-Nate
Tales from Homeworld
and Beyond: Act of Faith
It
was an annual tradition among certain worshipers of Gaea on
Homeworld: Every spring they would hire a sailing ship to transport
them well up the Great River, which flowed into the southeast end
of the Middle Sea, at the time when it swelled with seasonal
flooding. This brought new life and greenery to the otherwise barren
desert, and thus was a time of prayer and celebration for Gaea's
faithful.
This
year they'd hired the crew of the Skylark.
That was why the setting sun found Konrad and Uriel—along with
several other members of the ship's crew—bent to the oars of her
longboat, from which a tow cable ran back to the vessel. It was
grueling work, but at last it was finished.
“That's
it!” Maximilian called from his position in the Skylark's
bow. “Drop anchor!”
“Drop
anchor!” Horace relayed the order. The crew hastened to comply. He
added, “Miss Lucinda, would you inform our passengers that we've
arrived?”
“Certainly,”
the half-elf replied, and headed aft toward the passenger cabins.
By
that time Max, too, had headed back to the sterncastle, where Horace
stood next to the sailor at the whipstaff. “What do we do now,
Captain?” the halfling asked.
“Now,”
the human explained, “we stand back and let our guests conduct
their ceremony without any undue scrutiny.”
“Ceremony,
Captain?”
“Yes.
I've been told that it involves, well, ritual bathing.”
“Bathing?”
That came from Uriel; he and Konrad, with the others, had returned
from towing with the longboat and climbed back aboard. He made a show
of sniffing at himself and then gave a lascivious smile. “I could
do with a bath.”
“But
this is a sacred religious observance,” Horace countered. “Which
is why everyone but Lucinda will be confined to quarters belowdecks.”
“Why
does she get to stay?”
the half-orc protested.
“Because
she knows how to exercise discretion,”
Horace replied. “Now step to it.”
By
this time Gaea's faithful had emerged from the aft cabins, and Max's
gaze lingered on a halfling woman with a head full of long, dark
curls. “But captain, I can be... discreet.”
“No.
And that's an order.”
With
considerable grumbling, the sailors headed belowdecks.
* * *
Some
time later, Horace, Uriel and Konrad, with a few others, were
throwing dice in a game of passage, using a cargo crate for a table
and water casks for stools. A frustrated Maximilian sat in the
corner, working at cleaning some kind of complicated mechanical
device.
“What
is that, Max?” Horace asked.
“It's
one of the 'inventions' that Captain Axelrod gave us, part of his
payment for that cargo of foodstuffs. He called it a 'gnomish
pepperbox.' I'm starting to think, though, that this one was dropped
in seawater, because the mechanism is all fouled.”
“Ah.”
Horace stroked one end of his mustache. “Well, do what you can, but
don't—”
He
was interrupted by the thudding of footsteps coming down the ladder
from above. “Captain,” Lucinda announced. “We have an
unexpected guest.”
“Who
is it?” Horace asked.
“It
might be easier to show you.”
“Lead
the way.” With that, the captain and other officers head up to the
main deck, where a shining panoply of stars filled the night sky.
What drew their attention first, however, was the green-skinned,
reptilian figure that lied on the deck, gasping for breath,
surrounded by Gaea's faithful.
“What
in hell?” Horace started to ask, but Lucinda moved past him to
kneel beside the creature, who'd stirred and begun to whisper between
gasps in a language other than the Common Tongue.
“She
says,” the half-elf translated, “she wants our help.”
“Our
help?” Horace asked.
“She
says,” Lucinda's eyes went wide. “She says, 'They took our
children.'”
Before
anyone else could respond, Max interjected. “Wait. What's that?”
Over
the murmur of the flowing river and the occasional noise of a bird in
the surrounding greenery, they could hear the subtle but distinctive
sound of boats being rowed with muffled oarlocks.
“All
hands,” Horace hissed, “prepare for battle. And do it quietly.”
The crew scrambled to do so, with the officers passing out cutlasses
and light crossbows. Suitably equipped, they moved to positions
around the ship's siderails, while the worshipers of Gaea gathered in
the middle of the deck around the mainmast.
“You
should head back to your cabins,” Horace warned them.
“No,”
the halfling objected. “If there is battle, and your crew members
are injured, then we can help them.”
“Fair
enough,” the Captain replied. Then he looked to Max. “Keep an eye
on them.”
“Aye-aye.”
The rogue, drawing his rapier, moved among the passengers.
Moments
later a trio of longboats emerged in different directions from the
surrounding darkness. Each had a quarter of burly and rough-looking
sailors at the oars, along with armed enforcers in the bow and stern.
“Ahoy!”
a man in the front of one longboat called. “Ahoy, Skylark!”
“Ahoy!”
Horace responded. “What is your business here?”
The
other man smiled. He was a human, wearing a tricorn hat and a
brass-buttoned jacket. “I am Captain Arturo Martelli. My men and I
have lost something of value, and seek to reclaim it.”
Lucinda
and Horace exchanged knowing glances; they both recognized the name
of the pirate known as “The Hammer,” a man who neither asked for
nor offered quarter in battle.
Then
the captain of the Skylark
looked to the exhausted lizard woman, whom the Gaeans had moved
amidst themselves. “And what is that?” he asked.
“A
slave, one of little value to any but us.”
Horace
steeled himself. “And if we refuse?”
Martelli
smiled, an expression devoid of warmth, and gestured toward his
underlings. While many carried cutlasses and crossbows of their own,
others produced bottles filled with some kind of liquid and with rags
tucked into the ends. Striking flint and steel, they ignited their
incendiaries. “If you refuse,” he continued, “then we will burn
your ship to the waterline, and shoot anyone who tries to escape from
it.” Without waiting for a response, he commanded the sailors in
his boat to row it toward the Skylark.
Then he and two of his fellows climbed aboard. Accepting a fire
bottle from one of them, Martelli held it aloft. “It's your
decision, of course, but I encourage you to choose... wisely.”
“You
can't!” someone objected. It was the halfling who'd caught Max's
eye. “This is a child of Gaea, and slavery is a violation of Her
will.”
“Her
will?” Martelli spat. “Gaea's
will? Woman, the only thing you need to worry about is the will of
Arturo Martelli and his pirates.”
“That's
not true.”
It
took a moment for everyone to realize who'd spoken: Max.
“What?”
Martelli asked.
“I
said you're wrong,” the halfling persisted. “If Gaea doesn't want
you to harm a creature, then She won't let you do so.”
“Bullshit,”
Martelli countered.
“No.”
Max shook his head. “I can prove it.”
“How?”
The
halfling stroked his chin for a moment, and then produced an item
from his satchel—the gnomish pepperbox.
Although
the pirates brandished their swords, Max gripped the weapon by its
barrel and offered it to one of them. With two quick gestures he
sprinkled powder in the firing pan and cocked the hammer. “Do what
you will,” he declared, “but Gaea will not let you harm me.”
The
other accepted the weapon, and then looked to Martelli. He received a
curious look and a nod in response. Then the pirate pointed the
pistol at Max and pulled the trigger.
It
exploded in his hand.
The
'Larks moved quickly during the ensuing confusion. Horace and Uriel
pulled their swords and stepped up to attack, while Konrad invoked a
blessing from Ptah and then hefted his warhammer. Lucinda turned on
those pirates who carried firebombs and hit them with a gout of flame
from her fingertips. Captain Martelli was engulfed when his bottle
exploded; he plunged over the rail, into the water. Seeing that, the
others began clambering or leaping overboard. Within moments they had
disappeared with their longboats back into the night.
* * *
Afterward,
while Horace and Konrad attended to the wounded and Lucinda sent her
familiar to bring news of the attack to the local authorities, the
halfling cleric approached Max. She considered him for a moment and
then asked, “How did you know?”
“What's
that?”
“How
did you know that you wouldn't be hurt?”
Max
smiled. “You, my lady, should understand. It's not about knowing,
but about believing.”
| The Skylark
To find a deckplan for the bark Skylark, refer to the following post on the d20 Pirates blog. |
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