Bhrigu, a Man of Letters, joined the Cursed Crew in search of tales. This is his journal.

Background
Entry 1
Entry 2
Entry 3
Entry 4
Entry 5
Entry 6
Entry 7
Entry 8
Entry 9
Entry 10

Entry #0

AHOY, me hearties!
Have me been a landlubber fer too long? Aye, me'thinks!

Fer all these years, me been a landlubber travellin' through the lands. But then me met an old salt in a village with an oxcart full'o booty. And me'thought, avast, it be the time to sail under the Jolly Roger and brave the briny deep. So me stands before you Cap'n, with a dream to drink casks of grog and bumbo, pillage booty and have some salmagundi.

____________________
Bhrigu, the human wanderer, has travelled many villages and towns of his land as a teller of stories and a writer of poems. He earned his coin by the virtue of his knowledge of the letters and his much prized pen and inkwell. A gatherer of stories has decided to join the cursed crew in search of tales that await him on the high seas and distant islands. He brings with him a bag full of books, head full of doubts (he is indecisive), and a sabre that was gifted to him by a cavalry officer after bhrigu composed a poem for him as he was returning to his family after two whole years.


What follows are the journal entries from the stout leather bound volume he carried with him, and where he noted of his experience on this epic journey. Like a proper man of letters, he writes in the third person.

Entry #1

When Bhrigu reached the port town, it was already past the early hours of night. The streets were empty barring the nightwatch and the occassional rogue. The only sign of life came from the taverns that dotted the main street. Our culturally conscious connoisseur of contemporary and historic tales softly opened the wooden door to The Red Lion and entered. Inside a scene full of merrimaking unfolded itself before his eyes, eyes long unaccustomed to such mirth. People were drinking from wooden mugs, consuming freshly caught seafood, and a romantic comedy was being performed on the stage. Bhrigu took seat on an empty stool and asked the inkeeper for some ale and smoked squid, which was served with some exotic fruits from a distance land. "These fellers just made port last night from the East, and they managed to sneak some of these yellow fruits out of the ship for me" exclaimed the inkeep, aged, gruffy, but somewhat amicable. The fruit was soft, juicy and tasted like the smell of honey during a summer evening rain. The play was approaching its climax, the characters were to untangle the confusion of mistaken identities and make amends to live happily ever after. Bhrigu had decided to venture out into the unknown. He pressed a silver coin on the countertop, and asked the innkeep if he would be kind enough to direct him to the ship comandeered by Captain J and Admiral Polly. The old man sighed as if for a moment the memory of someone weighed upon his chest, then nodded his head. "Aye, I can point you to the ship in the mornin', but you don't seem to be no seafarin' type", he said. "I am not" Bhrigu explained his journey as a collector of stories, "I am looking forward to a journey full of journaling and a voyage made of verses". How did he chanced upon this opportunity of being a part of "the Cursed Crew" , asked the innkeep, his voice hushed as he uttered those words. Our literary traveller stayed silent for a few moments, and then started reciting his new composition.

Once a summer years ago
in a land where river Brine did flow
a village lived
in sorrow
as the youth had gone
all to the sea
a place steeped in misery
where people dressed in poverty
as the youth had all gone to the sea

on an evening cold
an evening dark
a stranger came
and asked for work
the elders said that they can't pay
they only trade in rotten luck

the stranger's eyes
burned like fire
as he was travellin'
through the shire
to meet who are in misery
to write a tale melancholy

"you see, sire, I'm quite well fed
a shed to stay, a spare bed,
permission to keep my head
as I collect your tragic dice
in this game of comb and lice
tell me of the vices old that
close to old hearts you hold
from where stems your tragedy
show me sire how do you fold"

the elders looked aghast at first
but then pointed fingers to the past
how those who left had gone to the sea
so they can back to the village bring
grog and gold to cure their plight
chests full of golden sunlight
so the villagers can live like free
and drink and live so merrily

the stranger smelled the whif of tales
that clung to shells of sea turtles
to the hilts of the swords
and the keel of the ships
a life full of risks
but a life full of glee
O would he sail in the sea
for a life full of gold
and a life full of glee

"So I decided to be a part of such adventure and try my luck in looking for treasure", said Bhrigu. The inkeep, keeping his silence, passed him an extra plate of that exotic fruit. "It is called 'mengo' they say" the old man said, "apprently 'men go crazy' for these fruits in the summer, they say". Bhrigu rented a room and retired to it. It was sparsely decorated, but on the table lay a small volume titled "How to Speak like a Pirate by Cap'n B". "You'll need it", a note stuck on the cover read.

"Embarking on the 'Voyage of the Cursed Crew' through Bhrigu's Journal!

Entry #2

The early morning sun had just risen above the forests to the north of the town, when Bhrigu came out of The Red Lion. He adjusted his hat, tightened the strap on his trusty satchel, rubbed the side of his right shoe on the reddish soil and started for the dock whereto the innkeep had directed him. The morning crowd were up and about, swiftly turning through the streets like a nimble mountain stream, with a complete disregard for the leftover of last night's revelry, including the drunks snoring by the side of the streets. The air smelled of coal smoke, fresh bread, stale fish, and limitless possibilities. Trying his best to avoid crashing into the swift moving townspeople, our benevolent buccaneer made it to the docks.

A small rabble had gathered, attracted and repelled in equal degree by the unearthly grandeur that the ship exuded. The stern of the ship attracted Bhrigu's attention, as something was written there in signs unknown to him, in spite of his travels through different lands. Did the letters just squirm, or was it a trick played by the mind. He decided to take a brisk walk around the docks before walking up the gangplank. The narrow streets were emblematic of the any-dock, all he had seen before. Placards on the walls advertised miracle cures for infertility and advice to please one's lucky stars, invited the thirsty to the alehouses and other less savoury establishments, and warned of the pirates roaming the nearby waters. The last bit made Bhrigu smile a little.

While passing an abandoned storefront with windows barred with planks that had already started to rot, something caught his eyes. His alert gaze immediately realised that the wooden pipe used to lock the rusty old door bolt was infact a scroll holder. He looked left and right, and in a quick effortless movement picked it up and started walking towards an empty part of a nearby pier. After he sat down and opened the container, a small roll of parchment fell on his hand, and he had to take great care not to damage the brittle paper as he unrolled it. It was a map of some island, with direction to reach it written down, that was comepletely incomprehensible to Bhrigu. There was something about breadfruits and sea turtles written on the margins, and the crude drawing of a mask. "The Cap'n or some other crew member might figure what this is, methinks!" he said to himself, and returned to the ship.

The ship had, by now, become much more active, with rations being hauled into it, and a cast of diverse crew members gathering on the pier and gradually making their way onto the deck. The crowd, half terrified and half fascinated, gasped as Bhrigu passed them to embark on the ship, his appearance somehow unsuitable to that of the ship. Scarce could they understand the fire for an epic adventure tale that had build its nest in his heart. Noticing the undead penguin on the bow he remebered that it was an ancient symbol for "Free and Open Sea Shanties", and thought that this voyage will surely be an interesting one. As he walked up the gangplank and landed on the deck with a small hop, he shouted his greetings to Admiral Polly. While he was getting exalted at the friendly wave back from the Admiral, he suddenly felt a strange pull in his chest. The moment appeared to have stretched itself into minutes and his mind seemed to moving in dimensions hitherto unknown to him, both terrifying his human soul and fascinating his wanderer's thirst. As if the depth that the sea held had started to expand his world, and he felt a strange light shining at the abyssal depth, that rose slowly and melted in the mellow morning air. Bhrigu looked at his sabre, secured safely in his cummerbund, and for a moment thought that the hilt shone with an unknown colour.

He suddenly snapped out of the stupor and noticed some of the crew already present on the ship. A bald dwarf with a remarkable beard was whistling a merry tune, a halfling woman was taking stock of an enormous variety of pots and pans and other knick-knacks, a dwarf was being followed by a train of cattle, a half- orc was struggling to tie a coin pouch to a messenger pigeon. Another dwarf was sitting on the taffrail and observing the movements carefully, and a young lass stood looking at the horizon with dreamy eyes, one hand on her cutlass another held a bottle of rum. Bhrigu now turned towards the stern and saw the figure of a woman who seemed sombre and composed, and exuded an aura of unfathomable power. "She must be Captain J" thought Bhrigu, and went ahead to introduce himself. "Ahoy Cap'n! Me be Bhrigu the wanderer, who travels for tales. And now me devotes me services to you, the ship and all me fellow picaroon!" said he.

The day was still young, the crew was still gathering, the future held endless possibilities.

Entry #3

Throughout the relatively hot afternoon Bhrigu slept on a jute sack filled with potatoes. This reminded him of his innumerable journeys through the different parts of the continent, on ox carts and horse drawn carriages. He sensed the world moving around him; the waves breaking in gentle splashes, more gunny sacks full of ration being lowered on the deck, and the crew meandering on the deck. The sweet music that arose from the harmonica of Cap'n Baldbeard lulled his senses into realm of half awakened fancies. There was a delicious smell rising in the air, along with the rustic comforting smell of fragrant wood, but Bhrigu could not decide if he should get up for a meal or not. The disappearance of the figure whom he thought to be the captain perturbed him to a great degree. "Nothing on this ship would be as it seems from a landlubber's point of view", he murmured as he closed his eyelids.

When he stepped out of his nap, and on the deck, the lanterns had been lit all over the ship. Yet there was a sense of forboding that seemed to inhale the light and spit it out in a more insidious hue. The town looked miserably joyous with its streets lit with torches, and its train of those who were already drunk and those who were going to be. The guards roamed the streets with their armour shining like fireflies in an urban jungle. The ship was animated with a joyous hubbub. Bhrigu felt something wet touching his hand, and turning he saw a cow was licking his palm. He patted the animal on its head, who answered with a gentle moo. The ship turned into a veritable zoo, he thought, with the three headed monkey being the star attraction. The journey might turn out to be a long one, but never dull.

The dusk was giving the reign away to the night, the scarlet of the horizon began to shift into a shadowy blue. What surprizes does the night have in store for them, all wondered. Most importantly, what would Argy put on their plates.

Entry #4

When Admiral Polly started shouting orders, the ship broke out of the remainder of the chains that the proximity to land casts, and leaving the port behind the vessel started towards the open seas. The ocean was out there, distant yet near, thought Bhrigu. How do you measure distance out here, by the pull of the winds on the sails, by the passing of the days with each arrival of a new sun, or by the pangs that gnaw at your heart searching for terror as deep as the depths where lie the bones of thousands who came before you. What did he expect from this voyage?

Those who had tasted the salt in the air before had already attuned themselves to the clockwork of the ship. Bhrigu felt a bit off at not being able to join them in unfurling a sail or hoisting the jolly roger. To compensate for this he decided to roam around the deck and complement those who were breaking a sweat. Soon the Admiral called for a gathering and alotted them each their living spaces. An entire well furnished cabin was more than Bhrigu had hoped for and hence felt very content. But his eagerness to visit his quarters had to be restrained, for the cursed weapons materialised by the Bruja were to be chosen by the crew. He wanted something handy, but also alive with a spirit of its own, and the Cat-o-9-tails with squid tentacles for its tails seemed to be the perfect companion. As he picked the cursed weapon up, a shiver ran through his spine, and a feeling manifested itself as if the whip was no longer a separate entity but a part of himself. The tentacles writhed a little before falling silent. As he was wondering whether to store the whip in his satchel or to tie it to his cummerbund, the cursed weapong sprang to life again and wrapped itself to his left hand in the manner of a bracer. "Well, that's one concern been taken care of", said he to the wriggling tails. "But then, you squids carry a dark ink, ain't you", inquired Bhrigu, "will it be possible to use some of it for writing!" The ninth, and somewhat smaller tail moved a little began to make a purring noise, and as soon as he brought an empty inkwell out of his satchel, it siphoned some translucent ink into it. "Now this is quite unusual; might it be the fabled invisible ink", he turned ruminative.

Entry #5

The mermaid incident had left everyone onboard a bit astonished, or so it seemed. The half dwarf at the centre of it all was now trying to converse with the conch shell. Bhrigu felt a bit wary of his motivations, and worried about what other fiasco might be waiting for them. Cap'n Rummyfangs was complaining about him getting leeches while Grog'tial got a beautiful mermaid, but Bhrigu couldn't remember there being any leeches amongst the cursed weapons. May be he has been drinking grog in his cabin, afterall he had run off to his cabins a short while ago. Now, Bhrigu thought, he could also notice his garments to be a bit disheveled. While Count Karnstein stared mournfully towards the hook hand that had by now grown an uneasy attachment with the notice board and the fishbowl that by now must be sleeping with the fishes, Bhrigu made his way towards the comissioned officers' quarters. The dimly lit corridor led towards the captain's cabin, and just before that, on the right hand side his own quarters lay. He held the two heavy dogs— they were made of brass in the shape of crabs and were cold to the touch— and pushed the doors open.

The cabin was lushly furnished, well as far as ship cabins go it was. The bed looked inviting with its cotton stuffed pillow and batik green quilt, but after napping for the entire afternoon Bhrigu did not feel any desire to crash there at the moment. The sea chest near the foot of the bed looked heavy, made of dark teak planks and lined with iron. There were, strangely, no locks or handles, but when he touched the intricate floral designs, they lit up in a ghastly purple hue and the lid opened to reveal a lonely bottle of rum. He took a sip from the bottle ‐ it tasted tropical and fruity he thought— and promised to bring the bottle some companions in the future. When his attention fell on the rolltop desk his heart leapt in mirth. The desk was painted in deep mauve with golden inlays, and its well-oiled surface reflected some of the moonlight that came through the portholes, suggesting it had been someone's tresured piece. The port was, by now, only a distant splotch of light on the horizon. The salty sea breeze that entered through the porthole brought no tides of the land, but only a sense of despair mixed with anticipation that is usually aroused for the arrival of some sublime force. Bhrigu took a moment to regain his composure. Putting down his stachel on the emerald coloured rug, he started to debate with simself on how to best organise his spare shirts, trousers, a hat, and a long coat best, until the difficult job was done. Bhrigu, next, put his journal, his inkwells full of deep blue-black and magenta and sea green inks along with the newly collected invisible ink, and a fine nibbed pen on the respective compartments of the desk. Raising the lamp wick filled the room with an ethereal glow and his realisation of being consumed by something far beyond his own comprehension heightened. His fingers picked up the pen, and as the nib began to leave a trail of ink on the coarse fibrous paper, words started to take shape.

By the day her anchors drop-
a day of rest- an unkempt stop-
a town to see and wares to shop
a space to be merry- yo ho ho!

But in the night her sails are raised-
as townsfolk rest their bonce on the bed-
the sky overhead would burn so red
as the ship set sail- yo ho ho!

A feathered friend- a fiend to foes
keeps this band of salts on toes-
on deck roam fearless rovers of yore-
the ship is crewed- yo ho ho!

The waves are parted day and night
no land no albatross in sight-
the sea so severe in its might
still the vessel will flow- yo ho ho!

In a distant land- where caves of stone
are strewn with gold and piles of bone-
known only in shanties long forlorn
to there we sail- yo ho ho!

The pen was dancing on the coarse paper as if to a lively tune, when it dawned on him that he was supposed to meet the Admiral. Capping the pen, he placed it neatly alongside his journal in a drawer, adjusted his cummerbund, and started for the navigation room. When he stepped out on the deck, the lanterns had been lit all over the ship. The deck was empty, mostly, with most probably having retired to their quarters to get settled. A few old salts were there managing the sails. There was a sense of forboding that seemed to inhale the light and spit it out in a more insidious hue. He climbed the stairs to the quarter deck and entered the navigation room.

The navigation room was neat and orderly, a captains dream come true, full of maps and charts of all shapes and size. A large globe stood on a wooden stand. The Floor was covered with a lush carpet, embroidered in threads whose hues seemed too deep and otherworldly to be described. Through the large windows on the back one could see the lonely lantern hanging on a hook over a seemingly bottomless ocean. His appreciation of the ambience was broken only when Admiral Polly cleared throat to draw his attention.

When he walked onto the quarter deck again, Bhrigu seemed ruminative. He was feeling emptiness where food should be. "Shouldn't have lazed off in the afternoon and skipped my dinner", he murmured. "Now when are we going to have our supper?"

Entry #6

Bhrigu felt a sense of excitement rushing through his veins as Admiral Polly briefed the gathering about the first mission of their voyage. One the one hand Bhrigu was a bit disappointed that they won't have the privilege to visit the port and learn of the customs and manners of the people that had gathered from different parts of the world. But this sadness was only momentary, as it was offset by the possibility of taking on the ship of the vampirates, a ship infamous around the world for masquerading as a friendly vessel while gradually destroying the unwary and trustful boat.

As the crew, both the veterans and the new blood, started discussing the possible routes to reach the target ship, he also started weighing feasible courses of action. Bhrigu picked up a wooden stake and started to examine the sharp pointed tip with his fingers.

"As fer services to the mission, me can possibly use my Cat-o-squids to reach things in hard to reach places. Me have bonded somewhat with them squiggly squid arms a little and they seem to be helpful little things. And can me remind ye that the sabre ain't merely an ornament. Me havin' travelled far and wide through the lands know of self defence, but me want ye all to know that a few moons before a bloodthirsty creature of night crossed my path in a wood, and while fearin' certain death I slashed me blade in its skin, the undead fiend been howlin' with pain and ran away in a hurry. Make what ye will of that. "

"However, me can be of a greater help to ye all by my extremly keen and sophisticated eye, and me penchant to seek to understand novel scripts and languages."

"An' while I appreciate all the zeal ye all have shown, methinks we shall focus on safely getting the chest from the Cap'n's cabin, as we all can feel that might be crucial to our future endeavours. Capturing the guard tower without raisin' a ruckus shall aid our jolly team, methinks"

Entry #7

Bhrigu felt a deep sense of contentment that tinged his anticipation as he realised he was going to take part in a mission as a part of a pirate crew – not just any pirate crew but a cursed pirate crew. He rushed back into in his cabin and started packin' for the quest at hand. He took out his sabre out of the sheath and marvelled at its sharp shining edge. He suddenly felt he needed to carry that mysterious magnifying glass he had bought some time ago from a shady looking man by the side of a well in a village where a few imperial archeologists had unearthed the ruins of an ancient civilizations. "I found it lying around the tents of the science guys, it looked shiny" the shady man had said, "but it has been giving me dreams full of people talking in strange languages; you look like a man of letters, maybe you will have a better use for it". Did Bhrigu have a use for it now? He sure felt so, and stuffed it into an inner hidden pocket of his long coat. He took his satchel and put a few sheets of paper, filled two pens with magenta and invisible inks, and put it on his back. He took the new black tricorne, lined with deep brown velveteen cloth from the wardrobe and adjusted it with a visible sense of satisfaction. He closed the porthole of his cabin and patted the lantern gently which caused the light to dim as if it went to take a little nap.

As he walked back onto the deck he saw Queen Origi was being fliwn to the roof of the tower by her albatross. "Arr, this is an experience me ain't much eager to partake in" he expressed his clear uncomfort at being hauled through the air. Grog'tial had taken a lot of stakes and also attached some to his crosbow bolts, which seemed a quite intelligent thing to do. "Silent and deadly – sillent – annd – deadlyy" Bhrigu rolled his tongue placing emphasis on the need for stealth in this mission. He himself took a couple of stakes and secured them to his cummerbund. His Cat was sleeping as a bracer on his arm snoring a little, so he petted them a little waking them up ready for the upcoming mission.

"Ahoy, me plan to stay on the ship for now and join the boarding squadron to the evil ship and take out those scallywag vampirates, and help the rest of me mateies in looking for the chest and other possible treasure".

Entry #8

Bhrigu was really impressed by Count Karnstein's idea to create garlic grenades to counter the vampirates whose centuries old dull noses are unable to cope with the excellent rich aroma of dried garlic. When Larissa, with help from Pugwash, finally prepared them, Bhrigu was mightily amazed at their potential. "Arr, them be some fine balls of garlic, can ye make some after the mission for Argy to serve with the celebratory dinner, of course sans the cow dung. The will cheer up the loblolly, poor john, or salmagundi."

Inspired by this ingenious idea, Bhrigu had one of his own. Since, they were waiting on the ship while the other teams headed to the tower, he still had some time left for preparations. He took the last remaining bottle of holy water, filled up the reservoir of a pen with it and some alluring magenta, and started writing on a few pieces of paper. He was preparing a flier for an establishment that served specifically to those whose needs were for a night full of dancing and 'special' varieties of wine; those full of more sanguine humour. Surely, such an flier would attract the attention of a sea-fatigued bloodsucking buccaneers. He, soon, completed writing six exciting little fliers, which theoretically sting the vampirates in an extremely painful way, if they touched them. "These be providing us with a stealthier weapon against those scurvies, Aye!"

Keeping two for himself, he asked his fellows if they wanted any of these fliers for "Deadly Disco". "Perhaps the Count would prefer not to touch them, arr! The rest of my mates are welcome to take some for me, since we have four left."

Entry #9

The atmosphere on the ship turned tense as Cap'n Rummyfangs suddenly heard screeching and screaming sound from the direction of the tower. The felinoid in his inpatient anxiety started shouting that it sounded like Queen Origi's albatross, and was promptly reprimanded by Admiral Polly. The feathered admiral's stern demeanour coupled with a swarming surge of soectral energy that had started to swirl around him caused Rummyfangs to realise how he was potentially jeopardizing the mission by shouting. Yet after a quick apology things were fine again. Bhrigu noted that the strong bond between the Grog brethren of which he had heard before was truly a force that did bind this diverse cast of buccaneers in a band. Yet the anxiety that arose after the bird's shriek was heard was certainly a matter of concern, and yet the team on the ship could hardly do much except to wait with bated breath and hope for the best. The team that had started on the longboat had, too, moved mostly out of vision by now. The night wore a veil of chilly mist, and with each passing minute it was increasing ever so slightly. The sliver of a crescent moon in the sky was shirking appearance by constantly hiding its face behind passing caravans of clouds that in this season carried rain from the western seas to the fertile plains inland. "Aye my fellow messmates, the omens of the world seem to be on our side. Avast, me just hopes Origi is fine an' dandy, and Aylar and Argy and the rest of our team takes those blighter blaggards out" exclaimed Bhrigu in a hushed voice.

Amidst the hushed discussion that arose among those on the deck, the ship suddenly shed its shroud of stealth off. Just when everyone was startled up thinking the ship has been spotted, Admiral Polly announced that a new member is going to join the cursed crew, as some untoward incident had delayed them. Bhrigu wondered who could this be , especially how on earth were they going to be arriving on the ship. All the questions were laid to rest when a half-mer, Kyp Everswimmer, with glistening scally skin, amicable behaviour, and a jocundly irritated accent climbed his way on board. The crew came to realise that the antics of Grog'tial had resulted in the destruction of Kyp's home, the fishbowl, and he was now going to be a part of crew, one with a personal journey to find a home of his own.

"Ahoy matey! Welcome to the ship. Ye settle yourself a little, Kyp! And then, maybe, ye can help us we go onboard the vampirate vessel" exclaimed Bhrigu in a friendly tone, and then suddenly remembering something addressing all said "Avast me hearties, me still has four holy water fliers on me hand fer ye, take some if ye want to".

The flier read thus:

×××××××××××××Bored of Plant Based Wines?××××××××××××
××××××××Tired of music that ain't from the Middle Ages?×××××××
×××Irritated of bartenders suggesting you to file your incisors?×××

--Your wait for an Establishment that fills all your needs is OVER!--

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆—–‐<<<<<DEADLY DISCO>>>>>-–—☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
A Place for the Distinguished Patrons with a Sanguine Humour
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A Place for YOU!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

● Coffin seating available.
● Exotic 'drinks' from all around the world.
● No Siring allowed inside the club premises.
● Entry barred for those below the age of 130 years.

"If this don't attract the attention of those vampirates, me not knows what else will, arr!" said he, "now who wants a few copies?"

Entry #10

Bhrigu had thought that staying on the ship he would be able to avoid the exertion of capturing the guard tower, and thus focus on and contemplate about how to prepare himself for the quite terrifying mission of boarding a ship full of vampirates and who knows what other abominations. However, all his plans were to come to naught as a din and a low grumble that originated in the ship's hold turned into a proper suckers as the ship's doctor, and subsequently the cook too, appeared on the deck, oozing green goo and exhibiting undead pallor and braindead demeanour.

" Shiver me timbers! Hey, ye carousing scallywag, that knife could have hurt someone, can't ye see?" while Bhrigu's exclamation was apt, his question was grossly inappropriate since ye cannot really expect much sense from a zombie cook who has thrown a sharp knife at you and is now climbing the mast with a sharper tachi in his hand apparently with the intention to attack Cap'n Rummyfangs. "Perhaps he be angry at how Captain Baldbeard's cudgel has relieved the zombified doctor of the weight of half of his brain" Bhrigu thought. It was normal to be this flared up when your fellow undeadd is being tied up with ropes by the crew and you are under the strict control of a dark and nefarious power. However, thankfully, this tricky situation was soon solved as the crew present on the ship worked together to take out the menaces. The dwarven sharpshooter was going to be a great support during their raid on the enemy ship, as he had already proved his skills by pinning the zombie doctor initially, thus opening a window for others to take care of the business at hand. After both the scoundrels were taken care of, Bhrigu washed his hands and his trusty sabre carefully with seawater and a little piece of soap the he had carried in his pocket from the inn he was staying in at the port.

"Cor blimy, what has happened to ye Rummyfangs? " asked he to his fellow crewmate as the felinoid Captains shiny appearance had taken a turn towards a dark and livid hue. "Is that thing contagious !" Bhrigu shuddered for a moment before realizing it was the result of the magical madness of the laundry rags of transformation. Cap'n Rummyfangs was surely to return to his normal self with the ships transformative and restorative powers and Admiral Polly's assistance, he was sure. What disturbed our bewildered bard more was the source of the contagion, as discovered by Captain Baldbeard and Larissa, being the growth of a strange colony of mushrooms inside the hold of the ship. " Me sure hope that the crazed cook did not put any of that stuff into our food, good thing we have got Argy to take care of the the culinary aspect of a long voyage."


By now the crew who had gone to take care of the tower had returned to the ship, and preparations were on for boarding the enemy ship and claim the loot for which they had come to this harbour. Bhrigu was content to see that Pugwash and Queen Origi hand shown interest in the Holy Water Inked Fliers. He, especially, found the idea to wrap the fliers around the crossbow bolts to be really ingenious. He held the couple of fliers he had with himself and began to wonder how he would be able to use them. The crew, under the instructions of the admiral, was deciding how to board the ship. He reached into pocket of his coat and felt that the magnifying glass he uses to read what just learning and eyes fails to was there with him. He felt his sabre's hilt cold to the touch but reassuring and the friendly squid tentacles of his Cat Bracer wriggled as they sensed the tension in the air.

As the ship grew closer to the ghastly galley, and a strange chill seemed to descend on their psyche.