Capellan
Explorer
Kull's First Report - Part 9
I will not trouble you with the details of our escape from the island. Suffice to say that we discovered the monks' old vessel - a larger and (once repaired) more sea-worthy vessel than the boat on which we had arrived. Originally, it was half-submerged in several feet of water, but between them, Zalich and the navigator were able to work out a method to get it afloat once more.
I went through the store room of the monastery in great detail, finding every container that was capable of holding water. Once we set off, we would have no source of fresh water other than magic: the better the stockpile we could begin with, the better.
In all, the repairs took about a week. Then, with the boat as heavily laden with provisions as we dared, we set off across the ocean. The navigator's sextant had survived our journey to the island, and he claimed to have a rough idea of where we were. Knowing nothing of the sea ourselves, we had little option but to trust him. Zalich seemed to believe the boy's claims, and despite his physical weakness, the halfling is intelligent and reliable. I did not believe he would have been easily fooled.
It proved in time that the navigator's estimate of our position was correct. After several days of sailing, we came in sight of a rocky, rather bleak-looking shoreline. We could, however, see a road on the cliffs above the stony beach, which meant that there must be civilisation of some kind.
Making landfall, I led the way up to the top of the cliffs, then looked out in each direction, searching for some sign of the closest settlement. Meanwhile, the druid's wolf - a most unpleasant companion on such a crowded trip - roamed around the area, sniffing at the dirt and 'marking' everything it passed. Filthy creature.
A steady rain had started as we climbed the cliff, and there was no way to distinguish one direction from the other. The road, muddy and seemingly rarely-used, offered no clue, while any chimney smoke or similar distant sign was lost in the falling rain.
My original destination had lain to the south of our current position - or at least, the position the navigator believed us to be in. Thus, I turned south, trusting to Hextor to guide my journey. Behind me, I could hear the others fall into line, slipping and sliding as they followed me along the muddy road. We had travelled only a few minutes when Zalich - digging into his pack for some item or another - fell, dislocating his arm. Magic lessened the pain, but the limb still had to be bound tightly, so that it would heal correctly. In the mean time, he would not be able to use his spells.
This was a discouraging start to the journey, but I did not allow it to dissuade me from pressing on. Hextor does not look kindly on those who lack the strength to face adversity. And within an hour, this perseverance had paid off. I reached a crest in the road, and - looking out through the rain - saw a village on the lowlands ahead. There were sheep - looking as bedraggled and damp as we had become - on the hillside below me.
I did not then know its name, but I had come to the village of Saltmarsh.
I will not trouble you with the details of our escape from the island. Suffice to say that we discovered the monks' old vessel - a larger and (once repaired) more sea-worthy vessel than the boat on which we had arrived. Originally, it was half-submerged in several feet of water, but between them, Zalich and the navigator were able to work out a method to get it afloat once more.
I went through the store room of the monastery in great detail, finding every container that was capable of holding water. Once we set off, we would have no source of fresh water other than magic: the better the stockpile we could begin with, the better.
In all, the repairs took about a week. Then, with the boat as heavily laden with provisions as we dared, we set off across the ocean. The navigator's sextant had survived our journey to the island, and he claimed to have a rough idea of where we were. Knowing nothing of the sea ourselves, we had little option but to trust him. Zalich seemed to believe the boy's claims, and despite his physical weakness, the halfling is intelligent and reliable. I did not believe he would have been easily fooled.
It proved in time that the navigator's estimate of our position was correct. After several days of sailing, we came in sight of a rocky, rather bleak-looking shoreline. We could, however, see a road on the cliffs above the stony beach, which meant that there must be civilisation of some kind.
Making landfall, I led the way up to the top of the cliffs, then looked out in each direction, searching for some sign of the closest settlement. Meanwhile, the druid's wolf - a most unpleasant companion on such a crowded trip - roamed around the area, sniffing at the dirt and 'marking' everything it passed. Filthy creature.
A steady rain had started as we climbed the cliff, and there was no way to distinguish one direction from the other. The road, muddy and seemingly rarely-used, offered no clue, while any chimney smoke or similar distant sign was lost in the falling rain.
My original destination had lain to the south of our current position - or at least, the position the navigator believed us to be in. Thus, I turned south, trusting to Hextor to guide my journey. Behind me, I could hear the others fall into line, slipping and sliding as they followed me along the muddy road. We had travelled only a few minutes when Zalich - digging into his pack for some item or another - fell, dislocating his arm. Magic lessened the pain, but the limb still had to be bound tightly, so that it would heal correctly. In the mean time, he would not be able to use his spells.
This was a discouraging start to the journey, but I did not allow it to dissuade me from pressing on. Hextor does not look kindly on those who lack the strength to face adversity. And within an hour, this perseverance had paid off. I reached a crest in the road, and - looking out through the rain - saw a village on the lowlands ahead. There were sheep - looking as bedraggled and damp as we had become - on the hillside below me.
I did not then know its name, but I had come to the village of Saltmarsh.
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