The Wandering Isles: Session 64
The night began with simple conversation, Amaedrianna and Weslyn debating the question of forest ownership. Yet even in the quiet hours, unease stirred. Eos dreamed of Amaedrianna, while Weslyn tried, unsuccessfully, to peer into her dreams. Rest was fleeting.
Eos went fishing at dawn, returning first with a small kipper, then, by chance, reeling in a venomous angler fish whose glowing lure held her mesmerised. Amaedrianna and Slate acted quickly, pinning the creature and dispatching it before its toxins could spread. Eldrin and Slate harvested what they could of its glands and offered them to Hatsu, while Slate and Eos set about cooking the dangerous catch. The risk was clear, but the reward promised to be delicious. Not all stomachs were so fortunate—Eos was soon doubled over with sickness while the others endured.
Their voyage brought them to Vurduar, Amaedrianna’s home. Two ships intercepted them before they could make dock. Amaedrianna declared herself, but the guards doubted her claim. She answered their disbelief by hurling a dagger into one man’s skull. The other, cowed, handed over a purse of twelve coins and let them pass.
At the docks, Slate, disguised as Dash, shoved an old man into the water to announce his presence. Amaedrianna turned her eye to the ships, seeking a more seaworthy vessel than their own, while Slate worked on a way to slip aboard the one she favoured. Eldrin, taking Amaedrianna’s lessons to heart, tried to appear less vulnerable by lowering his voice into a gruff growl and adopting an exaggerated swagger—much to Eos’s confusion.
They drifted into a tavern. Amaedrianna spoke with pirates of the very ship she had marked, and with a dockrat named Finn. He was willing to steal it for her, but not while its captain remained aboard. The captain in question was none other than Vael Sarran Kravak of Dorndarum, a legend in his own right, commander of the sixth-ranked pirate crew of those infamous waters. Amaedrianna lured him with promises of an audience with the Archon himself.
Meanwhile, Slate tested his shapeshifting, attempting to mimic the dread captain’s form, and even conjured a false copy of his notorious hat. Amaedrianna schemed to swap it for the real one. To press the advantage, Slate threw down a challenge: a drinking contest. Eos, caught up in the moment, asked for the captain’s autograph, only to be dismissed with cold contempt.
The contest began in earnest. Slate matched Sarran glass for glass, draining an entire bottle of whiskey to catch up. At stake was more than pride. Whoever won would not only claim the hat and pay for the drinks, but would also trade one of their own: a dockrat from Sarran’s crew, or a member of Slate’s party if he lost.
The night ended with the roar of voices, the clink of bottles, and everything balanced precariously on the outcome of one reckless gamble.
