Last Call at Port

Log Info

• Title: Last Call at Port

• GM: Telamon

• Characters: Fidget, Rune, Simony, Tlanexhuani

• Place: Alexandria Docks

• Summary: A lost ship has cruised into port, manned by a crew dead for a hundred years, and absolutely insistent on one last shore leave. Now they've taken over a dock tavern and... well, who's up for a drink?

Alexandria docks, early evening Panicked messages about 'the dead have come to the docks' reached your ears at the Guild, and it's a short run from there to the docks. A small group of people are pointing at a ship that is clearly not long for this world. It looks like it's spent a long time underwater, only recently dredged up again -- the sails ragged, the wood splintered and rotting, but the name still emblazoned in gold on her bow: Fearless. Nearby, the harbor master is sitting on a stool, shaking and pale, holding a bottle in his hands. Seeing you, he beckons with a trembling hand. "It's true," he says, eyes wide. "Every sailor who got off that ship, they were dead. All bones and ragged clothes, led by a captain as dead as they were. Carryin' a big strongbox as they walked off the gangplank." He takes another pull off his bottle. "The captain, he asked me... he asked me..." A long pause, then he says, "...where was a good place nearby for a thirsty crew to get a drink. I tol' him the Drunken Armadillo -- oh gods, I hope I've not put the evil eye on that place!"

<OOC> Simony says, "Would it be knowledge/local to know anything of the Fearless?"
<OOC> Telamon says, "Knowledge/History, actually."
GAME: Simony rolls knowledge/history: (2)+8: 10
GAME: Fidget rolls knowledge/history: (19)+9: 28

Fidget had actually been looking for a drink, she'd had a rough day and they'd gotten through her personal supply of firewhiskey at Rune's party. Those girls could drink! So, she'd wandered while she she went over some of the unsettling incidents that had happened to her lately, until she hears the harbor master's woes. "Oh, really? Neat! Don't worry, I'll go keep them company and make sure they don't wreck the place or anything. I wonder what they drink..." she says, not overly worried about running into some drunken undead - wouldn't be the worst thing that happened to her this week.

The Goblin arrives out of breath, and stops, bending over with her hands on her knees to prop herself up. "And... where... is... the ... Drunken Armadillo?", she says between pants for breath. Straightening up, Simony eyes the Harbor Master, "What can you say of the ship and her crew? I mean... originally? Are we looking at soldiers and marines, or the crew of a cargo vessel?"

Tlanexhuani is attempting to read the board postings when the word arrives. He is not so good with Tradespeak, but far better with spoken words than written. The old blusescale makes his way to the docks, toeclaws clicking on planks between taps of his spear-turned-walking-aid. He stops at the harbormaster, looking from the man, to the soggy ship, and back. He doesn't know the city nor ships, but something does seem a bit off about the man and the ship. "Iss... not normal to leave ship for drink?"

GAME: Fidget rolls knowledge/local: (12)+9: 21
<OOC> Fidget says, "^Tries to remember where the bar is."

Why is it that whenever there is a call to the docks, it's always for some unusual occurance? It can't be because someone brought in a good catch, or that some noble or diplomat or famous person has arrived. No, it's always some sort of weird shenanigans that defy explanations. So, Rune has a smirk on her features as she takes in the ghost ship that is currently docked in the harbor. "Well, sounds like they're a might bit friendlier than the last few undead that I've ran across." That's probably the reason she seems relatively relaxed about the whole thing, at least for the time being. Harkashan would be more concerned. For him, the dead are meant to stay dead, with some exceptions. "If all they're looking for is a drink, they can't be all bad, in my opinion." It's no surprise that where there are shenanigans, there is Fidget. The colorful Goblin did tend to attract those sort of things. "Mind if I join you to check things out?" Since Simony also seems questioning of matters, Rune adds, "I know the way." Then, for Tlanexhuani's sake, she adds, "Not so normal for the sailors to be skeletal in nature, my friend."

The harbor master gives directions, but Rune and Fidget remember the place -- probably for slightly different reasons. It's actually not too far from the docks, and as the group hustles towards the bar, it's clear something's up. People are looking around nervously, which... makes coming TO the tavern a bit surreal. Because from outside, it sounds like there's a full house in there, with a lot of slightly off-key but happy singing. Light can be seen shining from inside lamps, and you're pretty sure at least one group is yelling 'CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!'.

"Hmm, I think the Fearless used to be a privateer ship?" Fidget says, pausing in her walk to remember, she seemed to be going in roughly the right direction for the bar, "They attacked the Charnese, and they all died around a hundred years ago." Fidget blinks, apparently surprised herself that she remembered that. "Sure, you can come along, Rune - I actually need to talk to you about something, when you have a few. I have a Fae problem. But I think it'll be easier to talk about after several drinks." and then with a little smile, she waves at Simony, "Hi! Why you running?"

Simony gives the Harbour Master a wave, "Thanks for your help. We'll see it right, don't you worry. Maybe check your records, perhaps they have some cargo they want to take on?" The Gobbo hurries along with the gaggle of adventurers, and she ohs at Fidget's revelations. "A privateer, pirate hunters! Hmmm, but I wonder why they're here." Fidget's fae concerns draws raised eyebrows from the albino, but the Gobbo lets that slide for now as she sticks her tongue out at the purple-skinned Gobbo. "I was running because I'd heard about a ship of undead sailing into the harbour. It's not a good thing, usually, when the dead come home... ambulatory-like under their own power. Myself being a cleric... this is concerning, so I am here to see... what can be done about it."

Tlanexhuani blinks at the clarification from Rune. Slowly. "Ssa... Not normal." Directions soon follow, though some do not need them. As for the Makari, he has an easier time following Rune and Fidget than the directions. As he starts to follow them, his free claw extends to the wee white winded one. "If tired, this one help?"

"You know, I'm starting to wonder if the Armadillo might just be a beacon for the strange and unusual." Rune smirks. "The place was one of my first stops after coming to Alexandria. Got in a few good punches on some ghosts, at least... I think they were ghosts. Hark threw one out a window." So much has happened since then, despite it not even being a full cycle of seasons. As Fidget talks about a 'Fae' problem, Rune smirks, "Don't we all. I might have several at this point. Let's... figure out whatever is going on with our thirsty visitors first, though." As for Simony's reaction, Rune inclines her head, "If Hark wasn't recovering from his own near-death experience, I'm sure he'd be here, too. Clerics and undead sort of go hand in hand." The atmosphere at the Armadillo, takes Rune back to her teenage years. Enough so that the sounds of drinking calls almost feels like 'home' in a strange way. "Well, let's head in and check it out." So she moves forward to do just that, full house or not.

<OOC> Telamon says, "Alright. To encapsulate the current ambience, use this song: https://youtu.be/c967usVxYq0?si=UayScUvBIIdzXqJL"

The door swings open easily, a blast of noise washing over the quartet, and the scene is laid out in full. The lanterns are lit, and the fireplace is roaring, banishing the cold of autumn trending towards winter. With all the people here, you'd think it'd be hotter, but there is of course a small problem here: most of the customers are dead. Yes, it appears the normal clientele has fled in terror or been chased out. Probably the latter, as a couple of old, crusty looking sailors are stubbornly refusing to leave their corner table no matter who shows up. Two tables have been pushed together to form a makeshift stage, and a couple of girls are showing some dance moves (and a little leg) for a pack of hooting, cheering skeletal sailors. At the bar, another undead pirate has his skull back, fleshless jaws clamped to a bottle that is draining downward as his friends chant, "CHUG! CHUG!" The bartender looks like he can't decide if he's terrified or enthralled, because gold and silver coins are landing in rapid succession on the bar surface. Indeed, the girls dancing are also benefitting from the dead men's largess, judging from the large bucket in front of the stage that's already half-full. At the back, a handful of sailors are lined up in front of another table, evidently getting their pay from what must be the captain -- his tricorner hat worn and his garments as ragged as the rest of them. Next to the captain stands another skeletal sailor, the square jaw and jutting tusks indicative that in life he was of oruch blood. And nobody's noticed you yet, because there's too much drinking and revelry to be had!

<OOC> Telamon says, "Perception checks plz."
GAME: Rune rolls perception: (7)+26: 33
GAME: Fidget rolls perception: (13)+8: 21
GAME: Simony rolls perception: (4)+14: 18
GAME: Tlanexhuani rolls perception: (18)+9: 27

"Wait, aren't Privateers basically just pirates themselves?" Fidget asks Simony as they travel to the bar, and gives Rune a nod of agreement in the 'let's talk about that later' plan. She grins as Simony gets a ride the rest of the way."No fair, you're tall now!" she says all the way up to where Simony sits. Arriving at the bar, Fidget raises her little eyebrows, "So far, they only really seem to be wrecking the drink supply." the goblin comments, stepping inside and considering her next move...for a few seconds, anyways, then she shrugs and heads straight to the bar. Being a teeny person, she then has to climb onto a stool to be seen over the bar, and after a little work, she perches and demands, "Something strong, barkeep! I see you've got lively customers. Or...well, maybe not quite the right word."

The albino gasps at Tlanexhuani, and in a few quick moves, climbs her way up to his shoulder. Where she wraps her arms around his neck, squeezing gently. "I would most appreciate the assistance. How've you been, Tlan? It's been a while, hasn't it?" The way to the Drunken Armadillo is much easier with the a-sith-tance of Tlan, and if given the chance, Simony talks his (and everyone else's) ear off, detailing months of happenings and goings-on that she's participated in. In all of that chatter, Simony pauses and shakes her head. "Much like murder, piracy isn't piracy when backed by the state. In this case, I suspect the Fearless was marauding Charnese ships, given their deaths in Charnese waters?" The Gobbo stares at the scene before them, and though shocked and a little angry at first, the longer she observes the scene, the calmer she gets. Patting Tlan's shoulder, she leans in close to whisper. "Keep an eye out for trouble, but for now, I think everything will be alright. For all the worry one might have here, they /are/ paying well, and the dancing girls and barkeep don't seem too bothered." She eyes the others. "We play it cool for now, yes?"

The addition of a passenger does not seem to bother Tlanexhunai as he follows the leaders to the Armadillo. This is an easier task than following all of Simony's tales, though he does try. There is still an occassional amused hiss or thump of tail amidst the tellings. Then they enter to find drinking skeletons. Her was somewhat warned by Rune, but he once again blinks slowly as he takes it in. "Are ...dead. Trade for drink. Drink. Like alive?" Simony's whispered advice is welcome. "Ssa... What do first?" For lack of any other experience in this tavern (or any other), he follows Fidget to the bar and stands there, looking about.

Stepping into the bar, it is almost as if Rune were seeing a skeletal overlay on just the sort of festivities that her old crew used to fall into when they had a big score. When coin flows freely, so does the alcohol and the debauchery. "Ten gold says that all of this is the result of our enthusiastic skeleton crew having made quite a big score and a need to celebrate." Despite being surrounded by the living remains of sailors, Rune doesn't seem at all out of place. "At least they seem to be paying for their services." The thing that makes her more curious about the whole matter is the connection between these fun-loving dead and Charn. Any enemy of Charn is a friend of Rune's so far as she is concerned. With Fidget moving to speak to the barkeep, Rune gives a brief look towards the two who seem to be in charge, but... she isn't about to earn their ire by interfering until they are done with business. Instead, she moves to join those nearby the dancing girls. "Nothing quite like good drink and beautiful women." She comments to one of the pirates, "Seems you all had quite the score."

The bartender looks at Fidget, then beckons to her. "It's definitely been one of those nights," he hisses under the hubbub. "Mother told me Alexandria was weird, but if I'd known it was this weird, I'd have never taken that job offer from Slab." There's a loud cheer, as a quartet of skeletons come out of the back room carrying a full barrel. "I mean... we're making money hand over fist here, but hells, it'll take us a week or more just to restock." One of the skeletons turns to look at Rune, a weird blue-green light shining in its -- his? -- empty sockets. Then a flicker, as if it blinked. "...Do we know each other?" the sailor asks, sounding a bit unsteady. "Y'look familiar... no, really..." Then one of his mates grabs him by the head and twists it around a full half circle. "C'mon, Cotton, don't be pushy. Y'know the cap'n hates that." The other skeleton peers over Cotton's shoulder as he lets go and Cotton reaches up to twist his skull back. "Sorry miss. We've been at sea workin' for Her Nibs for a hundred years. But... if'n you're curious about that, you should ask the cap'n."

Flicking a gold coin onto the table, "Actually, make that 4 somethings." Fidget points, seemingly at random, at 4 of the bottles by the bar that aren't drained. A clear one, an amber one, a creamy one, and a green one. While they're being poured, she mutters over the sound of the music and the ruckus to summon an Unseen Servant to help her carry drinks back to the others. She finds a space next to Rune and hands over one of the glasses, sips at another, with the other two floating over to Simony and Tlanexhuani. "What's up, Skeleton guy?" Fidget asks, bluntly as ever. "I've never seen someone drink quite like you."

"Oh, okay... umm, first time in a bar?", Simony wonders of Tlanexhuani. "Ask for an ale. It's a gentle alcohol, you can drink a glass without too much trouble, you're a big guy. But just one." She looks around the bar. "Ask the bartender if there are any peanuts." The Gobbo nods to the bartender, "Better to worry about restocking than having to rebuild, yes?" Simony eyes Rune, looking at the undead who speak with her, her ears straining to hear anything useful above the cacophony of celebrating privateers. Then the drink floats into her face and she sniffs at it, before gulping it down immediately. She waves to Fidget, grinning toothily.

"Ssa." The simple word answers Simony's question to Tlanexhuani and acknowledges her advice. His attention is on the drinking skeleton for a long time. "This one not see one drink like thiss..." he agrees with Fidget. He has never seen anyone drink... that was all bones and had nothing to drink it all into. He leans his head nearer her while still watching to ask, "Where does it go?" After this, it's Cotton seeming to recognize Rune that pulls his snout to her. "Know this one?" he now asks Rune, bringing up a claw to point at the skeletal sailor.

"A hundred years?" That seems to align with what Fidget had said earlier about the history of the ship. "No wonder you're all indulging with quite so much enthusiasm. I appreciate it." She smiles warmly enough, even if the strange glowing eye-sockets are a little unsettling. With both a skeleton and Tlanexhuani asking about that 'familiarity', Rune shrugs, "I'm afraid not. Maybe my grandmother, perhaps? She was a full-blood Sil out of the Mythwood. Alas, she's not nearly as lively as you all." It may just be a pick-up line, but Rune reacts normally to it. It's not as if she's looking to get boned tonight. "Oh, it's no worries. I don't mind." She looks from the more serious of the two skeletons and towards the captain. "One of the first things I was taught in the trade, was you don't go poking your nose at the boss while he's handling the gold. Especially if you're a stranger." It did have a tendency to get you dead. "Unless, you might be willing to make an introduction?" As Fidget approaches, Rune accepts the drink, offering a toast to the Goblin. "Everything good at the bar?"

Drinks are poured, and the skeletons at the bar roar in approval as the 'chugger' finishes the bottle, not a drop spilled. There's a slightly reverberating belch from it, despite the lack of lungs (or anything else), and he puts the bottle back on the bartop. "Told you I could down it in one go! Just like the old days!" The ghostly blue-green light in its sockets, like all the others here, turns to Fidget. "Absolutely! They called me Finneas Fire-Water cause I could outdrink even the first mate!" He plunks down a few more gold coins. "Another bottle, suh! I'll try and drink this one slower!" As the bartender looks for a new bottle from his dwindling stock, the skeleton peers at Fidget. "Oy, now -that- is a hat. Is that... yeah, that's your hair! Clever!" The skeleton who rescued Rune (well, figuratively speaking; she rarely needs a real rescue) from Cotton doffs the bandanna off his polished skull. "Krev Silverhair. On account of my hair going gray early... though you'll have to take m'word on it." He glances over where the last crewmate has been paid off. "Well, looks like the cap'n is done paying us off... no better time than now." Krev leads Rune -- if she follows -- to the captain's table, where the first mate and Captain Adonis are speaking now that the dirty work of accounting is done. "Cap'n, this lass would like to talk to you if it's all right." Captain Adonis looks to be in slightly better shape than his crew. Slightly. Lank locks of blond hair still cling to his bony scalp, and his skull face has the same blue green light in the sockets as the rest of the crew. Deliberately, he gestures for Rune, and anyone with her, to sit down if they like. "I'm not taking on new crew, if that's the question," he says, clearly expecting -that- inquiry.

The Goblin stares at a few of the skeletal drinkers. "I don't know.", she replies to Tlanexhuani. "We should ask the crew... or maybe the captain." Her gaze goes to Rune, who may or may not be meeting the man himself. "We should go with Rune, and see what's up, yes?" Simony pats Tlanexhuani on the shoulder, before glancing back to the barkeep. "Good luck sir, keep up the good work. Glad t'see you're making out well!" "Thanks for th'drink Fidgy!", the albino calls out, leaning against Tlan's head from her perch on his shoulder.

Tlanexhuani leaves any bottle floated his way at the bar for know. "Go with Rune, ssa," he agrees with Simony. "Hundred years long time work without rest," he muses aloud that mention to none in particular as he steps his way towards the captain. For Simony and Rune's benefit, of course. He hopes.

Rune seems to have the captain thing handled, so Fidget decides to hang out with the crew. "So, I heard rumour some Charnites sunk you a hundred years ago, but clearly, you're still around - did you kill them back?" Fidget asks, curious, and then offers to trade what's her drink for what just arrived, still mostly full, "Lemme try that!" she says, offering to try to chug it, with a grin at the crewman. "There's noone who can drink like a goblin."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Krev." Rune inclines her head, dyed locks of hair falling forward across her brow in the process. "I've known a few with a similar affect. I'm sure it was very handsome." With information that the captain may be done handling coin, Rune follows, taking a moment to motion the others along with. This is their best chance of asking questions of the man in charge. "While I'm sure I'd make a fine addition, unfortunately my fate is already tied elsewhere." Rune explains, "I was just hoping to have a word. Find out more about you and your crew." She casts a look around from this vantage point, taking in the revalrie of the pirates. "I'm sure you're aware that your arrival has... raised a few eyebrows." She pulls a chair over to sit down on it. "I've heard your ship once targeted those from Charn? Is that where this impressive score came from? If so... I'd love to buy you a drink, myself." To say that Rune does not care for the Charneth, is an understatement.

Finnean makes a 'pfah' sound, like he's trying to spit. "Aye. Wait -- we're dead?" He whirls, and grabs his mate. "Caloth, did you know we were dead?" Caloth mock grabs Finnean's arms in turn. "No! I just thought we were skinny from short rations!" Finnean turns back to Fidget, and nods sagely. "Sorry, a little joke there. Yes, they sank us. We took three ships of the line with us, but the Charneth filth wanted us gone, and they weren't picky about how they did it." Meanwhile, Captain Adonis is pouring a measure of wine into a tankard. "Aye, lass, I don't think Alexandria expected this. Still, she was a friendly port back in the day, and she'll be so for one more night. Then we'll be gone and out of her hair -- and yours." At the mention of Charn, Adonis knocks back his drink. "Yes and no," he says heavily. "We'd gone a long time without returning to port, and men need to rest and spend hard-earned coin. But we never got the chance -- we'd singed Charn's beards once too often." The skull-face actually looks wry, somehow. "Not every day they throw a fleet to get one annoying privateer. But they did, and that was our end... or so they thought."

GAME: Simony rolls knowledge/religion: (18)+9: 27

Simony's grip on Tlan's shoulder gets stronger and stronger, the Goblin tensing. "Pray, Captain, did Rada intercede on your behalf?", she wonders of Captain Adonis. "You are not normal undead, and certainly... not a normal revenant. Your purpose may not have an end, not for the foreseeable future." She laughs then, clinging to the azure Sith. "Charn must fear the Fearless by now, when they spot her closing in. This is not one score, but a hundred year's worth. Goodness.'

GAME: Fidget rolls fortitude: (1)+5: 6 (EPIC FAIL)

Tlanexhuani listens to the tale of victorious warriors, who died facing their foes. Well, sort of? His own tail flicks in increasing unease with the growing tension on his shoulder.. until Simony laughs. They are not normal dead, or undead (at least in his limited experiece), but are normal sea-goers. From others' words, at least. He is not as quick with words as the others, taking his time to find and form them for the captain. "You fought well. Now you rest... to fight again?"

"Okay, watch this!" Fidget says, and grabs the bottle from the table, to a rousing chant of CHUG CHUG CHUG. Fidget grins confidently at the skeletons across the table, and upends the bottle into her maw, glugging aggressively, she makes it about halfway through the bottle before something goes wrong, a tickle in her throat becomes a cough-burp mid-stream, and potent ale finds every open space to fill, getting in her airway, dripping out around the rim of the bottle, and spraying out her nose, oh it burns! The goblin slams the bottle back down on the table and coughs vigourously, gasping for air.

Rune takes a sip of her own drink, likely taking a moment to discern just what sort of strange beverage Fidget has subjected her to. Then, she replies. "She still is a friendly port, to those who need it." Her head tilts slightly, perhaps reading too much into his words. It feels almost like there is a finality to it. "Everyone deserves a chance to eat, drink, and have fun, so long as the bar gets paid and no one gets hurt, there won't be any issues from us." However, with a confrontation with the Charneth looming on the horizon, Rune can't help but want to pull one more thread. "I'll admit, I don't know what sort of magic keeps you here. That's probably more my friend's expertise than my own." She motions to Simony, who seems to at least have some guess as to the source of their continued existance somewhere other than the sea-bottom. "But I do know that we've got some particularly nasty individuals among the Charneth nobility that we'll be moving against soon. So... if your crew wants one more shot at taking them down a few pegs..." It's an offer that she leaves out there for him to consider.

Finnean roars with approval, as do several of the other skeleton sailors. "That's the spirit!" he bellows, actually banging on Fidget's back -- gently -- to help her clear her throat. "You can't win 'em all, but you never do if you don't try!" "Hear! Hear!" Another rousing chorus of a slightly off-tune and off-color sea shanty fills the tavern. Adonis regards Rune with a slightly sad look. "Alas, while it'd please me to cut the unmentionables off the Charneth -- again -- that's not why we're here. Rozen!" The first mate comes to attention. "Sir!" Adonis looks at him. "Rozen, open the strongbox and fetch the contract." Rozen bends down to open a heavy, iron bound chest, sealed and insulated. Despite time and tides, it's still holding together and still sure, as it opens to reveal a few books and a stack of papers. On top is a yellowed scroll case, which he reverently lifts out and passes to the captain. With a deft movement of bony fingers, Adonis opens the case, sliding out a scroll in creamy parchment. There's something intensely... real about it, as he carefully unrolls the paper. "We died, lass. But I'd sworn to bring my crew to a safe port. And when we found ourselves in the Halls, I begged the Lady Herself, the Gatherer of Souls, Vardama, to not make me an oath-breaker. And so she put us to work." The scroll unrolls to show an intricate contract, written in a clear hand, readable by anyone -- and signed by Captain Adonis, and by a single, impersonal but very, very recognizable symbol: the scales of the Harpist. "For a hundred years, we've been Her fist, sacking lacedon nests and sinking bone ships. But now... our watch is ending." Adonis looks at Rune with those empty eyesockets. "I'm sorry, lass. If there was any other way..."

"The Grey Lady herself, the Deathsinging Dragon, the Harpist herself... Vardama.", the Goblin says, with reverence clear in her voice. "Then you have done fine work, Captain, and Alexandria sends her best. Give us your rolls, if you would, and we'll see that your bodies are buried with due care and honor, and your loved ones, their descendants, know of your great deeds, of your good works. I'll do it myself, if needs be." She hops up on Tlanexhuani's shoulder, standing as tall as she can. "Three cheers to th'Fearless an' her crew! HIP HIP HOORAH!"

Now something that Tlanexhuani can readily understand. A pact to serve the Death-singing dragon explains all of the strangeness around these seafarers. His snout lowers as his head dips in genuflection. "You kept word to kin. Served Her against many foes. You deserve much drink, deserve peaceful rest." As he straightens, his tail slaps the floor forcibly in echo of Simony's cheer.

With a few more coughs, Fidget clears the remaining fortified ale from her lungs, "Whew. That did not go to plan!" She laughs, and wobbles a little in her seat, that was strong stuff. She overhears the discussion of the contract, "That's bullshit!" she exclaims, "A hundred years of service? She owes you at least a year in exchange, or even a whole resurrection. A hundred years is a hell of a long time."

There is some measure of confusion written on Rune's features as the contract is produced, enough to draw a more somber attitude. What is written upon the parchment is also what ties these men to life here. Life, or unlife, that seems to be nearly done. "Ahh. It's a shame then, that my mate couldn't meet you. As he is a cleric of the Deathsinging dragon." And yet, there is Simony who is able to offer much that Rune knows he might have offered to them. "It's a shame you can't fight with us, but I'll carry that fight onward in your names." Rune offers, then... seems to hesitate. "I know it isn't much, but my mother was a keeper of stories, and I learned to scribe them when I was young. If you, or any of your crew wish to have your story recorded and told... I can make sure that we do that before the night ends." Living on in song and story is a sort of immortality, and all that Rune can offer as thanks for their long service.

"That's all we can ask, lass." Captain Adonis touches a lock of his hair, looking at it a bit sadly. "But it's the nature of things. And we were still able to do some good, even after our passing. After all, all we had was time." The party continues into the wee hours of the morning. Even the bartender is nodding at the end, his stock depleted, but he'll be able to afford to replenish it. The girls are curled up in the back, sound asleep and with more money than they'd see in a year -- even after taxes. Finally, Adonis tilts his head, and then nods to Rozen. One by one, the dead sailors are prodded, poked, and encouraged to get moving. "Come on, you lot. We've got one last trip to make." The crew clatter back down the road to the docks, bearing their strongbox (much lighter now), to find that... the Fearless has finally succumbed. There's a small outcry from the crew, as the last vestiges of the faithful ship crumble away in the harbor. Adonis raises his hand. "Hold fast, lads! Our story, and the story of Fearless, be done for now. But we're not abandoned." There's a twinkle in those empty sockets. "She keeps her bargains, y'see." And suddenly, gliding out of the gloom, is a -ship-. Painted in the hues of basalt and sand, flying only the flag of the Harpist at her mast. Smoothly, it glides to the dark where the Fearless had fallen to ruin at last, coming to a stop.

<OOC> Telamon says, "Also, you may make Know/Religion or Know/The Planes checks to ID the new ship's crew."
GAME: Simony rolls knowledge/religion: (15)+9: 24
GAME: Rune rolls knowledge/the planes: (9)+6: 15
GAME: Fidget rolls knowledge/the planes: (17)+15: 32

From the pouch at her belt, the Goblin pulls out a notebook and pencil. "I'll assist you in that, Rune. It is only proper that we remember them, and see that others know of their story. We can write the Tribune. Maybe..." She giggles brightly. "Maybe the Crimson Pen can write a few saucy tales of their exploits too!" At the dockside, she too offers her upset at the final moments of the Fearless, and then gasps, and cheers, as the new ship glides into view. "Now that's privateerin' in style!", she calls out. "Another cheer for the Fearless and her crew! HIP HIP HOORAH!"

"Best of luck boys, you go now to the Grey Halls! From there, to paradise. Your penance is done, and now your deserved rest. It was an honour to spend your last night here on Ea together!" Throughout the night, Rune sits with Simony at a table and takes all comers from the crew who wish their stories recorded. Names, how they died, what battles they fought, and their most heroic and dastardly deeds: good, bad, or saucy. Whatever they wish to tell her, she records. However, by the early hours of morning, it is obvious that the half-sil is exhausted, with deep circles beneath her eyes. Still, as the crew moves to depart, she accompanies them as far as the docks, hoping to witness enough to write a proper ending to their story. One that seems to have a fitting ending, afterall. She looks over at Simony, offering the cleric a small smile, even if there is a touch of sadness in her eyes. For now, Rune is silent. A witness to the final lines of a story.

The gangplank lowers smoothly, and a strange creature steps down it. Dressed in a white silk dress, the contours are clearly female -- but her hands are skeletal, her head a skull crowned with curling red hair. Captain Adonis comes to attention as she approaches, and the psychopomp says in a throaty contralto, "Are your crew accounted for, Captain Adonis?" "They are, my lady. Permission to board?" Adonis glances back at the ranks of the crew, clearly happy to finally be going home. "Permission granted, Adonis Albatar. Come home." The psychopomp steps aside, and the crew begin to climb on board. As each steps aboard, a change occurs with each one -- the skeletal, fearsome countenance fades, replaced by their true appearance -- looking as though they were not dead at all, save for a faint transparency about them. Adonis is the last, and he turns to the heroes. "Take the chest, and donate what's there to the temples. I imagine the Mourners will -love- to have the journals, if nothing else." With that, the former captain walks up the gangplank, shedding his bones for spirit, transformed into a blond man with a devil-may-care look and a sparkle in his eye. "Safe travels!" he calls, before tossing his hat off the boat -- where it lands on the chest. The gangplank comes up, and smoothly, the ship glides away... vanishing into the gloom and fog. Carrying the crew of the Fearless off to the Halls, and the undiscovered country.