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<blockquote data-quote="ilgatto" data-source="post: 8847804" data-attributes="member: 86051"><p><strong><span style="font-size: 18px">An Adventure in Five Acts, Act I – The Fortnight (continued)</span></strong></p><p></p><p>When he realizes where he is, Navarre finds himself in the water, close to some shore featuring a huge, blackened tree obviously struck by lightning some time ago. He is sinking rapidly, as is the <em>chevalier</em> – both are wearing metal armor. Fortunately, Navarre finds the water to be only some six feet deep. Some yards away from him is a large barge, where a figure is shining a light at him.</p><p>“Er, hello?,” a hesitant male voice sounds.</p><p>“A rope!,” Navarre shouts. “A rope! We’re in armor! A rope! Hurry, man!”</p><p>Thus, despite the thick layer of slick on the bottom and thanks only to a truly Herculean effort (NWP <em>Endurance)</em> involving jumps, much holding of breath, frantic paddling, and grabbing of ropes, Navarre manages to get to the barge in his armor, where he is hoisted aboard by Sir Oengus and Sir Oerknal. The <em>chevalier</em> is not so lucky. Thrashing about wildly, he manages to hit something floating in the water and grabs it. When this turns out to be a corpse, he lets go of it with a startled cry – and starts sinking again. Left with no choice but to get out of his armor, he eventually manages to reach the barge without it, where his noble fellows drag him aboard.</p><p>The figure with the lantern turns out to be a smallish man built, if anything, like a orangutan, with short legs, a massive chest, and long arms. On his head is a cap that reads “Captain”. He looks at our noble heroes with a startled look on his face.</p><p>“Erm…,” he stammers, before regaining some of his composure. “My Lords! Captain Clifford. At your service.”</p><p>“Why, thank you, my good man,” the drenched <em>chevalier</em> says, shaking the captain’s hand. <em>“Enchanté,</em> I’m sure.”</p><p>Navarre, still reeling from the event and not at all in the mood for a conversation, starts taking off his armor and wet clothes. When he is finished, he notices Sir Suvali going through a set of robes and cloaks. The sorcerer retrieves a strange, vest-like garment which he subjects to a short inspection and then dons. Sir Oengus is next to him.</p><p>“What’s with the long clothes?,” he asks.</p><p>“The robes of the dear old Rector,” the sorcerer says, nimbly pocketing a silver necklace with an acorn pendant. “Looks like he didn’t survive the ordeal.”</p><p>Then another individual appears on deck. It is a portly woman with large hair, garish clothes, extraordinary amounts of make-up, and toting a loaded crossbow. In a stark contrast, she has the slim, petite hands and feet of a lady of noble birth.</p><p>Now, Navarre seriously considers the possibility that he is dreaming. But no, when he looks over his shoulder, he sees Apple Island in the distance, fires burning everywhere. Every now and then, shouts and screams reach him from across the water. What to do now? It seems madness to try and get back to the island – indeed, he and his noble fellows may be the only ones to have survived the event! And what of his father? His mother? His dear sisters?</p><p>The <em>chevalier</em> has gallantly introduced himself to the fat woman, who presently lowers the crossbow, smiles bashfully and then invites everybody below decks for a “nice cup of herbal tea”. Navarre decides he is no mood for herbal tea.</p><p>“I say!,” he calls to captain Clifford. “Captain! How’s about something stronger? It’s been a rough night.”</p><p>“Certainly, my Lord,” captain Clifford says. “As luck would have it, I just happen to store a fine gin below decks. Just follow me.”</p><p>“One moment, captain,” Navarre says, pointing to the blackened tree on the shore. “Is that tree the <em>Tree of Olm?”</em></p><p>“It is, my Lord,” captain Clifford says.</p><p>Navarre throws him an incredulous look.</p><p>“Surely you don’t mean…?,” he asks.</p><p>“Ha, ha, ha!,” captain Clifford laughs. “If only! Please, my Lord, let’s join the others below decks. I will explain everything.”</p><p></p><p>And so it is that our heroes end up in the hold of what was once a cargo ship. Captain Clifford explains that he and his wife, Theresa, bought the barge some time ago and converted it into a passenger ship of sorts. The cargo hold, still one big space, has been made into a dormitory, with two rows of hammocks at right angles to either side of a central aisle running the length of the hold. At the back, a wall closes off the stern. A door in it likely leads to a galley and the captain’s cabin. The place is utterly spotless.</p><p>“We make a modest living transporting pilgrims in the summer,” captain Clifford explains, not without pride. “As a matter of fact, we just delivered some of here the other day!”</p><p>“Well, not anymore,” Navarre says bluntly. “Consider your barge commandeered, Sir. In the name of the King, I…”</p><p>“Lord!,” captain Clifford interrupts. “You wish to hire my barge? We sail for Big Beach in the morning!”</p><p>“How much?,” Sir Suvali asks, before Navarre can react.</p><p>A price is settled and it seems that our heroes have booked passage for four days.</p><p>“This is half,” Sir Suvali says, handing the captain some coins. “You’ll get the rest when we get there.”</p><p>Then Theresa appears, carrying a tray with a large, steaming pot of tea and some cups and saucers. She puts everything on a table and starts pouring the tea.</p><p>“Anyone for some herbal tea?,” she asks. “Dear, oh dear! The things you young men have been through! There we are, some tea will soothe and calm the nerves. Now don’t be shy! Drink up, all of you!”</p><p>“Not me,” Navarre says, downing another gin and gesturing captain Clifford for a refill. “What of the events of tonight? See any strange soldiers? Lots of them?”</p><p>“Can’t say we did,” captain Clifford says, pouring him another gin. “Of course, we noticed that something was wrong when people started shouting and we saw flames on the horizon.”</p><p>“And then what did you do?”</p><p>“We weighed anchor,” captain Clifford replies. “Get some distance between us and the shore if you know what I mean. It’s a good thing we did or you’d have been in a lot more trouble.”</p><p>“Indeed,” Navarre says wryly.</p><p>“It’s the thing to do to avoid trouble ashore,” Sir Oengus says. “Standard practice.”</p><p>After some more of this, Sir Oerknal nudges Navarre.</p><p>“Let’s stick to the story here,” he whispers under his voice.</p><p>“Excuse me?,” Navarre says.</p><p>“Well,” Sir Oerknal says. “Who are these people? Who says they’re not a part of this whole thing?”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Navarre says. “Then why aren’t they at the island? Would you let them leave with your men still on the island?”</p><p>“Hmm…,” Sir Oerknal says.</p><p>Deciding that the whole thing has taken long enough, Navarre gets to his feet.</p><p>“Gentlemen, if I may!,” he yells. “Gentlemen! Order, please! May I suggest the time has come to discuss a plan of action? I do not believe I am exaggerating when I say that we seem to be in a spot of bother. Would anyone care to speak?”</p><p>A lively conversation ensues, in which many things are said. Of note would be that Sir Suvali insists that the soldiers were not human but something he calls “humanoids”, which Navarre has a hard time believing since he doesn’t even know what his noble fellow means by that. Another interesting notion would be Sir Oerknal’s suggestion that either Duke Mim or Duke Blurh is behind the attack, an idea that had also occurred to some of the others.</p><p>“Perhaps not Mim,” Navarre muses, downing another gin. “He wouldn’t have the finances to pull this off and his absence from the public eye has become quite the tradition, if anything. Come to think of it, who <em>would</em> be able to gather as many as five hundred men? These men were not some ruffians. Where would anybody get five hundred trained men from? I admit that this has bothered me ever since this whole thing started.”</p><p>“Which leaves Blurh and his mine,” Sir Suvali says. “He hasn’t been at the Fortnight for three years and he is probably the only one in contact with large numbers of humanoids.”</p><p>“My dear fellow!,” Navarre exclaims. “What is it with you and these ‘humanoids’?”</p><p>“The dogs,” Sir Suvali says. “They reacted to them.”</p><p>“What about the giant?,” Sir Oerknal asks. “Could the dogs have reacted to him?”</p><p>Sir Suvali admits that he hadn’t thought of that. Still, the idea that Blurh might be involved in some way seems to gain traction when Sir Oengus reminds his fellows that it is only a couple of days ago that a military post in Nisibis was attacked.</p><p>“Think about it,” he says. “The Academy was torched before the attack on the island and you need a river to transport the amount of troops we saw. This all points to the Blue River.”</p><p>“Blurh, military post in Nisibis, Military Academy, King’s Island,” Navarre says. “Hmm…”</p><p>“The Blue River connects them all,” Sir Oengus says.</p><p>“That still doesn’t explain where Blurh got his five hundred men from,” Navarre says.</p><p>“Humanoids,” Sir Suvali says.</p><p>“I do declare!,” Navarre cries angrily. “Are you seriously suggesting we were attacked by fairies?”</p><p>Ultimately, when the <em>chevalier,</em> too, seems to have convinced himself that the attack was executed by humanoids, Navarre tires of the whole thing. He gets to his feet again and calls for order. It must be said that he has consumed a considerable amount of gin at this point, somewhat to the detriment of his diction.</p><p>“My Lords!,” he shouts. “Enough of this! We must organize a counterattack, raise an army! Crush the traitorous cowards who assassinated their rightful rulers and protectors! I put it to you that it we are now the Law of the Land!”</p><p>He pours another gin.</p><p>“Therefore,” he continues. “In my capacity as acting Duke Dauberval, I propose that we elect from among our number a new King!”</p><p>He raises his glass.</p><p>“My fellow Dukes!,” he exclaims. “My Lords! I present to you – King Oerknal the First! Gentlemen, the King!”</p><p>Glasses and cups of tea are raised and emptied – to loud laughter and cheers. Now, the <em>chevalier</em> takes the floor.</p><p>“<em>Vive le Roi!,”</em> he cries. <em>“Messieurs!</em> We shall need a navy! I propose to nominate the captain here as… Captain of the King!”</p><p>He raises his cup of tea with a flourish.</p><p>“<em>Mon Capitaine!”</em></p><p>And so Captain Clifford modestly bows his head to the cheers and guffaws of our noble heroes.</p><p></p><p>Some more of this follows. Explanations are sought and plans are made and rejected. After bringing in more tea, Theresa suggests the noble heroes don sets of pilgrim’s clothes, which she presently procures. Navarre will have nothing of it but his noble fellows do indeed exchange their wet garments for pilgrim’s robes. Then, Sir Oengus suggests our noble heroes leave immediately to evade search parties. Navarre argues that it isn’t very likely that search parties will have started looking for them just yet.</p><p>“Securing the island will take time,” he says. “At least the rest of the night and probably most of tomorrow. And even then, how will they know we were even there?”</p><p>Much later, the <em>chevalier</em> proposes to go to the shrine at the Tree of Olm immediately, arguing that our noble heroes should attempt to enlist the aid of the druids stationed there.</p><p>“<em>Mon Capitaine!,”</em> he roars. “Do you have a boat?”</p><p>“I do,” captain Clifford says. “There’s a small launch you could use.”</p><p>Navarre disagrees, suggesting our noble heroes keep a low profile until they have come up with a comprehensive plan of action.</p><p>“<em>Fi!,”</em> the <em>chevalier</em> cries. “Prepare the launch! <em>On départ!”</em></p><p>“Are you mad?,” Navarre yells. “This is not a time for recklessness! Who is to say that these druids are not in league with the traitors? Or that they are all dead? If there’s anything we can say with certainty it is that our enemies are highly organized! There is no telling who and what they have attacked! The place could be swarming with soldiers!”</p><p>“<em>Silence!,”</em> the <em>chevalier</em> cries. “Are you a coward, Sir?”</p><p>“My Lords,” Theresa interjects. “Please. It has been a rough day for all of us! Why don’t we all get a good night’s sleep and speak of this in the morning?”</p><p>“<em>Madame,”</em> the <em>chevalier</em> says frostily. “This a military matter.”</p><p>Tempers flare for a bit until captain Clifford intervenes.</p><p>“My Lord,” he says to the <em>chevalier.</em> “What you propose is impossible.”</p><p>“Explain yourself, Sir!,” the <em>chevalier</em> cries. “And be quick about it!”</p><p>“There are no druids at the shrine, my Lord,” the captain says hurriedly. “They have gone home for the night and will not return until the morning.”</p><p>This seems to bring the agitated <em>chevalier</em> at least some distance back to earth.</p><p>“<em>Zut alors!,”</em> he mutters. “And what might the current hour be?”</p><p>“It’s an hour to dawn, Lord,” Theresa says. “Why don’t we all get some sleep?”</p><p>Navarre doesn’t feel like sleeping at all and declares that he will stand guard on deck until the sun rises. As it turns out, he doesn’t even make it out of the hold.</p><p></p><p>Sir Oerknal is drowning. He is underwater, his armor heavy and pulling him ever further down to a watery death. When he starts trying to work his way up to the surface, he realizes that he cannot move his arms. And why can’t he see? He starts gasping for air, only to find that he can hardly breathe – as if a knot has been tied around his neck. Is there? His brain doesn’t seem to be working at all and he struggles with the idea. He tries to get his hands to his neck and finds that they are being held. <em>Moradin’s Hammer!</em> Something <em>is</em> around his neck and someone is pulling it tighter and tighter!</p><p>Mustering all of his strength, he manages to free one hand and lashes out, weakly hitting someone in the face but not easing the pressure on his neck. Now close to actually suffocating, he starts thrashing about desperately and crashes to the floor. Still the pressure does not diminish. With stars and lights exploding in front of his eyes, he lashes out again and hits someone in the face – again and much more forcefully this time. Someone stifles a curse and there is a stumbling sound. Finally, the pressure seems to diminish.</p><p>Panting and wheezing and still having a hard time getting his mind to work, Sir Oerknal realizes that he is fighting two individuals and that one of them has his hands around his neck.</p><p>“Damn you!,” a man curses under his breath. “Die already!”</p><p>A furious struggle follows, with Sir Oerknal flailing wildly in the dark until he manages to land a serious blow and the hands finally release their grip on his neck. Exhausted and gasping for air, our noble hero tries to gather his wits. After some time, he realizes that he has his eyes closed. He opens them and finds himself on the floor of the cargo hold. Next to him, the bulk of Theresa lies sprawled. Some yards away, the ape-like form of captain Clifford is crawling away from him on hands and knees.</p><p>Sir Oerknal feels a terrible anger rise. He gets to his feet and has to struggle to find his balance, his head spinning. He manages to pick up his double-bladed axe, takes a couple of steps and swings the weapon at the captain – missing him by inches. The captain cries out in surprise, scrambles to his feet and stumbles to the ladder. He is already halfway up to the deck when Sir Oerknal swings his axe at him a second time, missing again and, now, the captain disappears through the trapdoor. Still unsteady on his feet, Sir Oerknal sets after him. When he reaches the deck, a loud splash tells him that the captain has jumped overboard. He scrambles to the prow, to see that the captain is already halfway to the shore. Dawnward, the sun is just peeking over the horizon.</p><p>Cursing loudly and tentatively rubbing his sore neck, our noble hero returns to the hold. His mind still foggy, he starts waking his noble fellows. This turns out to be a lot harder than expected and, in the end, he has to actually punch some of them in the face before they wake up. When everybody is finally awake, most of them with their minds as foggy as Sir Oerknal’s, he explains to his noble fellows what has happened. Amidst cries of anger and indignation, some of our noble heroes start denying loudly that they drank from the tea.</p><p>Navarre, who is the only one who actually didn’t drink from the tea but still doesn’t feel much better than the rest, starts tying up the comatose Theresa. He struggles with this for some time until Sir Suvali appears and takes over.</p><p>“Thanks,” Navarre says. Still a bit weak in the knees, he has a look around the hold to see that the <em>chevalier</em> is already halfway up the ladder to the deck.</p><p>“<em>Messieurs!,”</em> the <em>chevalier</em> cries, when he gets to the trapdoor. <em>“On départ!”</em></p><p>Navarre casts a weary glance at Sir Oerknal. Looks like the creature was the only one to realize that something wasn’t quite right with the murderous maritime couple.</p><p>[ATTACH=full]268702[/ATTACH]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="ilgatto, post: 8847804, member: 86051"] [B][SIZE=5]An Adventure in Five Acts, Act I – The Fortnight (continued)[/SIZE][/B] When he realizes where he is, Navarre finds himself in the water, close to some shore featuring a huge, blackened tree obviously struck by lightning some time ago. He is sinking rapidly, as is the [I]chevalier[/I] – both are wearing metal armor. Fortunately, Navarre finds the water to be only some six feet deep. Some yards away from him is a large barge, where a figure is shining a light at him. “Er, hello?,” a hesitant male voice sounds. “A rope!,” Navarre shouts. “A rope! We’re in armor! A rope! Hurry, man!” Thus, despite the thick layer of slick on the bottom and thanks only to a truly Herculean effort (NWP [I]Endurance)[/I] involving jumps, much holding of breath, frantic paddling, and grabbing of ropes, Navarre manages to get to the barge in his armor, where he is hoisted aboard by Sir Oengus and Sir Oerknal. The [I]chevalier[/I] is not so lucky. Thrashing about wildly, he manages to hit something floating in the water and grabs it. When this turns out to be a corpse, he lets go of it with a startled cry – and starts sinking again. Left with no choice but to get out of his armor, he eventually manages to reach the barge without it, where his noble fellows drag him aboard. The figure with the lantern turns out to be a smallish man built, if anything, like a orangutan, with short legs, a massive chest, and long arms. On his head is a cap that reads “Captain”. He looks at our noble heroes with a startled look on his face. “Erm…,” he stammers, before regaining some of his composure. “My Lords! Captain Clifford. At your service.” “Why, thank you, my good man,” the drenched [I]chevalier[/I] says, shaking the captain’s hand. [I]“Enchanté,[/I] I’m sure.” Navarre, still reeling from the event and not at all in the mood for a conversation, starts taking off his armor and wet clothes. When he is finished, he notices Sir Suvali going through a set of robes and cloaks. The sorcerer retrieves a strange, vest-like garment which he subjects to a short inspection and then dons. Sir Oengus is next to him. “What’s with the long clothes?,” he asks. “The robes of the dear old Rector,” the sorcerer says, nimbly pocketing a silver necklace with an acorn pendant. “Looks like he didn’t survive the ordeal.” Then another individual appears on deck. It is a portly woman with large hair, garish clothes, extraordinary amounts of make-up, and toting a loaded crossbow. In a stark contrast, she has the slim, petite hands and feet of a lady of noble birth. Now, Navarre seriously considers the possibility that he is dreaming. But no, when he looks over his shoulder, he sees Apple Island in the distance, fires burning everywhere. Every now and then, shouts and screams reach him from across the water. What to do now? It seems madness to try and get back to the island – indeed, he and his noble fellows may be the only ones to have survived the event! And what of his father? His mother? His dear sisters? The [I]chevalier[/I] has gallantly introduced himself to the fat woman, who presently lowers the crossbow, smiles bashfully and then invites everybody below decks for a “nice cup of herbal tea”. Navarre decides he is no mood for herbal tea. “I say!,” he calls to captain Clifford. “Captain! How’s about something stronger? It’s been a rough night.” “Certainly, my Lord,” captain Clifford says. “As luck would have it, I just happen to store a fine gin below decks. Just follow me.” “One moment, captain,” Navarre says, pointing to the blackened tree on the shore. “Is that tree the [I]Tree of Olm?”[/I] “It is, my Lord,” captain Clifford says. Navarre throws him an incredulous look. “Surely you don’t mean…?,” he asks. “Ha, ha, ha!,” captain Clifford laughs. “If only! Please, my Lord, let’s join the others below decks. I will explain everything.” And so it is that our heroes end up in the hold of what was once a cargo ship. Captain Clifford explains that he and his wife, Theresa, bought the barge some time ago and converted it into a passenger ship of sorts. The cargo hold, still one big space, has been made into a dormitory, with two rows of hammocks at right angles to either side of a central aisle running the length of the hold. At the back, a wall closes off the stern. A door in it likely leads to a galley and the captain’s cabin. The place is utterly spotless. “We make a modest living transporting pilgrims in the summer,” captain Clifford explains, not without pride. “As a matter of fact, we just delivered some of here the other day!” “Well, not anymore,” Navarre says bluntly. “Consider your barge commandeered, Sir. In the name of the King, I…” “Lord!,” captain Clifford interrupts. “You wish to hire my barge? We sail for Big Beach in the morning!” “How much?,” Sir Suvali asks, before Navarre can react. A price is settled and it seems that our heroes have booked passage for four days. “This is half,” Sir Suvali says, handing the captain some coins. “You’ll get the rest when we get there.” Then Theresa appears, carrying a tray with a large, steaming pot of tea and some cups and saucers. She puts everything on a table and starts pouring the tea. “Anyone for some herbal tea?,” she asks. “Dear, oh dear! The things you young men have been through! There we are, some tea will soothe and calm the nerves. Now don’t be shy! Drink up, all of you!” “Not me,” Navarre says, downing another gin and gesturing captain Clifford for a refill. “What of the events of tonight? See any strange soldiers? Lots of them?” “Can’t say we did,” captain Clifford says, pouring him another gin. “Of course, we noticed that something was wrong when people started shouting and we saw flames on the horizon.” “And then what did you do?” “We weighed anchor,” captain Clifford replies. “Get some distance between us and the shore if you know what I mean. It’s a good thing we did or you’d have been in a lot more trouble.” “Indeed,” Navarre says wryly. “It’s the thing to do to avoid trouble ashore,” Sir Oengus says. “Standard practice.” After some more of this, Sir Oerknal nudges Navarre. “Let’s stick to the story here,” he whispers under his voice. “Excuse me?,” Navarre says. “Well,” Sir Oerknal says. “Who are these people? Who says they’re not a part of this whole thing?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Navarre says. “Then why aren’t they at the island? Would you let them leave with your men still on the island?” “Hmm…,” Sir Oerknal says. Deciding that the whole thing has taken long enough, Navarre gets to his feet. “Gentlemen, if I may!,” he yells. “Gentlemen! Order, please! May I suggest the time has come to discuss a plan of action? I do not believe I am exaggerating when I say that we seem to be in a spot of bother. Would anyone care to speak?” A lively conversation ensues, in which many things are said. Of note would be that Sir Suvali insists that the soldiers were not human but something he calls “humanoids”, which Navarre has a hard time believing since he doesn’t even know what his noble fellow means by that. Another interesting notion would be Sir Oerknal’s suggestion that either Duke Mim or Duke Blurh is behind the attack, an idea that had also occurred to some of the others. “Perhaps not Mim,” Navarre muses, downing another gin. “He wouldn’t have the finances to pull this off and his absence from the public eye has become quite the tradition, if anything. Come to think of it, who [I]would[/I] be able to gather as many as five hundred men? These men were not some ruffians. Where would anybody get five hundred trained men from? I admit that this has bothered me ever since this whole thing started.” “Which leaves Blurh and his mine,” Sir Suvali says. “He hasn’t been at the Fortnight for three years and he is probably the only one in contact with large numbers of humanoids.” “My dear fellow!,” Navarre exclaims. “What is it with you and these ‘humanoids’?” “The dogs,” Sir Suvali says. “They reacted to them.” “What about the giant?,” Sir Oerknal asks. “Could the dogs have reacted to him?” Sir Suvali admits that he hadn’t thought of that. Still, the idea that Blurh might be involved in some way seems to gain traction when Sir Oengus reminds his fellows that it is only a couple of days ago that a military post in Nisibis was attacked. “Think about it,” he says. “The Academy was torched before the attack on the island and you need a river to transport the amount of troops we saw. This all points to the Blue River.” “Blurh, military post in Nisibis, Military Academy, King’s Island,” Navarre says. “Hmm…” “The Blue River connects them all,” Sir Oengus says. “That still doesn’t explain where Blurh got his five hundred men from,” Navarre says. “Humanoids,” Sir Suvali says. “I do declare!,” Navarre cries angrily. “Are you seriously suggesting we were attacked by fairies?” Ultimately, when the [I]chevalier,[/I] too, seems to have convinced himself that the attack was executed by humanoids, Navarre tires of the whole thing. He gets to his feet again and calls for order. It must be said that he has consumed a considerable amount of gin at this point, somewhat to the detriment of his diction. “My Lords!,” he shouts. “Enough of this! We must organize a counterattack, raise an army! Crush the traitorous cowards who assassinated their rightful rulers and protectors! I put it to you that it we are now the Law of the Land!” He pours another gin. “Therefore,” he continues. “In my capacity as acting Duke Dauberval, I propose that we elect from among our number a new King!” He raises his glass. “My fellow Dukes!,” he exclaims. “My Lords! I present to you – King Oerknal the First! Gentlemen, the King!” Glasses and cups of tea are raised and emptied – to loud laughter and cheers. Now, the [I]chevalier[/I] takes the floor. “[I]Vive le Roi!,”[/I] he cries. [I]“Messieurs![/I] We shall need a navy! I propose to nominate the captain here as… Captain of the King!” He raises his cup of tea with a flourish. “[I]Mon Capitaine!”[/I] And so Captain Clifford modestly bows his head to the cheers and guffaws of our noble heroes. Some more of this follows. Explanations are sought and plans are made and rejected. After bringing in more tea, Theresa suggests the noble heroes don sets of pilgrim’s clothes, which she presently procures. Navarre will have nothing of it but his noble fellows do indeed exchange their wet garments for pilgrim’s robes. Then, Sir Oengus suggests our noble heroes leave immediately to evade search parties. Navarre argues that it isn’t very likely that search parties will have started looking for them just yet. “Securing the island will take time,” he says. “At least the rest of the night and probably most of tomorrow. And even then, how will they know we were even there?” Much later, the [I]chevalier[/I] proposes to go to the shrine at the Tree of Olm immediately, arguing that our noble heroes should attempt to enlist the aid of the druids stationed there. “[I]Mon Capitaine!,”[/I] he roars. “Do you have a boat?” “I do,” captain Clifford says. “There’s a small launch you could use.” Navarre disagrees, suggesting our noble heroes keep a low profile until they have come up with a comprehensive plan of action. “[I]Fi!,”[/I] the [I]chevalier[/I] cries. “Prepare the launch! [I]On départ!”[/I] “Are you mad?,” Navarre yells. “This is not a time for recklessness! Who is to say that these druids are not in league with the traitors? Or that they are all dead? If there’s anything we can say with certainty it is that our enemies are highly organized! There is no telling who and what they have attacked! The place could be swarming with soldiers!” “[I]Silence!,”[/I] the [I]chevalier[/I] cries. “Are you a coward, Sir?” “My Lords,” Theresa interjects. “Please. It has been a rough day for all of us! Why don’t we all get a good night’s sleep and speak of this in the morning?” “[I]Madame,”[/I] the [I]chevalier[/I] says frostily. “This a military matter.” Tempers flare for a bit until captain Clifford intervenes. “My Lord,” he says to the [I]chevalier.[/I] “What you propose is impossible.” “Explain yourself, Sir!,” the [I]chevalier[/I] cries. “And be quick about it!” “There are no druids at the shrine, my Lord,” the captain says hurriedly. “They have gone home for the night and will not return until the morning.” This seems to bring the agitated [I]chevalier[/I] at least some distance back to earth. “[I]Zut alors!,”[/I] he mutters. “And what might the current hour be?” “It’s an hour to dawn, Lord,” Theresa says. “Why don’t we all get some sleep?” Navarre doesn’t feel like sleeping at all and declares that he will stand guard on deck until the sun rises. As it turns out, he doesn’t even make it out of the hold. Sir Oerknal is drowning. He is underwater, his armor heavy and pulling him ever further down to a watery death. When he starts trying to work his way up to the surface, he realizes that he cannot move his arms. And why can’t he see? He starts gasping for air, only to find that he can hardly breathe – as if a knot has been tied around his neck. Is there? His brain doesn’t seem to be working at all and he struggles with the idea. He tries to get his hands to his neck and finds that they are being held. [I]Moradin’s Hammer![/I] Something [I]is[/I] around his neck and someone is pulling it tighter and tighter! Mustering all of his strength, he manages to free one hand and lashes out, weakly hitting someone in the face but not easing the pressure on his neck. Now close to actually suffocating, he starts thrashing about desperately and crashes to the floor. Still the pressure does not diminish. With stars and lights exploding in front of his eyes, he lashes out again and hits someone in the face – again and much more forcefully this time. Someone stifles a curse and there is a stumbling sound. Finally, the pressure seems to diminish. Panting and wheezing and still having a hard time getting his mind to work, Sir Oerknal realizes that he is fighting two individuals and that one of them has his hands around his neck. “Damn you!,” a man curses under his breath. “Die already!” A furious struggle follows, with Sir Oerknal flailing wildly in the dark until he manages to land a serious blow and the hands finally release their grip on his neck. Exhausted and gasping for air, our noble hero tries to gather his wits. After some time, he realizes that he has his eyes closed. He opens them and finds himself on the floor of the cargo hold. Next to him, the bulk of Theresa lies sprawled. Some yards away, the ape-like form of captain Clifford is crawling away from him on hands and knees. Sir Oerknal feels a terrible anger rise. He gets to his feet and has to struggle to find his balance, his head spinning. He manages to pick up his double-bladed axe, takes a couple of steps and swings the weapon at the captain – missing him by inches. The captain cries out in surprise, scrambles to his feet and stumbles to the ladder. He is already halfway up to the deck when Sir Oerknal swings his axe at him a second time, missing again and, now, the captain disappears through the trapdoor. Still unsteady on his feet, Sir Oerknal sets after him. When he reaches the deck, a loud splash tells him that the captain has jumped overboard. He scrambles to the prow, to see that the captain is already halfway to the shore. Dawnward, the sun is just peeking over the horizon. Cursing loudly and tentatively rubbing his sore neck, our noble hero returns to the hold. His mind still foggy, he starts waking his noble fellows. This turns out to be a lot harder than expected and, in the end, he has to actually punch some of them in the face before they wake up. When everybody is finally awake, most of them with their minds as foggy as Sir Oerknal’s, he explains to his noble fellows what has happened. Amidst cries of anger and indignation, some of our noble heroes start denying loudly that they drank from the tea. Navarre, who is the only one who actually didn’t drink from the tea but still doesn’t feel much better than the rest, starts tying up the comatose Theresa. He struggles with this for some time until Sir Suvali appears and takes over. “Thanks,” Navarre says. Still a bit weak in the knees, he has a look around the hold to see that the [I]chevalier[/I] is already halfway up the ladder to the deck. “[I]Messieurs!,”[/I] the [I]chevalier[/I] cries, when he gets to the trapdoor. [I]“On départ!”[/I] Navarre casts a weary glance at Sir Oerknal. Looks like the creature was the only one to realize that something wasn’t quite right with the murderous maritime couple. [ATTACH type="full" alt="5A-2-enworld-captaincliffordbarge.png"]268702[/ATTACH] [/QUOTE]
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An Adventure in Five Acts (AD&D 2E) (Final Update 25 Feb 2023)
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