Waves Breaking: Chapter One
New Beginnings
He woke, drifting amidst flotsam, clinging to a piece of wood, shivering.
The sun shone bright, beating down on him. His skin was peeling. His throat was parched.
Towering cliffs rose in front of him, straight out of the sea. Debris from a shipwreck floated around him.
He looked out at the sea, seeing nothing but another island in the distance.
No ships on the horizon. No others floating in the water.
He couldn’t remember what happened.
He couldn’t even remember his name1.
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There was nothing for it, he thought, looking at the cliff face.
He had to climb. Pulling himself out of the water, he noticed he had a dirk and a rapier sheathed on his belt, one on each hip.
He knew the dirk was made of iron and that was important for some reason.
He climbed, struggling for handholds, feeling with his feet, hand over hand, inch by inch. His muscles shook.
The sun beat down.
Close to the top, he slipped, hand pulling at a piece of rock that crumbled. Without thinking, he grabbed his dirk and stuck it in the cliff, stopping his fall. He tried not to look down and scrambled up the last few feet, rolling onto the top and gasping for breath.
He could hear the waves crashing far below. 2
He blocked the sun with his arm, resting. Everything hurt. His muscles were sore, but he couldn’t just stay like this. He rolled over and stood, taking his time, feeling aches and pains.
He looked out at the sea, far below and beyond, his view now greater from this height. He could see the island in the distance, and the vast sea around.
Then he turned to face inland. The mesa he’d reached was mostly plains, the landscape dominated by shrubs and grasses. Birds chirped and little rodents sprinted through the underbrush.
He turned back to the sea, in the hopes of spotting something useful. He carefully scanned his surroundings.
The cliffs dropped steeply to his right, meeting the ocean in a rocky coastline and revealing if he’d only swam around the island a short ways, he wouldn’t have had to climb such a distance.
What he saw by the shoreline caught his attention.
A shipwreck, adrift on the surface of the water. It was of medium size, perhaps a corvette or a schooner, and most important of all, mostly intact.
He let out a breath. A name came to him, suddenly. “Harrow,” he whispered. They used to call him Harrow, a nickname, but the only name he had for now.
It took him an hour to make his way down the steep hill towards the shoreline.
He swam out to the ship and climbed up the side which had been blackened by fire some time ago.
Once on board, the ship creaked as he moved about. There was no sign of a crew.
He made his way through the ship, looking for anything of use. Below decks, the spaces were cramped and the quiet was unnerving. His own steps sounded loud and the only other sound was the gentle waves lapping at the shore outside3.
Though lacking in supplies, the ship looked nearly seaworthy. Perhaps he could get it functional again, at least enough to make it to the other island and hopefully find supplies.
It was long, difficult work. Clearing debris, pulling off burnt and blackened boards, replacing it with what he could find, patching holes in the sail, jury-rigging parts and pieces as best he could. He was surprised he knew what to do and how, though he supposed it made sense he was a sailor of some kind, since he’d washed up amidst debris from a shipwreck.
Eventually, it was seaworthy. It didn’t look great, still blackened and sagging low in the water but it would do for now. It would be extremely difficult to pilot by himself but he could at least get it to the other island he saw.4
He dropped the sails, caught the wind and the ship pulled away from the island. He spun the helm, steering the ship towards the other island he’d seen. His stomach grumbled, his muscles were aching, and he was tired, barely able to keep his eyes open.
The sun set on the horizon, thrusting oranges and reds across the sky. The twin moons, Cinder and Wraith, rose.
As he approached the island, the coastline he could see was inundated with tidal flooding, as well as sunken wrecks forming an artificial reef. He spun the helm and ran to adjust the sails, trying to avoid getting stuck on the reef. The ship groaned but turned, sailing around the island.5
He found a rugged boulder beach and drew up the sail, slowing the ship. He dropped the anchor. He was exhausted. The sun was gone, leaving all around him in darkness. He went below deck and slept as best he could, starving and thirsty.
Harrow huddled in a small cell in the hold of a large ship. A man stood outside the bars, poking a sword in the gaps, laughing. “We got you now,” the man said. “Ain’t nowhere to run anymore.”
The boat rocked as if struck by something large. Again, hard enough you could hear wood crunch and splinter.
Harrow heard screams coming from above deck. He closed his eyes.
In the morning, he explored the island. It consisted of low-lying wetlands which had been ravaged by fire, the land black and charred, with bits of life here and there slowly returning. He found nothing of substance and returned to his ship.
He gripped the railing with white knuckles, staring out at the sea. He felt weak. He looked down at the wood under his hands. He wouldn’t be able to sail this ship by himself for any reasonable distance. Who knew how far the next isle or settlement was?
Maybe it was time to give up. Maybe this was the end.
He looked up and saw a ship. It was of similar size to the one he had, with 3 masts and close. He noticed it had a large harpoon cannon on the side and hidden gun ports. The flag bore a mermaid with beautiful scales.
He raised his hands and yelled, trying to draw their attention. “I’m here! Please! I’m stranded! Help, please!” He called out, his voice haggard and raw. He fell to his knees, tears coming to his eyes, as the ship approached.
He was saved.
Harrow was in chains.
They’d boarded his boat, taken his weapons and clapped him in irons, ignoring everything he said, bringing him back over to their ship.
A parrot squawked from a nearby perch.
He noticed the ship itself was in general disrepair, not well-maintained either through laziness, lack of knowledge or bad leadership, he couldn’t tell.
The captain, displaying a fine coat, many gold rings and a white wig, scowled at Harrow. “You grovel before Captain Hammond of the Shrouded Supremacy, an empire which rules these waters,” he said. “Tell me who you are and what you are doing in the Dagger Keys.” He gestured to the pair of islands.
“I awoke over there, by the cliffs in the water, amidst a shipwreck. I have no memory of what happened before I woke.” Harrow said, trying to get the words out of his dry throat. “I found that ship nearby, repaired it and managed to sail it over here, looking for supplies. I found nothing…and then you found me.”
Captain Hammond looked surprised. “You repaired that ship and managed to sail it, alone?”
Harrow nodded, looking down.
“Interesting,” Hammond said. “We may have use for a shipwright. Will you pledge yourself to The Shrouded Supremacy?”
There wasn’t much choice. “Of course, my captain,” Harrow said, bowing his head. “I pledge myself to your cause.”
“Do you remember your name?”
“Only a nickname. Harrow.”
“A name of ill-luck,” Hammond said. “You are now in my service. See that you do your job well.” He looked to other crew members. “Release him. Get him some water and food. We have a new crew member.”
End Chapter One
I’m taking a break from Kol Noth to dive into Sundered Isles, a “Pirates of the Caribbean”-ish hack of Starforged by Shawn Tomkins, which was recently completed and released.
I’m starting with a character with no memory, +0 supply and no ship. Disregarding the rules, I didn’t generate a starting area of islands, or a set of factions. I’m generating everything as I go. I really felt a burst of creativity when I thought of it, so I’m running with it. I’m not sure how long I’ll go but it does feel nice to write/play an ongoing story again.
I’m also trying something new, dropping my intro blurb to the end, and using footnotes for the mechanics, leaving the narrative nice and clean for those who maybe just want to read the story and ignore the mechanical stuff. Let me know what you think in the comments!
My playing and writing will always be available for free, but if you enjoy what I write and would be willing, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription which allows you to vote on the tools/games I play. If that’s too much commitment, you can also just buy me a coffee.
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Check out the Table of Contents for previous games I’ve played as well as other stuff I’ve written.
Character Name: Unknown. Nickname: Harrow
Stats: Edge 2, Heart 1, Iron 3, Shadow 1 Wits 2
Background Vow: Find out who I am
Assets: Jinx, Cutthroat, Kraken
Momentum: 2, Health: 5, Supply: 0
Face Danger + Iron + Cutthroat: 1d6+4 vs 2d10 = 5 vs (4,8)→ Weak. Endure Harm(-1). Resist + Iron. d6+3 vs 2d10 = 4 vs (9,9)→ Miss. -1 additional Health. Health = 3. Scoring a Miss with a Match makes my Jinx Asset into an Impact, affecting my Momentum. I can clear it by getting a Strong Hit with a Match.
Resupply + Wits: 5 vs (6,7) = Miss. Shipwreck Peril → Confined and unnerving spaces
Repair + Wits: 5 vs (1,3) = Strong Hit. 4 Repair Points. Clear Battered. +2 Integrity. I gain Incidental Vehicle: Sailing Ship
Face Danger + Wits: 7 vs 7,5 = Weak Hit. -1 Momentum.
This is exceptional. There are tons of solo journals out there, but your writing makes this one a standout.
I love the slow burn, steady pace of this. There's a subliminal dread in it.
The details are visceral and the play n' see is built in for those versed in Ironsworn without distracting from the narrative.
So glad I found this.
A pirate tale, exciting! I don't mind the foot notes, but I do like reading mechanics.