Aboard the Star of Nostro

The sounds of waves and the smell of salty air peels you away from the torpor of sleep. Fighting a headache and a stiff back, you open your eyes just wide enough to realize you’ve been chained to a pole deep in hull of the sailing ship The Star of Nostro.

Your last memory was sharing a goodbye dinner your neighbors, the ship’s captain Kristene de Keradel, her consort Stone Dahut, and the ship’s crew. You were all celebrating your last night on your island home before departing to seek a better life working in the copper mines of Lys, where the promise of wealth and opportunity awaited. The crew even tattooed several of you during the celebrations.

After your eyes adjust to the dark, you realize you are bound to a wooden pole with 2 others—three-to-a-pole—by a rusty chain shackled on your wrist.

To add to your misery is the gagging odor of rot and dank earth. The source of the earthy smell is not obvious, but it’s easy to spot what reeks of decay: over half of the passengers—aspirational miners like yourself and similarly shackled—are starting to burst from the bloat of death.

Suddenly, someone shrieks out in terror. Turning towards the noise, you see one of your shackled neighbors struggling against a small black dragon! With a quick snap of its jaws, the dragon completely severs the man’s hand, ending his mining career in a single bite. As you struggle against your chain, several more of the vicious creatures approach.

Bryson awakes with a jump as the man’s scream fills the cabin below. Groggy, but heart pumping with sudden adrenaline, he takes in the scene. Out of the gloom, serpentine… reptilian figures begin to poke at those below.

To his side he sees the figure of Gryff the Elder. How had he ended up bound to the old moneylender? No matter…

Seeing the lizards come forth, the man rips his hands free of the rusted shackles, and clambers away.

Gryff the Elder looks on as Bryson finally wakes. The moneylender nods to the baker, and raises his shackled hands to show their shared misery. The scream didn’t bother Gryff. He’d heard enough wailing and gnashing of teeth today to steel himself against it now.

Still, he’s not one to wait for death, and when Bryson lifts their shared beam to break free, Gryff watches on and copies the movement almost exactly. Once free, he steps towards the baker, away from the lizards, eager to have strength in numbers.

Eggo sniffs deep, smelling every bit of the blood and bone and rot and bloat. And then the somewhat familiar scent of scaled bodies. Ones that walk on all fours, though. No lovers of the two-footed, and especially not a runt like Eggo. He coughs, in a hoarse, reptilian way, as the musty air seeps into him.

He feels them pressing in around him; licking their lips at the quick snack that he would make. He pulls against his chains, scratching his foot claws into the wet wood of the cabin below. He pulls again. Nothing. He sits there, chain clattering against the floor, announcing his helpless presence.

Merilda watches as the creature, Eggo, tries to free himself.

Pitiful, contemptible creature… she thinks dryly as the thing is unable to free himself. But not her. Her instructor had trained her for this very occasion.

Get captured and have father pay a ransom? No, no, no…

With a strained effort, she fights against the chains, until they finally give way and snap. She looks again at the pitiful thing, Eggo, wondering if she ought to help the thing. But the creatures are advancing.

Baldwin is first to awake in his row. Ah, the stage was set for his new role in this drama the playwrights called "Copper Miner!" They had convinced Baldwin this was the biggest part in dramatic history, and he knew it to be true because they wouldn't have asked Baldwin to perform any lesser role, for so great was his talent.

Looking about, he couldn't believe how realistic the set was. Those bodies even smelled dead! Very positive for a method actor like himself to get into character. He hadn't received a script yet (not that he remembered anyway) but this theatre seemed very experimental. Cutting edge.

When the black dragon appeared, tearing apart the screaming man, Baldwin winced. That actor was nearly as good as he! He almost believed he was being torn to pieces. Incredible realism.

This kind of avante garde theatre required him to think fast, and fortunately for Baldwin, this was his specialty. Improvisation was the best kind of visation, he always said. And so he took on the role of the young hero, at the start of his journey. What would a young hero do? Why, break free of these bonds! He flexed his manly muscles and mightily tugged at the chain restraining him, while rousing his fellow seat-mates.

"Rise and shine, my friends! Come with me if you want to live!"

Longfoot awakens to Baldwin's loud voice and sound of the hapless victim victim being torn to pieces. No words come to mind, only a desperate, primal need to get as far away from here as possible. He turns to run but is snapped back by the chain, which he then begins to try frantically to wiggle free from.

"Fuckfuckfuck!" is mostly what is coming out of his mouth.

Sandra wakes up in a similar desperate fashion. The Halfling latches on to the big, handsome Baldwin who is wrestling his chains. She follows his lead unquestioningly, and similarly writhes to get free.

"I do want to live!" she says, pathetically.

Joseph wakes up in a similar manner to Longfoot and Sandra, and likewise panics. Breaking chains is a lot harder than breaking wood, so he hops on the bench and leans back, hoping his body weight will break the bolt out of the wooden floor.

"Hgggnnn! he goans.

The baby dragon-like creatures advance on the party as you struggle to get free. Three of the creatures attack some poor souls who hadn't even woken up. At least they die unaware as their torsos are chewed into and they quietly bleed out. The sounds of ripping flesh don't last long and they are drowned out by your shouts, screams, and the breaking of many rusty chains. Two more dark forms dart toward the elderly Gryff and the shapely Belamina.

Anyone looking around sees that the carnage within the cramped berth is horrific. Some of the chained passengers are disemboweled, while others have bled out from a missing hand or foot. The entire area reeks of death and a strange, earthy musk.

Among the dead are two of the crew judging by their clothes and tattoos. Their faces are covered with cloth masks resembling large bird beaks. They are slumped on top of a coffin-sized box in the center of the berthing. Their hands are gripped to the lid of the box in their death pose, and their swords remain sheathed
at their sides.

A narrow ladder leads to the deck above. There are two large cargo hatches, one overhead and one in the deck. Only two lanterns are lit and hanging from hooks on two of the columns you were bound to leaving the far ends of the room shrouded in gloom and giving everyone nearby frighteningly distorted shadows.

Gryff the Elder sidesteps the attack from the dragon, though just barely. His heart almost jumps out of his throat. He turns to the baker behind him, and says:

"Help me, lad!" and jingles the chain, to indicate the plan.

Bryson nods, understanding the need for haste and action. He readies a strike of his own.

In unison, they strike out with their chains.