# Tales from the Ghostsea Chapter 8 Love and Mutiny (Updated 11/05/05)



## Tolen Mar (Oct 2, 2005)

*Chapter 1: Charity's beginning.	*

“The guests have all arrived, ma’am.”

	“Thank you Marchaunt.  Would you please see to it that there is enough wine to go around, please?”

	“Yes ma’am.”

	Countess Veranese projected an image of calm, cool dignity.  It was an illusion projected over seething turmoil of anger.  This ball was being held in her grand-daughters honor.  It was tonight that her marriage to Baron Jean de Seguzzo would be announced.  There would be merry-making, dancing, more than a few drunken guests, all celebrating the joining of both families, building up a more powerful voice within the council of the people.

	Except that Charity wasn’t here.

	The countess made her way to the grand staircase that dominated the ballroom, intent on finding the girl, and dragging her down here by her ears if need be.  As she started climbing the steps, a youthful, moderately attractive young man stepped out of the crowd.  He was tall, and wore the military uniform of a captain of Mala.  It was immaculately pressed, with his medals in exactly the proper place.  He was holding two tall narrow wine glasses, each half full.

	“Countess Veranese?” He called.

	She stopped, reapplied her veneer of calm, and turned.

	“Yes Baron?”  She asked, smiling.

	“I first want to compliment you on the proceedings thus far.  This event will be the talk of the people for some time to come.”

	“Thank you.  I do try.”

	“This wine, though.  I thought they only made this in the city of the dead, how did you come by it?”

	“Now, Baron, I must have a few secrets from you.”

	“Of course.” He said, smiling.  “Have you seen Charity?  I have been looking for her all over, and the time for our announcement draws near.”


	The countess’ smile slipped momentarily.  “She’ll be along soon.  No doubt there is an issue with her gown.  I was about to see to the problem myself.  If you’ll excuse me?”

	“Why don’t I accompany you? After all, would it not be appropriate to be seen together when we return?”

	Her smile didn’t change, but the thoughts behind it did.  Her answer was cold, but the Baron seemed not to have noticed.  “Of course.” She said.  Then she turned up the stairs, with the Baron in tow.

	Charity cinched up the belt that held her rapier, then left the note atop the ballgown her grandmother had wanted her to wear.  She turned toward the window, and as she did so, she passed the mirror.  She did not look like a noblewoman at the moment.  She was wearing black pants that hugged every curve, a simple white shirt that might have looked more appropriate on a man, and a red vest.  If anything, she looked like an adventurer.

	Downstairs, the ball was getting underway.  Her grandmother wouldn’t wait long before coming to see why she wasn’t down there.  She had to move quickly.  She knew what she was doing, she had snuck out of this bedroom hundreds of times.  She put out the candles, then opened the curtains, and opened the glass windows.  The sea breeze wafted in, smelling more to her like freedom than ever before.  She climbed out on the ledge.

	There was a great oak in the courtyard, its branches stretched out over the wall of the manor house.  She had used it to go out on the town in the past, now it was her gateway to her future.  She balanced along the ledge until she was next to the tree, and started preparing to jump.  It was a good ten feet to the longest branches.  The breeze picked up and blew a few strands of her hair into her face.  She cursed, wishing she had thought to bind the curled red locks out of the way.  Then she jumped.

	There was hardly a sound as she caught the first branch with both hands, and swung up onto the next.  A few minutes later, she was over the wall and heading for the docks.

	“Charity!” grandmother yelled from down the hall.  She was so furious by now that her determined motion made it difficult for the baron to keep up.  She rounded on the door, pounding it with her fist.  The Baron, trying to remain dignified, adjusted his uniform, and stood closely by.

	“Charity, you come out this minute!”

	When there was no answer, she tried to turn the handles.  She cursed again, they were of course locked.  The servants, hearing a commotion had rallied themselves together, and before she could even think of shouting for the keys, one of them appeared, and unlocked the door.

	The room was dark.  The moonlight poured in through the open window, and played over the curtains as they danced in the breeze.  The servant who had the key entered and began lighting candles.

	“Where could that girl be?” she asked no one in particular.  The servant brought her a candle and an envelope.  It was unmarked aside for the word ‘Grandmother’ on the front.  She wasted little time in opening it, and what she read made her anger boil over.

	“Should I tell the guests the party has been postponed, ma’am?” The servant asked.

	“You’ll do no such thing!” She turned to the Baron.  “It looks like your announcement shall have to wait, Baron.  Ungrateful child! She has too much of her mother in her.”

	The countess, reassembled her calm smiling façade, and went to see to her guests, to try to convince them that everything was all right.  As she left, she casually dropped the note.

	While the servant returned the room to its former state, Jean picked up the letter, and read.

_Grandmother,

	I know this will make you furious, but I have decided I will not marry the man you have chosen for me.  I am too young to be tied down.  I am leaving to seek my fortune.  Do not come looking for me.  Tell Faith I love her.

				I love you as well, though you may not be able to see it,
									Charity.
_


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 2, 2005)

I suppose a few notes are in order.

Ghostsea is an Iron Heroes campaign.

Charity is a thief, while the Baron will make his appearance later as an armiger.

Now, I do not DM this game, so all of my stories will be based on the point of view of my character, as opposed to a world view a DM might give you.  There are things I do not know as yet, however, I have gotten some background info from my DM, and will work it into the stories as circumstance permits.

My plan is to take the logs of each session (we play via OpenRPG), and turn each one into a narrative.  I hope to do this once each week.  However, I am starting this after several sessions, so this story will lag behind a bit from the actual game.


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## iwatt (Oct 3, 2005)

Cool, an IH Story Hour.    

I've always wanted to read a story hour from just one character's perspective.


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 3, 2005)

*Chapter 2 Skull Cove*

Skull Cove was a pirate’s dream.  It was a massive cave buried in the side of a cliff.  The approach was guarded by difficult reefs, and it was masked in fog.  Only the best navigators could get a ship through, and it was a mark of trust for your captain to teach you one of the routes.  

Once past the mouth of the cave, the inlet broadened out into a massive underground lake.  The cove was built along the far edges of the lake.  Here was where pirates and convicts went to escape the law.  The cove also did a fair bit of land-based trade, often from the very coffers of the pirate ships themselves who needed a safe way to fence their ill-gotten gains.  In over a hundred years, the cove had remained safe, and hidden.

The only difficult thing to find there was lamp oil.  Being a massive cave, the cove had no natural sunlight during the day, and so everything was lit with lamp oil, all day and all night long.  Such a demand drove the price of oil through the roof.  If you didn’t want to sell stolen goods, or raid other ships as a pirate, you could make a decent living in the oil trade; whether by selling the oil once it got there, or by going through the desert to the south to buy it from the kingdom of the sands.

Legend has it that the city was built by one of the Masters, a race of beings responsible for the wars about 150 years before.  The Masters are said to have created the First, and set each one to control a city, and guard it.  Skull Cove was one of only a few cities that were not being run by one of the First.  Most cities across the continent had a First as governor.  Skull Cove, being hidden and a pirate haven, was one that was exempt.  Most believe that was because of its nature.  It was also why the secret remained well-kept.

It was just exactly the kind of place Charity had been looking for.

She found a ship, under the command of Captain Raymond Perri.  A little bit of research had told her that Perri was a ‘respectable’ pirate.  He did not kill unless he had to.  At least that was the story.  She considered herself lucky, she had arrive din port just as he was taking on new crewmembers.  She signed on, knowing what kind of fit her grandmother would have had, if she found out.  She spent the first few days learning the ropes, and meeting the other crew.

There was Aoife, Charity was bemused at first to find that the ship had its own prostitute.  She would run off most nights they were in port and practice her trade.  Charity assumed that meant she didn’t think Perri paid well enough, and Perri didn’t ever seem concerned by it.  Still, Charity had always been raised to believe that women weren’t sex objects.  Seeing Aoife whore herself out on a regular basis would quickly begin to rub her the wrong way.  Apparently, before joining the crew, Aoife was a student at a well-known fighting school; her father however was a gambler, and owed money to Perri.  Aoife was traded for the debt, to work for Perri until her fathers gambling mistakes had been covered.  During her days searching for a crew to join, she learned that Aoife was building a solid reputation in the cove.

Khadija was obviously born of the desert.  She had the lithe, muscled body of one who moved around a lot, a nomad maybe.  She wouldn’t talk much about it to Charity, but it seems she was on the run from some mercenaries.

And then there was Lorenzo degli Spade.  He was the ships doctor.  He had a flair in his choice of dress, a wide brimmed hat complete with feather, a cloak that caught the breeze.  He was handsome, Charity couldn’t help feel something when she first met him.  
Not everyone aboard was very talkative those first days.  All she learned about Dunstan was that he was from a mountain tribe, one of the berserkers of legend, supposedly.  There was an enigmatic character named Orange; she didn’t get a word out of him for several days.  

Aside from the rest of the crew that tended to various ship duties, there was the navigator, Kor.  Something about him made Charity not trust him, but it was just a gut feeling, nothing more.  And then the first mate was Samson, a short, but otherwise fairly large fellow, who was very capable of getting the captain’s orders obeyed.

The contract with Perri was good, five silver pieces a week, plus 5 more anytime the ship was involved in a fight, and a gold coin anytime they brought back the head of the enemy captain.  So much for not killing unless necessary. 

The ship slowly made its way past the reefs.  Two of the crew were at the bow of the ship with lanterns, lighting the dark tunnel, and keeping watch for unexpected dangers lurking under the water.  Charity stood at the railing over the aft-castle, breathing in the salty sea air.

“You know,” she said to no one in particular, “I really prefer it out there. Shame we have to come home for supplies.”

“I could use time away from the constant rolling of the sea myself.” Replied Orange.  The few days she had been on the crew, Orange had not handled the sea well.  It was enough to make her wonder why he signed on.  However, he claimed to have a seafaring background, and a lot of experience at sailing.

“Buck up man!  We’ll get you your sea legs yet.”  Charity had taken to the sea life rather naturally.  When she was a little girl, she had often snuck off to the docks, and stowed away on local ships heading up and down the coast.  She’d be gone for days at a time, and her grandmother would worry endlessly that some pirate had gotten hold of her.

“I got’em a long time ago.  I just prefer solid ground.”

Aoife walked up to join the two at the rail.  “I hope this latest haul is enough to pay off my father’s debts.”

Not knowing how to answer, the three stood there watching the small patch of sky and sea retreat as the cave swallowed them.

Lorenzo seemed happy to be back, he was busy checking over his inventory and getting ready to purchase some new medicines.  Two days ago, the ship had gotten into a small scrap with a Malasian cutter that wanted to inspect the cargo.  The fight was short, and added another offense to the ships record.  After stitching up those who needed it, Ren was a bit low on supplies.

Samson was looking out to the south as well.  On the southern horizon was a storm, a big one.  When Orange noticed him, he tried to turn away, but the big man stopped him.

“Is there something about that storm?  We’ll make it all right in port wont we?”

Samson looked him up and down before answering.  “Ah, that storm never leaves the southern sea.  Some say its leftover damage from the Master’s war, others that that’s the edge of the world.  Koraldris is fascinated by it, but I don’t see what the big deal is.  Its dangerous waters, no one goes there.”

Orange nods.  “Makes sense to me, I try to stay away from the Master’s work myself.”

“More than likely, there’s a stash hidden out there someone wants to keep hidden.”  Charity said.

Samson laughed.  “Doubtful!  No one has ever been out there and returned.  Twenty years ago, Amarmaro, the First to Seek, set out with a crew to find out what was there.  They never came back.”

“Besides Charity,” Orange added, “Why would they draw attention with a storm like that?”

“He’s probably living high on what he found.  He likely summoned up that storm to keep people away.  If he’s a First, he might have the power to do it.”

Lorenzo came up on deck, stuffing a piece of parchment into his shirt.  “Maybe they found what they were looking for and decided not to come back.”

“What good is a treasure if you can’t spend it?”

“Skull Cove isn’t the only place to spend it, Orange.  I’m going to go get ready for land.”  Charity went down to her bunk, as she left, she heard the conversation continue, Samson had the floor.

“A First can’t exactly avoid cover now can he?  And if someone showed up with a boatful of treasure, wouldn’t you think someone would notice?”

*************************************************************

The cave was filled with a bizarre twilight.  Virtually every house and shop had an oil lamp in the window, and the combined flickering flames gave the place an eerie, shadowy appearance.  It was lit well enough you could see where you were going, but there were still plenty of places to hide.  Only the brave walked the streets alone.

As she stepped down the gangplank, Charity wrinkled her nose.  “I never could stand the smell of this place.”

Orange stepped down beside her.  “Want some company at the tavern, Charity?”

“Sure.  You can clear us a place to sit.”

Orange assumed a threatening pose.  “I can clear an area, no problem.”

Charity laughed, looped her arm in his, and together they strolled to the nearest tavern.  Dunstan fell in behind them, and together they found a place that was rather busy, but usually served the best ales.  The trio couldn’t help but notice that there were a large number of well-dressed folk in there that night.  The one that stood out the most was a fellow toward the back, dressed in green and black silk.  He looked tired, but he was still happily carousing with the people around him.

“Barkeep!” Orange thundered.  “Gimme a round for my pals here!”

Charity nudged Orange a bit in the ribs.  “Look at that fop over there.”

“Eh, mus’ be a cap’n or an owner.”

“Either way, he ought to know better than to dress like that.  He’s inviting light fingers.”

The round of drinks arrived, and the trio each grabbed up a mug.

“To solid ground!” shouted Orange.

“I’ll drink to that.” Replied Dunstan.

Charity raised her mug.  “You two are a pair of hopeless landlubbers.”

As she drank, she listen to the general background noise.  Among other things, she caught a part of a conversation that claimed a Malasian ship was in the area, and one of the more well-known pirate ships hadn’t returned.  She filed the info away for later.  Looking around, she turned to her companions.

“So who among these folks you think would make a good target this time?” she asked.

“I’m still learning to judge that, to be honest.”  Orange replied.

“You know I’m not a good judge of that.” Dunstan said.

“It isn’t that hard.  Our fop for instance.  He’s too obvious.  Someone else probably already has their eyes on him.”

“The way I figure it,” said Orange, “That kind of confidence and money might be earned, especially here.”

“You know I wonder if he isn’t the owner of that missing ship…” she said to herself.

“Wouldn’t he be missing then?” asked Dunstan.

“Owner, not captain.”

“Hmm…Good question.”  Orange had finished his second mug and was motioning to the serving girl to bring another round.

“You mean a man may own something he doesn’t use?  I’ll never get used to ‘civilization’.”

“Look at it this way, Dunstan.  Suppose he owns more than one vessel.  How is he to be on all of them at once?”

Orange excused himself for a few minutes, and when he returned, he had news.  “Seems that fellow over there is some sort of renegade from Mala.  Rumour has it that he had a falling out with some lord or some such, and had to high tail it out of there.”

“A renegade?” Charity smiled.  “That could heat things up for anyone around him.”

“Sounds interesting.” Dunstan remarked.

Lorenzo entered the tavern then.  Charity waved him over to their table and ordered up another drink.

“I assume you were able to find all of your supplies?” she asked.

“Yeah, all that I needed, which wasn’t much.  I ran into a bit of trouble though.”

“Oh really? What sort of trouble?” 

“A trio of goons tried to thug me around a bit, but I got away with only a bit of a scuffle.  I ran into them near a Malasian church.  They seemed to know who I was.  At lease what ship I was on.  They mentioned the Cap.”

“What did they want?”

“Just money it seems.”

Charity didn’t know why, but at just that moment, it seemed that Ren was not telling the truth.

“Ok, Ren, spill it, what’s really going on?”

“Some goons tried to mug me, that’s all.”

“Suppose we go ask the goons, what do you think they’d say?”

“Your money or your life?”

When Ren shrugged, she told him how the man was on the lam.  Dunstan and Orange wouldn’t let the issue die, however.

“So how’d the captain come up?”  asked Dunstan.

“Something to the extent of “Hey, you’re that stitcher on Perri’s crew, aren’t you?”

“That means they knew you were the doctor too.”

“That could mean they are from another crew around here.” Orange added.

Lorenzo shrugged, clearly unwilling to speak on the matter more.

“Suit yourself, Ren.  You want to be close about it, I wont force the issue.”

”You see that fellow over there Ren?  He’s on the run from Mala.  You know anything about him?”

Ren looked over, but while it seemed he recognized the fellow, he only shrugged.  “Don’t think so.”

Charity saw the glint in Ren’s eyes.  “Keep your secrets, then.  These things have a way of being revealed in time.  I, however, feel like dancing.”

Charity stood, asked the musicians to play something special, and danced into the night.


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 7, 2005)

*Chapter 3: One Ship, Two Ship*

Chapter 3: One ship, Two ship…

Shoreleave was over.  Charity, having slept off her hangover, climbed the gangplank; she noticed, and not for the first time, the carcasses floating in the bay.  She didn’t know what was going on, but she put the bloodied remains out of her head.  Someone really disliked cats, she supposed.  She set about her duties, checking clew lines, making sure the sails and rigging hadn’t gotten fouled while most of the crew were away.  Satisfied, she went below to make sure her trunk hadn’t been disturbed.  As she neared her bunk, near the captain’s quarters, she heard voices.  She recognized Perri and Samson.

“They’ll give us 50 gold for his head?” Samson asked, surprised.

“That’s what they say.  They are really pissed with him being so bold.”

“We’ve never gotten a bounty like that, for anyone.  Are you sure this new crew is up to it?”

The captain sighed, he sounded thoughtful.  “Well we don’t have a choice do we?  I wouldn’t sign on any member of the crew if I didn’t think they could handle it…or if I were worried about how trustworthy they might be.”

“There’s the rub, cap.  I hope you don’t mind me sayin’ I think the whole lot of’em are too green for this.  Your last crew, now there was a group of cut-throats.”

The captain laughed.  “Yes, they were.  Shame I had to let them go.  Still, we’d better be getting ready to make way.  Anything else to report?”

“No, sir.  Save that I don’t trust Koraldris, sir.  He seems too…shifty, if you ask me.  Like he’s got plans of his own or something.”

“No one does, least of all me.  Don’t worry I’ve got my eye on him.”

There was the scrape of chairs moving as the two stood, and Charity ran up the stairs before she could be seen.  She made it upstairs just as the rest of her friends came up the gangplank.  

“Something’s going on.” She warned.

“What’s that?” Asked Lorenzo.

“I don’t know.  I just ‘accidentally’ over heard them talking about a bounty of some sort.”

Ren grinned.  “Accidentally?”

“You know, I just happened to be within earshot at the time, and well heard some things.”

Ren opened his mouth to make another comment when the Captain and Samson came up on deck.  Samson blew the bosun’s whistle summoning the entire crew to order.

“All right, everyone.  Looks like we get to fight, and we’ll be paid for it this time.  This isn’t just a raid.  I want everyone in fighting trim in fifteen minutes time.  Word is that our prey is within a few hours of here, and we get to go take care of the problem.  Lets get this tub underway.”

“What’s our prey, Cap?” Charity shouted from the back, where she stood on a capstan.

“No doubt you’ve heard of the warship in the area, the one that’s been taking down local entrepreneurs?  The governors have decided to show them that we can’t be intimidated that easily.”

There was a chorus of shouts from the assembled crew.  “We’ll tear them to ribbons!” “They’ll regret setting sail in the ghostsea!”  The captain waited for the noise to die down before he spoke again.

“Now, we have to bring their captain back for identification.  So no one shoves him overboard, got it?”

There was another cheer, and the crew set sail.  

**********************************

“Ship ahoy!” came the shout from the crows nest.  The captain raised his spyglass.

“Yep, right where we were told to expect them.  Right, you lot, this is for the gold.  Give me best speed possible, but keep our colors hidden.  We don’t want them running from us.”

The crew snapped to work, the sails were trimmed, the steersman angled for an approach.  Everyone began checking their weapons.  Charity drew her rapier, hefted it, gave a few practice flourishes, and re-sheathed it.  As they approached, the other crew and captain could be seen, apparently they had been spotted.  

Bright flickers of light came from the aft of the ship, a signal mirror was being used to ask their intentions.  Kor kept theirs covered.  Nothing they said would be believed or even important after just a few minutes.

“Divide up into two parties.” Samson shouted.  “One party will go aboard and skirmish, the other will stay here as backup, and use the crossbows.  We’ll try to light their sails aflame, and slow them down.  Let’s move people!”

The crew separated as ordered, the unsuspecting ship drew closer.  Eventually, they moved into hailing distance.  The captains only answer to the shouted greeting was the order to fire.

A dozen flaming bolts sped across the distance, lit by small fire pits at the bowmen’s feet.  The crew on the other deck panicked, and stumbled around each other as they tried to make ready for a boarding action, and started trying to put out the flames.  The crew sent another round of flaming bolts, and some of the sails began to burn.  A third volley went unanswered before the other ship got its act together.  A feeble return volley spiked the deck near Charity, who only grinned, and took hold of a rope dangling from one of the yardarms.  As soon as they were within range, she took a running jump, and swung across the gap.  She heard the others doing the same.

She landed solidly, ducked a fired bolt, and ran a man through.  She flipped her sword around with dexterity, brought it into a guard position, and pointed at the next one in line with a grin.  The man charged her, she ducked, ran him through, spun around and impaled a third in the same motion.  Then she saw the captain of the other vessel.  She was from Mala and recognized him instantly as a war-priest.  He was the one they wanted.

She ran toward him, ducking attacks from friend and foe alike, rolled past Dunstan as his axe clove into the mast next to his target, and struck out at the armored warrior.  Her blade deflected aside without finding its mark.  The man smirked, “They send waifs to fight us?”

“Yeah, I know.” She responded. “They usually send us after real targets.”

He swung his sword, which she easily ducked, then countered, but his armor absorbed it.  Charity was getting annoyed.  Just then, Ren landed on the deck behind him, making a feeble cut with one of his daggers as he did so.  Just the same, it took some of the man’s attention from her.

Cut, thrust, parry, dodge.  The two were too fast for the armored man to pin down, and his armor kept the worst of their attacks from having an effect.

“Harumph!  Kill their boarders!  They were kind enough to leave us planks to take their ship!”   There was a snapping sound as some of the rigging burned away.  The yardarms weren’t going to hold up much longer.  The three sized each other up again, and sped into a flurry of steel, trying to bring the armored man down.

One of the regular crew, not having another target at the moment, rushed at Charity.  The swing was clumsy, however, and she easily batted it aside.  She returned her attention to her target, dropped to the deck as he swung, and stabbed upward.  Ren took the opportunity offered by his momentary lack of attention to drive his daggers deep into the man’s back.  The man grunted in pain, and turned to aim a strike at Ren, drawing a line of blood across his chest.  Ren took one look at his chest, then launched into a furious assault of flashing daggers, ducking and weaving between the man’s defenses.  Overwhelmed, he could only throw his hands up to his face to protect it, and Ren found the one place his daggers could do the most damage.  He shoved the blade up between two of the plates of the mans armor, finally killing him.

Behind her, she could hear Dusntan and Orange making short work of the enemy crew, punctuated at times by Aoife and Khadija’s respective battle cries.  Aoife cut the last one down.

***************************

The celebration was short.  Bodies were counted, fires were put out.  The surviving crew set about repairing the damage so the ship could be sailed back to port.  Ren began first aid for those that needed it.  Charity thanked her lucky stars that she didn’t need his help, and then began exploring the new ship, to see what she could find.

Hidden under a board near the front of the ship was a small box, and under it a handful of gems.  Looking over her shoulder, she pockets the gems, and replaces the box.  Whatever share of the gold the crew earned, Charity was happy enough to claim her own reward.  She walked out of the room, to run into Orange, who was also searching the ship.  

“Did you find anything?” he asked.

“No, there wasn’t anything in there.  What do you say we go ahead and see if they need our help up there?”

“Sounds good to me.  We did good today, didn’t we?”

Charity smiled.  “Indeed we did, indeed we did.”


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 7, 2005)

Gosh, this drifted pretty far since I last posted...gotta remember to try and update more often.


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 7, 2005)

Ok, three chapters, three writing styles.

The first chapter was totaly off the cuff, written up as a way to work in my character(s) backgrounds.  It was completely my own work.

Chapter two was done with the logs in one hand, and the word processor in the other (metaphorically speaking of course), as I tried to verbatim translate what happened into a story.  It was exhausting work, and not very much fun.  It also wasnt as well written.

Chapter three, was a blend of the two.  I read the logs, refreshed my memory of events, then set it aside and wrote the story.  Then I went back, worked in some of the characters lines (even though I cut out a lot more of them than before), and made sure the plot followed what happened.  A lot more fun, a lot less tiring, and time will tell if it's better or not.  

Feel free to comment.

Edit: 1500 words in a little over an hour...maybe NaNo isnt so crazy after all....


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## iwatt (Oct 7, 2005)

Tolen Mar said:
			
		

> Ok, three chapters, three writing styles.
> A lot more fun, a lot less tiring, and time will tell if it's better or not.
> 
> Feel free to comment.




I think good story hours work when the author takes some artistic licenses. If you stick to much to what "really" happened, the action sequences tend to sound as round robin rounds of initiative    .

I liked your first and third chapters by the way.


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 17, 2005)

*Chapter 4: It came from the Deep...*

Chapter 4: It came from the deep…

The crew was in a lively mood for the next three days.  The newly captured ship was taken to the cove, where Captain Perri decided he was going to keep it and use it to supplement his own ship during raids.  The crew, most at least, got more shore leave, and rushed ashore to spend their ill-gotten gains.  Perri had the new ship repainted, a few modifications made, in order that any Malasian warships in the area might not recognize it as one of their own.

In her bunk area, after everyone left, Charity carefully wrapped the gems in a spare cloth from her trunk.  She stored the bundle under everything else, saving it for a rainy day.  Little did she know, she’d never get a chance to spend it.

Shore leave ended, and as usual, the captain called a meeting of the crew on the deck.

“I’ve decided to keep the new ship.  The governors themselves don’t care what happens to it, so it defaults to me.  My ship is faster, but this new one is pretty sturdy.  From now on, when we go on a raid, I’ll take my ship to draw away any defense, and give you time to get into position.”

Captain Perri then separated the crew into two smaller groups, and he indicated the group Charity ended up in.  Standing with her was Aoife, Khadija, Lorenzo, and Orange.

“You lot will stay aboard the new ship, Samson and Kor will accompany you.  You’ll take your orders from Samson, knowing they come from me.”

“I guess I’ll have to transfer the medical gear over.” Lorenzo whispered to no one in particular.

“Don’t do so on my account, Ren.”  Charity smiled at him.  “I don’t plan to need your expertise.”

“Everyone gets hurt once in a while.”

“Not me, I’m too good.”

“As it happens,” the captain resumed, “we have another mission.  Seems some Samu scholars are looking at some old ruins on a couple of islands not far from here.  Since we’ve ticked off the Malasian navy, heading East might be a good idea, let the dust settle a bit.  We’ll do this in two stages.  First I’ll take my ship in and draw off their escorts.  That’ll give you a chance to land, grab whatever treasures they’ve dug up and get out of there.  It’s a simple smash and grab, so don’t hang around and wait for me.  You get your stuff, you head out.  We’ll meet back here.”

“No problem, Cap’n!” Orange shouted.  “They won’t know what happened to ‘em.”

“Actually, there is a problem.  Word has it that Ottoman is out there.”

Several of the crew paled, and then cursed, others made the sign of the evil eye.  Charity had never heard of Ottoman before.

“Who’s ‘Ottoman’?” she asked.  Lorenzo shrugged, the rest of her friends didn’t know either.

“Ottoman is supposed to be an old sea god.”  Kor answered.  “It seems that some time ago, he was tricked by a sailor, who was able to blind his single eye.  The tales say he lurks in the ghostsea, attacking ships, looking for the one who got away.”

“Aye.” Perri agreed.  “I don’t believe in that nonsense myself, but as so many of my crew are superstitious…” he looked at several crewmembers with a wry look in his eyes.  “I want a party to go to town.  Find Mad Erwin’s shop.  I’ve asked him to make a talisman that should appease Old Ottoman, and get us past without incident.  At least, that’s what he claims.  Volunteers?”

“I’ll go.” Said Ren.

“Aye, and me.” Answered Charity.  

“For one more chance to go ashore, I’ll volunteer.”  Called Orange.

Before long, five of them were ready to go.  As they made to leave the ship, Perri tossed a bag of coins to Orange.  “Be sure to pay him with this.”

***************************************

Mad Erwin’s was located in the part of town called ‘Black Row’.  It was the poor section.  The streets were grimy, covered with the soot of decades of oil lamps burning night and day.  Every street corner had either a lady of ill repute or a beggar missing a hand or a foot, or worse.  The streets here were narrow, as well.  A single wagon might fit through but only if everyone got out of its way to let it past.  Sounds of scuffles came from near and far at every intersection and alleyway.

Mad Erwin’s shop looked much like the rest of the buildings in this part of town, which is to say, run down.  It had windows covered in dirt, with only the occasional vague attempt to wipe away the grime in evidence.  There was a sign over the door that read ‘Mad Erwin’s cures and curses’.  It hung from only one of its two hooks.  

As Ren opened the door, a blackened brass bell over the door rang.  The party stepped inside, to see rows of shelves filled with a large variety of bottles, flasks, small statuettes, and so forth.  None of them looked to have been moved in ages.  Dust lay in a thick layer on most of it.

A voice drifted out from behind a thick curtain in the back telling them someone would be out in just a few minutes.  With nothing to do but wait, the group began looking at the items on the shelves.  In one jar was a hand and arm floating in some sort of liquid.  It was missing most of its flesh, as well as a few of the finger bones.  Next to it, sat a box of blackroot, and Ren picked it up.

“I’m always running out of this.” He said.  “I wonder how much Erwin wants for it?”

As if waiting for that cue, Erwin came out of the back.  He was an older fellow, portly, and going bald.  He had on an apron that was smudged with something, the odor of which drifted quickly to where Charity was standing.  He was limping, and the scraggly facial hair looked as if he had tried to grow a beard, but failed miserably.

“How can I help ye?” he asked.

“Captain Perri sent us.” Charity answered.  “He says you have made something for us.”

“Ah yes!  In fact, I just finished.  Let me go get it for you.”

He limped into the back again, and a few minutes later came back holding four bags made of animal skins, each about the size of a persons head.  Each pair was bound together by a cord, and was accompanied both by a terrible smell, and by a cloud of flies.  He also produced a pair of rods with stones, teeth and feathers hanging from them.

“When you get within sight of the beast, nail what’s in these bags to the totems, and hang’em off the front of your ship.  Should keep the thing at bay.”

Charity backed away at the scent, and Ren looked reluctant to touch them.  Aoife made a gagging sound and made for the door.  Orange rolled his eyes, and took the rods, draping the bags over them.  Then he handed the pouch of coins to the man.

Everyone began to file out, except Lorenzo, who haggled out a price for the blackroot before he left.

*********************************

“Took you long enough!” Samson yelled as he saw the group returning.

“Next time, you go.” Charity shouted back.  “You think you could do it faster.  You aren’t the one who had to carry these smelly things back.”

“Get aboard, then!  The captain’s itching to get moving.”

Orange set one of the talismans on the foredeck of their ship, then took the other over to Perri’s ship.  Charity climbed to the crow’s nest.  A few minutes later, they cast off, and headed east.

**************************************

A few hours later, the ships drew close to the island that was reputed to be the island Ottoman hailed from.  Up on her perch, Charity saw one of the crew on Perri’s ship break out the totem and hang it off the bowsprit.  She leaned over the rail and shouted down to Samson.

“Sir! Looks like time to break out the totem!”

Samson looked over the waves to Perri’s ship, nodded, then called to Orange, “Mister Orange! Would you be so kind?”

Orange tied off the rope he had been working on and unwrapped the totems. They looked like enormous fish eyes.  He hung them in place as instructed.

Nothing happened that anyone could see.  The ships passed by the island without anything appearing.  Perhaps it was just an old tale after all, or maybe the talismans worked.  Either way, the ships continued on their way.  

After night fell, a signal shone out from Perri’s ship, indicating that the island they were after was not far ahead and that the crew should prepare for battle.

“Damn it all!” Samson cursed.  “That took longer than I thought.  Sailing back at night is going to be difficult, especially if we take another route home.”

Charity could make out the shape of the island on the horizon.  From here she could see pin-point sized flickers of campfires.  She turned to report down to Samson, when she caught a flicker of movement out in the water.  Peering as hard as she could, she just made out in the dim moonlight the shape of a whale, at least that’s what she thought it was.  It was underwater and coming fast.

“Creature below!” she shouted.

Several of the crew ran to the railings on the side she indicated, trying to spot what she had.  The shape cruised under the ship, and as it did so, the boat lurched sickeningly.  Several of the crew were knocked off their feet.  Then tentacles broke the surface of the water, and began sweeping the deck, feeling for anything they could grab.  Before anyone could react, one of the crew was yanked overboard by a particularly large one.

Kor rushed up on deck, cursing.  “Ottoman!  What the hell is he doing all the way out here?”

“That doesn’t exactly matter now, Kor!” Samson shouted.  “Get your weapon, and help out!”

Below her, Charity could see most of the crew fighting tentacles, one or two at a time for each one.  Occasionally one would grab a crewman and drag him overboard.  Samson struggled at the wheel, trying to keep the ship upright.  The largest tentacle of them all rose up out of the water then, and on its end was a large eyeball. It rose up to almost the same height Charity was at.  

“Holy gods!” she whispered as it darted down toward the deck.

Frantically, she began to tie a rope around her waist.  Balancing atop the shifting mast, she coiled the rope around and around, until she had almost all of it around her.

Below, Kor was trying to arrange a proper defense, shouting instructions, he had several of the crew into a tight box formation, the outer edges of which would strike at tentacles as they tried to reach in.

Lorenzo sprinted across the deck to where the totems were hanging, he snapped a dagger out of one of its hidden holsters, and cut the thing lose, tossing the eyes out to sea.  A tentacle whipped up and wrapped itself around Aoife. Orange and Khadija rushed up, and split it open.  There was a pained howling from beneath the ship as the tentacle slipped back under.

The eye-tentacle made a move toward Khadija as Charity balanced out to the end of the yardarm.  Once there, she drew her rapier, took a deep breath and jumped.  The rope caught, causing charity to spin, slowing down her fall, and bringing her around in a large arc that took her past the top of the big tentacle.  As she went by, she slashed out with her blade, opening a tremendous gash along its top side.  She landed, slightly dizzy, on the deck on the other side of Khadija.  Orange stepped up, and buried his trident in the center of the eye.  Another howl came from below, and the sea foamed, as the tentacles began to slip back into the sea.  

Just as the crew thought they had defeated the thing, two more tentacles came up, wrapped themselves around Kor and Khadija, and yanked them overboard.

Charity ran across the deck, dropping her rapier, and drawing her knife.  She jumped onto the rail, into the water.  She swam for all she was worth, and moments later heard Lorenzo splash in as well.  She made for Khadija, when Orange, trying to help, drove his trident at the tentacle holding her.  The thing shifted at the last moment, and the big fork impaled the girl instead.  Orange shouted a curse, and pulled.  Khadija came free of the tentacle, and Orange lifted her aboard like some kind of fish.  Charity turned, and joined Ren in trying to save Kor.

Her dagger blade wasn’t strong enough to penetrate the beast’s skin, but between the two of them, they freed Kor and began heading back for the surface, Kor looking the worst for wear.  Another tentacle shot up and tried to grab Charity by the ankle.  She kicked at it, and swam harder, getting away before it could grab her.

Several hands helped her back onto the deck, where she slumped down, dripping to catch her breath.  Near the back of the ship, Orange was kneeling over Khadija, weeping.  Between sobs, she could hear him saying “Oh god, Im sorry!  I’m so sorry!”

Ren went over to look at her.  “She’s lucky.  She’s alive.  Someone get my kit, now!”  Ren stopped the bleeding, and began to stitch the biggest of the wounds.  “You’ll be okay, but it looks like you’ll be out of the action for a while.”

“Nonsense, doc.” She said, her strength beginning to return.  “I’m tougher than you think.  He missed anything vital.”

“Still, if you try too much, these will tear open, and you’ll probably die.”

“You worry too much.”

“I really hate to bring this up right now, but we are almost there, and it looks like Perri can’t hold them off much longer.”  Samson called out.  “Get everyone bandaged up, and get ready, you still have to hit that camp.”

“Nice to know how much he cares for his crew.”  Aofie said, snidely.

“Anyone else hurt?” Ren asked.  Everyone else shook their heads.

“Not enough to worry about.” Charity replied.

Khadija sat up, new bandages over her wounds.  “We’re all fine, we have work to do.”

*******************************************

The rowboat drifted toward the camp.  It had guards, and they had time to be ready for an attack.  Arrows started to rain down on them, mostly missing everyone.  One hit Charity, but deflected off her rapier hilt.

“I’d suggest,” Charity called out, “That you drop your weapons!  We’ve just defeated Ottoman, and the likes of you won’t pose even the threat of a challenge!”

Two of the guards looked at each other before raising their bows again.  The crew made it to the shallow waters, and then rushed up through the water to the beach.

As she approached the guards, Charity began to sing a dirge.  In it, pirates came to raid a small fortress.  The defenders were all slaughtered.  The guards, on hearing it, began to become a bit nervous.

Orange rushed ashore, and speared one of the guards with his trident.  Aoife gutted another, and Khadija ran to take cover behind one of the tents.  

“If you don’t give up now,” Charity said, “These two will do the same to all of you.  It wont do you any good to die over this.”

“What do you want?”  An older man stepped out of one of the tents, he wore the work clothes of a Samu teacher.

Charity smiled.  “We just want the treasure.”

“And if we let you have it?  You’ll leave?”

“That’s the plan.”

The man thought about it for a moment, and as the guards made to attack again, he stopped them.  “Give them what they want.”

“But sir!” one of the soldiers protested.

“No, do you feel like dying?  We’re outnumbered here.”

“Wise man.  Put all of your weapons on the ground here.”  

As the men started to comply, under the watchful eye of the pirates, Charity noticed one of the scholars try to sneak out of the back of one of the tents and run off into the woods.

“Stop him!” Charity shouted.

Khadija bounded after the man.  Even wounded, she was much more swift, and she brought him down at the edge of the treeline.  She searched his body, and came back carrying something.

“You see what foolishness gets you?” Charity asked the scholar.  “Now, we are going to take these weapons, and a few other things, and we’ll leave.  Anyone who tries to follow us will suffer the same fate.”

Orange grabbed up the bundle of weapons, while the rest ransacked the tents.  Once everyone was loaded up, they boarded the rowboat, and headed back for the ship.

“And remember lads!”  Charity taunted, “When you get back home, and your employers ask what happened, be sure to tell them that you were bested by Lady Charity, queen of the seas!”


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 17, 2005)

My apologies for the delay in getting this one out, but as occasionally happens, Real Life (tm) got in the way.


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 25, 2005)

Chapter 5 A brush with destiny

“The captain’s going to be angry we were late.”  Samson remarked.

“Let him be, we had bigger fish to fry.” Charity replied.

The captain’s ship was pulling alongside, grapples were flung across, linking the two, and gangplanks extended.  On the far side of the ship, bodies were being tossed overboard.  As soon as the two ships were joined, Captain Perri strode aboard.  He headed straight for Samson.

“What the hell took you so long?” he demanded.

“Ease off, Cap.  We had a tangle with something not far off.”

“Aye,” Orange agreed, “Ottoman, we think.”

“You fought Ottoman?”  The captain’s disbelief was evident.  “I suppose that would slow you up.  It’s amazing you survived, then.  Most ships this small are never seen again.  How is everyone then?”

“Most of us are okay, Khadija over there got pinned by a trident, but I think she’s all right.”

At the bow of the ship, Charity and the others were going through the pile of loot they brought off the island last night.  Kor, thinking he wasn’t seen, started to slip the tablet that one of the scholars had tried to escape with into his tunic.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Charity hissed.  “We fought like hell to get that!”

“Shush girl!” Kor answered, looking over his shoulder to see how close anyone else was.  “This is important.  Give me time to look it over, we can work out the details later.  If the cap gets it, he’ll just sell it.  Trust me.”

Charity noticed that perhaps for the first time since she had met him, he genuinely seemed excited.  He was wide awake, and desperately wanted to keep that piece for himself.  He had never acted this animated before.  However, before she could say anything, the captain walked up.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

Charity looked at Kor, saw the panic evident in his eyes, and nodded slightly.  “He’s just upset.  I found out he has a date when we get back to the Cove.  He didn’t want anyone to know about it.”  

One of Perri’s eyebrows lifted.  “Is this true, Kor?”

“Um…Well, I...That is to say, what I do IS my business while I’m off the ship.  I was just asking her…What type of flowers a possible date might like.”  He lowered his eyes, intentionally not looking at Charity.

The captain looked at Kor, then to Charity, then back to Kor.  “You mean you wanted…no, never mind.  It’s none of my business.  Get this stuff stowed below, both of you. And no funny business.”

As the captain walked off, Charity fixed Kor with a glare that seemed to say ‘You’d better make this worth it.’

*********************************************

After seeing what kind of shape Khadija was in, and taking stock of what supplies had been damaged in the two fights, Perri decided that the crew should go ashore.  The town nearby was small, and named Millerton.  They were to go get some replacement supplies, including whatever Lorenzo needed to treat Khadija’s wounds.  Of course, Khadija wouldn’t listen to the doctor, and insisted on going as well.

An hour later, the group came to an area that seemed perfect for an ambush.  Tall grass to one side, a steep, boulder strewn hill on the other, and half a dozen tough looking thugs across the road.

The tallest one, a lanky looking fellow, raised a hand in greeting.

“You there!” he shouted.  “We represent the Dema guild.  We own these roads.  4 silver to pass by.”

“For that price, we can just take the scenic route and avoid the roads.”  Charity answered.

“You could do that,” came the reply.  “But you’d be a fool.  They say the dead walk here.”

“What harm could come of us not using your road?”

“Try it and see.” He smirked.  “Our price is only 4 silver.  Or perhaps...”  He looked over each of the women of the group.  “A few minutes with each of you, and we’d waive the fee.”

“You’d have to take that up with the others.  I’m not interested.”

“Maybe you’d better just let us by, We’d hate to have to mess up those nice cloaks of yours.” Dunstan growled.

“That was a mistake friend, the Dema guild does not take threats kindly.”

“We don’t have time for this!” Dunstan shouted, then drawing his axe, he charged the group.

Charity, on seeing that a fight was about to break out, dove into the tall grasses, and began to work her way toward the group of thugs.  As a result, she couldn’t see what anyone else was doing.  She heard swords being swung, and the leader commenting “Heh, you’re pretty good.  Surrender, and we could make use of a tough guy like you.”

A moment later, one of the bandits shouted “Hey boss! They got the high ground!”  

“Just stay out of the way of that thing, then.  Now kill them!”

Based on the sounds of the voice, Charity had gotten behind the group, she took a cautionary look over the tops of the grass in time to see Aoife and Ren up on the hillside shove a large boulder off a ledge.  It tumbled down and crushed several of the bandits.  Charity chose that moment to spring up out of the grass and attack.

The bandit knew she was coming though, and turned to meet her as she re-appeared.  He deflected her attack, and then used her momentum to knock her to the ground.  He looks to his leader.  “Can I?” he asks with a grin.

“Go ahead, we need to increase our ranks anyway.”

The bandit turned his gaze back to her, his grin widening.  His mouth was full of unusually sharp teeth.  He lunged at her, aiming to sink those teeth into her neck, and Charity rolled aside at the last moment.  She kipped back up onto her feet, ducked his sword slash, and struck back, missing.

After several thrusts and parries, she realized that Lorenzo was flanking with her.  “Once again, Ren?” she said smiling, as she dodged aside.

“Seems so.” He answered trying to finish one of the bandits.

Taking advantage of the momentary lull in her concentration, one of the bandits jumped, and she felt her shoulder chill as its teeth found its mark.  The things face covered in her blood, it let loose an exultant howl.  Charity found she couldn’t move.  All she could do is watch as the fight continued.  

It didn’t take long.  Orange was also bitten, and frozen in place, but once the trick was out of the bag, no one else let them get close enough.  Lorenzo was cut down, and then bitten.  Eventually, though, Dunstans rage, and Aoife’s tricks hurt enough of the bandits that the rest retreated.

As the feeling slowly returned, and her body began to respond again, she haltingly went to Ren’s side.  She didn’t know much about healing someone, but she knew that if he kept bleeding, he could die.  She rummaged through his kit, found some bandages, and began wrapping his wounds.  Nearby the others were doing the same.  

Eventually, Ren awoke.  He checked his bandages, then dealt with Charity’s wound.  One by one, everyone was bandaged, and the sorry looking troop continued into town.

“Well,” Charity said.  “At least we’ll have a good tale to tell the captain.”

As they walked, Charity felt flushed.  She attributed it to the fight they had just had and didn’t think any more of it.

****************************************

As the group neared the town, a patrol found them, took them to an inn.  There they were fed, cleaned, and given a place to sleep.  It turned out that the Dema guild had been bothering travelers for weeks, and no one had been able to stop them.  The group that they had just killed was the most anyone had accomplished since it all started.

Charity didn’t sleep well that night.  Her temperature was up, and she was sweating too much.  She was tired the next morning, when they bought the needed supplies and made their way back to the ship.  It was nearly noon, when Ren laid Charity down on a cot in the sick bay and began watching over her.

She didn’t resist at all, and fell back into a fitful sleep.


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 27, 2005)

The next chapter I couldnt wait on.  It was a very appropriate chapter given that next Monday (my usal update time) is Halloween, but it was also a very important chapter for my PC Charity.  So without further ado, I present Chapter 6.


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 27, 2005)

*Chapter 6 Hunger and Death*

Chapter 6: Hunger and Death

_Hunger.  Burning deep within.  Hunger so deep it hurts, it aches.  Like a need unfulfilled it continues to bother, continues to burn, insistent that it be resolved or drive one mad.
_
Charity moaned in her sleep.  Lorenzo put down what he was doing, and moved to check on her.  When he touched her cheek, he could feel the fever was still there, and getting worse.  Lorenzo made up a special drug, the same he’d been giving her since yesterday when the returned from fighting the Dema Guild.  He lifted her head, and gently put the concoction to her lips.  The burning liquid caused her to cough for a moment, then she fell back into sleep.  Ren took up vigil next to her bed, very worried.

_Around her, the crew lie dead.  As she moved about the ship, she found every one of her friends, their throat torn out like some crazed beast had gotten aboard.  She didn’t understand.

“Why me?” she called out into the mist.  “Why did they die, but I live?”

There was Khadija, slumped over a capstan, her back ripped to bloody ribbons, as if the beast caught her from behind.  Aoife was nearby, her sword arm ripped clean away.  Dunstan and Orange…All that was left of them was a piece of the barbarian’s kilt.  She went downstairs, the massacre had come here too.  Crewmen lay over their hammocks, some still as if they were asleep, as if they did not know their killer had even been there.  

She pushed open the door to Ren’s quarters.  He was at his desk, laying face down, asleep.  There were no tears on his arms or back.

“Oh, Rennie!” she said.  “You made it!”

She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, tried to shake him awake.  His hand slipped off the desk, and hung weakly toward the floor, blood dripping off of it.

“No.  No, no, no.”  She shook her head as if it could clear away the madness, and she pulled on his shoulder, making him lean back in his chair.  There was blood everywhere, his throat gone.  She backed away, tears stinging her eyes.  

The corpse looked at her, and in Ren’s voice, asked “Why?”

At that moment, the hunger hit her.  She doubled over from the pain, and that was when she noticed the blood on her hands.  It was all over her blouse, her hair was matted with it.

Dead Ren stood from his place, “Why?”

She screamed…
_
Ren nearly fell out of his chair, he had fallen asleep, and her scream was a horrible shock.  Charity was sitting up in her bed, eyes wide in terror.  Her hair was matted down because she had been sweating in her sleep.  He picked himself up and went to her.  When she calmed a bit, she realized where she was, and looked at Ren.

“Ren?” she asked.

“It’s okay, you’re aboard ship.  I’ve been taking care of you.”  He tried to push her down into the bed.  “You need sleep.”

She didn’t lay down, instead she pulled him to her, and embraced him, burying her face into his neck.  

“Ren, thank the gods you are here.  The dreams, they’re…”

“I know, it’s the fever.  You’ll be okay, but you need sleep.”  

She still didn’t move, save only to nod.  She could smell him, feel the skin of his neck, the strength of his arms.  She realized a fire had started to burn within her.  She held him tighter, pulling him to her.

“I’m hungry, Rennie…”

Forcibly, he pushed her back.  “You’re in no shape for that, you need rest.  Here, take this, it will help with your fever.”  

He held out a piece of black root, offered it to her.  She looked at it doubtfully at first, then with a slight grin, took it.  She kissed his fingers as she did so, working her way further and further down.  

Ren was getting uncomfortable.  He could not deny feelings for her, but she was sick, and he had duties.  Nonetheless, he was beginning to take an interest in what she was doing.

Until she bit him.  She clamped down with all her strength, and pain flared up his arm.  

Khadija appeared at the door, “Ren, I need you to...” she stood aghast at what she saw.

Charity saw her, and hissed at her.  Ren, surprised, fell backward, hitting his head on the edge of his work desk.

Charity’s voice took on a low tone, almost a moan as she looked at Khadija and said “I’m huuungry.”  Then she leapt across the cabin, feline in her movments.  Khadija barely had time to dodge aside, before Charity was out of the room, and on her way on deck.

“Stop her!” Ren shouted.

Aoife, hearing something, rushed for the stairs, sword drawn.  It proved useful.  The two eyed each other for a moment.  Then Charity hissed, and charged up the stairs.  Out of reflex, Aoife swung at her shipmate, opening a new wound, and knocking her down the stairs.

“I’ve been waiting for that a long time.” Aoife said.

Together, the three of them got Charity back into the bed, and for safety, Ren tied her down.  He set to binding her wounds.

“What was that, Ren?” asked Khadija.

“The fever isn’t getting any better.  It’s affecting her mind.  Better tell the captain.”

Charity struggled against her bonds, mewled a bit, and fell unconscious.

“Well, at least she’s resting now.”  Lorenzo cleared the room.  “You can’t help her here.  Go back to work.  I’ll watch her.”

Khadija looked uncertain, but then shrugged and went out.  Aoife, however, stayed behind.  

“Are you sure, after all, she got past you once.”

“Yes, she’s bound now.  She’ll stay like that till I can cure her.”

“I still don’t trust her.”

“You never did.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who came aboard this ship with a holier than thou attitude.  If you ask me, she got what she deserved.”

“It’s not her fault!” Ren shouted.  Then, more calmly.  “She was raised in an environment where your profession is frowned upon.  It’s what she’s known all her life.  She can’t throw that away over the course of a week.”

“That doesn’t mean she has to treat me like garbage.”

“Maybe you’re right.  But now isn’t the time to discuss it.  We’ll be fine, she won’t get out of those ropes.  Go make sure they don’t crash the ship.”

Aoife looked at Charity, then turned and left.  Ren began to bandage his wounded fingers.

*****************************************************************

Her unconscious struggles had settled down, and she was truly asleep for the first time since the fight.  Ren checked her fever, and found it was going down.  Satisfied, he sat at his desk, and too tired to resist anymore, laid his head down.  Soon he was asleep.

When she heard his breathing change, Charity opened her eyes.  Slowly, carefully, she began to wriggle her way out of her ropes.  She could see through the portal that night had fallen.  It took her a long time, but she finally freed herself.  Carefully, she crept out of the bed, and looked longingly at Ren.  She licked her lips.  Then she closed her eyes, muttered something barely audible to herself, and began to creep out of the room, hunched over, like some sort of animal.

She could smell people.  They were everywhere.  Such an array of scents, each one pricked up her hunger more and more.  She turned and made her way to the bunk area.

The hammock closest to the door was Samson’s.  Inwardly, Charity grinned as she stood to take him.  She was no more than a foot from him, when her foot caught on something.  It was a tripwire, and several tin cans were pulled from a shelf, causing a racket.  Distracted, she didn’t see Samson wake.  He threw his dagger, pinning her heart in one quick snap.

She looked down in disbelief.  Her legs refused to hold her up anymore.  She stumbled backward into the wall the shelf was on, and slumped down to the floor.

Samson, realizing who it was, started shouting for help.  “Lorenzo!  Wounded!”

Moments later, most of the crew were crowded around, and Lorenzo had to force his way between them.  His eyes were still bleared with sleep, but that didn’t stop him from recognizing her.  “Charity.”  He whispered, the strength gone out of him.

She looked up at him.  “Rennie. I...” she said and died.

“By hells man, what did you do!”  Ren glared at Samson.

“I, I just reacted.”

Ren rushed the man, grabbing him by his shirt.

“What the hells did you do!”

“She came at me in the night, I didn’t even see who it was till later.  I’m sorry, Ren.”

Ren let go of him, and turned back to Charity’s lifeless form.  Bitter tears stung his eyes, as he picked her up.  Refusing all help, he carried her back to his room, and shut and locked the door.

************************************************

The next morning, the ship put to shore nearby, and built a funeral pyre.  They laid the bundled form on top of it.  One by one, Samson, the Captain and the rest said a few words over her body.  Then Ren set the torch to the pile, sending her on her way.


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## iwatt (Oct 27, 2005)

Yeah..two updates in a week.

Nice portrayal of the hunger by the way.


At this rate you're going to catch up with your seesion in no time   

By the way, I think this has been my favorite chapter so far.


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## Gold Roger (Oct 27, 2005)

Hey, just stopping by to tell you that your writing is really enjoyable to read. Keep up the god work.


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## GM_Brad (Oct 27, 2005)

This is a fun story hour.  I hope you keep it going.  

Thanks!

GM_Brad


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 27, 2005)

At this point, I plan to keep going as long as I have logs to refer to (which means that as long as I am in the group, Ill keep it going).

Happy Halloween!


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## Tolen Mar (Oct 28, 2005)

*Chapter 6.5 A bridge...*

Before I write up chapter 7, there are a few things I need to tell you.

As I have been writing this from one Character's point of view, and plan on continuing, there arose a certain issue from the Death of Charity.

Obviously, I had to wait for a new character to be written in.

So there was a good chunk of the next session where I observed the action waiting for my new cue.  In that time, the crew loaded their ship back up and made it back to the cove, where they told the captain what had happened.

After the funeral, they divvied up her things, finding a few personal items that bespoke of her noble birth.

Once they make it back to the Cove, Captain Perri gives the group a bit of shore leave, so they can maybe drink Charity off their minds a bit.  It is while they are in town that they find out someone has been looking for Perri.

Also, an earlier encounter mentioned by Ren comes back to haunt him when, in a tavern, he is beset by a band of bandits who seem to know him.  The crew of course backs him up, and this well dressed stranger steps up to the fight...

Well, Ill get to that part next time.  

Oh, and there are a few secrets I have been made privy to.  O the things my DM is up to...


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## Tolen Mar (Nov 4, 2005)

My apologies for taking so long this week, but I wanted to be sure I got this chapter correct.  Look for a full-scale update sometime a little later on today.


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## Tolen Mar (Nov 4, 2005)

*Chapter 7 The Baron*

Chapter Seven: The Baron

Baron Jean de Seguzzo stood at the bow of the ship as it navigated the narrow entry to the cove.  He couldn’t help but note its position.  As a baron of Mala, he was part of its military, and he knew that pirates plagued the region.  The cove was one hideout he had never before found.  

And no wonder, when he thought back on the number of bribes he had to make, the sheer cost of getting someone to give him the information, and the expense of pretending to be someone other than a Mala, he was not surprised.  The governors of the cove took their privacy seriously.  He was here on more personal business, but once it was resolved, he now knew where to find this hive, and he would come back.

It was just like the woman to leave.  The Veranese were very headstrong.  The note she’d left all but demanded he come after her.  Jean was mystified, as well as angered.  After all, life would have been luxurious for her.  All she had to do was be beautiful, hang on his arm at parties, and in return she would have enjoyed the wealth of the Seguzzo family.  It was true that she came from money herself, but the Veranese were a small family.  The marriage was less about love than it was joining their two lands.  It would have given him power in the council to make real change, a change that might have freed some of his people from the oppression the council enforced.  

He thought back to the lat time he had seen her.  He had hand picked her from all of the duchess’ granddaughters because of her appearance.  The red hair, the fair skin.  Standing next to him in a flowing gown would have projected just exactly the kind of image a rising Baron needed to sway support.  She would come back with him, and she would learn to love him.  If she didn’t then at least she’d learn to enjoy the life he could provide for her.  The two of them would produce heirs fair and strong enough to take what he was doing now and turn the land of Mala into a completely new place.

***************************************************************

After the ship docked, Jean spread a few more coin around, asking pointed questions.  This place was a mess of squalor, and its stench burned at Jeans nostrils.  His noble bearing drew more than one unfriendly glance as he passed, and he knew that more than a few were thinking they would have a chance to take some of his gold, whether he wanted them to or not.  If they tried, they would be surprised.  His armor was more than a simple protection.  It was a sign of his skill, his power, and of his transition to manhood.  For generations, the Seguzzo’s passed the art of armory down from father to son.  They learned together how to fight in it, until their motions were as smooth as a hind on the meadow.  Anyone that tried to pick a fight with him would soon find how much trouble they had raised for themselves.

Nonetheless, the sight of a fully armored man walking the streets was attracting attention.  He could only hope that news of his requests were making it to the right ears.  No one seemed to remember more than a fragment or two of the woman he was searching for, but with what he pieced together, he learned that most likely, it was a Captain Raymond Perri who had her.  Apparently, he had taken her as a slave.  Jean did not think that was terribly likely given her upbringing, she would never allow it, but he made it a point to find the ship.

The ship had left port two days ago, and no one knew when it would be back.  He was directed to the ‘Blind Sailor’, a tavern not far from the docks.  He was told that Perri’s crew often went there after a voyage to relax.  Jean paid for a room at the inn across the way and began to wait.

Every night he would sit in the back, and watch the patrons come in and out.  A few times he would stop one of them and ask his questions, but aside from what he already knew, he learned little.  

“Aye, I know’em.” One half blind patron said one night.  “He’s got this one woman whorin’ herself out for coin.  Everything she makes, he gets.  She’s a real beauty that one.  Got to say I took advantage of her…’services’ more than once.”

Disgusted, Jean paid for the man’s drink and left him behind.  He could hear the man shouting out crude details of a late night’s adventure.  Perri had a lot to answer for.

On the fourth night, as Jean was about to give up and retire to his room, a small band of favorites wandered in.  A handsome young man, a bruiser of a barbarian, two lithe women, one looking like a desert traveler, the other with exotic looks, plus one more man, who carried his sword on his hip.  They were regulars, the others in the tavern shouted their greetings.  The young man separated himself from the group.  He sat at the bar drinking alone.  The rest found a table, and, looking morose, also began to drink.

At the bar, the young man and the barkeep exchange a few words.  The bartender pointed at Jean, and the young man looked around.  Jean knew then that these were the people he was looking for.  He was about to stand and introduce himself, when another band entered the tavern.  They were a mixed bunch, all them wiry, none of them well cleaned.  They carried an assortment of weaponry.  They looked around, spotted the man at the bar, and surrounded him.  Jean watched.  If a fight broke out, he would learn how they fought, always good information to have.

“This the one?” the biggest asked.

“Yeah, boss, he’s the one that tried to steal from me.”

“Grab him, take him out back and show him what happens to people who mess with the Dema guild.”

The two made a grab for him, and his companions moved to stop them.  Daggers came out, as well as swords, and the fight began.

“Not here!” shouted the barkeep.  He ducked when a mug flew past his head, and then beat a hasty retreat.

From his vantage point, Jean watched the group fight.  The young man was quick, slicing one of the men’s gullets open before either could react.  The desert woman, and the exotic sliced into the other small man, blood flying across the room.  The big one cursed, drew his own sword and started swinging.  Some of the bar patrons fled.  Others, seeing brawl beginning, grinned and joined in.  In a matter of seconds, virtually everyone in the place was fighting someone.  

The crew Jean was watching was outnumbered.  They couldn’t give him information if they were killed, so he drew his sword, and stepped up.  In two quick slices, he had downed two of the bar patrons, and punched a third in the face with the pommel of his sword.  By this time, the young man had gotten up on the bar and was fencing with a few of the patrons.  The two women were like whirlwinds as they sliced, dodged, jumped, and somehow managed to not be hit.  The others were holding their own as well.

Jean downed another as he waded toward the bar.  His blade drove home in the big mans back, and one by one the other fighters surrendered.  The fight was over, the tavern a shambles.  

“This wasn’t your fight.”  The young man said.

“No, it wasn’t.  You looked you might need help.”

“We could have handled it.  Who are you anyway?”

“I am Baron Jean de Seguzzo, of Mala.”

Behind him, the exotic women and the barbarian both rolled their eyes.

The man held out his hand.  “Name’s Lorenzo.  That’s Dunstan there, Aoife, Khadija, and Orange.”

Jean nodded at each of them in turn.  His eyes lingered overlong on Aoife’s features, but then he turned back to Lorenzo.

“I saw you talking to the bartender.” Jean said.  “I think you are the ones I’ve been looking for.”

“Why is that?” Orange asked, looking down from his height.

“I need to speak with your captain.  Captain Perri?”

The group exchanged glances.  Ren was the first to speak.

“Why do you need to see him?”

“My business with him is my own.  He has something of mine.”

Once again, they all looked to one another.  Jean could see the distrust in their eyes, but that was to be expected.  First he was Mala, and they were pirates, second no one knew him nor he any of them.  If he weren’t so confident in his abilities, he might have been worried about putting his life in the hands of such obviously capable strangers.

“Yeah,” Ren said eventually.  “We can take you to see him.  We should go back anyway.  Won’t be many folks who are happy with this mess.”

***************************************************************

At the docks, Jean stepped toward the gangplank of the ship.  The exotic looking woman, Aoife, was blocking the way.  “You don’t go aboard until the captain says you can.”

Khadija ran up the ramp and retrieved the captain.  He stepped down to the dock, looked Jean up and down.  “Good evening, sir.  Can I do something for you?”

“I’d prefer it if we could speak in private, captain.”

Perri looked the crew over, and then responded, “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of them.”

“Captain, I must insist.  This matter only concerns myself, you and one other.”

“That’s not going to happen.  Either you tell me who you are and what you want, or you go back to where you came.”

Jean sighed.  One day, the pirate would get what he deserved.  “My name is Baron Jean de Suguzzo, of Mala.  Word is that you have slaves aboard.  A woman among them.  I’ve come to get her.  I will pay your ransom if I have to.”

“Slaves?”  Perris raised an eyebrow.  “Sorry, Baron, closest thing I have to a slave is Aoife there, and that’s just cause her father owes me.  You’ve got the wrong ship.”

“I don’t believe I do.  Her name is Lady Charity Veranese.  She is to be my wife.”

“Charity?” Ren choked.  The mood around the baron turned icy.  

The captain drew a long breath.  “Baron, you are mistaken.  She wasn’t a slave of mine.  She joined my crew willingly.”

“Willingly?”  Jean asked.  “You are trying to tell me she wanted to be a…a…”

“A what?” asked Dunstan, stepping forward with a glare in his eye.

“A sailor.” Jean finished.  “That doesn’t matter, then, I must see her.”

Perri waved Dunstan down.  “That won’t be possible, Baron.”

“Why not?”

“Charity was recently taken.  These fellows here were ambushed by ghouls.  She…didn’t make it.”

“Dead?”  Jean could feel his political plans crumbling around him.  He had already wasted too much time tracking her down, when he should have been making his case before the council.  Now the whole trip was wasted.  “I must have her body.  I’ll return her to her family.”

“She had ghoul fever,” Lorenzo told him.  “I couldn’t save her.  We had to burn the body…”  He paused for a moment, trying to hold back tears.  “To keep the infection from taking hold of anyone else.”

“I can’t believe this.”  Jean said, stunned.  “I followed her trail for a month, found this place.”

Perri placed a hand on the Baron’s shoulder.  “If it helps lad, she was as much a part of this crew as the rest of us.  We all miss her.”

Jean shrugged the man off.  “Then I suppose there’s nothing for it.”  Jean muttered a few things under his breath, it was almost like he was having a conversation with himself.  Everyone watched his odd behavior.  Then he turned to face Perri again.  “Captain, I would hire your ship.  I need to return to Mala as quickly as possible.”

His request came from an unexpected direction.  Jean certainly wasn’t showing much remorse.  “I… don’t think that’s such a good idea, Baron.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you, of course.  I need to take word back to her grandmother of course, and there’s the time I’ve lost…damnit, this is a problem.”

“You can tell he’s broken up, eh?” Ren whispered to Khadija.

Khadija just nodded.


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## Tolen Mar (Nov 5, 2005)

*Chapter 8 Love and Mutiny*

Chapter 8 Mutinous Dogs!

Captain Perri wouldn’t take his ship on a mission such as Jean wanted him to go on.  Instead he sent his backup ship, the Malasian warship.  Of course, it would be some time before Jean knew that this ship used to belong to the navy of Mala.

As Samson turned the ship to the south, Jean decided it might be time to talk to some of the crew, and find out a few more details about Charity’s death.

Khadija and Kor were conspiring about something, and the rest were busy with their on duties, so he wandered below decks and wound up outside Lorenzo’s medical quarters.  He knocked politely before opening the door and walking in.  Lorenzo looked up from his work, and with an indifferent sort of sigh, turned back to it.

“Something I can help you with Baron?” he asked.

“Possibly.  I’ve been listening to the crew.  It would seem that Charity was well liked here.”

Lorenzo put down his quill, and rubbed his eyes.  “Yes.” He agreed.  “She was.”

“Do you know I never met her?  At least, not a true meeting.  I was introduced.  Our marriage was arranged by myself and her grandmother.” He noticed the look on Lorenzo’s face.  “Does that seem odd to you?”

Ren leaned forward and clasped his hands together.  “No, not really.”

“Anyway, I came here to find out a bit about what she was like, I thought you might…”

“Might what?”  Ren interrupted.

“Tell me of her while she was here.  I’d like to know.”

“Well, one of the others might be able to tell you more.  I’m not feeling particularly well right now.” Ren stood.  “So unless you have a medical emergency…”  With his eyes, he indicated the door.

Jean raised an eyebrow.  If Lorenzo was going to play it like that, he could see there was going to be a lot of work needed to create a workable relationship.  Jean nodded, and turned away.  ‘Then again,’ he thought, ‘I’ll only be aboard ship for a couple of days, so it really won’t matter.’

************************************************

“I feel like a song!” Charity declared.  She got up and walked past the nobleman in the crowd to where the musicians were sitting.  

Ren watched with amusement as she crossed the room.  Like many of the other patrons, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.  She talked to the band, and passed a couple of coins to them.  They started a new tune, one that started slow.

She danced.  It was easy to tell that she had danced most of her life.  She had more grace in her movements than any woman Ren had ever seen.  She would flash her eyes at him as she danced, that little smile on the corner of her mouth.  She was almost hypnotic, and Ren’s heart swelled as he watched.  

He hadn’t made a move yet.  Ren wasn’t the cowardly type, but for some reason he had never made his feelings for her known.

The music sped up, and so did she, her hips taking on a new rhythm to match.  The crowd had begun to clear an area for her so she would have room to dance, several were beginning to clap to the music.  Ren was surprised when he noticed Dunstan was among those clapping along.  He felt a momentary pang of jealousy.  

The pace of the music was becoming frenzied, her movements so quick, it was hard to keep up with her.  Her booted feet were making their own addition to the music, raising the whole act to a crescendo that would have made her famous in any theatre.  She was sweating now, too, and her hair was starting to cling to her face, but still she danced, she whirled, she jumped, clapped.  She was perfection in motion, and Ren could not help but feel that he would do anything for her.  Anything.

Then she shouted, and stomped once, and the music ended.  The crowd began applause in earnest, and slowly, the spell broken, they each returned to their own business.  She walked back toward Ren.  She was breathing heavily as she leaned past him to get the bartender to pour her another pint.  Smiling, the bartender told her that one was on the house.  She emptied it in one go, then sat next to Ren, leaning back against the bar.

She looked at him, smiled, and brushed one lock of sweat soaked hair out of her face.

It was but one moment Lorenzo would never forget.

**********************************************************

Samson was not happy with the turn of events.  “Sailing into Mala,” he muttered, “with one of their ships, and one of their nobles.  It’s suicide.”

Aoife defended her captain.  “Well, I’m sure Perri has a plan.  This is a risk, true.  But he wouldn’t take it on if he...or we…couldn’t handle it.”

“Nonetheless.  Baron!” he called.  “Would you come here please?”

Jean walked up to the wheel, where Samson stood.  “What is it?”

“Do you live in the main city, or can we drop you at any port?  I don’t like the looks of all those warships out there.”

Jean looked out to sea.  Out on the horizon were several war sloops.  They were definitely Mala ships, but the Baron could not afford to be seen on a pirate vessel.  His reputation at home was already shaky enough.  “I live in the capital, or at least near by.  The closer we can get, the better.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.  If I drop you at the city of the dead, can you make the rest of the trip yourself?”

“Well it would add two days, but I suppose I could.”

“Did you just say city of the dead?”  Aoife asked.

“Yeah, he did.” Jean answered.  “It’s a religious city.  Its actually named Azarial.  It used to be a demon prince’s palace, but the First banished him and built his own palace atop the ruins.  Legend says the dead still walk here.”

“And you just want to drop him there?”

“As good a place as any.  We need supplies anyway.”

“I don’t like it.”  Aoife said.

“Don’t worry, lady.  Your precious skin isn’t in danger.  You might even find work here.”

“What do you mean by that?”  she said, indignant.

“I know what it is you do.  I’ve met satisfied customers.”

“How dare you!”  

“That settles it.”  Samson adjusted the ships course.  “Baron, we’re putting you off here.”

“My apologies lady.” Jean backed down quickly.  “I meant no harm.  Samson, our arrangement was for further down the coast.”

“And you are dragging us into dangerous territory.  I’m cutting our losses here.”

“I get the idea you are trying to get rid of me.”

“So what if I am? You can go on your merry way without us.  Surely someone like you doesn’t need a bodyguard?”

Jean could only glare.  Yes, one day, this particular pirate would pay.  It really didn’t matter if they put to shore here or not.  In fact, the cold reception he’d gotten from the crew since he arrived made it so he wanted to rid of this ship himself.  He went below and started packing his things.  Once done, he went on deck and watched the coastline approach.

Kor came to the railing beside him.  “Samson’s putting you off, is he?”

Jean nodded.  “It’s okay, I know people here.”

“Good.  You know, you shouldn’t judge us by Samson.  He’s not on good terms with everyone else.  He’s done some things in the past, that really has more than a few of us upset.”

“He’s an insufferable coward who wants me off his ship, so he can run off with his tail between his legs.  I’ll go.”

“Its just, you remind him of Charity.  He’s the one that killed her.”

Jean frowned, and looked at Samson.  “What do you mean?”

“When she had the ghoul fever.  He pinned her to the deck with a dagger, rather than let Ren try to cure her.”

“He killed her?”  Anger began to boil.  Because of Samson, his tenuous grip on power in Mala had been thrown away.

“He claimed it’s because she attacked him.”  Kor said, watching Jean’s reaction.  “We were all asleep.  By the time we knew anything was going on, she was dead, his dagger in her heart.  All we have is his word.”

There were a few moments of silence, before Kor began again.  “He is a very harsh man.  He used to work for the inquisition.”

“He worked for the inquisition?  Why did you tolerate him?”

“Well it isn’t like we had a lot of choice.  He’s one of the captain’s favorites.”

“All the more reason for me to go ashore.”

“Perhaps I have a reason for you to not go.”

“What do you mean?” Jean narrowed his eyes.

“Well you did some research looking for us.  Did you really think someone wouldn’t look into your past?  He spilled the beans.  There are wanted posters going up.  300 gold pieces, for you.  Seems someone told the council you had become a pirate.”

“That son of a bitch.”

Kor nodded.  “Most of the crew would love to be rid of him.  You see, she found a treasure map.  Word is she was the one who could rally the crew together to find it.  He’d never go for it himself, not with this crew.  Rumour has it, he killed her so he wouldn’t have to share.”

Jean was so angered that he didn’t notice at all that Kor was leading him down a dangerous path.  It didn’t matter.  Within moments, he was calling Samson out.

Samson came down the stairs, his brows furrowed.  “What’s all this then?”

“You killed her, didn’t you?”

“What?  Of course I did, she was out of her mind.  I mean I only tried to wound her.  What difference does it make to you?”

“You stupid callous moron.  Because of you, the oppression over Mala could become worse.”

“Hey, I was just defending myself.  You’d have done the same.”

The rest of the crew by now had noticed a commotion and were starting to gather around.

“Now I know why my presence here makes you uncomfortable.  You recognized me.  You were afraid I’d recognize you.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You knew she was from Mala, too.  You knew that she might turn you in as the criminal you are.”  Then to the rest, “He killed Charity so she couldn’t turn him in!”

Samson growled, going for his weapon.  “I’d quiet down if I were you.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Someone like you wouldn’t know what this is all about.  Stand down before I make you stand down.”

“I know all about it.  My family was persecuted for decades because of people like you.”

“Well if your family hadn’t been sorcerors, nothing would have happened to you.”

Jean, in anger, reached out and grabbed Samson by the throat.  Beneath his armor, his muscles bunched as he lifted the man off the deck with one hand.  “We were not sorcerors!” he yelled.

Samson’s face began to redden as Jean cut off his air supply.

Dunstan was worried, he tried to restore some calm.  “Look, just because he worked for the church…”

“The same church that slaughtered millions when they didn’t bow the same gods!”

“Still…” Dunstan was unsure.

“I may not like the man, but that’s no reason to kill him!” said Khadija.

“He killed her, because she had power, even if she turned her back it.”

Samson choked out a few words.  “It isn’t true.  This is mutiny!”

“Jean,” Orange said.  “He came to our aid before.  He’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” Kor said.  “Were you there when Charity died?  Samson was always jealous of you.”

“His throw was perfectly aimed.  Ill admit that.”  Orange said.

“Tell me, sir.”  Orange said.  “Did your church perform human sacrifices?”

“His kind did.” Jean answered.

Samson could only sputter some curses.  Behind him, Ren was thoughtful, tears trying to well up in his eyes.

“No one should sacrifice another, its no better than murder.” Orange said, anger beginning to grow.  “There’s only one punishment for murder.”

The rest of the crew were starting to mumble their own opinions.  Dangling several inches above the deck, Samson noticed, and his face paled.

“It’s beginning to look bad for you, Samson.”

As if waiting for a cue, Lorenzo stepped up behind Samson, and in one movement drew two daggers, shoving them deep into Samson’s back.  This is for Charity you son of a bitch!”

Samson gurgled, and then died.  Jean threw the limp body overboard.  The ship had mutinied.


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## Tolen Mar (Nov 5, 2005)

Thanks to NaNo showing me how easy it is to write each day (twice a day, no less), expect more updates until I can catch up with the regular sessions.  It shouldnt take too long if I can do a session each day (less than a week, I imagine).

I have three goals:

1) catch up on ghostsea.
2) hit 50,000 for Nano.
3) keep writing once those two goals are met.

Enjoy.

(P.S., my apologies for the bits of language here and there.  I try not to use them, but sometimes they are simply too appropriate for the story to leave them out.)


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## Gold Roger (Nov 6, 2005)

Wow, great update. Those are some damn big things happening. Great writing as well.
I'm curious, what classes do the PC's have?
I'm running a IH pirate/seafaring as well, by the way. It just fits.


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## Ryngard (Nov 6, 2005)

Excellent update, ch 8 was really good! I especially liked the insight of how much Ren was into Charity, the dance in the bar was really neat. Keep em coming Tolan!!! 

Lets see if I can remember their classes from the logs:

Aoife - Weapon Master / Berserker
Ren - Man-At-Arms / Arcanist
Jean - Armiger
Charity - Thief
Khadija - Harrier
Dunstan - Man-At-Arms
Orange - Berserker

(Or did I swap Dun and Orange around?!)

Anyways, I think I have it right. I don't think I left anyone out...


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## Tolen Mar (Nov 6, 2005)

I've been thinking of posting character info soon, most likely after I get caught up to the current sessions.

I think you do have Dun and Orange mixed up, but then I always get them mixed up myself anyway.


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## iwatt (Nov 7, 2005)

Dunstan is the big barbarian.

Orange is the Big man at arms with the fork. The vgery big fork.


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## Ryngard (Nov 8, 2005)

Dang! You are (obviously) 100% right. I don't know why I keep switching their names. The biggest problem is that in the logs Dunstan chats in ORANGE text! LOL Throws me off I guess. Dunstan, axes and growling... Orange, trident and spear kha... err... fishing.


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## iwatt (Nov 8, 2005)

Ryngard said:
			
		

> Dang! You are (obviously) 100% right. I don't know why I keep switching their names. The biggest problem is that in the logs Dunstan chats in ORANGE text! LOL Throws me off I guess. Dunstan, axes and growling... Orange, trident and spear kha... err... fishing.





Heh. The only reason I remember is because of the scene were Orange "fished" Khadija (I think it was) out of the water with his fork


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## Ryngard (Nov 8, 2005)

The funny thing is I remember the scenes perfectly, I just still mess up their names due to the log's chat color! Orange should be... well Orange! Dunstan should be blood red or some such.


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