Shoal of the Reef

ACT I: Humble Beginnings

“...No matter how good a story, there are some things you need to see for yourself.…”

- Shoal of the Reef.

Life on the Reef:

On Volvaga Isle of the Obsidian Isles, far below its jagged black monolith and the acrid plume billowing from its center, there lies a small, old tabaxi fishing village along the inner cove.  By our stories, Whaea, the great mother, adrift in stormy seas, was washed up on those black shores and saved by Volvaga’s bounty.  The land bears many fruit trees and some small birds, but the real treasure is in its waters.  The long crescent isle encompasses a deep, magnificent Reef.  A vibrant world of colour, even just in its shades of purple, the Reef has more hues than all other colours you have ever seen.  By night, all is made more beautiful by the water’s eerie glow.  Mercifully, the barricades of black spires encircling the isle help calm the crystal clear waters of the Reef from the raging waters of the surrounding oceans. 

A year round paradise, the only factors we cared about were the daylight and the tides.  During low tide, we gathered exposed mollusks along the rocks.  During high tide, we set out in small skiffs to fish along the Reefs.  Smaller fish were hunted by net, but larger fish were hunted underwater by spear or sling spear.  Besides fishing, we either dove and dredged for rare minerals or spent our day in the village preparing food, watching the waves, and sleeping life away.

The pinnacle of fishing for us was also the last day of our childhood, our Urdothan.  It is a rite of passage into adulthood where, at 10 years of age, a cub by spear is to hunt a great gar.  While being fiercely territorial, 10 feet long, and 200 pound sea monsters, the hunting of great gar is quite simple.  They are so aggressive, that once you approach their den, a great gar will mindlessly charge you, or anything else that gets too close.  With a steady spear and steadier nerves, it is a simple matter to get the gar to impale itself upon your spear.  In reality, I froze during my Urdothan.  I saw it charge out, I blinked, and there it was halfway down my spear.  I was just lucky that the massive great gar I hunted tried eating my spear first - but I digress.

            Besides fish, there was an abundance of rare minerals, gold, onyx, and obsidian in the depths along the bottom of the Reef which attracted merchant sailors during the dry seasons.  Lucky for the village, most merchants aren’t strong swimmers.  Lucky for them, their goods couldn’t be speared or dredged.  This trade in our village was restricted to our elders.  Knowing what I know now, they sold themselves short, trading nuggets of gold for common wares. However, it kept relations with Merchant vessels friendly and frequent.  Had we demanded too steep a price, or had they known the depth of bounty under the Reef, who knows what trouble would find its way to our sleepy village. 

Whenever a vessel came, we would trade under the sun, and feast under the moon.  I loved hanging around the fires those nights to listen to sailors stories - the ones my father would let me hear anyway.  Those stories captivated me: the faraway lands might as well have been in a different world altogether, and the wild, colourful tales of lives lived dangerously made ours seem so pale and small.  It made me want to see the wonders of the world for myself, to live life dangerously, and someday share my story back home.  Finding a nugget of gold while spear fishing, I was able to bribe my way onto the Bronze Seraph as a deckhand.

My Family:

i) Crag over the Cove

Crag is my father (single parent) and my early life primary role model.  Stockier than me, with golden leopard colouring, he was the rock of our family.  He taught me in the traditions of our village, primarily fishing, traditional crafts, and our histories.  He lived a quiet, traditional life as his father before him.  He was reserved, respected, and, while understanding my wanderlust, wanted nothing more for me to continue in his footsteps.  We were close, but, as I grew older, we grew further apart.  My dispassion for our traditional life, and my lack of gifts from the Moon and Sun, put a bitter distance between us. 

Our goodbye was short.  I had arranged a place for me on the Bronze Seraph by bribing the quartermaster, Ishma, with a finch egg sized nugget of gold.  While trying to sneak out of my old life with the ship at dawn, there Crag stood at the dock, looking off into the horizon.

“So, not even a word, Shoal?”  His voice was strained and tightly controlled.  I could feel the disappointment in his eyes burning through the back of his head.

“Ahh, well, you know ...  I thought you would … are you here to stop me?” My voice on the verge of cracking; my heart halfway up my throat.

“No.  All your life, I have tried to guide you on the Path our forefathers carved for us, but that Path is not yours.  Nothing will bring you to your senses it would seem.”

“It’s not -” He cut me off with a raised hand.

“Your Mother, Delta, didn’t drown: she left.  She came here as an orphaned, mewling cub, and she left shortly after you were born.  It’s her curiosity that gnaws at your mind, son.  It took her from us, and now it takes you.”  He turned, meeting my gaze with a stony face, and sorrowful eyes.  “Since you don’t have the stomach for it, I will tell Light for you. That this - your home, your family, your life - wasn’t enough.  I hoped she would never have to know that pain again.  Delta never came back, and I don’t expect you will either.”

Stunned, I stood in silence with misty eyes, and one hand clutching my Mother’s coin pendant.  What!? And they knew, they all knew.  Why didn’t anyone ever tell me.  What did they think I would do?  My dilemma induced stupor was interrupted by a hand on my shoulder and an obsidian dagger in my other hand.

“Take care, Shoal.  It’s a big world out there on your own.  May the Sun and Moon light your way.”  Then he left me, standing still in the moon's last light with the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Alone, delaying the inevitable, I inspected the dagger in silence.  The dagger, while imperfectly made in our traditional style, is a masterpiece.  The blade was knapped to a razor's edge and polished to a mirror’s sheen.  A small golden disk, engraved with a crescent moon and sun, made up the crossguard. The grip, wrapped in fine black stingray leather, practically melted into my palm.  Below that, even more rare than gold, was a large round onyx pommel: a princely gift for a wayward son.  I don’t know how long it took Crag to make, but, when I return, I will bring him a gift fit for a king.

 Then I took those ten short steps away from everything I had known with dreams of one day returning, bearing gifts and stories of the wonders of the world, and to look him in the eye with pride.

ii) Light from the Mountain

Light is my big adult sis, a paragon of tradition, and a Sun touched prodigy as foretold with her crimson fur.  Her ability to control sources of fire is unrivaled in stark contrast to me, who is untouched by Sun or Moon.  We, like most siblings, deeply cared for each other and competed just as fiercely. She never let me forget that I wasn’t gifted, and more than once tried to awaken some gift by duress.  Constantly in her shadow, I obsessively honed the skills I could to expertise I could be proud of.  However: Without magic, I would never be the best in the village amongst fishermen, but I pulled my weight and more even so.  It didn’t matter, nothing did.  Light would always be my father’s pride, and I would always be a secondary character in our family’s story.

iii) Delta, my wayward mother

            I never knew my mother.  As a cub, they told me she was pulled out of the Reef by a riptide, smashed and drowned by the jagged spires in the raging waters surrounding the isle.

Knowing she abandoned us - abandoned me - part of me hopes to meet her someday; part of me wishes I could forget she exists.

“...even in just shades of purple, the Reef has more hues than all other colours you have ever seen…” - Shoal of the Reef.

Act II - Sailing the 5 Great Oceans:

“...Looking back, I was a hard working, goofy cub, and I was something of a mascot…” - Shoal of the Bronze Seraph

Life on the Bronze Seraph:

On the ship, I saw life along the coast many countries away from home.  It was waves of revelations crashing after one another.  The cultures, the life experiences, and diversity of the world was unending: no two places were exactly alike, and, on leave, I would try and see what I could.  As a modest deckhand, my pay would soon dry up, and back to the sea we would go.  A 3 masted bark (barque), the merchant vessel could carry a fair bit of cargo while quicker than other vessels her size.  Given the risk of pirates, we tended to stay on protected trade routes as lawful merchant vessels do.  Even so, we had a small stockpile of arms under the quartermasters care just in case.

There was always work to be done.  I started as a deckhand doing whatever I was told to: running supplies, swabbing decks, and anything else that required little skill.  After getting my bearings, they usually tossed me on the nightshift skeleton crew due to my keen vision.  It wasn’t that I was disliked, much to the contrary in fact.  After working hard, they ate with me, shared their stories, and gave me pointers from time to time.  A few would even indulge me with some fencing, although I think they could have been a little softer with their blows.  Looking back, I was a hard working, goofy cub, and I was something of a mascot keeping up the morale.

That was until one dark and stormy night.  I woke to the sound of thunderous cracking, sailors stampeding, and Captain Bekkr’s booming voice.  Once on deck, I saw Bricka, one of our riggers, was trapped up a broken mast, ensnared by ropes that threatened to squeeze the life from her.  Given the break, there was no easy path up to her.  However, with my natural gifts for climbing, I was able to ascend quickly and cut her free to safety.  As usual, I had no idea what I was doing, but the luck of the moon was on my side.  Even so, after getting Bricka to the deck, the extent of her injuries became apparent.  Needing a replacement, the Captain saw some potential in me and promoted me to rigger on the spot.

“...Thank you, Shoal.  It seems we may have a use for your talents afterall, Rigger...”

-       Captain Bekker

The Crew:

i) Captain - Adrian Bekker

            If one thing defined Captain Bekker, it was his commanding presence: when he spoke, others listened.  A tall, robust man with wild black hair and deep set black eyes, his crew followed orders to the letter.  It was not a thing of fear or violence: it was respect.  Despite his middling age, his experience was beyond repute.  His steady hand kept us righted in the most turbulent of times with his steely eyed charm whether striking a critical deal, deterring pirates, or any of the seas many dangers.

            I’m uncertain of his life story, particularly how he came to captain the Bronze Seraph, as rumours among deckhands change faster than the wind.  Some say he served admirably in the Navy (whose Navy, they didn’t say), was discharged dishonorably along with his ship.  Some say he is the wayward son of a noble family, and that Bekker isn’t his family name.  Some say, he made his money by turning the tables on a Thieves guild, and has been looking over his shoulder ever since.  Whatever the case, he didn’t strike me as a man with a shadow on his shoulder, but he always kept his eyes to the horizon.

ii) Quartermaster - Ishma

            A powerfully built, stocky dwarf, everything Ishma did was for Captain Bekker and the Bronze Seraph.  I never got the story there, but Ishma will be loyal to the Captain until the end of days.  Stern as a quartermaster should be, she had patience enough for me.  She was who I bribed to get onto the Bronze Seraph, and she made sure that I was pointed in the right direction.  It’s thanks to her I got my bearings as quickly as I did.

iii) Rigger - Bricka

            Bricka was a very dextrous halfling that was phenomenal with knots.  She trained me how to be a Rigger after her untimely injury.  I never could move my hands quite as fast as her, but I made up for it in my ability to scale the masts.  A capricious, sarcastic sort, she would compliment my growth with one hand a slap me in the face with the other.  I miss her, and I hope her leg gets better soon.

iv) Bosun (Boatswain) - Ferdinand (Ferdi) Galarde

            A perpetually joyous half elf with short, neat blonde hair, Bosun Ferdi was the least stern amongst the Bronze Seraph brass, but he was a genius when it came to running a ship.  Everything from inventory, organising work, overseeing, and more - he was the ideal Bosun.  He also was pretty nifty with a blade.  After quite a bit of pestering, and winning a wager, he trained me to fence from time to time.  He even smiled as he left welts with the flat of his rapier.  Through his tutelage, I learned how to make the most out of my speed, to feint to make my openings, and how best to strike once I do.

Act III - Making Waves

“...It’s not how much you win that’s the problem: it’s how much you lose...”

-       Shoal

If the Seas Don’t Kill You…

Rigging was dangerous, high wire work, and I loved every minute of it.  Well, at least when it wasn’t raining.  The job is hard enough when the masts aren’t slicker than a seal, but it beats being little more than a cabin boy.  Regardless, a rigger’s danger came with a rigger’s pay, and all new avenues of life to explore.  Among them, none were quite so addictive as gambling.  I kept my revelry to myself, as I did not want to draw Ishma’s ire.  “If the Seas don’t kill you, vices will,” she says.  I never knew if she meant that as there is no retiring from life at sea, or if time on leave is as dangerous as it is on the seas.  Of course, I learned the hard way.

            The winnings dry up, and the debts pile up.  Eventually, I started getting threats from the wrong sorts of people.  The worst of it came in a larger port where some thugs cracked my ribs with a club - barbarians - all over a little misunderstanding.  Was I cheating?  Maybe, but how could they have known.  Regardless, I was just treading water.  Sooner than later, my wages wouldn’t keep up with my losses.  That is when they came.

            I was approached by two non-descript men of average height, age, and faces with a less than average proposal.  They, Falco and Wolfe of the Jackdaws thieves guild, needed to get a few crates onto a ship, and they needed that ship’s manifesto to have that cargo on it.  For 100 gp, and assurances they would deal with some of my troubles with locals, how could I refuse.  No one at the docks bats an eye at another dockhand running about.  At first, it seemed to be another stroke of luck.  My debts were paid, revelry was to be had, and, for the first time in months, my head was above water.

            Of course, as the stars would have it, there is always a catch.  The jobs kept coming, some small, some a little larger.  Before long I was dealing directly with smugglers by moonlight against my better judgment.  That is when they started pulling in their hooks.  A couple letters, rumours and hard evidence of all my misdeeds, and how they were snagging them to the Bronze Seraph.  My quiet side job that paid for my hobbies had come home to roost, and it was going to drown us all.  Their net was snug, but it hinged upon me as their fall guy.  I had to leave.

            Without a good-bye, I left a small letter with Ishma.  It detailed that I had to leave, and to be wary of the Jackdaws.  I had stolen back some of the evidence against us, and found myself feeling a dreadful deja vu.  For the second time, I arranged passage with another merchant vessel, and planned to skip town in the middle of the night.  For a second time, someone was waiting for me.  In leathers black as sin, he twirled a dagger between his fingers.

            “Tssk, tssk … after all I’ve done for you, and this is how you repay me.  My prize fool thinks himself more clever than the average cub.  I’m insulted, hurt that you think you could get away from me.”  Falco’s words were playful, but his eyes were murderous.  “Turn around, and let's take a walk, shall we?

            This was the end.  I knew in my bones that Falco was leading this cub to slaughter.  If not today, very soon the Bronze Seraph would find itself enthralled by these men or worse.  I had to do something, but, even so, I felt nothing but terror.  That wouldn’t do. 

So, in spite of the pounding in my chest, I imagined myself a prize duelist, and put on a face of intrepid bravado.  Snarling, I quickly pulled and feinted with my obsidian dagger to make an opening to escape.  Falco was no novice, and he began to counter with his dagger aimed up below my ribs at my heart.  Without thought, the movements Ferdi taught me took over.  I snatched his wrist with one hand, and I slit his throat with the other.

            I had never seen a man die before.  It was not a quick, decisive victory like the stories say.  Slowly, with a gaze as intimate as lovers, I watched as Falco’s eyes widened in shock as the despair of death entered his heart.  Staggering, his hands gripped his throat, blood oozing past his fingers in waves as he tried gurgling for a breath.  Soon enough, he was on his knees as the gurgling became a wet, sucking wheeze; his black leathers and the ground slick with crimson; and then he was nothing. 

I’m not sure how long I stared at him kneeling there, but once the weight of it hit me, in an instant the moment crystallized in my mind.  That is when I puked on a nearby wall, and made way to the ship I had chartered.  It would be a few months that I did nothing but hop from ship to ship, either stowing away or trading work to get as far as I could from my old life.  The memory of his death burned into my dreams.

            I have no idea what became of anything from my second life.  I destroyed the documents I stole from the Jackdaws, so I hope that the Bronze Seraph escaped their clutches.  A continent away, I finally feel like I can breathe in peace again despite having to watch over my shoulder.  At any rate, I can’t live the rest of my life in gloom, so a distraction is in order.  I heard of a festival a short trip away in the port of Lochtale.  With the luck of the Moon on my side, I am sure the stars will start the story of my third life from there.

And there you have it Miranda.  A batch of names, bonds, and people crossed.  More bullets for the gun at any rate.  Let me know if you want anything more or cleared up.

Cheers,

Senior Spice

Shoal of the Reef

“...To me, the end of one story is just as often the beginning of another...”

-       Shoal of the Coast