Sailing Ether Tides

Sailing Ether Tides

Ch: 6 Boggy, Soggy, Froggy!

Wilf and Rio were sitting at a tavern, investigating the local snackfood scene, while Amy negotiated with the local watch. “Yeah, well he should pick on someone his own size if he expects a fistfight. If I’d cut a few strips of hide off of him would that be better for you gentlemen?” She snapped in their faces. “If he gets trounced by a girl a quarter his size and a third his age, he deserves it!” She wheeled on the muddy, outraged smith and his furious wife, still sputtering and cursing at their own pair of Civic Guards.

“Yeah? Well, come try it again and I will cut you, since that seems to be the preferred option! I’m an Adventurer, journeyman Porky Pie! The badge should have been enough warning!”

“Adventurers are subject to the law too, apprentice!” The sergeant grumbled at her, while his men fingered their truncheons.

“Reach for your stick and you’ll need help pulling it out of its new scabbard, sergeant.” The huge, pug ugly brawler who’d been following them grumbled from nearby. He stepped from the crowd with remarkable ease for a man so wide and large. “Meanin’ I’ll shove it up your bum, wi all respect due yer office, mind ye.” The big geezer spat in his left hand and grinned, as if he might be lubing something up with his fistful lung of mucus soon.

“Daughter August…” The sergeant stammered, as his hands found urgent business, adjusting his cap and collar, far away from his billy club. “Do you know this child?”

“Aye, she’s me little sister… yours too, unless yer suddenly no more an orphan… Brother Farris.” He rumbled, still holding his wet, snotty handful ready to grease any rod or club that might appear. “Now, who’s going to reach for a truncheon? Me lube is drying, ye dinnae wanna receive yer club dry… arse wise.”

When there were no immediate takers for his offer, the old brawler settled back against a nearby tavern wall and made it obvious that he was going nowhere any time soon. “Carry on sergeant Ferris… I’m just here, taking my ease and watching the show…”

“Ooo, I think I like this guy…” Amy cooed at the old man, losing all interest in the Civic Guard. “Can we keep him?”

“No!” Wilf and Rio both shouted from the sidelines, where the snack vendors were circulating freely.

“You two come out as well…” The sergeant grumbled at the revealed boys, in an attempt to reestablish his authority.

“Seriously, you have no idea how easy she went on him…” Rio grumbled at the guardsman as he slouched up.

“Bloody idiots and bullies…” Wilf grumbled and griped at everyone in range, the usually mellow lad simmering with anger. “My brother and I will be taking our sister and heading back to our ship. If you want to annoy us further, seek us out on Esperanza’s Bounty. I will tolerate no further interference with our errands. Step aside or arrest us.” He growled at the guardsmen, all four received his ire, since they had left the smith and his wife to sulk and complain unattended.

He had plenty left over for the two hangers on, the crone and the geezer. “You worthy elders should be ashamed by the outrageous behavior of your neighbors.”

An almost supernatural aura of righteous anger and dissatisfaction radiated in waves from the young man, as though he gazed down on them from the moral high ground… way up beyond the snowline, where the air was thin.

The potency of that enigmatic force carried them out onto the towpath and away into the commons, as the first mist of evening began to rise.

#

“Ghost pirates?” Dannyl shouted, as he ripped a leering specter in half with his buzzing chain whip. He whirled his weapon in a tight circle around his spinning, dancing form. “Or pirate, ghosts?” He asked.

Twelve feet of individually enchanted, living steel and bronze bladed rings orbited around him, as if it were a silken veil, lifted on a gentle breeze. The whole assembly was linked into a whirling occult chainsaw, bound to his soul and powered by his own life energy.

“We aren’t having this discussion again.” Becky called, as a bloated, soggy, drowned ghost deflated around her rapier’s gleaming, deadly point. She booted the sloppy mess of ectoplasm aside and gutted a peglegged haunt that had designs on her brother. All across the deck, slimy, skeletal or shadowy figures were swarming over the railings, down onto Moonrise.

Looming above the little ship, the tall rigging of a four masted schooner of imperial design shimmered in the hazy mist and moonlight. She was tied alongside the smaller ship of the living, bound to her with murky chains and hooks of shadow stuff.

Moonrise’s bell was ringing stridently, calling her crew to arms, even as the watch battled for control of the deck. Becky swept her yard long wand of hawthorn across one shade, ripping his essence to shreds with the long, wicked thorn at the tip.

Her sword danced across the ghostly, but still dangerous weapons of three more haunts, while that one screamed his final, silent curses at the young priestess.

A moment later, Dannyl’s whip raked through all three from behind shredding them into empty mist.

“Coming down the line Becks!” He shouted, as he took a long slide down the smooth railing, balanced on his heels and propelled by the terrible things his living, thrashing, furious whip was doing to the ghosts along the gunwales.

A small, beautiful blonde woman with a pixie cut, wearing nothing but a filmy nightie and a dressing gown leapt from a forward hatch, clinging to the figurehead of a splendid stag, with the full, radiant moon caught in his antlers.

Balanced on the railing above the open water, she aimed a short wand of pale wood at a mass of shades shambing her way and whispered an ear bending nonword:

“ᣲᙯ⭆ᙪᙵ!”

A silent explosion of glittering sparks erupted in the mass of haunts, flinging them about in a spiritual blast that didn’t mar the deck, or even flutter the nearby ropes. Nearly invisible spectral flames swept the deck, igniting one spirit after another, sending them leaping over the side as their ectoplasm boiled away.

Flaming shadows and sparking, glittering ghosts ran wildly across the deck bringing even more insubstantial chaos and havoc into their own numbers.

“Nice one, Ivy!” The small ginger tornado inside a whirling chain whip shouted to his sister.

Becky frowned at her and raised her wand as well. “ᣈᣐᙣᙙ⭀ᙎᙬᣢ”

Whatever she said into the foggy night, it caused a soft glow to erupt from within every disembodied soul for a hundred yards around. Every sneaking spook in the rigging, each haunt that was trying to slip below decks in the chaos, all of the raiding shades on deck lit up in a cool, pearly glow that was unmistakable.

“It doesn’t have to be flashy, Ives.”

“ᣭᙵᘿᘷᘽᘻ!”

She snapped in reply, which set the ghost ship ablaze, in flickering waves of insubstantial fire, along with her crew, still swarming the decks of the haunted man of war. “I like flashy things.”

She said with a smile, while slapping a ghost across the face, while whispering a single syllable. “ᢲ⭂”

The gaunt, reaching form of glowing green sargassum and human bones paused, as if reconsidering snatching up the tiny woman, and then exploded with a soft, wet *plop*.

“Gahha! It’s in my hair! Ghost spooge in my hair!” Everything after that became ghostly shrieks and pleas for mercy on their souls, to the terrible little woman who was murdering her way through the shades with extreme prejudice.

At the end, Ivy held the slimy, half rotten form of Sleeshinshi, the squid lich in her fist and pummeled it into a wet, reeking stain on the aft deck with her bare hands. “Filthy undead sack of shite! How’s eternal life ruling the haunted sea doing for you?”

The gasping, bubbling wreck couldn’t understand her, or even truly die until properly cleansed… Its undying, undead existence sustained the wretch while Ivy took out her frustrations.

Becky sighed and began drawing a complex chalk circle on a deck hatch while whispering soft incantations into the rising mist.

“Just like old times…” Tallum mumbled quietly, as he slowly pulled his raging wife away from the mess of battered tentacles lying on the deck. The giant smith hugged her up into his arms, while she kicked and struggled to get back at her squishy foe. “Ivy… you smell awful right now. Please stop getting it everywhere.”

While that was unfolding, Dannyl scooped the sloppy mess of way overripe seafood into a bucket and clamped a lid down. “Ready when you are Becks.”

She nodded without interrupting her solemn chant, she did pick up the volume though.

“...under the light of Marduk, Keeper of the Flame, Lord of mankind’s wit, wisdom and lore, I call to the Devourer of Souls…” Becky’s wand scratched a shallow scratch on her forearm, drawing a thin line of blood from her dark skin. She colected a bead of red life giving liquid on the thorn of her wand and finished her occult sigil with an exhausted sigh.

“ᘿᣲᣈᣑ⭄.”

At her whispered not-exactly-a-word, a rift into… appeared in the deck hatch, its shimmering unlight, uncannily darkening the local area with…? something, something… eldritch power, was the best way to describe it.

“Ooh, that’s extra spooky!” Dannyl shouted into the invisible, unfelt, unheard tempest raging out of his scrawny sister’s portal into neverwhen and otherwhere.

“Just dump that loser, bucket and all. Gods and spirits know, we’ll be scrubbing that stink out of enough stuff.” She called out.

Her ginger brother winked and gave the lidded bucket of sloppy, stinking, boneless, cephalo-dead a healthy slam dunk.

Pitching the rancid lord of rotten calamari into the swirling butthole of the universe felt good; even though the Devourer was the gentlest, kindest eldritch force of the universe he’d ever met. They simply existed beyond true time, space or reality, taking in souls and fragments of souls.

No ‘devouring’ went on at all, despite the being’s ominous name and appearance. Existing eternally as an ever shifting nebula of swirling, chaotic soul fragments in transit was bound to make social interactions awkward.

They only took in, cleansed and returned mortal souls to where they belonged, once more firmly alive in a material world. The energies produced by this process sustained the being and the underpinnings of every universe of living beings, everywhen.

No one was going to name the genderless, incomprehensible, ultimate death god of all living beings, ‘Braxton’, ‘Terri’, or ‘Andi’.

Existential and eldritch musings aside, the tentacled, would be master of the Shallow Sea was sailing off to his next port of call. It was a one way ticket to a nice, clean rebirth, somewhen and somewhere in the multiverse.

The universe as a whole had a very utilitarian, ‘well that sucked, let’s try again’ and ‘do better next time’ attitude to mortals being jerks to each other. Likewise, retribution, punishment and vengeance were completely alien to the eldritch being that lurked beneath all creation.

Existing in a timeless, matterless continuum of eternal NOW should have made it unable to perceive or interact with mortals, even as a concept. Certainly, recognizing an individual among the literally endless morass of mortal life was beyond improbable, and rapidly approaching absolute impossibility.

“I know, buddy… It’s been a while. I’ll swing by soon. See ya then.” Dannyl whispered to a single strand of nebulae gasses that stretched up to caress the edge of physical reality, as if reaching out to the small, wiry, redhead standing over the portal.

He gave a smile and a wiggle fingered wave to the portal and its unguessable denizen, before swiping his toe through the chalk lines, disrupting the ritual.

“And I’m spooky?” Becky demanded archly of her brother. “Devourer never remembers me…” She grumbled softly, as she flipped her hood up to hide her blush of embarrassment. “We’re behind schedule… Scuttle this spectral garbage scow please Ivy; it’s a danger to shipping.” With that, she strolled down the rail, severing the spiritual and haunted bindings linking the two ships. Her wand and sword both parted the bonds with effortless slashes, her flickering magical tools unerringly finding and severing even the occult shadow grapples below the water line.

“Sqidwad must have spent decades enchanting this slimy wreck, it’ll hang around and attract another haunt if we don’t cleanse it…” Tallum complained. “You know what he’d say…”

“Shut up about ‘spiritual hygiene’!” She grumbled. “I don’t wanna tow this filthy scow halfway across the South Shallow Sea!”

“It’s our prize… we sail it in with pride…” Ivy said firmly, eyeing the classic tattered sails, decks awash in seaweed and slimy algae of the ghost ship. Under all that, it was a sturdy vessel and had been crewed by professional sailors… Dead ones, bound to the will of a mad, murderous squid necromancer, but diligent and skilled sailors. It was pretty shipshape below decks too, most areas were even lacking the omnipresent coating of slime and seaweed.

Several of the cargo holds and compartments were filled with extra seaweed, while others held brass, hand cranked pump sprayers and big sacks of instant algae fertilizer.

‘Grotto Glow Algae Booster’ The bag declared in bold type. ‘Now formulated for ten percent greater luminosity! Haunt with the big boys, on a budget!’

“Can you read that?” Dannyl asked, holding up an almost empty sack.

“Nope! Not at all.” Becky lied, even though it burned her mouth like spicy vindaloo razor blades with extra broken glass; some truths needed to stay buried… for now.

“I’ll keep one and show it to Gary…” The young man said with a grin.

“Don’t you dare… Shai wanted to skin you alive after you gave him that suit of possessed armor!” Becky scolded him, while helping get the big ship under tow.

“Come on, he loves this kind of stuff!” He complained. “Remember the haunted chamberpot? Classic Gary…”

“That wasn’t a chamberpot!” She sighed. “And it wasn’t supposed to go that way… originally… He felt bad afterwards! That ghost was just awful… The things he said about me and Amy…”

“That’s what made it funny… imprisoning the shade of ‘duke Khang the slaver lord’ in the back toilet of the pensioner’s men’s room for one thousand flushes is just poetic…” Dannyl grumbled.

“No, it’s gross and evil and most of the pantheon aside from Ward and the dryads are still in shock. Running off to stay with Liam and Tawny won’t change that.” Becky had grumbles too.

“He tried to poison his entire ‘harem’ of little girls, when the knights justicar closed in… wanted to ‘take them with him’. Screw that guy and I hope he sees naught but wrinkled ballbags till he hears his final flush.” Danyl hopped up to the helm and took the wheel of their derelict prize. “Let’s get this thing in port and get her cleaned off.”

#

The young trio of Adventurers debriefed Esperanza as honestly as they could on the day’s debacles and turned in early, promising to stay aboard til dawn.

The exhausted kids were as good as their word, especially Amy, whose storage gift had been pushed to its limit and a little beyond. Using her magical bracers to block and return Hiram’s attack had nearly put her to sleep from Mana deficit.

Bracers of the Undaunted Princess, enchanted bracers, etheric and spiritual enchantments. This armor is part of a set: Regalia of the Pirate Queen. Etheric and spiritual enchantments. Rarity, unique. Rank, unranked. Elemental affinities: Earth, Air, Light.

Effect, Rock of Aegis: Hostile energies which are proactively blocked, deflected, or impacted on this armor piece may be rendered temporarily inert and stored for future use.

Hostile physical attacks and, or effects proactively blocked, deflected or impacted on this armor piece may be absorbed and retained for weilder’s use. Scales against: Rank, Might, Will, Resilience, Agility, Animus.

Energetic effects: kinetic, elemental, magical or spiritual, may be stored until those energies are released at wielder’s discretion. Effects may be discharged through either bracer at wielder’s command, stored energies and effects will gradually be consumed if held for a prolonged period. Consumed energies will repair and replenish this armor piece and all related gear.

Caution: effects discharged through bracers may be: Unstable, dangerous, unclean, destructive, violent, concussive, percussive, obstructive, corrosive, toxic, intoxicating. No more than one effect may be stored at any time.

“Showing that off isn’t smart, Amy.” Rio complained softly when they were all piled in Wilf’s bunk together. “That’s the kind of thing that could save your life one day… or not.”

“Yeah, I know… he just steamed my buns. At least he’s not a swarm of ‘piders.” She giggled sweetly.

“I don’t think it’s funny…” Wilf muttered, as he rolled to the side to conceal his grin.

#

Morning flew in with the raucous cries of gulls, right outside their shore side porthole. The three kids changed out of their Pj’s quickly and clambered out the hatchway, onto the foredeck, blinking in the bright sunshine.

Two big, brown kelp greenlings and a little, bright blue largemouth perch were skewered, held aloft on slim bamboo fish spears jammed into the pier beside Bounty’s mooring. That was the cause of the gull battle outside their quarters this morning; it was an unsubtle message.

“The smith?” Rio asked quietly.

“Nahh, this is the wife or her cronies… this reeks of bitchcraft.” Amy sighed. “I should have just swatted her into the mud and walked on by…”

“Or, maybe… ignore her entirely?” Wilf offered. “We don’t need to push back on every slight…”

“Mmm… Nope. if they do anything else… it’s on.” Amy muttered, while taking the fish down. She dumped them in a metal pail, clapped the lid on securely and stowed the gull pecked, less than fresh offerings away in her storage gift.

“Those are only gonna get nastier… want me to take ‘em to the waste pit?” Wilf offered hopefully.

“I’m good…” She answered cheerily. “Might need a snack later…” No one believed that for a moment.

The three young sailors washed up after breakfast in the galley and set out into the docklands, looking for a carpenter who would let Wilf rent some shop space, or better yet; a lonely, abandoned lot where they could set up house for a day or two without attracting notice.

Strolling through the bustle and hustle of the docklands, it looked grim all around. Shipwrights and boatyards had little to offer a crafter of musical instruments. Likewise, the place was crowded and fast moving; little would escape public notice and there was little open space to be seen.

Walking the low lying sections of town made a few things clear: this was definitely a human town and people with fur, feathers or scales were unwelcome at best. The beastkin moving around the town were all working menial labor or hustling for bits in ways that were familiar to any member of the Orphan’s League. Fetching and carrying for bits and scraps, doing laundry and moving bulk cargo was about all the otherfolk had going on.

A small squadron of little rabbit boys and girls were skittering about in the crowd, trying to peddle salvaged goods, fish hooks, handicrafts, rags and small wares from shallow baskets to passers by. Each little bit of rag had a half dozen buttons loosely stitched to it, no doubt salvaged from cast off clothes.

There wasn’t much interest in their little collections of bone, shell and wooden buttons, the occasional shopper would pause and look when they made their sing-song pitch, but it was not looking good.

“Buttons, five or six for an iron bit…”

“Matching buttons! Mend your shirt sir? Pins and needles…”

“I have bone pins and needles… Fish hooks and weights, cork bobbers and more…”

A pack of dog and coyote kids were out on the mud flats and mangroves, foraging for water fleas, shrimp, clams and crabs.

Each group had a tagalong elder, following discreetly, watching over the kids as they moved about hustling for coin. In the docklands, most folks ignored or interacted civilly with their furry neighbors; at the edge of the market ward, things were a bit more hostile.

Any furry person who wandered too near the invisible but clearly recognised demarcation line between the docklands and commons and the ever so slightly more affluent market ward was met with the kind of open dicknosery that bigots prefer: Glares, insults and comments, escalating to threats.

That was the point where the Civic Guard would step in and shoo the furry person back into the dock ward slums. They watched the scene play out a few times through the morning, variations on the theme happened regularly. Sometimes it was kids, chasing a ball too near a market stall being scolded and chased off with curses, or a workman who looked like he might have finished whatever menial task, for which they were tolerating his presence. Whatever the cause, any minor disturbance resulted in the nearest non human or less affluent party, quickly finding themselves scooped up and deposited in the docklands by the notably less than civil, Civic Guard.

The few exceptions were those beastfolk in the livery of one house or another… Servants, usually of the lowest rank of course.

At second bell, they checked in with Ranza and drew a comms set from the ship’s stores. “We’re gonna look for someplace to set up… We’ll let you know if we find one.” Amy mumbled unhappily. “This town sucks.”

“Ah, sweet girl… Beastfolk slavery was outlawed here only fifteen years ago, when the new baroness took her seat. Many still resent the loss of their ‘property’... while others are simply arseholes.” Esperanza said softly as she hugged her niece close to her extraordinary bosom.

“We help them best by dealing with them as we would any other folk or kith and making no secret of that.”

“I wanna wreck something…” Amy sniffed, from somwhere in the depths of ruffles and lace.

“Start no trouble that might redound onto those without the power to protect themselves. We will depart in a few days… while they remain here.” Captain Ranza took the pirate princess by her shoulders and pressed her back gently, dragging her unwillingly from the bosomy deep, for a gentle kiss of her dusky forehead. “Follow that compassionate heart, but do not escalate matters here.”

A soft swat to her behind sent her down the gangway to where her brothers waited beside their little boat. Missadventure sailed out into the mangroves of the island of Centre Port, looking for a place to call home, even if just for a few days.

#

“Trade is good… would that we had more chocolate and fresh beef…” Ranza murmured, when Ward’s shadowy bat form alighted in the rigging near her shoulder.

“No luck there… Moonrise was delayed, their ghost ship was surprisingly elusive and crafty. They are sailing with mostly empty holds.” He gave her an upside down, bat fanged kiss on her plump red lips. “I always wanted to try that.” He whispered as he took human form.

“This one prefers human lips, bat man.” She purred as he slipped into her arms. “How long delayed? The kids are out, seeking a place to make home.”

“The kids are away… interesting. That crab disrupted my form, with his despicable aura; it’s the downside of existing as I do, sweetie.” He sighed long and slow. “I hate that when you really need me… I can never be there.”

“You need make no excuses, lover. Perhaps someday…” She joined her sigh with his and leaned against his warm, very real and totally human chest. With a finger to her collar button, she contacted her young crew.

“Amy, Moonrise has been delayed at least a few days. Find us a deep water mooring away from town.”

#

Leafchaser’s cork bobber dipped suddenly, at the end of her long line and bamboo fishing pole. She gave a sharp tug to set her hook and heaved smoothly against a surging, thrashing explosion that nearly pulled her into the water. The hideous, gape mouthed form of a full grown frogodile appeared beneath her, flailing wildly with her hook and lure lost somewhere in that open pit of a maw. That was bad enough, but its wild thrashing tails smashed apart her canoe, leaving her stranded up a tree in the middle of the tidal swamp.

She cut her line and leapt back to the boll of the mangrove she was perched in, over the deep tidal channel. “Look out there!” She shouted to a small boat, blithely sailing her way under no visible propulsion source. She waved them away desperately as their little cockleshell boat headed right up the waterway.

“I’ll ask her, Wilf.” A girl’s sweet, high voice sang out over the water. “Hey, does anybody own that shitty island over there?” She asked, her words ringing out clearly over the distance. She was standing at the tiller of the small craft, and still sailing Leafchaser’s way, while pointing to a mucky, silted up mangrove mound nearby.

“Stay back! There’s a monster! In the water, stay back!” She shouted, really hollering at them, to get the message across.

“We saw… We’re Adventure guild apprentices, was that a Gapemaw frog?” She demanded, as her two companions produced long, barbed harpoons from somewhere.

“No!” She shouted back, wondering where this was headed. “Frogodile, a related monster! Still dangerous!”

The girl let her boat drift on the slow current for a moment, while she pulled out a book, of all things. She flipped a few pages and read for a few seconds, before snapping her little tome closed with a radiant smile that was bright, even across fifty yards of swamp.

“We’ve got this, boys. Zero threat, as long as it doesn’t swallow you. No teeth or special acids, so even then, just have a belt knife with you to cut your way out!” She told her friends, loudly enough for the catgirl up the tree to hear.

“We should get her out of that tree first.” The tall, slim, dark skinned young man said, jerking his thumb in the stranded catgirl’s direction.

#