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The new day was hazy yet curiously bright, the sun not visible in a sky that seemed to glow of its own accord, one shade from horizon to distant horizon. The cramped cabin which seemed to some combination of crew quarters and brig had only a single tiny porthole, but it was enough to make the two male occupants squint and wince away, still recovering from the unholy mixture of grog and opium they’d swallowed the night before. Feruzi planted her back to the wall and eyed the other female, a tiny creature, although still armed and lacking a signature headache.

The door flew open and the horrible yellow-toothed, emaciated Master Scourge stomped in, his face twisted in a grimace that on second viewing turned out to be a shark smile. He spoke in sickly-sweet tones, belied by the six pirates with various bludgeons arrayed behind him. “Did ye lovely princesses enjoy yer beauty rest, then? The sun be over the yardarm, and it be time to report to the captain!” The smile fell away. “On yer feet, filthy swabs, before Cap’n Harrigan flays yer into sausages and has Fishguts fry yer up for breakfast!”

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Ezikial looked up at the fat man blocking his path. “Well,” he drawled. “I think—” the fat pirate staggered backwards clutching his groin from Ezikial’s well-placed kick. He pulled out his pistol, cocked it, and shoved it into the man’s face. “Back off and leave me alone.” He was dimly aware of Reiko and Feruzi moving behind him, the Tian slinking back into the shadows while the Mwangi huntress stepped up to prevent the other pirates from surrounding him.

The fat man panted hard for a few seconds. “You won’t get away with kicking Fipps Chumlett!” he growled, yanking a dagger out of his belt and shoving Ezikial’s gun aside.

“No!” the big-eared woman standing beside him hissed. “I ain’t gonna get keel-hauled!”

“Most wise,” Feruzi commented as Ezikial danced backward, taking a messy but not dangerous cut along the outside of his thigh. The other pirates waded in, swinging fists and weighted bits of rope. Chopper punched one in the jaw, dodging a reciprocal kick. Feruzi’s hand shot out with snake speed, striking the rigger woman in the abdomen and doubling her up. The Mwangi’s foot then soared skyward and came down solidly on the rigger’s forehead, staggering her and putting her out of the fight.

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“What are you waiting for?” Mr. Plugg growled. “There’s something in the bilges that bit Mr. Scrimshaw. Get in there and don’t bother coming out until whatever’s down there is dead.”

Feruzi frowned slightly. “If we go down there, does that mean we have to be dead before we can come up?”

Plugg attempted a withering stare, but Feruzi didn’t seem inclined to wilt. “We’ll just have to see.”

“I see that irony is not a big thing around here,” Feruzi remarked as they headed belowdecks.

“I doubt they understand it,” Ezikial replied in an equally offhand tone.

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Morning came, but with it no dawn, only pewter sky, silver rain, and leaden sea that rolled all around the Wormwood, the great heavy waves jostling her like an indifferent crowd, threatening to knock her down and trample her should she falter. The crew hunched together on her deck, already wet and shivering, clutching the rations that must sustain them through the grinding effort to come. Behind them were calmer waters, but ahead the clouds mounted the sky seemingly without end, an uncharted range they must now endeavor to scale.

Feruzi looked up into the rigging, trying to quell her impulse to shrink from the water and the chill, knowing there was no use and it would only exhaust her. “There is always a storm sooner or later,” she remarked, sententious in her philosophy.

“That’s nature for you,” Reiko agreed, unruffled in hers.

Mr. Plugg, wet as the rest of the crew but somehow looking less sloppy, dispensed assignments with a few curt gestures. Chopper found himself straining at one of the mainsail’s halyards. Ezikial was banished to the sloshing bilges, Feruzi patching and repairing the tarry caulking nearby. Reiko had little to do – the galley was all-but-unusable while the ship wallowed before the wind, the fires damped, the cutlery stashed and secured. Even the animals were still and nearly silent, anxious but not terrified.

“May as well sit down an’ take yer ease while ye can, lass,” Fishguts said, gesturing with his tin cup. “’Tis likely will only get worse.”

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The bizarre lobster-eel creatures launched themselves through the water, claws extended. Feruzi pushed herself off the stony reef to get away and promptly went under, while the other tangled itself in Sandara’s long hair, fouling her with slime. Chopper pulled an axe from his belt and awkwardly hacked at chitin, but the force of the blow was largely blunted by the seawater. Ezikial had more luck stabbing the other with a dagger; a dark, inky-looking substance that might be blood began to leak into the water. With surprising flexibility, the creature reversed itself and latched on, the oversized claws removing chunks of Ezikial’s flesh.

Feruzi landed a hard jab on the other creature’s softer portions, but it clutched her arm, biting and snapping. Now that it was anchored, Chopper was able to open a wide split in its back, but it still didn’t let go. Feruzi ducked as Reiko’s sword whistled past, narrowly missing her and the beast. Ezikial managed to get his blade in between the claws and mandibles, wrecking the eyes and brain. It should have died, but instead went into violent spasms, nearly taking out one of his eyes and scoring a deep cut along Sandara’s arm as she tried to get clear. A few moments later, Feruzi managed to get at something vital on the other and it, too went berzerk, leaving her with a few more injuries, fortunately none of them serious. She waved Chopper away impatiently when he attempted triage.

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The crew gathered on the deck for their assignments as usual, and Chopper realized abruptly that he’d now been aboard the Wormwood for two weeks, long enough for the day’s activities to seem like habit. It was certainly a habit for most of the crew to stand slightly away from him, Feruzi, and Ezikial, and for Reiko to stand nearby but not exactly “with” them. Even Feruzi’s cluster of friendly companions, now including not just Rosie, but Samms Toppin, Jack Scrimshaw, and Giffer Tibbs stayed well away, not wanting to risk the obvious ire of Mr. Plugg or Mr. Scourge.

The wisdom of their approach became obvious as Plugg gathered the four of them in by eye and gave a very faint purse-lipped smile. “I have special work for you today,” he said. “Boarding School.”

“Cute,” Chopper said, acknowledging the pun with the universal faint grimace. Ezikial grimaced as well, not so faintly.

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The Wormwood crept close and closer to her quarry, which now retaliated with a hail of crossbow and ballista bolts aimed at crew and rigging. The name of the large and wallowing Rahadoumi merchantman was now visible on the transom: the Man’s Promise, she was called, no doubt meant to be optimistic but now somewhat ominous. There could be no mistaking what Barnabus Harrigan promised for this ship and its crew.

The missile fire became somewhat erratic as a heavy fog condensed out of the air, magically summoned by Peppery Longfarthing as an aid for the coming battle. The assault team stood waiting at the Wormwood’s rail. Reiko didn’t even flinch as a crossbow bolt narrowly missed her, she was preoccupied watching the two ships collide. It was a purposeful collision, not a shattering crash, bumping the merchantman into alignment with the Wormwood’s starboard side while leaving both ships relatively undamaged. Four grapples flew from the assault team and were made fast.

Reiko and Chopper easily crossed the gap above the seething, shark-filled water. Captain Harrigan had seen to that, ordering Reiko and Fishguts to slaughter the ship’s stock of pigs and dump the blood and bacon overboard to draw the monsters of the deep. Anyone so unlucky as to fall overboard would be ripped apart if they tried to swim. Feruzi followed them more slowly, but once on the other side she drew her bow without hesitation and fired into the fog, hitting someone who screamed. Reiko moved that direction in the quick, balanced shuffle of an experienced warrior. Her sword snapped out, removing a man’s head in a single motion.

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Ezikial spent their second day aboard the Promise swabbing the deck, a chore he engaged in diligently even though it seemed a poor use of his skills. He never objected to even the hardest work aboard a ship—all proper ship work seemed right to him, somehow, and did not grate on his nerves the way it did other people. He was just settling into his pace when Reiko staggered by, burdened with a load of sea turtles. Her grasp slipped as she turned to edge past and she wound up dumping the entire batch nearly at his feet.

“So sorry,” she muttered, trying to chivvy the turtles back into a heap.

“Help her, fool,” a voice grated, and Ezikial glanced up to receive an imperious gesture from Mr. Scourge. Shrugging, he picked up several by their tails and helped Reiko ferry them to the galley. He couldn’t have been gone more than a minute or two, but by the time he returned to the deck it was smeared with two dozen filthy bootprints. He blinked at the mess for a moment, slightly dazzled by the laughable childishness, then began cleaning the same patch of deck for the second time.

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Ezikial swept the torch through the air, leaving a trail across his vision but also revealing a cluster of tiny pink creatures, whether birds, bats, or insects he could not say. Two of them squealed and fell, impaled on arrows, as the rest of the creatures took wing, revealing long, needle-sharp beaks or stingers.

Reiko scowled as she readied her blade. “So, Ms. Feruzi, you said insects passed along the ghoul plague? I think these qualify.” One of them came at her, buzzing most unpleasantly, and she sliced it neatly in half, the blade continuing in a smooth geometric arc to intersect with another stirge bothering Leila. Ezikial skewered a third on his sword while Pluggsley the monkey clung to the back of his shirt and screeched.

With the stirge out of her face, Leila got a grip on her bow and sent an arrow into the darkness of the overhang. Something squealed and fell to the ground. Feruzi continued to fire, each shot movement deliberate yet still nearly too fast to see. More stirges fell to the ground, until the final one launched itself directly at Feruzi’s face. Chopper’s axe flicked out almost casually and swatted it.

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“Tatsumi? Tatsumi!” Reiko crossed the beach in a single bound and flung herself on her brother, who grinned a bit sheepishly.

“You . . . know her, then, Tatsumi?” the resplendent man asked, gesturing for his other crew to stand down. This close, his coat was visibly faded and somewhat threadbare, although the coat of mail he wore under it gleamed like silver. Tatsumi nodded at him respectfully.

“Captain, this is my sister. Although the last time I saw her, she was back in Genzei.”

Reiko bowed deeply. “I heard rumors that Tatsumi had joined your crew, Captain Pegsworthy. Thank you for taking care of him.”

“At your service, madam,” he said, pulling off a rather florid, courtly obeisance in return despite the slight awkwardness of his peg leg. “As you know my name, it seems the introductions fall to you.”

“Yes, of course. I am Nakayama Reiko, please, call me Reiko.” She gestured toward Ezikial, who holstered his pistols and nodded. “This is Mr. Ezikial Hands, he is our Master Gunner.”

“Hands? Any relation to Israel Hands, perchance?”

“Aye, sir, my father.”

Captain Pegsworthy was sharply taken aback. “Truly! How remarkable. I’ve heard your father was quite a meritorious pirate. Served under the Hurricane King himself.”

“So I have heard, as well, sir. Perhaps we can discuss this over a drink.”

“A better idea has rarely been voiced.” Pegsworthy nodded again to Ezikial and turned his attention back to Reiko, who recognized her cue.

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

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

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

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

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

“Indeed,” Feruzi agreed, Ezikial joining them.

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

“Perhaps we should look for a tavern?” she suggested.

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

“And shouting about our deeds on the docks, is?”

“Yessss?”

“No.”

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

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

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

“Give ’em hell,” she said, opening the door for him with some ceremony.

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

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The jungle seemed to close in around them; landmarks vanished into a mass of vegetation and the faint rustle of the river was quickly drowned out by the drone of insects. Sandara tried swatting them away from her face, but it was futile. “This makes Bonewrack Isle look like a paradise,” she complained. Feruzi shrugged and continued her examination of the underbrush.

“There do seem to be jaguars about,” she said finally. “They climb trees. Better than we do. So watch above as well as to the sides. There are larger creatures about as well—solitary ones—but I do not recognize their markings. They are almost like midget elephants.”

“Dinosaurs?” Reiko asked. Feruzi blinked.

“Oh, those great beats? I have seen them. My father had one as a pet for a time, but it looked nothing like these tracks.”

“I’ve never seen one myself, so it’s only a guess.”

“Do they climb trees?” Feruzi asked.

“Not these,” Chopper said, looking over the tracks. “Herbivores, by the look of it. Maybe horse-sized.” Sandara sighed in relief.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Well, they still might trample us, but at least the meat would go to waste. Until the scavangers got to it, of course,” Chopper concluded cheerfully. Sandara shot him a dark look.

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“Ships ahoy!” called the lookout and the officers assembled onto the deck of the Crisis to see for themselves. Two ships were visible near the horizon, quite close to each other.

Ezikial’s reaction was immediate: “Bring up the ballistae!”

Reiko frowned slightly while Chopper examined them through his spyglass. “Captain?” she inquired. One of the ships was clearly chasing the other, engaged in a full-out battle, but the colors were indistinguishable at this distance.

“Eh,” Chopper shrugged, “take the winner?”

“Would it not be best to know why they are fighting, first?” Feruzi asked. “Or even, who they are?”

Chopper glanced at her. “Maybe, but . . . pirate.” He shrugged again. “Feelin’ lazy today. Steady as she goes. We’ll get there soon enough.”

“Right,” Reiko said. “Maybe you could go take a nap and we’ll let you know when the good stuff starts?”

Chopper seemed to give this consideration. “Nah.”

“Right,” Reiko drawled. “You just leave everything to me.”

“Duh. I had to do all the work with the Dominator, so you layabouts should do something. For once.” Reiko struggled to conceal a smirk as she turned away and began ascending the rigging. Feruzi glared openly at Chopper.

“YOU did all the work?” she demanded.

If Tidewater Keep was so crowded with all these new guests, McCleagh grumbled to himself, why couldn’t he find any of them? It was early morning, a time when most pirates were snoring in their bunks, but from the looks of things nearly all of them had risen early, belted on their weapons, and wandered off. At least their Captain was still in Lady Smythee’s rooms, a fact that did little to brighten McCleagh’s mood. He suppressed bitter thoughts with the efficiency of long practice. Lady Smythee looked favorably on the arrangement, and that was all that should concern him. Well, perhaps not all.

“I’m concerned about the safety of the castle’s inhabitants while they’re about their duties,” he told Chopper when the man finally emerged in search of some breakfast.

“Seems you should be, aye. Are ye thinkin’ there’s a nest o’ the fish men hereabouts?”

“I’m not sure. They could be coming to attack from miles away.” McCleagh sighed. He hated to ask, but there was no doubt the pirates were competent. “Could you . . . keep an eye on the people?”

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Studying the dead sorceress’ skin revealed an elaborate map—one curiously without labels or names. Chopper copied it down on a sheet of parchment and sent for Fishguts. The old salt turned the map around several times, then let out a whoop that echoed across the cove and nearly took Chopper’s hat off.

“This map mus’ lead ter Mancatcher Cove, Cap’n, if we c’n read it! What be these ‘ere scratchin’s?”

“It is Minkaian,” Reiko said. "In Taldane, it might read:

“From blue bight’s embrace
Spy the Grave Lady’s prize tooth
With the Dawnflower’s first kiss
Climb the Captain’s wayward orb
To claim old king’s hoard.”

“Some sort o’ riddle, then. Sorry, Cap’n, I heard o’ Mancatcher Cove, but that be all I know,” Fishguts said, sighing.

“I know it,” Reiko informed him. “Nearly a century ago there was a captain called Cyrus Wolfe, a mage of some kind. He hunted the coast of Garund for the most part and was so successful the Free Captains offered him the Hurricane Crown. It is said that he laughed in their faces. It is believed that Wolve divided up his treasure and hid it in several different places, but most of them have either been discovered and pillaged or are simply lost. Mancatcher Cove is supposed to be his greatest hoard—and it still remains untouched. Wolfe selected an uncharted island shrouded in dense jungle and surrounded by forbidding cliffs, save for one cove said to be so deep it descended into the pit of Hell. Wolfe used his sorcerous powers to reach into that pit and call forth a guardian that could crush any ships attempting to enter the cove. Copies of this map are not all that uncommon in the Shackles, but no one who sets out in search of the treasure ever returns.” She stared levelly at Chopper and began counting under her breath.

“Except us, of course,” Chopper announced.

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“That is—rather disturbing,” Feruzi said at last. Reiko frowned, evidently thinking hard, her expression inscrutable. She put the jar with its gruesome contents away for safekeeping and stood.

“Shall we continue on?” Chopper shrugged at Reiko and they continued their journey through the watery tunnels. They followed the cross-tunnel south, arriving at a small chamber on the left hand with numerous organic filaments running from floor to ceiling like squishy columns. Fist-sized pink ovoids were attached to these columns, bobbing gently in the current. Feruzi grimaced at the sight.

“It is going to turn out that Wolfe’s treasure was his collection of weird plants, isn’t it.”

“It’s lookin’ a lot like that,” Chopper agreed.

“Captain, there’s something in there. I can hear it moaning,” Ezikial said. They moved cautiously into the cavern, Feruzi taking the rear and flinching away from the gelatinous protrusions. On close inspection the ovoids were slightly translucent, revealing small tadpole forms inside.

“Is this some kind of sahuagin . . . hatchery?” Feruzi demanded.

“No,” Reiko said. "They’re locathah. They’re kind of like rivals to the sahuagin . . . usually. “I’m not sure how or why they’d be breeding down here with the sahuagin.”

The moaning turned out to be coming from a fishlike humanoid—a locathah—chained to the wall at the back of the cave. Someone had removed the creature’s legs and crudely stitched up the stumps. It seemed oblivious to its surroundings.

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“His Kingliness, Kerdak Bonefist, has consented to an audience tomorrow night, Captain Sir,” Conchobar declaimed, posing next to their table at the Riptide Alehouse in Port Peril. The gnome had to raise his voice to be heard over the exuberant crowd. “Since we don’t have the sponsorship of a recognized Free Captain, we’re likely to undergo ‘Testing’.”

“Bring it on,” was Chopper’s response. Reiko shrugged.

“It would be convenient if Captain Bloodmourn were in port.”

“Would she sponsor us?” Feruzi asked.

“Probably, although I would have to talk to her first. And she would want to meet Captain Chopper and the rest of you.”

Feruzi eyed Chopper for a moment. “Well . . . perhaps it’s better she is not here.” Reiko smirked.

“I’m sure she’d appreciate his unique personality.”

“That would be a first, then,” Ezikial growled. Chopper replied with a friendly grin.

“You’re lucky I’m not convinced you won’t shoot me, Mister Hands.”

“Are you convinced I won’t shoot you, then?” Feruzi demanded.

“Mostly. Pretty sure it annoys you every time I am obstinate enough to get myself shot.”

“Well I wouldn’t want you to think I was getting soft. One of these days I’ll have a chance to pay back that debt and you can go get yourself shot with my blessing.”

“Well, I already have plans to re-up muh policy with your honor, should it ever come t’that.”

“We’ll see. So is there anything special we should do to get ready for this meeting tomorrow?

“Don’t go dying beforehand?” Reiko offered. “Or getting yourself killed, as it were. That might look unprofessional.”

Feruzi shrugged. “In my nation, formally meeting a King has more . . . significance. Or so I hear. My own meeting was not so formal.”

“I shouldn’t worry overmuch. A king’s just a man, same as any other. A might more prickly about respect, mayhap, but I can mind m’manners if and when the occasion calls for it,” Chopper informed them.

“Pirates ne’er stood much on formailty,” Sandara said. “E’en the ones in charge.”

Chopper nodded. “I’m counting on it. Who’s this now?” he added as a tall, lean man with tousled blond hair and an eyepatch muscled up to their table. His clothes were simple but fine, and he carried himself like a fencer.

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Tsadok Goldtooth reappeared at the Crisis shortly after lunch. Another crowd of onlookers all waiting to be entertained gathered rapidly. Feruzi shook her head. “We are certainly attracting a lot of attention with this.”

Goldtooth ignored her and addressed himself to Chopper. “Have someone bring up a table and chairs.” Chopper gave a negligent wave and snapped his fingers. After several seconds of blank staring, Dar and Marteen ran off to fetch the table and chairs from the chartroom, nearly the only real furniture aboard the Crisis. “Who am I playing?” Goldtooth growled.

“That would be myself, Mr. Goldtooth,” Reiko informed him.

“This is my first mate, Nakayama Reiko,” Chopper added. Reiko’s chin came up just about to Goldtooth’s belt buckle as the half-orc scrutinized her.

“All right, then,” he said finally and waved a dwarf from his own crew forward, followed by a couple of swabs hauling a keg of rum. “Argus, the two of us, and nobody else at the table. Argus will be dealing.” Reiko bowed politely to the dwarf, who was nearly as tall as she was, if much broader. His thick, heavy-jointed hands strongly resembled building equipment, but he handled the cards deftly.

“Should I check the rum, Captain?” Ezikial muttered.

“Aye, do that.”

“Mr. Goldtooth,” Ezikial called. “Do you mind if I check the rum before you start?”

“Afraid we’re trying to poison the winner, Mister . . . ?”

“Ezikial Hands. I am something of a connoisseur.”

“Ezikial . . . Hands?” Goldtooth lingered over the name. “If you must, then by all means. I expect you will have much to discuss with the King . . . should you win an audience with him.”

Ezikial took a dipper of the rum, sniffed it appreciatively, then drank it off. “I will not deny that, Mr. Goldtooth. I almost wish I were playing just for the rum, Reiko-san. Besmara’s luck to you.”

Argus set out a hundred platinum coins in small stacks in front of Goldtooth then looked expectantly at Reiko.

“You mentioned that you brought along a moneychanger?” Reiko said smoothly. The dwarf nodded and they bent their heads together to dicker, finally settling on a sum of coins and small jewels as equivalent stake and exchanging them for the platinum coins. Goldtooth and Reiko each threw in their ante and Argus dealt the cards.

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Chopper walked across the chartroom and booted Reiko’s door until she appeared. Fishguts bustled in behind him, carrying breakfast. “What do we know about Tessa Fairwind?”

“She is captain of the Luck of the Draw and one of the most popular pirate lords on the Council. Some say she is next in line for the Hurricane Crown,” Reiko said. “Captain Bloodmourne is part of her fleet.”

“Ye’re movin’ up in th’ world, Cap’n,” Fishguts said, peering at the note.

“Well, I guess I could head over. In . . . huh, three hours? I slept that late? Well, rustle up Feruzi and Ezikial then.”

“Feruzi hasna come back yet, Cap’n.”

“No? Well then fetch my Concho. Can’t go unattended.”

Tessa Fairwind’s dwelling turned out to be a very pleasant townhouse overlooking the harbor. Someone with a deft hand had seen to it that while rich and tasteful, the ornamentation stopped short of opulent display, a restraint unusual among pirates. Conchobar, acting the part of retainer, rang the bell and announced them, passing on the invitation. They walked through a little garden courtyard and into the house, ending in the dining room in front of a large bay window.

“Nice,” Chopper remarked. "There’s just something about dining halls that overlook the sea.

Tessa Fairwind was a slender woman with long red hair worn in a neat braid with a jaunty tricorne perched atop it; her clothes were a similar mix of practicality and fashionable finery. She had a refined, delicate beauty and pointed ears, speaking of elven ancestry and most notable when she smiled. “Isn’t there just? I’m Captain Tessa Fairwind. I welcome you to my home.”

“A pleasure. Captain Chopper, First Mate Nakayama Reiko, Gunner Ezikial Hands, and Conchobar Turlach Shortstone at your service.”

“Ma’am,” Ezikial grated out while Reiko bowed formally. Conchobar seemed to be radiating delight.

“Please, sit. Have an aperitif.” The liquor cabinet on the sidebar was extensive, even containing Tian sake. “Dinner should be ready soon. I congratulate you on being named Free Captains.”

“Thank you,” Chopper said.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there last night, but I had a prior engagement. Tell me, what do you know of the current political situation in the Shackles?”

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“So, which of these paths are we to follow?” Feruzi asked when they returned to the Crisis.

“Well, I think they are both equally important,” Reiko said.

“If we had two ships . . .”

“Technically we do. They are just . . . elsewhere.”

“We should go after the wreckers,” Chopper said. “That’s our given quest.”

“I would hate to discover that the halflings had vital information, though,” Feruzi told him.

“We can always go after the other if Dindreann doesn’t net us enough information.”

“Well, Mr. Slip’s request was only to discover what has happened to the Brine Banshee. Technically, that can wait for a little while,” Reiko said.

“Wreckers it is.”

“I’ll chart a course right away, Captain,” Leila said.

The shoals Slip had suggested were only about six hours out from Bag Island, around the Rampore Isles. They reached the area after dark and began looking around.

“So, now what?” Feruzi asked. “Sail around until we hit something?”

“Never been anywhere near here,” Chopper muttered. “Perhaps drop anchor until the daylight?”

“Ship ahoy!” called Etto the lookout. “Ahead off the port bow! Tis a wee merchant ship with her sails lowered!”

“Then again…” Chopper grinned.

“Rosie! Grab the boys and load up!” Ezikial called.

“Aye aye, sir!” the halfling shouts.

“Why don’t we wait and watch. Maybe the wreckers lured that ship in. It’s not as if we announced to the world that we were coming here,” Reiko suggested. Chopper nodded.

“Settle. If it’s the wreckers and we stay put, hopefully they’ll grow impatient. If it’s a victim, they’ll keep the night.”

“I agree.” Chopper squinted into the gloom. Fishguts came up to the rail beside him. “Can you make anything out, Cookie?”

“Have ye got the Farglass, Cap’n?” Chopper handed it over and Fishguts scrutinized the distant ship. “She’s raisin’ sails. Must be ‘fraid of us. Rahadoumi colors . . . plate says Shinin’ Star.”

Chopper shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“That is interesting,” Reiko said. “I had a thought. What if this ship is not directly, but indirectly related to the wreckers, as in, the people the wreckers sell their hauls to? And what if they made a trade quite recently? It would not be good to let them get away. Tracking them down later may prove difficult.”

“Thassa lotta conjecture.”

“Only one good way to find out whether she’s right or not,” Feruzi said.

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Feruzi came hurrying up to them as the Crisis hove into view, clearly returning from some errand of her own. She spotted Chopper and bore down on him. “I had an idea about these spies . . .” she said. Chopper covered his mouth to conceal a grin as Pegsworthy exclaimed, “There she is!”

Feruzi blinked, startled into silence. Undaunted, Pegsworthy continued. “How good to see you again, my lady. How fare you this day?” Feruzi began to look cornered as Pegsworthy advanced on her, clearly not going to be diverted this time. Chopper started to open his mouth and Reiko kicked him, causing a startled grunt. Meanwhile, some scrambling thought in Feruzi’s mind seemed to have gained a foothold, and she straightened into a posture of formal irritation.

“Feruzi is fine, thank you.”

“I am overjoyed to hear it.”

“And how are you, Captain Pegsworthy?”

“Well enough now that I’ve found my miscreant first mate. Go on, Mr. Torkelsen, the Bonaventure won’t make herself ready.” Pegsworthy clapped his hands together briskly. “Now then, where were we?”

Feruzi pulled the bow out from over her shoulder and held it in front of her like a shield. “Feruzi supposes she should return this to you, now.”

“It was a gift, my lady. The Eagle-Claw was always meant for hands such as yours. I would not have it gathering dust in my hold or back at Firegrass Isle.”

“Mmph. The bow is . . . lovely. But Feruzi is not sure it is . . . appropriate.” She fingered the carvings regretfully. “If Feruzi may ask, what are your intentions, exactly?”

Pegsworthy sighed. “I see our lives do not leave us much time for innuendos, so I will be direct. I find I wish to court you, in whatever manner befits a woman of your . . . stature. And in whatever manner makes you comfortable. Or, the least uncomfortable.” Another startled grunt came from Chopper’s direction and Pegsworthy glanced that direction, a bit unnerved. “I assure you my intentions are entirely honorable. It was not my wish to cause you distress. If you find me bothersome say the word and I will trouble you no more.”

Posted by: Jennifer

Jasperleaf Apothecary turned out to be a surprisingly large building—a decaying three-storey manor behind an apparently humble storefront. The window-shutters were closed and nailed shut. Reiko had spent some hours visiting with locals to learn what she could. Several people claimed that the shop was closed to the public but would open for a customer that called for ‘three jugs of terrap sap’. The officers of Crisis were debating their approach when the Bonaventure arrived in port. They decided to delay in order to meet with Pegsworthy and combine forces. The friendly Captain was looking a little more ragged than usual and had several new, pink scars; he related a fascinating tale of battle with an aboleth at the wreck of the Brine Banshee, a battle that nearly claimed his life.

“We heard that asking for ‘two pounds of powdered thileu bark’ was the code to get into this apothecary,” Pegsworthy finished well after sunset.

“Interesting,” Reiko said, stirring herself to light the table lamp. “We heard to use a different phrase.”

“That IS interesting.”

“Whatever they are doing in there they seem to be at some pains to keep it quiet,” Feruzi said. “So, front door?”

Reiko shrugged. “It can’t hurt. If that fails, we can go with our second option.”

“Now?” Pegsworthy asked. “Or in daylight?”

“My guess is that night would be best considering their usual trade. We can try again in the morning if no one answers. If that fails also, we can go with the second option.” Reiko surveyed the group quickly: Feruzi, Ezikial, Leila, Sandara, and Chopper were present as usual, but Pegsworthy had also brought several of his own crew: Eggal Torkelsen, Labella Loor, and a dwarf he hadn’t introduced. “It might be best if we split up.”

“If you think that is best,” Feruzi said.

“We’ll try first, eh?” Chopper said. “Pegsworthy and company can rush to our rescue if things go in a southerly sort of direction.”

“Of course. We stand ready to assist you,” Pegsworthy said.

Posted by: Jennifer

“This is less an infiltration and more an assault at this point,” Chopper remarked as they cleared their way up to the second floor. Feruzi helpfully pointed out the arrow-studded corpse of the peculiar beast she’d discovered and subsequently killed. Snake-headed tentacles grew out of the shoulders of an immense red-and-black cat. Everyone took a look at it but no one could identify it—whatever it was, it was rare and probably not the cuddliest of pets.

Labella picked the lock on the southern door and opened the door with great care, avoiding some gooey substance smeared on the inside of the handle. The room beyond was an extensive alchemy laboratory. Chopper glanced inside and nodded to himself. “Toss it,” he said, and Ezikial promptly attempted to fit the entire lab into one sack, displaying impressive skill at multidimensional geometry. Sadly, the equipment was not as current on the application of space-time vortices and resisted this treatment, causing Ezikial to negotiate with Labella for the acquisition of a vehicle equipped with more real-world storage capacity. Barely resisting the urge to laugh, Labella left with Torkelsen and Pegsworthy’s dwarven sorcerer Durgrin to secure transport.

Posted by: Jennifer

Author’s Note: this session writeup deviates wildly from the session itself, but a lot of things that got glossed over were important to explain events and a lot of other things that took up a lot of time didn’t require much explanation, so I Took Liberties.

To meet with Tessa Fairwind, they had to make sail immediately for Cauldron Rock, starting point for this year’s Free Captains’ Regatta. Tessa was delighted to receive Zarskia’s information and take the spymaster off Chopper’s hands.

“Are you entering the race?” Tessa asked.

“I was thinkin’ about it.”

“Do so. Here, I’ll even pay the entry fee for you. You having a seat on the Pirate Council would be a great help to me. Even if you find you don’t agree with my decisions, at least you won’t be that worm Harrigan.”

“The Wormwood’s racin’, then?”

“Aye, and widely regarded as the favorite to win the thing. I do NOT want Harrigan on the council. For all I know, he’s in league with Cheliax himself!”

Chopper grinned. “Don’t you worry. I owe him a bad turn or six. Taking the purse out from under his nose would be a pleasure.”

“Good.”

The deck of the Kraken was already crowded with the captains and senior crew of the sixteen other Regatta entrants when the Crisis party arrived. Many of the faces were familiar from Lucre Hold, but none of them had introduced themselves at that time so names could not be assigned to faces. As they edged through the crowd, one tall, imposing figure interposed himself in their path—Captain Barnabas Harrigan. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, grinning hugely.

“What, just now?” Feruzi shot back. Chopper sounded a brief chuckle.

“I, for one, won’t be damned,” Reiko said, “but it’s always a pleasure, Mr. Harrigan.”

“Ain’t, it, though.” His grin faded as he crossed his beefy arms and sneered down at her. Reiko’s face, as always, was set into an inscrutable faint smile that made her resemble a marble statue.

“However did you finally deal with your mutinous first mate?”

“Word is ye handled ‘im for me. Hope ye weren’t expectin’ a ree-ward past lettin’ ye hang onter my ship.”

“A paragon of generosity is Captain Harrigan,” said Chopper. “I won’t let it be said otherwise.”

Posted by: Jennifer

Feruzi shrugged at Chopper. “That was . . . not as bad as it could have been, I suppose.”

“Codswallop is what it is, pure and simple,” Chopper growled. Ezikial scowled in agreement.

“Are you all right, Merrill?” Feruzi asked. Pegsworthy sighed.

“I will be. It might take some time, though.”

Feruzi began to fidget, glancing over at Chopper again, who tilted his head to the side and regarded her curiously. “I have a . . . favor I want to ask you,” she said, speaking to Pegsworthy. “If you don’t mind. And, er, if Chopper doesn’t mind.” Chopper’s eyebrows shot up and Pegsworthy visibly shook off whatever was occupying his mind.

“Of course,” Pegsworthy said. “Anything.”

Posted by: Jennifer

The first building they entered proved to be a chapel, only a handful of the simple pews still intact between the others that lay scattered and broken on the floor. A golden symbol hung from the ceiling, a winged eye in a ring, the symbol of Aroden. Once the patron deity of Cheliax and a number of other major countries, Aroden had disappeared nearly a century ago when all of Golarion was wracked by terrible storms, ending in the formation of the Eye of Abendego. Aroden’s former worshippers had mostly abandoned him, converting to other faiths or, in the case of Cheliax, to the worship of devils. This chapel could have lain abandoned for decades or centuries, there was no way to tell.

“Is that real gold?” Feruzi asked, eyeing the symbol. Leila studied it for a moment.

“I believe it is, Feruzi,” she said at last.

“That much gold undefended for this long? It must be cursed,” Feruzi continued as Leila looked around for some way to reach the symbol. Four large, spider-like creatures with eerie humanoid faces suddenly flashed into view, snapping their mandibles. Chopper knocked one away before it could poison him and it tore a long gash in his wrist. Leila shouted as another one clamped down on her leg. Then the spiders vanished as suddenly as they appeared.

Ezikial waved his pistols furiously, seeking a target, while Feruzi pressed her back to the wall and cast a protective spell. The spiders burst into existence again, clawing and biting at everyone. Ezikial shot one in the abdomen before they could vanish a second time.

Posted by: Jennifer

Bikendi Otongu faded from sight.

“Well,” Reiko said, “That was interesting.” Ezikial nodded agreement. “I am fairly certain he wasn’t giving us the full truth about needing to take over one of our bodies to do this ritual, though.”

“We will need to do something to get these spirits off the island,” Feruzi said. “All these risen dead will prove problematic.”

“I don’t disagree with this notion, but I am not willing to let something take over my body,” Reiko insisted.

“We should not discuss it standing in this room, I think,” Feruzi said.

Posted by: Jennifer

After spending the night on the Crisis, the executive officers left Leila in charge of the ship and took the ship’s boat, passing the Chelish fortress and rowing upriver until they reached a placid lake. They pulled the boat up on the eastern shore and discovered this area was not a trackless wilderness after all—someone had built a gigantic corral out of whole trees nearby. It was an imposing, if crude, edifice, yet it clearly hadn’t been imposing enough. The beams lay broken and smashed on the ground and massive clawed footprints led away into—or, more accurately, over—the brush.

“What the fook made that?” Chopper asked.

“More dinosaurs, it looks like,” Feruzi said, surveying the prints.

“Like Koro-koro?”

“Probably a big herbivore,” she told him, grinning. “Isn’t that a great word? Herbivore.”

“Ah, less bitey, then.”

Posted by: Jennifer

Bereft of their leader, the remaining cyclopes avoided contact, leaving the Crisis officers generally in command of Sumitha. Sandara healed the worst of their injuries while they surveyed the ruins.

“So, I guess we go look at the ‘wish woman’ now?” Feruzi asked.

“Aye, I reckon,” Chopper said. They approached the outdoor monument in the center of the ruins, a raised dais surrounded by decorative archways and alabaster columns. The triangular pool at the center shimmered and a vaguely female form—giant-sized—manifested.

“Welcome,” she said.

“So, what’s the what, now?” Chopper muttered.

“Greetings,” the woman said. “I am Vailea, the marid.”

“More ghosts?” Feruzi asked.

“I am no ghost, but a creature of elemental water, trapped here in the waning days of Ghol-Gan by ancient cyclopean magics.”

Feruzi crossed her arms over her chest. “And I take it you want our help to get loose?” She looked at Chopper pointedly. “I don’t suppose there’s any use in pretending we’re not going to help.”

“I will not deny that I greatly desire this, but I can only be freed if someone uses one of my wishes to free me.”

“Wishes?” Chopper asked. “Elaborate.”

Posted by: Jennifer

Ezikial winced as Sandara’s spell took effect, restoring his eyesight. The first thing he saw was the Dreamstone sitting on the chartroom table with both Reiko and Feruzi glaring at it as though they could force it to render up its secrets through sheer willpower. Leila, Rosie, and Conchobar sat perched around the edges of the room. Ezikial’s hand went automatically to his flask. A swallow of rum only dulled the headache brought on by the morning sunlight glinting through the windows.

“As nearly as I can determine,” Feruzi said, finally, “smashing the stone would solve most of our problems.”

“Would that get us th’ Cap’n back?” Sandara asked.

“It should. That’s how the spell works . . . although it’s generally supposed to be much more limited in scope.”

“Dispel it?” Ezikial suggested, looking at Sandara, who shrugged.

“I’m less sure what the effect of that would be, if she even can manage it,” Feruzi said. “I wish I had more books.”

“Might be nice ter ’ave that genie still ’ere,” Sandara said softly.

“There was a genie?” Leila asked eagerly.

“Are you willing to risk the Captain’s life by smashing the stone without knowing exactly what will happen?” Reiko asked.

Feruzi held up her hands. “Tell me what you require to be certain enough and I will try to provide it. If you think I’m not knowledgeable enough, that is fine. Who else would you like to consult? We could ask Durgrin, or any other spellcaster you know. Of course, it would take two days at minimum for them to receive the message and send a reply.”