"Run us over starboard a bit! I said starboard! STARBOARD!!!" Pyxes bellowed. Ionni hastily reversed the rudder, but it was
too late--the newly-renamed Strife crunched to a halt on the gravel. "Ye silly bitch, don't ye know what
starboard means?!
"I be knowing yer words full well, ye yam-blasted
scummat, but wich way be I turnin yon thingy?"
"WHAT did you call me?!" the half-orc oarsman
demanded. The drekar rocked violently as
he struggled to get to her past the other crew.
Ionni shrank back at first, but she sensed the disdain from the other
remnants of Svard's crew at her display of weakness. Her eyes narrowed as she sought backup. Pellal was solid, as always, and Kuun could
be relied upon not to back down from a fight.
The other two former slaves were unknown quantities. Salmonix was temperamentally unstable, a
combination of his elvish ancestry and long indenture; he was the only one
among them who was born a slave. That
left Vrinege, the Mwangi pygmy. Even her
facial expressions were indecipherable.
She sat in the rigging with the halfling triplets from Svard's crew,
Knotte, Knoose, and Knobbe. Ionni
glanced at them and was surprised to see Vrinege grinning widely and the
halflings making surreptitious gestures of encouragement. It made sense, though--Pyxes was the largest
of the oarsmen and appeared to lack any vestige of a sense of humor.
Heartened, Ionni straightened up and unleashed a torrent of
abuse. "I called ye yam-blasted, ye lank-haired, slime-breasted,
rot-breathed turd o' a scurvy rat! E'en
the fleas won't bite yer filthy carcass, ye spindle-shanked, cork-eared,
limp-knobbed blighter! Ye . . ."
"I'LL KILL YOU!!!" Pyxes bellowed and charged
across the remaining deck. Ionni ducked
and Pellal stuck out a foot, tripping the half-orc, who went over the
side. Pyxes grabbed Pellal as he went
down and they fell overboard together.
Ionni jumped on the struggling men and began viciously kicking any part
of Pyxes that was available. In seconds
the melee became general, with the other oarsmen rushing to Pyxes aid. They never reached him, however; the sail
came down and flattened them to the deck.
"What are they doing?" Reiko muttered, taking out
the spyglass she'd inherited now that Chopper had a magical one. She watched as the assorted oarsmen of the
beached Strife squirmed their way out from under the sail, only to be met at
the edge by a halfling and forced to surrender or be skewered. By the look of it, no one was inclined toward
the skewering option. Once they were all
subdued, the dark-skinned little pygmy hopped up on a rock and addressed the
group with a broad grin and a number of expressive gestures. The oarsmen exchanged baffled looks. Vrinege gestured emphatically. One of the oarsmen got to her feet, took two
steps, made a grab toward the pygmy and was instantly on the ground, writhing
in pain. Vrinege addressed the other
oarsmen again. Emphatic head-shaking.
Herding the large, muscular brutes like a cattle-dog,
Vrinege got the Strife back into the water, got the sail replaced, and without
further incident the patrol around Tidewater Rock resumed. It was a good thing, too--the mast of the
Crisis was repaired and it was time for her to set out again. Vrinege would make a good person to leave in
charge of defending the island in her absence.
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