The Isle of Mourning (unfinished, current project)

The Isle of Mourning

The tropical storm howled its rage, it had so for weeks without a single break. Waves some thirty feet high pounded the stricken ship trapped in its grip. The brigantine Sa'Sera had seen better days...even before the storm. Decades ago it was a speedy resupply vessel meant to bring essentials to far-flung island outposts in the vast Iapetus Ocean. Now large portions of the ship were rife with ship-worm and dry rot.

The voyage had started out poorly, half the salt pork and been improperly sealed and spoilage had cut the crews rations by half within the first few weeks. Not long after the captain had sickened and died. The job had been left to the first mate, a strict but fair female half-orc named Drea. Who at the moment had her hands full. They had to tack sail, turning directly into the wind to keep from being even further off course. But even as is they had to take down 2 thirds of the canvas to keep it from being shredded in the gale. They were running low on spare sail...things were getting dire.

Drea yelled over the gale, “Keep her from drifting to port! The next one of those will roll us!”

Saul, a full orc had his feet braced straining against the ship's wheel, the man was six foot 5 of pure green muscle, the ship's quartermaster. Even he was tiring under the constant strain of the latest squall. For all his size he was slow to anger and quick to forgive. “Aye cap'n tryin...shes sluggish. Bilges are full, we be taking water into the hold for sure!”

“Get everyone we can spare on the pumps, we have to find and plug that leak we got a major breach down there somewhere! Meek! Get a crate of oakum down to the hold!” Yelled Drea to the kobold cabin boy. He was the only soul who wasn't struggling with the sails or the pumps. He was tired, cold, and afraid...but he was more afraid of letting down his crew. He yipped out a “Right away si...err Captain.” Before running below decks to grab a crate of the frayed hemp rope to help plug the breach in the hull.

The diminutive creature had taken the death of the old captain hardest, the old man had taken a shine to the little lizard when he was little more than a hatchling. The usually hard-nosed old man had found him stuck in an empty barrel, he had been eating the fish out of it when he had another stacked on top of it and had been loaded into the hold of the ship. The crew had been at sea for days before they heard his scratching and crying. The old man had a soft spot it seemed and rather than toss him in the sea he gave into the little red lizards pleading and made him the ship mascot.

At first, he had been more of a pet, scurrying around eating scraps and catching rats in the hold. But Meek wanted more than anything to be useful and he learned quickly.
That had been nearly 10 years ago, and now at about 13 years old He had been an adult for nearly 7 years and in that time he had learned most of the ships jobs. He was an exceptional night watchman because of his natural dark vision. Mostly though he did the job of captains steward, helping prep meals, clean the cabins, and do laundry.

Meek struggled to heft crate of oakum, he was pretty normal as far as kobolds went. Red, scaly, two small horns, about 3'8 inches tall and 50 pounds. Shipboard work was hard but he ate well. Even on half rations he only needed to eat about a quarter as much as a human. He made it his personal goal in life never to miss a meal, most of his spare time was spent hunting rats in the hold for that very reason.

He was dismayed to see his hunting ground starting to flood, the water was already up to his knees, Sloshing with the waves against crates of iron pots, glass beads, copper implements, and other such trade trinkets for trade.

He saw his favorite human in a mass of others trying to hammer a wooden plug into a break in the hull, he scurried closer to help. “Hal! I bring more ship stuffings! I help I get in!”

Harold, who went by Hal moved aside while Meek jammed himself between the legs of the other working men using his claws to pick up the strands of oakum, dunk them in pitch, and jam it between the plug and shims the others were trying to hammer. The whole mass seemed to be holding and after a bit, it was as tight as they could possibly manage.

Hal and some of the others patted Meek rattling his head around by his horns affectionately and patting his back. “Good job Meek! None of us could get it in such a small spot. If this damn storm ever lets up and gives us a second you can have my grog ration for the day!”

This made Meek grin ear to ear, his tail swishing with excitement at the praise. He and  Hal were on the way to the pumps when there was a loud boom, They heard the sound of timber rending as the main mast splintered and they were thrown against the bulkhead seconds after it crashed to the deck above. Everyone hauled themselves up and sprinted above deck.

The sight that met them was one of carnage. The main mast had been struck by lightning, then split nearly at the deck-line then crashed forward crushing the foremast and snapping it off at the mizzen sails. Then the whole mess of canvass, rigging, and splintered timber had fallen to the starboard side creating what amounted to a huge sea anchor dragging that whole side of the ship down.

A few of the crew in the rigging had managed to jump to the deck before it all crashed into the sea but of them, only one or two had managed to land without injury.

Saul bellowed “Capt'n that's gonna drag us to the deep if we don't cut it loose!” The orc jammed the wheel with a wooden break and secured it with a rope and belaying pin.

Drea got off the deck and kicked open wooden locker grabbed a hatchet “All hands get to it!” She quick passed out the blades to her remaining crew, by her count she had lost a half dozen in the rigging.

Hal yelled over the gale “How are we gonna get anywhere if we cut all the sails loose! We will be dead at sea!”

Saul tried to shift busted timber from the deck “Worry bout that after we ain't dead swallowed up by the storm!” He yelled as he heaved a sheet out of the way and started rigging up a block and tackle to heave what remained of the foremast off the deck.

For tense minutes Drea and her crew hacked at lines and heaved for all they were worth. Finally, they managed to use the block and tackle to heave the giant mast over the side. A cheer went up among the crew...that was quickly silenced when the tangle of lines caught the anchor chain and wedged into a gun port.

It was even worse like this, dragging them side on to the waves. Drea felt a moment of dread, and it showed on her face. She would have to order someone over the side to cut the lines. Before she could order someone to do it Meek piped up.

“Put line on Meek! I's the smallest! I cut ropes and you pulls Meek back up! Uh...make sure not to wait for long to pull back.” He looked afraid as Drea tied a makeshift harness on him.

“Its OK Meek, you get it done and get back quick.” She said as she finished tying the knot around his shoulders.  She gave him a final pat on the back before putting the hatchet into his hands and lowering him into the pitching seas.

The tangled mass of lines and canvas was a lot to deal with for a 50-pound kobold and each wave threatened to bash him between the ship and the massive splintered timbers. His claws and tail helped him hold on somewhat but the line harness holding him was not helping at all...he strained against it trying to reach a tangled line out of his reach and slipped out from his lifeline.

He yelped as he nearly ended up getting washed off the flotsam, scrambling to get back to the line. He could hear the crew screaming, he looked up to see them pointing. Meek's stomach sank, a huge wave was bearing down on them. He had no time to reach for the safety line. He instead rushed to the snarled knot holding the mast, with both hands he swung the hatchet holding on as best he could with his tail. It was taking to long, his arms burned with effort finally the line parted. He was flung down face first, chest thumping against the now pitching timber. The breath whooshed from his lungs and he lost the hatchet into the foaming sea.

The terrified kobold scrambled for the makeshift harness that was blowing wildly in the winds and pelting rain, it was rapidly receding from the quickly turning ship. He made a wild grab for it...and missed. He and the masts were lifted stories high then dumped down in a tumbling mess. The masts glanced the hull, the ship turning the bow into the waves.

Meek came up sputtering and flailing, gasping for breath. His claw caught canvas, he grasped it and dug in before he could be ripped away, managing to haul himself on top of the timber. The mast was quickly receding from the ship as the jib and spirit-sails that remained forward pulled them into the wind. He had a wild thought that maybe if he jumped in and swam it he could still make it. Meek stopped himself from acting on it, that would be suicide.

He thought he could still see figures in the dim lamplight on deck still, but he could hear nothing over the howl of the wind and pelting rain. Meek spared a second to wave his hand to them. “Goodbye! Good luck. Meek will miss you!” He sniffled for a moment lowering his hand, a wave splashing cold salt water over him, he could be sad later. He wasn't going to give up just yet.

Meek did his best to shimmy up to the mainsail, there were some ropes still in decent shape. He used the brass ring guides and that to lash himself to the mast where the intact crossbeam of the sail and the mast met, this he figured was his best chance of keeping from being tossed upside down and drowning. When he looked back up the ship was gone, and he was alone in the pelting rain.

For the first few hours he was more afraid then he had ever been in his life, he did not like being alone by nature. Kobolds had an inborn fear of being separated from their pack or clan, and since he had been taken in by the old captain his pack had been the crew of the Sa'Sera. Being separated from them brought on an overwhelming anxiety, every moment he expected a shark or some monster of the deep to snatch him from his perch on the mast.

As the night wore on the strain of holding on and keeping out of the water, compounded by being pelted by cold rain had started to take its toll. His baggy white cloth shirt clung to his scales, he wore a pair of black slops, baggy sailors shorts fashioned from a flour sack came to above his bent knees, those trailed in the water. His muscles ached from shivering and constant clinging with claws. A human would have fared better, exposure wore on him, his low body weight and being cold blooded worked against the poor kobold. By the early hours of morning exhaustion had taken him.

Part 2

Meek's whole body ached. He let out a low whine of a moan. He could hear waves crashing, wind blowing, and fire crackling? He slowly opened his eyes and had to blink them shut again, it was bright and it hurt his pounding head. He managed to shift from his back to his side, he was laying in warm soft sand. His ordeal came back to him in a rush and he sat up abruptly hands splaying out to his sides tail raised up in alarm.

Meek was sitting in front of a fire on a beach some big bits of driftwood and a few remaining bits of palm frond shielding his eyes he squinted and scanned the area. Before him lay a small crescent of white sand beach, in front of him a beautiful blue lagoon separated from the ocean by a band of a reef and light blue water. He could see what was left of one of the ships masts hung up on a bit of sandbar about a hundred yards out. Behind him stretched a thick jungle of palms, massive tree ferns, and some sort of strange trees that looked like droopy pine trees with trunks that had scales, off in the distance giant black stone mountains rose above the sea of green.

Closer to the fire some thin sticks were stuck in the sand, a few dozen colorful reef fish strung out to cure in the sun. From one of them hung his shirt and his shorts. Meek yipped realizing finally he was naked, years around the crew had made him more conscious about that sort of thing than the average kobold. His impulse to scramble to get his clothes were cut short as he tried to get up, his bruised and battered body protesting. He weakly sat back down...his head spinning.

Meek held his head in both claws then ran his parched tongue over his thin cracked lips. He had swallowed to much sea water in his ordeal the salt water making his scales dry and papery. He needed to find water soon.

He managed to roll himself over and get up on his knees propping himself up with his tail as a tripod. He blinked and noticed a glint in the sand next to him, Big portions of the canvas sail had been cut and stacked, weighed down by a big black hunk of volcanic pumice. And arranged in a neat little pile dozens of brass guide rings, clips, and even a few iron nails and hooks.

He looked around frantically, someone had to put him here. If they wanted him dead they wouldn't have bothered to take off his wet clothes and start the fire he reasoned. That's when he spotted the shape under water, at first he thought it was part of the sail, but it moved...and now it was coming toward the beach. It swam like a snake or fish. A few dozen feet from the shore a head popped from the water, big wide set eyes on a light brown and white head. The creature stood, shorter than Meek even. It had scales but not like his, they were flat and linked together tightly and smooth, much smaller than his. Its streamlined head sported a pointy snout with tiny sharp teeth no horns or ears. From the tip of its snout to the end of its rather fat tail it sported a chevron pattern in muted tan and brown. Short clawed digitigrade legs like him, and arms about his size, its claws were different though. Its fingers were wide and flat with only a tiny claw at the end of each. As it got closer he noted it had small shoulders, a flat chest, and wide hips...as it was naked, sporting only a few woven cords worn like a shoulder strap holding some tools, green leaves worn like pouches he noted it was definitely female...he was less concerned about this and more concerned with the low to the ground stance she took and the short 4 pronged spear at her side.

He put his claw out, “Woah...you don't need spear! I's no hurt you, promise!” Meek smiled big toothy grin eyes warily on the spear. The female lizard creature stopped in her tracks a few feet from the fire, her head bobbing rapidly. She tilted it to the side like a curious dog, sea water dripped from her. Meek was a bit taken aback when her long tongue snaked from her mouth and licked a bead of it from her eye...her pupils were strange and had 4 diamond shaped dots running top to bottom, slightly different than his red slit pupils. Hers he noted were golden, he realized with a bit of a shock that she didn't have solid eyelids, only the transparent ones kobolds had under their regular ones for swimming, giving her an unnerving stare.

She looked from his gaze to her spear and back again. She stuck it butt down in the sand and took a step forward speaking up. Meek jumped again in surprise. Her rapid-fire speech was the strangest language he ever heard, it sounded like a mix of birds chirping rapidly mixed with a really big frog croaking. She spoke faster and in an even higher pitch then any kobold he ever knew, the cadence of her speech was like someone going to town on a snare drum. And she spoke it while advancing on him with both her claws gesturing excitedly!

*Update 2/15/19*

“Woah! Meek no understand you. Speaks slower!” The overwhelmed kobold sat with his claws in front of him as his rescuer advanced poking and prodding him while she fired off strings of words and chirps at him. She had a hand on his horn tugging at it while he tried to fend her off weakly. Trying to get her to understand, he patted his chest slowly.

“Meek is my name, you understand? Meek Undersaaaak!”

While he was playing at diplomat she was still playing naturalist, interested at his thicker wider tongue and larger peg-like teeth she fearlessly jammed her claw on into his mouth and had a feel.

He struggled to try to extract the wide flat fingers from his mouth. “Oooooh!” she trilled as she ran the smooth digits over his teeth.

“Fuck!” he yelled, sputtering and spiting finally managing to wrench the questing digits from his mouth. He gagged trying to get the salt taste out, coughing so violently he wretched. When he stopped seeing little flashes of light behind his eyelids Meek opened them to a coconut being held out to him, a little curled up leaf used as a stopper. He pulled it and drank greedily, eliciting more coughing. She patted him on the back forcing him to take it slower.

“Thanks.” Meek managed, handing her back her water flask.

She grinned widely her little teeth showing, the little native poked him in the chest.
“Fuck!” she squeaked back at him.

“Meek is my name! That is bad word!” He snapped a little more irritated then he meant to sound. She grinned right back at him either ignoring or oblivious to his irritation, staring a moment before ducking down and coming up with a double handful of brass sail rings. She jingled them at him and fired her rapid-fire speech at him. Repeatedly pushing it to her chest then his.

“Meek doesn't understand you. What do you wanna do? Keep the stuff...it no good without boat to put sail on.” He pressed the stuff toward her, this elicited pleased trills. She sat cross-legged in front of him playing with the shiniest bits and looking up at him from time to time.

“You are kobold?” He asked. “I never see kobold like you before.” She seized up at the words, looking angry almost.

Maybe she spoke his language...Yipyak was the spoken language of the kobolds, a mix of draconic and earlier tribal languages... his was highly influenced by the port city kobolds on the mainland with hundreds of years of integration with humans and other cultures. Lots of the bigger warrens and tribes had distinct dialects of it that only shared basic common words and themes.

<Are you a kobold? I have never seen one like you before, no horns, strange eyes, tiny claws. Is that why you want that metal stuff? It's not treasure you know.>

He pointed at the stuff she was playing with, and she hissed.
Meek sighed and sat back. At least she had helped him out of the water. She eyed him with a bit of distrust now.

<I don't suppose you speak draconic do you? I doubt the library here has a very good selection of books.> he said almost broodingly in draconic as he looked into the sand. When he looked up he started because she was an inch away from his face with a look of awe on her strange wide-eyed face.

<You! Speak old words!> She didn't seem to want to let go of her brass just yet and clutched it fiercely. <Why you come? What you?> Without eyelids her intense stare from this close was unnerving.

Meek was finally getting somewhere and thought carefully how to best and simply explain where he came from. <I am a kobold, I was on a ship. Like a little boat but very big with sails, they are like wings for boats. A storm broke our ship and I fell into the sea. And I washed up here where you found me. Are you a kobold too?>

She bobbed her head putting down her little hoard and pulled her spear from the sand, when Meek flinched she laid it down next to her. <You come from sea? Only fish and turtles come! You lie! You kobold where dragon!> She gripped the shaft of spear tightly.

Meek shook his head. <I don't know any dragons! I've never even seen one before! I swear, I was on a ship and I fell off in a storm helping my friends.>

She tilted her head. He couldn't tell how much she actually understood and his life probably hinged on it. <Why you kobold? If with friend?>

Meek shrugged. <I don't understand, Its just what I am? What are you if you aren't a kobold.>

The lizard picked up her spear and made Meek flinch, but she pounded the shaft against her chest and held her head high. <I Kumakena! No kobold anymore! Free!>

Meek could only shrug again, her word wasn't a draconian one. <I'm free too, I'm just a kobold. I don't understand what you mean.>

She seemed perplexed as well. <How you both? Kobold no free. Means no free...Kobold means must work, be hurt, do things not like! For dragon!>

Meek think he got it now. <To me it just means I'm a short lizard with horns and claws. What does Kumakena mean?>

She tilted her head. <Sad cry. You not small, you big.> She didn't look sad at all. For such a tiny thing she looked healthy, well fed, and feisty.

<And you don't look sad. Thank you for helping me, I would have died if you had left me out there. My name is Meek.> He offered his claw finally taking it in his and shaking it up and down. <What is your name?>

She seemed confused still, but physical contact seemed to be more her speed then language and she couldn't help but loosen up, her natural curiosity getting the better of her. <Name is Noa. I swim, hunt fish. Hunt animal, find many good things for tribe. Nobody ever find treasure, big kobold like you. You like dragon! I show you tribe, they like me and you much!>