RS 43: Ship in a Bottle

Chapter 43

Ship in a Bottle

They all gathered around the bottle.

It lay on the sand glinting innocently as the sun hit the glass.

“What if it’s just a bottle?” said Prince Erik. “How do you know it’s a quest? It could be just a bottle? A discarded item floating with the jetsam of life. The ocean is a haven for lost things.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Unlikely,” said Fred.

“But think about it,” said Prince Erik, warming to his theme. Prince Hans groaned and rolled his eyes. “Sometimes a hole is just a hole, sometimes an accident is just an accident. Sometimes a bottle is just a bottle. At any moment you could die from a brain aneurysm. There is no such thing as destiny, no such thing as fate. It would be game over, a glitch in the universe, no one's fault and nothing to be done - but no one wants to believe that. No one wants to believe that they are unimportant, that their life is ultimately meaningless or that they are nothing. We are specks adrift in a cosmic wind both helpless and aimless. Accepting that events can have life changing consequences and are ultimately meaningless means accepting that you have no control. Which is horrifying.”

Everyone stared at him. Erik sighed.

“My point is this could just be a bottle. Trash washed up on the beach.”

“But is it?” asked Fred.

“No,” Prince Erik’s lips twisted in irritation, “I can see there’s a note inside.” He squinted. “The outside says ‘Dear Fred’… but that’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” asked Joan.

“It could have been a coincidence,” said Erik.

“But that would have been dull. And no one here wants to experience that level of existential dread, so stop it,” said Prince Hans.

“As you wish.”

They gathered round and examined the bottle. Fred worked open the cork stopper and pulled out a roll of tightly coiled parchment. He spread it out.

“I wonder how Hugo sent this?” he mused.

“Where is he?” said Alice. “Gimme.” She elbowed Fred out of the way and grabbed the scroll.

“Send help!” she read outloud. “We are stuck at the bottom of the ocean. Can’t get the submarine to work. Only have air for another two days or so. Too young and beautiful to die. Love Hugo and Michael. PS to find us follow the coral reef to the south of Black Powder Bay, we are next to the chasm. PPS Bring snacks.”

[ding! New Quest! Save Hugo and Prince Michael!]

[ding! New Quest! Discover the Chasm City!]

“Alright,” said Joan, rubbing her hands together gleefully. “Let’s get those potion ingredients together! I can brew it tonight, will there be a rising moon? Yes? Good! And then tomorrow we all grow tails and go to rescue Hugo!”

[ding! New Quest! Mermaid Extravaganza!

Become one with the ocean and feel the salt in your hair!]

“I’ve always wanted to have a tail,” said Fred.

“Really?” asked Epic.

“No, not really,” said Fred, “but it sounds like a boatload of fun.”

“Sounds like a good way to die,” said Erik.

“Perhaps you can sit this one out,” said Hans. “We can leave you at the nunnery in Booty Cove.” The two brothers glared at each other.

“There’s a nunnery at Booty Cove?” asked Joan.

“Yes,” said Hans, still scowling. “Just across from Black Powder Bay. ‘The Sisterhood of the Golden Gouda.’”

“I thought this was a water themed level?” said Alice. “Shouldn’t it be...oh ‘The Sisterhood of the Salty Seamen’ or ‘The Sisterhood of the Occasional Octopi’?”

“Well yes,” said Hans. “But sometimes these things spring up, unannounced. Cults and the like. Sometimes they evolve around players, other times…just to fill a need.”

“A need for cheese,” said Fred, approvingly.

“Indeed.”

“When I played last,” said Joan, inspecting a nail. “There was a Jane Austen cult.”

“Was the writer here?” said Epic, turning a bit pink. “Like the actual writer? The author of Pride and Prejudice? Was she dead?”

“Oh yes,” said Joan. She tilted her head on one side, her eyes misty as she remembered the distant past. “Filthy cheat. I stabbed her once and she deserved it too. What an obnoxious tart. Grrr. Good poker face though.”

“Hugo,” said Fred. “We need to rescue Hugo and Michael, remember? We can talk about cults and buy cheese later. So where do we find these ingredients for this potion, that seems like a sensible place to start?”

“Hmm. Let’s take the Heart of the Ocean to Black Powder Bay,” said Joan. “Are there shops there? Yes? Good. We can split up to cover as much ground as we can, and meet back at the ship tonight so I can brew.”

They collected the remains of their picnic and loaded all the treasure into The Heart of the Ocean before setting sail to Black Powder Bay. The voyage took longer than expected because the ship was in such disrepair. Only a fraction of sail had come through the kraken attack unscathed and the wind was slight.

It was late afternoon by the time the vessel limped into the small harbour.

Black Powder Bay was a crescent carved out of the side of a medium sized island. The island itself was covered in palms, with colourful parrots cawing from the fronds and monkeys darting through the foliage. The town was small and full of ramshackle, rustic buildings, most of them thatched with coconut fronds. The entrance to the Bay was guarded by a star fort. Cannons lined the walls. Men in red and blue uniforms eyed them meaningfully as they sailed past. Fred waved to them, just for good measure. They did not wave back.

“We look like a privateer,” said Joan, with a grin.

“Like a what?”

“A pirate ship,” said Joan.

“Are we a pirate ship?” asked Alice. Joan shrugged.

“We can decide later,” she said.

Despite the lateness of the day it was still warm. Fred watched with some regret as the crew of the Heart of the Ocean disappeared into the closest tavern. While Joan made arrangements to pay for repairs to the ship Fred and the others set off to hunt for ingredients before the shops shut.

The walrus whiskers they were able to purchase from the local alchemist. The juice from the rainbow sea urchin proved difficult until Alice sidled away for a quick cocktail and discovered it was a popular ingredient in the island specialty: The Rusty Cutlass. Just as he was about to give into despair Fred managed to trade ten gold pieces and a cup of tea for a hollowed-out coral with a clam pearl in a back alley.

Everything acquired, they returned to The Heart of the Ocean and had a pleasant evening eating and sleeping while Joan got to work on the potion brewing.

“Poor Hugo,” said Alice, her legs dangling over the side of the ship as she stuffed her face with leftover sandwiches. “It must be so boring down there.”

“I’m sure they’ll find some way to occupy themselves,” said Fred.

That night they slept in hammocks on the deck, swayed gently by the warm breeze.

They were rudely awakened at the crack of dawn by the crash of the galley door. Joan burst onto the deck waving vials of potion.

“Alright,” she yelled. “The potion is ready!”

Everyone sat up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. An alarmed seagull flew off the mast squawking.  “Volunteers please!”

Joan held up a vial and suddenly the sailors, most of whom had only just staggered home from the tavern all became very, very busy. Ropes were coiled, sails became very interesting and belly buttons were inspected with fevered intensity.

“Hmm,” said Joan, tapping her boot on the deck. “Is that how it is? Okay, folks, who wants an extra day’s pay?” There was no movement although the air suddenly became attentive. “Two days extra pay!” she said hopefully. She looked around but nobody moved. “And a keg of beer!”

A tall stringy sailor leapt up and saluted, swaying slightly

“Captain Joan, I volunteer!”

“Me too,” said a stocky ginger man, with a wide grin. He staggered forwards. Fred looked at them both, impressed at their forward planning.

“Hmm,” said Joan, again. “Such enthusiasm. I suppose you will do. Thank you, lads. Alright, drink this up. Whatever happens, remember the effects will only last twenty-four hours.” She handed the pair two glass bottles of potion.

They eyed the bottles with deep suspicion. “Go on, then,” she said encouragingly.

The sailors exchanged glances, shrugged, then bashed the bottles together in salute before tipping the contents down their throats.

“Brave men,” muttered Fred.

The pair stood side by side, unmoving. Strange expressions flitted across their faces. Fred moved closer to get a better view.

Joan glared at him.

Everyone waited.

Nothing happened.

Then the tallest sailor hiccupped.

He dropped his bottle and it smashed on the deck. He hiccupped again and then turned a delicate shade of green. Fred thought he was about to throw up but then the colour spread across his skin in julep waves, changing pink skin to mottled green. To the sailor’s abject consternation and the onlooker’s great interest his trousers popped off with a twang. His legs elongated then thinned, the feet widening into webs with little round green toes.

“Frogs legs,” said Fred. “That’s unexpected.”

“You don’t say,” said the sailor.

“Fuck,” said Joan.

Everyone turned their gaze on the ginger sailor who was standing awkwardly next to his half-human, half-froggy companion. He shuddered.

“Oh, that tickles!” The sailor sat suddenly, his rump landing on the deck with a thud. He sprouted a glorious orange tail where his legs had been. “Oh!”

“Look at that!” said Alice.

“Beautiful!” said Epic.

“It’s a goldfish tail,” said Hans, critically. He screwed a monocle into his right eye and leaned closer, poking at the scales with his finger. The sailor smacked his hand away. “Yup, that’s a goldfish. Better luck next time, old bean.”

“What’s wrong with it?” demanded Alice. “Looks like a perfectly good mermaid um - merman to me?”

“Freshwater,” said Joan. She cursed, then brightened. “Oh, I know,” she said. “I forgot to add the seawater. Silly me. I’ll be out in a tick…”

She stamped back into the gallery muttering under her breath and  re-emerged several minutes later clutching six bottles. She handed one to Fred. He took it cautiously.

“Uh…” he said. He gestured to the frog and goldfish men, who had removed themselves to the shade and were demanding water loudly.

“It’s fine,” said Joan. “Drink it.”

Fred peered at the potion. It was azure blue with little bouncing bubbles and a slight sparkle when held up to the light.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” said Joan. She unstoppered her own bottle and tipped the contents down her throat. “Hugo and his boyfriend are waiting for us, you know!”

“They’ll have to wait a lot longer,” said Alice. “If we all turn into frogs.”

In the corner the frog man squished a fly with his fingers and then popped it lazily into his mouth.

“We won’t,” said Joan. “I got it right.”

As she spoke her legs fused together, her black trousers melding into her flesh which suddenly became rubbery and shiny. Her tail shot out, ink black and glistening with striking white splotches. She sat down hard, and raised her new tail in the air with an admiring glance.. “Oh, how darling.” She flapped it at them. It was enormous.

“Not bad,” said Maris.

“Orca,” said Hans to Epic.

“Hmm?”

“Killer whale.”

“It figures.”

Fred and Alice looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“Bottom’s up,” said Fred. They swallowed it down. The potion was salty, but not unpleasant. It tickled going down Fred’s throat and bounced around his stomach like overactive champagne bubbles.

“I bet you’ll end up with a clownfish tail,” Alice said to him, conversationally.

“Better than being a tadpole,” said Fred. “Oh!”

His legs fused, locking together at the knees. A tail rippled out, skin bursting into sleek scale and webbing in deep red-orange with vivid white stripes. Spiky spines protruded out of his skin, some delicate others pure, stab-worthy aggression. He touched the flat of his stomach gingerly. Gills seemed to have formed over his abs, the white and orange stripes fading into his tattoos and natural skin tone.

Alice meanwhile had sprouted a long, thin tail that was completely scale less. Smooth and sleek, the end coiled, almost snake-like, longer than either Joan’s or Fred’s. It had an attractive yellow and white spotted pattern like a leopard with a delicate black edge.

“Whoa,” said Alice. She flopped it experimentally.

“Tadpole,” said Fred.

“Shut up, Fred.”

“Lionfish and moray eel,” said Hans. “Interesting.”

Prince Erik smacked his thighs and stood up. He looked a little sick.  “I’ll be off then,” he said. “You will find me on your return, wandering the shores of the island and contemplating the desolate waves.”

“Not worried you’ll miss a chance to see your friend?” asked Fred. “What was her name? The one with pancake lips or whatever it was? The little mermaid?”

Erik looked momentarily torn, but then he heaved a mighty sigh.

“Nay,” he said. “I would like to see her again, it is true. But I dare not take the potion. I dare not invite that darkness in.”

“Afraid you will like it?” asked Hans, with a grin. Erik looked appalled.

“Ever the void seeks to tempt us,” he said. “I will pray that you do not fall into the chasm, brother. If you see my love, send her my fondest wishes. Fare you well.” He nodded, solemnly. “And good luck in your endeavours. I will pray that you will survive the depths.”

He strode up the gangplank and away up the street.

“Such a cheery cove,” said Hans. He knocked back his own potion. “Come on, my dearest.”

Epic looked at her bottle frowning, then took a cautious sip.

“All of it,” said Joan, flapping her tail impatiently. Epic winced and swallowed it down. Next to her Hans made a face, then hiccupped.

“Most singular,” he said. “I do beg your pardon.”

His legs exploded into tentacles, complete with suction cups. They lay on the deck, dark and heavy.

“Oh my,” said Epic, her eyes bulging.

“I suspected I would take after dad,” said Hans with a laugh. He poked her with a tentacle and she squealed. Then her own legs vanished, replaced by rippling silver scales. The caudal fin fanned into a delicate webbing of white.

“Classic mermaid,” said Fred. “Lovely.”

“Not quite,” said Hans, screwing in his monocle again for a closer look. “You, sweet Epic, are a lantern fish.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you will glow in the dark.” Epic’s mouth made an ‘o’ of amazement. She smiled and flapped her tail.

“Okay,” said Alice. “That is cool.”

“Do you need a potion?” Joan asked Maris, who shook her head.

“I am a Daughter of Neptune,” she said. “My body will transform when I hit the water.”

“Alright then,” said Joan. “Store your weapons and any bits that you don’t want to get wet.”

“For swimming,” said Maris, “it is best if you travel light.”

Joan tied up her hair into a severe bun.

“None of this romantic floaty shit,” she said.

“Aw,” said Fred.  She smiled.

“Maybe later. If there’s time. Oh,” she flapped her tail so it landed on the deck with an almighty thump. “That reminds me. Bikinis are in the shopping bag. Alice, put one on and don’t argue.”

There was a brief, fervent bustle as everyone folded their clothes and put them away, hampered by their ungainly tails.

“So, are we ready?” asked Fred, who was eager to get in the water.

“Wait!” said Epic. “Can I give some to Stinkums? Some potion  I mean? I don’t like leaving her behind. She can have Erik’s one.”

Joan looked at her doubtfully.

“I don’t know if it will work on a …erm… ghost cat,” she said. “Or if Stinkums would even want to swim with us.” They all pivoted to regard the small sabre-toothed tiger who was perched on top of a barrel, regarding them with wild eyes and rumpled fur. Sensing their gaze the cat hissed and started to clean her nether regions.

“I guess it's fine,” said Joan. “Whatever.”

One of the sailors was instructed to find a saucer and the potion was presented to the suspicious feline. Stinkums sniffed at it and took a tentative lick. She sneezed.

“Go on!” urged Epic. The tiger looked at her with deep remorse and lapped up the rest. A few moments later the whole party, complete with half-tiger half-tigerfish were ready to leave.

Fred brandished his trident.

“To the waves, my friends!”

They plunged over the railings and into the warm waters of the ocean below.