was no need.
With a thump and boom, the artillery let fly. Again, and again, the Captain and Elara brought the ship into range, angled just right. The Thresher cracked and groaned under shot and stone. A white flag went up.
No one blinked. They boarded.
Batrachus hit the deck like a thunderclap. That frog-man’s got the muscles of a dozen oarsmen and the faith of a mad prophet. I always thought him strange, with his shrine to Gogunta in the bilge—candles bobbing in barrels, swamp-smelling trinkets lashed to the bulkheads. He claimed she watched over our keel. Maybe she did.
He fought like a zealot. Eubels by his side, a wall of hippo hide and iron discipline. The two of them faced Knuckles Grype, a bare-fisted brawler who could shake a mast with a punch. Eubels took the blows without flinching. Batrachus drove his spear through gaps in Grype’s guard. And Taur’Thalion finished their work with a great blow from behind.
Taur’s a strange one—all ancient blood and deep song. I’ve seen the way the crew look at him when he sings, eyes sharp, backs straighter. He’s no mere bard. He carries something old inside him. A fire lit beneath glaciers. He brought that pike down on Grype like he was splitting a mountain.
Phoebe, for her part, fought in her own way. Cold as the grave and twice as precise. Her spells curled like mist, burning the life from the enemy officers. Boomer, her latest pet, crunched into enemy officers with dispassionate efficiency.
Elara was brilliant as ever. A vision in motion—calm, beautiful, deadly. She didn’t waste a gesture. Her spells crackled, her mind never stopped working. There’s a grace to her that’s rare on the sea. Not just pretty—commanding. The kind of woman sailors would follow off the edge of the map. I’ve seen it. I felt it.
And then there’s Sushi. That bird summons storms with a smirk. Calls sharks like most men call dogs. Cool-headed, quick-fingered, always one step from the shadows. He doesn’t need a spotlight. Just give him a second and an opening, and he’ll change the whole battle.
Together, they took the Thresher. No crew lost. None. Shame they couldn't have done so well at the Rock, but I was proud - they had learned.
But the sea's a brutal master and, while sailing back to the Rock, they were assaulted by savage Manticores. The crew did their bit, serving the ballistae and cannon, smashing 'em as they flew by. Poor Phoebe - one beastie flung spikes from its tail an cut down her disgusting, unnatural, crab in mere moments. Poor flyers, one landed on the deck of the Thresher. A mistake. With a deep gulping cry, Batrachus and Eubels pounced. Manticores is tough, certain enough, but once that pair are on opposite sides of ya - you're frog-food.
Knox waited by Elara's side, guarding the pilot. With a gentle touch, like a sweet caress, the beautiful sea-maiden gifted his great bow with the power of the storm. When a manticore flew into range, the bow twanged; once, twice, the arrows flew straight, pregnant with witchy lightning. That beastie never knew what hit him. The rest were either chased off or succumbed to attacks from the crew, but not before Batrachus and Eubels misjudged the distance between ships and, eager as ever for more blood, leapt off one ship, ran in midair for a moment, and then plunged into the sea. Oh, thank you Besmara for this parting gift. I'll treasure it.
I watched them sail home, saw them take to repairs like master shipwrights. I saw Knox push the crew and himself, driving them harder because he knew we might not get another chance. Sushi led the work, and the new sailors followed orders sharp and quick. Phoebe raised her manticores from the dead. Elara wept a bit, for the departed, I think. Taur’Thalion played music at sunset, luring secrets from Songer’s lips about a murder and a mystery that waits like a shadow over his past. The ship was alive in ways she never was before. She had heart. Soul. Family.
When they reached Mancatcher Cove, I followed.
I saw Batrachus and Eubels carry others up the cliffs. Saw Phoebe ride an undead beast with glee. Knox bore Elara like she weighed nothing, cradling her supple form in his great arms. The caves were dark and deep. They entered like whispers in the water.
The fighting was harsh. I didn't like to see it, but understood the need. Sahaugin, sharks, civilians. It wasn’t clean. Batrachus reveled in it. Phoebe, too. Sushi kept the carnage precise. Elara and Taur’Thalion were quieter, uneasy. But they did what needed doing. Knox… he was cold vengeance, pure and steady. He didn’t kill with rage—he killed with purpose. For me. For Tidewater Rock. For the Isendrak. Despite growing water pressure, and fading reserves, they pressed on.
And when they faced Kelloort the chieftain, there was no hesitation. Eubels held the line. Sushi summoned the beasts of the deep. Elara gave Taur air to sing, and he did—his song filling the sea like a rising tide. Phoebe burned their foes with necrotic flame. Batrachus brought spear and greatsword, one with his god. And Knox finished it. Killing their boss and one of his concubines. The room fell silent.
They found treasure. Secrets. Magic. A matriarch of the Locathah, freed. A lich nearby. A passage to unknown depths they were not yet ready to face. There’s always another mystery, isn’t there?
They took their spoils back to the ship. Celebrated with the crew as is right an proper. They stepped into the cove and killed the remaining sea devils there - a patrol - and then back into the caves for one last push.
And there they found him—an undead pirate captain, chained with anchor and memory. He rose, struck down most of the crew with a gaze. My Captain held the line, alone, with shield and trident, until the others broke free and brought their strength to bear.
The sea tried one last time to swallow them.
It failed.
They now hold thirteen plunder - too much for the holds. Four they hid deep, as is proper. Fifty-eight crew remain - nearly a full complement. Thirteen marks of infamy. The seas know their names.
And now, I think, I can go.
They didn’t fall apart without me. They grew sharper. Stronger. Better.
I was a rigger, and I was proud.
I was a sailor, and, at the end, I was Stormrider true.
I go now to the sea beyond all shores.
Fair winds, Stormriders. Keep her shipshape for old Ratline.
Party Infamy Remains: 12
| drsparnum |
Party after session 9:
Taur'Thalian Sigtrygrrson: L6 Half-elf skald (Dragon skald)
Sushi: L6 Tengu druid (shark-shaman) of Hei Feng
Batrachus: L1 Boggard brawler (wild child)/L6 Hunter
Elara Variel: L6 Human witch (fey-touched hexer)
The Great Adolfo: L6 Human swashbuckler (Inspired blade)
Lawrence "Hard" Knox: L6 Half-orc ranger (Divine tracker)
Phoebe Flynn: L6 Human cleric (Undead lord)