07/09/745 A.E. Early Morning, The Great Hall in Mandrake Manor, their new home.
Nearly sixty days had passed since they were all last together. Carl thought silently to himself as he approached the latest summons at the door, the silver chimes, newly installed, having just sung out, announcing yet another arrival. "How many will there be," he fretted as he continually worried about the breakfast meal he had prepared. "Too many and I may not have made enough. Too few and I will have wasted money. Their money." The thought of displeasing his new employers distressed him. It was a good job, and if the rumors were true, they'd be gone most of the time, leaving him in charge of the entire manor and small staff. He liked that. Excellent pay, a nice home, good food and drink, but only if he didn't fail in his duties. "A temperamental bunch, these adventurers," he thought. "One never knows what will set them off." He arrived at the entryway and opened the door. A holy man, yes, that described him; a holy looking man stood upon the steps, his robes adorned with the symbol of Zeus. Carl recognized the man as a priest.
The priest spoke first. "Good morning, my good man. Are your masters at home? I have heard they would be meeting today, but secondhand knowledge is, well, not always the most reliable thing in the world." Carl simply answered. He knew he didn't yet know all his employers' friends, but he thought it best to announce the man first. "Yes sir; if you will be so good at to wait in the cloakroom, sir, I will announce you presently. What is your name, sir?" Jarmain glanced at the man as he hung up his cloak and dropped his blanket covered bundle, thinking this place was a bit formal, but he didn't mind as his life usually revolved around formalities. "Jarmain Ba`Graben," was all he replied.
Leaving the priest in the cloakroom, Carl Teeman hurried down the length of the hall to find the gathering of his new employers. There stood Katsumi, the woman of the house, oddly dressed in colorful clothing Carl had never seen before. She was practicing with an odd, overly large wooden mallet with a metal head. An unusual weapon, thought Carl, as he had never seen that before, either. Gillmesh sat near her, sharpening his thin stiletto daggers with a whet stone while he waited, the cloth spread out before him on the large, maple wood table to protect it from any scarring. Across the room from Kat sat Garren, a priest of the sea, so they said, but Carl knew little of the sea. Garren spent a great deal of time in the basement, most of which was said to be off-limits to the staff, and Carl only went down there to the wine cellar area to retrieve one of the finer bottles of wine, and only when asked to do so, though usually the newer stuff kept at the bar in the sitting room would suffice for most guests and most occasions. Carl was proud of his knowledge of fine wines. In fact, it was probably what got him this job. His future employers advertised for someone with experience enough to handle their vast wine cellar properly and could demonstrate superior knowledge of fine wines. Carl's thoughts returned to the present when he noted Garren kept looking over at Kat, smiling, and then glancing away before she turned to see what held his interest so much.
Sedoc, a ranger and woodsman, silently paced the room, the wooden floor seemed perfect to his feet and he seemed to be impressed with the woodworking skills of the craftsmen who had placed the floor all those years ago. Not a creak anywhere. Just then the maid came in with the breakfast cart, as instructed, and began serving breakfast to all who wished.
"Excuse me, sirs, but there is a rather holy looking man, a priest of Zeus it would appear, waiting within the cloakroom. One Jarmain Ba` Graben, I believe. He is expected?" Teeman asked. A blank look of cluelessness crossed most of their faces, except for Gillmesh who looked up from his knives and smiled. "Ohy Aye, Ah knoo him. Send him in, Karl." Carl went to do as instructed, but he continued to wonder about the way that man pronounced his first name. It seemed wrong somehow, but he couldn't place his finger on it. Oh well, it wasn't like he'd correct him anyway even if he knew what is was. Moments later Carl returned. "Jarmain Ba` Graben, sir, Priest of Zeus." Just then Janjit slipped in, passing Carl and Jarmain without comment, almost surprising the butler, but Carl had come to expect it since he never could hear THAT ONE walking about. Scared the bejeezers out him all that first week, but he was getting used to it after a month or two. In fact, Carl began to suspect the roguish fellow was practicing on him, seeing how quietly he could sneak up on the butler before he noticed. Instead of being annoyed, though, Carl tried to learn to be more aware of his surroundings, making it harder for his employer, perhaps becoming a more worthy challenge and making himself just a little more worth employing.
Janjit made a beeline for the hot food as he had been up all night and hadn't eaten in over 10 hours. Jarmain grinned as he saw Gillmesh. "Greetings all. Hello old friend," said the priest as he addressed Gillmesh and extended his arm to clasp with the warrior's in the traditional style. "It has been a while." The warrior from the plains of Hotoru nodded. "Ay, et haz bin. Sit here an' break yer fast with us. We hav things ta discuss and we may be headed back ta the stronghold of that fighter and his wizard friend. Ay think it may hold a few more things o' interest." Though the priest had eaten gruel a couple hours earlier, the food looked promising and he helped himself. Then Trekken entered from the kitchen area, more impressive looking than normal, yet subdued somehow, as if his outward holiness had intensified, yet turned inward. He seemed, well, enlightened somehow since his return from the dead. He also sat to take a light meal.
All were here now, so introductions and breakfast filled the early morning, and it was over an hour before they began to discuss real business. Though a bit early, they called for drinks and cigars, and Carl immediately complied, bringing forth one of the many large bottles of brandy recently purchased to stock the bar, and one box of cigars all the way from The Sheer where the hobbits grew the bottomleaf. Expensive little things, these cigars, at nearly 10 SP each, a box of twenty cost 2 GP. Carl kept the manor's books, so he had to know such things and keep track of them.
When Jarmain finished his breakfast, he revealed a blanket wrapped around a long, slim object. He had been carrying it with him and now decided it was time to reveal it. "Gentlemen," he started, "this little item was what helped start the chain of events that led to your repeated assaults on the dungeon complex." He uncovered a magic sword, the one he had obtained all those months ago in the mausoleum of Sir Gerald Cumference, along with his journal which had revealed so much. "Though not a single individual who started this course of events still remains within this group, I was there, and I retrieved this. In a way, I figure it belongs to me, but then, its history also belongs to the party, and though not one of you were there, the momentum it imparted still carried many of you to this point where we are today. I'd like to share it with you, Gillmesh, my friend, though you and I will probably just sell it and split up the proceeds." "If only you had been a spear," Jarmain thought to himself.
Everyone looked at the sword, especially Sedoc and Gillmesh, hefting it, examining it as warriors often do, testing it for balance. It was a nice sword, functionally the equal of Gill's current magic blade, but in style, it was superior, more elegant, sleek, and probably of dwarven-make. For the right amount of money, such quality could be further enchanted, Gill knew. Gill's sword, on the other hand, was never meant to be more than it already was - it was what was referred to in the "magic" business as a functional rather than artistic work, though Gill didn't know this."Ah wish ah had mo' money," he thought, but he didn't. Not then. Not yet.
They decided to take it with them and have it appraised at the magic shop in Alodar. Then, it was time for the scheduled business to begin, the reason they were all here.
Trekken began. "When last we were together, Sedoc expressed a desire to see his grandfather up north, so I asked the church of Thor if there was anything that might need to be looked into up there, perhaps a quest worthy of my best effort. It turns out such a quest was possible, and though it holds great promise and interest to me since it concerns a relic and part of my lord's history, the leads are rather vague and uncertain. There may be something in it, but then again, there may not. Yet my temple thought highly enough about it to sponsor my quest and arrange for passage on a ship that will be heading in that direction soon, not only for myself, but also for all who would join me. If you think you might like to join me and Sedoc, you're welcome." True, the holy warrior recently turned priest did not provide a lot of details, but then it became apparent he really didn't have many details himself. But it was something to do and afforded Sedoc the opportunity to travel north to the wastelands of Tor and see his grandpa again.
Sedoc spoke next. "I thank you for a chance to go. I probably would have gone anyway since grandpa is getting up there in years and I haven't seen him in awhile. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, considering the freakish way Janjit and I ended up here. My grandfather is holding my family's territorial land, and I kinda wanted to see if he's all right. So I'm in. How about the rest of you? A long ocean voyage will do you good," he said as he lit up the cigar, its aroma filling the room with a sweet undertone of the subtle incense of bottomleaf. He looked at the cigar for he had never had one of these before. "Bottomleaf?" he thought. "Not bad. Sweet, yet not overly so, and smooth. I can get used to these." He looked over to see what Gill thought of them, but saw he was filling his pipe instead. The pipe's smoke soon wafted its way over, cutting through the aromatically enchanting aroma of the bottomleaf, completely over powering it. "Strong tobacco," thought Sedoc, "is good for waking one up, that's for sure." The ranger paused, puffing his cigar, patiently waiting as the rest took in what they had said and considered their options.
Just then Carl returned with several snifters of ice. Though he preferred brandy at room temperature himself, the Lady Katsumi seemed to like it chilled. Earlier Carl had placed the brandy glasses slightly filled with water in the refer room where their proximity to the metal encased BROWN MOLD absorbed their heat, actually freezing the water. He gently poured the brandy into the glass, slowly letting it dribble onto the ice, cooling it for the mistress of the manor. Finally, he handed it to her and she gratefully accepted it as Garren's music started to play in the background, a soft melody. Occasionally, Janjit would accompany parts of the bard's music with his flute.
Gillmesh spoke next. "Mmm, Ahm nea to fond o' tha water," he said, referring to the ocean. But Katsumi's surprise seemed to take the lead. "I did not know you came from the northern lands, Sedoc. I am from there as well, the very capital, Katana, gem of the Asian Gulf," she said, almost happy to know another from her homeland. The ranger simply nodded, as it didn't surprise him since no one had really asked about him or Janjit as far as where they were from, with the exception of Trek.
General discussion ensues and the pros and cons are weighed, but the general consensus is that it looks like they will be going on an ocean voyage, possibly starting tomorrow. It is agreed to pack their gear and provisions and move to Alodar, getting several rooms for the night near the docks so they may depart on the morning tide. Sedoc took an extra box of bottomleaf cigars with him, and other last minute considerations were attended to and they are all soon out the door moving toward the imperial road to Alodar, fully expecting a short trip from Little Falls. Three or four hours of well-traveled, relatively safe highway lay before them.
The adventurers departed, leaving Carl alone in the room, not a scrap of food left on the serving cart or their plates, but no one had seemed to want more. He breathed a sigh of relief. If he had heard correctly, it would take ten days just to get there, ten to get back, plus however long they stayed on the northern continent. Carl could relax for at least a Scepter, possibly two. "Yeah," he thought, "if the stress doesn't kill me while they're here, I'm going to like this job." But Carl knew the surest way to lose such a soft gig was to abuse it, and he wouldn't do that. In fact, he'd make sure everything was perfect and waiting for them whenever they returned. It was, after all, why they paid him nearly 1 GP/day, plus room and board, even when they weren't home. Oh, he'd make sure, all right, and keep everything in tip-top, ready-to-entertain at a moment's notice, night and day, condition, since that's what could be expected. Maybe they'd be gone for a long, long while, or maybe they'd magically appear at the drop of a hat. You just could never tell with adventurers - and if Carl wanted to keep his job, he'd have to be ready to serve them, 24/10.
NOTE: 24/10 on Orlantia is like 24/7 here on Earth, but there are 10 days to the Pholar, so . . .
07/09/745 A.E. Getting on toward evening.
Alodar, the docks, a seedier section of town, to be sure. It was the sort of place where a man could get a knife in his back even with imperial guards on patrol less than a few blocks away. Too much traffic through there to keep it reigned in, too many people from out of town, and tempers sometimes ran a little hot. Four out five "untimely" deaths in Alodar occurred near there, the docks, even if most victims weren't technically citizens of the Empire. Regardless, if you were wise, you had to watch your back in such a place. Trekken was just returning to the Ferryman Inn from the docks where he had learned more details about the tomorrow's arrangements for the voyage. He no longer made of habit of walking around in his armor, and it suddenly occurred to him he was not well protected; at least, not as well as he had been used to, and in this part of town, that might be a problem. "Are those men following me?" he thought. He ducked into the nearest door to wait for them to pass when he could get a good look at them with a holy warrior's insight. It was only after entering did he realize where he had entered. An establishment simply called "The Pit." The music of a brass combo blared in the back ground and he glanced inside, slightly surprised to see a woman wearing next to nothing, and in the process of taking what little she was wearing off. Men surrounded the stage she danced on, drinks in their hands, grins on their faces, and she danced for them, their silver coins (sometimes electrum) being tossed up on stage to get a little extra special attention. Then the men outside passed the entryway, where the holy warrior turned his insightful gaze toward them. "Nope, nothing, no intent to harm me," he muttered to himself, detecting no enemies. He guessed it might take a little getting used to, this not wearing armor and feeling less than protected and less than ready for battle, but that would come, in time. He glanced back one more time as the now completely nude woman spread her legs for a man with electrum coins in front of him, leaving little to his imagination, the glassy-eyed look of a hungry predator upon his face, the obvious thoughts probably running through his mind. The priest of Thor really didn't object to such entertainment. The Norse Gods themselves were known to throw quite a few parties of their own, but he had better things to do right now. Quietly, he left The Pit behind and made his way to the Ferryman Inn.
The others had just returned from their little jaunt to the magic shop nearest the northern gate to Alodar. They had dealt mostly with the man they had believed to own the place, but as they departed they discovered it was a woman who actually owned that shop, and they laid eyes on her when she showed up just before they left. "Miss Kimberly," said the man behind the counter who had not given his name to the party, "I thought you were away for the pholar." She looked at the departing customers, then back at the man. "Plans change, Rolf, things happen." Before the party was out the door, she smiled at them, introduced herself, and expressed her interest in their return at a later date. Nice customer service and good PR, that's what it was. But then she went inside and they returned to the Ferryman Inn.
Several party members were off doing their usual things. There is a lot to do in such a large city. But most of them were gathered in two adjoining rooms, preparing to settle in for the night after they had supper, anxious to get an early morning start. Trekken entered then, a slight smell of the sea upon him, no doubt acquired when some harbor born salt water splashed on him as he boarded the A.I.V. Augustine.
Trek addressed his comrades. "The arrangements are all set, as far as I can tell. We ship out tomorrow on the A.I.V. Augustine headed north for the wastelands of Tor via the Asian Gulf. They are expecting us by 6 a.m. as high tide is at 6:12 a.m. and they will not tolerate latecomers. We cannot afford to be late." Gillmesh wondered at the three letter designation of the vessel. "A.I.V.?" he asked to no one in particular. "Alodarian Imperial Vessel," replied Trek, who had himself just acquired that same information a short while ago. Simply expecting most of their questions to be answered along the way, most of them turned in to get some sleep. The dawn will beacon soon enough.
07/10/745 A.E.
The haze of the predawn sun could be detected over the horizon, and Janjit began to stir. Long past time he had gotten up anyway, and the smell of coffee and other delicious things greeted him affectionately. "FOOD!" he announced. A man of few words when action was called for, he hurried down the stairs. The others, sleepy, followed to find the requested early-bird breakfast waiting. They would not have much time. Soon, they left the Ferryman behind, well fed, happy, and with a little trepidation despite the fact only one of them had spent any significant time at sea before. Garren had, while in his early days of training as a priest of Poseidon, though Trek had a few days under his belt. Katsumi had been at sea rather extensively, but she was not here, having spent the night elsewhere, but had assured them she would be on time before she had departed into the night. A light, warm, misty rain began to fall after they departed the inn and walked silently to the docks.
There, along a row of sailing vessels lining the eastern stone pier, Trekken pointed out the Augustine. "That's the one, there. She's a light, 'Dwarf Galleon'." He had learned earlier that the term 'dwarf' had nothing to do with that particular race, but referred simply to the galleon's diminutive size in comparison to her larger sisters, the Pegasus Class Elemental-Driven War Galleons. Though there was a variety of dwarf on Orlantia known as sea dwarves, who were apparently more buoyant than their hill or mountain cousins, they had little to do with this. Trek continued to look at the ship, his mind going over the few things he had learned the day before. Silverspar Class Galleon, they called her, a ship of 120 souls, so they measured her normal officers, crew, and specialist capacity. Except when her cargo was actually men, she would sport a captain, four officers, four petty officers, a cook, a carpenter, 2 cabin boys, 90 men and women, and 12 optional specialists, as well as 350 tons of cargo. One specialist was the ship's surgeon (First Aid 3). They would make up a few more of the specialists themselves on this voyage, but Trek had not exactly been informed of this "little" arrangement. From out of nowhere, Katsumi fell into step with them as they approached the Augustine. Katsumi Yuriko was dressed in oddly toned down commoner's clothing, wearing a cape of dirty black, breeches of brown, and a thick wool tunic, her hood pushed down to protect her from the misty rain.
Walking up the planking boards to the Augustine, they were immediately greeted by the 3rd mate, one Lt. Miriam Neval. "Welcome aboard. You must be the remaining specialist for this mission," she said in a matter-of-fact way. "You will each be sharing a cabin with one of the officers." Gillmesh spoke up, inquiring, "Were bein treated like officers? Are we expected ta hea any duties?" The 3rd officer smiled at the large, bald man. "Tonight, after we get well underway, you will be dinning with Captain Tracy as he explains your duties. Until then, let me show you to your cabins where you can store your dunnage, umm, your gear and personal affects." They all comply and are soon underway. As it leaves the Alodarian harbor, the rocking of the ship makes most of them a bit queasy, but they all manage to keep their breakfast down. The impressively tall tower, which stood upon a smallish island at the entrance of the harbor, rapidly fades as the dawn's growing light outshines it while the Augustine makes its way northward. Soon, even the lighthouse's focused Continual Lights could no longer be seen at all, but that was due more to the curvature of the planet than the rise of Gimarian, Orlantia's Sun.
NOTE: For reasons I won't go into here, Orlantia is a small planet, and the curvature of the surface puts the horizon only a few miles away (about 1/3rd the distance you might expect on Earth). Despite its small size, however, and for reasons most people will never know, its surface gravity is larger than earth's, at about 10 m/s^2. Anyway, it doesn't take a long time to travel over the horizon and lose sight of most distant objects.
All that day the party members are offered the opportunity to try this or that, perhaps pick up a few skills here and there while they acclimate themselves to life on board. Most of them find something to do, even Janjit, though he had to first settle his stomach with some special herbs for seasickness he had brought along, the concoction of tea he made with it seemed to ease his suffering.
Making good time (6 knots), so it seemed, they listened to the open speculation and scuttlebutt of the crewmen. The majority consensus is that they are going after pirates. This gives Gill pause, as it doesn't sound like what he expected to be doing at all. His concerns fade as Garren begins to play again, the sound of his instrument heard over the length of the many decks. Though not his best effort (rock, rock, rock, the waves were incessant, and that could throw anybody off), the men join in with the sea chantey and almost drown the bardic melody out, shall we say, obscuring any little mistakes he might make.
Lt. Neval came to get them as the sun began to set, escorting them to the officer's mess. Located in the bow on the starboard side and across from the armory on the port, the officer's mess and armory were slightly farther back from the captain's cabin farther up. The common hall joined all three, a door leading up and out on to the deck, left and right doors to the armory and officer's mess, straight ahead into the captain's cabin, and a narrow stairway leading down to the galley and other things below.
Though the ship technically had 6 levels, one was the crow's nest and another was the bilge, so they hardly counted. The other four decks were comprised of:
The hold (cargo, sails, rigging, personal storage, food and water storage, and the captain's secondary cabin were all there).
The main deck (the galley and refer room, the wood shop, crew quarters, and guest cabins all below ceilings, while the main deck was exposed to the open air).
The mid decks (where the captain's cabin, officer's mess, armory, all in the bow, and the officers quarters lay in the stern, all under ceiling, while there lay 2 separate deck sections exposed to the air, steps leading down to the main deck and up to the upper decks along the sides).
And finally The upper decks (the foremost and aft most exposed decks to the air, the very ceilings for the captain's cabin, etc., and the officer's cabins directly below).
Getting around this vessel seemed to involve a lot of steps. They asked, so they were informed there were 14 separate stairways to negotiate the Augustine's decks, though some were really out of the way and rarely used. It was not long before they became familiar with the major aspects of the ship, though the finer points continued to elude them.
They entered the officer's mess where a large table set with wide-bottomed mugs graced the tablecloth upon which they rode. A large, young man, blond hair, beard, mustache, a grin of confidence played over his visage, stood to welcomed them. "Greetings and welcome aboard the A.I.V. Augustine, gentlemen, lady." He eyed Katsumi, obviously impressed with her beauty, though Kat had other interests, to be sure. Introductions go around, compliments are paid to the ship, crew, and others, and a roast chicken meal is served with a light rose wine.
During the evening meal the captain confesses he is looking forward to his first command as 'captain', and he explains the duties to the specialists. Apparently, in exchange for the so-called "free" passage, the church of Thor arranged for them to be specialists in combat, should the need arise. The captain explains they are interested in finding out what happened to the H.M.S. Estovers, a ship belonging to the prince of Katana. Marluki, the prince, held reign while his father was in a coma, and who was not expected to recover. Marluki would soon be king of the Asian Gulf and their lands. As such, Alodar greeted his request for aid warmly, and the Augustine was dispatched to find out what had happened to the Estovers as well as several smaller trading vessels. Pirates were suspected, but no confirmation as to that suspicion had yet been discovered. A lower priority mission, magic had not been employed for various reasons, mostly economic - always consider the cost. The Captain explained each specialists was to be paid 1,000 GP when they reached Katana, even if they didn't meet pirates. In addition, they were to have 50% of any captured treasure for themselves, with the exception of any vessels taken, which would probably be sold and the standard and traditional 10% of the vessel's worth was to be theirs, though her cargo, etc. was a straight 50% deal. They all agreed it sounded fair, even if it seemed like they no longer had a choice, the clerics of Thor having already agreed for them. The captain also invited them to learn from his crew while they were aboard, and they accepted. Some cards were offered (A Game of Euchre), more wine, and the night passed away.
07/13/745 A.E.
A few days went by when the Augustine eventually reached the Larns Archipelago, a collection of Island states. Sailing past the island of Underlane, then the isle of Em, the Augustine skirted the coast of Hook's Island. The rocky cliff faces were close and could be seen as their white surfaces reflected the sun's light. Janjit, who naturally seemed to spend a lot of time in the rigging, spotted something odd approaching from the east. He could barely make it out at first, but soon it became apparent it was a large, bird-like creature. No, several of them. Wait, quite a few, actually. He called out a warning to those below. "Hello below! What kind of birds are those?" he bellowed. Captain Nicholas Tracy used his 'glass' to have a look, soon sputtering commands to his men to "Beat to quarters." The 1st officer (Lt. Commander Kirana Neval, Miriam's older sister as it turns out) called out. "They look like men with wings. Angles? No, but man-like, that's for certain. I see some things glinting in the sun. Perhaps weapons? I can't really tell yet." She put down her glass and started issuing orders, organizing crews, and passing out extra weapons from the armory (mostly shortswords and daggers).
A few of the adventurers run below and gear up, putting on armor and gathering their weapons. Soon, they are all on deck before the birdmen arrive. They are clearly under attack! Looks like two waves, perhaps 15 in each wave.
A chaotic battle ensues, up and down the decks and in the riggings, the officers, captain, and crew fight madly as the specialist jump in, taking the brunt of the battle and dishing it out in kind.
NOTE: Due to the length of today's chapter and the length of this battle, it will not be rendered in the traditional round-by-round format so as to save time and space, though it was quite a scene, I can tell you.
Sleep spells took a few birdmen down and they hit the decks, fire seemed to greatly annoy the birdmen, both wounding them and driving them off. Normally, they would fight until seriously wounded and then fly off, but here and there, they couldn't get away, having waited just a little too long to make that decision to flee. Crewmen died at the mercy of their dirty claws, and birdmen fell under the onslaught of Gill's, Sedoc's, Katsumi's, Trekken's and the officer's weapons. Garren, Jarmain, Janjit inflicted terrible damage as well, moving amongst them, softening up the birdmen's forces. A few close calls, but their healing spells and abilities patched their efforts, bolstering their cause, hacking into the birds, giving them better than they got. The first wave fell or ran, but the second wave was close behind, and some of these were even bigger and nastier looking.
Obviously the leaders of the birdmen, the second wave fought harder, stood longer, and hurt our intrepid adventurers more than the first. More crewmen died, and the 4th officer went down (though was subsequently saved by Jarmain). Trek waded into them with abandon, his spells exhausted; he had little choice at that point. Garren's blessing comes, perhaps turning the tide of battle, for even the crew suddenly had Poseidon on their side, guiding their daggers to cut surer and deeper while simultaneously warding off the ever grasping claws of the birdmen. In the end, only the strongest of the birdmen still stood, but they had had enough, turning to fly away. Swords, bolts, arrows, daggers, all swung out at their exposed backs. One more fell, but soon all that remained were in retreat. The battle was over. The specialist had earned their keep, their seemingly exorbitant cost of 1,000 GP each a trifle compared to the value of 350 tons of expensive cargo, trade goods and weapons, all of which would have been lost had they not been aboard and had not driven back the aerial assault.
Broken men lay horribly wounded upon the decks, the ship's surgeon rushing to-and-fro, desperately trying to save those he could. The first aid skills of the adventures also helped as they bound the wounds of the fallen, using what little magic remained for the more serious cases. When captain Tracy finally called for a damage report and the "butcher's bill," it turned out only four crewmen had lost their lives, though clearly a score of birdmen had perished, even if only a dozen of their bodies remained on board, the others having found their end in the boundless waves below.
Angered by the attack, after Jarmain had done all he could, he turned into an eagle (an ability of the priests of Zeus) and flew toward the cliffs. It was touch-and-go, but his courage proved sufficient as he gathered information, and a trinket, and though attacked, wounded, and chased out of there, he escaped back to the Augustine where the birdmen finally gave up their pursuit, having had enough of the reception accorded them from the crew of the Augustine. Janjit arranges the birdmen's bodies upon the deck, waiting to hear the captain's orders about their disposition.
Later, the captain confesses it was his inexperience that caused this. He wasn't thinking, and most experienced captains give those cliffs a wider berth. Get too close, and that race may attack, perhaps only defending their homelands. He had heard the stories before, but had underestimated the distance he should have kept between those cliffs and his ship. But, it was hard to be sure of their true motives for attacking. Self-defense? Greed? Whatever the reason, they might now think better of it in the future.
The A.I.V. Augustine sailed onward, continuing northward on her journey of discovery. Rest, healing, praying, and thanking the gods it had not been worse, was typical behavior from all. The suggestion that maybe the birds were the cause of those other ships' disappearance was, unfortunately, dismissed, as those ships went missing considerably farther north, into the waters the Augustine herself would soon be sailing.
SESSION ENDS:
© January of 2000
by
James L.R. Beach
Waterville, MN 56096