Pre-Game IC: The Ship Graveyard

[XQbitor]

With introductions breaking the ice between them, the diverse group of individuals exchange names, forming a cordial bond within the confined space of the derelict ship. Ford, in his deep and resonant voice, announces his purpose: "I am seeking a ship to serve on. I am good at rattling. Even better with guns". It is obvious, even for the group, that Ford isn't used to speak much.

They noticed the lone firefly lighting up the ship's naming plaque just below the ceiling. The boughbreaker. Ford nodded approving: A strong name for a strong ship. A shame as it is that she won't plow through the Wildsea in her condition. In recognition Ford pads the hull of the ship, loudly.

As Ford half listens to the chatter in the room, a circle of fireflies begins to twirl up the nearby stairs, their ethereal glow captivating their attention. An inexplicable pull tugs at their instincts, compelling them to follow this enchanting trail. What secrets might the fireflies hold? Ford's enormous bulk starts to follow the fireflies' light, though with a hand resting on his beloved Widow.

[Morkskittar]

Ford takes several steps forward and clomps up the stairs, following the fireflies as they dance. He finds himself facing a barrier of splintered and broken wooden planks. After a brief pause, he shoulders through them, snapping them further as he steps out into another room, at the center of which is a single table, with a thick book on it. He walks over to the table and lifts up the book. A firefly alights on the book's cover, revealing its title: Ship Log: Boughbreaker. Seeing no other apparent exits from the room, Ford walks back down the stairs, book in hand, and rejoins the others. They all immediately notice the dusty tome the cannoneer carries, and a few of them cast nervous eyes at the still ironbound. It does not move.

[CraterShip]

"The log?" he breathes almost reverently at the tome after reading the front cover. Immediately, his mind races across the possibilities of adventures had on the very boards he now stood on. What sort of tyrants had been fought, how far had she explored? What, ultimately, caused her to fall to this state? 

"Well, what does it say?" his curiosity getting the better of him, though he is not in a hurry to try to grab it from the hulking, spiny, Ford.

[XQbitor]

With a sense of reverence, Ford recovers the giant tome, the ship's log, hidden within the derelict vessel's depths. Their thick fingers carefully handles this relic with utmost care. After admirering the rare leafs the book was bound in, they carefully carries this invaluable artifact down to the remaining group, who regard it with curiosity and anticipation.

Tolliver is the first to voice their interest in the log, urging Ford to open and share its contents. Ford, with an almost surprising dexterity for someone with thick, cactus-like fingers, manages to unfasten the latch that had kept the log closed for so long. With a gentle sigh, the dusty pages of the log are revealed, filled with tales and secrets from the ship's past. Like a ripe fruit ready to burst from the slightest pressure, Ford carefully placed the log on a somewhat clear surface.

As Ford begins to read from the log, the group leans in, their eyes fixed on the pages, eager to uncover the mysteries and stories that lie within the faded ink and weathered parchment. Ford starts with the first page: all life has a start and Ford wants to know what good fortunes Boughbreaker had when she first set sail through the Verdant. Where did she come from and who was her captain? Was it a good maiden voyage or did she struggle?

Edited September 14, 2023 by XQbitor (see edit history)

[Morkskittar]

Ford opens the log, and those around them wait with bated breath as they flip through the pages. To Ford's disappointment, most of the log is written in some kind of cipher, or else a language they do not recognize. However, there are some entries, written in haste or in a different hand than the rest, that Ford can make out. He reads what he can without trouble.

Logbook Opening

Herein are contained the chronicles of the Boughbreaker, third volume, as dictated by Captain Sagave GerinA name familiar to those of you up to date on current events; the current Guildmaster of the Stepstone Merchant's Guild, an ektus rumoured to be nearly two centuries old, has the same name. to the Chronicler Hedak Gynn, during the hunt for the Tyrant's Bloom, at its fifth awakening. This ship, built by the good craftsfen of Cleft Peak before my parents were a twinkle in an eye, has seen much in its hundred years on the wildsea, and may it see many more. We set sail after provisioning from Stepstone in Torrek's Reach, setting a course westward along the Concourse of Petals to the Florid Sepulcher, stopping at the ports of Krevitch and Vajek before arriving at Verdurance to begin our search, provided we evade the Church. May our quest prove fruitful, and let us find the Bloom so that we can free our home from the tyranny of that monster Torrek.

Those listening who have traveled any great distance know that the reach directly to the east, now called Tyrant's EndA little of my vanity, I fear; I am currently running a non-play-by-post campaign set in Tyrant's End (about 20 years after this game), so some of that reach's lore will occasionally leak in here., was once called Torrek's Reach. Considering that the great leviathan Torrek was slain there only a few years past (hence the renaming), it can only be assumed that the Boughbreaker failed to obtain the Bloom, that its powers and treasures were not sufficient to defeat it, or that whatever the Bloom granted was not used to defeat the leviathan.

Ford skipped over some gibberish text, then read more.

Logbook, Fishing at Angler's Spire

All of the fisherfolk of Angler's Spire say the same thing: when the dead dance, the Bloom is near, and that when Karaxes roars, he hunts the Bloom like any mortal does, even beyond his range if need be. Follow the centipede, they say, and it will lead you to the Tyrant's Bloom, for it he loathes it more than any can say. When pressed on how they know this, the fisherfolk shrug, and say the rustling leaves whisper secrets if you listen hard enough and speak their tongue.

Another few moments of rapid page turning followed.

Logbook, Treachery at Inskpill

Our navigator and cartographer, Jarikko Esplendi, turned on us this morning. They had been working on a detailed chart of the Sepulcher, complete with historical information about the previous Bloomings, for our captain, and were offered a substantial bribe by another crew. Our first mate, Ssarkifan the Gallows, caught him in the act, and she chased him down through the stacks. By the time she caught him, the ketra quisling had already hidden his chart among the thousands of documents in the library, where no one could find it. Before we could mount a search for it, both ourselves and the other crew were made to leave Inkspill by the Union for endangering historical knowledge and upsetting the monstrous Scriveners. Jarikko is now lost to the waves, having been cast from the side of our vessel for their disloyalty. We are set back much without that chart, which would have provided us with many clues as to the Bloom's next appearance.

More flipping, then Ford read on.

Logbook, The Flower People of Titana and Gorgantha

The fisherfolk say Karaxes hated the Bloom, but we never saw the curst thing. It seems the flower people hate it more, though; to them, the Tyrant's Bloom is an interloper. We have run across many Roseate Attendants, ranging far from their home, on our journey, and more followers of Lady Aster than I care to count. The Lytheans seem to hate the idea of the Bloom more than any; they wish to destroy it, and make use of some sort of flower-sense to track it. I think following a Lythean ship, should one manage to do so without attracting their attention, might be a better path to the Bloom than following Karaxes. Probably safer, too.

Shortly after, Ford found another decipherable passage.

Logbook, That Damn Pirate at Sarkosa

Mothryn live forever in their own way, too. I have always suspected some of them remember more from their past lives than they let on. There is one such creature that frequents the worst hives of scum and villainy on Sarkosa, Old Jaethro, who is said to have lived a hundred lives and to remember each one. Such a claim is nonsense, of course, as that would make the mothryn almost two thousand years old, but our rumourmongers say that it is possible he has lived five or six and to have retained more from them than most. An incarnation of Old Jaethro sailed on the ship that found the Bloom last time, and he knows more than he lets on about it. He's damn cagey; it took us two weeks to track him down in one damn port, and when we found him it took six casks of punchberry wine before he even started talking, and what he told us was damn near useless. That is, until our cabin boy Evon threw a flower at him in frustration, and the old mothryn gibbered in fear and let it all out. A frustration, to be sure, but with his insights (ciphered below), we can get a head start on the flower, and maybe find it before it blooms, when it is still weak, and claim the treasures and secrets it guards for our own. Old Jaethro seems content to drink himself to death at Sarkosa; I think he will still be there the next time the Bloom comes, rebirthing himself between drinks. I wonder what it is he saw that drove him to such wanton waste of life and liver.

Then, near the end, there was more.

Logbook, The Herald, Two Weeks out from Port Sakura

It is terrible in its majesty and beauty, its wings a shimmering slip of dreams and fantasies stained red with blood. One by one, the other vessels were deemed unworthy, their crews perishing in a myriad host of manners. We slipped beneath its gaze, and then stealth failed us and it pursued us. Only Akor's cannons saved us, driving away the beast, and we approached the bloom itself. It turned its head toward us, and with its floral gaze everything changed.

Then there was only cipher, but of a different sort than what came before. Ford wasn't even sure it meant anything; it looked more like a toddler's scrawl than writing. As Ford opened the last pages that had writing on them, a torn piece of shimmering pressed petal, only six inches long and three wide, fluttered out from between the pages, seeming to flit between every colour known on the seas, and settled on the ground between those gathered there. The fireflies all drew away from it.

Edited September 14, 2023 by Morkskittar (see edit history)

[Nightshyft]

Quietly...swiftly. Those were two things that Kryk did well. Quietly and swiftly. So quiet as to have slipped in as the somber voice breathed life to the past. Swift enough that nothing could have prevented his arrival. Still...that was what he was now. Very, very still. This he also found easy. Quiet. Swift. And Still. But, like all things, these qualities will sometimes not be enough. Especially when not everything was still...while his body was like one of the very beams of this hull, his apparel was not...decidedly so. It swayed and swirled, whispered and clicked as its talons twitched. "Shhhhh...not nice to fidget. Quiet...still..." the words are whispered to the mass of furred and feathered mane across the figures shoulders, not to any of the others around the book.

A few breaths pass as he realizes that the others should have noticed him by now. Looking up, his wide eyes flit across each of them as bladed antennae twitch, " Crew?" It was a one word question, one weighted with more meaning than the obvious. The tone was of hope, and desire...of need and something else. "Are you Crew? The others said Kryk would need a Crew. Kryk doesn't know what a Crew is...do you?" As he speaks, his heads shifts with quick , sudden movements, " Kryk needs a Crew and a...Vessel! Kryk is searching...looking. Are you also searching?" The question lies there, waiting for an answer that might be what Kryk needs.

Edited September 15, 2023 by Nightshyft (see edit history)

[Diceros]

The truth was, K liked the rain. It was soothing on the skin and calming to her thoughts. But this wasn't rain. It was a deluge, and water and paper don't play nice together. Although her leather satchel was waterproofed, she wasn't willing to test its durability against such a storm and risk her precious cargo of letters and small packages.

She had taken refuge under a small overhang of bent metal and trailing cables when the rain had really started to pour. As she watched the rain and lightning, she replayed the last couple hours in her mind, of walking around the graveyard of scrap, talking to some of the more "friendly" looking scavengers about leads to find a ship. There was one Ketra that didn't seem too seedy, who said they had room for her. But when presented with the ramshackle, rust eaten lump of scrap that they called their "ship", K decided that her letters could arrive a little bit late if it meant that she could live a little bit longer, and she politely declined the offered spot.

A blast of thunder made her jump and shook the overhang apart, sending a downpour of water onto her.

"Oh, hell!" she exclaimed, sprinting away from the waterfall and into the storm. She searched frantically for some kind of shelter and spied a hole in the hull of a ship, just big enough to scurry into. Much to her relief, it was dry inside. She quickly checked her satchel and blew out a breath, relieved that the letters were dry, too. The rain on the hull was deafening though, so she moved further inside, shaking the water from her wings.

"With my luck, I'll be stuck here till morning," she muttered. "I should have eaten more at lunch." She wrung out her sopping shirt, keeping her eyes on the uneven floor to watch her footing. She stepped through a doorway with her head down, and collided into something solid. Solid-ish? She stepped back, and found herself looking at a mass of chitin, fur, and clicking claws. Behind them were several others: another Mothryn, an Ironbound, a Gau, an Ardent, and an Ektus. They stood around the Ektus, who held a book in their hands.

"Oh. Sorry," K said, stepping back again. "I didn't realize this place was, um, occupied."

[CraterShip]

"I don't think there is a reason to apologize," Tolliver looks up from the ship's log in order to greet the newcomer. At this point, there appears to be little which will surprise him about others in this storm.

"We are all just taking shelter here," he continues, "storm like this one, there's little else to do."

Tolliver then turns his attention back to the log in Ford's hands. The information contained within seems to be almost a blueprint to a bloom. If Tolliver, or anyone with him, were able to stop such an event, it would go a long way toward securing safety for the treetop dwellers.

[Moveslikejagger]

As the large Ford reads the logbook, Atus seems lost in the words, either that or he is considering them so carefully that whatever is happening inside what he calls a head is ponderous and slow moving because of the weight. When Ford finishes speaking and the multicolored petal flutters down to rest against the floor, several moments pass, others speak and Atus still looks at the petal, as if nothing else mattered in the world. "A secret thing I feel. A scent to follow for those who have the nose for such things."

Atus levers himself to his feet. His heavy bulk making the boards he stands on creak as he slowly moves across the room to where the fanged flower picture is stuck to the wall. Something can be heard spinning inside Atus and sparks curl across his chest like liquid curls of bright hair. By the light he glances from the petal on the floor to the hastily drawn image, silently wondering if there is any connection between the two.

Atus begins speaking, but he doesn't seem to be talking to anyone in particular, more musing to himself out loud, uncaring if he disturbs anyone else. "Many paths, but which to take? A centipedal wake, more below the green than above, must look for sign without being seen, a quiet ship of stealth full of long-sighted eyes needed to follow a dangerous path. A reborn knowledge keeper, the knowledge ciphered here. Revisit or decipher, the path leads to Sarkosa or Inkspill with perhaps more secrets at Inkspill than the pirate haven; a ship of strength and power needed so that predators fear our presence for either pathway. The flower people might follow the scent, such a secret would be valuable to them, maybe enough to kill for. Deliver the petal and follow the ships sent for the bloom? Another ship of power and speed. Many paths, each with dangers seen and unseen. No ship for all paths, The Boughbreaker reveals that history will repeat and end in failure. One final secret revealed near Port Sakura, although the location might change, for what is the chance the bloom will rise in the same place twice? Regardless, a beautiful protector with wings covered in dreams and blood must be overcome. A protector with sharp eyes whom stealth cannot defeat, who kills in myriad ways, is fast and strong. Overcome to prove worthy enough to face the Tyrant's Bloom."

Atus walks around the room, touching various surfaces with gentle caressing fingers and exploring sparks. "I like a ship with so many secrets to share. Would you like to sail the green again? Would you like to be strong and fierce and proud once more? What powers your mighty heart Boughbreaker? Will my sparks and skill bring you back to glory?" Atus turns to the group, "Perhaps chance brought us here, perhaps something divine. Do we squander what is offered, or do we unite our skills and determination in pursuit of common purpose?"

[Morkskittar]

In response to Atus' poetic waxing, the sleeping ironbound opened their eyes and sighed with a shivering creak. "You aren't going to leave me be even when this rain stops, are you?" With more creaking, albeit of a different timbrePun fully intended., the ironbound stands. "Follow. You can have that book, if you want. It means nothing, now." They headed down the stairs, and the assembled wildsailors followed them with various degrees of trepidation.

The further everyone walked down the length of what was, apparently, a very large ship, the more tilted the deck became, until they could nearly slide down it. The lower decks of the Boughbreaker ended, ironically, with a massive tree bough having broken through the ship. Beyond the gaping hole was a cavern, of sorts, in the upper tangle. The air was thick, damp, and warm, but the smell of crezzerin was present, but not overpowering.

Scattered across this arboreal cavern were the bones of a long-dead-leviathan, one that looked like it had once been some kind of great serpent. "The beast that broke the Boughbreaker, far below the waves," the Ironbound said. "Its bones would be good for you to use to build your own ships and get off of mine."

Looking out over the field of bones below the treeline, those who had gathered were struck by inspiration and determination, and began to get to work. To everyone's surprise, the ironbound themselves chipped in, directing the soon-to-be crew in how to use the bones to build the backbone of a ship. It became apparent quickly that there were two visions of ships, and so the group of ten split into two crews of five. One group saw the split skull of the beast (with a desiccated beetle wedged in its jaws), and used those skull pieces to build a catamaran. The other was inspired by a long, intact backbone, with ribs, and used that as their frame.

The storm stopped, but most of the ten set up camp in the ship, despite the ironbound's grumbled protestations, and continued to work. They scrounged from other ships on the graveyard, including three sets of longjaw saws, which were affixed to the spine and skull pieces of the fallen beast. With the ironbound's help, the crew shaped wood to make decks inside the skeleton, and to everyone's surprise, the ironbound even let them use pieces of the Boughbreaker (naturally, they had to approve every piece that was repurposed).

Halfway through the ships' construction, Ford vanished, and though the other searched for him, none could find any trace of him. Though saddened, the group worked on, and before they knew it they had three ships (two proper ships and one skiff, built in the chitinous husk of the beetle for "camouflage").

"Well, though are fine ships that will do you proud," the ironbound said at last. "What names will they bear?"

The rest of the day was spent in argument, before a consensus was reached for each ship.

The Argos

Tolliver, Park, Tharr, and Atus (and formerly the absent Ford) made up one of the crews, and they had built the Argos. Their ship was a catamaran, with the two halves of the dead leviathan's skull each making up one of the hulls, and an arch of bone connecting the two. A thin longjaw was bolted to the bottom of each hull. Nestled between the skulls was a spring-launch mechanism, into which a skiff, cleverly disguised as a beetle, sat, waiting to be launched.

Abovedecks

Between railings of bone, bronzewood planks laid the foundation for the upper deck of both hulls. Four cannon emplacements, two on each side, were bolted to the deck, and on the prow of the starboard hull sat a crackling stormrail, cobbled together from some junk Atus had picked up in the Verdurance scrapyard. On the port hull, a large trapdoor (and winch) open up onto a cargo hold, and a smaller trapdoor on both hulls opened up to stairs leading belowdecks. At the hull's prow, opposite the stormrail, was a hive of skappbeetles: trained spirit-beetle messengers that Tolliver and Ham had picked up for both ships a the market as a means for both crews to stay in contact.

The upper level of the connective arch towered over both decks; stairs on the port hull led up to a sealed steering room with a good view of the surrounding area, fitted with pilfered amber windows and a ladder leading belowdecks.

Belowdecks

The crew quarters were situated just below the steering, in the lower level of the connective bone-arch, accessed via stairs from either hull.

The port hull only had two rooms: a cargo hold in the rear and a workshop in the front. At the front of the workshop was port engine, a set of magnetic coils linked up the longjaw below. On the interior side of the workshop, Atus installed a set of doors that open out onto the lower decks of the attached skiff, affectionately named "Biff."

The starboard hull had more subdivisions; a long hallway at the foot of the stairs had two doors. The first door led to a small storage room for the crew to store their own supplies and equipment, with the ship's head at the very rear of the ship. The second door opened up onto the galley, which held a table (and four stools), a chemical stove, a food prep table and a night farm. Tharr's butchery was attached to the galley toward the rear, and Park's small cooling facility sat across from the night farm. The starboard engine room lay at the front of the ship.

The Argos was a generalist ship, able to handle a variety of situations, but its light build and catamaran structure emphasized its stability and speed. Its attached skiff, which was still very much a work in progress, had extra cargo space and was pulled by a sawprow attached to the front, and could be launched at great speed from between the catamaran hulls.

The Slipfang

The Slipfang, the ship built by Ham, K, Kryk T'k, Helena, and the recent arrival Duo was a more imposing ship than the Argos, being longer and taller. Build from and around the spine of the beast, the Slipfang had a much larger longjaw, which was strapped to the fallen leviathan's backbone. It had a single hull, but voluminous space within it. The crew of the Slipfang had also hired on a trio of deck engineers to help them build.

Abovedecks

The Slipfang's top deck boasted two short masts, with rig-ropes running from them to the edges of the vessel. To the front mast, a kitesail was tethered, while the ship's skappbeetle hive was situated next to the rear one. A grated hatch to the cargo bay, complete with winch, lay between the masts, while another, unopenable grate on the prow let in sunlight for the solar compressor below. The ship's reinforced prow was fitted with a wicked collection of sharpened bone and serrated iron that would tear most ships to splinters upon contact with it.

Towards the rear of the ship, a trapdoor provided access to the lower deck, while a staircase led to the ship's steering room, which included a small wheel to steer the ship, as well as a panel of (mostly nonfunctional) controls and dials, including one for directing the chemical spotlight welded to the top of the raised steering room. A pane of amber let the pilot see where they were going, and a door behind them opened up onto a navigational suite. A ladder in one corner of the steering room led belowdecks.

Belowdecks

Belowdecks, the main stairs opened up onto the galley, which had a table (and six chairs), a rudimentary stove, a shelf for storing ingredients, a cauldron, and several kegs under the stairs. There was a small butchery off of the galley, and the deck engineer's quarters were right below it, accessible via a hallway leading to the cargo hold off the galley. The ship's cargo hold was massive, holding ample room for future fitting to be carved out of it, but for now designated for holding both the crew's supplies and commercial cargo. At the front of the ship, beyond the cargo hold, was a metal double-doors that opened onto the engine room, which was dominated by the solar compressor.

The rear of the ship boasted the quarters of the rest of the crew, as well as the head. Each crewmember had their own private room, with Helena at the end of the first hallway, after Ham and K, and Duo and Kryk T'k along the second hallway, past the double-head. In the hallway between the crew's quarters, a ladder led up to the steering room.

"Good names," said the ironbound with approval. "Now let's get these to the surface so I can rest at last." The crews shot them a puzzled look, but did as they were asked, getting onto their respective ships and aiming them at the Boughbreaker. "Safe travels, and may you find better luck than I did when my caretakers found what they sought." The ironbound vanished back into their ship, and there was a deep rumbling as the Boughbreaker's engine and bite came to life.

Moments later, the Boughbreaker surged backward, towards the Argos and Slipfang, and then tore down deeper into the tangle, vanishing into the trees below. A shout from far below echoed. "GO!" Through the newly opened channel to the surface created by the vacated Boughbreaker, the two ships sped, before the trees could regenerate and close it up again. Sunlight hit the decks of both ships for the first time in many years as they burst out into the ship graveyard.

Scavengers watched the two ships with mixtures of envy and interest as they threated their way through the ship detritus to finally dock, properly, at Verdurance's south harbor. Once docked, the crew considered going after their mysterious benefactor, then decided that the ironbound probably preferred the peace and quiet. The more spiritually attuned among the crew wondered if they had been aided by the spirit of the Boughbreaker itself.

More pressing matters were at hand though: the crews had ships, and now they needed cargo (to find their journey) and plans.

OOC

Ships and crew are all set to go! I'm still working on each of your setting off posts, which will hopefully go up in a day or two; it'll be an opening montage to pick up cargo, do a little exploring of Verdurance, ferret out rumors, and figure out where you want to go first!

[Passione]

"I guess this is goodbye. I'll never get used to how final our interactions with revenants can be, anchored, ghosts, and whatnot. What is life if but a fevered dream? Fascinating, maybe a little bit terrifying, but definitely interesting." Ham takes their gaze from sealing rift that they came from, and towards the south west. Somewhere, out there, the Bloom awaits.

The scrawling on the log and the drawing does bug them. "Is this one of those instances where the wish didn't go well? I can only guess." A shiver runs down from the base of their neck, down to their legs. I feel unprepared. I need more books on the subject.

They pull the straps of their pack tighter to regain some composure, and watch the slinks play with the skappbeetles to regain some semblance of sanity, before disembarking into Verdurance proper.

"Thank you, Park. That meal was to die for. I guess this means it'll be a while before we see the lot of you again. What are you guys thinking of getting before you set off?"

 

 

Edited October 17, 2023 by Passione
Image improvement (see edit history)

[Moveslikejagger]

"I make no plans but will visit the market. No doubt something will find me looking for a place to belong. But if I could wish for something to find I will find eyes that see and know where to saw." Atus says with a serious tone to his voice. "You see it occurs to me that eyes that can see under the sea and know where to saw are truly for seeing and sawing and would be useful things. I don't mean foreseeing eyes, although foreseeing eyes would also see the sea and know to saw, if you see what I mean. But eyes that are for seeing under the seas to know the saw. Or maybe ears for seeing the sea and the saw, you can never quite know these things until you've seen them. A nose for seeing under the sea and knowing to saw, I could never see seeing. Do you see what I mean?"