Bounties & Fortunes

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The adventure log is where you list the sessions and adventures your party has been on, but for now, we suggest doing a very light “story so far” post. Just give a brief overview of what the party has done up to this point. After each future session, create a new post detailing that night’s adventures.

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CAPTAIN'S LOG #1
A Lot to Catch Up On

[Slightly Less Redacted] CAPTAIN’S LOG 1

I suppose I ought to have thought by now to keep a record of things. I am a Captain, after all. The Madame Fortune is a good ship, and she probably deserves better than me. Still, I hope to do right by her and our crew.

If you are reading this for any reason, there’s a good chance it’s post-mortem. I hope I went out doing something I believed in.

If you’re looking for records, that’d be the ship logbook. My first mate, Francis, tends to it. I’ve known him since childhood – he’s always been more organized.

A trait I both admire and lack. It is my hope that this book will aide me in arranging and understanding my thoughts.

My change of heart did not come without prompting, I suppose. We recently met a powerful dragon who opened my eyes to many things. Though I am honor-bound not to reveal too much of the trials and tribulations involved in being tested by a great dragon, I can assure you it was a wonderful story. Perhaps some day, it can be told. But not now – not in its entirety.

Truth be told, I am unsure of where to start. The log begins at a turning point in my life, I expect, but none so major as when I became aware of my magic, or lost my mother, or became first mate. Certainly nothing like when I became Captain.

Would it be considered “Skipping ahead” to mention how the dragon, Croquillo, said I hide a great many things? In front of my party, too! Though, no one has asked about it… yet. 

I suppose she was not wrong. It.. I mean, I do not do so out of malice. As I said once to Athven, I would not willingly hold a secret I thought would harm someone that I care for. Simply some things only seem important in retrospect. Others still are of a more private matter.

Who am I writing this for, exactly? I suppose that would affect who I should proceed. Should I explain from the begging? Were this a story, I should think that starting now would be right in the middle of it.

However, if I am writing for me, then prior knowledge is assumed. I suppose I’ll carry on as if it is for myself first and foremost, and others second. I’ll explain relevant information as I go.

We recently completed a set of trials set for us by Croquillo and her people. One thing that occurred involved each of the seven of us – myself, Raleigh, Athven, Tocca, Feregh, Crisp and Hazel – reliving defining moments of our lives. It was sort of a bit traumatic.

 At any rate, I’ve stalled long enough. I have much to recount, up until this point.

I am not an interesting man, by any accepted standard. I am the son of a well-bred, respected merchant, and his curious and loving wife. I spent the majority of my childhood learning many things from many people – my parents spared no expense in my education.

Among my various private tutors was a man named Borlin, who remains an inspiration and trusted mentor to this day. I spent several summers on Lark’s Folly, learning about the great many beasts in our world. Though I did not become a Druid, I still value the knowledge greatly. It, among other things, opened my eyes to the greater wonders of the world, and fo*rthat I am truly grateful.

I, myself, was a bit of a handful. All children are, I am sure, but most practical merchant families do not expect to birth a sorcerer. I sure kept my mother on her toes, but she did not seem to mind. My father, however, must have already begun realizing that I was not the son he had expected.

My father was not cruel, simply… detached. I had no doubt that I was a disappointment to him, again and again. [REDACTED]

I began my training as a merchant. Of course, I had been raised as such, but now it became the primary focus. It was not particularly of interest to me, but it had its perks. I had always loved the sea, and when my father placed me as a first mate on one of his vessels to learn the aspects that I would miss ashore, I felt freer than I had in a long time.

Nothing lasts, and quite honestly, I’m sure I would have bored of it. I’ve always been difficult.

When I discovered that our captain had been trafficking people and weapons under my father’s nose, I couldn’t stand by, or wait for my father’s word. That would have been weeks – maybe longer – of suffering at the hand of our family’s company. I couldn’t stand for that.

So, I confronted him. We dueled, and I won. It was, for all intents and purposes, a mutiny. I left his loyal crew members on a frequently trafficked island with rations. I told them that his blood was on their hands as well as mine. That they should endeavor not to cross my path again.

And then, we left. I couldn’t face my father after what had happened. I spent my personal savings to buy the ship from him, and became a captain of my own. I like to call myself a freelance merchant, but we occasionally take on the jobs others wouldn’t – so it’s possible that some would prefer the term pirate.

In fact, I’ve garnered a nickname from the many who sail these seas – the Moral Pirate. They say it as a joke, but I am not ashamed. Not everything is cut and dry – there are grey areas to many of our laws and behaviors – but herding innocent people into internment and slavery is not blurry. I will never become a person who will do anything for a gold coin.

Perhaps it is that I come from a place of never wanting, not where means of food and shelter are concerned. I had the money to buy my father’s ship. I come from a background that is different from others. Shale warned me that he acted the way he had because of what another person had over him – a deal he’d made. I do not doubt that there will be a time when I have to choose what is right when I would rather choose what I want. I do not envy him for the end it brought him.

My life certainly did change after the mutiny. I learned that I did not have all of the skills to be a captain, and relied often on the expertise of others around me. Most trusty in this and many other regards is Francis, my first made and childhood friend. The man is like a brother to me, and has gotten me out of more scraps than I can count. I owe him more than I can say.

I suppose the next turn in my life came unexpectedly. Francis expressed to me that being routinely understaffed did little for morale, and that we might find some extra crew. Additionally, we picked up passengers, as we often do.

Among our new crew was a formidable half-orc named Feregh, a spritely young Aaracocra named Tocca, and an elf named Athven.

Though Francis managed to recruit Feregh, and I’m still not quite sure how, she proved her worth quickly. I would be remiss to not add that I find her a very solid person outside of the physical aspect, as well.

I admit, I see the crew as family. We have done so much together, seen and been through more than a typical merchant crew. Feregh fits in well. My helmswoman, Raleigh, seems to like her.

Tocca came to me looking for a job that would give her coin for fruit. We were able to do one better, I am happy to say – coin and fruit. She is an often-upbeat addition to our crew, an additional member for our crow’s nest, and a skilled unarmed fighter. She also gets along well with Audrey.

Audrey is.. Athven’s niece. His agreement for employment was simple- he would work for her passage.

I had not wanted children on board. I am not superstitious, I did not feel that they would be particularly bad luck. More than anything, I felt that I was unprepared to deal with children, myself. It is certainly a responsibility I effectively shirked by refusing to marry a rich noblewoman and bear little ones with her.

Nonetheless, I suddenly found myself with two. A new cabin boy, who I later discovered was an undercover little brother of one of our passengers, a well known performer who hoped to escape a poor situation.

I understand, logically, that neither of them are my children. But… I am a captain. Everyone on my ship is in my care.

Audrey… is sharp witted, curious, and bright in more ways than her intelligence. In truth, it was impossible not to find myself fond.

Her uncle, on the other hand… quiet. Difficult. Stressed.

I can’t explain it, not in any way I’m able to put into concise words, but I wanted to change that.

I wanted to see him smile.

As our time went on, I came to understand that they were running. It was only recently that I discovered from what.

Even before I knew, I knew that she was young, and innocent. I wanted to help. I wanted… perhaps vey strongly, to see both of them feel safe. I got the impression that neither of them had felt that way for a very long time.

I may not have much – still more than others, I know – but I have this. I have my ship. The people on it are good people, and it is as safe as I can make it. A person with no worries might find themselves more fortified in a small hut on the outskirts of town, but who becomes a pirate that isn’t running to or from something?

We delivered our cargo to Lark’s Folly after leaving Port Bounty. En route, we discovered the sinking wreck of The Season’s Greetings, and were able to rescue the few survivors. Among them was Captain Garlic Grimley, who i am proud to now call my Helmsman.

Upon delivery of the dragon’s egg we carried to Borlin in Lark’s Folly, he and Hazel (half sister to Aisah, advisor to the princess) requested something that I normally would not have blinked at – to meet with a Dragon on behalf of Port Bounty and Lark’s Folly. For protection.

Athven was… worried, understandably. For Audrey’s safety, primarily.

I think perhaps that this was when I realized that all of this is bigger than me. I have lives in my hands every day, and in leaving Audrey with Borlin, our crew took on a task that would put the lives of many, many more squarely on our shoulders.

I believe Athven and I reached and understanding, then. I promised him I wouldn’t keep anything secret that might hurt her or put her in danger. We all have or secrets, but her safety is a priority for both of us, now. In truth, I think almost any of the crew would protect her. They’re good people. Tocca and Feregh certainly would, and Francis is a good man. Everyone loves her. The ship is becoming strangely domestic.

We set off for the Mist Isles, and when we arrived, we met with Croquillo’s council. Upon discovering that we had an egg for her, they were quite adamant that they couldn’t decide anything for her, and moved us forward into the trials.

In our first trial, we faced two other groups to build a construct. The green team sought a great adventure, headed by a great but aging man. The red team sought knowledge, and was headed by an insidious woman called the Ghost on the Wind.

It turned out that she was no more than a ghost, a visage created to garner perspective on us by Croquillo herself.

Our next trial was rather the more difficult of the two, as it forced us each to relive very specific points in our life, for all of our party to see.

I replayed the mutiny and murder of my former captain by my hands. Feregh relived a confrontation with an adversary who spoke down to her no matter what she did, insisting that she would never be good enough. We all witnessed what would have been the kidnapping an enslavement of Tocca’s village, had we not been able to interfere. Crisp saw again the kidnapping of eggs by a rival clan, And Raleigh relived the pirate-caused shipwreck that killed her uncle. I found it interesting that Hazel’s involved saving Francis, of all people, from a back alley brawl. I do want to know more about the circumstances surrounding that.

Finally, we discovered why Athven was running with Audrey, as a result of discussion that happened after our trials. In the trial, we saw him protect her from an assassin, who chose to let them go. He later explained that she was the half eleven child of a nobleman and an elf, whom he had taken as a wife. When a coup was staged to kill them, Athven took Audrey and ran. I know her family name… my father did business with them.

As we emerged, perhaps worse for the wear, we found ourselves heading in to a large library where we met a dragonborn named Wendy. She offered us knowledge, spoke with us briefly, and offered amusement via questions involving how we saw our world.

Perhaps we should have guessed that Wendy was, in fact, Croquillo.

We had passed her trials. She spoke to us about our deal and approved, as well as asking us to take on perhaps a greater task- that of taking down the infamous pirate Lucy Fairweather – the pirate who took down The ship Raleigh was on all those years ago.

I do still think there is more to Raleigh and Lucy than we know, but I do not fault her want for justice.

Croquile mentioned that I hide much of myself, and she is not wrong. She gifted me with a new sword but also an amulet meant to help me , presumably with magic. She said to use it when I am ready.

She gave others gifts, too, and we headed to the inn exhausted but with renewed purpose. 

Now, we go to get Audrey and our passengers, before heading north toward Brickport, the black ports, and Lucy Fairweather.

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INTERACTION: Lian and Fart
Occurring after leaving Croquillo's Isle, before arriving at Lark's Folly

Lian Greylight was restless. In truth, this wasn’t unusual, but his room was empty and the ship was quiet, both things that set his mind at unease. After completing his journal entry (something he’d taken up quite recently), he decided for a walk. It wasn’t unusual for him to check on the runnings of the ship – even when he was overburdened with several jobs, he tried to make time to keep track of his crew. A bit to his dismay, everything was running smoothly, and the night was uneventful and quiet. With too many thoughts swirling about in his brain, he wanted a drink, but decided on a replacement – a nice, strong cup of tea. Sam had long since cleaned up from dinner and gone to bed, leaving the galley empty, but Lian was more than capable of boiling water.

After a few minutes, while the tea still brews in the pot, there’s a slight rapping at the door. Who is it? It’s a dark figure. It’s a tall figure. It’s a handsome figure. It’s everyone’s favorite human deckhand, Fart MacArthur! And wouldn’t you know it, this boy looks tired, with his beard a bit unkempt, but a grin is on his face and he has two empty cups in his hands. Lian’s cups? You bet.

He raises the two cups to bring attention to them and says, with his voice full of gravel and a mouth filled with teeth “Hey Lian. I hope you’re brewing enough of that for two.”

Lian’s attention is drawn to the presence of another less quickly than it ought to have been, but still just prior to his friend speaking up. Turning on his heel and tucking a knick-knack he had been fiddling with back into his pocket, he offers a half-smile, not quite reaching its usual lengths. He looks a bit tired, but chuckles nonetheless.

“Fart. You sure have a way of turning up,” he comments, pushing himself up from where he was leaning on a counter.

“I’ve made plenty, if you’re really in the mood for herbal tea.”

Fart places the two cups down nearer to where Lian is standing. He grins and says “My parents always said I had a knack for disappearing.” He pauses a half second for excellent comedic timing. “Or maybe it was a knack for disappointing. Who can say, eh?” Then, vaguely gesturing towards the two cups, he says “I’ll be a good mate and have whatever you’re having. Herbal tea is fine if it will calm down your fidgeting. I can get something stiff when we hit port tomorrow.” Then, he looks into one of the cups, gives a mocking grimace and says “It looks like we might need to wash these out first, though. They appear to still have whatever you had a few days ago still in it. Unlike you. Others may not see it so clearly, but you’ve got your own stuff brewing inside you, and you look like you need your drinking bud more than ever. Even if it is only tea.”

“Yeah well, you’ve sure got plenty to say,” Lian grouses, though it’s neither biting nor does it hold much weight. He shakes his head, holding out his hand.

“Give them here. I ought to start remembering to bring them back,” he avoids the topic, if only for an extra few moments while he rinses the cups.

“I’m trying to be… responsible,” he finally speaks, setting aside one of the clean mugs. “Do hope it doesn’t make me boring. Don’t want to wake up feeling rough tomorrow morning… too much to do.”

Fart picks up the clean mug and looks with one eye into it before placing it back down carefully in a precise spot in front of him. “I suppose that you don’t want to be caught hammered and unawares if you’re talking to dragons and chasing after the Foul Wind.” He picks with great tenacity at something caught in between his lower teeth. Fart doesn’t get it, but still tries to lick it away for a second before saying “You want to talk about any of this shit? I know I sure would…if I ever allowed myself to be in your position, that is.” He ends that sentence with a Shit Eating Grin.

“Yeah, well some of us run from responsibilty just to have it bite us in the arse, Fart,” Lian replies, but he can’t help smirking a little despite himself.

He sets the other cup aside, glancing over to the kettle.

“Honestly, it’s less that I don’t want to talk and more that I don’t know where to start,” he admits, crossing his arms as he feels the urge to start fidgeting again. Fart’s more observant than people give him credit for. Handsome, too. Dangerous combination.

“Hey, I know your deep dark secret already, right?”

Fart scratches his scruff under his chin for maybe a second too long. With a sigh that he carries into his talking, Fart says “Well, sure. You know where I come from and you know my full name. But those aren’t that deep, and I don’t think I’ve told you my /darkest/ secret. Some things are best left there.”

Fart tilts his head a bit and looks at Lian. Going back to whatever is in his teeth, he says, a bit muffled, but a bit louder to make up for it “Don’t try and turn this my way, eh? Just start somewhere, Lian. Either start at the beginning or start at the biggest problem. I’ll get the picture one way or the other, I’m sure.”

Lian huffs a somewhat exaggerated sigh, always just edging on the side of vaguely dramatic. He leans back against the counter on the wave of his exhale.

“Don’t know which one’s the biggest. Think Francis is hiding something from me. I let myself get distracted when I tried to talk to him about it. Don’t know how to get back to it. Don’t think he wants to talk,” he begins, going with this first thing that comes to mind, before glancing back to the kettle again. Damned equipment was slow. He wondered if Sam was happy with it. Maybe there was some way to improve it… ah, but he was letting himself get distracted. Again.

Fart finally picks and pulls out a long strand of something green and looks at it wildly for a second before flinging it to the ground. He composes himself and glances casually to Lian. “That’s an easy one. You find him and talk to him. He’s easy. Tell him you’re concerned. Tell him he’s your first mate, but also your best friend. If he wants this ship to run better, as he is the First Mate, he’ll know he has to tell you, because he knows you can’t have a captain with too many distractions. Maybe you’ll both feel bad for a bit, but it’s better to finish parting that veil, friend.” Fart starts twisting his pinky inside his ear with a quick vigor and a squeak that either emanates from his ear or from his throat. “You’re a captain. Your job is to talk to people and know things. What else you have troubling your mind?” With a wink, and the pinky removed from his ear, he says “I thought you said you had big problems.”

Lian blinks blankly at him, before laughing aloud. “Tell me something, how do you have such simple solutions for everything? And how do you manage to charm anyone like this? It’s because you’re gorgeous,” he scoffs jokingly, not really expecting an answer, especially as the kettle goes off. Taking it off the heat, he breaks a bit of the tea brick into both mugs, pouring water into each.

“Hopefully you don’t feel like answering my rhetorical questions, because I have the sudden and inexplicable urge to hear myself speak,” he jokes in his usual self deprecating manner, sliding a hot mug over to Fart.

“Lucy Fairweather. She’s supposed to be dead, isn’t dead, has got who knows what on her side, and I’m sailing a whole boat of people – two children included – right to her. Because a dragon asked me to?”

Fart grabs the mug and blows some air into it in and attempt to cool it down. He smirks and says “You’re not doing it for the dragon. You know that. You’re doing it because you think it’s the right thing to do, Lian.” He concentrates on the mug and blows a bit harder into the tea. “The reason that you think you’re just doing it for the dragon is the same reason that anyone tries to get my attention when I’m out on the town. You think you want to impress the dragon, just like they think they want to impress me. But really, they just want to feel good themselves. They’d still feel good if they took somebody else out of the bar, just like you’d still know you had to do this if somebody else asked you to go after Lucy Fairweather. It’s just giving you the push.” He’ll blow once more, quickly. “The children are a tough call.”
Fart takes a sip and quickly reacts because it’s still too hot, and starts swearing in different languages under his breath.
He’ll look up, smirk roguishly with his lots of teeth and say “If it helps your thinking any, you could go after Lucy to impress me, instead. After all, I think you’re at your best when you’re flashing your bravery.”

Lian lets out a huff of air like a laugh and grins, a little more careful as he sips his own tea. He’s careful where he puts his hands, not wanting to burn himself, but knowing that the warmth from the cup would keep him present, focused. He considers both the jovial and less parts of his response before making it.

“Imagine you’ve got enough people trying to impress you. Wouldn’t want you to bear the awful burden,” he teases, his posture relaxing at least a little.

“You’re right. It’s the right thing to do, and the children are a tough call. Though neither of them are really my call to make, are they? I may be Captain, but I am neither Cornelius nor Audrey’s guardian. Not really,” he trails that subject off, trying to circle back around to something less troublesome. Unsuccessfully.

“But… Bravery’s about all I’ve got, sometimes. So, thanks. Too bad you’re not my type, MacArthur.”

Fart chuckles and winks with a dishonesty apparent to even the most unobservant. “You know that’s not what I meant, Lian. And we both know it’s good I’m not your type. I just want you to shift how you’re looking at everything. You’re packing it all up into a pile right now. You’re getting put off by a daunting amount of tasks. You need to focus on what you can control, and then let everyone else handle their own shit. You know this crew. We have some new faces, sure, but the old ones are still there. You know we can help protect those kids when shit goes down. Just like that dustup at the Old Wreck, we’ll protect them as if they were crew. None of us want to see them get hurt.”

Fart will swirl the mug around a bit and eye it warily before popping out a pinky finger taking a gulp from the tea. He’ll make that face where someone has clearly tried swallowing too much and it kind of hurts to force it all down, but he does. After he does this, he holds up a finger to give him a moment to recover. He pulls a mildly disgusted face and says “All this tea is doing is giving me a hard time. How is this relaxing for you?”

But then he recovers almost too quickly, as if there was no problem at all, takes a normal drink, and points the finger of the hand holding the cup at Lian. “I’d say the best thing you can do about those kids is trust that anyone that wants to get to them will have to get past that Uncle. The one with the cheekbones? He’s got a sour look to him sometimes. It makes me wonder if he could melt someone with a glare…or at least make someone’s heart skip a beat.” After delivering that last line, he takes a big drink, but anyone can fucking tell even through the mug that he is grinning, and even his eyes are smiling.

Lian almost chokes on the sip of tea he was trying to take, but manages composure at the last minute, spluttering just slightly. He’s a little tempted to give up on tea and head straight to the hard stuff, but he doesn’t. His stubbornness has its positives. Forgoing commenting on the earlier grousing about the tea, his focus is steered directly to yet another issue at hand – one Fart is poking unapologetically at from behind his mug. Besides, he isn’t sure why tea calms him down. Perhaps because something told him it would, or because he and his mum used to sit with a cup of tea and watch the ocean. Maybe it’s just because the herbal stuff hasn’t got any properties in it to make him jittery.He sighs in exasperation.

“You’re not subtle,” he complains, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward despite himself. He thinks for a moment, his worried expression a little bit.. hopeful. Then, he seems to remember something, and his shoulders droop a little bit.

“Francis implied that most of the crew’s gotten an impression, you know. About me and Athven,” he lets it trail off there, to see if Fart would say anything just as much to decide what he himself would say.

Fart places his mug back down carefully and drops his smile gradually. “The crew’s got many eyes and many brains that can see and figure things out. And they have mouths to gossip with, too. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten someone new to care about on the ship. They’re curious. And they’re curious of the company you’re keeping, is all. Some sailors believe that a captain shouldn’t think of personal affairs, but I think it’s best to keep you happy.” Fart will give a large yawn, and his teeth reflect like pearls as he goes for another large drink.
“The only time an impression should matter for you is if it’s the wrong impression. If they’re all mistaken, and I am, and Francis is, then I’ll tell them. Otherwise, I don’t think it matters too much. We’ve had stranger pairings below decks and under the sailcloth before.” He takes another rude big gulp of tea, but with no apparent problem this time. “They just don’t want a bad influence over you, is all.”

Lian’s expression is suddenly conflicted, and he doesn’t meet Fart’s eyes any longer, staring down into his tea. He suddenly feels smaller – no, younger. About seventeen, probably.

“Didn’t mean to concern myself with personal affairs, but I never was any good with keeping things professional,” he admits. He had always been the type to care about his crew and their lives, not remaining as carefully detached as many Captains. In some cases, it was a source of distraction. In others, the way that the crew worked like a family came in handy- they were oft in sync. Not the way many captains chose to command their ship, but Lian was no normal captain. The Moral Pirate , indeed.

“You know what I like about being a captain? A pirate?” He begins, toeing around the issue uncertainly. “Very few potential wives.”

Lian’s smile doesn’t reach its normal spot on his face.

“I don’t think there’s… I spoke to him, actually. Told him that people were getting ideas… because of my protecting Audrielle, because of our rows. He… said he hadn’t meant to overstep boundaries. Said I was his Captain,” he tries his best not to groan, dragging his hand over his face.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Fart. And I mean that. I have no idea what was going through my head. I think I’m… drawn to him, but… I don’t have the right, do I? He sees me as his captain. That puts me in a position I should be careful not to… misuse.”

Fart sighs and motions to draw Lian’s gaze towards him. “I don’t think any true romantic notion could come from your position as Captain of this ship, but I do think you’ve gone and stepped in it, Lian. I know I’m not the one you’d typically want to ask about courtship, but I’ve kept an eye out during my time. Don’t overcorrect your ship on this. Pay attention to what the wind and waves are doing on the horizon, and not just where the flag blows right now.” Fart holds meaningful eye contact for a few seconds, gauging where Lian is at before breaking it to burp.

Lian sighs and shakes his head, sipping his tea as he thinks about what Fart said. Surprisingly wise. Fart was always an enigma.

“Yeah… worrying about it does little good, doesn’t it?” He admits. “Plenty of other fish to fry, like whatever we’re heading to up in Brickport. I just want to do right by everyone,” finishing his tea, he sets the mug in the wash basin. Leaning back against the counter there, he sighs again, though his expression is lightening up.

“His cheekbones are ridiculously high, aren’t they? Any way — thanks for listening, Fart.”

Fart gets up and finishes his tea as well. “You’ll do right by us, Lian. That’s never the problem. You’ve got all of our trust. If you can keep that, then we’re all dandy. I’d imagine even Athven’s cheekbones appreciate being trusted.” As he places his cup next to Lian’s, he’ll say “And please talk to Francis soon. It will let your mind rest easy.” After clapping a hand on Lian’s shoulder, Fart will start making his way towards the door. “Well, I guess I’m gonna go and make a quick offering to the sea. Thanks for the leaf water, Lian. Maybe you should try drinking that more often. You’re not even fidgeting right now.” Then, with a soft smile and a wave he will duck out of the galley.

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CAPTAINS LOG 2
Too Many Loose Threads

CAPTAINS LOG 2

The journey from Croquillo’s island back to Lark’s Folly takes several days, so I have been able to get my bearings. Time to think hasn’t always been kind to me, but I suppose many of the things I have been considering are varying levels of importance.

After the trials, I was left with many questions. Perhaps more than I realize, even now. I must admit, that reliving the mutiny has taken its toll on my morale. It will take time to shake the thoughts from my. mind.

Hazel’s memory involved saving Francis. I spoke to her about it, and she was… genuine, sweet, but insisted that I speak to him. I told her that he was like a brother to me, and… she seemed to think there was something that he wasn’t telling me.

I finally spoke to him, but got.. very little by way of explanation. He did admit to me, on another subject entirely, that a good number of the crew thinks that Athven and I are… together. Romantically.

If I begin speaking about that, it’s going to be paragraphs. Perhaps I should, but I don’t have the patience for it, now. Needless to say, we are not. I’m not sure what to think of the crew’s observations. I’m going to need to really… think about it.

For now, I will have some tea. The galley should be empty, and maybe I’ll be able to get some thinking done.

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CAPTAINS LOG 3
There's More Talking To Do

CAPTAINS LOG 3



I’ve spent the time coming up to Lark’s folly hoping to gain some clarity in the variety of confusing situations I’ve seemed to land in. I’m working toward the solutions, but certainly not there yet. In fact, I’m not even sure where to start…

I spoke with Fart, who encouraged me to speak to Francis again. I haven’t spoken to Francis yet, but speaking with Fart still helped immensely. He has been a true friend to me through the years, and his advice is… often spot on, which still astounds me, given the lackadaisical way he lives his life.

We both lived that way, actually. It is shamefully recent that my responsibilities began to weigh me down. I am hoping to strike a balance where I might be as carefree as I once was, even in the face of all the cares that I do have.

I also spoke with Athven. He has not been sleeping in my cabin without Audrielle, which I suppose makes sense. He began to do so in an effort to keep her safe, believing she would be safer with me. In truth, that is an immense honor. I know how much she means to him, so being trusted with her care now and again is something I will not take for granted.

I’m fond of Audrey, though I’m sure I’ve mentioned that before. It will be nice to have her back.

Ah, but I digress. I let him know that the crew was making assumptions, seeing as we make many decisions together, care for Audrey together, and are often in proximity to one another. He insisted that I was the Captain…



Is it wrong for me to feel disappointment when he says that? I suppose it is.



I’m certain of very few things, lately. If anything, perhaps it’s a sign of growing. Is a man who is sure of everything a fool?



I’d like a happy medium, personally.

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CAPTAINS LOG 4
Where the past gives over to the future

CAPTAINS LOG 4

We are back from Lark’s Folly. It was not an easy venture, short as it may have been. En route to Borlin’s, I saw Forester, the assassin who let Athven and Audrey go free in his memory. Though the rest hurried to Borlin’s, I followed him. And… it’s a bit odd to say this, but… we sat and had a drink.



He told me he was not there for Athven and Audrey. He seemed… genuinely interested that they were well. He said he had two marks. I worried it was Cornelius and Cordelia.

It was not.



We were attacked by assassins after picking up our three… bounty hunters, actually. One of them was a mage. On them were bounties for Cordelia, Athven, and Audrey._


[REDACTED]

We were aided in our fight by a surprising source – Forester. After he helped us win the fight, he spoke to Athven (as well as Feregh and Tocca), and then… removed a necklace… and died. It seemed he was kept alive by magical means. I sat with Audrey while they buried him.

We returned to the ship in relative silence, and I went to my quarters, changing into clothing that wasn’t quite so… destroyed. I am lucky there are people on this ship that are skilled at mending things.

Athven joined me soon after. He looked more troubled than usual, and said he wanted to talk with me. He recounted his fears and worries, and told me that he didn’t know how to protect Audrey. I… reassured him, I think. That a life trapped on an island under the protection of Croquillo is an emergency option, but that she deserved her freedom. And that… if he was gone, she would miss him terribly. I would too, but I only alluded to that.



He seemed so… I’m not sure. He rested his forehead against mine again and I just… I wanted to hold him close. Tell him that everything would be okay.

The truth is, I don’t know. But I do know that I’ll protect them both. Whatever they are to me, at the very least, they are my crew. I don’t take that lightly.



He fell asleep soon after our discussion- I finally got him out of those awful, bloody pants. I’m going to have one of my shirts and trousers tailored for him. Anything we can do to change his appearance from what was on that poster.

The truth is… I’m sure those three aren’t the only people on my crew that someone wants dead. I might even find myself a target some day. As long as we keep moving, stay strong… we’ll be all right. I can hope for that, at the least.



I suppose I should tell everyone that we are leaving as soon as possible tomorrow morning. As long as we’re restocked and ready, we shouldn’t stay here. We’ve already been found once.

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Captain's Log 5
Oh, hell.

CAPTAIN’S LOG 5



If you write two logs in one day, is it just one log? Should have this been four and a half? 



To hell with it.



I spoke to Francis. Yes, Fart, great idea. Speak to bloody Francis. Smart, tactical, Francis.



He’s told me to stuff myself, in slightly kinder words. I don’t understand it. People are entitled to their secrets, yes, that’s all well and good. But this one involves me, damn it! He’ll pry from me that I’m upset about something, have me talk about it because it upsets the crew! Because I forget things, and I can’t hide my feelings, and it worries the crew and I’m an even worse fecking Captain than I normally am because I’m distracted by bloody emotions .



But as soon as it’s too personal for him, oh, that’s where he draws the line. I want to believe he’s got a good reason. I’m sure he’s got a perfectly logical damned reason. Some solid decision that it’s best I don’t know.

But it’s got to do with me, doesn’t it? I don’t need to know half of the things I’m able to convince people to tell me, but normally it’s because I want to help. I want to help them.



This has to do with me. Don’t I deserve to know?

And yet I don’t know what it is, and he told me to leave.



Fucking hell.

If he’s not going to tell me, so be it. He won’t. I don’t have to be happy about it. I’m going to have a damn drink.



Well, a third. Fourth? Bloody hell.

Am I really such an awful Captain that everyone has to remind me of it all the damned time? Sure, yes, sure. I’ve got things to work on, don’t we all? I’m not the model of damned perfection. I’ve never been good at anything I tried to do. Why would running a ship be any fecking different?



But I didn’t think that… I worried everyone so much. Father always said not to show my cards. Suppose I’ve never been too skilled at a stone face. I’m angry that he’s right.



I’m angry that I don’t know how to change myself.

I’m angry that I have to. But, if this is what the crew needs, who else have I got but them?



Blimey.



Athven woke up and left while I was gone. I wanted to talk to him. I’m changing his contract. It wouldn’t be fair to the others to pay him a full wage, but I want him to have 25% of a usual wage in addition to working for Audrey’s passage. I want him to have something to work with if he ever has to leave._


Not to say I want him to. Whatever we have, it’s… different than anything I’ve had before. I haven’t felt even a bit like this since I was back on Cerule, and even then, I was young and … it was different.



What am I doing, worry about that at a time like this? I’m damn near useless.



I’m not sure who to be angry at, any more. A few more drinks and I won’t have to worry about it.

You know, I wonder why Francis is the way he is. He wasn’t always like this. I know that he stopped coming out to the taverns with Fart and I after what happened with Hazel. I don’t blame him. But what else weighs so heavily on his mind? I may need to reign in my emotions, but he could stand to have a few more.



It wouldn’t be easy to unravel this. He’s locked tighter than a treasury, and I’m still angry at him. If he wants to be that way, he can keep his bloody secrets.



Of course, I can’t help thinking if something’s so serious for him that he’d actually send me away, I want to help more.

But also, he’s a tosser.



I personally like when I can tell something is wrong for someone. It’s one less step to figuring out if I can help.



But, I’ve been trying to be more responsible. Haven’t drunk so much. Haven’t stayed up so late. Kept logs. Checked on the crew members, even added new ones. I.. thought I was doing better.



Suppose I’ve got a long way to go before anyone thinks of me as anything but the spoiled brat who got grandfathered in to first mate and then murdered the Captain.



Bloody hell.

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Captain's Log 6
More of the usual

CAPTAIN’S LOG 6

I didn’t have time to write this log after I woke yesterday due to being preoccupied, or before I slept yesterday, given that I had come off of a twenty four hour shift. It was for good reason, however. Raleigh came down with a fever, and I took her position at the helm. It was good to be back, helped clear my mind. Even if I was a bit hungover.

Perhaps in the future, I’ll take over in between shift change. Even if it’s two or four hours, that’s two or four hours that Garlic and Raleigh wouldn’t have to work. Twelve hour shifts may give time for four hours of free time, but I feel that’s a bit sparse. It wouldn’t hurt to give them a few more.

Perhaps a few more crew members. I plan to keep my eye out for a good second cook. Even with my occasional meddling, Sam is still overworked.

Things are at a sort of resolve with Francis. At the very least, he spoke to me. Said that he felt I was distancing myself. I just told him that… I’ve had a lot to concentrate on. I’m trying my best.

I still trust him to do what’s right for the crew. He’s one of my longest and oldest friends.

Raleigh seems to be better. I’m sure the physical stress combined with obvious emotional factors caught up to her. Still, I worry when people are ill.

Feregh had it covered, though, it seemed.

Tocca, for some reason, has begun wearing clothes. If she’s happy, I’m… glad?

Oh, the ghost. I suppose I haven’t said anything about it. Forester returned to Athven in a dream. Or perhaps in life, we haven’t quite figured that out yet. The first time, he disappeared. That was the night I was drunk. We assembled a few crew members to try and figure out what might have happened, but came up empty.

We did, however, find that my mother’s necklace had some sort of enchantment on it. I’m… intrigued, at least. I never thought it was anything but a beautiful necklace.

The second night, while I was manning the helm, Athven came to me and recounted having seen Forester again. It seems there is something tying him to this world, something Athven found out after being able to communicate with him. It’s… concerning, but we will solve it.

I am not sure what else to say. It hasn’t been the best of weeks.

Audrey read me a story as I went to sleep this morning. It was very sweet. She’s also been informed that she’s Captain, and has ordered more tea, and time for books and naps. I like her plan.

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Captain's Log 7
Shore Leave

Captain’s Log 7

We have been anchored outside of a small island, an unexpected but unavoidable delay. After speaking with the lighthouse keeper, Atinka, we discovered that there is a Kraken passing. It seems we have no choice but to wait – there are some things even the best piloting and the most determination cannot face.

It has given the crew some time to relax. We had some time on the island to enjoy the sudden shore leave, and even ran into a few old friends – those we first encountered on the Myst Fog Isles.

I do think it has given everyone a bit of time to unwind. Given the task at hand, that certainly isn’t a bad thing.

I find myself … preoccupied. With a great many things, arguably more than usual. With the bounty hunters and then Forester’s re-appearance, Athven has been shaken. He once confessed to me that he worries Audrey would be better without him. Of course, just as I told him – she is strong, and she would be protected. But her life would in no means improve on his absence. In fact, everything I have seen says quite the opposite.

It may be a bit late to be reflecting on it, but what is a journal for, if not this?

I suppose he’s been on my mind, lately.

Bloody hell. What am I getting myself into?

He sang. We sat on the beach, and he sang a song that Harmony had played and in that moment, I didn’t think of a single thing. Not even a moment of the worries that I cycle through daily, not a second where I thought something might go wrong.

We were far from alone on the beach, but for a time, I’d forgotten that. I almost kissed him.

What would he have done?

I should know better than to …fall for someone. I’m a Captain. I have duties.

Yet, the way he looked in the dim light of the evening, the way our hands touched…

I don’t know if I can do this.

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Captain's Log 8
A Quick Entry

Captain’s Log 8

The Kraken passed, and some of the crew made fascinating discoveries in the meanwhile. I, myself, discovered that Atinka is the godmother of Taz Dango. Unrelated, I’ve obtained some new reading material.

Speaking of things that may have been dangerous to pass closely to, I got a rather jarring awakening from none other than Lizardo Garzala, who intended to go after Lucy himself. I managed to talk him down, and he will wait three days after we arrive in Brickport. The rush on the timing concerns me, but I’ll take what I can get.

Now, we head North. Raleigh has been having some troubles with her weapon that was gifted to her by Croquillo. I’ve done all I can, for now. I’ve told Feregh to come to me if I am able to help.

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