Rainblade-Ryalors Private East Tookumberry The Poison Fox and the Singed Rose

Captain Dawson of the Sparrowhawk, a rat temporarily relieved of command and relegated to first officer status, nodded as the small schooner maneuvered through the Tookumberry Keys. "That's the island there, Cap'n," he addressed the guest who had assumed his command. "Doesn't have a proper name on the Imperial charts. Mos' sorts 'round here take to callin' it Admiral Island, on account of the Admiral Rainblade Inn." He nodded grimly toward a burnt husk of a building, the scorch marks still fresh but for a few seasonal rains. "Guess they'll have to find a new name for it now," he reflected.

He made a gesture, and his men worked to trim the sails, slowing their speed as they approached a long dock, not built large enough to handle the greater ships like the navy vessels or merchant frigates that came in and out of Bully Harbor. For the Sparrowsong, however, it was just the right size. The ship had been retrofitted with an experimental design - a small engine, the only evidence of it a pipe running up the mainmast to clear the smoke out above the main deck, installed on the rower's deck below, and paddles mounted on swivel hinges and attached to a complicated gear mechanism. The only sign that anything was off was that the oars in their 'stowed' position were tucked back against the outside hull of the ship, forming a long frill like a fin; when it got going, though, the ship could add a burst of speed by engaging the engine and setting the oars going. It wasn't quite as fast or effective as a dedicated team of rowers, and the coal required to power the engine was an additional weight on the ship, one whose efficacy was debatable. Still, Dusk had been quite determined to separate the ship from its history as a slaving vessel, and repurposing the space originally used by its rowing slaves had been part of that philosophy.

The rat captain nodded to the guest who had command of the vessel as they pulled up to the dock, several of the crew jumping to secure the craft with ropes and push the boarding ramp to form a bridge. "Figured that searchin' th' ruins first made sense, Cap'n. If y' find 'er, in any condition, cuts our trip short." He pointed southward, advising, "Town on th' island is only a five minute walk. We can move th' ship t' dock there if ye want, bu' honestly, walkin' may be quicker. Jus' let us know."
 
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