From the Journal of Lia Danuu O'Bran, (based on the role-play on 10-2-99)

I boarded the Swaying Bough in Avalon. By the time we made it to Manche, the ship's name was the River Mist and Ringer Gutwold was the captain. This is standard procedures for this group, and a type of wariness that I understand and have followed myself when part of the Sea Dogs. The crew's a group of shady characters, but they know their jobs and they can recognize that knowledge in others. I was accepted into the crew in a surprisingly short amount of time.

I've been checking every harbor town we land in, seeing if anyone has seen or heard about my niece. Any Inish I've spoken to have been more than willing to spread the word, I hope I'll hear from one of them soon.

I thought about getting the Explorer's Society involved, but they're harder to find than a leprechaun's gold. Though, I have my suspicions about Mr. Coleson. I don't know of anyone who's so interested in relics and artifacts. If he's not part of the Explorer's Society, then I don't know who would be. The man can be extremely long winded. I wonder if he really knows what he's
talking about half the time.

Captain Gutwold plans on making it to the next harbor town and selling Coleson's cargo. The man hasn't been able to pay for the last leg of his journey to Eisen and the crew is beginning to make complaints. Coleson's desperately trying to find a backer to finance the rest of the voyage. I say, good luck to him.

Other than spreading the word, I hadn't had much luck in getting any hints or leads in locating Bridgit. The harbormaster told us that we couldn't leave until the following day, due to the fact that the Musketeers were searching for a group of desperadoes. Captain Gutwold gave some of us permission to leave the River Mist for some shore leave. I began, what by now has become routine. I started with a few of the harbor shore taverns, speaking with the sailors in town. I need a lead on my niece, and several privateers I knew by reputation agreed to relay the information at their next port-of-call.

I also asked around about the Explorer's Society, but no one I spoke to knew much about the secretive group. I had only slightly more luck when asking about Coleson. Apparently, he is known as a scientist. So, at least I know he really does understand what he blathers on about. Other than that, no one knows much, or they aren't talking.

I finally found myself down a quaint little local tavern known simply as 'The Place'. I sat down with my ale, listening to the gentle swell of conversation around me. Places like this are perfect for learning about a town or culture.

After a few ales, I noticed a group of three men enter the tavern. They were all travel-worn, their clothing dusty and I noticed the telltale signs of recent battle. Although they had stopped for a meal and a drink, they looked like they still had a long way to go. They were an odd group.

The first walked in, his stride firm and confidant. By his rather tattered tartan and the large claymore strapped to his back, I knew him to be from the Highland Marches. The second man strode in. The way he catalogued the occupants of the room told me he was Castillian, they seem to have a dislike for anyone who isn't their own. He hid it well, but he couldn't suppress that first flash of distaste. The third man was a Vodacce. Although with an obvious presence, he remained quieter then the other two, preferring to engage himself in his food and drink. The oldest can’t be more than twenty-three and they all tower over me, even while seated (though that’s no mean feat). The Vodacce and the Castillian had interesting hairstyles. I didn’t say anything, but I thought privately to myself that I hoped they didn’t have to pay their barbers.

Thinking that perhaps they might be in need of a decent map to or of their next location, I went over to their table in the hopes of offering my services. I had no sooner than apologized for disturbing them when the Castillian commented to the Avalon, "Are all of your countrymen so rude?" His friends looked at him puzzled, for he spoke in his native tongue.

"No, but it appears that those from your country are." The startled look on his face when I replied in his own language sent his companions to laughing. They invited me to their table and I spoke with them about perhaps purchasing a map. They admitted that they were traveling, but what they really required was a ship, preferably going northward.

Thinking that mayhap a trip north (with paying customers) might please Gutwold, I offered to take them to the River Mist where they could inquire about passage with the captain. They agreed.

The Castillian had left to sell their horses. I don't think he did very well, no one is willing to pay decent money for horses in the middle of the night. He had returned disgruntled. Oh, well.

The Vodacce had been --- detained by another gentleman. (Most violently, I must add. No-one was particularly happy to see this man.) The two went back into the tavern to discuss their business, while the Avalon and I settled in to await his two companions before returning to the ship. (I asked him if things were always this exciting around them and he just shrugged helplessly.) Captain Gutwold agreed to being hired out, on the condition that the Avalon and the Castillian helped out. (I got 20 guilders out of the whole deal.) They've both had previous sailing experience and seem competent. The Vodacce on the other hand preferred to stay out of the way.

We were about to set sail the next morning when Coleson returned. He was extremely agitated, especially since Gutwold admitted to his plans to sell the cargo. The Avalon made an arrangement with the captain to allow Coleson to continue the voyage to Eisen. Something about fellow countrymen watching out for one another. Also that the cargo would be worth far more to Coleson's initial benefactor than what Gutwold could get on the open market (possibly even on the black market). Gutwold agreed but only on the condition that Coleson now work for his passage. The indignant scientist has now been regulated to cabin boy. He was charged with leveling out the cargo so that the River Mist would be able to make evasive maneuvers if necessary.

As we shoved off, a group of Musketeers rushed down the docks screaming for us to stop; some nonsense about murderers on board. Those that heard snickered. They aren't a very scrupulous group, other than their dedication to the captains. Gutwold pretended he couldn't hear, and we were able to slip out of the harbor with very little fuss. (Though a few patches are going to be needed on the sails.)

Once far enough away, the crew made some changes to the ship, changing her lines. Figurehead was changed, the name was changed, the charter was burned and other one writ up, and Gutwold stepped down as captain, while the first mate then took on that mantle.

While in Castillian waters, we encountered a Castillian warship. They planned to board us and take inventory of our cargo, so that they could collect their taxes. Coleson was frantic, his items were undeclared and no-one had the money needed to buy off the guards. The Captain did the only thing he could, he ordered the cargo to be shifted in the hold for maximum maneuvers, then had the two cannons set together and primed. Once it was obvious that we weren’t going to be able to keep the Castillians from boarding (my idea about pretending we were sick was a good one, but came too late), the Captain had us fire our cannons.

In the end, we won, but just barely. We had lost some good men, almost lost a cannon, and had a mast taken out, but we were able to limp away, which was more than the Castillians could say. We’ve located a small, hidden cove where we can make repairs and heal a bit.

I pray we make it to Eisen without any more of these "encounters". I don’t know how much of this the ship can take. In the meantime, I guess I’ll see about learning more about our new employers. It ought to be fascinating.

--Lia Danuu O'Bran