Chapter 226: Clubbing Crocs
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
Chapter 226: Clubbing Crocs
Derrick was suffering from two much heat just as Woodrat had been. Ever sense Jack had showed up, Ozzy hadn't had trouble with his own heat, and he'd kept a close eye on Woodrat. Having enough food had solved a lot of the problem. Food turned into fuel, and then fuel and heat made smoke. As long as you had food to eat and a way to burn smoke, a man could regulate his furnace even with the over-abundance of heat coming from the eruption. Derrick told him that they had escaped with a barrel of dried fish and the contents of the late captain’s wine rack. The wine had been drunk that first night, and the fish lasted several days. Derrick and one other man were good enough with making chain that they could fish and bring in additional food, but the smoke had become scarce of regular fish.
When they ran out of food, keeping their heat down had become harder. So had rowing. None of them was a wood wright, nor knew how to light even a small sail. The men willing to sail with Tommy weren't the best seaman on the ship. Derrick had been dragged along because he'd just begun to learn navigation. But without charts it was an impossible task.
Ozzy gave him a berry to eat and then did his version of the Heimlich maneuver. Derrick belched out flame and smoke, bringing down his heat. Ozzy got him a plate of sausages and made him eat. "We have plenty of food. Regulate your heat by making smoke. If you fill up on smoke, then get to work and use it up. It's hot out here, as I'm sure you noticed. Heat will kill you sure as no heat will." The boy nodded and a little later got to work making chain, a job he was slow at, but his links were far better than what Ozzy had been making until recently.
Ozzy had debated on his Mate's specialty, but in the end, Chainwork had made more sense than Quartermaster. As soon as he'd made the decision, chain had been easier to weave. He had a much better sense of the structure and how much smoke to use to give each link the strength it needed. His kraken weave was tight, winding nine strands around the copper chain in the middle. Woodrat would find the lengths that they needed for the next sail and lay them out. Ozzy would spend hours creating a tight, black cable around the copper and then Mariah would run the cable from the top of the mast down to the hull.
Chainwork wasn't something to be hurried. Woodrat had Ozzy work at steady pace. The captain was busy replacing the damaged poop deck, and then for good measure, he dropped the floor of Ozzy's cabin down by another foot to give him some more headroom. It was a tricky bit of woodworking, and required adding supports in the hold and rebuilding the floor, but Woodrat had done this job for decades. The captain didn't want a repeat of his first mate's little tantrum after he bumped his head. Especially not once they were away at sea.
He kept a close eye on Ozzy. He could tell when his mate started getting frustrated late in the day. A quest could do that to a man, when it kept poking at him. Luckily, Woodrat could see the signs and send him out to hit something. "Take a break, Mr. Ozzy. Go destroy something and work on that quest of yours. That's an order."
Ozzy stood up and stretched. He felt an itch to get into a fight and a slow anger was burning inside of him. He grabbed a few sausages and hopped over the side of the ship. "Be back in a while. Think I'll go visit that three master, bring back another couple ballistae." Woodrat watched him walk away, knowing that the three master probably wouldn't be there if he were to wander by the next day.
Ozzy had little to fear from the charred at this point. He and Woodrat had explored most of the ships in this area, drawing out any of the doomed sailors still on the nearby derelicts. He was more worried about a large creature like the kraken that might be hiding in one, so he stayed to the open areas of burnt seaweed, giving himself some space to run if he needed it.
There was nothing at all around him, and he was keeping a close eye on all the rotting hulks, so he was extremely surprised when he heard a small sound and then something clamped hard and painfully onto his left calf.
Cursing he looked down and saw a large lizard with a head like an alligator chewing on him. The critter had clamped its jaws around him leg and was chewing hard, trying to bite off part of him! The creature’s tail was broader at the end, and its legs ended in webbed feet.
Starving Stone hide Croc has bit you for 150 points of damage. Your tough hide mitigates 90 points of damage.
Smoke: 5300/5770
He slammed his fist into its head to make it let go of him, doing a little damage and not budging it. The creature had a thick, knobby hide that might be tougher than his own. He grabbed hold of the jaws, and slowly forced them open, then almost lost a finger as they snapped shut. Using one hand to hold the creatures mouth shut, he wrapped a chain around and around it. He intended to hold it down and pound it until it quit moving, but then he saw two more moving towards him with that strange waddle that a crocodile. They were nearly the same color as the burned sargasso weed and blended in.
"Fine, you get to be a club then." He grabbed the restrained creature by the tail and ran at the other two. He swung his croc at the one in the lead, hitting it in the head. It stared at him a moment, eyes rolling in its head. He kept swinging. By the time the second got to him, the first was not moving much. He switched targets, until the tail broke off his first lizard. Reaching down, he grabbed both of the others by their necks, and beat their heads together. He was breathing hard and dropped them when he finally thought they were dead.
Three hags concentrated, and in the bowl of still water next to the jar of smoke an image formed. In a junkyard of broken wood, surrounded by a plain of brown grass was the Butcher. He was running towards a wingless dragon, cursing.
"Hold the image steady. We need to pin it down, to find out where he is."
"Does it matter? That beast is about to kill him?
"Dibs on his bag!"
Despite their banter, the hags concentrated. Jenny was having trouble. No matter what she did, the image tried to slide away.
"Oh, curse it. He's wearing some sort of amulet of non-detection!"
Granny Gorpunkle, looking better than she had in years, looked closer. "Worse than that! He's been Marked! NO! Marked twice! Nothing screws up my magics like a god or two getting involved!"
"We have to use what we have. Be a good little Bag Lady and hold that smoke in the bottle. I'm putting in this image of him."
"I'm dumping the little barmaids dreams as well. I'm full up on what that sweet courier runs from each night."
Dreams and visions were added to a bit of smoke in the bottle along with a good bit of power. Jenny corked the bottle. "There, we accomplished that much. Let's think on this a bit. I need some food. I'm heading to the butcher shop for some rabbits."
"Wait a sec, deary, I need to take little Runt some of my gingerbread. He gets a bad dream every now and then about being dragged back to the dungeon. He's been letting me have those."
The last hag waited until they were gone, then took some of Jennies gold from under her mattress and headed to the tavern. The bottle of swirling smoke sat on the table all alone, until more smoke made its way into the house, and a smoke golem materialized. Joe picked up the bottle and peered inside. "Well, they got further along than I thought they could. Not a bad effort I suppose. That boy has some protections on him. I'll have to see what I can do with this."
I'm experimenting with a program called Wonder Draft. Slowly getting the hang of it for mapping.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Chapter 226: Clubbing Crocs
Derrick was suffering from two much heat just as Woodrat had been. Ever sense Jack had showed up, Ozzy hadn't had trouble with his own heat, and he'd kept a close eye on Woodrat. Having enough food had solved a lot of the problem. Food turned into fuel, and then fuel and heat made smoke. As long as you had food to eat and a way to burn smoke, a man could regulate his furnace even with the over-abundance of heat coming from the eruption. Derrick told him that they had escaped with a barrel of dried fish and the contents of the late captain’s wine rack. The wine had been drunk that first night, and the fish lasted several days. Derrick and one other man were good enough with making chain that they could fish and bring in additional food, but the smoke had become scarce of regular fish.
When they ran out of food, keeping their heat down had become harder. So had rowing. None of them was a wood wright, nor knew how to light even a small sail. The men willing to sail with Tommy weren't the best seaman on the ship. Derrick had been dragged along because he'd just begun to learn navigation. But without charts it was an impossible task.
Ozzy gave him a berry to eat and then did his version of the Heimlich maneuver. Derrick belched out flame and smoke, bringing down his heat. Ozzy got him a plate of sausages and made him eat. "We have plenty of food. Regulate your heat by making smoke. If you fill up on smoke, then get to work and use it up. It's hot out here, as I'm sure you noticed. Heat will kill you sure as no heat will." The boy nodded and a little later got to work making chain, a job he was slow at, but his links were far better than what Ozzy had been making until recently.
Ozzy had debated on his Mate's specialty, but in the end, Chainwork had made more sense than Quartermaster. As soon as he'd made the decision, chain had been easier to weave. He had a much better sense of the structure and how much smoke to use to give each link the strength it needed. His kraken weave was tight, winding nine strands around the copper chain in the middle. Woodrat would find the lengths that they needed for the next sail and lay them out. Ozzy would spend hours creating a tight, black cable around the copper and then Mariah would run the cable from the top of the mast down to the hull.
Chainwork wasn't something to be hurried. Woodrat had Ozzy work at steady pace. The captain was busy replacing the damaged poop deck, and then for good measure, he dropped the floor of Ozzy's cabin down by another foot to give him some more headroom. It was a tricky bit of woodworking, and required adding supports in the hold and rebuilding the floor, but Woodrat had done this job for decades. The captain didn't want a repeat of his first mate's little tantrum after he bumped his head. Especially not once they were away at sea.
He kept a close eye on Ozzy. He could tell when his mate started getting frustrated late in the day. A quest could do that to a man, when it kept poking at him. Luckily, Woodrat could see the signs and send him out to hit something. "Take a break, Mr. Ozzy. Go destroy something and work on that quest of yours. That's an order."
Ozzy stood up and stretched. He felt an itch to get into a fight and a slow anger was burning inside of him. He grabbed a few sausages and hopped over the side of the ship. "Be back in a while. Think I'll go visit that three master, bring back another couple ballistae." Woodrat watched him walk away, knowing that the three master probably wouldn't be there if he were to wander by the next day.
Ozzy had little to fear from the charred at this point. He and Woodrat had explored most of the ships in this area, drawing out any of the doomed sailors still on the nearby derelicts. He was more worried about a large creature like the kraken that might be hiding in one, so he stayed to the open areas of burnt seaweed, giving himself some space to run if he needed it.
There was nothing at all around him, and he was keeping a close eye on all the rotting hulks, so he was extremely surprised when he heard a small sound and then something clamped hard and painfully onto his left calf.
Cursing he looked down and saw a large lizard with a head like an alligator chewing on him. The critter had clamped its jaws around him leg and was chewing hard, trying to bite off part of him! The creature’s tail was broader at the end, and its legs ended in webbed feet.
Starving Stone hide Croc has bit you for 150 points of damage. Your tough hide mitigates 90 points of damage.
Smoke: 5300/5770
He slammed his fist into its head to make it let go of him, doing a little damage and not budging it. The creature had a thick, knobby hide that might be tougher than his own. He grabbed hold of the jaws, and slowly forced them open, then almost lost a finger as they snapped shut. Using one hand to hold the creatures mouth shut, he wrapped a chain around and around it. He intended to hold it down and pound it until it quit moving, but then he saw two more moving towards him with that strange waddle that a crocodile. They were nearly the same color as the burned sargasso weed and blended in.
"Fine, you get to be a club then." He grabbed the restrained creature by the tail and ran at the other two. He swung his croc at the one in the lead, hitting it in the head. It stared at him a moment, eyes rolling in its head. He kept swinging. By the time the second got to him, the first was not moving much. He switched targets, until the tail broke off his first lizard. Reaching down, he grabbed both of the others by their necks, and beat their heads together. He was breathing hard and dropped them when he finally thought they were dead.
Three hags concentrated, and in the bowl of still water next to the jar of smoke an image formed. In a junkyard of broken wood, surrounded by a plain of brown grass was the Butcher. He was running towards a wingless dragon, cursing.
"Hold the image steady. We need to pin it down, to find out where he is."
"Does it matter? That beast is about to kill him?
"Dibs on his bag!"
Despite their banter, the hags concentrated. Jenny was having trouble. No matter what she did, the image tried to slide away.
"Oh, curse it. He's wearing some sort of amulet of non-detection!"
Granny Gorpunkle, looking better than she had in years, looked closer. "Worse than that! He's been Marked! NO! Marked twice! Nothing screws up my magics like a god or two getting involved!"
"We have to use what we have. Be a good little Bag Lady and hold that smoke in the bottle. I'm putting in this image of him."
"I'm dumping the little barmaids dreams as well. I'm full up on what that sweet courier runs from each night."
Dreams and visions were added to a bit of smoke in the bottle along with a good bit of power. Jenny corked the bottle. "There, we accomplished that much. Let's think on this a bit. I need some food. I'm heading to the butcher shop for some rabbits."
"Wait a sec, deary, I need to take little Runt some of my gingerbread. He gets a bad dream every now and then about being dragged back to the dungeon. He's been letting me have those."
The last hag waited until they were gone, then took some of Jennies gold from under her mattress and headed to the tavern. The bottle of swirling smoke sat on the table all alone, until more smoke made its way into the house, and a smoke golem materialized. Joe picked up the bottle and peered inside. "Well, they got further along than I thought they could. Not a bad effort I suppose. That boy has some protections on him. I'll have to see what I can do with this."
I'm experimenting with a program called Wonder Draft. Slowly getting the hang of it for mapping.
Chapter 226: Clubbing CrocsDerrick was suffering from two much heat just as Woodrat had been. Ever sense Jack had showed up, Ozzy hadn't had trouble with his own heat, and he'd kept a close eye on Woodrat. Having enough food had solved a lot of the problem. Food turned into fuel, and then fuel and heat made smoke. As long as you had food to eat and a way to burn smoke, a man could regulate his furnace even with the over-abundance of heat coming from the eruption. Derrick told him that they had escaped with a barrel of dried fish and the contents of the late captain's wine rack. The wine had been drunk that first night, and the fish lasted several days. Derrick and one other man were good enough with making chain that they could fish and bring in additional food, but the smoke had become scarce of regular fish.When they ran out of food, keeping their heat down had become harder. So had rowing. None of them was a wood wright, nor knew how to light even a small sail. The men willing to sail with Tommy weren't the best seaman on the ship. Derrick had been dragged along because he'd just begun to learn navigation. But without charts it was an impossible task.Ozzy gave him a berry to eat and then did his version of the Heimlich maneuver. Derrick belched out flame and smoke, bringing down his heat. Ozzy got him a plate of sausages and made him eat. "We have plenty of food. Regulate your heat by making smoke. If you fill up on smoke, then get to work and use it up. It's hot out here, as I'm sure you noticed. Heat will kill you sure as no heat will." The boy nodded and a little later got to work making chain, a job he was slow at, but his links were far better than what Ozzy had been making until recently.Ozzy had debated on his Mate's specialty, but in the end, Chainwork had made more sense than Quartermaster. As soon as he'd made the decision, chain had been easier to weave. He had a much better sense of the structure and how much smoke to use to give each link the strength it needed. His kraken weave was tight, winding nine strands around the copper chain in the middle. Woodrat would find the lengths that they needed for the next sail and lay them out. Ozzy would spend hours creating a tight, black cable around the copper and then Mariah would run the cable from the top of the mast down to the hull.Chainwork wasn't something to be hurried. Woodrat had Ozzy work at steady pace. The captain was busy replacing the damaged poop deck, and then for good measure, he dropped the floor of Ozzy's cabin down by another foot to give him some more headroom. It was a tricky bit of woodworking, and required adding supports in the hold and rebuilding the floor, but Woodrat had done this job for decades. The captain didn't want a repeat of his first mate's little tantrum after he bumped his head. Especially not once they were away at sea.He kept a close eye on Ozzy. He could tell when his mate started getting frustrated late in the day. A quest could do that to a man, when it kept poking at him. Luckily, Woodrat could see the signs and send him out to hit something. "Take a break, Mr. Ozzy. Go destroy something and work on that quest of yours. That's an order."Ozzy stood up and stretched. He felt an itch to get into a fight and a slow anger was burning inside of him. He grabbed a few sausages and hopped over the side of the ship. "Be back in a while. Think I'll go visit that three master, bring back another couple ballistae." Woodrat watched him walk away, knowing that the three master probably wouldn't be there if he were to wander by the next day.Ozzy had little to fear from the charred at this point. He and Woodrat had explored most of the ships in this area, drawing out any of the doomed sailors still on the nearby derelicts. He was more worried about a large creature like the kraken that might be hiding in one, so he stayed to the open areas of burnt seaweed, giving himself some space to run if he needed it. There was nothing at all around him, and he was keeping a close eye on all the rotting hulks, so he was extremely surprised when he heard a small sound and then something clamped hard and painfully onto his left calf.Cursing he looked down and saw a large lizard with a head like an alligator chewing on him. The critter had clamped its jaws around him leg and was chewing hard, trying to bite off part of him! The creature's tail was broader at the end, and its legs ended in webbed feet.Starving Stone hide Croc has bit you for 150 points of damage. Your tough hide mitigates 90 points of damage. Smoke: 5300/5770He slammed his fist into its head to make it let go of him, doing a little damage and not budging it. The creature had a thick, knobby hide that might be tougher than his own. He grabbed hold of the jaws, and slowly forced them open, then almost lost a finger as they snapped shut. Using one hand to hold the creatures mouth shut, he wrapped a chain around and around it. He intended to hold it down and pound it until it quit moving, but then he saw two more moving towards him with that strange waddle that a crocodile. They were nearly the same color as the burned sargasso weed and blended in."Fine, you get to be a club then." He grabbed the restrained creature by the tail and ran at the other two. He swung his croc at the one in the lead, hitting it in the head. It stared at him a moment, eyes rolling in its head. He kept swinging. By the time the second got to him, the first was not moving much. He switched targets, until the tail broke off his first lizard. Reaching down, he grabbed both of the others by their necks, and beat their heads together. He was breathing hard and dropped them when he finally thought they were dead. Three hags concentrated, and in the bowl of still water next to the jar of smoke an image formed. In a junkyard of broken wood, surrounded by a plain of brown grass was the Butcher. He was running towards a wingless dragon, cursing. "Hold the image steady. We need to pin it down, to find out where he is.""Does it matter? That beast is about to kill him?"Dibs on his bag!"Despite their banter, the hags concentrated. Jenny was having trouble. No matter what she did, the image tried to slide away."Oh, curse it. He's wearing some sort of amulet of non-detection!"Granny Gorpunkle, looking better than she had in years, looked closer. "Worse than that! He's been Marked! NO! Marked twice! Nothing screws up my magics like a god or two getting involved!""We have to use what we have. Be a good little Bag Lady and hold that smoke in the bottle. I'm putting in this image of him.""I'm dumping the little barmaids dreams as well. I'm full up on what that sweet courier runs from each night."Dreams and visions were added to a bit of smoke in the bottle along with a good bit of power. Jenny corked the bottle. "There, we accomplished that much. Let's think on this a bit. I need some food. I'm heading to the butcher shop for some rabbits.""Wait a sec, deary, I need to take little Runt some of my gingerbread. He gets a bad dream every now and then about being dragged back to the dungeon. He's been letting me have those."The last hag waited until they were gone, then took some of Jennies gold from under her mattress and headed to the tavern. The bottle of swirling smoke sat on the table all alone, until more smoke made its way into the house, and a smoke golem materialized. Joe picked up the bottle and peered inside. "Well, they got further along than I thought they could. Not a bad effort I suppose. That boy has some protections on him. I'll have to see what I can do with this."I'm experimenting with a program called Wonder Draft. Slowly getting the hang of it for mapping.
