Part 1 - Mist and Shadow
The night was cold, fog and sea mist hung in the air, rare in the high seas, rarer still in the midst of highsun. Not even the second ride of Eleasias but a cold snap sent by the sea bitch herself, a tantrum of foul mood that likely sent many a sailor to the depths this night. A certain sailor was grateful however, for his unintended capture within the bilge of the privateer was becoming likened to a hell in his mind.
In the heat and winds of summer on the sea, a bilge is not a place one wishes to hold up. The fetid water and filth would crash upon the stones weighted in the keel and splash him. The curve of the hull was not enough to give good purchase, and the slime covering all made walking about not only hazardous, but impossible. If not for his many preparations for what he thought of as any eventuality, he might have fallen and drowned. Eleven days; he had hung from a makeshift rope basket made from his climbing harness, some rope and pitons he had driven into the hull and beams to make it possible to rest. His needs for sustenance were seen to by one such magical preparation, a ring most timely. His remaining thirst slaked by another trinket of magical nature which could summon clean fresh water by the grace of Lathander. Though for all the comforts that made it possible to survive such a prison, it should be noted again, it was not his intention to be imprisoned in the bilge of a the ‘Remorse’. Nor was it, by any means comfortable.
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Before...Upon the marking of the autumn equinox more than a year prior, a decision was made by her Ladyship that Horatio would make every attempt possible to find clues to the attacks made upon Alaron’s southern shoreline. His attempts to discover much beyond tales of purple sails were unsuccessful. It was in desperation that the decision was made; to learn of pirates, one must sail the seas. His skills rudimentary, Horatio signed aboard a merchantmen of less than lawful reputation. His attempts at joining a more unsavory crew had been thwarted by his lack of acceptance among sailors.
The Harpy’s Song accepted him, and another as new crew. While he knew what he could read in a book, could pull a rope, listen to orders and know what was to be done, he was not yet a sailor. Naturally quick on his feet, and eager, he did well, though his inexperience was apparent to the first mate and captain, they gave him time. The other not so much. She departed while in port of Waterdeep. His watches would drag on for what seemed like days, days seemed like months, and months as years. When the stars and seasons indicated another equinox was approaching, with not yet to speak in valuable knowledge, he decided it was time to give up, or risk more.
The Harpy had traveled farther than he had thought she would in search of profitable cargo. With the better ports of the Moonshaes closed for weather, which he thought a temporary condition, Captain Verkan accepted commissions to sail to Sword Coast ports as far as Calimport. Calimport, where she was forced to spend weeks replacing a mast and sails due to privateering. The captain had not considered that he might lose his ship, he had the right ‘friends.’ His was a business that dealt with others who prey on shipping, providing a merchanter to deliver goods to open ports. Such men do not easily strike an ally.
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In the bilge...Eleven days the sailor used a curved dagger of the hardest metal he had ever found, to carve small holes. Each hole through a planking, tiny as he could manage, came through against another layer. Twice, he had bored through that second layer releasing a fine flow of flour sprinkling out and covering him. The air seemed to be filling with the powder, which tasted like grain flour. With the darkness, he wasn’t sure what it was, only discovering when he struck a small flame to hold it to the powder. The resulting explosion was not severe enough to damage the ship but was enough simultaneously put out the flame and his consciousness.
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Before...The Captain Verkan chose to make for Athkatla and back into waters in which his flag is better known. His hope, to get a shipment to the north, the ‘Gate or Waterdeep, but he would take a Luskan shipment. His plan to port in Waterdeep to put in for a keening before Harvestide. Rumor was the price of grains were very high in certain island ports due to unlucky weather, lower in Waterdeep where there was plenty seemingly gathered in prescient anticipation. The profits potential out of Waterdeep was too much to pass up. The fact Aich (Horatio) learned next, ‘the next port of call would be Callidyrr to deliver the grains’, made the timing important he not miss that sailing. He had not been able to get back to report even his meager information, and this would be his chance. Doing so on the Harpy, would mean if her Ladyship should command, his identity as the sailor Aich would be intact and able to be used further.
Athkatla port, the Harpy’s Song was loading her holds with raw ore. Captain Verkan needed to mend some relationships because of his last failure to deliver. Most of the crew was given liberty to the city, two days to find themselves release after their last journey. Aich, not wishing make the trip, was toying with his Tymorian coin on the docks, accepting a post on watch. He was just thinking to himself about the bad luck he had, more precisely, his female companion had while he was last in Athkatla. He wished nothing to do with the seedy streets and brothels tonight. Hours later of this moonless night, he heard something that caught his attention. An Alzhedo speaker saying “A hunter has just sailed in, the Gretta’s Remorse.”
Once relieved, he made his way about, asking the right questions. He learned the new ship’s owner, Captain Archibald, sailed under two flags. This fact was known in this Amnian port, but unknown further north. The Gretta, a she was known sailing into Waterdeep or Baldur’s Gate ports was a merchant ship, often dealing in salvage recovered from less able seamen’s folly. Gretta’s Remorse though, was a privateer, permitted to harass Northern shipping, often selling the bulk items back to them in their own ports, and proud of sinking more than a dozen Northern Traders to the bottom. Then there was the rumor that Archibald had connection to the sailors flying purple sails.
He thought to himself, ’This could be a clue waited long for’. The stealthy sailor watched the nearby Gretta and learned her schedules. Night fell upon the third day, the Harpy was due to sail in the morning, so he slipped aboard the hunter to seek out evidence of slaves or trade with the notorious pirates sailing under purple sails. Boarding was simple and he succeeded without incident.
The nearly silent approach was unheard, and the few sailors on board did not see him. He entered the captain’s cabin, and searched for evidence, of which there was plenty, just nothing to tie him to the crimes he was investigating. He moved from the cabin to the hold, seeking something within the lockers for flags and weapons. He was forced to duck into the lower hold to avoid detection. It seemed, the crew was returning and they had begun loading barrels of some substance. His night vision made reading what was painted on the barrels impossible. He was going to search more, but was nearly discovered again. An error made severe, while seeking evidence he was forced to slip into the bilge. The hatch closed to keep from being discovered, was used as floor space to place cargo. Any hope he had of escaping through this hatch in the ceiling was dashed by the large weight now resting upon it. There he would remain, until deep in the night of the eleventh day.
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Eleventh day trapped...The sailor both was grateful and yet displeasured by the storm taking the ship. While the reduced temperature made the hold and the bilge slightly more bearable, the violent rocking of the ship, and the pitching and heaving in combination could set even the most hardened sailor’s stomach into a rebellion. He was only glad he thought, after he had finally succumbed to the urge to purge, that there was nothing to bring up. Four hours of the heavy seas had taken toll, causing him to begin to retch. The sailor had spent enough late nights and early mornings revisiting the previous night’s drink to know, that it hurts less and is less bothersome to have something for your stomach to hurl at its displeasure. However; having spent much of his youth cleaning up his father’s vomit, he found the prospect of being trapped in this chamber with the foul stench turned his stomach just thinking of the dilemma.
All of the shifting, and rolling mixed with the severe pain in his skull resulting from the earlier concussive blast that had removed his consciousness, pushed the trapped sailor to try again. Carefully he surveyed all of the tiny bore holes he had made, seeking a light or wind from any. The air had gotten so stale that he had begun to think he might suffocate, though when thinking more calmly days before he assured himself there was ample supply for the bilge was not water or air tight from the deck above. He moved his spiderweb like harness point by point up the length of the chamber. Using the metal pitons already set, he hooked carabiners into them, making a slow progress as much for safety of not falling, as for the queasiness in his stomach and roiling in his head. He closed his eyes, and concentrated after each movement, mentally planning the next.
It is with elation, with silent joy, that he reacted to the violent crashing upon the deck just above him. As the ship smashed through a wave, the whole of the ship had lurched. Despite swinging forward hard enough to smack his head against the deck above him, he smiled. Two of the bore holes nearest the bilge hatch had begun to flicker with the lamplight from above. The sound of the rolling waves was joined by that of rolling barrels. He made his way to the hatch, further his spirit lifted as the hatch was no longer weighted, merely latched.
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On deck...The crew of the ‘Gretta’ as she was now identified by her flag, rushed about attempting to refasten the battings over hatches, securing doors flapping in the wind and most of all, attempting to avoid being washed over the gunwale by the waves threatening to topple the ship. The first mate began to shout new instructions to cut away the mizzenmast, which had sheared suddenly and was fouled in the rigging. It was threatening to rip the main top and mainmast crosstrees apart. The second mate, responded to the commands of the Captain and rushed below decks into the hold.
The mate dodged the rolling barrel of grain flour with a curse, and trapped it by dropping a bag of beans to the deck behind it. He then began cutting open the netting binding a stack of crates together. Inside, he recovered the prize he sought.
On deck, the crew frantically working to clear the rigging stopped each of their own accord to plead with the sea bitch to spare them. Small treasures were being tossed overboard to be drawn to the depths, as they might be very soon.
Below, the second mate cut the cork out of a bottle of elven wine, one of the captured prizes already sold in Baldur’s Gate to a wealthy man who cared not where his pleasures came, only that they did. He drank several swallows not only for courage, and curiosity for he had never tasted the vintage, but for fear that it should be foul and anger the goddess which tossed them about even more and kill them all. He gathered up a full case, making to climb to the deck once again. His attention so upon his task, he failed to notice the slim blade sliding up between planks and disconnecting the latch from the bilge hatch.
Up the mate went onto deck, to make his offering to the sea bitch, only to be stopped by the captain just before he could cast the expensive vintage over. The bitch received her due however; it was not the vintage the mate had intended. Captain Archibald, in his anger at the mate, grabbed the crate and thrust it into the hands of a nearby sailor. The Captain then took the mate by the hair, and did drag the mate’s own knife across his exposed throat. The spray from the cut was dampened by the spray of the waves. The captain was not deterred, he cast the mate overboard with a prayer of his own, offering a valuable sailor to the goddess.
The seas quite abruptly, almost as abruptly as the weather had started, calmed. A quiet cheer goes up among the sailors as they release a sigh of relief and some, clenched fists around their dearest treasure they were about to part with. A second sigh of relief came a moment later, when the lookout cried out a sighting for land, and the navigator determined it was only a few hours till they would be in the port of Baldur’s Gate.
Beneath them, a figure moved silently about the hold. Several cases of the treasured wine went missing, as did a number of casks of other dried goods, preserves, and exotics. A few bags of grain were pilfered in the process. Other casks of flour are sabotaged, and cargo netting holding pallets together are weakened.
There was much in the way of movement about the ship as they prepare for porting, one sailor slips and falls through an open hatchway, weakened by the storm, it had fallen through beneath the batting which did not hold his weight when he took a short cut across it. While this sailor was not killed, he was mocked for the broken leg and his pride suffered as well. All through the porting late that day as the twilight settled over the docks, the men moved about buoyed up by the fact that they had narrowly avoided the wrath of the sea bitch. They congratulated themselves and each other for their bravery and prowess on the sea. None however, noticed the sailor clad in dark clothing slip over the side and to the dock. Nor did they notice him boarding a smaller cog just shoving off flying the colors of a Selunite crew from the port near Candlekeep.
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Victor sighed deeply, and put down the pen. This, another entry into the journal in which he was to catalog the life of his son was difficult for him, as nearly all the entries before had been. Every page he filled, he knew, would be as the journal by which he was judged. Judged and deemed unworthy for reward, but saved from the wall by his son's actions. His was a penitence that would weigh upon his soul. He was acutely aware of how his many mistakes in life had informed his only child's path, and though he could see, and sometimes hear the boy's thoughts even, he could do nothing to warn him of the many mistakes he was making that may someday be used in his own judgement.