We made our way down the stone stairs from the cellar. I took the lead, with the blunderbuss ready. I also seem to have the quietest footsteps of the group. I was constantly worried that whatever was down there would hear us.
After a while, we came to a small opening on the stairs. It looked down on the ocean, which was still another 40 or 50 feet below us. There was a skiff there, and with the spyglass I could see a group loading up a set of crates. The group was mostly human, though there was a Grael as well.
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This is just a placeholder. My plan is to update it with a log from this session.
When I received word in Baltimus that the Zephyr had pulled into port with a load of silk cloth, I smiled. Fate had changed for us as soon as I made the right decision, the decision to turn the seven cannon over to Admiral Duckworth.
True, that decision had cost me dearly. I’d left my guard down, the evil had struck me. Of course, the evil we now know is Aneiela. I had a wart or something on my hand and she cut it off. The hand, not the wart. She’s unapologetic about it which just confirms that she’s a heartless psychopath.
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I guess the Captain had been keeping a log of our travels. Since he has fallen ill, it has fallen to me to keep this record.
We had gotten all the cannon off the El Diablo and were debating what to do with them. Migel was convinced the cannons were cursed, and I thought he might just jump off the ship and try to swim for it. It was hard to argue with him, with all the dead bodies hanging on the El Diablo. I thought we might be able to turn them into Admiral Duckworth, either for gold or possibly even a Letter of Marque. Regardless, this was the second job we had done for the Great Hok and both of them had left a sour taste in my mouth. Sure, the first one was profitable. But the Hok had flat out lied to us about the nature of that wreck.
Captain Thunder initially seemed conflicted, but then made up his mind. He gave us a speech:
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I’ve never liked Grael. Great big walrusy goons usually. Except for this one. The Great Hok. He’s a quick one.
Brigandy Bay is a nasty den of the ocean’s rubbish but just what we needed right now. We had the wood to sell and start our trading careers with the Zephyr. Just needed a buyer.
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Puddleside used to be a crossroads hamlet before the Great Deluge. Once the water had settled, Puddleside was now on the coast and had inherited a medium-sized bay ideal for smaller ships and fishing boats. Prosperity came quick.
Aneiela’s father, Bartholomew Asa, had owned quite a bit of old Puddleside and he sharply converted his stake into a sizeable fortune. He became the ‘big man’ of Puddleside as Harbormaster, rival to Mayor Plinkett himself. Being that powerful meant he made plenty of enemies along the way.
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We had fair sailing for a few days. Little did we know they were to be our last aboard the fair Rebecca. Iranthis warned us of great beasts in these waters but it wasn’t until the ship shuddered with the first impact, that we truly believed him.
It was at night and in a storm as these always are. We battled to keep the ship together but many of our crew including our super were swept into the maw of some vast monster of the deep. The captain and I were able to guide the ship and beach her, stranding us on the Savage Isle.
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I was not always Nigel Harold Wittington the Third, Esquire. Years ago, I was but a boy… Nigel Harold Wittington the Third, cabin boy. It was my first chance to go to sea and I was more than ready to go. The sea is in the Wittington blood going back to Elias Palfrey Wittington the Drowned, Simenon Hafthot Wittington the Blind, and even Machius Jollypot Wittington the Maimed.
While I was lecturing crewmen far older than myself in the basic skills of seamanship, we came in sight of an enemy vessel. Battle was to be joined and my place was the gun deck. It was my duty to run powder from the Powder Room up to the gun crews so the great ship could keep up its prodigious rate of fire.
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IRANTHIS’ INTERLUDE – IN PURSUIT OF POWER
This is the interlude I wrote up last night. I didn’t see any point in interrupting the game and I didn’t need the bennies (I ended the session with one still in my hand). I figure this would be the best place for this.
During the voyage to Buccaneer Bay, Iranthis takes a break from powering the sails and sits down between a few of his fellow crewmen. “You’ve asked me frequently about my past and I have been resistant to reveal much. This is not because of some duty or me having been sworn to secrecy. In truth, the origin of my mastery of wind and sea has a rather embarrassing start.”
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Aye, I was just First Mate then, ‘tis true. Serving under a good master, Cap’n Jonas Abraham, on the fair Rebecca. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was in command of my own ship. I just didn’t realize how it would happen.
We were sailing fast on the Pirate Seas safe distance from the Savage Lands when the squall became a right thunderer. Lost the foremast and two unlucky souls washed into the sea before that was over. We also lost the medicine chest and all the fair water. Oh, there’s the wound, surrounded by water yet none to drink. Our flighty water mage could do little to solve that problem so we made for land.
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