Ziggy Ziggy !
Running across the dock, towards the warehouses that looked like the only things that might provide any shelter, he spied the young man tucked into one of the doorways. He wasn’t alone though, with him was a curious female halfling dressed in flamboyant gear, and carrying a stringed instrument that was literally as big as she was. He reached them at just about the same time as the sounds of the docked ships beginning to creak in the blow.
“Mister, I can’t move. I’d be blown clean away.” The halfling was clutching the young man’s leg, now.
“Don’t worry, little miss. We’ll take shelter inside. If you’ll just let me loose for a second?” As she released him, he took a small running start and slammed the full force of his weight into the door. The frame gave a slight groan before he collapsed backwards onto the cobbles, giving out a much louder groan.
“Don’t be worrying yourself fancy man. Where there’s a crowbar, there’s a way.” The pale one pulled an impressive looking jimmy from an oddly designed holster he was wearing. Placing it between door and jamb, he gave it an expert shove, popping the door open. The presence of the crowbar and the deftness with which it had been wielded gave the impression that he had done this many, many times, but the other two had no time to comment as they hurried into the warehouse.
The warehouse was deserted, save for row after row of crates and a lot of darkness. The group moved a ways into the gloom to escape the wind and rain blowing from the now useless door.
“We should be safe in here.”, said the young man, sitting down on a box.
“Thanks for your help outside, Mister ...?”, the halfling was goggling up at him.
“Oh, my names Wesley. What’s your name Little Miss?” The halfling stamped her foot in agitation, causing a less than musical twang to emanate from her instrument. “Let’s get one thing straight bub, just cause I’m small doesn’t mean I’m young.” Her voice returned to it’s previous cute chirp, “And I’m the illustrious troubadour, Moonbean.” Her voice went deadly serious again as she jabbed a finger at him, “Got it?” “Uhh, huh.” Managed the young man before he changed the subject, “And you stranger, what’s your name?” The reply emanated from somewhere behind them, further on into the warehouse. “You can rest if you want, but Ziggy is going to seek shelter at the back, where the wind is much less likely to throw a ship.” As if to punctuate his statement, a resounding crash could be heard outside, but nearby. The two looked at each other and then ran to catch up. While they were making their way towards the back, the warehouse began to creak ominously in the wind. A little further and they were at the backdoor.
As they groaning and creaking of the warehouse timbers grew louder, Walter turned to Ziggy and asked, “What are the chances that you might lever open another door?” Ziggy grinned, “It would be Ziggy’s pleasure.” He was setting his bar into the doorjamb when he felt a tug on one of his arms. Turning, he saw Moonbean looking at him earnestly. “Yes?” “Mister, why not just undo the latch and open the door. No need for the pry bar. She pointed at the door, which was, just as she had said only latched shut.
With a disapproving sniff and infinite dignity, Ziggy procured a second crowbar and using the hooked ends lifted the bar out of the latch. He probably would have followed that up with a “hah”, but as soon as the bar was gone, the door burst open. The wind had increased 3x fold since they’d entered the warehouse and now it was full of flying debris and pelting rain. They took their chances, sandwiching themselves limpet like to the back wall, here at least, they might survive the collapse of the warehouse. They were not alone on that wall, for a very bedraggled figure looked at them first in surprise, then in recognition, and then in anger.
“You! This is your fault!”, screamed a very irate ship captain, pointing a finger at Wesley.
“What? What did I do?.” “Oh don’t give me that, I saws it. I saw you activate the Tempest Stone. Saw it just like I saw that one, pick up my treasure off the ground.” He jabbed his finger at Ziggy, whose only reply was to whistle tunelessly.
“If you saw that, then you must have seen that it was your men who dropped it in the first place.” “I didn’t see anything of the sort, but it’s all water behind the prow now. You started it so you get to stop it.” “And how do we do that, Mister ...?”, chimed in Moonbean.
“You hold it in your right hand and say the command word, of course.” “It doesn’t like to be held, sort of flies away if you try.” Was Ziggy’s contribution.
“Of course it does. It KNOWs if you know the command word.” “Do you know the command?”, asked Moonbean.
“Course I do. It’s uhh ...” There was a distant look to his eyes as he absentmindedly patted his pockets. “It’s um ... ‘Oglethorpe’. Yes, ‘Oglethorpe’, that’s the stuff.” “I guess it’s up to us” shouted Wesley as he and Moonbean crab walked back towards the door.
“Your funeral” was all Ziggy said as he glared darkly at the groaning warehouse and ran up an alley back towards the dock. About two seconds after the others had entered the warehouse, a particularly strong gust of wind picked him off his feet and sent him flying. Meanwhile, Wesley and Moonbean had their own problems. Now that the warehouse was open at both ends, the wind was blowing through it like a wind tunnel and debris was everywhere. They’d travel only thirty feet before Moonbean tripped forward thanks to a combination of flying wood and wind. Wesley helped her up, but they hadn’t even started before she was knocked down again.
“How much do you weigh?”, Wesley asked, sizing up Moonbean.
“That’s none of your business.” Was all that could be heard in reply.
“Righto then.” He said as he bent over and picked her up like a sack of potatoes. She was probably outraged, but with the wind and all he didn’t hear it. Running quickly he managed to avoid most of the rest of it as he made his way outside. He could see the stone, blazing away like a star, but not much else in the pouring rain. Getting down closer to the ground he began to move slowly towards it, the wind battling him anyway.
From out of the darkness there came a sudden movement, and the weight on his shoulder was gone. Looking back he saw that a huge piece of wood, presumably a ships mast, had just missed him. Moonbean had not been so lucky. Bending over her, and taking shelter behind the mast he screamed over the wind, “Are you okay?” “Seven purple bean sprouts. Yes maam, no maam ...” Moonbean was gibbering, and her eyes were crossed. She didn’t seem hurt otherwise, but he didn’t have time to check. He left her behind as began moving towards the stone. The stone was staring at him. Rationally, he knew that something without eyes couldn’t stare, but it didn’t change the fact that it was. He snatched at it, but it darted out of the way, eluding his grasp.
Ziggy suddenly materialized out of the darkness to his right and extended his right hand. “OGLETHORPE!”. The stone sped to his hand and began to fade in brilliance. Cocking his head in appraisal, Ziggy took one look at it and shoved it into a pocket.
The winds were lessening noticeably now, though still at hurricane forces. Ziggy and Wesley made their way back to Moonbean, who was sitting up behind the mast, if not entirely coherent yet.
“Mister, your pants are glowing.” “They often do short song, they often do.”
“Ewwww.” Suddenly, Wesley turned his head. “Hey do you guys hear something? It sounds like screaming...” In the water right off the dock, despite the choppiness of the seas, he could see a man struggling to stay a float. He took off for the dock, running as fast as the wind and rain would allow. From a closer vantage point he could see that it was the captain of the dock guards. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Ziggy had followed him, but then run further along the dock. He had more pressing matters at hand though, like finding a rope.
As Wesley reached the captain, Ziggy noticed someone else struggling further on along the dock. He rushed over to within earshot of the drowning man.
“So stranger, how much is your life worth.” “Oh thank the gods. Help me! Help Me!” What!?” “All I’m saying is, I’m selling rope. How much do you want for it? That’s all.” “That’s insane. Blorble. Drowning and you try to gurgle.” “I’m just saying, you know. You’ve got one life and there’s an awful lot of rope here. It’d be a shame if...” “...” “Negotiations having fallen through, we can discuss price later.”
“Mister, I can’t move. I’d be blown clean away.” The halfling was clutching the young man’s leg, now.
“Don’t worry, little miss. We’ll take shelter inside. If you’ll just let me loose for a second?” As she released him, he took a small running start and slammed the full force of his weight into the door. The frame gave a slight groan before he collapsed backwards onto the cobbles, giving out a much louder groan.
“Don’t be worrying yourself fancy man. Where there’s a crowbar, there’s a way.” The pale one pulled an impressive looking jimmy from an oddly designed holster he was wearing. Placing it between door and jamb, he gave it an expert shove, popping the door open. The presence of the crowbar and the deftness with which it had been wielded gave the impression that he had done this many, many times, but the other two had no time to comment as they hurried into the warehouse.
The warehouse was deserted, save for row after row of crates and a lot of darkness. The group moved a ways into the gloom to escape the wind and rain blowing from the now useless door.
“We should be safe in here.”, said the young man, sitting down on a box.
“Thanks for your help outside, Mister ...?”, the halfling was goggling up at him.
“Oh, my names Wesley. What’s your name Little Miss?” The halfling stamped her foot in agitation, causing a less than musical twang to emanate from her instrument. “Let’s get one thing straight bub, just cause I’m small doesn’t mean I’m young.” Her voice returned to it’s previous cute chirp, “And I’m the illustrious troubadour, Moonbean.” Her voice went deadly serious again as she jabbed a finger at him, “Got it?” “Uhh, huh.” Managed the young man before he changed the subject, “And you stranger, what’s your name?” The reply emanated from somewhere behind them, further on into the warehouse. “You can rest if you want, but Ziggy is going to seek shelter at the back, where the wind is much less likely to throw a ship.” As if to punctuate his statement, a resounding crash could be heard outside, but nearby. The two looked at each other and then ran to catch up. While they were making their way towards the back, the warehouse began to creak ominously in the wind. A little further and they were at the backdoor.
As they groaning and creaking of the warehouse timbers grew louder, Walter turned to Ziggy and asked, “What are the chances that you might lever open another door?” Ziggy grinned, “It would be Ziggy’s pleasure.” He was setting his bar into the doorjamb when he felt a tug on one of his arms. Turning, he saw Moonbean looking at him earnestly. “Yes?” “Mister, why not just undo the latch and open the door. No need for the pry bar. She pointed at the door, which was, just as she had said only latched shut.
With a disapproving sniff and infinite dignity, Ziggy procured a second crowbar and using the hooked ends lifted the bar out of the latch. He probably would have followed that up with a “hah”, but as soon as the bar was gone, the door burst open. The wind had increased 3x fold since they’d entered the warehouse and now it was full of flying debris and pelting rain. They took their chances, sandwiching themselves limpet like to the back wall, here at least, they might survive the collapse of the warehouse. They were not alone on that wall, for a very bedraggled figure looked at them first in surprise, then in recognition, and then in anger.
“You! This is your fault!”, screamed a very irate ship captain, pointing a finger at Wesley.
“What? What did I do?.” “Oh don’t give me that, I saws it. I saw you activate the Tempest Stone. Saw it just like I saw that one, pick up my treasure off the ground.” He jabbed his finger at Ziggy, whose only reply was to whistle tunelessly.
“If you saw that, then you must have seen that it was your men who dropped it in the first place.” “I didn’t see anything of the sort, but it’s all water behind the prow now. You started it so you get to stop it.” “And how do we do that, Mister ...?”, chimed in Moonbean.
“You hold it in your right hand and say the command word, of course.” “It doesn’t like to be held, sort of flies away if you try.” Was Ziggy’s contribution.
“Of course it does. It KNOWs if you know the command word.” “Do you know the command?”, asked Moonbean.
“Course I do. It’s uhh ...” There was a distant look to his eyes as he absentmindedly patted his pockets. “It’s um ... ‘Oglethorpe’. Yes, ‘Oglethorpe’, that’s the stuff.” “I guess it’s up to us” shouted Wesley as he and Moonbean crab walked back towards the door.
“Your funeral” was all Ziggy said as he glared darkly at the groaning warehouse and ran up an alley back towards the dock. About two seconds after the others had entered the warehouse, a particularly strong gust of wind picked him off his feet and sent him flying. Meanwhile, Wesley and Moonbean had their own problems. Now that the warehouse was open at both ends, the wind was blowing through it like a wind tunnel and debris was everywhere. They’d travel only thirty feet before Moonbean tripped forward thanks to a combination of flying wood and wind. Wesley helped her up, but they hadn’t even started before she was knocked down again.
“How much do you weigh?”, Wesley asked, sizing up Moonbean.
“That’s none of your business.” Was all that could be heard in reply.
“Righto then.” He said as he bent over and picked her up like a sack of potatoes. She was probably outraged, but with the wind and all he didn’t hear it. Running quickly he managed to avoid most of the rest of it as he made his way outside. He could see the stone, blazing away like a star, but not much else in the pouring rain. Getting down closer to the ground he began to move slowly towards it, the wind battling him anyway.
From out of the darkness there came a sudden movement, and the weight on his shoulder was gone. Looking back he saw that a huge piece of wood, presumably a ships mast, had just missed him. Moonbean had not been so lucky. Bending over her, and taking shelter behind the mast he screamed over the wind, “Are you okay?” “Seven purple bean sprouts. Yes maam, no maam ...” Moonbean was gibbering, and her eyes were crossed. She didn’t seem hurt otherwise, but he didn’t have time to check. He left her behind as began moving towards the stone. The stone was staring at him. Rationally, he knew that something without eyes couldn’t stare, but it didn’t change the fact that it was. He snatched at it, but it darted out of the way, eluding his grasp.
Ziggy suddenly materialized out of the darkness to his right and extended his right hand. “OGLETHORPE!”. The stone sped to his hand and began to fade in brilliance. Cocking his head in appraisal, Ziggy took one look at it and shoved it into a pocket.
The winds were lessening noticeably now, though still at hurricane forces. Ziggy and Wesley made their way back to Moonbean, who was sitting up behind the mast, if not entirely coherent yet.
“Mister, your pants are glowing.” “They often do short song, they often do.”
“Ewwww.” Suddenly, Wesley turned his head. “Hey do you guys hear something? It sounds like screaming...” In the water right off the dock, despite the choppiness of the seas, he could see a man struggling to stay a float. He took off for the dock, running as fast as the wind and rain would allow. From a closer vantage point he could see that it was the captain of the dock guards. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Ziggy had followed him, but then run further along the dock. He had more pressing matters at hand though, like finding a rope.
As Wesley reached the captain, Ziggy noticed someone else struggling further on along the dock. He rushed over to within earshot of the drowning man.
“So stranger, how much is your life worth.” “Oh thank the gods. Help me! Help Me!” What!?” “All I’m saying is, I’m selling rope. How much do you want for it? That’s all.” “That’s insane. Blorble. Drowning and you try to gurgle.” “I’m just saying, you know. You’ve got one life and there’s an awful lot of rope here. It’d be a shame if...” “...” “Negotiations having fallen through, we can discuss price later.”