The Thousand Isles - Captain Ricmo

 

Ricmo sat at alone at a table on the second floor balcony of Black Alice's Brew sipping his drink and absentmindedly watching the traffic pass below him. The wind was warm and balmy off the bay, and the setting sun lit the streets with a soft golden light. He had to admit, this wasn't bad.

The halfling wasn't really paying much attention to the bustling harbor town below him though, he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was evidentially captain of the Lady Jezebel now.

Leadership was not a state that Ricmo normally aspired to. In his opinion, responsibility had a tendency to kill the fun in life and often just flat out kill you. When he had been growing up in the streets and gutters of Valoria, he had been a member of many a gang, but never aspired to be a leader of any of them. Let the other toughs jockey and kill for the alpha spot, he was happy to let them have it. Of course he had never been much of a follower either, he'd generally just gone his own way and kept his obligations and commitments light. 

It had all happened so fast. One minute clear seas and a fair wind, and then Marius calling out about a ship under attack off the starboard bow.

Firebeard had warned them these seas were wild and inhabited by monsters, but this was the first evidence they had seen that the old pirate's words had been true. Ricmo had felt a flash of pity for the crew of that small ship caught in the tentacles of whatever that thing was. 

They could have sailed on by of course. The creature was busy. As the companions exchanged glances, the opportunity to avoid the conflict hung heavy in the air between them. Lightbringer had frowned though. Then the Druid and the Ranger had squared their shoulders and nodded to one another. 

Dakhir had noticed the mood shifting and sighed. "Fine, fine I guess we get to be the heroes again" he groused. And the die had been cast.

The engagement had been sharp and bloody.

The monster had ignored them as Lady Jezebel reefed sail and moved into position. Busy with it's meal no doubt, for while the small, strangely attired crew was fighting back valiantly, they had stood no chance, their ship was being town apart around them. 

It hadn't been until Firebeard had ordered "Fire" and the great brass waist cannons had thundered out, that the creature had taken notice. 

"Cannon shot in the face has a tendency to demand your attention": Ricmo thought to himself darkly. "Even when you are a sea monster the size of a house".

That thing had moved FAST though. They hadn't expected anything that big to move with such speed and that had been their undoing. Before they could reload the cannons for another broadside, before they could even move, it had been on them. And it's great tentacles had grabbed ahold of The Sturg and Captain Firebeard.

The Sturg wasn't about to be anything's dinner though. He had reached out those mighty hands and torn the tentacle that had grabbed him to shreds, pulped them really. But Firebeard wasn't so lucky. One tentacle had wrapped around his legs and another around his chest, the creature had PULLED and Firebeard had been torn in two. And the lower half had been popped into the creatures great maw quick as anything 

Ricmo could still picture the sight. He'd seen a lot of horrible things in his life, but the upper torso of Captain Firebeard grasped in the tentacle of that great beast, swinging around over his head, still alive, and trying to scream, that was one of the worst. For a moment he'd locked eyes with Firebeard as the gyrations of the tentacle brought the unfortunate pirate no more then ten feet overhead. Firebeard had looked him right in the eyes, and then with the last of his strength he had thrown the Captain's Daughter at the Halfling. And reflexively Ricmo had caught it.  And then Firebeard was gone.

They had won of course. Cannon, hellfire, The Sturg's great strength, the small arms of the crew, and the Druid's giant birds had been too much for the beast. After Dakhir and Whisperleaf had burned off the last of the things tentacles it had vanished under the sea, still alive and nursing it's wounds. Marus said it was still following them, deep down under there. Looking for a chance for revenge.

They had saved most of the crew and even managed to rescue most of the valuables and two pair of quite nice mithril cannon before the other ship had sank. Useful to have those, given that other then the three pair of magical bronze waist cannons, the other guns on the Lady Jessica were five hundred year old rusted piles of junk/

Ali and his crew had claimed to be explorers from some place far away to the east called Masriq. They were a good bunch, if a little odd, and seemed to think they owed the crew of the Lady Jezebel a debt for rescuing them. They had signed on to the crew without hesitation, and a welcome addition they were. Not only were they another eleven hands to help sail the undermanned frigate, but the carried impressive large and well made muskets, muskets they seemed to know how to use. Ricmo suspected they'd be solid in a fight.

  

But Firebeard was gone, his spot at the rear of the quarterdeck empty. Or at least so they had thought at the time.

In the aftermath of the battle the companions had gathered around the table in the great cabin to discuss, The Captain's Daughter sitting in the center.

"Someone has to take that thing and be Captain of this ship" said Dakhir. "It's clear the Jack's only obey because the Daughter controls them. Without the Jack's we can't sail this ship. Plus ships need a captain".

For a moment they all were quiet. No one wanted it. 

"That was the interesting thing about this group" reminisced Ricmo. "We have no leader. Never have. No one seems at all interested. And yet somehow we always do ok. Marus notices something, Whisperleaf speculates about it, Dakhir says something dark or other, I crack a joke and then somehow we are all just doing the necessary". It was by far the strangest group dynamic he had ever been part of it, but it worked. And he kinda liked it. 

Uncharacteristically it was Marus that had broken the silence

"Ricmo should be Captain. The Daughter came to him. It is fated.". She leaned back and crossed her arms as if to signal the discussion was over. 

"Hold on there, no way, nope, no no no" said Ricmo. "Sorry appreciate the vote of confidence but not interested." He desperately scanned his friends faces. 

"He does seem to understand how the ship works better then any of us" said Whisperleaf, the beginnings of  a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "We've all seen him peppering Firebeard with questions about how this or that works, finer points of sailing. This is what you get for that sense of curiosity of yours"

"I agree" said Lightbringer smiling. "The Halfling has a good heart, a quick wit, the Jacks like him, everyone likes him, and he has the devils own luck. Also we have no need to worry he will go mad with the power." 

"You know what they say Ricky" said Ozraeline. "Them that best should lead, that ne'er want it". Freddy nodded, concurring. 

Dakhir smiled and saluted Ricmo. 

The Sturg stood up. He slowly walked around the table to where the halfling was seated, towering over him. Ricmo had gulped. Suddenly, The Sturg slapped Ricmo on the back so hard the halfling almost fell out of his chair. Then The Sturg had saluted too.

"That's decided it then" laughed Dakhir. "All hail Captain Ricmo!" 

The party cheered.

"Oh shit" Ricmo had said.

And now ten days later he sat at a table in the center of NorthPort, the docks district of Haven Towne in the Thousand Isles and he was Captain. And somehow it had all worked out. The Jacks' had obeyed him cheerfully. And it turned out he actually had soaked up the basics of running the frigate during the long journey after all, more or less. And now after months of travel they had finally arrived at their destination, and not only that but had almost immediately lucked into a lead that promised to further their quest.

Ricmo unhooked the Captain's Daughter from his belt and examined it, running his hands over it's smooth silver handle. The Cat' o Nine Tails was old, the handle covered in old Annish writing and emblazoned with the sigil of the Annwyn Imperial, Navy, the nine chain thongs still dark and supple. Old, no doubt, not exactly his type of weapon, but he guessed he was stuck with it. 

Oh well. At least they had finally reached their destination, and at least he was finally back in what looked like a quite decent city with quite decent beer.

Ricmo leaned back in the tropical breeze, put his hairy feet up on the rail and drained his flagon, an odd grin playing across his features. He looked down at the throngs on the busy street below him,.

"That Captain Ricmo to you lot" he said, waving the Daughter at them. And then he started laughing.