The orders came only moments after the assault on the Gaping Maw ended. First came a headcount, where all crew were instructed to stay in place while first the quartermaster, followed shortly by the first mate, walked through to count each of them. They found that two crew members were missing, and after reviewing the night watch logs the missing pirates were confirmed to have been posted on the main deck during the attack. Rumors spread quickly that they had been abducted, eaten, or simply thrown overboard by the mermaids.
Immediately following the headcount and identification of the missing, the remaining crew was given assignments. The strongest and bulkiest of the crew were sent to the cargo hold, where they retrieved several medium sized crates and hefted them up to the main deck. Inside the crates were wooden poles tipped with sharp metal spikes like short, crude spears.
Along with a few other crew members, Iris was given a hammer and a sack of nails and set upon the task of nailing the spike poles onto the support beams of the railing, so that they would jut out and downwards from the main deck to impede climbing assailants. More hammering echoed from the second and third decks where planks were secured over each of the portholes, while the most skilled carpenters on the ship were tasked with installing a new door on the captain's quarters. Apparently, the captain's door was destroyed often enough to warrant having a replacement on standby in the cargo hold.
They worked by lantern light, the ominous night time waters serving as an ever present abyss harboring unknown threats. The captain had now donned his coat and hat, and stood at the helm of the ship as the first mate echoed his commands across the main deck. They were dropping sails and moving full speed on a course for a large island in the southeastern corner of the lake, the closest land mass to their current position. The captain had no disillusions that the assault had been only the beginning -- an attempt to accomplish their goal the quiet way, if possible -- and he was certain a larger force was gathering somewhere deep below the ship for a more direct attack. Despite his thirst for blood, he had concluded it best not to undergo that attack on open water.
As the first rays of sunlight cut across the lake, tensions calmed amongst the crew. It was expected that the mermaids wouldn't attack again until night fall, and though they were tired and wary, the relative sense of security was welcomed. Most wouldn't have admitted it, however, instead most of the pirates boasted about how eager they were to slay their enemies, and that they wished the mermaids would just attack and get it over with.
Iris had made her way down much of the starboard railing, having long since lost count of how many spikes she had placed, when her path began to converge with another pirate completing the same task as her but in the opposite direction. It was Grell the angry goblin man, hammering away as if he held a personal grudge towards the nails. More than once, Iris heard him release a string of obscenities when he accidentally smashed his fingers. While she had worked thoroughly and intentionally to place most of her spikes at a uniform angle, Grell's spikes were haphazardly oriented and formed a jagged, uneven obstruction.
"Fucking piece of shit," Grell growled as he slapped the hammer against the main deck planks as if punishing it for hitting for him.
Iris slumped her shoulders and sighed, the repetitive work was tiring enough, but the awkward angles at which she had to hold the spikes and hammer the nails was straining muscles she didn't often use, and they had begun to ache about twenty spikes ago. After a precious moment of a rest, the first mate barked from somewhere on deck.
"Back to work!"
She was pretty sure it wasn't directed only at her, as the order came from afar and echoed across the deck, but nevertheless she searched for resolve to keep going and picked up her hammer once more.
On the gun deck, Cameron, the quartermaster, and a handful of cannoneers were gathered around a barrel of explosive cannonballs. Cameron held up one of the heavy projectiles and pointed with his finger to illustrate his suggestion.
"If we bore a small hole here, I can insert a small detonation charge that will activate the explosive payload when disturbed by another blast. Then we just cork the hole and drop it overboard to let it sink, and the next blast we set off in the water will start a chain reaction of explosions."
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"We have some crew with abilities that can mold metal, they can make quick work of that," the quartermaster nodded, "how many can you make in twelve hours?"
Cameron took a moment to think before replying, "if someone else is making the holes for me, at least a barrel's worth."
"I'll find you your metal workers, then," the quartermaster said, and then looked at the surrounding cannoneers, "you three, you work for Cameron today, get him whatever he needs. Get to work."
Cameron nodded and returned the cannonball to its barrel. He grabbed a nearby crate and slid it over near to the barrel, and started removing pouches from his belt and pockets and spreading them out across the crate.
"You," he pointed at one the pirates, "you know which hammock is mine?"
"Aye," the pirate said, clearly annoyed to be taking orders from the new guy.
"There's a small backpack in my locker, bring it to me. Be extremely careful, there's volatile compounds and fragile equipment in there."
When the pirate returned with the backpack, Cameron immediately began setting out and arranging tools. He prepared a mortar and pestle, a few vials of thickening agents and accelerants, and a small metal basin designed to hold a small but very hot flame to heat the contents of a glass bowl that rested atop it. Alongside the equipment were various small tools, including tweezers, stirring sticks, and small strips of specialized color changing paper which he would dip into solutions to test various qualities. He paused when the metal workers arrived to instruct them on exactly where and how large to make the holes, and warned them to be mindful of the explosive powder already present in the ammunition. As they got to work, he returned to his impromptu workbench and began the process of synthesizing a large batch of a carefully calculated explosive mixture.
High above the main deck, in the crow's nest, Eli was finally convincing Hedley the birdman to show him the modifications he had made to his staff.
"The first trick is to shape the staff to your desires before you etch and engrave," he explained, "the shape of the wood affects the flow of the magic before the runes ever get a chance, so you the form the staff first, and then apply runes to work best with the flow you already have."
He twisted the staff in his hands and pointed to a knot in the wood about a quarter of the staff's length from the shoulder stock, "it's always best to work with what you've got, rather than try to mold it into exactly what you want. I used a few runes in conjunction with this knot here as a natural well to collect the magic as I charge the staff. The trick with long ranged shots is that you want a small but very dense bolt, so there's runes for limiting and concentrating the magic surrounding the well."
Eli was quite pleasantly surprised to see how excited the man was talk about his staff. It had been quite difficult to get this point, as Hedley rarely wanted to make small talk at all and had rebuffed any of Eli's attempts to learn more about his staff until now. It seemed, however, that once he got talking, he just kept going.
"The next big secret is this part here," he twisted the staff around to a plug a feathered finger into a narrow bore drilled down the center of the staff, "you can think of this like the barrel of a cannon. It runs down the length of the staff all the way back to the well, providing a path of least resistance for the magic to travel."
"Magic prefers to travel through solid objects before it does air," Eli pointed out.
"Aye," Hedley wagged a finger, "unless you etch channel runes on the interior of the bore. Not only does that create an easy path for the magic, but it allows you to further shape and manipulate the magic as it exits the staff."
"Channel runes?" Eli asked.
"Hoh boy," Hedley sighed, "alright, grab me a scrap of paper, lad. It's time for a lesson."
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In the late morning, the quartermaster gathered a select contingent of pirates on the main deck. Amongst them was Titus in rare form, as he wore his shining metal armor for the first time since the Gaping Maw had set sail. It was generally a bad idea to wear heavy armor aboard a ship, especially while it was underway, as dexterity was a constant necessity and the threat of going overboard was never quite zero. He had donned it today, however, given the likelihood of a battle in the near future. Notable, he wasn't wearing the full set, having opted to go without the bulky shoulder pauldrons and shin guards to at least somewhat reduce weight.
"On the Gaping Maw, everyone fights," the quartermaster was saying, "you lot, however, will be a squad with a particular goal. You will defend chokepoints on the stairwells, blocking the mermaid's paths to the lower decks. You'll set up here, in front of the quarterdeck, and have fall back points prepared along the stairs just before each deck below. I expect you to spend today fortifying these positions with barricades, traps and necessary supplies. Understood?"
"Aye!" the squad shouted.
"Then get to work."