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Oh, what a time it was at the Formidably Maid last night. You remember the ringing laughter of a wild night, the heady joy of indulging too much in drink and other vices, the scents of rich stewed meat and perfume lingering in your nostrils.
But, now your head is killing you. Probably the worst hangover of your life. Your head is pounding and the sickly taste of cheap wine or rum fills your mouth. The floor below is hard and unforgiving and the whole room feels like it is swaying like you still haven’t slept off the drink.
As your brain slowly pulls itself together, you realize something is wrong. Not only is the room swaying, but there is a rhythmic creaking noise. You open your eyes, but the room is dark. You breath and take in the reek of unwashed bodies. Somewhere in the dark, you hear a pig squeal. Then you sense you’re not alone. There are other bodies laying in the dark with you.
Suddenly, you hear the thump of several pairs of heavy footsteps entering the dark room and the harsh light of a lantern painfully lances your eyes.
Recovering from momentary blindness, you see a tall, thin man, sneering at you with a braided beard and a mouth filled with gold teeth. He wears a long coat, a handaxe at his hip, and heavy boots. Worse still, he is backed by six, rough-looking men that could only be pirates. You can see that at least several of them are armed with nasty looking saps. The leader’s sneer turns into a grisly attempt at a smile and your headache worsens as he cracks the whip with a vicious snap and yells,
Atajay
Uriah
You notice the aftertaste of oily nutmeg on your tongue.
This taste is a clear sign of oil of taggit poisoning. You remember indulging in spicy food or spiced rum last night. The oil was likely added to your food or drink which hid the taste of the oil.
You recognize that the man standing over you and at least a couple of the others were at the Formidably Maid last night.
The man standing over you
A woman with a sneer and very large ears
A fat giant with a giant belly and shaved head
A half-orc with a sickly swamp green complexion
A tall Rahadoumi man with a dark complexion and scowl
A frightening woman with a dark glower who just seems wrong
A dwarf with white hair and a large, ugly nose
Perception: auto-succeed
Intelligence:
The wiry elf comes to slowly and after his eyes open they blink languidly as though clearing mud off their lenses. Feeling a foreign taste on his tongue he hacks a cough before spitting the resultant phlegm and saliva to the side. Hearing the words and seeing the brutal man with the whip Raveneau's hands slowly make their way to his waist where he discovers the distinct lack of weaponry. Grumbling in Elvish "Les bâtards m'ont volé"
Looking around at the other detritus in the cabin he sees that none are in any position to resist and so rises slowly and deliberately. No sound of assent is spoken by the elf, but no outright challenge either. His face is a mask of seething anger, but he does as he is bade.
Gimlet's head ached.
He opened his eyes and the pain only got worse.
Once his eyes focused, it all started to make sense. There is the bloke buying the drinks last night....and his cronies. "I remember You from last night, although I really, really, really wish I didn't.", Gimlet mutters as he struggles to his feet, unsure if the rocking was the room or his head....Definitely the room, is the conclusion after a moment to cope with the pitch and roll.
Stupid-stupid-stupid. You are back at sea. You knew better, but for the chance to save a coin you took the drink and....and.. Gimlet feels at his hips. Yep...all your coin is gone for the trouble...and your pipe...and your knife...and... Gimlet at least retained enough sense not to pat the cloth wrappings on his feet and ankles...without touching them, he could feel the resistance of the small thin metal strips hidden there. Well, at last I still have those and if I can manage to keep my wits as well, I can find a way off whatever tub this is, just like an unsecured hatch helped get you off the Devilmote."
The bird man with bright feather sits up, blinking oddly. Strange taste in my mouth, what did I eat, and who are these people?
Hearing the elf speak Chak responds, "Moi aussi mon ami"
Chak stands up when yelled at, not sure what else to do.
The slight Sargavan comes awake slowly, trying to work the metallic taste from his mouth. What the hells did Cookie put into the grog ration yesterday? Why aren't I in my doss...wait, I was ashore! At that bar...the Formable Maiden? Gods, I can't think. At that moment the sudden light stabs into Ursion's eyes, igniting a fresh spasm of pain in his skull, only made worse when the tall man starts shouting. Aw, hells. No way I drank that much last night...those squidgutted bastards press-ganged me! Trying desperately to ignore his aching head and body, he struggles to his feet and focuses on the figures in front of him until the blurring and double vision is gone. The sound of an unfamiliar language from a pair of what he now realizes are his fellow victims draws his attention. Bird-man, elf, halfling...hells, no time for them, got to watch for a chance to make the best of this. He straightens up and starts to walk out past the mob of miscreants, wincing every time he has to shift his balance with the moving deck.
Perception
Intelligence
Still loopy from whatever happened at the bar last night, Atajay was oblivious to the surroundings. It took some doing, but the slender man was able to pull himself to his feet, or foot, as the case might be. As the ship lurched, he was forced to take a step forward, and his wooden left leg thumped loudly on the deck. He noticed some random stangers beside him, but other than that, did not recall anything. While getting his head about him, he decided that silence would be the most prudent course of action for the time being.
The man with the braided beard and whip snaps it again, clearly intending to miss Raveneau by inches, he gestures toward the giant man with the fat belly who you can now see is sweating profusely in the heat of the hold, sweat pooling in the folds of his skin. He points to the stairs behind him. "Now move! The cap'n wants words wit ya before Plugg assigns your duties."
The sweaty fat man readies his sap like he's about to crack Chak'Zirrak on the head. His voice is slow and halting as he says, "Master Scourge, this one said sometin too. Can I bash him? Mebbe he tastes like chicken. He kinda looks like Pluck too. Mebbe Fishguts can make me a pie of him?"
Scourge replies, "No you idiot. Fishguts has been going on and on about how parrot-men eat bad luck and the captain finally gave in. Little did I know we'd find one at the Maid last night. Leave him alone
As Gimlet speaks, Scourge adds, "Yeah and I'm going to be your worst nightmare if you don't get in line. Upstairs, the lot of you. Follow skinny-bones over there." he says gesturing to Ursion. "At least he seems to know a little of what he's doing."
His face falls as he hears Atajay's thunk, "Oh gods be damned. Slippery Syl, did I not tell you to check to make sure these swabs were fit. Ya got us another cripple like Ratline!"
The scary looking, pale, black-haired woman replies, "Looked like he might have some other talents Master Scourge. Maybe someone Peppery'd take an interest to. I can slit his throat and feed him to the sharks if you'd like."
"No, we need the hands. Let's see how quick you can move cripple. Up on deck now!"
By the time you get to the main deck, you can tell the ship is a three-masted sailing ship. About 100 feet long from stem to stern, and 30 feet wide amidships. Needs a minimum crew of about 20. Interior walls are generally made of 2-inch thick wood. Doors are usually wood too. Interior rooms are usually unlit during the day unless they have windows or portholes which the hold does not.
Oil of tagget. Pirate scum. Back on a ship, mother will love this.
Uriah files on deck with the others, keeping his head down and making no more waves than the ship already is.
What a tub. This will not end well.
Atajay simply stares at the black haired woman for a beat longer than would be appropriate, malice blazing in his eyes. There's two that I'll see bleeding before me one day. Master Scourge, is it? And the harlot as well.
As he looks away, he falls in line and begins his forced march to the Captain.
The sea breeze is balm and analgesia for (or at least a distraction from) the pain in Ursion's head. Trim enough, likely a fair crew on board; more, if they want her to fight. Well, let's see who leads this band of bastards. They'd asked, I'd've volunteered. Too late for that now. Head down and quiet, 'til it's time. He looks around for the bridge.
Raveneau attempts to not flinch, but thinks that he may have betrayed some disquiet to the whip wielder. Words kept hidden for now, though his visage is unchanged, he gives a short bow and moves for the topdeck. The names spoken are stowed in memory... to be retrieved later.
Profession Sailor:
A larger craft than I am used to... though the principles remain unchanged.
Gimlet takes in the threats, the whip, the cruelty....nothing he hasn't experienced before. But he knows how to avoid the lash, "Give them enough to leave you alone. Left alone, you are not their slave.".
Gimlet brings his knuckles his forehead, "Fair enough. Master Scourge was it? He indicates the door behind the scurvy crew, This way to the Captain then?"[/b] and he quickly pads through the door, looking for the stairs, counting his steps till he knows he might be clear of the lash.
Well at least someone here is superstitious like I'm used to. May get out of this yet
Chak will look around at his fellow conscriptees and if he notices anyone affected by seasickness and if so will trill a little song to help relieve them.
She stares right back. There is something hard and cold deep in those eyes, like her soul is dead.
Scourge snaps at Gimlet, "I don't like kiss asses either. Shut up, listen, and do what you're told and you might make it through the first week."
You make your way to the steps up, passing a set of stairs leading down deeper into the ship and the foremast where it passes through the Middle Hold. As you walk past, you hear a bellow next to you. A lean muscular man, with eyes like an animal and the biggest hands you’ve ever seen growls at you and shakes his chains.
Master Scourge laughs if any of you flinch, ”Meet the Owlbear mates! Bash your head in and then tear it off that one will.”
Up the steep stairs you go. They creak with your steps and when you reach the top you find yourselves in a cramped cabin with two narrow doors leading to the main deck. You see hammocks and rolled up sleeping mats with a few footlockers. Scourge growls, ”This is the officer’s cabin men. Off limits at night, but in day you’ll need to pass through here to go between the main and middle decks. Watch you don’t mess with anything, or you’ll feel the lash during Bloody Hour. Out on the deck now.”
When you reach the main deck, the light is blinding. You’re on a large ship in the middle of the ocean. Looking toward the stern, you can see that Port Peril is long gone, the mainland of the Shackles, an ochre haze many miles astern on the horizon. Figures cluster around the ship’s mainmast, looking up at a higher deck on the stern.
On the higher deck, two figures stand. One of them is a broad, muscular Garundi man with a shaven head, a long beard bound with gold rings, and an eye patch - clearly the captain.
The other is a younger, balding man with a long, black ponytail, wearing a long coat and carrying a well-used cat-o’-nine-tails.
You stand with nine other new recruits in the center of the deck. The other pirates with Master Scourge in the hold stay on deck or scramble up into the rigging where a few were already present. Together, you would judge that there are ten new recruits, including yourself and a dozen or so existing members of the crew.
Taking note of the warning the halfling elicits, Raveneau remains silent. The bear of a man does not startle him, but he does raise an eyebrow at the decoration he carries upon his shoulders. Finally making the topdeck his eyes turn to slits as he struggles against the influx of light.
Again he follows orders as given, though with a sour look upon his face as though he were sucking an everlasting lemon. He does however look around the crew and recruits to see if any of his kin are present...
Perception:
The tall man with black hair stares into the distance towards Port Peril, his green eyes seeking to pierce the distance between his former home and his current...prison. His gaze falls upon the Captain with contempt, his tanned skin marked by the win but his hands are not calloused by life on a ship.
There is weakness here, if I wait for it. I shall destroy this man.
Addressing the Captain, Uriah stands tall.
"What is your name and why have you taken us?"
Let us see how quickly he resorts to the whip.
The elf grimaces in additional disgust Forced to service and now afloat on a festering cesspool of the impure blood. The only one blessed with a single noble parent seems to have embraced the lesser of her heritage.
A pretty red-head standing next to and just behind Uriah hisses, "You looking for a berth on Besmara's Seawraith and are you just a f&$!ing idiot. Shut up!"
The warning comes too late. Uriah catches a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye before the knotted end of a hefty ship's rope slams into his jaw. Master Scourge growls, "I warned you twice. Prepare to meet your gods."
From the poop deck, you hear laughter, "Well, I was about to explain that I have one rule. Our new recruit here just broke it. Mister Plugg, lock him in the bilges with Magpie. We might have two keelhaulings tonight at Bloody Hour."
The balding man with the long ponytail and a long narrow beard, turns and walks down the steps from the poop deck. As he crosses the main deck, you can see that he wears an immaculate blue coat with pearl buttons over his bare chest. He carries the cat-o'-nine-tails and a nasty looking cutlass is at his side. His face is twisted in a grimace as he commands Scourge. "You heard the captain. Into the bilges with this one." He turns a murderous look on Uriah, "Never have I seen such idiocy. Pray to your gods that the cap'n sees fit to spare you tonight. I wouldn't."
Rough hands seize Uriah and drag him back into the officer's cabin and down into the decks below.
Gimlets big green eyes take in all the characters on the decks. When the tall fool speaks up, he takes a quick step to the left not avoid association.
Disciple was not much different than on a Cheliax vessel. Keep your wits and you will find a way off this ship as well. Speaking up is not the way...but not being overly helpful is not the way either. That is one difference from the Chellaxians...So just do enough to not draw attention or get whipped.
Looking at the trailing back of the man with the ill timed outburst Raveneau's is devoid of pity, though it is thoughtful. To test the boundaries one is given is potentially wise... though it looks that this Captain does not suffer challenge lightly
Atajay had an idea of how the captain might respond, so it was no surprise that the loud man was beaten. But bilging duty and threats of keelhauling were quite excessive. Although hatred burned in him for the ones that had taken him, he knew to bide his time, and remain the 'good' soldier, for now.
Ursion's lip curls just slightly as Uriah is carried off, then his face returns to schooled immobility as he turns his attention back to the Captain. Is this what a pirate captain has to be? Heh...I'll have plenty of time to watch him and the rest. For the moment he ignores the other recruits around him. Plenty of time to make their acquaintance as well, but right now they're not as likely as the captain to kill me for stepping wrong.
Chum (the big fat one) and Maheem (the silent tall Rahadoumi man) seize your arms roughly and drag you back down into the middle hold.
Passing the Owlbear, the chains clank again and you hear a short sharp laugh as they drag you past with Master Scourge right behind with a lantern.
Banging you around the stairs, they drag you down another deck. In the dim light of the lantern, you catch sight of footlockers against the walls and rolled up hammocks. A number of pillars support the middle deck above this hold. You are dragged to a trap door just behind the mainmast.
Scourge pulls up the trap door. "Magpie, looks like you've got company for your final hours!" You see the shimmer of dark, brackish water and a nausea-inducing odor wafts out of the bilges. Maheem steps down into the bilges, ducking his head in the cramped space before Chum pushes you down into his grasp. Against the wall, you see six sets of manacles, one set restraining another man who groans in response. Moments later, you too are locked in the bilges. From above, Scourge shakes his head and chuckles ruefully, "Might be heading for the quickest keelhauling on record. Best give some thought on how best to beg for mercy you fool."
Chum and Maheem scramble back up the ladder. As the door closes and darkness envelopes the bilges, you catch sight of thick cobwebs in the corners.
The captain waits for a moment after Uriah is dragged off. ”Now that's over with, Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for ‘volunteering’ to join my crew. I’m Barnabus Harrigan. That’s Captain Barnabus Harrigan to you, not that you’ll ever need to address me. As I was getting ready to say before I was so rudely interrupted, I have only one rule—don’t speak to me. I like to talk, but I don’t like your talk. Follow that rule and we’ll all get along fine.”
“Oh, and one more thing. Even with you new recruits, we’re still short-handed, and I aim to keep what crew I have. They’re be a keelhaulin’ for anyone caught killin’ anyone. Mr. Plugg! If you’ll be so kind as to make pirates out of these landlubbers, it’ll save me having to put them in the sweatbox for a year and a day before I make pies out of ‘em.”
At the end of the speech, the captain walks away, leaving behind the man with the cat-o’-nine-tails. He looks down at you and the rest and smiles unpleasantly as the rest of the crew scrambles to start their work for the day.
”All right swabs, I’m down a few men and I’ve positions to fill. You’re in for a few tests to see where you fit in. First is a climbing test. All of you, climb to the crow’s nest on the main mast as quick as you can! Now!”
- With a regular check, you move 1/4 your move speed.
- Failure by 4 or less means no progress.
- Failure by 5 or more means you fall. It is a little easier than usual to catch yourself if you fall because of the rigging.
- You cannot take 10.
-Accelerated Climbing: You can take a -5 penalty to move half your speed.
- You can also catch a falling character with a melee touch attack and must make a Climb check.[/ooc]
Atajay
Chak'Zirrak
Gimlet
Raveneau
Ursion
I'm not being taken to the damn bilges. Let's see how this goes. Atajay plods over to the mast, and digs in his boot as well as he can, trying to lift himself up, going for the crow's nest. His wooden leg clearly makes this task a bit more difficult for him.
Climb
Climbing? Chak looks at his hand and arms, Us Tengus aren't really built for that, but I don't want to join that other fellow
Chak grabs the rope and attempts to start climbing, but has no clue on how to even begin.
Round 1:
The sour faced elf maintains the scowl, but turns his attention to the task. Taking a run at the starboard rigging linking the maindeck to the mainsail Raveneau takes a leap at the netting before starting to climb slowly...
Acrobatics (vertical jump):
Climb:
...promptly getting tangled in the netting and slipping back onto the deck.
His head still pounding from the drug, Ursion runs for the rigging, checks over it quickly to make sure it's of a type he's familiar with, and starts up.
"Magpie was it? What are you in here for?"
Nothing unusual about the rigging. It is in fine shape.
Rd 3: Climb:
Rd 4: Climb:
Rd 5: Climb:
Rd 6: Climb:
Rd 7: Climb:
Rd 8: Climb:
Rd 9: Climb:
Falling damage:
Gimlet hops up and swings through the lower ropes like he was born in them, which in fact he nearly was. Looking down he sees the tangled mess of the rest of the crew. Avast there boyo! Clear the rabble, then an easy, easy, easy climb. Don't show off
Gimlet scrambles 10 feet into the rigging, like he's out for an evening stroll. Unfortunately, no one else fares as well. Raveneau and Chak'Zirrak both get tangled up and land in a heap on the deck of the ship, while Atajay and Ursion manage a slightly more dignified, but no more successful attempt and hang just off the ground.
Several sailors burst out laughing as Mister Plugg cruelly taunts the failures, "Aah, what a bunch of sorry, pathetic recruits Scourge has found this time. Hanging yourselves would be a mercy. Get up there and catch the half-man!"
Round 2:
With Mr. Plugg's insults ringing in his ears, Atajay again tries to climb up as far as possible. He knew there was no way, he'd get all the way up there, but any success, he would take. Once again, he gets nowhere fast, and he braces for more insults hurled his way.
Climb
Round 2:
The ranger realizes that his only real competition here is the halfling...and I don't need to hurry overmuch, for he's not so fast.
Chak'Zirrak bristles at the taunts, but has even less of a clue on where to begin to climb than he did before
Gimlet slows to a steady pace. Hah! This half-man is more man than you lot. You lost an eye already, someday it will be two.
Gimlet scrambles up another five feet to reach 15 feet off the deck with ease. Behind him, Ursion has much more success, reaching seven and a half feet. Atajay remains stuck just off the deck and once again, Raveneau and Chak'Zirrak get tangled up together collapsing in a heap with feathers starting to fly. The roars of laughter grow louder and Mister Plugg yells, "Badger, here's why we stay away from your pretty boys. They climb like the gods-damned pigs in the hold! Hey parrot, can't you just fly to the top?"
Pushing those near him out of the way, the sorcerer spits on his hands and gives the climbing yet another try.
Climb
Resisting the urge to say something back, mainly because he doesn't want to get his feathers full of whats in the bilge, Chak tries again
Round 3:
Ursion times his pulls to the rolling of the ship, easily reaching the 15' mark and gaining on the nimble halfling.
Gimlet easily scales the ropes to 20 feet, while below him, Ursion is even quicker, reaching 15 feet. In the heap at the bottom, Raveneau, Atajay, and Chak'Zirrak finally make progress, each managing to scale the first 7-1/2 feet. The laughs continue from higher in the rigging, but Mister Plugg finally gives you a moment to enjoy your success, "Aye, that's better. Maybe there is hope for you three after all."
Round 4
A few more feet...and if I fall, maybe I can land on one of those bastards down there!
Climb
Yes! I did it! Chak'Zirrak thinks as he continues to climb, finally getting the hang of it
"Good job, Parrot," Atajay speaks in a low tone, the first time any on the boat have heard his voice. "We might survive this after all. Maybe it's not as hard as I thought..."
Round 4:
Ursion hits a rougher patch, but still manages to keep climbing as he moves to avoid a luffing sail.
Gimlet continues to slip up through the ropes and sails, reaching 25 feet. But below him, Ursion is quickly gaining ground in spite of the obstacles reaching 22-1/2 feet. Further down, Atajay and Chak'Zirrak make progress, reaching 15 feet while Raveneau gets stuck. Plugg calls out, "A half-man, a parrot, and a pretty boy climb a rope. Who's the ass-end, pretty boy?"