The Wormwood Mutiny

Log Post 06

Drew some stuff .

KF: Aboard The Coral Raider: Part 2

“I see yer awake, Kid. Get to yer feet!” The man remained still in the doorway, the angle of the light highlighting the deep grooves of his face. Keane stood to his feet, putting up with the pain, knowing that now was not the time to disobey orders. “Ya’ killed three of my men. I’ve killed men for lot less. Why should I keep you ’live?”

Keane opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of a single reason.

“What‽ Nothing‽” The man took a step forward, moving his hand to the hilt of his sword. Keane took a defensive stance, not sure what the man was going to do next. “Do you want to die, Kid?”

Keane shook his head, “No,” keeping a stern eye on the weathered man.

“Use words, Kid! Do you want to die‽”

“No,” replied the young Keane. There was a fierce calmness on the surface of his voice, but under that, fear.

The man released his grip on his weapon. “That’s why I’m not gonna kill ya.” The man took another step forward. “I’m Cap’n Savelad. This is my ship, the Coral Raider. When yer on my ship, you best listen to my orders or you will find yerself off my ship an’ swimmin’ fer land.” Savelad turned to the door and began to leave. “Ther’ll be a call fer food in a couple hours. Rest up now, ’cause tonight you sleep with the crew.” That’s when he left, leaving the door open.

Keane was left alone in the room, not sure if he was a prisoner or a guest. For the next few hours, he sat in solitude. He was left there with his thoughts and the sounds of creaking wood and muffled voices from the deck. The pain was still bad, but he had no idea of Savelad’s intentions. As promised, food was announced a few hours later. Upon hearing the call, he did realize that it had been a while since he had eaten. Almost reluctantly, he did leave the room. It hurt more to stand this time than last. The threatening voice of the Captain almost certainly had something to do with his previous lack of hesitation.

As he made it to the deck, it didn’t seem a whole lot different from the ship he was just on. The only difference was that everyone was potentially armed, and may not be beyond killing him for any number of reasons. Holding a bowl up to the galley workers, he was spooned a ladle of some kind of soup, and upon tasting it, he realized that even the food was pretty much the same. Although, this wasn’t too surprising, considering that the food on this ship was almost certainly taken from the last one.

Before he could find a place to eat his meal, another member of the crew, a brute of a man, swiped Keane’s bowl, and gulped it down. “Thanks, brat,” he said, following his words with a loud belch and throwing the bowl on the deck before the boy. Keane immediately saw a hook, and contemplated gutting the man right there on the deck, but he understood the possible consequences of doing so. He looked to the helm, and caught sight of Savelad watching him. Most likely, he witnessed the whole thing.

That night didn’t go any better. The same goon made him sleep on the floor. The scent of worn boots wasn’t even that bad compared to the moist floor and the rats that would scurry over his body every now and then. After a long night, morning finally came. And punishment from the pirate didn’t stop. At the next meal, the man once again stole Keane’s meal. As the boy brooded in frustration, he felt someone pull him from behind. It was Savelad. “What’re you doin’ Kid‽ Yer never gonna eat if he keeps takin’ yer food!”

“I know that,” said Keane. “But I ain’t gettin’ thrown off this ship.”

“The weak don’t survive, Kid. If you don’t eat, you ain’t gonna survive. If you wanna make it anywhere, ya gotta be strong, even if it means takin’ advantage of the weak. That’s why he’s gettin’ fed and yer not.” Savelad faced and pointed to the stern. “Seems that yer done eatin’, you can take point up there and watch the crew. You ain’t much use to me ’til you can work.” Keane thought there for a second to think about what the Captain said, until his thoughts were interrupted with a sharp “Move it!” That’s when he made it to the stern with haste.

The day went by, and mealtime came, once more. He waited in line for his food, and made his way back to the stern. Before too long, he saw the same sailor approaching him. He reached out his right hand and started, “I’ll take yer…” Before the man could finish speaking, he found himself hollering in pain from the shivered plank that young Keane had pierced through his hand. Kean then grabbed the cargo hook, and ripped it into the man’s leg, pulling him to the ground. Releasing the hook, he grabbed one more splintered board, stepped on the wounded man’s chest, and prepared to drive the plank through the man’s neck.

“Get off ’em!” shouted a familiar voice. Savelad had a sword drawn, and a crowd had formed around the scuffle. “You!” looking to the bully pirate, “Get outta here!” The injured man began to crawl away before another two sailors helped him up. “And you!” looking towards Keane. I don’ care how you make yer place on this ship, but you never kill any of me crew, again! Not as long as yer one of ’em! Understand‽"

“Aye,” he replied. This time, the fear in his voice was harder to hide. Savelad quickly left, and the crew mostly carried on as if nothing had happened. The night came to an end, and this time, Keane slept as well as any other crew member. The next day was much like the last, just with less conflict.

Sometime during the day, about the time the sun was at its highest, Captain Savelad approached Keane, who was once again positioned near the stern. “We’re due for land in a few days. Yer free t’leave when we hit port. Or stay, if that’s what ya want. Until then, keep watchin’ the crew do their jobs. If yer not gonna be able to work, you best least learn somethin’.” He didn’t wait for a reply. He just walked away.

Keane thought he’d be glad to get off this ship, but he wasn’t exactly sure where he’d go from here. Over the past couple of days, he had built as much of a life on this ship as he had anywhere else. And there was something about the ship and its Captain that made him want to stay. Which he couldn’t explain, because he had never met anyone who put as much fear into him the Savelad. Either way, it looks like he at least knew if he were a prisoner. But he still had no answer to why the Captain spared his life. Was is compassion? No, he doubted that. But the Captain always seems to have a reason for his actions. Staying aboard might be the only way to get any more answers.

KF: Running Away from Home

The night was dark, the air chilly; the streets smelled of filth. There were no lanterns lit on the streets tonight, only a dim light coming from the occasional dwelling and and the shining lighthouse near the docks. That, along with what the night sky provided was just enough illumination to see where Keane was going as he hiked through town.

The eleven-year-old runaway was still spattered with blood from the events that happened only hours ago. He thought that maybe killing the man would make him feel different, like that his life might change, but that was not the case. Nothing felt different at all. Not now, anyway. But when that chisel made its way through the man’s naked back, he did feel something. Something different, like a burst of energy run from his lungs and flow throughout his body, ending in his bloody hands. It was invigorating. Though it only lasted mere moments. After puncturing the man a few more times, he was brought back to reality. His mother, still disrobed and underneath the limp, bleeding corpse of a client, screamed in a hysterical panic. Hearing voices and a barking dog from the neighboring dwelling, Keane ran.

By this time, though, all pursuit had stopped. He is no longer in a hurry to get anywhere. Except maybe away from this port. After all, there are consequences to murder, and in the morning, people may likely be looking for him once more. He had to get to the docks. It’s not like this town had a very bright future for him, anyway.

For days, Keane hung around the docks, trying to gain passage to anywhere he could. But there were not a lot of ships anchored at the time, and those that were were not looking to have a child join their crews. Finally, a merchant ship came in to port. It was damaged pretty heavily. The crew was light and in low morale. It was clear that a number of them had recently been killed in the attack that made the ship appear as it did. Almost reluctantly, the Captain allowed Keane to join the crew. After all, he needed all the help he could get, and all the boy asked for was passage.

Log Post 05

I think the best way to sum up the last few days is as such:
Talked to Grok, pig races, boarding exercises, beatings…more beatings, and Logan was attacked (there will be pay back for this).

Log Post 04

Things happened and then this was thought about but didn’t actually occur.

Had a talk with Fish Guts today, which didn’t end so well… Ends up he was a restaurant cook who became indebted to the captain. This basically turned into indentured servitude. There was this massive storm in which the gnome went over board, and I tried to save him on the back of a dolhin but in the end Logan made it to him first. Logan, like Zzyzx is obviously not human and I find it sort of funny that they act like this isn’t noticeable. there was a race in which I bet on Logan but Zzyzx won. We have spotted land but won’t be landing due to the fact the area is infested by dinosaurs and Kavva. The lot of us were sent to a reef to do some hunting and got some very good meat from these lobster-crab monsters. The captain seemed to appreciate it enough to give us back our gear.

KF: Aboard The Coral Raider: Part 1

Keane awoke in a gently-rocking room, dimly lit by the sun, making its way in through the window. The smell of salty air and the sound of creaking wood only confirmed he was still at sea. Suddenly, he felt pain. His legs ached as his arms and chest stung, and his hands and face burned. He rested his eyes down to his body to see red-stained bandages. That’s when he remembered. This was not the ship he boarded at port. He had a feeling he knew where he was. What he wasn’t sure about was why he was still alive.

The last thing he was able to recall could have been days ago. There’s no way to tell. He was standing in smoke on the deck of a merchant ship, his old captain dead on the ground, maybe ten feet from him. Other crew lied scattered around him, dead. The smell of black power and blood almost masked the salty air of the ocean.

The ship was only just attacked, but it all happened in mere minutes. The eleven-year-old sailor had been below deck, repairing regular damage, when he heard the first cannon fire. At that point, he dashed to the closest window, seeing the pirate vessel closing in. Almost immediately, the invading crew had come aboard, swords drawn. These were veteran raiders. Keane grabbed his hammer and ran to the deck. With his hammer, young Keane bashed in the skull of the first man he saw and grabbed his sword. This is where he was noticed.

Keane withdrew up the stairs and up to the helm, being perused by another pirate. This one engaged Keane, cutting at his left arm, and then his left left. He was toying with the kid, but he was reckless. He underestimated the child, and soon Keane’s blade went through his right arm, and the man immediately dropped his weapon. Even with his injury, the man was able to fight off Keane a little, mostly using his size to his advantage. Finally, the lad was able to maneuver his blade around and into the man’s neck. Blood sprayed and Keane held his stance, not even blinking, his hands on the sword and the sword in the flesh. He felt a rush of power, and his eyes widened.

In the corner of his eye, he could see another man aiming his pistol through the smoke. Keane let go of the weapon, and threw himself behind the wheel. The impact of the missile was evident and splintering wood flew in many directions. On his belly, he crawled to the bow of the ship, looking for something to defend himself with. Another gunshot hit even closer than the last. A sudden stinging strike came from his side. He realized that a portion of wooden shrapnel had hit him. He made it to the What he found was a boarding axe.

He made his way to his feet, and two more goons were coming at him. He ran, away from the helm, down the stairs, and back on the man deck, the two men following him all of the way. He turned and threw the boarding axe at one of his pursuers, but the man avoiding the weapon with ease. He ran until he saw his captain, dead on the deck. He grabbed a splintered board from off the ground and prepared to embrace the pirates. The first one hit him with a club, knocking him to the ground. He felt an incredible pain in his chest, but he did not let go of his weapon. He could see the men standing over him. With his right hand, he drove the board into of the pirates’ chest, blood raining on his weakened body. First it went red, then black.

That is the last thing he was able to remember. Now, he is bandaged, lying in a crude cot, still the most comfortable bed he’s had in months, and some how, not dead. Probably. This is where he heard footsteps, loud ones, from someone who must walk with power. They were getting closer, coming from behind that door, the only exit to this room. Keane tried to jump up and prepare to defend himself, but he was too sore. He was unable to move more than a few inches. In his struggling, he managed to tear open at least one of his wounds. He cried in pain, though he tried as hard as he could to muffle to sound. The feet were just outside the door, and the door hinged open, a large man behind it.

He was at least six feet in height. He had tan skin, scarred and marked with ink. His face was formed from detailed lines and prominent bones, almost like a range of mountains and valleys. His eyes were dark and still. He wore his hair up in some kind of careful knot behind his head. He wore simple clothing, all under his long coat and bared three swords at his waist, each of a different size.

KF: Mairenn Fogerty

It was a typical night in Gorm Cuan, a port city of the land. At least three large ships were anchored at the docks. For Mairenn Fogerty, it was a good night for business. She left her modest home, holding the white ruffles of her sky blue dress in her gloved hand, attempting to keep it as far off the filthy ground as she could. She removed a hand mirror from satchel to take one final look at her rouge and auburn hair, making sure she looked her best for her clients. After all, the quality of her company for the night will largely be determined by the quality of her appearance.

The city was lit up and full of life. Just about every building near the docks contributed to the brightening of the normally dark, night sky. Music and laughter and singing could be heard throughout the district. There was no festival scheduled, so either someone of great importance or great wealth must have made port. Mairenn quickly made her way to her usual corner, a look of confidence on her face.

A number of men hollered and waved to her, but tonight, none of them would do. Tonight, she had raised her prices, refusing to go home with the usual scum who make their way through town. After only a short while standing there, she caught sight of a well-dressed man atop a horse. He was wearing a red cape and a large feather grew out of his matching hat. She waved to him, and blew him a kiss off her white kit glove. Her green eyes met his. The connection was as instantaneous as it was short.

Just as they locked eyes, Norah, a rival of Mairenn, shouted, “Hey, Stallion!” She had clearly bought a new, red dress. Her blonde hair and makeup were both very well done. There was no doubt she had recently come into some wealth. The worst of it was that she was only nineteen, almost three years younger than Mairenn. Norah still had her adolescent frame and looks, where as Mairenn had already just began her decline into maturity. There was no chance she could compete with her. The stranger rode up to Norah and helped her up onto his steed before riding back to her sister’s home.

Mairenn was not going to give up. There were still plenty of men around, most of them whom hadn’t seen a women in several weeks. She was going to take a man home tonight, and she was going to get paid well. And it wasn’t long at all before another possible client came into sight. He was a hefty young man in modest garb and a sword at his waist. What caught her eye more than anything was the amount of coin he just sold a box for.

The man walked into the inn, and so followed Mairenn. She took a seat beside him at the counter. She boldly opened the conversation, “How long you been out at sea?” She did so gazing into his eyes and using every flirtateous gesture she knew, from twirling hair to batting her lashes. It wasn’t terribly long before the two of them were on their ways back to her home.

[This is not Tony’s game. Use your imagination.]

The next few months were business as usual. Almost every night she’d go down to the docks, and more often than not, she was successful at bringing home a companion for the night. Until one night, she felt suddenly ill. She had just finished performing a service of her particular profession, and the surly man she had brought home had already fallen asleep. She quickly lept out of bed and rushed to the window, where she began to vomit on the packed earth below.

The next months were hard for Mairenn. Some nights she was able to work, but those grew fewer and fewer as she grew wider around her midsection. It was only a matter of time before she couldn’t work at all. Even when she felt fine, she was still not the ideal candidate for most men seeking a bedding for the night. She found that if she worked for almost nothing, a lot of men didn’t care what she looked like, as long as she had the right plumbing.

Somewhere around nine months after that lively night at the docks, Mairenn gave birth to a baby boy who she named him Keane. It wasn’t too long after his birth when she was able to start working again. Once she’d put her baby to bed, she’d hit the streets, doing what she knew how to do. It may not have been the best life available, but it’s the best way she knew how to make a living.

Log Post 03

Only so many images the site will let me upload so instead I am going to link the pictures from deviant. So you can find the new post right here—→ :D

Promised those guys who I have been making friends with that I would try to buy/trade back some of their gear from the quartermaster Grok, whom I have on good authority loves good rum. She and I had a rather pleasant conversation and in the end I got Keane’s odd sword and my alchemist lab back. We were all charged with cleaning out the bilge room of rats which I wasn’t really any help. I did summon some vipers to help out with the cleaning process, but I am very glad I didn’t go down there. Without my noticing that damned Cat gave a bunch of infected rats to Fish Guts to cook up and serve. In the end half of the crew became sick, luckily none of the officers, I fear what would have happened to me if that hadn’t been the case. Keane, Logan, and Zzyzx shared my turtle soup with me instead of eating the tainted rat stew. There was a fight set up for the officers’ amusement between Keane and “Owlbear”. I got beaten up for trying to help out with the use of magic, which wasn’t even needed because it only took a punch from Keane to lay Owlbear flat.
Mike has layed in your image for you via code.

Prowling the mists for 30 years

From water to rock to land to mist,

such is the course of life.

Fog conceals the truth, confusion becomes the path.

Shadows large and small dwell unseen.

Claws dart from places unseen, not to be seen.

The house stands apart from the camp; ne’er meeting.

For twenty year and ten more, the story continued

until those from beyond were lost and found in the fog.

A wolf howls, silver flashes, and all to dust the metal giant falls.

The mist concealed and revealed many secrets.

He still knows nothing and has seen nothing.


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