We sailed for another day, sprayed by the sea through the gaping hole in the hull, before arriving in a small harbor on a peninsula guarded by the fort known as Watch's End. We were unchained from the wall—though not from one another—and fitted with additional balls and chains, apparently in case any of us felt tempted to jump into the ocean. Carrying the balls made the rope ladder down to the rowboats dicey, especially since they didn’t have Snuki-sized balls. In fact, the balls and Snuki’s head were about the same size.
Snuki slipped, but Wilfram (spelling confirmed!) caught them. When asked, no one is actually sure of Snuki’s gender. Snuki was very excited to be in the rowboat and has now been introduced to the concept of someone else rowing for you.
On shore, we were handed over to the island guard, known as the Iron Watch, whose banner is a black fist clutching chains on a yellow field. We were processed and given numbers—Snuki even got back in line to try to get more numbers, and somehow ended up with a “6,” which was relayed verbally by the guards. We did not have a good feeling about any of this.
We were searched thoroughly again and somehow issued even worse clothing. Vivenna insists it takes actual talent to make clothes loose in all the wrong places and tight in all the wrong places. At the end of the line, the guards moved to strap Snuki to a cross for his “six” lashes, but the garrison commander—a leonin—intervened and scolded his guards for handing out undeserved punishments. A good sign, maybe.
Our numbers were then branded onto our necks. Vivenna persuaded them to brand her on the opposite side from her exploding implant, on the off chance a brand could set it off. After branding, they quite literally dumped us onto the prison side of the island via a giant stone slide.
When we were issued our numbers, Wilfram decided he would call Vivenna “One” (since she was first in line), which made him “Two” and Snuki “Three.” These nicknames might stick.
We chose not to walk straight to the shanty town visible nearby. Instead, we walked along the shoreline so Snuki could collect pebbles and find a good stick (their spell components). Along the way, we found the spot where the imperial intelligence officer said our gear would be dropped off later. We also saw some locals fishing who were not wearing prison-issue clothing—worn clothes, yes, but not prison ones.
Snuki spoke draconic with the lizardfolk, a conversation Vivenna understood but pretended she didn’t. She nearly gave herself away when Snuki asked why they let a halfling fish with them and the lizardfolk claimed he was their slave—which, to Vivenna, was obviously a lie. The lizardfolk told us we could get fishing gear in Droptown, the nearby shanty town, so we headed that way.
On the path, we met a young half-orc with a wizened donkey and a cart with a broken wheel. Wilfram, being handy, immediately saw the problem and explained how to fix it. The half-orc introduced himself as Tracks. He was very friendly and had no brand; he explained he was Chainborn meaning he was born on the island. Indeed, Droptown seemed to have children of all ages mixed in with the adults—fewer than in a mainland settlement, but still noticeable.
Tracks offered Wilfram a taxi ride as payment for his help. Wilfram asked how people paid for things on the island, and Trax gave us a friendly tutorial on the barter system: favors, IOUs, food, and water—fresh water being highly controlled by the gangs. When Snuki asked about string, Tracks gave him a bit of twine. This worried Wilfram, who questioned Tracks at length about the value of the string and what they could give in return. Tracks eventually construed it as worth a favor (“It’s not a lot of string, it’s not even worth a fish.” “You could owe me a favor, like killing someone.”). Vivenna recalibrated her mental ledger at this point to put fish above murder-for-hire.
Tracks explained the local gang landscape. Some people, like him and Friar Alberto (a harmless missionary of the Holy Family left alone by the gangs), were unaffiliated. But most belonged to one of four gangs:
- The Cindercrew, currently leaderless and in turmoil
- The Reapers, led by Boss Voss; they include a “small, smart, beardless person” and twin drow named Silk and Shroud
- Hawkhurst Gang, run by the celebrity brigand Thomas Kingsmill
- The Covenant, definitely a cult, run by the Bishop
We had to explain to Tracks what a cult was to confirm the Covenant counted: “Sort of like a religion, but icky. Usually controlled by one person. Very scary, very dangerous.”
Vivenna asked where we should eat in Droptown, and Tracks recommended Col Plump’s, a tavern offering a newcomer’s special: one free meal in exchange for dish duty. As we were awkwardly continuing in the same direction as Track and his taxi, Snuki announced, “Snuki is a cult!” Vivenna simply replied, “Yes, dear.”
Droptown was a bustling shanty town built from scavenged materials. There was even a band of buskers playing rough instruments, and people tipped them with food and nails. A halfling approached us offering fried potatoes and water—Vivenna politely avoided accepting anything—while recruiting for the Covenant. She learned that the Bishop was human (if someone who has “seen the face of the gods” still counts as human), that the Covenant was only four years old, and that it already controlled much of the northern part of the island. The halfling was rapturous when he spoke about the Bishop. It was very icky.
Snuki successfully stole food from the table. The Hawkhurst gang also had a recruitment table, staffed by a human named Arthur who gave us a “come audition because you might not survive the night” pitch that came off more sinister than he likely intended—at least to Wilfram. The halfling also offered us a safe place to spend the night if we wanted to hear more about the Covenant. Tracks had warned us that most newcomers didn’t survive the first night because of monsters, prisoners, and undead.
At Col Plump’s, we found glass windows—sort of—made by filling wall frames with collected glass fishing buoys, which created a beautiful effect. Inside, the tavern was bustling with all sorts of races, basically anything medium-sized or smaller. Two drow females wearing armor marked with a skull and scythe sat nearby. Being half-drow, Vivenna noticed them immediately and then made sure to never look in their direction again.
The fattest dwarf we had ever seen stood behind the bar and cheerfully served us the newcomer’s special—simple food, but good, and importantly without maggots. While we ate, we noticed the big man from our prison ship—the one who survived the sahuagin attack and had Imperial Legion tattoos—also eating here.
A lavender tiefling woman entered, acknowledged the drow twins, then noticed us and went over to speak with the soldier. She flirted with him and passed him a small package, which Snuki alone noticed. Then she approached our table and introduced herself as Muse.
Muse asked if we were new to the island. Vivenna answered with dry sarcasm. Muse then asked if she was obvious as a Reaper; Vivenna said she had “that glow.” Muse surprised herself by reacting to this.
Muse asked whether we had a safe place to stay and offered one. Vivenna asked what the job was. Muse explained that giant crabs had absconded with Boss Voss’s chest, and she wanted it recovered. If Vivenna was who Muse thought she was, the crabs would be no problem, and she might find a home with the Reapers. Vivenna did not ask who Muse thought she was. She did ask whether her race would be a problem. Muse said race didn’t matter here—there were too few choices on the island for anyone to care.
We negotiated for weapons for the job. Muse said we could keep anything we found except the chest—so crab was on the menu, and the loot was ours. She would bring the weapons after we finished dish duty for the Col, who apparently placed a bounty of a free meal on the heads of anyone who skipped dish duty.
Wilfram suggested recruiting the soldier to help. Muse agreed. Vivenna asked her impression of him; Muse said, “Lonely.” Both Vivenna and Wilfram knew that being from the Third Legion meant he was probably a veteran.
After eating, Vivenna sat near the soldier and struck up conversation, bonding over surviving the sahuagin. She asked if he had a safe place for the night or would be interested in a job for one. He didn’t, and he was. He was eating a regular meal instead of the newcomer’s special—odd. He was straightforward. He introduced himself as Nico.
While Nico and Vivenna talked, Snuki—stealth rolls above 20—crawled around under the table and stole the small package Muse had given Nico. It was about the size of a mini candy bar. Snuki sniffed and licked it, gaining a heady zing. The table collectively groaned. Snuki then robbed everyone at the table: a fishing kid, a dagger, a flask, and a roll of paper, all of which went into Snuki’s mouth, since our clothing had no pockets.
Afterward, we washed dishes. Vivenna asked Wilfram to teach her, as she had never done dishes before. He was shocked but complied.
“You’ve never had KP duty?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
Snuki tried to steal spoons, but the Col caught him, and Vivenna attempted to lay down rules about when it was appropriate to steal spoons. Results uncertain.
The Col didn’t make us wash all the dishes for the night, so we were released, collected Nico, and followed Muse's directions to the spot where the crabs had killed her people and stolen the chest. We tracked the crabs to a small cave, and that’s where we left off.