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Deep Water and Shoals II
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<blockquote data-quote="Bob Aberton" data-source="post: 1159569" data-attributes="member: 1518"><p>All,</p><p></p><p>The return to civilization, after your brief foray into the heart of Standishtown's darkness, is startling. At first, the trees and rushes of the riverbank are the only thing that greets the eye, and the birdsong is the only thing that anwers the splashing of the oars.</p><p></p><p>The first sign of civilization is a fence, or rather a stone wall, built without mortar, running alongside the river seemingly at random. After your journey into the wilderness, this sudden sign of civilization is jarring, almost absurd. The fence is already draped in greenery and covered with moss, already being reclaimed by the hostile forest. </p><p></p><p>The next sight you see is a keg raft, a barge made of lashed-together kegs, bound upriver, where it will be filled at the plantations and floated downriver again. Its boatmen nearly drop their quants, turning and staring at you until you round the next bend and they pass out of sight.</p><p></p><p>Their conversation follows you, though;</p><p></p><p>"Did'ja see thet? Weren't they the ones what the pointy-ears killed?" "P'raps they're ghosts, mate..."</p><p></p><p>Soon enough, you are once again among the familiar taverns, inns, and counting-houses of Standishtown. Then you are down among the wharves and the great bulk of the CALYPSO'S GRACE looms up alongside. It's good to be home.</p><p></p><p>"Mates," the Captain says, standing in the bow and turning to face you all. "I would say some celebration is in order, eh? I'd get my shore-goin' rigs on if I were you; drinks are on me at th' 'White Horse Inn' t'night."</p><p></p><p>Mr. Lang is the first to greet you as the longboat is hoisted aboard. In a rare show of humanity, he mops his brow in relief upon seeing you aboard safe and sound.</p><p></p><p>"Captain," he says, shaking first the Captain's hand, then everyone else's. "Thank Calypso, Oceanus, and Davy Jones that you are safe. Mr. Legba, Mr. Swifthand, Mr. Thriceborn, Mr. Arfaliunium, Sanchez, Stout; well done, all of you. I fear I did suffer some anxiety as to the likelihood of your return." For a moment, the Navy man in him rises to the surface, as you can see a quick flash of fighting-eagerness in his eyes. "It must have been wet work, fighting your way back."</p><p></p><p>"Sorry t' disappoint y', Mr. Lang," the Captain replies drily. "But we managed t' keep the ground mostly clean of blood - ours or theirs, though we lost a Standishtowner and a new hand. We neogotiated our way back, y' see. 'S a long story. Why don't y' get y'r shore-goin' rig, Mr. Lang, we're headed t' th' 'White Horse Inn' for some well-deserved celebration."</p><p></p><p>The Captain makes a cursory inspection of the ship, then he and Mr. Lang go below, to get out their shore-going clothes. From what you've heard of the 'White Horse,' it's a higher class of tavern, with none of the clamdigging riffraff you encountered you first night ashore here.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Bob Aberton, post: 1159569, member: 1518"] All, The return to civilization, after your brief foray into the heart of Standishtown's darkness, is startling. At first, the trees and rushes of the riverbank are the only thing that greets the eye, and the birdsong is the only thing that anwers the splashing of the oars. The first sign of civilization is a fence, or rather a stone wall, built without mortar, running alongside the river seemingly at random. After your journey into the wilderness, this sudden sign of civilization is jarring, almost absurd. The fence is already draped in greenery and covered with moss, already being reclaimed by the hostile forest. The next sight you see is a keg raft, a barge made of lashed-together kegs, bound upriver, where it will be filled at the plantations and floated downriver again. Its boatmen nearly drop their quants, turning and staring at you until you round the next bend and they pass out of sight. Their conversation follows you, though; "Did'ja see thet? Weren't they the ones what the pointy-ears killed?" "P'raps they're ghosts, mate..." Soon enough, you are once again among the familiar taverns, inns, and counting-houses of Standishtown. Then you are down among the wharves and the great bulk of the CALYPSO'S GRACE looms up alongside. It's good to be home. "Mates," the Captain says, standing in the bow and turning to face you all. "I would say some celebration is in order, eh? I'd get my shore-goin' rigs on if I were you; drinks are on me at th' 'White Horse Inn' t'night." Mr. Lang is the first to greet you as the longboat is hoisted aboard. In a rare show of humanity, he mops his brow in relief upon seeing you aboard safe and sound. "Captain," he says, shaking first the Captain's hand, then everyone else's. "Thank Calypso, Oceanus, and Davy Jones that you are safe. Mr. Legba, Mr. Swifthand, Mr. Thriceborn, Mr. Arfaliunium, Sanchez, Stout; well done, all of you. I fear I did suffer some anxiety as to the likelihood of your return." For a moment, the Navy man in him rises to the surface, as you can see a quick flash of fighting-eagerness in his eyes. "It must have been wet work, fighting your way back." "Sorry t' disappoint y', Mr. Lang," the Captain replies drily. "But we managed t' keep the ground mostly clean of blood - ours or theirs, though we lost a Standishtowner and a new hand. We neogotiated our way back, y' see. 'S a long story. Why don't y' get y'r shore-goin' rig, Mr. Lang, we're headed t' th' 'White Horse Inn' for some well-deserved celebration." The Captain makes a cursory inspection of the ship, then he and Mr. Lang go below, to get out their shore-going clothes. From what you've heard of the 'White Horse,' it's a higher class of tavern, with none of the clamdigging riffraff you encountered you first night ashore here. [/QUOTE]
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