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We went fishing, and we killed the gryphon that had been harassing the fisherfolk in the region. We brought back a baby gryphon to the flotilla.
The brass-winged beast that distracted our captor long enough to free ourselves was clearly a good omen. We will pursue it.
We seek the glory of this deed, and think it may be worth money to collect such metallic parts. There is a sense among some of us that we are destined to pursue this beast.
Barra is sick of crabs.
All his meals these last few weeks have been nothing but those goddamn side-scuttlers. Chowder, soup, boils. The chowder was okay, at least, when there was good grass for the cows, and the cows weren’t getting carried off.
Catching them is a simple process, but slow and steady. Excruciatingly boring, Barra thought, compared to fishing for marlin and swordfish—or even the occasional shark or porpoise. There may be a meal and coin enough in waiting for a crab pot to fill, but too little pride and nowhere near enough excitement. Barra especially liked the looks on the faces of the children on the docks when they brought in a fish two, sometimes three times as tall as a person.
The fishing gear on the 19-person boat has been idle lately. Barra looked at the full bait bucket and sighed. A shame, since it cost so damned much to get it in the first place. The cabin boy interrupted his contemplations to let him know a karvi approached, bearing the blue and gold of the Count Lutrin. A rare sight to see that cruel wretch’s colors in these parts.
These weren’t the first to come sniffing after Cioran’s bounty, but these were the first in a few weeks. Barra watched the karvi as they rowed away, mostly to make sure they weren’t doubling back to raid the ship. The cabin boy was still standing there gawking.
“Fuck off and go scrub something.”
Barra ignored the cabin boy’s sulk and turned over his new compass in his hand. When the boy left he put it in his pocket.
Catching fish of prey is simple. You start small, and work your way up. Toss out some chum and a bait a hook with a fish, and you catch a bigger fish. And do it again. And do it again. Each time, you risk everything for a greater haul. Barra had a good sense of the limits of his luck, and so was inclined both to dice and fishing.
Picking up a lingering piece of chum, Barra chucked it overboard and rubbed his hands clean in the rain. This is for the best. It’s safer to be a crab man—that gryphon has a insatiable hunger for big fish and isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Sometimes you have to know when to hold back and play it safe.
Lutrin’s goons did an admirable job with what sounded like—as best he could understand through their one crew member who shoddily spoke Ruis—was their first time catching a marlin. They took it to “Crabfeast Island,” that miserable isle of jagged rock, and tried their luck by securing the hooked marlin to a rock on the beach.
As a gambler, it seemed to Barra like they rolled the dice well. Not a single scratch on them. As they told it, they brought it down out of the sky with a single javelin, dodged a dozen talon swipes, and then all were upon it all at once. Dead before it could blink. The fiends had a kind of radiance and pride about them that they must have dug up somewhere on that island.
The crew kept pointing to the beaked head mounted on the front of their boat and using a word like “dragon.” They were almost as insistent as the nestling they had in the boat who kept screeching for more chunks of fish.
He’d miss the compass, but Barra turned the “dragon” feather—as long as his arm, almost—over in his hand, then handed it to the cabin boy to admire and tie onto something for luck. He thought about how good it would feel to catch real fish again. Something worthy of a challenge. Something w—
“…Those whelps rowed off with all our fucking fishing gear.”
Barra opened up one of the crab pots and began throwing crabs one at a time into the sea until someone restrained him.
Braga
“I will mount the head of this dragon to the front of our boat.”
Procession
“I will draw the beast’s blood first.” (First blood went to Braga)
Galti
“I will return with my arms filled with spoils from the dragon’s hoard.”
Piren
“I will take the wing off it’s horrible body with my axe!”
Girom
“This beast will not lay a talon I nor my compatriots!”