Another Hero's Journey...to Krawk Island

     Warf Wharf was bustling with activity the following morning. Several Krawk Islanders sat at the pier with fishing poles dangling in the sea, while vendors called out their wares of fish and coral and seaweed. Grizzled sailors adorned the decks of waiting ships, and they shouted their conversations over the waves. Weewoos perched on a nearby outcrop of rocks, watching intently as a Flotsam crawled gingerly toward them with a pair of binoculars.

     “Welcome to Krawk Island,” said Captain Markham, gesturing grandly at the scene, just in time to see a pirate Bori stick out her peg leg, trip her Usul companion into the sea, and laugh uproariously. “You ain’t never seen a livelier island!”

     “Wow,” Andrea breathed as she scribbled something in her notebook. “It’s like something out of a swashbuckling folk tale!”

     “It’s a lot more crowded than I imagined,” said Rohane, pulling the hood of his blue cloak down over his face. He winced when Ichabod clapped him on the back.

     “Aye, Krawk Island gets all kinds,” the camouflage Lenny remarked. “Sure, some folks are the law-abiding kind, but a lot of ‘em would slit your wallet as soon as they see it.”

     “The others would slit more than just your wallet,” said Lou gravely.

     Rohane folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the ship’s rails. “Sounds like another day in my life, then.”

     “Not quite, Sir Knight,” Markham said. “Remember what I told you and Andrea before we left Seaside? Krawk Island is merciless. Don’t underestimate it. And more importantly…we can’t have you parading about showing everyone that you’re the Sir Rohane!”

     “I have a hooded cloak, isn’t that enough?”

     “Nope!” said Ichabod cheerfully. “Luckily, we always come prepared, right guys?”

     “Prepared for what?” asked Lou, clicking his hooks together.

     Nightclaw rolled his eyes and cuffed the Skeith soundly on the ear. “Ye barnacle brain! What d’ye think Sir Rohane needs t’ go unnoticed in this crowd?”

     * * *

     Andrea tied a scarf around her forehead, restraining her braided mane. She twirled around, examining her raggedy skirt and blouse. Her notebook was tucked into a small pouch tied to her sash, and her eyes were lined with dark makeup.

     “Perfect.” Markham clapped his hands. “You’re a natural, lass.”

     “I’m not really famous, so I’d probably blend into Krawk Island much better than Sir Knight in there.” The red Kyrii grinned and inclined her head toward the cabin of the Swift Snarhook. Her grin disappeared like a candle blown out. “I just hope we can find Reuben. Would he even be here?”

     “Only one way to find out.”

     “He’s ready!” Ichabod called out from the cabin. The Lenny threw open the door and gestured grandly. “Presenting our newest crew member, the fastest blade on the five seas!”

     “What? Ichabod, what are you – “

     Lou guffawed and pushed Rohane out onto the deck. “C’mon, Si – I mean, Nightsteel. Show yourself to the Cap’n for inspection.”

     The white Blumaroo was nearly unrecognizable in a bright red bandanna, fake stubble, and scars drawn all over his face. He wore a striped, ruffled shirt over black slacks, and his sword was strapped to his back, easily drawn by reaching up over his left shoulder. His fingers were covered in gaudy fake rings, and even his tail sported a tarnished silver band.

     After whistling with approval, Nightclaw said, “There ‘e is, Nightsteel! Yer newest recruit!”

     “It sounds a lot like Nightsteed.” Rohane reached up to scratch his chin. “And this stubble is really itchy…”

     “You just have to wear it until we find Reuben,” Andrea assured him. It was not much of an assurance. “Didn’t you tell me you’ve worn a disguise before?”

     “A Neovian suit and a mask for a masquerade party…I have to admit, this is much easier to move in than a suit. And…” He paused and whispered to her, “Andrea, what if Reuben isn’t…”

     She shook her head. “Only one way to find out.”

     “Find your buddies, lads and lass,” Markham barked. “Ichabod, Nightclaw, Lou, you three head into the wharf. Ask around for a lost white Blumaroo in a brown cloak. Meanwhile, I’ll make sure Andrea and Sir Knight don’t get lost.”

     “We won’t get lost,” Rohane complained.

     “But you’ve never been to Krawk Island before,” Andrea reminded him.

     The spotted Tonu continued. “We should cover a lot of ground today. Meet back here at the Snarhook by sunset. If we haven’t found him by then, we’ll sail along the coast.”

     “Aye, aye, Cap’n!” said Nightclaw. The eventide Krawk even clicked his heels together and saluted.

     “What’re you waiting for, you scurvy Grackle Bugs? Get out there, we’re burning daylight!”

     * * *

     “Ta-da! I knew being with the Bilguss Drama Club would come in handy!” Frank proclaimed, holding up his makeup brush triumphantly. “No one will ever know he’s even supposed to be a white Blumaroo!”

     “Frank, I gotta admit, this has to be your best work yet,” said Cole, clapping appreciatively. “I’m still not gonna take out the trash for you, though.”

     Reuben sat on a stool in front of a slightly cracked, old mirror. His face – or what could be seen of his face from beneath a baggy black hood – was coloured with liberal amounts of blush. His cloak had been tied around his waist like a belt, and it had the added advantage of hiding his real belt full of daggers. A gaudy jacket which probably belonged in a seafaring play by the Bilguss Drama Club was thrown over his shirt, and his hands were tucked away into dark gloves.

     He grinned. “Not bad.”

     “I was hoping to add an eyepatch, but it’d give you away if you started wobbling around with half your vision gone,” said the skunk Flotsam, rubbing the back of his neck with his fin. “But this’ll be fine. Besides, our moms will be with you all the way.”

     “But what about you three?” asked the white Blumaroo, glancing from Cole, to Frank, and then to Allie asleep in a hammock overhead. He frowned. “I wouldn’t want Wilhelm or his buddies finding you.”

     Cole snorted. “Oh, please. Frank can hide in the bottom of the sea, and Allie and I can just fly to our grandma’s house or something. We know how to survive on the streets, but we don’t recommend it.”

     “Oh yeah. Muirgen and Ione adopted all of you.”

     “And taught us a thing or two.” The blue Hissi winked.

     Ione opened the door to the cabin almost eagerly, all dressed up in a shirt, a vest, and trousers tucked into calf-high boots. “You ready? Let’s find us a ship to Meridell!”

     “So you can get out of our hair. Or feathers,” Muirgen added from behind the purple Xweetok. “Just kidding. We don’t know if you’ll be able to visit, but…”

     Reuben smiled, drawing a dagger to inspect it against a ray of light coming in through a window. “I owe all of you a lot, so I have to see you again and repay you properly.” He snapped his fingers. “Muirgen, how about you come to my smithy in Trestin? I can teach you some of my tricks, help you find a better job than just apprenticing with some swordsmith out in the north.”

     The pirate Eyrie’s eyes widened, and she pointed to herself. “Me? Reuben, you don’t even know how good…no, I don’t think I can call myself good.”

     Ione shook her head and reached up to place a hand on Muirgen’s shoulder. “You’re doing great, Muirgen. And with Reuben’s help, you’ll do even better.”

     “But that means I’ll be leaving you and the children…”

     “For a while!” The Xweetok waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll be fine. I haven’t been fired yet from this job!”

     “I could do more of this makeup stuff for a few extra Neopoints,” said Frank, closing his makeup kit and muttering to himself, “I just need more of the waterproof blush and eyeshadow…”

     “We’ll be okay, Mama.” Cole slithered up to Muirgen and squeezed her hand. “Like Mom said, you’ll do great.”

     The Eyrie opened and closed her beak before taking a deep breath and saying, “Thank you, everyone, but first, we need to find the next ship back to Meridell. Then we can talk about whether or not I’ll join him on the trip. Are you sure both of us should come with him? One of us could be the distraction…”

     “No,” said Ione firmly. “We’ll do this together. We’ll face Wilhelm together, just like old times, and teach him a lesson he won’t ever forget.”

     * * *

     A bespectacled, bearded, blue Kacheek extended his hand out to Markham, Rohane and Andrea from his booth. “Hey, the odds are good for ol’ Gooblah today, come on and make a bet! Scurvy Dan’s looking strong, too, he’s gonna crush the competition in Harpoon Harry’s, aye!”

     Rohane and Andrea traded a look. “What’s he talking about?” the red Kyrii asked. She grunted when a portly pink Kau pushed her out of the way and set a large bag of Neopoints in front of the Kacheek so loudly that several heads turned at the metallic sound.

     “One hundred thousand on Scurvy Dan the Blade and Gooblah the Grarrl!” the Kau crowed. “I’m feeling lucky! Bet that Franchisco chap’s gonna run away with Shipwreck, too!”

     “You still have nine more bets, lass,” the Kacheek said as he opened the bag and began counting out the Neopoints. “’Course, you could divvy up your cash…”

     Markham leaned in to whisper to his companions. “Food Club, one of Krawk Island’s greatest moneymakers. Bet on some pirates in an eating contest and win some Neopoints.”

     “Uh, that sounds like…gambling,” said Rohane, who was careful to keep his voice as rough and low as possible. He gritted his teeth and scratched his cheek.

     “It looks better than Kiss the Mortog, at least,” Andrea remarked. While the Kau was writing up her bets, she walked up to the Kacheek and asked, “Um, excuse me, sir, you wouldn’t happen to have seen a white Blumaroo run by here, in a brown cloak and with a lot of daggers?”

     The bookmaker chuckled, stroking his beard. “Heh, sorry, but I’m willing to bet all these Food Club bets that I haven’t seen ‘em. Good luck finding ‘em, whoever they are.”

     Markham nodded and waved as he ushered Andrea and Rohane away and they strode down the street through Warf Wharf. “I hope Lou, Ichabod and Nightclaw are having better luck than we are.” The spotted Tonu took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow as they strode past a fishmonger Jetsam who suddenly dropped something very wet and very slimy, and then a small stall selling dubloon-shaped plates. The Quiggle at the stall held up a plate made to look like a Five Hundred Dubloon Coin and squinted at Rohane, who instinctively took a step back.

     “Say,” the green Quiggle remarked, “ye look familiar, laddie. Ye from ‘round ‘ere?” He leered, and Rohane had half a mind to break into a run before the Quiggle could figure out his identity.

     “’Course not,” said Andrea swiftly before Rohane could say anything. “You ever hear of Nightsteel? Newest swordsman on Captain Markham’s crew.” She gestured to the Tonu.

     “Markham…” The Quiggle said the name as though it was the name of a dish he was trying to decipher. Then he gasped. “Cap’n Markham? Of the Swift Snarhook? Shiver me timbers, it’s me!” He put away his plate and hurried out to grasp Markham’s hand in a firm handshake.

     At first, Markham was surprised. Then he gasped. “Swabby Jones?”

     The Quiggle snorted. “Ye’d ferget one o’yer first shipmates, matey?” He threw one arm over the Tonu’s shoulder – with some difficulty, as he was a head shorter. “I’m still a Quiggle o’ the sea, I’m just ‘ere babysittin’ a friend’s stall.” He laughed heartily. “Nightsteel, eh? An’ who’s the lassie?”

     “I’m Andrea. It’s nice to meet you. Have you seen a white Blumaroo – well, not Nightsteel. Another one. With daggers and a brown cloak and a – “

     “Hey, I think I saw one run by ‘ere yesterday!”

     “You did?” Markham, Andrea and Rohane – who nearly forgot about his fake voice – asked at the same time.

     “Hah, aye!” Swabby Jones laughed again and pointed downtown. “He went that-a-way, kept his hood down all the way, smelled a bit like he took a swim in the sea, prooooobably had some seaweed on his tail? Dunno what he was looking fer but he was in a bit o’hurry.”

     Rohane managed to blurt out a “thank you!” before sprinting toward the direction Swabby had pointed.

     “Wait for us!” Andrea cried, one hand on her head scarf as she ran after him, with Markham puffing behind. “Ro – uh, Nightsteel!”

     * * *

     Ione peered around the corner where she, Muirgen and Reuben crouched in a narrow street behind a dilapidated antique shop. She watched as a small Gnorbu attempted to pick the pocket of a heavyset Skeith. A pirate Gelert sang a ship ditty as he trotted down the street, nearly running into a lamppost. Ione stepped out onto the sidewalk, sidestepping a pirate Yurble, and gestured for the Eyrie and the Blumaroo to follow suit.

     “No sign of Wilhelm – or Derrick, or Eif,” said Ione.

     “Well, otherwise you wouldn’t have given the signal.” Muirgen gripped her staff tightly. “Right, let’s head for the pier.”

     They sprinted toward the town square, the breeze and the salt telling them that they were on the right track. No one paid them any attention, except for a little orange Gelert newsgirl selling the latest issues of the Neopian Times alongside some local Krawk Island tabloids.

     “Looks like I can pass for a pirate,” Reuben whispered after shaking his head at the Gelert when she offered him an issue of The Weewoo Weekly. But he couldn’t help but reach up to touch his face. “Is the blush still on?”

     “Frank used his waterproof makeup,” said Ione. “At least, I think he did.”

     “Shhhh.” Muirgen threw out an arm to stop them from colliding with an opening restaurant door. They halted long enough for a Pteri and a Buzz to fly out with takeout bags before continuing.

     None of them noticed the Gelert get up from her little stand and walk into the tavern next to it. As the little bell over the doorway tinkled and announced her entrance, she headed for a table in a dim corner that was empty except for a pirate Kougra whose arms were folded on the top of the table.

     “They’re here,” said the Gelert. “The Xweetok, the Eyrie…and there was a Blumaroo with them. He didn’t look white, but…I don’t know if he’s supposed to be pink or red.”

     Captain Wilhelm smiled, baring his sharp teeth. He snapped his fingers, and immediately two other patrons sat up and took off their hats. They were none other than Derrick and Eif.

     “Where are they going?”

     “Toward the pier, sir.”

     “Good.” The Kougra stood up and cracked his knuckles.

     “Should I…uh, have stopped them, sir?”

     Wilhelm shook his head as he examined his reflection in his cutlass. “A puny kid like you wouldn’t be able to anyway. As promised, go buy yourself a cup of coffee.” He flicked a Ten Dubloon Coin toward the Gelert, who expertly caught it and bit it while Wilhelm shuffled out from the tavern with the shadow Kiko and the brown Grundo at his heels.

     To be continued…