[GREAT] Awakening

[PepsiWhirda]

The Sea Sprite dropped anchor about fifty yards off the coast of Tia Dalma’s island.  The privateer vessel, its Waterdeep engineering familiar to Whirda, also a Luskan native, was magnificent.  It reminded Whirda of her past and specifically of her mother, who had spent a great deal of her life on similar ships as a pirate hunter.

Standing at the water’s edge, Whirda and Tia watched as a small boat was lowered from the deck to the water.  Two strong-armed sailors extended long oars out either side and began to row.  Whirda could see a third occupant, standing on sturdy sea-legs, in the boat and knew instinctively it was Captain Deudermont, the legend of Luskan, miraculously back from the dead.

A moment later, the hull of the boat breached the shore and Captain Deudermont turned to them, hopping into the wet sand just as the surf receded.

There could be no doubt it was Deudermont.  As if ripped straight from the portraits and statues all over Luskan, the dashing sea captain approached.  Resplendent in the knee-length, gold-buttoned coat and high black boots of a Costa Del Sol privateer, Deudermont flashed both women a dazzling smile.  He wore his hair long and tied back from his face, revealing a jagged scar that started on his forehead and traced a path beneath his left eye and across the cheek.  The remnant of what must have been a severe wound did little to diminish his roguish good looks. 
Deudermont’s eyes, blue like the ocean, twinkled when he spoke.  “It has been some time, Lady Tia,” he said.  “You grow more fair with each passing of the tide, it seems.”

Whirda couldn’t help but laugh when she saw Tia blushing.  Her expression straightened when Captain Deudermont turned to regard her.

“And Whirda Windstrom,” the sea-captain began.  He took a measured step forward as the surf crashed in, lapping at his heels.  “No worse for wear, it seems.  The last time I saw you, you were on the edge of death.”

A hundred questions tumbled through Whirda’s mind in that moment: questions of the truth of Deudermont’s supposed fate; questions of their journey to Tia Dalma’s island, of which she had no memory; and, perhaps most importantly, questions of the events in the Moors, before she came under his care.  Realizing that now was not the time for what amounted to an interrogation, Whirda only returned the sea captain’s smile.  “My thanks, Captain Deudermont, for ensuring my safety those years ago.”

Deudermont removed his wide-brimmed hat and swept into a gracious bow.  “It was my pleasure, madam.”

“You fly the flag of Luskan,” Whirda noted approvingly.  “It is from the Sword Coast that I hail, as well--from Waterdeep in my youth and from Luskan itself in my later years.  I know well the exploits of Captain Deudermont the pirate hunter.”

The sea captain’s shock stole his formal demeanor and rocked him back on his heels.  “Never did I think I would hear of my homeland again,” he said, “but for my own nostalgic utterances.”
“How long is the journey ahead?” Whirda asked, steering the conversation back on a more prudent course.

Captain Deudermont recovered quickly.  “A tenday, perhaps,” he replied.  “Our progress will be hastened if Tia Dalma graces us with her presence.  My sails seem always to be full when that one is about.”  He tossed Tia a playful wink.

The voodoo priestess, content thus far to observe Whirda and Deudermont’s spirited exchange, nodded briskly.  “I shall join ya,” she said.  A cloud came over her face then.  “‘Tisn’t safe for me ‘ere.”

Deudermont seemed to understand Tia’s statement.  “You sense it too.  A darkness, growing both over and under the Deep.”

“Sense it?” Tia replied.  “Didn’t need ta sense it, good captain.  Whole host’a naga showed up at me doorstep not tree days past.  Had it not been for this one”--Tia jerked her head toward Whirda--”Tia Dalma would be fish food.”

“Then I am in your debt,” Deudermont said to Whirda, dipping into another bow.  His troubled expression belied his gracious disposition.

“Consider it a partial repayment, for all you have done for me.”

Satisfied with her answer, Deudermont indicated they should return to the Sea Sprite.  Whirda slung her pack over her shoulder, swept a stray strand of silvery-blonde hair out of her eyes, and stepped gingerly into the small boat.  The two strong-armed crewmen offered her curt nods, reserved and professional in the presence of their captain.  Tia followed shortly after, Jack the capuchin clinging nervously to her shoulder, and Captain Deudermont deftly shoved the boat off the sand and into the surf before hopping inside himself, taking care to keep his polished boots dry.  Whirda marveled at his dexterity, the almost preternatural way he interacted with the water and kept his balance as the choppy waves rocked the vessel.

As they neared the Sea Sprite, crewmen on board the magnificent ship lowered thick ropes down to them.  The two in the small boat with them got busy looping them through sturdy iron rings affixed to the bow and stern.

“Brace yourselves,” Deudermont warned.  “With the weight of five this is no easy task.  Progress will be slow.”

“I have a better idea,” Whirda said.  Concentrating briefly, she wound a magical tether around Deudermont, Tia, and Jack.  The sea captain opened his mouth to protest, but in that moment all four of the companions disappeared with a crack, reappearing a moment later up on the deck of the Sea Sprite.

A chorus of astonished gasps and murmurs erupted from the gathered crewmen.  Deudermont stumbled when the deck of the ship appeared beneath his feet, an uncharacteristic moment of clumsiness.  

“What in the…” he murmured, before he noticed the ripples of mirth consuming his crew.  “Haul up the boat!” he snarled, regaining his composure.  “Prepare for our departure, you lazy scoundrels.”  Still, the sea captain couldn’t help but chuckle himself.  “A fine trick, Whirda Windstrom.”

Their captain’s tirade did not diminish the laughter, and perhaps even increased it.  Still, the trained and loyal crew sprang into action preparing the ship for the journey ahead.  A few offered nods or dipped into shallow bows when they neared Whirda, their eyes looking everywhere but at hers before scurrying off to carry out their duties.  

None of the crewmen seemed willing to speak to Whirda.  The perceptive woman picked up on their anxiousness as soon as the laughter subsided.  Perhaps her teleportation had taken them by surprise, but Whirda suspected a deeper meaning.  How many of the men had been aboard the ship when Deudermont first transported her to Tia Dalma’s island, she wondered.  The blank spot in her memory gnawed at her now, raising questions she hoped Captain Deudermont would answer in the coming days at sea.

In short order, the Sea Sprite’s sails unfurled and filled with wind.  The grand vessel set off to the west, spitting white spray as it bounded across the choppy surf.  Captain Deudermont strode back and forth across the deck, barking orders.  Whirda and Tia stood at the helm, watching the voodoo priestess’s small island home recede into the distance, swiftly becoming no more than a hazy speck on the horizon.

Whirda did not speak, recognizing Tia’s troubled expression and sharing in the sentiment.  Even Jack seemed subdued, the scruffy capuchin curling up on Tia’s shoulder and staring with heavy-lidded eyes at the activity on the deck before drifting off to sleep.  The first hour passed with the two companions standing in silent solidarity, cruising into the vast, blue unknown.