Previously, our heroes were teaching the Scribe to use the short swords gifted to him by the Inventor. The Marksman, demonstrating swordplay, became distracted by the memories surrounding the master assassin that attacked him in Franklin. The Wizard took the Marksman aside, offering to train him in the use of magic. The Marksman, knowing that further knowledge of magic would give him a better chance at defeating the assassin, follows the Wizard into a mysterious portal.
The Gunslinger lounges in the crow’s nest, staring lazily up at the sky, admiring the large fluffy clouds that float by as he takes a pull on his hand-rolled cigar. It had been a couple of days since they had been attacked by the ghastly spirits of sailors who had long since met their doom. The Scribe and Distiller agreed that the fellowship should be close to the island, but the Gunslinger is starting to believe it was a load of fertilizer. True, it was a relief that the ocean became more what the Gunslinger was accustomed to seeing with the waves and the winds, as opposed to the eerily calm waters they sailed when they met the aforementioned spectral foes, but it seems like there is an endless ocean ahead and the crew is growing restless.
As if on cue the Gunslinger catches a snippet of a conversation from the deck, a pair of worried crew-members concerned not only about this seemingly never-ending voyage but also of the missing heroes.. The discussion mentioned the missing Wizard and Marksman that disappeared from the ship a day ago. Some of the heroes were worried about their disappearances but the Gunslinger didn’t really pay it any mind. In his time there weren’t many wizards and even in his time-traveling excursions, he didn’t run into many then, either. Quite honestly the Wizard was the first wizard he’s ever met, though after seeing everything he’s seen throughout time, he doubts he’ll be the only wizard he will ever see. Between the strange happenings he’s seen throughout time and the oddity that the Wizard brings to the table, anything is possible.
The Gunslinger’s musings are interrupted by the chortle of a dove flying close to the crow’s nest, making the Gunslinger sit up. Birds don’t just come out to sea like this, they have to have somewhere to…
“LAND!” shouts the Gunslinger loudly. “LAND, LAND, LAND HO!” the Gunslinger continues to cheer as the crew-members rush to the front of the boat, desperate to see solid land for the first time in weeks. Crew-members countenances are changing from worried to joyous like ice melting after a long cold winter.
Captain Crimson draws his looking glass and extends it, gazing at the jagged peaks sticking up out of the water.
“According to the charts we’ve seen, the island should be just beyond that rocky up-shoot there,” explains the Scribe. The rest of the crew knew this already, their giddiness apparent at the prospect of seeing land again, even if it was strange land.
Captain Crimson strolled back to the ship’s wheel and slams the water wheel lever back and grabs the throttle, ripping it into the same position. The wheel drops into the water and begins to churn and thick black smoke billows from exhaust pipes at the stern of the ship. The ship creaks as the wheel professional Crimson shouts into the boiler room speaker pipe with glee, “Give it all ya got boys, keep that waterwheel turnin and we’ll be upon land soon!” He then turns and yells to the crew, “Drop the sails! Let her breathe all the breeze she can handle!”
The deck is alive with celebration as the crew is excited to finally make landfall. The Scribe and the Distiller have a violin and a lute (respectively) and are playing a lively song for everyone to dance to. The Barkeep has a giant bourbon barrel on a table handing out bourbon pints to sailors like parents give out candy on Halloween. The worries of the past couple weeks melt away in the sweet melody of the music. Even the Captain’s macaw is getting in on the celebrations, singing along with the tune being played by the Distiller and Scribe. “I left my home and land to sail a clipper ship/Into the parts of my own map that barely have been writ/I must be out my mind to leave Franklin in my wake/ But I'll get that silver in my ear, we're puttin out the wake,” sings the jolly macaw.
Several sailors join in with the macaw, even the Hero throws his voice into the song’s bright chorus. The Barkeep thumps along with the tune, drumming on the top of his bourbon barrel. Captain Crimson stands on the edge of the poop deck, his feet sliding across the deck. Crimson taps his feet across the deck, does a quick spin, and then leaps into the air, flipping over the railing, and finally striking a perfect landing on the main deck. The deck is momentarily quiet as the heroes and the crew members look on in awe. Then cheers break out, everyone clapping and complimenting Crimson’s fancy footwork.
The boat continues its course towards the island, and a large gap in the shoals is present to allow the ship through. The mysterious island sits in the distance, beckoning the rejoicing sailors onward. The ship eventually passes through the towering shoals, the party still rocking on the deck of the boat. The rocky shoals rise out of the water, the remnant of the incredible impact of a meteor so many years ago. Birds fluttered around the peaks of the shoals, and dense vegetation populated the island. The sounds of several animals living in the vegetation permeate the air.
The Gunslinger is glad to finally here the hum of life again, the sea can be so quiet without the sounds of…
The sounds, they were gone. There was a rumbling but the Gunslinger couldn’t see anything. Then a deafening sound erupts from the shore…..