Savage Tide: ECL 7 Bartholomew Grundy human rogue 7: Entry 1

There was a commotion at manor Vanderboren today. I'm told some swampfolk came and held her grace the Lady Vanderboren hostage. Fair enough, though; these recent hires of hers came and cleaned it all up nicely. Moreover, I heard they'd just come back from Kraken's Cove. That takes panache.

What with the captain's disappearance, I naturally had little better to do, and far worse if I didn't pick up roots, so I signed up with Vanderboren's little company. And what she pays! You'd hardly believe I was just a deckhand for Mulholland last week, the way I'll be swindling her. It gets better, though. Down in Kraken's Cove, it seems they'd found a seaworthy vessel, minding the claw marks, of course. And they just left it there.

Naught but one in the lot seems to know the first thing about a sailing ship, so I'm ready to play the hero, but the savvy one with the long name has already got it in his mind to reclaim it, and hired a bunch of professionals to do the job. Of course, I had my doubts, but with these swabs I ended up as little better than a tagalong. Get the boat they did, and sailed out of Kraken's Cove without even breaking a sweat. I believe they could've done it asleep. At this point, I'd believe it if I were told they could sail into a hurricane and out again, nets full of fish and gold coins. Not much for conversation, though, and clearly no heads for business, desperate as they were to take what he's paying them, despite being easily the plain best sailors at least that I've ever seen, and maybe in the entire world.

With that in mind, I convinced Long Bob to hire them for a few months, and we set up a little escort service for merchants and so forth out of Sasserine. Somehow, we didn't make much more than to cover the pay for those damn hires, but then I met Amella. She was smitten instantly by my natural charm, though I can't say as I disliked her even a bit, in turn. I believe we're in agreement that there's a dearth of old-fashioned sailors in this part of the world…though that's not all we agree on.

It's been a little while since then. The Lady Vanderboren's got us bringing some settlers far to the south, to a settlement on the "Isle of Dread". Surely it can't be that bad? You're liable to frighten the crew, calling it like that. I guess it doesn't matter much, as Long Bob's crew wouldn't be frightened by the same sort of things as frighten a typical sailor.

Her Grace is sailing with us as well, on her own personal ship, though for some reason there's a few folk she'd rather were on ours. One of them brought his horse. I suppose if she's unhappy with us, I'd rather this than less pay.

We stopped at Fort Blackwell, and I'm told I died. It's hard to remember it exactly like that, seeing as I'm not dead, but it's hard to remember much of what happened at all, when it comes down to it. Either way, I figure I owe something to the baroness here, who had me brought back, as thanks for my "valiant defense" of the place. If I did die, then I can't believe my help was so valuable. I'll send something back her way if I can.

It's been another while. Now that we're out of sight of land, I've remembered this journal. A few happenings of note since then, too.

A few of our men escorted the gnomish guide into a ruins on our route. I don't care to know what happened there. Half of them came back statues, and the witch doctor came back an orc. Strange enough, but he was a monkey before.

We came briefly to Fort Greenrock, which was completely razed. I think they decided it was lizardfolk responsible. Couldn't find them, though, they'd been gone for weeks.

Most important, though, Amella and I are man and wife. Not in that order, mind you. A long voyage like this can draw people closer together, and it did. When we came to the Olman's island Renkrue, everything seemed to fall together in a way I can hardly explain.

It nearly got away from us, though. That horse-loving fop decided to prove he loved other things; specifically the chief's daughter. I managed to smooth things over by gifting the chief with the horse. Everybody's happy. Everybody who counts.

This journal ends here.

A second journal continues on the next page.

With this line I open my new journal in the relative comfort of Farshore. The last one was lost at sea. I might endeavor to remember some of the old one to this sometime, but there's no time now.

Since that tumultuous time, our ship's health were threatened on three occasions. First, we were seperated from our employer, her grace the Lady Vanderboren, in a terrible storm. We were instructed to continue alone, which we did. Then, our ship found herself mired in a sargasso. I don't pretend to understand the biology of monsters, but as near as I can tell, the whole thing was alive and wished us ill.

The final event took the life of Kraken's Claw. As we neared our destination, the all-too-ominous Isle of Dread, another storm rose and dashed her on a reef, where it happened that sea monsters made their lair.

We survived, however, and too we survived the hundreds-miles-long trek across the island to Farshore, though I barely know how. I am continually in awe of the skill of these folk whose company I have been fated with. A group of ordinary men like me would not have stood a chance against the local fauna, most of which is at least twice as large if not twice again as that back home.

We briefly lost the gnome in a cursed wood. He was taken by monkeys, and I will say again, they were big ones. If he weren't an orc, I might mistrust our witch doctor, and maybe a part of me still does. But I doubt he has anything to do with these, which I am told are not really monkeys at all, but fiends. We invaded their temple and retrieved the gnome, all of which is a bit of a blur to me.

Finally, we find ourselves in our long-sought destination: Farshore, a village under attack by pirates. Though it's hard to believe, it's not always that way. From the look of it, they were able to leisurely stroll into the port and begin ransacking the place.

We strolled in likewise and killed the dogs, or most of them. I personally stuck their captain through the throat; a bad move, in hindsight, as he hadn't shared much with his crew. I could have guessed this, but at the time, I wondered if he'd ever stay down quietly while he yet lived, having once or twice already stood back up with what we'd thought were mortal wounds. He has my respect.

Now we're left with a town to defend, a few captive boucaniers, and their ship. One of those prisoners has already helped us, and it seems he'll continue to do so. The boat, on the other hand, has been claimed by Farshore's government muckabouts. Long Bob's been whining and fretting about that for a while. As we fought off the pirates who owned the boat, it should be ours, says he. I agree but for one: I says it already is, whether they know it or not.

So I spent the rest of the day a bit more productively. The common men in this town were a bit happier to see me than their lords. I was easily able to put together a crew, and some of them even know how to fire a ballista properly.

Tomorrow, we'll set sail to retrieve the Kraken's Claw, and it's under that pretense that we'll "borrow" the pirate's ship. By the time they realize they owe us the boat anyway, it won't matter anymore.

One other thing to 'ware: as I were recruiting, I caught the attention of this Olman creeper. He asked if he might join as well. I think he's a magician of some sort, and he's definitely got an odd enough manner, if not odder. A ship can use a mage, though, so I took him on with some reservation. Here's hoping I don't regret it.