At first light, beneath a grey and watchful sky, the party
made their way to the abandoned far side of the island. There they carried the
remains of Niao — a stranger in death as in life — whose ghost, restless and
agitated, hovered at their heels. Her spirit would not settle, and the land
offered no clear place of rest.
No graveyard marked the terrain. Disguised by the illusions
of Mustafa, Bojing approached a local for guidance. The man asked for money
before answering. Suspicious but determined, Bojing and Zakshi took to the
skies with the aid of Fyny, Zakshi’s levitating sword. From above, they spotted
the cemetery — close, but the only road to it was guarded by a band of armed
soldiers.
With deft use of Mustafa’s Seeming spell and cloaks of
invisibility, the party concealed their identities and transformed into a
solemn group of mourners. In this guise, they passed through unnoticed and
unchallenged.
The graveyard lay in quiet disrepair. Open graves yawned in
the earth, some ancient and overgrown. The ghost of Niao grew increasingly
disturbed. They chose one of the forgotten hollows, placed her remains inside,
and took up shovels left nearby. As they covered her with earth, two local
gravediggers approached. The party offered to let them continue, but the men
simply nodded and watched.
When the last of the earth had been laid down, the ghost of
Niao finally vanished.
With their grim task behind them, they returned to their
ship — the Crimson Reprieve — where the cursed Captain Hu awaited. That night,
as the harbourmaster had warned, an invitation arrived from the Duke of Guibao.
All attended, save for Captain Hu.
The Duke’s household sat uneasily on the land — a recent
invention of nobility, overcompensating with silk and spice. The island, once
called Zhuazhu, had been renamed Guibao, and the name hung heavily in the air
like false perfume. The food was outrageously spiced, almost deliberately
inedible, and the rooms were filled with statues of Youshi — a drowned child
whose corpse the party hoped to recover, in order to break the ancient curse
binding Hu and his crew.
The Duke and his kin claimed Youshi had been their own — a
beloved child, tragically lost to the sea.
But Salt, ever watchful, suspected darker things. A
sorceress and seasoned sailor, she saw signs of a shared curse — the same mark
that plagued Hu. She whispered her suspicions to the others: that the family
had bargained away Youshi long ago, handing her over to Hu and his master, the
deathless Acererak.
Back on board the Crimson Reprieve, they readied to leave
Guibao behind. Youshi’s corpse, they believed, lay near Acererak’s island — but
Captain Hu, shackled to his curse, could only recall its location in part. It
drifted in and out of his memory like sea-mist.
Then Lao Ren, the old man who had quietly joined the crew in
recent days, spoke. He was seeking "the clever ones," he said, and
knew a friend — Ma Tsu — a mystic who lived on Tushuguan Island. Ma Tsu, he
claimed, would know where Acererak’s island could be found.
The party agreed. Their next destination was set.
But Guibao would not release them so easily.
As they left port, a swift vessel came in pursuit. The
harbourmaster, flanked by thirty armed sailors, demanded payment of extravagant
taxes he had tried to impose upon their arrival. The party refused.
Ryu, ever quick with the elements, conjured a whirlpool on
the far side of their ship. Mustafa added to the illusion, filling their own
deck with writhing, monstrous snakes. The pursuing ship faltered, then turned
and fled.
Bojing called out for a refund of the hundred tael they had
paid. The harbourmaster responded with a dripping envelope containing four.
So ended their dealings with Guibao.
Their voyage brought them to Tushuguan Island, a quiet place
tucked between reefs. A small party ventured ashore and found a modest inn. But
peace was fleeting.
From outside the inn’s walls came a deep, beast-like snort.
The inn’s patrons waved it off, unconcerned. Then, without warning, a massive,
armor-plated ox crashed through the wall, shaking the earth . . .
servants tried to corral it . . . and were turned to stone by its breath . . .
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