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You found yourself in a dockside watering hole called the Formidably Maid enjoying your stint on shore between ships when several sailors begin chatting you up and invite you to join them at their table. After several rounds of drinks you feel the urge to use the head. You must have gotten up too quickly as you suddenly felt light headed and crashed back into your chair unconscious.
You are enjoying a night out on the town when you wander into a dockside tavern called the Formidably Maid. You join several other sailors at the bar and are soon buying each other round after round of drinks. Needing to relieve yourself you begin to make your way to the privy. You make it all of three steps before the whole room begins to spin and you fall to the floor admist a chorus of laughs and catcalls. "I couldn't be that drunk" the last thought through your mind before darkness descends.
You've spent the evening at a local tavern called the Formidably Maid swapping stories for drinks. The night has been a good one when a fellow presses yet another mug in your hand and drags you over to a nearby table with his friends, one of whom seems to have already passed out from too much drink. After regaling the table with a couple of stories followed by a couple of drinks you pause mid sentence as you seem to be unable to remember the punchline several seconds before your head hits the table.
You're spending your liberty with your shipmates at a local dive known as the Formidably Maid when an exotic looking woman with an eyepatch catches your eye. After a couple of rounds of drinks and some heavy flirting she leans and whispers in your ear that she wants to take you back to her place for "a night you'll never forget". She leads you out of the tavern and down a side alley, all the while giggling and laughing. Suddenly the laughing stops as four men emerge from the shadows of the alley. you put up a brave fight until suddenly one of the men lands a lucky blow that causes you to see stars. Unable to defend yourself the men continue the beating until, mercifully, darkness overtakes you.
You are passing by an alleyway near a local dockside tavern when a young woman emerges from the alley begging and pleading for your help, her boyfriend has passed out in the alley and is real sick and needs help. Grabbing your arm she tugs and pulls you in desperation. About halfway down the alley you notice a young man lying against the wall. As you bend to examine the man, the woman's pleadings stop as someone unseen throws a bag over your head. You struggle briefly before a blow to the base of your neck renders you unconscious.
You're sitting on a piling on the boardwalk outside a tavern as your ears perk up at the sound of a young woman pleading with a man to help her boyfriend. As the young woman begins to drag the man down the alley your curiosity is piqued and you begin to follow. You arrive on the scene in time to see two men emerge from the shadows behind the first man as the woman looks on. before you can cry out a warning, even if you were so inclined, one of the men throws a bag over their hapless victim as the second man clubs him unconscious. Turning to run you hear from behind you "The Cap'n says we need bodies, and that's a body. Git him" Before you can make it to the safety of the street the men's longer strides overtake you and you are clubbed from behind. Before darkness descends you can feel your arms and legs being tied behind you.
You wake up to the sounds of drums beating inside your head.
Jack Tar, Reijo, & "No Eyes" Bellamy:
Smacking your parched lips you can taste the cheap alcohol on your tongue and something else, nutmeg you think.
The nutmeg aftertaste is Oil of Taggit, a poison that renders it's victims unconscious for several hours. Someone slipped you a Mickey.
Your head still swims from the events of last night and you can swear that the floor underneath you is swaying slightly back and forth.
Before your eyes can adjust to the darkness a spear of light emerges from above as a heavy wooden grate is moved and a crude wooden ladder is lowered from the ceiling above.
The sound of heavy footsteps echo throughout the room as, blinking in the sudden light, you see seven men climbing down the ladder. The leader of this group, a man with a black beard, cracks his whip in the air as the other men slap saps into their open palms. Looking around the room, you realize you are in the hold of a ship as you see five other people in the room with you in various states of wakefulness.
The whip cracks again as the bearded man says to you “Still abed with the sun over the yardarm? On your feet, ye filthy swabs! Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap’n Harrigan flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!”
Instinctively you reach for your weapon only to find it and your other possessions are missing. You are left with only the clothes on your back.
Under the watchful eye of their leader, the remaining men move into the hold and begin roughly yanking people to their feet and begin herding them, none too gently, up the ladder.
Damn thinks Doc as he looks about and realizes he is nearly empty-handed. I won't be working my skills without my ingredients. Suppose it's back to a carpenter's life for me. Shoulda learned.
Doc takes a glance at the others and tries to catch each of their eyes as he stands up, wondering if they have any clue as to what is going on. Doc will submit to his captors and make his way up the ladder.
"Ahhh. Shang-hai'd?!? Great Besmara's Salty Breasts, man! If you'd asked, I prob'ly woulda come along fer the pay!" Jack stands and his neck cracks loudly. He looks around at the others and smiles mournfully. "Well lads, we're innit now. Up for the presentin' of the arms!"
Terry gets the nature of the situation pretty quickly, checking to see what, if anything, he was allowed to keep on his person while doing his best to comply with the orders being given. He waits for each order, and hesitates before complying, even though he knows what the process is going to be. No need to be seen as too eager or as argumentative, right now. Time to go along to get along. MUCH less painful.
As others who were shanghaied try to get his attention, Terry looks down at this feet, nodding slightly each time . . ..
Head throbbing, Bellamy slowly gets to his feet, swearing quietly all the way.
"...scurvy pox laden dogs... press ganged again..."
Well, it's not like it hasn't happened before; He thought, poking at his throbbing head. No damage at least.
He felt his wrist with his fingers; Yes, the wrist sheath was still there. He had options in case things came to blows.
Slowly, his clouded eyes begin to open. Sprawled out upon his belly like a splayed squid, his unfocused eyes take in his dark surroundings as the last of his drool spills upon deck.
Instinctively, he feels for his missing blades.
Son of a...
He remembers nothing. Nothing past polishing off his last bottle of rum at the Formidably Maid, at least. Yet it dawns upon his dizzy mind where he must now be, and how he must have gotten here. For it's not his first time in this sort of predicament, after all...
Shanghaied. Again!
Then the sound of footsteps, and the black-bearded man and his minions enter the room. As the blinding light and that voice grate into his hungover and throbbing head, anger rises. Reijo directs a mental insult at him.
A mangy keel-haulin' be good fer ye, y'small-balled son of a bilge rat!
The anger rapidly escalates and focuses his eyes now, swelling to rage, and his blood begins to boil... but he suppresses it, keeps it under wraps, keeps to his senses. For Reijo learned long ago his lesson the hard way, the last time he rushed to strangle the life out of a previous captor...
Slowly, Reijo stands up tall, keeping his scowling blue eyes fixed upon the whip-bearing man and his six petty swabs. Without breaking his intense eye contact, he wipes the spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand, and tastes something... familiar.
A mickey in me drink. Hmpf, figures.
As the others rise from the floor around him, Reijo breezily brushes himself off, as if he had all the time in the world.
But he makes not a move in defiance.
For now...
When the crack! of the whip wielded by the bearded man and the movement of the others in the dank compartment rouse Ploggy back into awareness, he rolls over and climbs groggily back onto his feet, rubbing his eyes and muttering curses under his breath... "Forró vödör vér! Ha akarta, a hajó fedélzetén, a Besmara, miért nem voltak ezek rohadékok csak kérni, hogy írja alá. A fejem még mindig csengett, hogy pofon között a koponyám..."
Under the pretense of pulling his pantaloons back up into place, the goblin surreptitiously checked the spot where he carried his fangfile, hopeful that the press-gang had at least missed one of his possessions when they searched him. Ah! It's still zhere. Nows oi just gots ta find vhere zhey've locked up Ol' Missy and gets her back. As the pirates herd him and the other 'recruits' up the companionway towards the deck, Ploggy is already trying to think of ways to turn this situation to his advantage, if at all possible...
As he files up the ladder with the rest, Doc feels a cold sensation against his stomach. Ah, they must've missed a vial.
As Jack heads out onto the deck, he feels a slight weight in the small of his back and smiles. 'Guess they didn't find that one, did they!'
He blinks against the sudden sunlight and his head aches for a moment. 'What did they give me anyway? Never had a hangover like this before!'
He stands straight as he can, peering around, looking for a captain.
Squinting in the light, and move carefully as a result of the plentiful bruises from his beating, Terry tries to start by getting an idea of the size of the boat, and then of the number of standing officers and crew.
Reijo gives a quick lookover of his new mates. This begins to jog his memories of last night, from out of the dark, drunken recesses of his mind.
'Blindey?'
Reijo follows after his new mates up to the top deck, with a gait that conveys confidence. As he passes each sap and whip bearing pirate, he meets their gaze without a flinch.
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The lot of you are ushered hurriedly up the ladder, to the main deck, as you emerge upon the deck you see that the ship you're on is a sizeable vessel, probably a hundred feet from stem to stern. You're also in the middle of the ocean, any visible land being just an ochre haze astern, fading farther in the distance. Figures cluster around the ship's mainmast, looking up at the higher deck on the stern, where two figures stand watching you all with interest.
One is an intimidating, broad shouldered, heavily muscled Garundi man with a shaven head, a large beard bound with gold rings, and an eye patch---clearly the captain by his demeanor. The other is younger man who is bald except for a braided black ponytail, wearing a long coat and carrying a cat-o'-nine-tails that looks like it sees regular use.
Looking around, you all notice that four other people stand apart from the crew by their apparent unease and relative cleanliness.
One is a red-haired woman wearing a tricorn hat with tattoos covering both her arms and skin tanned by years out at sea, a short, muscular halfling woman with a fierce scowl on her face, a large, angry looking young man with a blue Varisian scarf tied around his head, and a foppish looking older gnome gentleman, dressed in a wide purple hat, matching pants, an eye patch and an expensive looking white silk shirt.
A dozen or so other pirates, clearly existing members of the crew, stand about on the deck and in the ship's rigging, watching the show.
The big Garundi looks over the new arrivals, cruel amusement on his face.
"Glad you can join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for 'volunteering' to join my crew.", some of the collected pirates begin laughing at this statement, "I'm Barnabas Harrigan. That's Harrigan to you, not that you'll ever need to address me." His tone changes to ice "I have only one rule---don't speak to me. I like talk, but I don't like your talk. Follow that rule and we'll get along fine."
With that, he turns to leave but stops suddenly.
"Oh, and one more thing. Even with you new recruits, we're still short-handed and I aim to keep what crew I have. There'll be a keelhaulin' for anyone caught killing anyone!" He nods towards the bald man with the ponytail at his side. "Mr. Plugg! If you'd 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!"
With that, the Captain bursts into laughter and walks away, dismissing your existence from his thoughts.
The ponytailedman, Mr. Plugg, looks down on you all and smiles unpleasantly.
"The Captain has tasked me with making you into pirates and that is what will happen. I do not have time for idle chit-chat. I do not care about any of your opinions in this matter. They are irrelevant. I have places to fill and I WILL fill them."
He takes a few steps towards the group. "Behind me is the mainmast, on top is the crow's nest. You lot will climb to the crow's nest," he points to your group "Now! Move it, on the double!"
Terry cocks his head to the side as Mr. Plugg identifies the task, then shrugs as he tells everyone to get started. On the double . . .. Heh. Terry turns to the mast and starts scrambling up it like an old hand.
---
Jack shrugs, realizing the drama and pageantry that is life onboard requires a certain panache and cruelty, and moves swiftly to begin climbing up to the crow's nest.
HP -4/9
Jack's clearly not a ropes man, falling several times, but trying to make them seem more flamboyant than accidental. His last time, however, leaves him broken and bleeding unconscious on the deck, his leg at a bad angle.
As soon as Jack falls, Doc rushes to him, applying pressure to the scrapes and checking him over for broken bones.
Doc carefully steps up to the mainmast and places his hands on it, taking a deep breath before starting up. He is clearly uncomfortable but steeling his mind around the situation. Deep breaths, deep breaths. A situation will present itself. Should have known better than to follow a pretty lady into an alley; that's what I get for trying to help people.
fail
fail
fail
fail
fail
fail
up 7.5 feet
up 15 feet
no progress
up 22.5 feet
up 30 feet
up 37.5 feet
up 45 feet
up 52.5 feet
up 60 feet!
Doc is intensely nervous and takes some time getting his footing situated and his hand positions corrected on the ground before deftly making the climb up the top with little trouble. Phew.
"Hee! Ye sendin' ol' Bellamy up t' be lookout? A fine bunch o' pirates ye be!" No-Eyes cackles as he starts up...
7.5'
15'
22.5'
Fall! Takes crush damage.
Takes a moment to recover his breath and quietly Cure Light himself for .
Then he gets up and starts again.
7.5'
15'
still 15'
22.5'
30'
Fall! Lands on his head and takes crush damage. Goes to -8 and out cold.
Terry never even slows as he works his way into the crow's nest in only a few seconds.
From his perch in the crow's nest, Terry calls out to encourage those behind him. "C'mon, then! It's just a tree. We've all climbed trees before, yes?"
As the nearly instantly lethal falls start, Terry first reacts with laughter. "That had to hurt! Somebody get that man a . . .." At this point Terry realizes that falls were nearly instantly lethal, and the laughter stops. "A ship has a thousand ways to kill you, sure enough." I need to stay out of their way, give them the best chance they've got.
Terry climbs back down, slowly, taking his time. Once he reaches the bottom he looks to Doc. "Can I help you help them, somehow?"
Doc lets out a heavy sigh. "I've stopped them from getting worse. Unfortunately they took all of my medical equipment when they knocked me out. It was rudimentary at best, but it could help: I can't mix any curing elixirs without my supplies. I'm just an amateur, you know. Grew up on a ship, never got schooled. I can't heal with magic like that old blind fellow can."
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As you begin climbing Mr. Plugg shouts out "Any of you fall and splatter your brains on my nice, clean deck I swear to the Gods I will make you clean up yourselves."
Once Terry makes it to the top Mr. Plugg calls a halt to the whole exercise . The First Mate looks at Terry sitting atop the mast "You there, boy. You're my new Rigger. The rest of you get your pathetic arses down here and line up along the rail."
Doc meekly follows suit and lines up with the rest. He takes particular note eyeing down the new people on board who were not with them at the bar last night , trying to size them up. Do I dare guess which are friends and which are foes this early?
Bellamy is secretly relieved he didn't have to try that again and limps over to the rail as ordered.
"A lifetime on a ship and I never did learn how t' climb the ratlines." He shakes is head sadly.
Ploggy runs over to the ratlines connecting the railings to the mainmast and begins a steady climb up to the crow's nest, not hurrying overmuch as he's still feeling a bit groggy from being hit over the back of the head. Betta not show off too much or I'm like ta gets meself in trouble. Shows 'em you can be a sailor, but don't stand out too much - looks like I'm zhe only gobbo here, so no reason ta give all zhese longshanks any more reason ta hates me...
When the half-elf sailor swarms up to the mainmast, leaving everyone else looking like they're standing still, and Plugg calls the recruits back to the deck, Ploggy lets go the ratlines and grabs a stay instead, letting himself slide back down quickly to the railing, where he stands at attention blinking heavily in the bright sunlight.
Jack shrugs and half climbs/half falls down from the ropes. "I'm a lover, not a climber. What can I say?"
...
Now that he's out in the open air and smelling the salty sea breeze, Reijo begins to truly calm down. He releases his rage, and begins to feel more at home... but of course, that doesn't stop him from harboring homicidal thoughts about the captain or his hateful lapdogs as he gives each of them a squinty-eyed look-over in the bright sun.
Spotting the half-elven "girl" take quickly to the ropes, recognition dawns on Reijo. He gives Terry a squinty-eyed look, and realizes, in his soberness, to his shock the gender-related error he made the previous night...
'That's no lass!'
"Son of a drunken dungbie," Reijo mutters to himself. Passing thoughts concerning a cut back in his rum intake temporarily distract the dark red-vested man as the others get a head start on the ropes. With a calm walk, he is the last to approach them.
Choosing a starting point nearest himself, he begins the tricky climb. But having done this many times before, this seasoned sailor finds the task little more challenging than a stroll along the beach. He nonetheless paces himself, no need to rush. He reaches a bit less than halfway up when that "boy" reaches the crow's nest.
Taking notice of the two fallen comrades, Reijo shrugs from up high. "Mangy lubbers..."
...
Reijo makes the climb back down as well, awaiting the orders of his un-asked for new boss with the pleasantness of a grumpy cat. When Terry catches up to him, Reijo congratulates the new rigger, "Smartly done, Lassie."
But trouble brews a moment later... after reaching for his pipe and leaf pouch, the emptiness he finds there instead swiftly returns rage back into Reijo's mind... too much rage to contain. He BARKS in a frightening, gravelly voice, stirring up fear deep within the dark souls of men...
"SON OF A SCURVY DOG!! Where be me pipe an' leaf?!"
Reijo looks around at the pirates with rage and suspicion in his eyes...
No-Eyes perks up at the stentorious bellowing of Reijo. He turns his double eyepatched face about to try to locate him.
"Blindey Boy? They git ye too? He! He he..." He slaps his thigh chuckling.
Reijo's intense gaze shifts to Bellamy. "Don't suppose ye be takin' me stash. Ye can't be seein' a bloody rope in front o'yer bloody face, ne'er minds me smokes."
"Ha! Ol' Blindey... be climbin' the ropes to be the lookout! Yer lucky Four-Eyes ov'r 'ere be nearby to save yer blind arse," Reijo gestures to Doc. "P'raps 'e might spare ye a pair of eyes, eh? Then ye can both be Two-Eyes an' seein' proper!"
As he laughs at his own joking, Reijo slaps Doc on the back. Hard.
Then one of Reijo's eyes opens wider than the other as he notices someone shorter... and he cocks his head to gaze in amazement at the goblin, just standing there, like he thinks he belongs there. "An' whoev'r be thinkin' o' makin' a tar out of this lit'le rat as well be outta 'is prop'r mind, he be. Ye be lookin' like somethin' the Cap'n be orderin' me ta kill in the bilge, ye do..."
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Once you are lined up Mr. Plugg walks up and down the line, checking each of you from top to bottom, before saying "Can any of you cook? Fishguts needs help in the galley, he needs all the help he can get and I'm getting tired of eating his swill. Now don't be shy, speak up. Just remember there'll be Hell to pay if you lie to me." he adds ominously.
When the tall, blue eyed longshanks next to him starts muttering about killing him in the bilges, the goblin just blinks and gives an uncertain, toothy grin. However the momentary distraction is enough to cause him to miss most of what Plugg is saying. Perhaps he's still a bit concussed from the blow to the head back in Port Peril, but Ploggy does catch the words 'cook', 'galley' and 'eat', and his overly large ears start twitching. "Me loves cook. Me loves eat too. Galley bestest, most tastiest place on ship!" Realising that he's just spoken out aloud, the goblin claps his hands over his mouth, and desperately tries to pretend that it wasn't him that just spoke...
Jack stands still, knowing he has about as much skill with food as he does with climbing...
Don't suppose ye be takin' me stash...
"He he he! Don't worry boy, though I DO smoke a pipe now an' then. I smelt yer breath 'afore we was grabbed, an' I'd as like smoke carpenters shavings than any 'o yers!"
"Ha! Ol' Blindey... be climbin' the ropes to be the lookout!"
"Hey now! A little respect now pup dog! T'weren't the first time ol' Bellamy been picked fer lookout duty! In the fog mebbe, but still picked!"
Can any of you cook?
Bellamy shrugs and raises his hand. He faces Mr. Plugg (turning his eyepatched face the wrong way).
"Aye Mister Plugg, that be me main duty aboard ships past. A decent meal be a sailors right; an' I c'n make a good 'un."
Doc falls forward a bit from Reijo's slap but nonetheless gives the pirate a warm smile as he begins to feel a bit more comfortable with the situation.
When Mr. Plugg calls for a cook, Doc tentatively steps forward. "Can't say I know my way around a kitchen, but I know a thing or two about brewin'. Suppose it can't be too different; mix a bit o' this and bit that, right?"
Reijo cracks a smile at Bellamy, but before he gets a chance to retort his humorous comebacks, Mr. Plugg speaks up. Reijo responds to him now in a more respectful tone, albeit lacking in any less insulting a nickname. "Don't be lookin' at me, Mr. Baldy. I can fish alrighty, an' hunt when ashore. But makin' them critters be tasty ain't me specialty."
Reijo casts an expression of doubt at one of the applicants.
"A gobbie cook? 'E be thinkin' bilge rats an' barnacles be proper food! Blindey or Four-Eyes, if ye be askin' me. Blindey... eh, can't be any worse than a gobbie, ye be needin' a nose more than eyes me suppose. An Four-Eyes 'ere says 'e can brew? Well, that be a start at least."
Of course, Reijo has a completely different concept of brewing than what Doc speaks of...
Given the instructions that were passed out, Terry climbs down into the rigging to find a good seat to watch the rest of the show. As Ploggy volunteers to cook, he just shakes his head. As "No-Eyes" volunteers, Terry calls out "That's one space he can learn and control!". When "Doc" volunteers, Terry just sits quietly. Probably try to make rack of lamb and mint sauce . . ..
Ploggy whispers sotto voce to the tall longshanks, "Oi don' vant ta be da cook. Oi thought zhe bald one vas sayin' it vas time ta eat..." The goblin pauses and inserts a clawed finger into one ear, wriggling it furiously around before withdrawing and examining the tip of the claw. Peering at the offending disjecta, he then sucks the wax off his finger anyway, and begins chewing with every indication of enjoyment.
Reijo takes a step or two away from the goblin, a grimace returns to his face...
"Me rests me case."
"I second the angry man's case. The goblin does not get to cook." Jack says, staring disturbed at the goblin's feast.
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At Ploggy's outburst, Mr. Plugg turns around to try and figure out who had spoken.
as he stares down the line of recruits, Bellamy steps forward to volunteer. Staring dubiously at the blind man Plugg shrugs before saying "The drunk leading the blind. Why not, it can't be any worse than the bilge swill Ambrose has been feeding us lately. You,"he points at Bellamy " report to the ship's galley. You're our new cook's mate. Gods help you if the food doesn't improve." Looking at Terry he says "You, boy, are my new rigger and you'll report to me for your assignments every day. Don't make me regret my decision. The rest of you are our new swabs, report to Master Scourge" he nods at the whip holding man who rushed you out of the hold "for your assignments. Now, DISMISSED and hop to it."
Bellamy grins.
"Aye aye mister Plugg!" He throws a sloppy salute before feeling his way up to the forecastle (where the galley usually is) like a blind man. If in doubt, he will follow his nose.
Jack turns on his heel and stands at attention in front of Scourge, awaiting his assignment.
"Hmpf."
Reijo looks to Scourge, awaiting his new orders with zero enthusiasm. He absent-mindedly reaches again for his pipe pouch... memory of its absence returns, along with a grimace on his face. 'Son of a...'
Doc keeps quiet and follows orders, moving along with the rest.
Terry grins, a little, and works his way down to the deck before walking up to Mr. Plugg. "Reporting for duty assignment, then, Mr. Plugg."
Flicking the last of the earwax off his claw, then fastidiously wiping his hand clean on his pants, Ploggy scampers over to where Master Scourge stands on deck. Standing erect to his full height - about three and a half feet - the big-eared goblin smiles his huge, toothy grin and announces, "Reportin' fer duty, as ordered!" Inwardly he's thinking, Hopefully zey all has me pegged as a stupid gobbo now. Amazin' vhat ya can gets away vith vhen zhey all zhinks youse is daft...
Jack Day One Work Assignment: 4
Hauling Rope and Knot Work:
Jack keeps his head down on the first day, hauling the heavy ropes and tying knots while keeping his eyes out for any members of the crew who might make good bedmates or allies onboard. As the end of the day comes and everyone is looking tired, Jack begins a old sailor's song, his clear voice ringing through the sounds of work and sea!
That evening, Jack seeks to lead the crew in a rousing and very dirty round about a mermaid and her sailor love. However, his voice hoarse from the rope dust, he doesn't sing nearly as well as he might. He shrugs this off and smiles at the crew companionably as he drinks his rum ration! The drink warms his stomach, granting him a and making the rest of the crew look much more like a family than a band of cut-throat murderers stranded together in a leaky tree-trunk. Happy and warm, he heads to bed.
Terry finds himself assigned scut work for his first day. No surprise there! His focus is on clearing the deck and rigging of excess and loose rope, tightening down the ties about the ship, and properly stowing the excess rope so that it ready for use when required later.
A pretty boring activity, and one that makes it hard to pay much attention to what you are doing. Getting bored with his assigned work, Terry decides to spend some time looking around in the main hold, trying to get an idea of what the ship's currently carrying . . ..
In the evening, Terry chooses to continue exploring the ship, moving on to a below-decks area adjacent to the hold . . .. When his presence is challenged by another sailor, he just shrugs and lies "I was told ta see if I could find the bos'un's hat. He thinks he left it down here. You seen it? I don't."
---
Perception take 20 for 27 (Sneak)
Reijo spends his day trekking all about the ship, passing messages to the crew and officers. He does his work with sweat, if not with his full attention, as he mixes up messages here and there. Glancing where he may, he takes in the layout of the ship as he goes, or as much of it as he may see in his duties. He as well studies the crew members he passes, observing their persons briefly when they are not looking. In particular, he looks for pipe-shaped lumps in their pouches, or the scent of his tobacco. Ever on his face is a frown.
'All them bloody years ov bein' a ship's artist an' bosun, an' this 'ere mangy First Mate be havin' me run around doin' swab duties? 'E be havin' dung fer brains, 'e be. An' takin' a man's pipe? Take me weapons, take me armor... but ne'er takes me smokes! Who be havin' them, eh? Let's me see if me finds 'em today...'
Day 1_________________
Bellamy spends the first day getting to know the ships cook. Then wanders around trying to learn the layout of the ship.
DAY
He's fairly drunk.
Bull Session: Drinking with Ambrose Kroop and listening to his stories. The cook’s mate must drink an additional rum ration, but is able to take an additional ship action during the day.
-Work Diligently: Gain a +4 bonus on any one check for a job’s daily task
-Shirk: Take a –2 penalty on all checks for a job’s daily task and take time exploring one area of the ship. The PC can take 10 on a single Perception check or other skill check, but must make a check to avoid being discovered.
NIGHT
Drinks the Rum
Saves!
Drinks the Rum
Saves!
-Entertain: Make one Perform check to entertain the crew
He's kind of Mediocre tonight.