Yaro ponders the information, thinking deeply. "So, should we start by investigating that shipwreck? I would imagine that might be a good place to get a lead on the pirates."

((OOC: Changing my character text color, to hopefully improve clarity between characters))

Abner

To Dreak: "Er, yeah. But let's get on shore first. But, yeah."

Abner squints at the land near the wreck. How does the shore look nearby? Although he assumes the boat is currently being rowed toward the beach on the SE part of the island, could the boat theoretically be launched later from the shore near the wreck? Does it look accessible on foot? Rocky? Cliff-y? Any big rocks in the water nearby, or obvious clues as to how it met its demise?

Perception: 15

(Edit: Abner slowly realizes he probably should look toward the island, and not have his back to it.) 

Zagrot stares intently at Red, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. When the bard holds out the crowbar, the orc takes it, then quickly and kindly responds, "Yes! We share weapons!" He leans down to his pack, unfastens a single javelin from the bundle, and presents it to Red. "I thank you!"

“I pray to Bahamut, the deity I serve.  I pray that we stay safe, that my hammer arm stays strong, that my shield arm endures, and that I can always see the beauty that is around me.  Do you pray to those you mentioned?”

Brozak looks about as he continues to row, enjoying the view around him.

Accepting the javelin with a bow, Red maintains a smile as he mutters in Infernal Crap I forgot that could happen. Of course that'd happen you fool. Effing noble poor people can't give them anything. Could you say 'share with me by sticking it in my enemy'? Too late. Friends share weapons effing idiot horns-for-brains. Nice effing redemption swindling a crowbar for a real weapon

but shakes it off to appreciate Zagrot Thank you

"Ba-ha-mut," the orc repeats, carefully pronouncing each syllable. "He give you strength. I see in battle."

"I no pray," he says to Brozak, a hint of sadness creeping into his raspy voice. "Gruumsh no like..." and he pauses in thought. "...no like orc who think before fight."

"Maybe Luthic still listen to I? Luthic is orc Cave Mother. Luthic like orc who save fight for must-to-do. I no know if she listen still."

Zagrot begins tossing the crowbar in his hand, feeling the heft of it. "Ba-ha-mut," he says to himself in a loud whisper.

Red leans in towards Zagrot There's deities for you. Notwithstanding your experiences, of course, Brother Brozak, Brother Yaro. Some of them are more stalwart than others. But, they say, "never trust a deity or a government"; that is too extreme, maybe just look twice, and test them three times before you pick. Of course, they are testing you at the same time - a tricky relationship between gods and folks.

then towards the prow: Sister Therne, did not mean to leave you out - I've not heard you invoke a deity. I assumed you were of the Old Faith, or an equally visceral connection to Nature? If it is sensitive, of course, I'll withdraw the question. But I know hymns and cantings for many faiths, if I can be of service. Notwithstanding my own failings, of course.

"I thank you," Zagrot responds to Red, smiling as politely as an orc can, and continues scanning the approaching shoreline.

After the tiefling's conversation with Therne concludes, Zagrot turns his attention back to him. "I no yet know Sister Therne. I also no yet know all other-landers. I think they no know I. You teach all us names?"

Otherlanders, not a bad band name, or the Others, or Monsters Incorporated, or Unstable Beams, or the Odd Squad. We haven't decided what to call ourselves. Seldom's Angels (or Suckers), Redemption and his Sidekicks, the Redemption Malxis Project....

Red is dropping his usual flowery honorifics for clarity, but playing a snippet of a melody for each

Therne Wildcloack, a Druid, halfling they call her people, more properly hin, the big-little-bear-lady. Bron Y Aur Stomp

Abner, our Sorcerer, bearded Half-elf with extra scales. He can blow stuff up. Corona

Yaro has just joined us, a Tempest Cleric, healer and storm-bringer. Tortle his kind are called. Ancestor Song

Brozak you know, Dragonborn Paladin, a warrior and also a healer. A Bud Like You

If you have not heard, this is Zagrot, Orc Barbarian, fearless in battle, quick to help. Sin Nombre

Your chronicler, Redemption Malxis, my people called tieflings, as a Bard I do a little of everything. Walk on Gilded Splinters

And Ebokk Lockforge, our current employer, a Dwarf of mighty hammer, brings us together. South Side

Abner

Getting impatient with this surprisingly long row to shore, Abner starts to hum a tune he remembers hearing Red play before. At each chorus he hops up and down slightly to jiggle the small boat.

Hmmm hm hm hm hm... HM! HM! HM!  Hmmm hm hm hm hm... HM! HM! HM!

“We have no name for it, as faiths go, for it is hardly a faith to believe that we are all simply a part of nature when you are presented with the fact of it every day,” Therne says. “Nature provides for us that which we need to live, to grow, to shelter ourselves, to communicate or explore, to fight or defend. We learn how best to do all these things by the examples in the world around us, which can overcome the greatest of our works with hardly a care.” She gestures to the shipwreck in the distance. “From the bear I can learn to defend, from the wolf I may learn to track. I can learn the ways of the earth itself and it will guide me to its secrets.”

Answering Therne with a nod of recognition, Well said, my friend. I must learn not to be surprised by the connections that are obviously all around us. I call on what gods are appropriate in the moment, but they are part of the universe like we are, aren't they? There is Harmony in Nature, like there is Life in the Music. Milil himself cannot make music to match the dawn chorus every day. Does his best inadequate job ssosfagtincagwip

As Red described each of the boat's occupants, Zagrot watched with interest. After each introduction, the orc's lips silently and slowly repeated the names, syllable by syllable, throughout each song snippet.

When the bard finished, Zagrot sat in silence for a few moments in thought. Then he looked up with a grunt of approval. "I like songs you make. Good for to remember names. Words are hard for I. Speak I Common only one year."

There's a short pause as he ponders the crowbar in his hands. Then he looks up. "Maybe you and I share songs to make. I know to play ko'kra-buq*," he says, miming a drumming motion in the air with the crowbar to accompany the last word. "Maybe one later day I teach to you Orc and Goblin songs for battle, for you teach to I Common songs."

Reaching into his pocket, Zagrot retrieved what looks to be a tiny piece of wooden branch. He put it in his mouth and began chewing, releasing a distinctly pungent aroma in the air around him, like a cross between rosemary, mint, and sagebrush.

For the time being the gray-skinned barbarian was content to admire his new crowbar as the others talked. Though he frowned slightly at Abner the first time he shook the tiny boat, as soon as the orc found a safe spot to sit next to Brozak, he cocked an ear towards the half-elf, seemingly entertained by the humming.

For those who speak Orcish:

Brozak notices the twig and asks, "Zagrot, what is that you are chewing?" 

He continues to row for land.  "Are we almost there? My arms are getting tired."

It takes a few minutes to row through the waves to the beach on the eastern side of the island. As you make it to shore and pull the boat up onto the sand, you can each see traces of flotsam - mostly broken timber and frayed rope - scattered on the golden stretch of land. A giant crab skitters across the pebbles in the distance, the size of a large dog and sporting a mighty claw. The perceptive ones amongst you (Therne, Yaro and Zagrot) notice another crustacean that you almost mistake for a rock a hundred or so feet away, and another one mostly submerged at the edge of the sea. As Brozak works to beach the boat, it appears that more of the giant crabs begin to slowly work their way towards your group. It would seem that the crabs are spread out and may take a while to close in on your party.

Beyond the beach, grassland stretches towards the treeline, with the stalks growing some five feet tall as they reach the woodland. 

Therne and Yaro:

[OoC]: I'm back now! Sorry for the delay, I had a mini-holiday over the weekend. I'll let you all know in advance that I won't be able to post on Wednesday, but I will be able to post this weekend for a change.

OOC: Do they appear to be approaching at a slow enough pace that Therne has time to ritually cast Speak with Animals first?

[OoC]: Not a ritual, unfortunately. They'll probably reach you in just over a minute. You may add giant crab to your known forms too.

Red will suggest Let us move to the edge of the grass - so they all come from the same direction, rather than surrounding us? Is there any food we have they might prefer to us?

[ooc Could a few of us portage the boat up off the beach? If it is not hopelessly large Red would join in moving it out of the crab's area]

[ooc btw pasted the island map into the notes if you want to refer to it there]

Quote from skuk >>

Red will suggest Let us move to the edge of the grass - so they all come from the same direction, rather than surrounding us? Is there any food we have they might prefer to us?

[ooc Could a few of us portage the boat up off the beach? If it is not hopelessly large Red would join in moving it out of the crab's area]

[OoC]: Absolutely, characters with a combined strength of 25 can carry it without needing a check. Anything less than that will need to succeed on a DC 22 Strength check to carry it.

Zagrot offers a tight-lipped smile to Brozak. "Shika.* Kino.* Um, I no know word in Common. It for you no smell orc-dog mouth."

As soon as the keel of the boat begins scraping softly on the sand, Zagrot stands up with a look of relief, glancing up and down the shoreline. He pauses and squints. "Aghzit*," he says calmly. "Lunch is coming. But I think they think backwards."

He grabs the side of the boat with one hand and vaults over the edge, splashing into the shallow surf. Leaning over the edge of the boat, the orc grabs his crowbar and shield, leaving his pack behind, and advances ten to fifteen feet in the direction of the nearest crabs. There he patiently watches the curious crustaceans, idly swinging his new weapon at his side, as his friends beach and secure the vessel.

For those who speak Orcish and/or Goblin: