The price of Greed

1027 AZ

Early afternoon, the second of Hunters Moon

The wind had been picking up slow but steady all day. The Jane-Bonnie's bow was dancing on the waves, cruising through a lonely corner of the ocean. The old gal had been in service for well over 4 decades. The three masts, lower hull and rudder assembly, were in halfway decent state. Many non-essentials however were in a state of disrepair. The railings were fixed with tree limbs and driftwood, the Sails littered with patches of various fabrics available at the time and the metalwork had surface rust flaking off.

Nonetheless, seaworthy she was. Bracing wind, waves and storms like she had for all her years.

The Sailors on deck went through the motions of their shift. Scrubbing the deck, checking the ropes and some just trying to look busy.

The furrowed sails on the towering masts bellowed out in the gusts, pushing her bow steady forward.

A nimble young man with short blonde hair kept watch in the crown nest. His brown eyes scanned the horizon, with an old rusty spyglass in hand.

A middle aged, balding sailor stood on the quarterdeck manning the helm. A bulky man in once decent, now patched and dirty clothing leaned at the railing next to him. His voluminous brown beard swayed in the wind, his large hat kept the sun out of his eyes. A stoic look had settled on his face, masking his impatience and boredom.

Another sailor, tall, beardless, with a black ponytail, came up the stairs.

"Captain."

The Captain stood up and adjusted his hat.

"Mr. Angelo, how's things?"

"We're done with inventory. Supplies should last another day, two at most before we have to sail back."

"The crew?"

"They're getting restless and tired of the wait, but I doubt they'll complain as long as there's grog and rum."

"I'm with 'em on that. We wait for tomorrow, 'they don't show till eve, we set course for Hotencia"

The Helmsman chimed in.

"We might be better returning sooner." He pointed to some dark clouds on the horizon. "If the wind turns, the Tempest will come for us."

"Well you better pray to her so she don't then Mr. Johnston!" The Captain chuckled.

The Helmsman let out a sight.

"Take a joke, just keep an eye on it and holler if things turn to worse"

"Aye", the helmsmen replied.

The Captain turned to the other Sailor.

"Mr. Angelo, you up for a game? I'm bored out o' my mind."

"Well its the boatswains curse to entertain the captain ain't it?"

"You're as bored as me, let's go"

The boatswain laughs "Aye aye"

The Captain turned to the Helmsmen. "Keep the fools in line up here"

Johnston rolled his eyes and replied with a dry "aye"

They went down the stars and into the Captain’s cabin.

The dim light coming through the stained glass windows in the back greeted the two to the sparsely furnished cabin. Just A cot in the corner, a large desk in front of the windows with a compartment for documents and maps below. Some shelving and cupboards lined the starboard wall. Fixed to the floor was a small dining table, surrounded by a couple of stairs. Empty bottles and tankards remained from the night before.

The Boatswain and captain cleared the table. Angelo brought over a hinged wooden case from one of the shelves, containing the chess pieces. The case unfolded revealing the board on the inside. Angelo set up the game, while the captain brought a fresh bottle of rum.

They toasted, took a swig, and Angelo opened with his white pawn.

"Do you think he fleeced us Henric?"

The Captain looked up.

"If he did he better not be at Hotencia when we get back"

"I'm surprised you even took him up on it, with how the whole matter presented itself."

"I'd usually agree with you on that, and you may end up being right."

"But?" Angelo asked.

"Devil's in the details...."

3 weeks earlier, 11th Tempest Moon, early afternoon, Island of Hotencia

The Island of Hotencia, a nest for piracy, smuggling and all manner of criminal activity.

Most navies ignore the island, since it’s far off any claimed coast, and far off most trade routes. Most buildings surround the port. Condemned shipwrights offer their services to keep the debauching ships afloat with what little they have. Taverns and inns are scattered all over town, as the sailors on shore leave are the biggest source of income in town.

Captain. Bragnar, Mr. Angelo and Mr. Johnston were lounging at a round table in the Cod's Bone tavern, ale mugs in hand.

Cod's Bone was a small tavern. Owned by an old Normehrfolk. Rumour had it he was a pirate in his youth. According to the stories, he raided the wrong ship, losing most of his loot and crew. He never got back into the game, pulled together what gold he had to open the Tavern and now boozed up the younger generations.

Half a dozen tables with room for six to eight drunkards each made up the main room. A sturdy dark hardwood bar stood tall close to the back wall. Affixed above was a large ships wheel, as rumour had it from the barkeeps old ship. Adorning the remaining walls were varying odds and ends, from ships mooring hooks and utensils, mosaics made from old glass windows, to a few crude oil paintings and a large cod mounted above the entrance. A couple of wall sconces with candles and a makeshift chandelier built from a rusty anchor doused the place in gloomy but also strangely cosy light.

Angelo finished off his drink.

"Boshcov bring me another would you?"

The Barkeep replied

"Mr. Johnston? Mr. Bragnar?"

Henric and the Helmsman downed the rest of their drinks.

"Another! Aye!"

"Comin right up".

Boshcov had murky green scaly skin and dark blueish green hair. Three scars decorated his left cheek, claw marks by the looks of it. Another long scar came down his neck, over his gills, vanishing under his shirt towards his chest.

He filled up another round and limped it over, his heavy oaken leg clunking on the cobbled floors each step.

The tavern was empty this time of day. The locals usually visiting were still working themselves. Most of the crews visiting the Island preferred the larger taverns and inns close to the docks.

Henric Bragnar and Boshcov were old acquaintances. He also preferred the ambiance, as well as the peace and quiet here.

The Barkeep set down the drinks on the table.

"Why don't you pour one for yourself and join us? On me!"

The Captain put the coin their three drinks, and another in front of the old man.

"Well since you're buying, how could I say no?"

He collected the coin, got himself another drink and sat down with them.

They were halfway through their drinks.

The creaking door opened. A small, cloaked figure entered the Tavern. Looking around for but a moment. Upon spotting the 4 rough looking men he approached their table.

A meagre voice inquired: "G'day, is one of you by chance the Captain of the Jane-Bonnie?"

Johnston leaned forward. With a threatening smile, showing off the few teeth he still had in his mouth he asked:

"Who wants to know?"

The figure peeled back their hood, revealing an adult Halfling, with a well-groomed light-brown beard and the remnants of a once tidy haircut. He had blotches of dirt over his prominent nose and his left cheek scratched up cheek.

"Oh, excuse my bad manners. I am Ludolf Pemgranat former associate of the Torbjornson Trading Guild, I have a Proposition for the Captain of the Jane-Bonnie."

Angelo interrupted: "Torbjornson? What's that?"

The Captain answered: "I've heard of them. They're a bunch of traders specialized in sensitive goods. Very secretive, very down low, avoiding attention at all cost. And, from what I’ve heard…they ship very juicy loot."

He took a swig from his grog. "Speaking of attention, you do have mine now little man. I'm Captain Henric Bragnar, the Jane-Bonnie is my ship."

The little Halfling’s eyes light up. "As you said, not many people know of them. I've heard you do, which is why I was seeking you out specifically."

The Captain switched to his best English.

"Mr. Boshcov, would you mind getting Mr. Pemgranat a drink?"

"Aye." Boshcov smirked at the Captains sudden change of manner and went to the bar.

"Sit, let's hear your... proposition."

The Halfling got comfortable on the chair opposite of Bragnar.

"I've worked for Torbjornson for a decade now, mainly in planning voyages and brokering jobs. Due to some unfortunate... misplacement of funds, I was unjustly relieved of my position. It was an unpleasant situation all around. I have been a faithful employee and was dropped like a sack of faecal matter."

“What audacity they have, to mistreat an upstanding worker like yourself!”

Angelo let out a subtle giggle, and hid his grin behind his drink.

The Barman set down a tankard in front of the Halfling.

"They even had the audacity to seize my Home and Wealth.”

He paused to take a sip, pulling a grimace from the taste. It was Obvious he was used to the more fancy wines and liqueurs.

“Well, I wish to recuperate some of my losses.

I have information about the exact route to the Northern continent. The Vessel will be transporting jewellery and a sizeable amount of gold to a Kingdom up north. Some kind of Tribute from what I’ve heard.”

He took another sip.

"I doubt the circumstances matter to you, as you'll be looting it anyways. The ship is a small schooner using a common ruse of the guild. They'll be taking on passengers and act as a ferry, to seem unremarkable and not worth the effort. They'll also be traveling off the main routes to avoid other ships. I am in possession of precise maps, ship inventories and crew, as well as passenger manifests."

Bragnar, is keeping his stoic poker face through the little man’s presentation.

"That sounds all nice and great, but what's in it for you?"

Pemgranat takes yet another swig, slowly getting used to the rough beverage.

"The ... Person who planned that route is the little rat that...  cost me my position, and in extension my home and money. It will shine a severly bad light on him if his route turns out to be a bust.

Of course, my information won’t be free either. I need a fresh start somewhere else and passage does not come cheap in these waters.

2000 gold coins. That's what's in for me."

Angelo jaw drops:

"2000?? Are you serious?" and starts laughing, as does Johnson.

Bragnar takes a sip, but keeps his composure.

"That's a lot of money Mr. Pemgranat."

The Halfling ruffles through an inside pocket in his vest, pulling out a piece of clean, official looking paper.

"This is the cargo manifest for the ship. Take a look yourself!"

The document looked legit. Bleached parchment, no crinkles with official looking stamps all over.

Listed on it were:

- several chests of silver and golden kitchenware

- several chests filled with thousands of coins each

- silver and gold ornate guns and swords

- bolts of satin and other expensive fabrics.

as well as various less valuable items.

While Bragnar went through the positions, angelo read a few over his shoulder.

"Damn Captain, that looks like quite the haul."

The Captain kept his unmoving expression answering him with a "Hm."

Turning back to Permgrenat.

"What about the passenger list, do you have that as well?"

The Halfling looked uncomfortable with that question.

"W..why would you need those, are you in the ransom business as well?"

Johnston let out a laugh, asking:

"What? Are you worried about the people on the ship?”

In an instant he turned off his overly polite act, with a rough and threatening voice he continued.

”You do realize whom you're talking to right? We're pirates! Looting, debauching, swashbuckling, murdering pirates. You won't find a single soul on this island valuing anyone’s life but their own little man."

Pemgrenat knew, but had pushed the thought aside so far. They are ruthless people, only after loot. His inner conflict was apparent on his face.

"Listen, Mr. Pemgrenat.

If we are forced to, we are fine with murdering every single person on that ship, however, it would make this whole affair riskier then I’d like it to be. The Reason I asked for the passenger list is simple. The more valuable the people on board, the more likely the crew are to part with their goods to keep them alive. I neither have the will, nor the patience to dabble in silly blackmail schemes."

He stood up, leaning forward with his hands on the table.

"I am intrigued by your offer, I'm intrigued by this little paper here. I’m even willing to part with the coin you want, what I do not see kindly to, is having my time wasted."

Bragnar’s eyes had become narrow. It was unmistakable that the Halfling’s life could depend on the goings of this conversation.

Permgrenat emptied his tankard to calm his nerves.

With a slightly calmer, but still rough voice, the Captain stated:

"What's going to happen, is this: You're collecting all your little papers and get them to the Shark's Fin tavern, tomorrow, 2 hours past sunrise. We'll be there with the coin. We'll exchange our goods like civilized people and be on our way."

"Don't waste our time."

Bragnar sat down in his chair again.

For a last time the Captain put on his fancy noble accent:

"I believe that concludes our business for today, have a good night Mr. Pomgrenat."

"Y..y.yes, thank you, Captain Bragnar. P..p.pleasure doing business with you!"

The little man got off the chair and moved towards the exit.

"Halfling!" Angelo called after him.

He turned around.

"Yes?"

"If your little papers don't pay out what you promised."

"You better hide reaal good, i'll be lookin for ya" he said in a threatening and also strangely suave tone, paired with a dirty smile on his face.

"Y.. Yes.., th.. they will." He answered and quickly left the tavern.

Angelo burst into laughter. "Hahaaa, Did you hear that stutter?"

Johnson chimed in: "I did, what I wanna know is, were you threatening him, or flirting with him?"

Angelo threw Johnson a seductive look:

"No need to get jealous Johnnyboy, he's not my type anyways"

The Helmsmen turned to Bragnar.

"Hmpf, anyways Captain, you really think that runts stuff is worth 2000 coin?"

"It’s a risk I’m willing to take Mr. Johnston. If the pay-out is even half of what's on that scrap of paper we can finally fix up the goddamn ship, get some more firepower and go for bigger prey. We've been scrounging around the bottom for months and I'm sick of it."

"I feel ya. The sails are patchwork at best at this point, and it'd be nice to not have the ship split in half under my arse."

Angelo chimed in.

"Enough talk about ya backside! Mr. Boshcov! Another round!"

After a few rounds of drinking, the three returned to the ship for the night.

Morning came, Bragnar packed up the coin, and called Angelo as well as a few men to escort him. They walked down the main alley of Hotencia Port.

Rickety timber houses lined the alley. Some of them with shop fronts on the ground floor and dwellings on the second but most of them just plain housing for the poor souls living here and working the port. The uneven cobblestone road, barely usable with a carriage, wound itself like a snake towards a network of dilapidated ancient ruins in the islands centre. The island had fallen far. Once discovered and established as a place of research, now taken over, as a haven for the lawless.

The posse arrived after a ten-minute walk from the docks. The Shark Fin Tavern in all its glory. A large timber framed structure, reinforced with iron fittings. A huge mounted shark-jaw crowned the entrance. Below, next to the entrance stood a fidgety nervous Halfling in wait.

Bargnar ordered his men to stay in the crowd and lay low, and Proceeded with Angelo towards the Tavern. Permgranat spottet the two. Before he could act, Bragnar gave him a sign to shut up and follow inside.

The Tavern was sparsly populated in the morning. The Barmaid Kharleeta greeted Bragnar with a nod.

Bragnar put down a stack of gold coins. "I need the back room for a few minutes."

Kharleeta turned her head towards a door on the left back wall and collected the coin.

The back room had a small square table, and seating for four people.

Bragnar sat down immediately, while Angelo waited for Permgranat to sit down. He looked the door from the inside and sat down himself.

The Captain produced a sack of coin, setting it down on the table in front of the Halfling.

"Let's see the goods while you count."

Permgrenat, visibly nervous, put the sack on the table and started counting the coin.

The Pirates looked over the papers. The Halfling had been truthful. Maps with precise routes, information about the ship, the ports it would pass, what goods it would collect on each stop, timetables, crew and passenger manifests, a manual for plunder!

The detail every piece of paper went into was impressive. As they finished looking through everything, Angelo nodded towards the Captain.

The two packed everything into a dirty inconspicuous linen bag they brought and waited for the diligent former clerk to finish his count.

Permgrenat looked up from the stacks of coin he had scattered over the table.

Bragnar noticed.

"You good?"

"Everything seems to be in order."

"Some free advice. Someone who is planning shit to this extend, is usually very good at finding out they've been fucked over. You better hurry up and vanish."

Pemgrenat audibly swallowed.

"Well, we're off. Pleasure doin business with you."

Angelo unlocked the door, the pirates made their way towards the Jane-Bonnie, leaving the Halfling behind.

On the way back, Angelo asked:

"Why didn't we just off the pencil pusher and take the gold back?"

"If we went back on the deal and word got out, We'd never get another opportunity like that." Bragnar smiled. "And chances are, the guild will be wasting resources and time looking for him, leaving them less to look for us."

"Huh, that’s smart."

The Captain responded sarcastic: "Well at least you’re pretty Mr. Angelo."

Angelo laughed. "Aye, Captain."

The crew spent the next week planning the trip, gathering supplies and cruising and scouting the area for the ambush.

three weeks later, in the captain’s cabin

Bragnar moved his bishop in position.

"Damn captain, another win for you I guess."

"Mr Angelo. When will you grow some cojones and stop letting me win?"

"I might consider that, if you weren't such a terrible loser. I do prefer my hands attached to my arms, thank you very much"

They both laughed.

"Time to take a look if the damn ship showed up. I'd rather not have to go to the trouble of hunting down the Halfling for screwing us over."

Weather looked even worse now. The eastern horizon looked dark. Thick storm clouds creeping closer. Bragnar took his position next to the Helmsmen.

"Mr. Johnston, how does it look?”

"I doubt we have time till tomorrow Captain." He pointed to the east.

"Aye, I noticed as well. Can we go around that?"

"I doubt it."

"How long till it’s here?"

The Sailor scouting from the crowns nest interrupted their conversation.

"SHIP AHOY!"

Bragnar formed a wide pleased smile. "Looks like we're not out of time yet."

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR YA MAGGOTS? FULL SAIL, LOAD THE CANNONS, READY HER FOR BATTLE, THE HUNT BEGINS!"

The crew had been going through the motions for days now, but as soon as the captains screaming began, everyone was on high alert.

A deafening "AYE!" sounded over the deck and even below.

The quiet afternoon turned to sounds of rustling gear, running footsteps, orders yelled by officers.

Cannons were loaded and readied, sabres brought from below deck. Knots were loosened, ropes unleashed, and the sails opened grabbing all the wind the patchy fabric allowed.

Johnston tore around the wheel, turning to intercept, and Angelo raised the Jolly Roger.

The Jane Bonnie made good way, as did the storm on the horizon.

"Let's hope their loot doesn't sit too tight Johnston."

"Aye, if they insist on a fight the storms gonna chew us up."

“Mr. Johnston, didin’t I tell ya to pray to the tempest, did ya end up pissing the lady off?”

“Guess she didn’t listen, should’ve let Mr Angelo use his charm.”

“Last I checked the goddess of the sea is a woman, he woulda be out of his depths on that one”

“Are you sure? I don’t think he’s picky in either direction”

The men looked at each other, let out a laugh and focused back on the task.

The ship had obviously spotted the Approaching pirates, as they were changing course away.

The Jane-Bonnie had been in disrepair for quite some time, but she held up pace without issue.

A two masted schooner, three quarters the size of the Jane Bonnie inched closer on their starboard bow. The ship looked rather new. Pristine white sails without markings, the hull painted in shades of burgundy and amber. As they were turning the aft revealed large white painted letters: “Luscinia”

The Captains orders burst from the quarterdeck "READY THE CHASERS, GIVE EM A WARNING SHOT. FIRE AT WILL!" The Officers relayed to the foredeck.

The cannoneers adjusted their cannons. The sound of exploding black powder followed swift.

Two splashes just off the schooners bow left no room for interpretation. Instead of surrender, or flight the schooner turned starboard, trying to manoeuvre into a broadside.

The Captain recognized the move. "A fight it is then. Mr. Johnston?"

"Aye, at it."

Johnston turned to port, trying to get behind them to avoid their cannons and get into position themselves.

"I WANT CHAINSHOT IN 5 CANNONS, PORTSIDE!"

Again, the officers relayed the orders and the cannons were prepared.

The ships were dancing through the rougher and rougher sea. The first in a halfway decent position could possibly end it in one salvo. Bragnars opponent was no amateur. Stealth and planning was not the only reason the guild had been as successful as it was. Their men were trained and weathered veterans.

Johnston managed to get the ship behind them. Sounds of cannon fire roared through the skies, followed by splintering planks. A few holes in the schooners sail and in the quarterdecks hull.

The dance continued.

Another of the Jane-Bonnies salvoes went wide. Return fire was coming in. An unlucky soul caught a cannonball through the chest, but little else in terms of damage.

A third opponent now fully joined the dance, the storm had arrived. Huge waves crashing into both ships, creating cover in their valleys and high ground at their peaks. The storm clouds darkness' rolled in, balanced by the lightning setting the ocean alight for moments at a time.

An orchestra of thunder, gunpowder and screams accompanied the dance of death.

Until a barrage of lightning revealed the winner and the end.

A few seconds the sky was alit, enough for both captains and crews to spot the wrath of the Storm. A towering wave at least 100 feet high.

Bragnar screamed from the top of his lungs:

"BRACE!"

Johnston spun the wheel, turning the ship into the wave.

A mountain of salty black water collapsed on the ships. The Sailors held, hugged and tied themselves to whatever was in reach.

The captain grabbed a rope from a mooring hook and slung it around his leg. Johnston hugged the wheel with every limb he had.

The waters crashed into their faces, bodies, entered their mouths and lungs. Seconds passed that felt like eternity and finally the Jane-Bonnie emerged from the back of the wave.

Bragnar was still on the quarterdeck. The rope held him on his ship, but his leg was twisted and broken. Johnston was still clinging to the Wheel.

"Johnston? You alive?"

The Helmsmen released his hold with hesitation.

"Aye, I think."

"We got any sails left?"

Johnston looked around. The Mainmast was gone, but the fore and aft sails were still holding on to something.

"Some."

"Then get us the HELL out of here!"

"AYE!"

Bragnar shouted into the darkness. "ANGELO?"

"Johnston, you see angelo somewhere?"

"Too dark."

"SHIT."

“Are you taking a rest Captain, what’s going on?

“My legs screwed up, doesn’t matter, just get us out.”

The Jane-Bonnie limped her way through the stormy sea.

An officer by the name of Hans Colter took over for the boatswain. Trying to take stock of the crew and the ships condition as well as the darkness allowed.

The ships quack Rodrigo Estavo triaged the Captains leg then continued with the crew.

Hours passed till the winds calmed down to a breeze. The darkness of the night replaced the dark of the storm. With Johnstons help, the captain retreated to his cabin, to find some rest. The water had wreaked havoc inside. The stained glass windows all burst. The furniture not fixed to the floor had tumbled all over, the beds was mattress fully soaked. They made makeshift bedroll with clothes from the cupboards and he went to sleep.

When day broke, Johnston and Rodrigo woke the captain. The Quack noticed a fever rising in the captain. His leg was mangled beyond salvation. Bragnar realized as well and didn’t hesitate to tell him: “I know it’s screwed, chop it off, we don’t have time for this shit.”

Over half the crew were gone. Swallowed by the seas. As he was nowhere to be found, it was certain that Angelo was among them.

Rodrigo took of the leg with a knife, a bone saw and lots of rum. He gave the Captain a sketchy potion he’d gotten from a hotencian Witch to get rid of the infection. They fixed up a peg-leg for the Captain to walk on, and the three of them left the Cabin to look at the damage.

They lost the main mast. The foremast was in decent condition, the aft one was half there, but still held a bit of sail. The fight and the storm had drifted the Jane-Bonnie far off route.

There was no telling where they were and where to go. They had to wait for the night and the stars to reveal more.

Bragnar was Furious. At the wretched Captain of the Luscinia that refused to surrender, at the goddess of storms working against them and at the puny Halfling that had started the whole endeavour.

The ship was still floating. He was still alive, so was a good portion of his crew, and he had a burning determination to keep it that way.