Skull and Shackles Interlude: The Eagle-Claw

"Good to have you back, Captain." 

Merrill Pegsworthy broke out of his reverie to acknowledge his First Mate with a cheerful grin.  "Good to be back, Mistress Loor."  The pause must have alerted her, though, because she eyed his expression closely, unconvinced.

"Somethin' happen?"

"Oh, no," he replied, gesturing toward the ship now receding into the distance.  "Tatsumi is well set up aboard the Kitsune--"

"The what, now?"

"Oh, some fancy of his, some kind of legendary fox creature, I understand.  But she is sound and on her way, as you can see for yourself."  This did not produce the desired response; if anything, Labella grew more uneasy.

"Are ye sure ye had no troubles?  We expected ye long afore this, truth be told."

Pegsworthy essayed a dismissive shrug.  "There were some troubles, but they were not ours.  Met some likely young folks with a newly-acquired ship; they helped Rickety fend off some sort of giant wasp attack.  So, of course we had to wait for him to clear up the mess and launch their ship.  Took a couple of days."

"New pirates, eh?  Well, they'll be in for some schoolin' if they think they can give us any trouble," she announced, somewhat to his chagrin.

"I doubt they'd want to, the first mate is Tatsumi's sister.  They seem like nice enough folks."

"Then the Shackles will swallow 'em whole and spit the bones."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, either.  They acquired their ship from that devil's son, Plugg.  You remember him?  Harrigan's Mate."

Labella spat on the deck.  "Not like to forget, me.  So he's dead, then?  Good, though I wouldna have minded doin' the job meself."

"From the sound of things, you would have had to outrun an arrow to do it, that archer of theirs is a fiend.  Never seen anyone shoot so fast in my life, and she killed Plugg herself according to Tatsumi's sister, spitted him right though his black heart!"  He grinned, bemused, causing Mistress Loor no small distress as she looked askance on her Captain's peculiar new mood.  "Must have been quite the sight!  Say, Labella, do I still have that Azlanti bow somewhere?"

Labella felt her jaw loosen as her heart seemed to writhe in her chest.  "The Eagle-Claw, Captain?"

"That's the one."

Her jaw sagged again.  "The one ye said ye'd sell t'buy an ISLAND if ye ever decided t'retire, Captain?"

"Yes.  Wherever did I put it?"

"The bow that's worth more than the Bonaventure and everything else aboard her, COMBINED?!  THAT bow?!?!"

Something in her tone finally seemed to penetrate whatever cloud Pegsworthy's brain currently occupied.  He glanced at her, his eyes sparking dangerously.  "Is there some kind of point to this inquiry, Mistress?"

Labella forced herself into some semblance of composure.  No matter how easygoing he was, one did not scream at one's Captain.  Even if he'd clearly lost his mind.  Perhaps especially not then.  "N-no, Captain."

"Good.  So where did it end up?"

"It's still locked in yer safe, Captain."  She felt faint.  She was going to faint.

"Go fetch it out for me, will you?  And have Pinch find me some sort of gift case for it or similar."

"Besmara save me!" Labella squeaked.  The end had come.  The Captain was sending her on an errand that meant telling the notoriously ruthless quartermaster that Pegsworthy intended to give away the single most valuable object he'd ever had in his possession.  There was no help for it.  If she was going to have the hide ripped from her bones she'd rather it happen trying to talk some kind of sense into her beloved Captain.  "Captain, ye know I love ye like me own flesh and blood--"

"That's kind of you to say."  His voice was flat, hard.

"Aye, Captain.  And ye know I've ne'er disobeyed yer orders, not e'en when I thought ye were lettin' yer kind and noble heart rule o'er yer sense . . ."

"Yes?"

"So, I'm beggin' ye, Captain, don't go givin' THAT bow to some . . . some . . . strumpet!"

Pegsworthy's breath hissed between his teeth.  "Mistress Loor, I cannot help but think that I must have misheard you just there."  Labella flinched and hid her face with her hands.

"Nay, Captain, an' it please ye, ye can have me flogged afore the mast, but by Besmara's tits and nipples there's such a thing as whores, Captain!"  She hunched, shaking, not daring to look at him.  There was a long, horrible silence.

"Oh, dear," Pegsworthy said finally.  Labella felt him gently put his hands on her shoulders and turn her to look at him.  "Calm yourself.  It's not like that."

"I'm sorry, Captain, I didn't mean . . ." 

He squeezed her shoulders.  "No, I'm the one who's sorry.  My mind was wandering and I didn't explain myself well enough.  I'm not looking to . . . um . . ."  to her surprise, he faltered and looked slightly embarrassed.

"Get yer buoy bobbed, Captain?" she offered, anxious not to let him get distracted again.  His face twisted, caught between horror and humor.  He blinked repeatedly then finally frowned, although it was clearly a struggle.

"Yes, all right . . . that . . . what you said, and thank you so very much indeed for putting that image in my head at this moment--"

"Sorry, Captain."

He massaged his forehead with his fingers and sighed.  "It is a bit . . . extravagant of me, yes--"

"A BIT?!"

"Watch it.  It is MY bow, Labella, I took it as my share, won it with my own hands and rather more of my own blood than I care to part with.  It's doing no one any good where it is.  I . . . I would much rather see it in the hands of someone I believe I can trust, who has the skill to use it for its intended purpose.  If I sell it, it'll just go to some rich merchant or, hah, 'nobleman' who'll put it in a case so he can gloat over it at his drunken parties, and that just wouldn't be right.  It'd be like"--he gave a self-conscious little chuckle--"like throwing away a man because there was an accident and he got himself a bit of a limp.  Anyway, I wasn't planning on retiring just yet."

Labella was sick with horror.  Like the rest of Pegsworthy's crew she took it as an article of faith that anyone who thought the Captain was less than capable for being minus one leg was an idiot, a poltroon, and the worst kind of blind damn fool.  For him to mention it himself, well, that was unthinkable.  "Captain, I . . ."

"No, it's all right, I understand.  I'm not angry.  Be a good girl and go take care of it for me, would you?  It's been a long day and I'd like to sit down."

"Aye, aye, Captain!"

Pegsworthy sighed again as he watched her scurry away.  She was right, of course, he was being foolish, and it didn't help that he'd spent several hours while he waited for the rendezvous in pleasant contemplation of exactly what Labella assumed he was contemplating.  Time to put aside unlikely daydreams and focus again on the main chance.  Or maybe not so unlikely, considering some of the things he'd heard about Mwangi tribals . . .

STOP that, Merrill Pegsworthy, you old fool.  Not old enough, apparently.  Not by a long shot.  Have you finally forgotten what honor is, that you'd break the only word you still have?  If you're a fool, ADMIT it, so at least you won't be a blind fool.  He'd made an oath to himself years ago, when he'd first stolen the Bonaventure and turned to piracy to support himself and his crew, that no matter what happened he would never, ever lie to himself about what it was he was doing.  He would never pretend he was not a killer and a thief, never claim he was a better man because there were some evils he still shied away from committing.  It might bring you the love and loyalty of your crew, but you don't buy your way into the Light by claiming that well, you weren't as bad as you could have been.  You are a pirate because you couldn't bear to spend the rest of your life saying you were a cripple, so before you go getting all stupid over some woman, Merrill Pegsworthy, remember that SHE is a pirate TOO.

He sat down at his desk and unbuckled the straps holding the wooden peg to the stump of his left leg.  It had hurt all day, a weird, phantom tingling that seemed to originate in the part of his flesh that was cut away.  Whenever his leg hurt like this he always dreamed that night of being whole, an Eagle Knight, a seacaptain in the service of Andoran, fighting for the sovereign People who trusted him with their liberty and lives . . .

Who threw your own life, the lives of better men than you, and all your works away like they were garbage, of no use to anyone . . .

It was why he still wore his Knight's coat even though it made most Shackles people uneasy.  Not to remind him of what he once was, oh no, to remind him of what he wasn't.  Without it, he feared he would forget and start throwing away the lives of the men and women who depended upon him.  He owed them better than that.

Still, sometimes you had to think first about what you owed yourself, he decided, and reached for a piece of parchment.  Dipping his quill in the bottle of ink, he began to write.

Madam--

You have not vouchsafed to me the right to address you by name, nevertheless I hope you will not feel it an imposition if I beg you accept this token of my goodwill toward yourself, your Captain, and his newfound ship.  In truth, I feel somewhat in your debt for the magnitude of the service you have performed in ridding the world of several men who befouled her with every breath they took, so in that light I hope you will accept this bow, the Eagle-Claw, that it might aid you in the prosecution of many similar works in the future.

Was it getting dark already?  And here he'd written barely a paragraph. And his leg was cramping.

While much of the Eagle-Claw's history is obscure to me, I do know that it dates from ancient Azlant and may even have been crafted by those fabled peoples.

There, that was safe enough, surely?

The sockets upon the grip were made to contain ioun stones, although of course any such they once contained are long gone.  Still, you may be fortunate and come across replacements in your travels.

Come ON, Merrill, you can't send off barely half a page with a bow like this.

Perhaps you wonder how it came to be in my possession.

Doubtful.  Oh, well, press on, press on.

While I cannot make such claims with regards to many of my acquisitions, the Eagle-Claw came to my hands honorably enough.  Some years ago we took a man aboard who was adrift in a tiny boat far from any land.  He was sun-struck and nearly dead of thirst, but he claimed to be the last survivor of an Andoran merchant expedition to the island of the Sun Temple, having escaped bearing only this bow, the Eagle-Claw.  Being of Andoran extraction myself, I was intrigued, and though the man did die almost immediately despite all we could do to succor him, I determined to make sail for this legendary island and ascertain the course of events there.

We were never to make landfall upon the island itself.  Long before we came even to the suspicion of land in the distance, we were viciously set upon by none other than the Wormwood, flagship as you know of the vile Barnabus Harrigan, and two of her sister ships who were in the process of stripping a vessel so badly damaged that her name and provenance were impossible to determine.  The resulting battle was a terrible one, for Harrigan seemed determined that no one should survive to bear hence the tale of this plunder.  Had not one of my other ships arrived, I have little doubt that the Bonaventure, along with myself and all hands, would now rest at the bottom of the Arcadian Ocean.  Since that time, whenever I have encountered any of Harrigan's ships they have taken every opportunity to do ill to me and mine, though they are restrained from outright hostilities in many cases by the will of the Pirate Council.

Having witnessed your bravery and skill and heard of your sufferings at the hands of Harrigan and his ilk, I had no thought but that the gods must will for you and this bow to be together.

Pegsworthy hesitated for so long that the ink dried in the quill and he was forced to dig out his pocket knife, trim the quill, and clean it before cutting a new point.

So, I hasten to carry out that will and hope you will look favorably upon me in the future when we might have opportunity to spend time together ourselves.

Entirely at your service,

Merrill Tantrey

"Gods," he breathed, staring at his signature.  That name!  He hadn't used that name in years, a decade even!  Yet here it was, coming out of his pen as if it were completely natural and right.  Scrape it off, some part of him hissed in panic, but no, it would leave a mark and who aboard that ship of lubbers would know, anyway?  Still, he must not lie and misrepresent himself.  Inking his quill one last time, he added a final word.

Merrill Tantrey Pegsworthy

There, it was done.  He set the parchment aside to dry.  The rest he could leave to Labella, before he thought too much more about it and really did drive himself insane.

Skull and Shackles Session 16: Good News

As a city, Senghor was a bit on the small side, but large enough that the Crisis brought little overt notice; they paid the docking fee and the officials became scarce.

"We should set a watch on the ship and allow liberty in shifts," Feruzi commented as the four chief officers surveyed the broad stone pier.

"Yes.  Do that."  Chopper hopped onto the gangplank and strolled onto the dock. 

Feruzi gathered up the crew and had them draw lots for watches.  She shook her finger at them in somewhat exaggerated admonishment.  "Do not get so drunk that you cannot return on your own."  She then passed around some spending money.  Leila came up for the first group on liberty, but swapped lots with Wrast.  This city did not seem congenial for maintaining proper philosophical distance.

"Time to stretch the legs," Reiko said, following after Chopper.

"Indeed," Feruzi agreed, Ezikial joining them.

Chopper had already engaged one of the dockworkers in cheerful conversation.  "Hey, you should join us, we're awesome pirates," he enthused.  Feruzi suppressed a wince.

"Perhaps we should look for a tavern?" she suggested. 

Chopper didn't seem to notice. "We took down Whalebone Pilk!  Hey, somebody hold up the broke-ass melted bell!" he yelled back to the ship.  The crew exchanged baffled looks and Feruzi waved them back to their work. She grabbed the back of Chopper's coat and began hauling him bodily down the street.  "This is not dignified!" Chopper complained.

"And shouting about our deeds on the docks, is?"

"Yessss?"

"No."

Reiko shook her head.  "Good luck," she said to Feruzi.  "I will return at dusk."

Feruzi deposited Chopper beneath a sign proclaiming the Sea Witch. "Here.  One tavern."  From the sound of things, it was crowded inside and the patrons were in a party mood.

"Oooh," Chopper brightened, straightening his coat.  Feruzi shook her head and smiled slightly.

"Give 'em hell," she said, opening the door for him with some ceremony.

Chopper strode into the common room.  "Presenting Captain Chopper!" he exclaimed.  "Me!  A round for the house!  On Captain Chopper!  Me!  Yaaar!"

"CAPTAIN Chopper?" a man called from a far corner.  "Stone the bleedin' crows!  Outta my way, boys!"  Feruzi stepped quickly in front of Chopper, squinting to make out the return shouter.  A broad-shouldered man pressed his way through the crowd.  As he grew closer, they could make out the blue Varisian scarf knotted around his head, and his huge grin.  It was Crimson Cogward.  He launched himself at Chopper and they pounded each other's backs hard enough to cause internal injuries.  Then Cog noticed Feruzi and Ezikial and became, if possible, even more delighted.  "Guys!  It's them!"

"Cog!  How the hells are ya?!" Chopper bellowed.

"Better an' better, now that we found ye lot!"

"Is the Wormwood in harbor?" Feruzi asked. 

Cog spat on the floor.  "No, an' good riddance!"  He took Chopper's arm and brought the three of them to the corner table where they found Jack Scrimshaw, Barefoot Samms Toppin, and Cut-Throat Grok.

"Huzzah!" Chopper burst out, seeing them alive and well.  "Make that two rounds for the house!  On me!  Chopper!"

"So how did you manage to get off that foul tub?" Feruzi asked once they were all seated with the drinks of their choice.  The four of them all tried to tell the story at the same time.

"We were in Bloodcove when Cap'n Harrigan heard 'bout the Man's Promise arrivin' at Rickety's Squibs," Cog explained.

"He was not pleased," Grok added, draining her beer in one gulp.  Ezikial, sitting next to her, grinned and pulled out a bottle, tilting it in her view until she recognized it, then poured her a generous dollop.  She grinned appreciatively in return.

"He were more mad at Plugg than he were at you," Jack said.

"Yeah, but it weren't like they brought the ship or the salvage back to Harrigan!" said Grok.

"Plugg was going to keep it," Ezikial said, shrugging.

"And now we are keeping it," Feruzi said.  "Same difference."

Jack nodded.  "Either way, we'd had our fill an' more of the Cap'n an' his notion of how to run a ship, so six of us decided to sneak out on the cutter after dark . . ."

Chopper glanced around.  "Er . . ."

"We didn't all make it," Grok explained, frowning.

"Fie."

"And we didn't all all make it," Jack added, holding up his right hand, which had two fewer fingers than the last time they saw him.

"Oh, Jack," Feruzi sympathized, remembering his carving skills.  He gave an eloquent shrug and Feruzi raised her glass.  "Here's to them for trying."

"For Shivikah!  And for Giffer Tibbs!" Cog bellowed, drinking off the last of his mug.  "And for whatever poor bastards Harrigan pressed to take our places," he added, pounding the empty mug on the table.

"We were more fortunate," Feruzi said.  "We had only one casualty.  Poor Owlbear.  Plugg cut his throat while he was chained up.  He had no chance."

"Bastard," Cog said.  "You done for him, though, right?"

"Yes.  I did."

"Scourge too," Ezikial added.

Cog pounded the table again. "Best news I heard in weeks."

"So, I take it you'll be joining us, then?" Feruzi asked.  They grinned.

"If you'll have us, Captain Chopper, sir," Grok said.  She turned to Ezikial and, weirdly, batted her eyelashes.  "You know, I heard a story that might interest you."  Ezikial raised an eyebrow and she leaned in closer.  "I heard about a gunslinger in these parts.  I was hoping it was you, but turns out not.  Gerni Stoneback, I think his name was.  They told me he had this gun with a whole buncha barrels on it.  Anyway, he went upriver lookin' for Koro-Koro about ten years back, an' never returned."  At the word Koro-Koro, the tavern quieted, then conversations slowly resumed.

"I have heard that name," Feruzi said.  "It is a monstrous beast, spawned by demons, that prowls the Mbaiki ruins."

"Ohh?" Chopper said, suddenly intent.  Feruzi shrugged.

"That is all I know of it.  Quite the bag for any hunter who could bring it down, of course."

"Did I not just say 'Ohh?'?"

"Feruzi heard you, and Feruzi is certain you would make quite the lunch for Koro-Koro.  But that's not going to stop you, of course."

"Bah, if it eats me, I'll choke it with my dying thrust!"

"If you want to go look for this beast, Feruzi will go. It is long since she had the chance to go hunting."

"The river is just around the cape, off Desperation Bay," Samms said.  "You could sail right up to the ruins, more or less."

"It would be a good exercise for the crew," Feruzi allowed.

"Certain death.  Small chance of success.  What are we waiting for!?"

Feruzi took their former shipmates back to the Crisis.  Sandara was delighted to see them all again and took it upon herself to get them settled.  Feruzi spent the rest of the day keeping her eye on the crew and doing what she could to find situations for the departing ex-slaves.  When Chopper, Reiko, and Ezikial returned in the evening, they made some rough plans for leaving the next day, but by morning it was raining heavily.  Reiko glared at the clouds for some time, then opined that it was likely to get worse before it got better.  They spent the next few days waiting in port, buying supplies, enjoying the fleshpots, and otherwise relaxing while the storm blew itself out.  Feruzi returned on the last day with a new outfit of clothes in the Sargavan style--blouse, waistcoat, knee britches, stockings, buckled shoes, and a coat for bad weather.

"What the hells?" Chopper demanded, seeing her.  "Reiko, have you tamed this savage?"

"What?"  Feruzi asked, mystified.

"Really, Captain?" Reiko demanded.

"Yes, really."  Chopper was agog.

Reiko sighed.  "Ms. Feruzi just decided to change her style.  Like you changed yours recently."

"I think it's stylish," Conchobar opined.

"It fits and is comfortable.  Also, it has pockets.  See?"

"Yes, this is very good.  Especially for something you chose without my help," Conchobar said, winking.

"Oh, well, I didn't want to trouble you."

Chopper shrugged.  "If the Head Concho approves, I must abide by his deep wisdom.  Think you could get her in some lace next?"

"I have a handkerchief.  It has lace on it. See?"  Chopper mock-swooned, gesticulating wildly.  The crew, taking this for some sort of symbol, cast off.  Sailing upriver was a tricky proposition, made trickier by the crew's general inexperience.  Feruzi spent most of the time at the rail, staying out of Reiko's way while she tried to get rudder and sails organized enough to make progress.  Kroop joined her, watching the jungle pass by.

"So what is a Mbaiki anyway?" Feruzi asked him.  "People?  Religion?"

"They were animal worshippers," Kroop said.

"You mean, animal spirits?"

"They had a great ceremony ta have some greater power grant 'em the divinity of animal form.  Th' whole tribe got turned inta jaguars . . . but then they couldn't change back.  Those ruins ha' been abandoned fer centuries. The neighborin' tribes treat any jaguars they see wi' respect. I reckon we should do th' same."

"Could this power they treated with be the source of Koro-Koro?" Leila asked, listening in.

"I wouldna rule it out, the jungle's as hostile as any place on Golarion.  They say he an' his pack hunt around the ruin, so if ye mean t' bag 'im, thass where ye should look."

"An' I was told that mixin' his blood with gunpowder would make it even more dangerous than it already is," Grok added.

"That would explain all this interest," Feruzi said, sitting back.

By late afternoon the lookout finally spied the forbidding summit of a great stone ziggurat, just above the tree line on the south bank of the river.  The crew looked anxious, not happy to be so far away from civilization.  They made the boat ready.  Feruzi fingered her bow and grinned.  It would be good to hunt again.

Skull and Shackles Session 15: The Ringing

Concerns about the Deathknell were set aside the next morning when they came across a fishing trawler floating low in the water, heavily heeled over on its port side and taking on water.  The sails flapped loosely and nets hung over the side, uselessly tangled.  Reiko

frowned at it as the Crisis drew slowly nearer.  "Captain, would you like us to check it out?"

Chopper scrubbed at his chin thoughtfully.  "Aye, maybe we can lend a hand."

Reiko changed their course and shouted a few brief orders to the riggers, bringing the Crisis around more or less smoothly.  The trawler's hull was breached on the port side just above the waterline; the waves were slowly swamping her.  The davits at the stern that would normally hold a dinghy were empty and there were no signs of battle or real indications as to what might have caused the breach.  Leaning out, Chopper made out the shape of the dinghy at least ten feet underwater, slowly sinking from sight.  "Dinghies don't usually do that," he commented.  "I'll check it out."  He promptly dove overboard and began swimming.  Reiko sighed as he dove toward the sunken dinghy, tapping her fingers impatiently on the wheel while she waited for him to resurface.  And waited.

"Oh, honestly," she grumbled.  "Best wake everyone, this might get serious," she told Lysaro, and dove in after Chopper just as he resurfaced and gulped air.

"Oh, hey, Reiko," he greeted her.  "What are you doing in the water?"

 

"Welcome back up, Captain," she said, sighing again.  "Just felt like going for a dip."

"Someone really wanted that thing sunk," he explained.  "Can't imagine why."  Reiko grabbed at the Crisis's ladder and hauled herself up. 

"We can talk about it back on the ship, Captain."   Chopper made no move to join her.

"I'm going to board the trawler," he called, and began swimming toward the other ship.   Feruzi appeared at the rail above and looked down at them, pointing at the distressed trawler accusingly.

"Did he do that?" she demanded, glaring at Chopper.

"NOPE!" he called back, continuing to swim.

"He's trying to get himself killed again," Feruzi grumbled.  Reiko jumped down and swam after while Feruzi rummaged around on the deck for a grapple.  "There could be some valuables about . . ." she muttered.  Ezikial came forward to help her with the rope and they hitched their way across to join Chopper and Reiko on the listing, unstable deck.

"I assume you have already noticed the problem with this trawler?" Reiko asked.

"It is lacking in the trawl department?" Feruzi offered disingenuously.  Chopper tapped his nose and pointed at her in acknowledgement of the feeble sarcasm.

"Still," he said, "there may be survivors or something we could salvage.  I want to know anything we can learn about our competition nearabouts."  He flipped open a hatch and dropped down the steep narrow stairs.

"If you insist," Reiko said.  "But I should mention that this mess has been cleaned up, even if they did a poor job of it."

"Really?" Chopper said, looking around just in time to notice four sahuagin emerge from the darkness.  One of them charged him and received his boarding axe directly in the center of its skull.  Reiko's katana whipped out and cut down another; the remaining two snarled and attempted to disembowel her, resulting in a brief, brutal melee and a total of four dead sahuagin while Reiko and Chopper sustained only minor bites and scratches.  Chopper surveyed the carnage, then abruptly reached down and snatched something. 

"Ooh, shiny," he commented, holding up a necklace made of a polished golden coral and a silvery metal with odd blue-black whorls, almost like the patterns in damascene steel, but of a different color and texture.  There was little else remaining on the ship--a larger raiding party had stripped it bare, leaving only these four behind as an ambush.  Chopper fingered the necklace and shrugged.  "Ah well, let's get off this tub 'fore it finishes sinking." 

"What ye got thar, Cap'n?" Fishguts asked when they returned to the Crisis.  Chopper frowned at the necklace.

"Took it off a dead sahuagin 'fore Reiko could get her grubby hands on it. Have you ever seen the like?""

"Nay, only heard tales. Thass deep platinum, Cap'n. All but unknown t' folk who live above th' waves."

"Not sure what you mean."

"It's mined from th' deepest ocean trenches, tainted by them poisoned deep sea vents - the black smokers. Only abbaleths, krakens, and weirder critters kin pull that up. I hear it has magical an' religious import t' the sahuagin..."

 

"Well, if they want it back, they can come take it," Chopper said.  "Assuming the Deathknell doesn't get us first."

As the day waned a great wrack of cloud spun off the Eye and swept across the sea, bringing high winds and a purple-black sky, forcing them to light the hurricane lamps even before nightfall.  The strained clanking of a rusty bell could be heard coming over the water.  Ezikial passed out weapons to the crew while Fishguts peered over the side.

"D'ye ken the tale o' Whalebone Pilk, Cap'n?" he asked.

"Bits and pieces," Chopper told him.  "Educate me, Mister Kroop."

"They say he took the whaler Belle Dame to see from Magnimar.  Sich was his success tha' they called 'im Whalebone fer leavin' naught else behind, an' they called 'is ship th' Bell, fer the way he rang it with such furor ever' time 'e seen a whale's spout."

"I appreciate it when there's a theme."

"Pilk chased a pod o' bowheads off th' shoulder o'Hermea, headin' south.  Beat 'is knuckles bloody ringin' that bell, chased 'em out t' see an' away from th' world, 'til th' crew mutinied.  Ol' Pilk had th' ringleader tied t' th' mast an' ordered th' mate t' lash 'im s'long's the Cap'n kept ringin' th' bell.  The mate's arm gave out afore Pilk's did.  Once the mutineer was dead, Pilk had 'im skinned an' rendered inna try-pot, an' nailed 'is skull t' th' mainmast as a warnin'.  Weren't long after when a huge bull bowhead rammed th' ship an breached 'er hull.  Pilk cursed th' whales and cursed 'is men and kept right on ringin' that bell all the way down ter the sea bottom, two thousand miles from land.  They say 'e kin ne'er rest 'til e's taken th' skulls o' a thousand victims."

"How long has this phantom been plying these waters?  According to the tales, I mean," Chopper asked.

"She set sail in 4631.  Ev'ry once in a while someone survives a brush wit th' Deathknell . . . even beat em off once or twice, but she always comes back."

"That long and he hasn't claimed his thousand?  Sounds a bit of a layabout if you ask me."

Kroop looked somewhat alarmed at this cavalier statement, and made a warding gesture.  "If they take us, they'll take us down t' th' processin hold, strip th' flesh from our bones, eat us, an' cut off our 'eads so our souls be damned wit th' ship."  He shivered a bit, then brightened.  "I seen ye fight some hairy stuff, Cap'n.  I figger if anyone got a chance o' gettin' us outta this, it's ye an yer friends."

"It's no worse than some of the jungle tribes," Feruzi commented.  Chopper turned to address the crew.

"You might, I don't know, get ready to be boarded by a cursed demonic ghost ship.  Seems imminent whether we want it or no," he said cheerfully as the bulk of a derelict whaler emerged from the gloom.  "Let's make 'er chase us, lads!"  Chopper yelled, drawing his cutlass and swinging it overhead with, if possible, even greater enthusiasm.

"On it, Captain," Reiko said from the wheel.  The clanking sound emanating from the ghost ship seemed to reach out toward them.

"Mister Hands, if you have the opportunity to take out that bell . . ."  Chopper called down to where Ezikial was working the ballista.

"Aye, sir!"

Despite Reiko's best efforts the Deathknell rapidly drew abreast them, the deck of the ghost ship crowded with rotting, bloated corpses that surged forward to the rail, eager to attack.  At the wheel, furiously ringing the bell, stood a skeletal monstrosity that could only be Whalebone Pilk himself. "STAND BY TO REPEL BOARDERS!"  Chopper bellowed.  Ezikial finished his adjustments and fired.  The ballista bolt shot true and struck the iron bell, nearly tearing it from its mount.  Whalebone fell to one knee, hissing, and grabbed a harpoon, launching it at Ezikial, who did not duck in time.  Hands spat out blood and laughed, pulling his pistols.  Whalebone gestured and a ghostly hand formed, reaching out as if to touch, but even this Ezikial shrugged off. 

Chopper hacked at the undead sailors charging him, staggering one that already had some of Feruzi's arrows decorating it.  The undead, while horrific, were not particularly efficient.  Reiko judged the others could handle this assault and took up a grapple to make an assault of her own.  She crossed to the Deathknell, followed by Ezikial who seemed little hampered, perhaps even a little invigorated.  Pilk raked at Reiko with his claws, marking her, but she yelled and brought her katana around in a fierce overhand chop, splitting breastbone and ribs.  Pilk wheezed in laughter.  Behind Reiko, Ezikial discharged his pistols into a crowd of undead crewmen, catching one in the head, another in the chest, shots that would have killed living men but merely hindered the zombies.

Chopper and Feruzi finished off the last of the undead aboard the Crisis, then looked around for more, spotting Reiko in her furious duel with Pilk.  She took off the top of the skeletal captain's head and his hat with it, while Ezikial struggled to keep the zombies at bay.  Anticipating Chopper's reaction, Feruzi almost managed to keep up as he sprinted across to the Deathknell and hacked furiously at the zombies.

"Reiko!" Chopper yelled.  "Get me that bell!"

"Forgive my insolence . . . Captain . . . but leave this . . . to me . . . and you . . . get the bell!"  She called back, fencing with Pilk.  She feinted, ducked a claw, and cut the skeleton's legs out from under him.  The undead captain fell to pieces.  The zombie crew immediately became inert, allowing Chopper to climb up and hack the bell free of its support--it was strangely cold and seemed to suck at his hands.  The Deathknell began to creak and groan beneath their feet.

"I'm thinking, abandon ship!" Chopper called.

"But, the loot . . ." Rosie complained, coming up behind them.

"Fair enough, collect what you can before this wreck sinks."

"We should have Sandara take a look at that," Feruzi said, grimacing at the bell.  They hauled their plunder back to the Crisis--including the ship's wheel per Chopper's orders-- as the Deathknell began sinking in earnest.  Sandara cast a spell and examined Chopper's prize.

"This needs to be destroyed," she said, then grinned.  "But if we do, Pilk and 'is ship will be destroyed with it!"

"Oh, where's the fun in that?" Chopper complained.

"I think it would be best, Captain," Reiko said quellingly.

"Dammit.  I hate it when you're right.  Soooo much.  Fetch me a hammer!"  With some effort and the use of the ship's forge, they rendered the bell utterly unrecognizable.  A muffled boom came from the sinking wreck as it broke into pieces and disappeared beneath the water.  Chopper shook his head.  "I can't believe no one has ever done this before.  No one breaths a word about how easy that was, am I clear?"

Skull and Shackles Session 14: Insights

Leaving Tidewater Rock, they sailed east toward Bloodcove, following Lady Smythee's advice on how they might locate slavers bound for Cheliax.  Chopper, in an ebullient mood no one could damp, took to singing a truly dreadful song of his own composition entitled "Gonna Put the Beatdown on some Slavers".  It had a surprisingly salubrious effect on the crew--they were all very excited to find work whenever he appeared in their vicinity.

In the waning hours of their second day at see, a ship suddenly came into view, crossing ahead of the setting sun.  The light made any details impossible to see, but the general lines suggested a whaler riding low in the water.  As the last of the light faded, the ship also disappeared from view.  Chopper frowned, rubbing the as-yet short growth of beard on his chin.  "That ship was moving directly against the wind," he commented.

"No doubt there are many strange sights in these waters," Feruzi said.

"Night-time assault?" he suggested.  "Save the whales!"  Reiko steered them in that direction, directing the crew at the touchy process of tacking into the wind.  The Crisis could manage a course about twenty points off the wind, but sailing directly into it ought to be impossible without magic.  Or possibly harpooning a furious white whale.  Who could say.  Ezikial set Rosie and Marteen to setting up the ballista on the deck with help from the burly Dar and Insawa, taking great pride in showing off the results of his hard work to the rest of the crew.  Ezikial in particular seemed eager to test out his new toy.  They found no further trace of the whaler, though.  Chopper shook his head, disappointed.

"Keep your eyes peeled.  I don't want to be caught with our pantaloons down."

"I think I would agree with you on that one," Reiko told him.  Sandara grinned.

"Not like this, anyway."

On the next morning, early, they spotted another ship in the distance, headed more or less in their direction.  "Let's check it out," Chopper said, yawning and chewing on breakfast, which was steadily improving in quality under Tolitha's motherly influence.  Even Fishguts was beginning to look, if not sharp, then at least a more genteel sort of disreputable.  A quick examination via spyglass revealed a schooner flying the Chelish colors.  She predictably altered course soon after they spotted her.

"Well now," Chopper said, grinning dangerously.  "That's just rude. Pursuit!"  The Crisis seemed to lean forward eagerly as Reiko set the wheel and the sails caught the wind, her keel carving gash into the waves and launching a great burst of sea-spray to either side of the bow.  The distance narrowed rapidly despite apparent frenzy aboard the Chelish ship, which was not armed for serious engagement.  Sloppy of them, really, but since the treaty between Sargava and the Pirate Council, they'd had little to fear--had being the operative term.  Chopper could make out a woman at the ship's wheel and about thirty sailors on deck.  No ship-to-ship weapons, only a few crossbows and miscellaneous hand weapons on display.  Still, there was an enormous box of some type amidships, near the mast, hidden beneath a canvas tarp that stirred occasionally, and not entirely with the wind.

Ezikial gave an order and Rosie hauled on a lever, causing the ballista to heave violently and expel a whirling length of chain that swept the decks of the Chelish ship like a scythe, mowing down rigging and canvas and seriously impeding their forward motion.  The range shrank accordingly.

"Don't kill anyone if you don't have to," Chopper ordered his crew as they assembled on the deck with grapples, boarding pikes, and other miscellaneous tools of the pirate's trade.  "The more people left to spread the tale, the better."

"Agreed!" Reiko called.  The crew looked a bit nervous at this pronouncement.

"If they hurt our crew, Feruzi will shoot them in the face," the sergeant added.

"Oh, well, that falls under the category of 'have to'," Chopper agreed, producing noticeable relief, watching three sailors rush to free the tarp from the box.  Or the cage.  They threw open the grate, and a snarling mass of claws, fur, and quills exploded out, taking wing directly at the Crisis.  "Oo," Chopper said.  "Capture that beast for me!  I want it!"  Reiko sighed as Chopper drew his cutlass and strode to the rail.  "C'mon, beastie!" he yelled.

The manticore seemed eager to oblige.  Frantically, Feruzi let fly with an arrow that sank deep into one of the massive flight muscles--not a mortal wound by far, but a painful and startling one.  The manticore seemed to rear in midair and dipped like a swallow, turning its dive into a tight, wary circle.  "Dammit, Ruse, you're spoiling my fun!" Chopper exclaimed.  Then the manticore's tail whipped, loosing a hail of barbed quills more fearsome than arrows.  Ezikial ducked behind his ballista, cursing while he continued to reload.  Feruzi wasn't fast enough, and a spike impaled itself in her calf.  "Dammit, Ruse, you're spoiling my fun!" Chopper exclaimed.  He sheathed his sword, still grumbling.  "Someone hand me a crossbow or something!"  One of the Chelish marines, taking aim, donated him a crossbow bolt, producing only a mild flesh wound, but dampening his enthusiasm just a touch.  Completing its circle and seeing Feruzi occupied with the spike in her leg, the manticore dove to the deck, mouth open and prepared to finish the job.  Chopper intercepted it with a two-handed grip on the cutlass's hilt.  The blow jarred his arms in their sockets, but the manticore reeled, dazed, and collapsed into a wheezing heap.

"Ha ha!  Captured!" Chopper enthused.  "Anyone who tries to kill it will be walking the fookin' plank!"

"Feruzi is NOT feeding that thing," she said with distatste.

"An' I ain't scoopin' its shit," Rosie added, dodging a bolt from another of the crossbowmen aboard the Chelish ship.  Feruzi gave up on the spike and let loose some arrows in return.  From the yelling, the men were not encouraged at their work, but not dead, either.

Reiko finished her maneuvers and the Crisis pulled abreast the Chelish ship, finally in a position where the crew could use their grapples.  Ezikial hauled on the pivot lever to swing his ballista around, then let fly.  The wheel post on the Chelish ship seemed to burst, knocking the Captain over with the wheel on top of her.  Cursing, she wriggled out from under it as her ship lurched sideways and the crew of the Crisis poured onto her deck, Chopper leading the charge.

"Surrender?" he offered, giving his cutlass a bit of a twirl to indicate the alternative.  The Chelish captain glanced around rapidly and seemed to be counting.  Then she threw her crossbow down in disgust and ordered her crew to surrender, something they seemed only too eager to do. 

Chopper sheathed his weapons and offered her a hand.  "Capital!  Let's talk terms.  Not to worry, this is likely to be the least unpleasant bit of pirating you will ever experience."  He directed the crew of the Crisis to search the Chelish vessel.

"We have slavers here, Captain," Ezikial grated after a brief inventory.

"Correction, Mister Hands. We have new crewmembers to woo.  And what would be your name, Madame?" Chopper asked the Chelish captain.

"Norva Wintarius," she growled.

"A pleasure, Norva.  But I see you've been very naughty indeed.  I'm afraid we'll have to relieve you of your cargo.  I will also be wanting custody of yon beastie.  I suspect, however, that I will need some care tips to get it to behave itself."

"The manticore is our slave, but if you want to hire it, you might be able to come to an understanding.  He likes to eat ferrets."

"Wait, it speaks?"  Wintarius gaped at him.  "That is AWESOME!"  Chopper bellowed.  He waved furiously at the crew.  "Lads, fetch me that cage!"  He turned back to Wintarius, donning his ash-tinted spectacles.  "I shall tell everyone that when the Crisis came, you handled yourselves with dignity.  Please spread the word of our derring-to.  A pleasure, Madame."

"I assure you, 'Captain', that word of your deeds will reach Chelish ears."

All of Chopper's features seemed to suddenly sharpen, a disconcerting expression on one normally so good-natured.  "I look forward to it."

Reiko and Leila directed the crew to raise sail.  Sundry housekeeping chores followed, with Ezikial taking on the task of tallying and storing their various plunder--goods, not riches, for the most part, but enough to pay the crew and keep the Crisis in provender and materiel for a month or so.  Feruzi saw to it that the (former) slaves were loosed from their chains, given food and drink, and given a section of the hold to bed down in.  It would be far from palatial or even comfortable, but it was a huge improvement over their former condition nonetheless.  Most were Mwangi bought at Bloodcove, with a smattering of others.  A few seemed willing, if not eager, to volunteer as crew aboard the Crisis.  The others accepted Feruzi's offer to work their passage to a safe port.

Chopper claimed the wheel of the Chelish ship and chipped the vessel's name into the wood, The Dowager Queen, and hung it over the side like a mixture of banner and trophy.  "It has to be really embarrassing to be successfully pirated without losing a single man," He commented.  "Now, where are we going to find ferrets?  Show me a port!"  He concluded, looking at his assembled officers, who had completed their chores for the time being.

"Welp," said Fishguts, who had appointed himself a sort of counselor in the absence of anyone more experienced, "I wouldna go takin yer booty back ta Bloodcove.  Summon might be right upset."

"I would definitely like to head to Quent, but only when we have time to spend several days there," Reiko said.

"What is at Quent that you wish to see?" Feruzi asked, curious.

"I would like to catch up with Captain Bloodmourn.  However, she may not be in port right now.  She is a leader on the Pirate Council, and I worked aboard her ship for a while when I first came to sea.  She will be a good associate for our rise into the council."

"Oh," Leila said, looking somewhat crestfallen.  "Interesting."

"So, Quent, then?"  Chopper asked.  Fishguts scowled.

"Mebbe better t'wait till we got a bit more reputat'n in these waters, Cap'n," the fat man mused.  "No offense ter Miss Reiko, but if yer goes beggin' after favers before ye've rightly begun . . ."

"Understandable.  Where, then?  Rickety's?"

"We have likely gained all we can there for the time being," Feruzi said.   Ezikial stepped into the chartroom and came back out with one of their few precious maps.

"What about Senghor?" he said, pointing at a city at the edge of the jungle, situated at a mouth of a river to the south and east of Bloodcove.

"What do we know about Senghor?"  Chopper asked.  "Are they, ah, pirate-friendly?"

"Friendly enough," Reiko said.  "And they have no love for slavers, either.  One of the very few truly independent cities, and determined to stay that way."

"Senghor it is!  Set the course!"

They ran before a freshening wind for the rest of the day, but as the sun began to sink below the horizon it slacked off.  By midnight, they were shrouded in chill fog, unusual at this latitude.  Feruzi handed the watch over to Reiko and hurried below.  Reiko walked the deck, her breath producing a fog of its own in the frigid air, and thought she could hear the dull clank of a ship's bell somewhere in the gloom.  A ship loomed into sight off the stern, its hull stained black and warped with age and rot.  Only the name seemed pristine, scrawled in pale greenish letters that almost seemed to glow.  Deathknell.  "That . . . can't be good," Reiko muttered to herself as the ship vanished into the mist.  The Deathknell was notorious throughout the Shackles, a ghost ship crewed and captained by the ravenous and unrelenting dead.  According to legend, she stalked her prey for two nights before dragging them down to a watery hell on the third.  She would have to tell the other officers . . . quietly.

Reiko's plans were delayed in the morning, however, as the manticore woke up in its cage, snarly and eager to spread its bad mood around.  The crew all scrambled away from it, taking cover as best they could.  Reiko sighed and approached, ready to dodge any quills.  "Good morning," she said.  "Do you have a name?"  It hissed at her like an enormous, prickly cat.

"He's awake?  Or she?  Never mind that," Chopper gabbled, rushing up.  "You talk?"  He tossed large chunk of ham into the cage.  The manticore sniffed it and growled.

"Morgus hate!  Stink!"

"Morgus?" Reiko asked.  "That's a nice name."

"No one hates ham, Morgie," Chopper insisted.  The manticore sniffed it again.

"Poiiiison.  Dead-meat."  Several nudges failing to inspire the ham to activity, the manticore sighed.  "Better than no-meat."  He gnawed at it a bit, then popped the entire ham into his mouth and chomped it down.

"There ya go!" Chopper said.  "Welcome aboard.  I'm hoping we can come to some mutually beneficial arrangement.  I can't believe Captain Norva just let us take you.  You're gorgeous!"

"Ss.  For slave, one-master same as other-master."

"Slave?  No, no, no, I don't want you as a slave, Morgul."

"Morgussss!"

"Captain, maybe if you would say his name correctly, it would help?" Reiko offered.  Then, under her breath, "Sheesh."

"My apologies."

Morgus pawed at the iron and wood surrounding him.  "If no-slave, then no-cage," he insisted.

"I just want you to hear me out," Chopper explained.  "If you don't like what I have to say, I'll open the cage and you can fly to freedom, wherever you like."  Morgus tilted his head.

"Speak."

"My offer is this: you join the crew, use your abilities to scout for us and help us in battle.  I don't know if you have any interest in treasure, but with your share of the plunder you can buy as many ferrets as you can eat."

"Hmmmm."

"Or, if there is something other than ferrets you would prefer . . ." Reiko added.  A low rumble sounded deep in the manticore's throat.

"Never bargain before.  Never offers, only orders."

"I'm not your typical Captain, mate."

"Want free," Morgus said. "Want free."  Chopper sighed.

"So be it." He opened the cage's release and stood back. 

The manticore, exhibiting surprising self-control, watched him clear off, then padded slowly onto the deck and stretched itself.  "Will not forget," he offered.

"It's been an interesting talk," Chopper told him.  "Fare you well."

"Will not forget," Morgus said.  Then he leapt into the air and made for the horizon.

"One fewer slave, anyway," Chopper muttered.  He turned to Ezikial.  "Mister Hands, feel free to dismantle the cage and repurpose the metal."

"Aye, sir.  MARTEEN!  ROSIE!"

"Captain, if I could have a word?" Reiko said diffidently.  Chopper blinked.

"What's up?"

"It might be best for Sandara and the other officers to hear this," she added.

"Yo!" he bellowed.  "All officers, quick meeting!"  They gathered in the chartroom.  Chopper looked at Reiko expectantly.  She controlled a desire to fidget.

"This morning, before dawn, I saw something, in the fog.  A ship."

"Oh, aye?" Chopper said.  "Our next quarry?"

"Not this one," Reiko told him.  "It was the Deathknell."

Sandara gasped, but Chopper grinned.  "Wow, to be the crew that exorcised the Deathknell?  Now, that would be a tale!"

"Probably a tale that involved our horrible deaths," Feruzi said.

"Ghosts usually hang 'round fer a reason," Sandara said, looking pale.  "I suppose if we could figger out what it was, we might be able ter get rid of em."

"We'd have to seek not to defeat the crew, but appease them," Chopper mused.

"Like you appeased the manticore?" Feruzi said dryly. 

"Morgus did not attack us," Reiko said.  "Even if he left, I would call that a win in our book."

"Even if we can't rid the world of Deathknell, if we could somehow ally with it . . ." Chopper continued.  Feruzi slapped him on the top of his head with her open palm.

"ARE YOU MAD?!?" she demanded.  "Chopper, I love you as my brother, but you go too far."

"I reckon' Whalebone's idea o' allies is invitin' us t' join his crew," Sandara said, drawing her thumb across her neck.  Reiko nodded at her and Chopper slumped.

"Not a one of you?" he said.

"No," Ezikial grated. 

Chopper sighed, holding his palms up in defeat. "Fine, another time when it's only my life on the line.  No sense of adventure, you people," he grumbled.

"We may not have a choice, exactly," Reiko said.  "If she is stalking us, the Deathknell will come again."  They all frowned in thought.

"Sandara, if you could . . . do your best to ward teh ship, I am sure we will all be eternally in your debt."

"I'll see what I kin do," Sandara said.

Skull and Shackles Interlude: Thieving

The winch raising the longboat was far too slow for Leila today, with the angry crew on all sides nearly breathing down her neck.  By the time they were level with the gunwhales, she could stand it no longer and nearly flung herself over the rail to clutch Feruzi's arm, startling everyone so badly that they nearly fell into the drink.

"You have to DO something!" Leila hissed.  She hesitated, then shot Reiko an apologetic look.  Reiko's eyebrows rose minutely.

"Is there some kind of problem?" the First Mate asked.

"I would say that there is," a harsh voice behind Leila grated as Serhet, the bald Thuvian, started to reach out to pull Leila back into the ship.  Leila flinched, horrifed, and Reiko's eyes appeared ready to shoot out black lightning bolts.  Serhet abandoned his boldness and shrank backward slightly and Feruzi climbed out of the longboat to look down at him.

"I believe you can handle this, Sergeant," Reiko drawled, lending her own hand to the grateful Leila.  Ezikial, Chopper, and Sandara followed, assuming various poses of relaxed but attentive interest.  Sandara grinned broadly, which seemed to unnerve Serhet even more.

Feruzi nodded to Reiko.  "So, what is the difficulty, then?" she asked, addressing Leila, not the Thuvian.

"He caught Simmed rooting through his gear," Leila explained, then raised her voice sharply when Serhet started to interrupt.  "And THEN he tried to gut the boy."

Serhet growled.  "SHE sought to protect the thief from his proper punishment.  There is no reforming a thief on the sea.  You cannot take their hand and brand them aboard the ship.  hang them and toss the carcass overboard for the sharks, that is the way."  Everyone was silent for a moment, staring at Serhet's missing hand, now replaced by a cunning hook that served him nearly as well.  To the man's credit, he did not shrink from this examination.

"Where is Simmed now?" Feruzi asked levelly when the edged silence seemed to have blunted sufficiently.

"I locked him in the chartroom until you got back," Leila explained.  "I didn't want to do anything . . . permanent . . . until you got back."

"Fetch him out, then," Feruzi said, not unkindly.  Leila unlocked the chartroom and discovered Simmed huddled in a corner.  By the marks on his cheeks and his swollen, reddened eyes, he'd clearly been crying.  She regarded him with distaste, wondering if Feruzi meant her to haul him bodily onto the deck if he resisted.  Slightly shocked, she realized that something had changed in her over the past couple of weeks--the impropriety of moving Simmed by main force weighed nearly even with the embarrassment of having to go ask Feruzi for assistance in front of everyone.  Not entirely even, certainly, but she at least had to think about it.  Who aboard this vessel would even notice or care?

"M-miss?" Simmed squeaked, scrubbing at his face with his hands as new tears threatened to spill over. 

"The Sergeant wants you," Leila told him, perhaps more harshly than she intended, but something about Simmed's preemptive cowering always irritated her.  There was something almost gooey about his helplessness that made her think of a jellyfish, drifting at the whim of every chance current, trailing tentacles concealing a painful or even deadly sting for anyone careless enough to draw too close.  It didn't seem like a calculated assault, but jellyfish were hardly calculating, either, and they consumed their accidental prey just the same.  Leila felt a flash of sympathy for Serhet and hoped that Simmed would not be the cause of trouble for him.  Feruzi's bouts of mercy and hard justice followed no pattern Leila could yet discern.

Simmed's mouth worked like a gasping fish, but when Leila gestured to the door and walked out he unfolded himself and draggled after her, blinking in the sunlight and shying so rapidly from every movement or glance aimed his way that he seemed to flicker as he walked.  Feruzi's eyes struck him like the gaze of a medusa--he turned white and stiffened like a marble statue.

"Well?" Feruzi asked when it became apparent Simmed wasn't going to volunteer anything.  Serhet made a huffing noise that might almost have been a hastily-concealed laugh.

"I-I-"

"The little shit stole my sunstones," Serhet growled.  "He stole from most everyone."  The rest of the crew made some muttered noises that seemed to indicate assent.  Oddly enough, Leila noticed, they now seemed more embarrassed by this spectacle than truly angry.

"I didn't!  I didn't!"  Simmed squeaked in panic.

"Then how do you explain my combs in your pocket?" Bellisan demanded.

"I didn't steal it!  I was going to put it back, put it back!  I just wanted to, to, HOLD it for a while!"

"Oh, there's a likely story," Serhet sneered.  "You should hang him just to put him out of his misery, the stupid sod."

"Noooooooooo . . ."  Simmed turned into a small heap on the deck, clutching his knees and emitting a wail appropriate to a teakettle.

"Give me what he stole," Feruzi ordered the crew.  They hesitated, but when she extended her hand imperiously a few small items--rectangular blocks of translucent crystal, some carved bone combs, a patterned silk scarf belonging to Conchobar--were produced and grudgingly handed over.  Feruzi weighed them in her hand for a moment, then reached down, located a hand in the heap of Simmed, and hauled it forth.  He recoiled from the objects, but Feruzi forced him to take them and then let go.  "You claim you were going to return them?  Do so.

"W-what?"

"Return them."

Simmed eyed Serhet, Belissan, and Conchobar in horror.  "I-I . . ."

"Now, Simmed," Feruzi ordered.  With positively glacial speed, pop-eyed and shrunken chest heaving, he extended each item to its owner, scooting away from them when they snatched it back and glared.  Feruzi nodded when he was finally finished.  "Good.  Now give me your dragon."

"My what?"

"Your dragon," she repeated, pointing to the wooden token he still wore. "You betrayed the Ship and it is not yours to wear any longer.  Give it to me."  He fumbled it loose with shaking fingers and passed it over.  Leila felt the mesmerizing quality of this performance and took a moment to glance at the rest of the crew.  Yes, they were utterly absorbed, poised to be set tumbling.  In one direction--or the other.  Feruzi turned sharply and handed the wooden token to Serhet, who started in surprise, breaking the spell.

"Now what?" he demanded, as brows furrowed and the crew shifted uneasily.

"That is up to you," Feruzi informed him.

"You mean, I can HANG him?"

Feruzi shrugged with magnificent indifference, drawing a leery look from Chopper and a deep frown from Reiko.  "He disgraced himself by thieving.  How complicated is that?"  Serhet looked at Simmed, but it was plain the one-handed Thuvian was simply baffled now, bloodlust nearly exorcised.  Feruzi allowed a long moment of hesitation, then added, flagrantly casual, "Of course . . . who is to say how you might disgrace yourself in overreaction to it?  Petty spite seems a poor exchange for your honor."

"We're pirates, we have no honor."

Feruzi snorted.  "You imagine honor is so feeble a thing as to be chased away by a word?"

"Are you saying . . ."

"I?  Saying?"  The offhand manner abruptly vanished and the medusa glare came out, along with a tone sharp as broken glass.  "Actions have consequences.  For you as well as for him.  The remedy you would offer is one you, too, must swallow else you be butcher, not surgeon."

Serhet's confusion seemed almost outraged, now.  "WHAT then?  Flogging?"

"Oh, so you think stripes make a man trustworthy?" she mocked him.

"So what would  YOU do?"

"It is not MY decision!" she roared.  Then another of those quicksilver changes in demeanor.  Leila found herself beginning to smile.  Feruzi's sudden changes of mood had seemed intimidating, before, but now she was starting to see the larger picture.  Reiko was far better at convincing people to do what she wanted, but Feruzi somehow got them to convince themselves and view Feruzi as actually in the way, so when she LET them do what she wanted, they took it as a FAVOR.  Leila didn't know whether to cheer, laugh, or simply stare in horrified realization.  Could someone wield ambivalence like a weapon?  Maybe so.  Feruzi was speaking again, her tone now gentle and even. "I suppose, if you ask, I would say that Simmed steals out of fear.  If he wanted my trust as a member of the crew, he would have to prove first that he could be brave."

"Brave?  Him?"  Serhet scoffed.  Feruzi shrugged again.

"Stranger things have happened."

Serhet considered for a long moment, fingering the dragon token. Then an evil look grew in his eyes, and he wadded it up in its ribbon, leaned far back, one leg rising from the deck to balance his outstretched arm, and seemed almost to pirouette, his hand ascribing an enormous arc nearly down to the deck.  The token sailed away like a flying fish.  "Go fetch, boy!" the Thuvian crowed to Simmed's expression of utter horror.  Leila shook her head as Simmed cast about in a puppy-like appeal for sympathy or aid from someone, anyone.

"Best hurry," Feruzi said, pitiless, as his gaze slid over her, too frightened to truly rest, but still hopeful.  Finding no help, Simmed crept to the rail and stared over.  One button at a time, he undid his ragged shirt.  He owned no shoes and had only a bit of rope for a belt, so there was no more delaying.  With a final, desperate swallow, he jumped, or rather, flopped, into the water with a tremendous splash.  Leila started toward a rope, wondering if he would even come back up, but after a moment she spotted him, moving in a determined if inexpert dog-paddle away from the ship.  She sighed in relief.  Feruzi watched for a moment with a satisfied expression, then turned to Serhet and pointed with her chin at the dinghy.  "Help him."

Serhet looked bemused.  "The devil you say?"  Feruzi let her eyebrows rise slightly.  "Fine," the Thuvian growled, rolling his eyes, and went to lower the tiny craft.  Leila smiled and shook her head.  Was it really any surprise to watch Simmed struggle to the very end of his fading strength after a simple wooden token?  To watch Serhet try and pull the boy out before Simmed drowned, while Simmed tried to fight him off?  To watch Serhet give up and jump in to help Simmed cross the remaining distance?  To watch Simmed return to the ship, half-drowned but triumphant, and have his back slapped companionably by Serhet?

Not really, she decided.

Skull and Shackles Session 13: Breaking-in

It would be three days, Leila estimated, before they could reach Tidewater Rock.  Well, three days with an ordinary crew, but there was really no telling with this bunch.  Feruzi, Ezikial, and Reiko had spent an hour in the chartroom, dickering like fishwives, and come up with an organizational plan of sorts.  At some point they decided to saddle Leila with the moony Lysaro to be her assistant and hopefully learn navigation, a discovery that had Leila feeling just a bit disgruntled this morning.  Lysaro had already called her a delicate flower in addition to a dusky gemstone and something involving a deep well that may have actually been obscene if she felt any desire to decipher the poetic extravagance.  Fortunately for her sanity and Lysaro's continued survival, this appeared to be an ingrained reflex and not actual flirting; he'd settled down once she set the charts on him and made him try to calculate their position.

They left the Slithering Coast behind rapidly; the wind was cooperative even if the crew wasn't.  By evening, everyone on the ship was exhausted and sought their hammocks without even a token attempt at socializing.  Or, almost everyone.  Ezikial was just drifting off in his peaceful corner when he heard voices and saw a light flickering.  Hoisting himself up, he saw Feruzi, Rosie, and Cochobar gathered outside the door to the crew quarters.  He blinked repeatedly at the sight until he realized that the peculiar shadows were caused by elaborate designs in black and white paint.

"We're not going to hurt anyone," Feruzi said, "just scare them a bit."  Oh, whatever THIS was, it was BOUND to be entertaining.  Ezikial clambered out of his hammock to get a better view just as Feruzi gave a blood-curdling shriek and threw open the door to the crew quarters, vanishing inside.  Rosie and Conchobar followed with their own yells and some truly horrific fiddle-screeches guaranteed to wake the neighbors, the dead, and quite possibly the dead neighbors as well.  A series of yells, thumping noises, and heartfelt curses followed. 

Ezikial considered a moment, then selected a heavy wooden block that he used as a sort of tooling platform and shoved it across the deck and into the crew quarters.  Feruzi had the newbies arranged around her in a rough semi-circle, while Rosie and Conchobar performed a hair-raising ditty.  The crew eyed Ezikial, but he ignored them, pushing the block into a prominent position and then leaving again through the door.  He picked up a heavy fire axe.  The breathless silence when he returned and casually brought the axe up over his shoulder, sending it biting deep into the wood without apparent effort, nearly made him smile.  Feruzi seemed a little alarmed at this performance, but rallied magnificently.

"New shipmates of the Crisis, you have joined us all for different reasons, for adventure or pay or a change of work, but now that you are aboard there is one thing you must learn before all others: whatever your personal wishes, whatever your history, whatever your crimes against men or their crimes against you, the ship has you now!  You belong to her, and whatever she needs, you must provide.  You must heed the words of her master, for only by doing so can you become a crew and not a mob, and the ship needs a crew to tend her.  If she sickens, it is you who must cure her, for if she perishes, you all perish with her.

"The Crisis is a ship reborn, but she still has a history, and as her crew you should know it."  Here Feruzi produced a battered and worn manifest that Ezikial recognized after a moment as the journal of Arron Ivy from the Infernus.  "Here is our first caution--the tale of a crew gone to wrack and ruin."  Speaking in measured, sonorous tones, she read out the record of the last days of the Infernus.  She then produced a suspiciously familiar cat o' nine tails.  "Here is our second caution--the tale of Mr. Plugg."  She then recounted a somewhat abbreviated version of the mutiny aboard the Man's Promise.  Placing those two items aside, she produced a black cloth bag and shook it, producing an ominous rattling noise.  "So now you know the fate that awaits if the crew should fail.  It lies in your hands, by your choice.  So come, step forward and take hold of your fate!"  She shook the bag again.  "Who will choose first?"

Dar, the big scarred brawler, stepped forward with a faint sneer.  "I will."  Feruzi cocked an eyebrow at him and extended the bag, but when he reached toward it she suddenly jerked the bag and gasped out. "Careful!  Don't want it to bite you!"  Dar recoiled violently, belying the sneer and receiving a few knowing chuckles and a broad gummy grin from the ancient and withered Tenchin, who seemed to be enjoying the proceedings immensely.  Somewhat deflated, Dar thrust his hand into the bag and came out with a carved wooden token portraying a snake.

"Excellent," Feruzi said, taking the token from him and affixing it to a length of cloth.  "You shall have cunning and viciousness when you need them."  She bound the token to Dar's arm above the impressive bicep muscle, then clapped him on the shoulder.  He eyeballed her for a moment, then shook his head.

"That's actually . . . kinda neat," he grated.  Feruzi bared her teeth at him and turned to the rest of the crew, who lined up cheerfully to accept their tokens, all except for Simmed, who shrank shivering against the wall when she extended the bag.

"I . . . I don't . . ."

"You are as much a part of this ship as anyone," Feruzi told him, her voice stern but her expression gentle.  "For is it not said: if we do not hang together, we shall surely hang separately."

"You can do it, kid," Dar said unexpectedly.

"Yeah, Sim, it's just Feruzi," Matty added.  "Er, Sergeant Feruzi, I means."

Etto sniffed.  "Humans."

Simmed actually glared at the elf for a fraction of a second.  Rolling up his sleeves, he took a deep breath and darted forward, grabbing something and retreating again.

"Let me see," Feruzi told him, and gently pried the token from his clenched fist while he panted for air.  "Ah, the dragon!"

"E don' look much like a dragon!" Kulio shouted, and everyone laughed.

"Appearances may be deceiving.  Hatchlings are rarely fearsome things," Feruzi said, hooking her elbow up under Simmed's arm to make him hold still while she attached the token.  "There!  And all your arms and legs still attached."

"S-sorry, miss . . ."

Feruzi turned away from him, a clear gesture of dismissal.  "Back to your bunks, all of you.  Long day tomorrow."

Chopper appeared the following morning when Feruzi was trying to un-rig an unfortunate snarl caused by someone using the wrong knots in exactly the right spot.  "Hey there, what are all the crew talking about?" he asked, glancing around at his officers.  "Something about a bag?"

"Ask Feruzi, Captain," Ezikial volunteered. 

Feruzi tried vainly to conceal a smirk.  "Feruzi does not know what you could mean," she insisted.

"H'oookay," Chopper said.  Feruzi pulled a token on a string out of her pocket and deposited it over his head.

"You will need this, however."

Chopper's eyes crossed slightly as he tried to examine the piece of wood.  It appeared to be some kind of bull, snorting smoke as it trampled on  . . . was that pottery?  "Weirdo bloody savage," he muttered, wandering away. 

With the crew gradually coming into shape, they decided to continue sailing at night, Feruzi taking the third watch until Reiko arose in the misty dawn to relieve her.  The night seemed peaceful enough until a woman's scream split the air from far forward.  Feruzi had taken a total of two steps when a toothy maw nearly enveloped her face.  She stumbled back and felt her cheek tear as the teeth snapped together, and then she was fighting for her life against two massive fish-men.

The hatch flew open and Ezikial erupted onto the deck.  "Arise and arm yourselves!" he bellowed, firing both pistols at once toward something near the foredeck.  "We are beset!"

Feruzi took several more minor wounds before she managed to get free of her attackers, then she peppered one with arrows and left it writhing on the deck.  The other hissed and jumped overboard as Chopper emerged from his cabin, axes in hand.

"SITREP!!" he bellowed.

"Fish-monsters, Captain," Feruzi panted.  "Someone screamed."  Chopper hurried forward, to find Ezikial crouched over Matty, desperately trying to staunch the gush of blood from the young woman's opened stomach.

"Fetch Sandara, this may be beyond my skill," he said.  Feruzi ran off to get the surgeon as Reiko arrived.  "Search the ship, see if there are any more," Chopper instructed her.  A search of the compartments and headcount of the crew turned up nothing else--apparently it was an attack of opportunity, not a full-scale assault.  Sandara prayed over Matty and managed to staunch the bleeding, so Feruzi picked the young woman up and carried her back to quarters.

"Sergeant Feruzi?  Is it... is it always like this?"  Matty asked as the Master at Arms tucked her in.

"Always?  No.  Sometimes it is much worse.  You did well--your shout roused the ship before the fish could do much damage.  We are in your debt."

Matty winced a little at this slightly edited description, but she didn't dispute it.  "Thank you . . . all of you . . . for saving my life."

Feruzi grinned.  "That is what shipmates are for.  Get some rest.  Light duty for you tomorrow."

The ship was almost cheerful the next day.  Fishguts directed Tolitha to serve up rashers of candied ham that he'd snuck on board, and Matty blushed and mumbled under the praise for her bravery and quick thinking.  Perhaps emboldened by this, Dar became a bit overbearing toward the tiny but ferocious Riis, but she resolved matters decisively by twisting his arm up his back for him before anyone had to intervene.  Feruzi held a brief shooting match with Etto and Marteen and gave them a few pointers with their favored weapons.

Early the next morning, Haroud called land and they drew up at a tiny island, maybe two miles long by one wide and almost entirely surrounded by rough shingle and gravel beaches.  It was less of a tropical retreat and more a fist of rock, brutally outthrust in a challenge to any who might draw near.  A narrow channel squeezed between two piles of jumbled boulders and ended in a lagoon wide and deep enough to hold three ships of the line.  A fortified stone tower, seventy feet if it was an inch, loomed above, commanding the entire lagoon--there was not a stretch of water or beach as much as an inch wide that could not come under brutal fire at the slightest hint of violent intent, yet aside from the Crisis, the lagoon was empty and seemingly had been for some time.  Chopper examined the tower with his spyglass.

"Hm, they have a watch.  They've spotted us.  Then again, how could they not?  He's pointing a crossbow at us!"

"Who are they, other pirates?" Feruzi asked.

"If so, they appear to be in the market for a ship.  You guys wanna bother these folks?"

"Well, that is why we came."

Chopper put the spyglass into his pocket and gestured toward the nearest crewmembers.  "Lower the cutter, lads, we're goin' ashore."  After a brief discussion, Leila was left on board to mind the ship while Chopper, Reiko, Ezikial, Feruzi, and Sandara took the cutter in for a landing.  By the time they drew up on the shingle, six people were watching them from the battlements with various bemused expressions.

"Ahoy, there!" Chopper bellowed.  "Nice . . . rock."

"Ahoy!" called one of them, a middle-aged man with a mustache impressive enough to be visible even at this distance.  "That is close enough.  Welcome to Tidewater Rock."

"We're gonna need a bigger cannon," Ezikial muttered under his breath.

"My thanks, sir.  I am Captain Chopper of the Crisis.  These are my loyal crew."  Sandara made an awkward moue halfway between a bow and a curtsey.  Beside her, Feruzi crossed her arms and looked fierce, creating a stark contrast.

"I am Sergeant-at-Arms Royster McCleagh.  What is your business here, Captain Chopper?"

"Ah, as to that.  We're here to take the Rock, aye?"  Chopper sounded almost apologetic.  McCleagh laughed.

"Oh, have you now?  All five of you?"  The blond woman standing next to him smacked him on the shoulder.  "Tidewater Rock has stood against entire fleets, Captain Chopper.  I don't mean to insult you, but, well, it is quite funny."

"Well, we have a few more aboard if it comes to that.  Be that Smythee's widow?  I apologize, madame, I have not heard your name."

The woman leaned past McCleagh to peer down at them.  "Aye, I am Lady Agasta Smythee, and I am pleased to meet you, even under these awkward circumstances."

"A pleasure, truly," Chopper said, bowing formally.  "Kindred spirits we are, I'd wager, y'see, this crew is not overly fond of one Barnabas Harrigan, and we mean to take him down as soon as the opportunity presents itself."

Lady Smythee leaned on the battlement, a move that did interesting things to her bodice.  "Is that so?  It's always good to meet people with similar interests."

"Aye, madam, I feel the same.  If you are keen, we'd be pleased to discuss this further, say, over dinner?"

"Mm, tempting, but I am so reluctant to open my doors to strangers these days.  We seldom get company of the desirable sort."

"M'lady," Reiko piped in, "I understand your hesitation as we have already stated that we intend to 'Crack the Rock', but the truth is, we are only seeking the renown associated with such a deed.  I am sure we could arrange a situation of mutual benefit."

A smile formed on Lady Smythee's face.  "Very well, I invite you to dine with me, but on one condition."

"Name it," Chopper said.

"To ensure good behavior all around, you must present one of your number as a hostage.  They will be well-treated as long as your intentions remain peaceful."

"I will do it," Feruzi said.  Chopper nodded to her.

"As you wish."

"What is your name, Miss?" Lady Smythee called.

"Feruzi, Madame."  She glanced sideways at Chopper.  "Do not force me to punch my way out through the walls.  I would be at it for months, and my hands would get sore."

"Whiner," he retorted succintly.

"Miss Feruzi, leave your weapons behind and come to the door.  The rest of you, stay well back, lest we be forced to take . . . steps."

Feruzi pouted at her bow for a moment then handed it with her arrows to Chopper before making the long walk up to the door and gate arrangement.  "Besmara go with ye," Sandara called after her.  A few minutes passed, then a small postern gate creaked open and McCleagh emerged with a couple of guards.  Feruzi followed them inside and the door creaked shut.  Several minutes later, the door opened again.

"Please, come in," McCleagh invited.  Chopper started to hand over his weapons, but McCleagh shook his head minutely, leading them up to the fourth floor, to a room filled by a long oak table set for a meal.  Lady Smythee stood at the head of the table and sat down when they arrived, motioning for them to do the same.

"I am impressed, you have made a home of this place," Chopper said, tipping his hat and then placing it on the table next to his plate.  Lady Smythee gave him a long, appraising look, then sipped from her glass.  Reiko and Sandara sat across from each other, but Ezikial took up a position behind Chopper's shoulder.  The Captain narrowly avoided rolling his eyes, but he decided it wouldn't accomplish anything to argue.  Ezikial seemed to be channeling the absent Feruzi and would probably obey orders as it suited him and not as it suited Chopper.

"So, where were we?" Lady Smythee asked.  Chopper smiled as pleasantly as he could.

"Discussing how we might help one another in dispatching Harrigan and his ilk."

"I cannot deny that avenging my late husband on that vile sea-snake holds great appeal, but make no mistake, Captain, I have no intentions of yielding my sovereignty over Tidewater Rock."

Chopper nodded.  "Harrigan press-ganged us onto the Wormwood.  We are here now because his first mate, Plugg, found the acquisition of a new ship too much for his honesty--if he had any to begin with--and made off with it.  So we returned the favor.  I can appreciate your stance--I would hardly sit still if anyone now tried to take the Crisis from me.  I have no wish to unseat you, but it is my understanding that you are now less . . . mobile than previous.  That is where we can lend a hand.  Or twenty."

"Harrigan has cost me much of what Iron Bert once held, yes."  Food began to arrive--boiled crab, buttered sturgeon, goat cheese and hard bread.  Sandara went to it with a will while Reiko and Chopper nibbled politely.

"We are new to these waters, and you have experience.  You could suggest targets that a green crew might be able to handle, and in return, we can begin to rebuild your power base."

"My knowledge of the pirate ways isn't what it was, but it may be of use to you, yes."  Lady Smythee leaned back in her chair, considering.  "This does seem mutually beneficial, but is it enough for you?  Don't you want to tell people that you 'cracked the Rock'?"

"Madame, the paint is not even dry on the escutcheon of my ship.  I need renown however I can get it, and I am in no position to be picky when given a valuable opportunity.  If it concerns you, I have no fewer than two bards on my vessel who would be more than happy to concoct some sort of useful fiction to inflate both of our reputations.  Besides, I can be patient.  Perhaps as part of our arrangement I could become heir to the Rock some day, should you ever find its walls confining."

"Perhaps," Lady Smythee said, her eyes twinkling.  "Some arrangement might be made.  Marriage under Shackles Law is often used for purposes of this kind."  The conversation came to an abrupt halt as Sandara suddenly sprayed wine across the table over Reiko.  The Tian woman sighed and with great delicacy picked up her napkin and began to dab herself clean.  Sandara shrank down, embarrassed.

"That is an interesting . . . proposal," Chopper drawled, donning his ash-tinted spectacles.  He saw a faint shadow pass over McCleagh's face.

"I would prefer to wait, of course," Lady Smythee added, "until you've made more of a name for yourselves."

"Of course.  I wouldn't want to step on anyone's toes.  'Cept Harrigan.  Bugger that guy."

 

"But it would give you a claim to Tidewater Rock without compromising my own.  For, let's say, a year."

"That should prove sufficient," Chopper said.  "I knew coming here was a good idea.  To profitable alliances!" he said, raising his glass and then draining it.  Lady Smythee nodded and raised her own glass in salute.