Jammers:Turn 1, Chapter 7 Summary

The Ongoing adventures of my Spelljammer PBEM game.

Here's the Jammers web address:

http://jammers.s5.com/

Comments, questions always welcome:)

----------- = Meanwhile, elsewhere...
*********** = Later...

IC:

After the evening gathering, Dhebun wanders the ship, pipe dangling
from his mouth, looking for Freneth. As he passes the naugaladh
trees, sitting in their pots to either side of the mizzenmast, he
smiles in satisfaction to see them doing so well. Pausing for a
moment, the dwarf runs a pudgy hand along the trunk of the nearest
tree.  He admires its squat, dwarvish frame and  rough brown bark,
like some old mariner's skin, which seems almost to shine in the dim
light as shadows from the broad leathery green leaves play across its
surface.  Dhebun gives the sapling a paternal pat. "Bazhal aumzunad u
friddokh Mahlul," he says to them as he waters each. "Grow well, for
then shall you be of use to us."

Dhebun finds Freneth and he walks up to him, puffing out a few smoke
rings as he does so. "Hail Freneth my friend." Says the dwarf in the
speech of the dwarf folk. "I am wondering if you might aid me in a
task I wish to perform?"

Freneth glances up at Dhebun from the long coil of rope he has been
practicing at. He nods, and finishes off his practice of one of the
more common knots Grigree had been showing him earlier. Standing up,
he dusts off his hands, and smiles. Replying in dwarven, "Hail
Dhebun. I would be happy to help, what can I do?"

Dhebun answers, "I need your skill with that rope, Freneth, and a
small flask of wine. Can you find that for me?  We are going to make
a rune."

Freneth glances down at the rope, then replies, "I've not much skill
with them, Grigree is helping me learn how to work the ship. However,
I would be happy to find some wine for you." Freneth's thick accent
and occasionally archaic word indicates that whereever he learned the
tongue, it was far removed from 'popular' forms of the language.

Freneth quickly makes his way down to the galley, where he procures
some wine.  He then makes his way back to Dhebun. "Here it is," he
says, again in the dwarven dialect.

Seeing the eager halfling hurrying back with the wine, Dhebun nods
and replies in Khuzdul. "Well done, Freneth, that is more than
enough. Now, tie this end of the rope to the mast and I shall gird
myself with the other."

"I suppose I could do that," Freneth says in Khuzdul. "There is a
bettter rope for this in my room, I'll be right back."  So saying,
Freneth ducks back below deck, and scampers through the hallway to
the large room he shares with the others. He digs out a good length
of silk rope from his bag, and makes his way back up to Dhebun. He
tosses one end of the rope to the dwarf, and then starts tying his
end to the mast.

Quickly the dwarf makes his end of the rope fast around his middle.
"Now I'm going over the side here, for this must be carved upon the
prow, or as close as I may manage. Do not fret my friend, all shall
be well. Here, take the lantern, keep an eye on the rope and, when I
ask for it, hand me the wine." So saying, Dhebun carefully climbs
over the side.

He hangs before the ships broad face, to the left of the ram. Closing
his eyes he begins to chant, his deep voice rhythmic and flowing,
though the words are in a strange speech. After many long minutes of
monotonous chant, Dhebun's hazel eyes suddenly open wide, his gaze
seemingly fixed on some far off place. With trembling hands, Dhebun
reaches down and unsheathes his knife, his gaze unwaveringly on the
air before him.

The dwarf pierces the timber with a quick thrust of his dagger,
although he does not even look to see where he is carving. An odd,
crooked, letter takes shape as Dhebun works furiously. Soon, the
dwarf pulls his dagger away and replaces it, then turns his face to
his companion. "Freneth, the wine, now!" Dhebun tone is urgent,
almost pleading.

Freneth hurridly slips down the rope a way, and hands the wineskin to
Dhebun.  He seems pretty secure hanging on, and once Dhebun takes the
wine, he scoots back up.

Taking a small mouthful of wine, the dwarf then spits it upon the
newly carved rune and recites: "By the power of this charm, let this
vessel not be harmed."  After thrice doing so, Dhebun nods in
satisfaction and climbs back up to the deck, with Freneth's help.

Dhebun then repeats the ritual on each mast and the ship's two huge
steering oars. When he has finished the last chant Dhebun claps the
halfling on the back. "It is done my friend. By Mahl's whiskers I do
hope it worked."

"Hope what worked?  What were you doing down there?" asks Freneth,
continuing to speak in Dhebun's native tongue.

Placing his gnarled hands on Freneth's shoulders, the dwarf smiles
through his beard at the halfling. "We have carved a rune, Freneth, a
magickal sign of great power. With this rune, we have made, our ship
shall be more able to endure the hardship of battle, or so it seemed
to me as I made it, for even now the secret fades from my memory.
Consider it our gift to the NIGHTWIND and her gallant crew.  Now,
come and lets have a draught of the wine left in our flask and then
to bed my friend. I owe you dear anzhal Freneth."

Date/Time: Evening 11th day of the 8th Month, 5049 OC

***********

Early in the morning, as the Company of the Silent Star is preparing
the NIGHTWIND for departure, a scarlet painted tradesman with the
name GLORY painted in gold on her prow comes sailing in to dock next
to the NIGHTWIND.

"LOCK UP YOUR SONS AND DAUGHTERS!" a powerful, feminine voice calls
from the prow as the tradesman docks with dangerous speed and skill.
"THE SWASHBUCKLERS ARE BACK IN TOWN!"

The caller is an attractive elf in white and brown silk, a sabre
hanging from her belt. Her crew are all humans, elves, and
half-elves, about a dozen, all dressed flamboyantly. As they settle
their vessel into it's berth they jest back and forth with each other
loudly, with many guffaws.

Raken, who is sitting on the NIGHTWIND's ram reading his newly
purchased Bestiary, looks up when he hears the loud-mouth elf. He
shakes his head, yawns widely, then settles back in to read a
fascinating page on the claws of velociraptors, with an illustration.

Allagan looks up from the rope he is coiling and shakes his head
before returning to his duties.

Watching the docking vessel, Sekeht writes some notes on a piece of
parchment. "I wonder if they're bringing in some great treasure," he
says.

Allagan says, "Either that or they like being the center of
attention." Allagan smiles, "Though that elf is kind of cute, don't
you agree."

"Oh, I suppose," Sekeht says with a frown. "They all kind of look alike to me."

Allagan laughs, "One of the older priests used to say, 'Always keep
your personal life separate'."  Allagan half points at the other
ship, "Can't get more separate than another ship."

Ferric shakes his head with an amused look on his face. "Might as
well see if they have any news before we depart the Rock for a
while." he says to those nearby. Strolling down the gangplank he
watches as the gaudy ship is moored.  "Hello the GLORY." he calls

The elven lass glances over and looks the NIGHTWIND up and down. Them
she looks at Ferric, "Hello the galley!"

"I am Ferric of the Company of the Silent Star. Where are you in from?"

"Just cruising for pirates to take." She answers with a grin, "We can
happily report that Erik Bloodaxe and the RAVEN will take no more
vessels. What of yourselves? Making a grocer's run?" She says the
last with a slight tease in her voice.

"Something like that." Ferric replies. Thought we'd go out and pick
up a new pirate ship or two to add to our list of prize vessels."
Ferric peers about then says in a teasing voice of his own. "I don't
see the Raven, were you not swift enough to board her or was her crew
intimidating enough that you chose to do your fighting from heavy
weapons range?"

"Not worth keeping." She says, adding, "Good luck pirate hunting,
Ferric of the Company of the Silent Star, with a name that long you
folks will need all the coin you can raise just for paint to name
your ship!" With a good natured laugh she and her crew return
jovially to docking their vessel.

Allagan says to Sekeht, "Ah, pirate hunters. I am sure we will get
along smashingly."

"Hmm," Sekeht replies, frowning at the scarlet vessel. "I think I'll
go below," he adds suddenly, then turns and goes below.

Allagan drops the rope he was coiling and heads below too, "Hey
Sekeht, what's wrong?"

"Hmm?" Sekeht says, without turning. "Nothing. I just wanted to check
on Tamit."

"Fine." says Allagan and he returns above decks.

-----------

Argonui arrives on time, along with Lady Moune who wishes the crew a
lucky voyage and a fond farewell, being certain to send a playful
'Good bye, I know you wish me good riddance!' Italapate's way.

Departure from the Rock goes quite smoothly and the NIGHTWIND has
little trouble  maneuvering through the vessels surrounding the docks
with Leera at the helm and Ferric calling the sail orders.

Argonui stands on the deck smiling at this, his gear about him on
deck. As Bral is left behind he says to Ferric, "Best not to head
directly the way we wish to go yet, just head any inside Bral's
orbit. Later I'll give you the true heading, after we know no ship
follows us."

Ferric nods, "Tis too bad Leera is helming else she could use her
powers of illusion to help mask us from prying eyes once we are out
into the sphere a ways. Since that would add another 16 hours to our
voyage I suppose we'll have to do this the old fashioned way."

Holland replies, "One of the crew wishes to stop by Numeliador, would
that be a problem?"

Argonui says, "It would add 36 to 48 hours to the trip but it would
also hide our destination." Argonui shrugs, "It's up to you, if you
think it worthwhile, I see no harm in going there first."

Holland says, "Well, then it would serve two good purposes. Let us be
off to Numeliador."

Talus says, "Excellent. Thank you."

"I shall plot the course and let Leera know. We will have her sit out
her shift on the helm when we near the place so that we may take
advantage of her talents and be doubly sure to avoid the prying eyes
of any foes."  Ferric heads below to get the sextant and charts
alerting Leera to the change as he does so.

Leera nods as Ferric tells her of the change in course. "Ah... Stoney
agreed to let us go get a blessing for Talus, eh? Very well."

Date/Time: Morning 12th day of the 8th Month, 5049 OC

***********

It takes six days to sail from Bral to Numliador, which is closer to
the sun, and currently near the Starbeast portal (just as Bral is
near the Giff portal). There is not much traffic along this route,
though the ship does pass a Sindiath Line man-o-war and  a day later
a House Moune tradesman (the GOLDFISH under Captain Rafe Willowand)
both on their way to Bral.

Holland spends most of his off-time during their voyage to Numliador
studying his spellbook, though he does spend some time with Argonui
going over the COSS's copy of the Eternal Locus. They find no
differences other then the inclusion of directions in Argonui's
account.

Ives spends his time with his feet sounding out a beat on the deck as
he practices with his blade. Snapping the shield, which on a human
would be a large shield, around almost like a buckler Ives blocks the
blow of an imaginary foe. Sending his sword through a powerful series
of strikes, Ives arm cocked high then dropping and twisting down to
slice from left to right, then a cut with the false edge across the
waist, and a final long lunge with the tip of his sword.
Twirling back and forth going through the simple cuts in a variety of
patterns Ives sounds like what he is, a giff thundering around the
deck.

Freneth spends his mornings asleep after his shift, and then spends
the afternoon playing in the riggings of the ships, learning what he
can, and also with Billy, about the use of the ballista's use.

He chats with anyone who seems interested, most of his questions
being centered on the idea of magical items, and how they work. On
the second day, Freneth scampers up to the tallest point of the main
mast, and slips on his ring. He then hurls himself from the mast, and
gently floats down. His face is totally awestruck during the fall.

Ferric spends at least two hours each day practicing his footwork and
swordplay as well as knife throwing (using an old plank as a target
so Nilaroo doesn't have a fit).  He practices various combinations of
rapier alone, rapier/maine-guache, and dual wielded rapiers. Once he
finishes working on his own he welcomes any who wish to spar, but
wields blunted practice blades while facing his shipmates.

Date/Time: 13th to the 17th days of the 8th Month, 5049 OC

***********

Six days out from Bral, around noon, Numliador is looming before the
NIGHTWIND, about an hour out. Despite the beautiful brown-green
planet before them, however, the crew is more interested in the
shining white butterfly vessel approaching. It's about 20 minutes
away.

"Looks like a radiant ship." Argonui remarks. "Likely the Numliador
picket. The elves are at war, after all."

Holland replies, "At war? What have you heard about it, I have just
heard the usual rumors of scro and elf fighting."

Argonui looks at Holland quizzically, "You don't think two races
locked in genocidal conflict is a war?"

Holland shrugs, "Yes, I would call it a war. We helped the elves destroy a
scro scorpion a few weeks back. What have you heard of the overall conflict?"

"So, you folks have sided with the elves? Good choice, the scro
aren't likely to be too understanding with humans if they win."
Argonui shrugs, "But I only know what everyone reads in the Crystal
Ball, myself. Seems like the war is heating up again."

Holland replies, "Maybe the elves on Numliador can give us a more
detailed update."

"Holland is too modest."  Ferric says  "He has neglected to mention
that we also destroyed two more of their vessels as we left Spiral.
They were the fastest, most agile craft I have ever seen. Of course
we did have our ship blown out from under us and it was only through
sheer luck and ingenuity that we managed to form a raft and limp to
Ironpiece. A scro vessel is definitely a worthy opponent with which
to test your boarding mettle. They seem to be made of much sterner
stuff than any pirate crew we have faced to date. I personally would
not mind having another go at them some day."

Argonui laughs, "Sounds like I've chosen a good group then, if you
can slay scro that well then some giant lizards should be no problem."

As the butterfly gets closer Holland says, "Everyone, don't make them
excited, eh?"

Talus sweeps back his hair back behind his ears and steps up to stand
beside Holland.

Grigree climbs out of the rigging and comes over to stand behind the
pair. He stoops his shoulders a bit to keep from towering over them.

"Shall we signal them what!" Ives booms out as he looks down at both
Holland and Argouni. The Giff tilts his chin as if he's looking at
his toes directly below him.

Holland replies, "I don't think that will be necessary, I think they
are to close."

Kain heads for the crow's nest, shinning up the rigging before he
stops about halfway up. After a look towards the approaching vessel,
he slips easily down the rigging and straightens his vest once he's
on the deck.

"Wonder if they'll..erm..even let us approach, seein' as we're..
well, not expected or anything," Kain shrugs.  "Wouldn't know.. ah..
never have been at war with anyone before," he smiles momentarily,
and then continues to watch the elvish vessel.

Holland replies, "That is a possibility. We'll find out momentarily."

"I'll have my semaphore flags ready what!" Ives states as he strides
to the hold where they were stored.

As the elven vessel nears the 3 minutes away mark Ferric calls down
the tube, "Full stop.  We'll let them approach us."

But it does prove necessary to have the semaphore, as the elven
vessel slows about five hundred yards out and begins signaling. Ives
responds and for fifteen minutes or so The ship is interrogated in
this manner, as they elves ask for name, owners, captain, and a crew
manifest. Ives responds in full to each question, his arms flailing
like a wind mill.

Finally, the radiant ship closes to boarding distance and a party of
a dozen heavily armed elves (of a variety of subraces) pour aboard.
Though wearing the silvery elven chainmail, their tabards do not
display the man-o-war symbol of the Elven Imperial Fleet. Instead,
they have a bewildering away of armorial devices.

For an hour they thoroughly question everyone aboard and inspect the
ship, then they return to the ship and hand the party a small roll of
parchment for the Numliador harbor boats. The officer still looks
suspiciously at Talus and his request to see a priest of Aerdrie
Faenya but he seems to have decided to accept the story.

Tired from the questioning, the crew then follows the elves directions to
Numliador port, another three hours flying.

It is however, quite worth it when the spectacular down appears,
glowing softly in it's twilight, hanging amongst the gigantic
branches of the titanic plant which joins the dozen or so large
asteroids which make up the planet together.

Numliador Port is on an extended branch, pushed out from the main
plant at about the level of the equator, if Numliador had an equator.
The size of the town is hard to determine, since the branches obscure
much of it, but there appear to be scores of buildings hanging here
and there on giant platforms, joined together by sturdy rope and
plank bridges. Several docks extend out from what appears to be the
gravity plane. Perhaps a dozen vessels, including two elven men-o-war
are docked at these.

A swan boat sails out to the NIGHTWIND and her crew helps the Company
of the Silent Star find a berth for their vessel. As night begins to
fall on the strange tree town in space the Company and their vessel
is snuggly docked.

Date/Time: Evening 18th day of the 8th Month, 5049 OC
--
"We sleep safely in our beds, only because rough men stand guard in
the night, ready to visit violence upon those who would do us harm."
H.G. Wells.

Paul Westermeyer,  westermeyer.3@???.edu
Phd Candidate, History, Ohio State University
Instructor, Humanities, Columbus State Community College