One week had passed. The six island dwellers had all gathered at the docks to pool the coin they had accumulated and found themselves with just over three hundred gold. As they awaited the arrival of their fearless leader, the boisterous paladin from across the sea, they examined the rest of the goods they had accrued.
“I’ve got the gear Athastar asked me to make for us and I took the liberty of making a couple shields in case anybody felt they needed one,” Doc said cheerily. “I also have this odd lock he asked me to make that’s really easy to just pop right open,” she explained as she demonstrated the device.
“What a coincidence, I’ve got a wooden chest that’s also really shitty,” Zib said, sitting atop the wooden box in question. “Why did he ask us to build these?”
“I feel like if she knew, she’d already have told you,” Burk said. The monk had shed his spiritual robe in favor of combat clothing, which wrapped tightly around his torso and hung loosely around his limbs. It was nearly pure white with azure trim, two of the colors of Cooglara. He held two small boxes under his arms, which Nessa looked at with great concern.
“I’m not sure that was sarcasm,” Nessa said, attempting to draw her attention away from the boxes by correcting the monk’s snide but not quite subversive remark.
“What are those boxes for?” Tom asked after slipping into his chain mail. He also attempted to heft one of the shields and his family sword. They felt oddly natural in his hands, so he sheathed one and put the other on a loop on his back.
“They’re a trap for the pirates,” Burk explained. “I got them from Beatrice, so-“
“You bought two boxes full of bees off of the crazy old lady who sends random people boxes of bees?” Tom asked, horrified but intrigued.
“Yes,” Burk confirmed flatly, shrugging.
“I don’t understand,” Carl said, furrowing his brows and quirking his mouth to one side. He’d adorned the traditional dark orange robes of those who follow the ancient one. These fibers would allow him to tap into ancient contractual magic. “How are two boxes of bees a trap for pirates?”
“They board our ship, seeking loot, then see these boxes, open them, and BAM! Bees!”
“I like this plan!” Tom said enthusiastically.
“I do not,” Nessa emphatically retorted.
“Doesn’t matter, we’re doing it,” Doc said, visibly excited by the inevitable chaos that would follow the opening of those boxes. She had been brushing up on her holy channeling and fighting technique in preparation for this journey, and had found the chaotic side of ocean and storm magic to be quite appealing. She had a spell she very much wanted to try out on the pirates.
“Doing what, my child?” came an old and familiar voice from behind Doc. The Abbot had come down from the abbey to bid the crew safe travels and farewell.
“Ah, Father Joden, I’m so glad you could catch us before we set sail! Today we go to cleanse the seas of one band of pirates,” she replied excitedly. He smiled warmly but with a twinge of concern.
“I can respect your vigor, but I think you should consider diplomacy in all you do, rather than resorting immediately to ‘cleansing’. There is value in destruction, but only when necessary.”
“But, father, you told me that the Coog Pearl was a sign I was meant to become a great adventurer,” Doc posed this point in slight confusion.
“Yes, but adventures aren’t all about fighting or purifying or what have you, they are about making the world better through your actions.” He rested a hand upon her shoulder and looked directly into her silver eyes, which sat wide among her sandy freckles. “I do not see malice in your eyes, and I think that, should you stray from the path of goodness, you shall know, and you shall return post haste. You are certainly an adventurer of Cooglara, a seafarer and a powerful wielder of the seas, the storms, and your own powerful will. I am proud of you.”
The two smiled at one another for a brief period and they embraced before the abbot turned to Burk, who had stashed the two boxes within his gi and was trying to stand in such a way that they are not obvious.
“And you, my youngest of wandering sons,” the abbot said, still a smile upon his face and in his voice, “in you I see a fighting spirit like no other. I have seen it since the day you first took to the training room. You are born to explore the seas and find who you are among the waves and the isles.”
“But I know who I am,” the newly sixteen-year-old said confidently. “I am Burk!”
The abbot laughed and replied, “Indeed you are, my son, and that is all you need to be, but it would not surprise me if you find yourself with many questions about who you are and where you came from. I am confident your answers lie out there,” he gestured to the sea, “as well as in here,” he pointed to Burk’s heart, narrowly missing one of the bee boxes.
“I hope you’re right, father,” Burk replied, not entirely sure what this conversation was about. He was never all that concerned about the where, why, or how of the matter. He had always focused primarily on living with what he saw as a disability, being large and clumsy in a community of nimble and dexterous people. He was sure his tusks and black, greasy hair did not do much to help his case among these fairer folk.
“I know I am, my son,” the abbot said, going in for a hug. Burk held him back, not wanting the abbot to be subjected to two whole boxes of bees. The abbot interpreted this as Burk attempting to make himself feel more like an adult, so he gladly accepted a strong handshake in place of the embrace. “May Cooglara smile down upon the both of you.”
The elderly man then bowed deeply to Doc and Burk in turn, spun about, and began heading back up towards the temple, nodding slightly at Nessa as he passed.
Was that all she got? A head nod? That was pitiful at best and downright insulting at worst. She interpreted it as the latter, for she supposed she wasn’t meant to be a great adventurer, a fact with which she had come to terms, yet she was ready to push forward regardless. However, to be ignored by the Abbot to this extent cut her deeply and she could only interpret it as the worst possible scenario.
Zib, meanwhile, was getting incredibly uncomfortable. He wasn’t much of a fan of all these religious types spitting their celestial mumbo jumbo into one another’s mouths and gargling it like a bunch of disgusting cultish morons. He kept a careful eye on Tom to make sure the kid didn’t get too drawn into this crowd’s craziness. This mission was going to be somewhat taxing with four of these people onboard the ship.
“Good morning, all!” Athastar said as he arrived. Zib’s grimace deepened. “Are you prepared for our outing?” He asked this as though they were going on a walk through the woods on the west side of the island and not going out to hunt down heavily armed pirates in a fishing boat.
“We will be as soon as you bring us your share,” Zib replied coarsely.
“Here we are, forty-five gold,” the paladin said, holding up the coin pouch.
“We were all supposed to get fifty,” Zib said bitterly.
“Well, I figured you all would have gathered more than enough to make up for the amount I’d get form selling that creaking pile of scrap wood.”
“You made your entire share just by selling your old boat?” Doc asked, confused.
“Indeed I did. I spent the rest of the week meditating, mentally preparing myself to take on this quest.” The group all just stared at the ex-Templar except Carl, who knew exactly what type of weirdo Athastar was.
“I guess that makes as much sense as everything else you’ve done these past seven days,” Tom said, trying to move past the strangeness of his fellow man’s lack of contribution. Several of the others went along with this explanation as well, but Zib was appalled. He was giving up money, the most important thing in his life, to go along with this crazy scheme that might get him killed. Was the title of “ship’s carpenter” really worth that? He decided that it was, but he was going to keep his eye on this Athastar guy every waking moment.
One hour later, the Wyrm of the Waves was sea ready. They’d decided to change the boat’s name after they’d seen its diminutive scale. It was only about thirty feet long and ten feet wide at the widest. It had a few dozen square feet of space below deck and a single, triangular sail. It was clearly not meant for a crew of this size, but it was the best they could afford. It was at this point that they realized their need for food and water.
“Hold on, I think I’ve got a spell for this,” Doc said, pointing at one of the ten gallon barrels that came with the ship. She held her Coog Pearl tightly in her other hand and murmured a phrase in the language of the sea folk. There was a feeling like electricity in the air and a breeze came through, causing Nessa to shiver. Suddenly the barrel was full of water. Doc’s legs were shaking and an odd smile crossed her face as she collapsed to her knees, the spiritual energy still new to her.
Athastar stepped forward, dipped his hand into the cool, clear water, and sipped form his cupped palm. “It’s clean,” he muttered, slurping down the rest of what his broad hand could hold. “It’s clean!” he shouted to his new crew. He was ecstatic. A cleric that could make water, a shipwright that could easily maneuver around the ship, a monk that could play a musical instrument, an expert warlock to act as the ship’s mage, a swabbie apprentice kid, and a druid. “All we need now is food.”
“I have these,” Burk said, holding out a handful of gnarled, dark roots. “I think they’re edible.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Nessa said quickly. “That’s blackroot. It’s a powerful laxative.”
“What’s a laxative?” Burk asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Makes you poop,” Doc replied flatly. Nessa nodded. “Don’t think we want to be munching on that on a long journey on a tiny boat. Hey, Tom, do you think the tavern-”
“Already on it,” Tom shouted. He’d started walking towards the tavern after he saw the cleric summon water from seemingly nothing and was now just within earshot. After this, though he turned and ran the rest of the way. He stuck his head in the door and called for the bartender, who he asked for several weeks’ rations.
“Knew you was gonna need that,” the man scoffed. “That’s why I’ve been underpaying you for the past week. Check the back, there’s a delivery for you.”
Tom found a stack of parcels wrapped in dark parchment. Small amounts of salt had piled up around the folds in the paper. He hefted a couple and took them back to the Wyrm, where Athastar tore one open to find a brick of salt and vegetables. The bartender had been shaving little bits off the top of Tom’s wages to pay for salted rations of all kinds. Athstar, Tom, Zib, and Burk all clambered over one another to retrieve more of the packages and bring them to the ship.
“We have food,” Athastar said proudly. “We have water,” he continued. “We are ready to set sail and clear up whatever it is that’s been going on with these pirates.”
“Yeah!” Tom and Doc both shouted out, genuinely excited for the adventure. Zib looked at one with agitation and the other with concern.
“Shouldn’t we let the council know we’re going out to take out the island’s primary threat?” The Halfling asked. He was getting jittery, not frightened, but certainly nervous. He wasn’t sure he was ready to leave Loukusa.
“Already handled,” Athastar said after hopping onto the deck of the little four-oar ship, which bobbed and rocked as it was boarded. He explored the small lower deck to see what amount of cargo could be held there. “Help me get the barrels and boxes on here.”
Doc carried her barrel of pure water while Tom, Zib, and Carl moved the parcels of salted food onto the deck. Athastar took the faulty chest and lock and pushed them up against the front side of the mast. Burk carefully and stealthily stashed his bees between the barrel and the wall of the storeroom. Once they’d all boarded, they realized that this would be a very tight fit for the seven of them on this two- to four-person vessel.
Finally they were truly ready to set sail, and when the ropes were untied and the large canvas flap was dropped, they were on their way. They knew it would not be a short journey to the location of all the pirate attacks, but they were confident that their preparations were sufficient.
With their course set and Nessa at the “helm,” Zib decided to ask the difficult question.
“What’s with the box and the lock, paladin?”
“That’s part of my plan to steal the pirate’s ship and make it our own.”
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