Upon my return to the Dashing Stag from the temple of Florannus, I had time to think, albeit with my head buzzing from drink, about Veranda. I still did not know for sure what to do, but I knew my indecision could not go on for long. The men could not be allowed to see my distrust of her. We either had to trust her fully and welcome her return with open arms, or not trust her at all and shut her out. I was still thinking of this as I walked past our guards and into my cabin.
It should have been very dark inside my cabin, disturbed only by the light breathing sounds of Quorra’s sleep and the usual creaks and groans of the ship. However a candle was flickering and Quorra lay upon the bed covered with a soft blanket and her fiery red hair looked dark in the meager light. Her beauty was spendid as always. She had been reading a book of illusion, one we had recovered from a tomb in Paralinth. She put it down as I entered.
“You are back late.” She said without emotion.
She was normally very good at hiding her feelings, if she wanted to be, and now was such a time. I almost never stayed out late and she was right to be worried.
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We had partied at the House of Flourranus.We danced, sang, and drank all night long. As I woke I thought I was draped across my hammock. As I opened my eyes slowly I knew there was no way I was in my cabin. The light was just way too bright. When my eyes focused I was looking down at the street below the ship. I could see the farmers bringing in their crops to sell at the market forty feet below. I was draped over the beam protruding from the front of the ship.How the hell did I get out here?
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Veranda. I admit I was stunned at her presence, standing there alive and well with her body intact, beautiful and free of the scars of her hard life. Last I had seen her she was cold, broken, stiff and dead as we buried her in the mountains of Northern Barsaive.
When she asked me whether she could still serve on the ship as part of the crew, my logical mind screamed to say no. With the importance of our quests combined with the fact that I had buried the woman only a few days prior, by all rights I should have thrown her off of the ship without ceremony. But I found myself strangely indecisive, which is not normal for me. It wasn’t because of some sort influence by her either, it was because I sensed something more to her, something I couldn’t place my finger on. I could not say no, but I didn’t want to yes either. Clearly some powerful magic was afoot. For good or ill? I did not know for sure, but without a good reason I suspected it was the former.
What a nice change that would be.
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After the last Espagra had fled, we regrouped. Osrack and Womax were both badly wounded and in need of attention. Draiden began binding their wounds and Vridich used his healers kit to aid their recovery. Suulin and Skram were also in bad shape, but were at least conscious and able to get around without trouble.
Wheeler, myself, Korack, Urgral, Draiden, and the troll from the downed ship, Dagmar, circled the wounded and warily kept an eye on the jungle around us. I also kept an eye on the troll, for though he was clearly no Theran, we did not know who he was.
The Dashing Stag came down and we hoisted our wounded aboard. Then Dremnin and his mentor, Quinn, joined us on the wreckage of the Theran vedette while Kerick took the helm.
It was then that we heard the story of Dagmar Steelsong.
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The dragon.
I met with The Unchained, Kerick and Eldwulf while we sat in harbor in Haven, to discuss the dragon and the crew. It was a long discussion and in the end, it was decided that we would tell them. As captain, and the leader of these men, it would fall to me to tell them. I was fine with that. My father was good at giving speeches and leading men, I hoped I could do it as well as he. I remember that he used to tell me that most men want to be lead, but only by a good leader who they believe in. Our men were mostly members of the Stoneclaw moot and men of Konigsberg. Their honor was without reproach, and their morals and sense of duty were similar to my own. If I could not lead good men such as these, I did not not deserve to lead.
The morning of our departure, we lifted off and after departing Haven we set down again only a few miles away so I could address the crew away from prying ears. The crew was assembled on the main deck, Draiden and Skram put them in a combat formation. Each was at the front of a contingent of men standing in three deep ranks. All were standing tall, many with looks of curiosity on their faces. With good reason. Other than for morning drills, I did not give speeches or address the crew as a whole very often. The last time I had done so was when we departed from the Reach on our quest.
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After we chased off the espagra we started to look around the ship. It appeared that the only survivor was the troll that had burst out on to the deck during the fight. Dagmar was taller than me but shorter than other trolls. The broken chains still hung from the shackles on his wrists. He was covered in living crystal armor, carried a huge sword and a box of building tools. He told us that the rest of the slaves down under the deck were dead.
We started searching the barge and found a lot of nothing. The captains quarters were ran sacked and there was blood everywhere. Dremnin, Stilicho, and Urgral went out in to the woods tracking the espagra that had took the captain. As I understand they found the ships treasure still clutched in the captains severed hand.
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In the aftermath of the battle with the Espagra, the Unchained and the rest of their party searched the wreckage of the slave barge for any userful items. This was a good idea, it turned out, for besides some good quality crew rations and several healing kit refills, Dremnin found evidence in the captain’s cabin of someone having looted the captain’s sea chest before escaping the ship in the jaws of an Espagra. No doubt it was not the end the captain had intended, but Dremnin and Quinn led a small group into the woods to track the heavily laden Espagra in hopes of finding the inedible loot.
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The voyage from Haven to Bartertown began uneventfully, with an early morning cast-off of the mooring lines by the deck hands. The morning breeze caused the canvas to slap momentarily until the wind filled the canvas of the Dashing Stag. Dremnin took the wheel and steered a southerly course, aiming for the pass between the high peaks. We left port with the rising of the sun, and anticipated smooth sailing ahead. By evening we had almost reached our destination for the day, which was the cairn where we had buried the hapless crewman named Veranda. Alas, with the fading light of day, we could not locate the cairn before being forced into an alternate anchorage for the night in the foothills of the tall peaks which marked the end of the lower plain. Though the guard was doubled all night for security, no ill fell upon the trim ship and crew while we slept.
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We were headed south on the Dashing Stagon our way back to barter town. The day was clear and spirits were high after the great treatment we received in haven. We all looked forward to getting back to barter town and finishing the last of our business there. I think that several of the unchained need to train to 5th circle. We have info to collect from the great library. Purchase supplies for the boat. Then we will be ready to head out on our quest of looking for the staff.
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We left Haven promptly at dawn and tried to make our way back to the location where we had buried Veranda of our way here. This was to be where we camped for the night. The skies were clear but we were unable to find it. I could see that Dremnin was quite frustrated by this. I however was somewhat glad for the fact that we couldn’t find the spot. After making the plan it occurred to me that staying the night where we had buried a crewmen would do no good for moral. Instead we pulled into a small cove along the peaks and set anchor. I doubled the normal night guard and made sure that we paired up those without night sight to someone who had it.
The night passed uneventfully, and the next morning we were off again at dawn. I scanned the rocky outcroppings for Veranda’s gravestone as we left, but did not see it.
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