Do What You Want 'Cause a Pirate is Free! [[S&S PbP]] (Inactive)

Game Master Rorrix

Each of you spent the previous night drinking at the Formidably Maid, a notorious drinking establishment in Port Peril, where a press gang from the Wormwood marked you as targets. After drugging you into unconsciousness, the press gang dumped you in the ship’s hold to sleep it off, where you soon get a rude awakening.

You wake up the following morning in the dark hold of the Wormwood. You all remember the night before—the ringing laughter of a wild night, the heady joy of excess, the scents of rich stewed meat and perfume lingering in your nostrils. you feel a pounding headache, the sickly taste of cheap wine in your mouth, the hard floor, a rhythmic creaking noise, and the feeling of the room swaying, as if you were still drunk. Before the you can do much more than sit up, however, several pairs of heavy footsteps enter the dark room, and the harsh light of a lantern painfully spears the your eyes.

Master Scourge, the Wormwood’s boatswain, master-at-arms, and infamous disciplinarian, has entered the hold to wake you and get you up to the main deck. Six rough-looking Wormwood pirates, armed with saps, accompany him. An expression that might be mistaken for pain but which is clearly an attempt at a smile bruises Scourge’s face as he cracks the whip in his hand and screams at 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!”

Ostarian groaned softly as he opened his eyes into the creaking darkness. Drugged, he cursed under his breath. No business but a trap. No wonder he was staring. I had probably ingested several doses before falling.

With the lantern light now piercing the back of his skull, the obese man squints his eyes to allow his eyes to adjust. Pirates, he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, why would they press gang me? As if I have anything these fools could offer... His mouth salivates and stomach gurgles at the talk of sausage and breakfast, the purported source not seeming to phase him. Breakfast he says... I'm guessing there won't be any for the having. Nothing for it now. I'll have to run with this until the situation changes. Hopefully I won't be skin and bones by then.

Ostarian slowly and carefully rolls himself over to get into a better position in order to raise his hefty frame up from off the floor. He groans at the crick in his back caused from lying on the hard wood and leans from one side to the other, trying to stretch it out. Looking at the man for a moment he licked his lips, I wonder if I'll have a chance to feast on you? "Pardon me good sir, I seemed to have misplaced myself, could you direct me to this 'deck'? Will our breakfast be there?" He winces at his last question, unable to keep it in, his hunger having forced his hand.

Ri'el grits his teeth and shakes his head furiously in an attempt to clear the pounding within his skull, but the rigorous motion only serves to make the pain worse. Pressing his fingers to the temples of his head, he forces himself to focus his thoughts as the significance of the stranger's words dawn on him.

"Swabs? CAPTAIN Harrigan? I'm on a ship then...kidnapped. No, he said something about reporting for duty. Not kidnapped then, but press ganged. Honourless bastards. People are the same wherever I go. Ruled by self-preservation and self-interest. Sorry father, your teachings about honour and virtue were beautiful. They truly were. But THIS is the way of the world. The REAL world. And your blindness to it is why things turned the way they did. But I am not so blind. I AM going to survive this, and when the right time comes, I will make sure there is a reckoning."

"Not now, though," he thinks to himself as he eyes the six ruffians and their leader warily. "Too many of them, and I don't know how strong or skilled they are. Furthermore, I do not have the right spells prepared for more than a minor skirmish. I'll have survive by my wits for now. Fortunately, I've been doing that for about half my life now..."

He notes the words of the bulky man (that would be Ostarian) as he speaks, and sees in his words an opportunity to speak, and perhaps in so doing make a good first impression.

"Save your 'pardon me's and your 'good sir's. I know a pirate ship when I'm on one, and there are no ''good sirs' on such a ship. Or if there are, they won't be for long," Ri'el declares softly with a soft chuckle as he rises confidently to his feet and turn to face the man with the whip.

"I'll give you credit in choosing to press me into joining the crew. Though whether it is credit for a judicious eye or sheer luck remains to be seen. I am an experienced sailor and I know my way about a ship and the open seas. Quiz me on my knowledge if you like, to see if I am telling the truth. And if you are satisfied with my skill, I would ask that you put them to use. Whether I'm a sailor on a merchant or pirate ship doesn't bother me much. So I will join your crew willingly. BUT if I serve well, and I will, I presume that I will be appropriately rewarded for my contributions to the ship? Fair share of the plunder, the same as any of the other crew members? And a fair chance for advancement and promotion as I prove my skill?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23

Profession Sailor (to prove my skill as a sailor): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

"Not that I care that much about loot at this immediate point in time, but if I am to achieve either freedom or vengeance, I must secure some sort of distinct position. One that grants me greater privileges and access around the ship, to gather resources and allies. Man cannot be trusted, but man's NEED can be. Mutual necessity will allow me to find allies. Allies who will stab me in the back if it profits them, but if I can persuade them that they profit from me being alive and well-disposed towards them, I will be able to overcome this...hindrance."

"Only person...creature...I trust to watch my back is Thali...even if she really should have spoken up earlier about the guys creeping up on me. She's still new to the ways of the wretched world of men, I suppose. It makes her trustworthy...but sometimes not the brightest. Where is she anyway?"

GM, I note that Thali is flying near the ship, but do I still have my familiar pouch with me? Actually, for that matter, do we have our weapons, armor and other gear with us?

Iogorian jerks out of his hazy sleep with a start at the boatswain's bellowing. What the--where-- Memories begin to trickle back into his skull, and he frowns. Tavern. Drink. Celebrating my successful sale...just one cup. He smiles bitterly. Should've recognized the drug...perhaps a new one. Now then. Press-ganged. Bottom of the totem pole. Goal: survive. Likely allies: fellow pressed, slaves, any at the bottom. Assets?

• One foolish fat man. Labor value: slight. Exchange value: low/niche. Remarkably obese, unusual colored skin; may have research potential.
• One average, smooth-tongued human. Unremarkable. Tattoo. Lickspittle. Labor value: moderate. Exchange value: moderate.
• One good-looking halfling (unconscious). Labor value: moderate-low. Exchange value: moderate.
• One one-legged human woman (unconscious). Attractive. Athletic appearance. Labor value: moderate. Exchange value: moderate-high.
• The objects on my person.

Foes: one angry boatswain, six toughs, unknown numbers on deck. Strategy: lay low, establish allies, gather information.

Standing slowly, getting the roll of the ship into his body, Iogorian smiles at Scourge, and at the man who has offered his services. His voice is reedy. "This one knows his way about, it would seem, yes indeed. I've sailed on a number of...less than legal ventures myself, I admit. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. And, I'm sure, you, I, and the captain will be able to find a use for my many talents. I'm an experienced ship's surgeon, a bit of an apothecary, and a dab hand at the woodwork, though I say it myself. Yes, indeed." He lifts his fingers to his throat, subconsciously moistening himself. "I have many skills that you might find useful, though I admit that I am not the strongest man around, physically. Underwater repairs are a specialty of mine. Will the captain be assigning us our, ah...duties?"

One average, smooth-tongued human. Unremarkable. Tattoo. Lickspittle. Labor value: moderate. Exchange value: moderate.

I would have thought Ri'el was more in danger of being found presumptuous rather than obsequious, since he is seeking to use his skill and cooperativeness to bargain as an equal rather than be treated as a slave on account of being captured.

"Ugh... cram it with yer prattlin'! They not be here to listen to excuses!" The strong and confident voice comes from a tiny halfling, picking himself up off the floor as his head clears from its haze. His hand reflexively reaches for his sword, though he hardly expects to find it on him. Press ganged! Well, Jack, you've done it this time! Why couldn't you see that lass was trouble? Practically had it written all over her. He brushes himself off, straightening his clothes as a pretence to check what possessions he still has on him. Down to some scraps o' cloth and a backup blade at best. Looks like the most valuable thing down here... is these others. Better press ganged with allies than alone, after all. "Up! Methinks they not be tellin' us twice!" Jack kneels down to help rouse the peg-legged woman and get her to her feet.

I'm assuming armor, coinage, and obvious weapons are gone. Do I still have my Boot Blade? It'd be easily missed in a casual search. Edit: Most important question. Do I have my tricorne hat. O_o

"Don't 'good sir' me ye fat wreck! Only reason you's here's 'cause this dolt drugged the wrong drink." The boatswain hits one of the crew members much harder than playfully on the back to indicate him. "Can't waste good drug, so we're goin' to work it out of ye anyway. Only thing yer gettin' fer breakfast is me whip if ye don't skedaddle up them stairs this instant!"

He turns to Ri'el slightly amused by his words. "Yer smart, I'll give ye that, but yer still a swab t'me. Ye'll have yer chance to find yer place on the ship later, an' we'll see how well ye do. Fer now, stop gabbin' and get goin' ye cud!"

Mister Plugg looks with disgust at the gillman. "We found more'n curatives an' cutlery on ye, no foolin' here. Ye may find yer place on this ship yet, but no such luck for ye now. Get up on the deck and don't try an' impress the captain like that either; he's not got time fer swabs who think themselves special."

I'd be listenin' to yer half-pint friend here if I was ye. I'm runnin' short on me own patience fer this gab, an' me whip hand's itchin'. Up t'the deck with ye! Now!"

I'll make up a list as to what each PC still has on them, but keep in mind it's REALLY not much. You may have been able to sneak a very small/concealed weapon on, and perhaps some small mundane items that may have been overlooked, but you were each searched pretty thoroughly with scrutiny. I'll also be putting up a ship map shortly.

Ri'el notices Iogorian scrutinising himself and the other captives.

"Oh? It appears we have a rather sharp fellow here. He too appears to have appraised the situation and arrived as much the same conclusions and ideas as myself. Men like him make good allies, dangerous enemies and above all should never be trusted. Bargain with him, make mutually beneficial deals and arrangements, but always be ready to find his knife pointed at my back. Damn it Thali, where are you? I need someone to watch my back!"

"The little one reached to his waist for a weapon...a warrior, from the looks of it, and he does move with an appropriate poise and grace. A fencer, and from his words, a man of action. Also useful, in a different way. And if he proves truly guile-less, it will be easier to tell when he is thinking of selling me out. All in all, easier to associate with the sharp one. The sharp one is more useful where one needs to plan and act cautiously, but when a scrag comes a-charging, or even for something mundane like taking watch, I'd take the little one ."

"As for the fat one...well...it seems he likes his food. I sure hope he has some talents to match though. Otherwise, I'm not sure how useful he'd be in an escape or mutiny attempt.

Ri'el shrugs at the boatswain's words and casually makes his way up the stairs .

"Not a guy with an appreciation for skill and knowledge. Quite the thug, from what I can see, actually. Nothing special about him. But the [redacted] had the temerity to call me a swab! A low-level grunt! It's reasonable enough that a newcomer starts at the bottom and works his way up, but I don't intend to be on this ship for that long. At least he did say 'you would get your chance to find your place on this ship later'. Hopefully not more than a fortnight from now at the most. In the meantime, let's see what I can make of this situation..."

Weird, my post never appeared.

Jack lingers long enough to help Peggy to her feet (er, foot) before making his way up to the deck. He glances about the hold to ensure he hasn't missed anyone or anything.

Anyone here besides the five players, six thugs, and the boatswain?

Iogorian blinks at Plugg's rebuke (or, sorry, is his name Scourge? I got lost). They found-- A black rage paints out his vision for a split second before he comes back to his senses. My books. Bastards have my books. Stay calm. Get them back soon. Mix up some surprises...

He just smiles tightly and nods at the boatswain, then heads to the stairs and on up, only glancing back briefly to watch the halfling help the woman up. Likes being liked. Possible weakness.

EDIT (forgot to add): As Iogorian climbs the stairs, he casually lets one hand rest on his thigh, and smiles as he feels the small, hard rectangle of his razor. Excellent.

Peggy starts awake as Jack prods her. Quickly glancing around and taking in her surroundings she let's free a heavy sigh, before claiming to her foot, letting Jack help her and giving him a quick smile of thanks and spitting into the corner to clear her dry throat. Well back to being a swab again I suppose. First things first. What do I have,... Well no weapons or friends, better make some quick or who knows what they'll do to me, won't last long without some allies. Harrigan, have I heard of him? No. Ok then, first things to make sure I'm seen as valuable, then we can see where we stand.

As quickly as possible she makes her way up to the deck seemingly unhindered by her missing leg. Shading her eyes as she emerges from the dark space into the full sunlight and scanning the sky with hidden urgency. Pipsqeak. Ye'd better not have gotten herself killed ye stupid bird. spying a small dot in the sky high above she grins to herself and lines up as directed, waiting for the others.

Oops wow, I totally got Mister Plugg and Master Scourge mixed up. They're both kind of huge a!+&$#*s, so it's hard, forgive me. :'D Master Scourge is who woke you, Mister Plugg is the one next to the captain once you get to the maindeck as described below.

You can tell that this is probably the ship’s main cargo hold. The hold is mostly empty, save for 14 pigs that are kept caged. In the forward section, a flight of wooden stairs climbs upward, while a second set of stairs descends into the lower hold. A large impeding man who seems to have bits of tar and feathers stuck to him is chained to the foremast here. He watches everyone warily when they are escorted past him up the stairway. Another flight of stairs in the aft section leads up as well, but the way is blocked by the pirate thugs. Stored near the mainmast are two light ballistas, a disassembled light catapult, and 12 barrels.

Each of you is escorted up the stairs by one of the thugs as you ascend. The stairway results in a cramped cabin occupied by hammocks, lockers, and sleeping mats. There are two doors to each far side, and two more closer to the middle. Master Scourge produces a key to unlock one of the middle doors and allow you through, quickly locking it back behind him.

When you reach the main deck, it’s quickly apparent that you are on a sizable ship in the middle of the ocean, far from any land. Port Peril and the mainland of the Shackles are just an ochre haze many miles astern. Figures cluster around the ship’s mainmast, looking up at the higher deck on the stern, where 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 also notice that you are not the only new recruits—four others are standing with you on the deck, set apart by their relative cleanliness and their apparent unease with their newfound situation. A dozen or so other pirates, clearly existing members of the crew, stand about on the deck or in the ship’s rigging. Captain Harrigan begins to address all of you.

"Glad you could join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for ‘volunteering’ to join my crew. I’m Barnabas Harrigan. That’s Captain Barnabas Harrigan to you, not that you’ll ever need to address me. 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 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. There’ll be a keelhaulin’ for anyone caught killin’ anyone. 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."

At the end of his speech, the captain walks away, leaving behind the man with the cat-o’-nine-tails. This is Mister Plugg, the Wormwood’s first mate. He looks down at you and the other impressed captives and smiles unpleasantly. Plugg has no time for small talk or pleasantries.

"Alright ye dogs, first thing's first," Plugg says, addressing the five of you. "I needs me a new rigger, see, so what'cher gonna do is climb yer arses up this here mainmast. First one up to the crow's nest is the new rigger, and the rest o' ye'll be swabs. Might spare one o' ye to cook with ol' Fishguts, if ye consider that sparin'!" He laughs menacingly and points upward for you all to start climbing immediately.

Master Scourge
Mister Plugg
Captain Harrigan

When you're ready to climb, you'll need to make consecutive DC 10 climb checks to climb 60 feet at one-quarter your base speed. A climb check that fails by 4 or less means that you make no progress, and one that fails by 5 or more means that you fall from whatever height you have already attained. Whoever can make it up in the least amount of climb checks gets to be the rigger. Good luck, swabs! ;D

Quickly adjusting to the yaw and pitch of the ship, and pulling her simple leather tricorn low to shade her eyes Peggy watches the others as they emerge in turn from the darkness. OK, so lets see what we have here,... A halfling: I remember seeing him last night - charming his way into that redhead's pants if I'm any judge. Looks like he knows his way 'round a ship. A fat man: For the gods' sake stop looking at his belly! He must weigh four've me. No wonder they didn't want him. Still, maybe he knows how to cook - looks like he enjoys his food anyway.
A thin man: Looks a bit sick with that cast to 'is skin. Sounds smart, but not smart enough t' keep his trap shut. Could get himself into trouble quick if he's not careful. Gods I wish he'd stop lookin' at me like that, makes me feel like a fish ready fer guttin'. Said he was a surgeon - that could be worth knowing. A Tien?: Thinks alot of 'imself and doesn't know when to keep 'is head down, but does seem t' know his way around a ship.
Scourge: A bully if ever I saw one... Best keep out've 'is way if ye can... Nice coat though.

Gods, but my head feels like its been stuffed full've wool. Can't believe I drank so much last night - Stupid. Well could be worse. If they're desperate enough to want t' keep the fat one on there might be room t' move up in this crew.

<Edit>

Ye gods he's a biggun' Peggy thinks to herself at the sight of the captain, Scourge n' Plugg - well they're the ones to look out fer.

At Plugg's words, Peggy steps lively and, quick as she can, makes her way to the rigging. Rigger's better'n Swab, best see if I can make meself useful..

Iogorian stands, easily adjusting to the ship's motion, and listens as the captain explains his terms and hands them over to Mr. Plugg. Exceptionally big man: major muscle buildup thanks to decades hard labor and combat. Must note, would be interesting to examine the sinews connecting the skull through those massive neck muscles...

When the latter commands the climbing competition, though, Iogorian blinks. He squints up at the crow's nest.

He looks at Mr. Plugg.

He looks up the mast again, and sighs. This is...not likely to go well. In emergency, razor could be used to create handhold. Better to save it as a weapon unless in a life-threatening situation, though. Grimly, and without another word, he begins to climb. He makes it no more than a few feet before having to half-fall, half-jump back down to the deck, stumbling slightly. He grits his teeth, circles the mast for a moment, then, casting a careful eye over it, strides up to it and begins to climb, much more assuredly now. Although he pauses once to catch his breath, he manages to make it to the top in good time.

Ri'el sucks in a breath between clenched teeth at the thought of needing to climb the rigging. He is well aware of the limits of his physical strength, and had always avoided the crow's nest for that very reason.

"Ol'Fishguts sounds like quite the unpleasant character, but the cook's galley may hold interesting opportunities for me. They've foolishly left me my entire packet of holly berries. They're useful for the goodberry spell, but if I dump the juice from entire packet into a single meal, I could also give the entire crew dysentery at an opportune moment. And the galley may have other berries for me to use for my spell so I can save my little red jewels for later. Somehow, I don't think they'll let me get away with not making at least an attempt at climbing, though. I just need to make sure I'm not the first."

"Besides, there's someone up top I'm hoping to see..."

LOL Iogogiran with the +1 bonus gets there before Peggy with the +5

Once at the top, Ri'el casts a glance around the surrounding area. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies a familiar figure - a small, somewhat feral-looking brown bird.

"Thali! Thank the spirits you are alright!"

He stretches out a hand to Thali, beckoning his old friend to approach, but also puts a quick finger to his mouth to indicate that it should be silent.

"No sense in alerting the others to the fact that I have an avian friend who can speak. Or to the other things she can do..."

I'll see how many of the others get up top before me, then decide what to do next. And I'll need to see if there's some way to get my familiar pouch back...

Jack listens to the captain's speech, sizing up the gigantic man with a keen eye. So that's the man responsible for all this. Someday, there'll be a reckoning, and as my mother always said, 'The bigger they are...' He glances around at the others as Plugg explains the challenge. Rigger's a good job, if a bit dangerous. Anything's better than swabbin'. I'll not last long with that sort of work. With a grin, he dashes off towards the mast, moving with a speed hardly to be expected for his size. He scurries up the mast like a cat, hardly stopping to check for handholds, and trusting lady luck to see him through any slip-ups.

Jack listens to the captain's speech, sizing up the gigantic man with a keen eye. So that's the man responsible for all this. Someday, there'll be a reckoning, and as my mother always said, 'The bigger they are...' He glances around at the others as Plugg explains the challenge. Rigger's a good job, if a bit dangerous. Anything's better than swabbin'. I'll not last long with that sort of work. With a grin, he dashes off towards the mast, moving with a speed hardly to be expected for his size. He scurries up the mast like a cat, hardly stopping to check for handholds, and trusting lady luck to see him through any slip-ups.

** spoiler omitted **

1/4 base speed little Jack. 7.5ft / success for you means 8 successes needed. - you're only half way up so far.

1/4 base speed little Jack. 5ft / success for you (20 base speed) means 12 successes needed. - you're only 20 ft up so far.

Nope. 30 foot speed, taking -5 to climb at half speed.

ahhh- good thinking! Disregard.

Jack grins as he reaches the top, unable to resist a little pride in his accomplishment. But blessed luck! If I didn't feel like I'd escaped some atrocious fate at the last of the climb there! He shudders in relief, having felt the faintest premonition of the fall he almost took when a handhold seemed just barely out of his grasp. As each of the others reaches the crow's nest, he gives them a hand to climb up, introducing himself to each one now that they have a chance to talk unobserved. "Good to get away from them blaggards, eh? Me name be Jack Thimble, Jr. And yours?" He gazes over the edge, down to the crew standing out of earshot below. "Methinks it best we all stick together on this voyage, among such a fine gathering of scum and scallywags as we be findin' ourselves!" He lets out a little chuckle. "Jack's got yer backs, if ye have his."

Jack takes ten on a climb check to aid, granting anyone within 5 ft. of the top a +4 aid another bonus to their last climb check, thanks to his Helpful trait.

Not wanting to linger long and invite Plugg's wrath, he plans to descend the mainmast shortly after he gets the others' responses.

Iogorian manages to scramble over the top and drops/falls into the crow's nest, blinking in surprise to see Jack there. Ah. Not first. Probably good. He stands and dusts himself off, looking over the edge to track the others' progress, though he makes no move to help them.

"Iogorian is what men call me," he says to the halfling abstractedly. "And I take it you prefer Jack." He smiles at Jack. "I'm sure that we'll find a way to work together for both of our benefits..."

Dear gods, he's creepy. That smile. How can a mouth open that wide? I think he's looking at me with hunger.

Outwardly, Jack responds with his characteristic grin and a wink. "Glad t' hear it! Be ye as good with a scalpel 'n saw as ye claimed belowdecks? It be a good sign to have a surgeon aboard."

Still keeping an eye out over the edge of the crow's nest, Iogorian slips an eight-inch long razor from his pocket and flicks it open, keeping it out of sight of those below. "I prefer razors to scalpels. A scalpel is so hard to transport on shipboard, I find--unless you have a specially made cover for the tip, and I always seem to be misplacing mine. A razor works just as well for anything needful on a vessel of this ilk--surgeries required don't tend to demand all that much precision. But I know my way around razor, saw...or ax. And I know my fair share of drugs and remedies." He frowns. "I know some more...extraordinary...formulae as well, and I've a dab hand for magic, but those swine took my books." He glances at Jack and half-smiles. "If you see my formula book or my reagent kit, make sure to tell me. I could cook up quite the marvelous concoctions. Give you a growth spurt, if you'd like." He chuckles at his own joke.

"So that be what ye meant by 'apothecary.' I'll be sure to keep me eyes peeled. Me rapier's gone missing too, and I be not half the fighter I'd be otherwise without it." He grins at the comment about height. "It'd merely throw me balance all off if I'd be yer size! Small size be havin' its own slew of advantages. Least of all be sneakin' about, looking for misplaced books and swords." He gives another wink as he helps the next climber up top, and repeats his introduction.(Likely Ri'el, since Peggy was almost on Iogorian's heels.)

I'll take it that Ri'el was close enough to hear the words in Jack's last post, and Iogorian's statement about 'marvelous concoctions. He still does not know Iogorian's name, having missed that part of the introductions.

"Talk about retrieving books and swords, and a unusual apothecary. It would appear the halfling is a fencer, and the 'apothecary'...is a rather special sort of apothecary."

Ri'el regards the halfling mutely for a moment, then shifts his gaze to Iogorian's razor (him being the only one of the group Ri'el did not want to see with a weapon).

"Not sure what manner of apothecary or ship's doctor favours a razor to a scalpel... but in any event it would seem these two would make valuable allies, even if it's forced by necessity."

Finally, he smiles and nods, then holds up a finger to silently request a moment as he beckons Thali to his side, and as the thrush-like spirit lands on his hand, he turns to regard the trio again.

"My name is Ri'el, or Ri for short," he says formally, in an accent both oddly familiar and strangely un-placeable. "And yes, sticking together would be a good idea. We were all brought here against our will, and will need each need allies and some solidarity if we are to survive. I will watch your back too as you watch mine, Jack. The same for the two of you as well, apothecary and mi'lady."

"A word of advice, if I may. Any of you already familiar with life on a ship will know that discipline is often harsh on a ship. This is so even amongst the merchant ships, and especially so on a pirate ship. Thread carefully. It's best to make them think you are useful, the more valuable they think you are to them, the more you are likely to be able to get away with."

He nods to Iogorian. "You with the sharp eyes. It seems you already understand this. You did well telling them you are a surgeon and a carpenter. Both are valuable skills on a ship, assuming they do not already have such skills covered amongst the pre-existing crew. Jack, looks like you're going to the the rigger. Alot of climbing about and maintaining the sails and rigging. I wish you luck with that. It can be a dangerous business."

"Myself, I was hoping to get the role of navigator, but it would appear they are only looking for a cook's mate and the rest of us will be swabs...and it sounds like the cook's a nasty piece of work even to our task-master down below. Nonetheless, I think I might take my chances with the cook. A decent captain knows to keep an eye on his crew's nutrition so that the crew doesn't fall to scurvy, so there will likely be fruits and vegetables in the galley...and being around plants is advantageous to me."

He pats Thali lightly on the head. "I have some affinity with certain creatures of nature as well. This is my friend, Thali. I had a special pouch that was fitted for her, but it seems the idiots who captured us took that from me... Why they would take a portable bird-house but leave me with my cestus is beyond me, but I worry about taking her with me to the deck without it. Jack, as rigger, this crow's nest will be your little private domain, to some extent. I hope I can have Thali stay here whilst I try to recover my pouch. I assure you she knows well enough to not foul this place up in any way."

Since Shamans are a new (and potentially relatively unknown) class in Golarion, Ri's ambiguous description might lead one to believe he may be a druid, and it's partially intended that way, just to keep things interesting. ;)

Iogorian nods his approval and smiles. "Ahh, a thrush! Hylocichla mustelina, as the Azlanti called them. I had quite a fascination with birds some years ago; beautiful creatures, though extraordinarily--fragile. Their bones are hollow, did you know that?"

Blessed Besmara this one talks a lot! Jack's head spins with the onslaught of conversation unleashed upon him. He takes it in stride and gives the bird a tip of his hat. "I suspect ye'll be havin' to fight for the cook's role with the pudgy 'lubber down there. Fella seems he could eat the whole galley and look fer seconds!" Jack looks down bemusedly at Ostarian's efforts (whenever he's finally able to post again! heh). "Methinks this one best have some useful talents if he be to survive the week!"

Ri's eyes widen at the alchemist's observation. This man was the last person he wanted to hear that from. He shrugs uneasily by way of reply and leaves it at that.

Ostarian lugged his hulking form onto theck with the others. On the way he noticed his dagger was still belted to him, trapped under his fleshy folds. Well, at least they weren't too thorough. Still, my pouch may have been better.

After the speeches, the fat man stares at his meaty hands and then up at the rigging... and then back down at himself before looking at the one known as Plugg, his ears perking up at the mention of... "Cook? Why, a it happens, I do know my way about a kitchen and spice rack, why I...," he trailed of under the glare off the man and sighed moving to the rigging, giving one last appraising glance at the man. Probably not very tender, but he'd become so once his flesh had aged a bit... He then made his attempt.

Peggy cursed as the notch carved into the bottom of her peg pulled against the rigging. Damned thick ropes! she cursed as the Halfling moved swiftly upwards Best t' widen the notch tonight! Pulling her peg free of the ropes she swiftly made her way upwards to join Jack and Iogorian, and to wait for the others, perching on the edge of the crow's nest, seemingly unconcerned about the swaying mast and the long drop below.

"Well done" Peggy says with a grin to Jack, "Rigger's a much better spot than swab - mind you it won't be the first time I've done the job. Name's,... well call me 'Peggy' I guess. Everyone else will, and they always seem t' think they're the first t' make th' joke. Hello Thali," she says as the bird lands. " you're a little'n aren't you. If you look up above you might be able t' see my friend "Pipsqueak". I'd be mighty grateful if ye'd let 'I'm perch up here when yer on watch Jack - he might even let yer have some've the fish he catches if he likes ya. In any case I think we should,..... Yikes did ye see 'I'm fall. Felt the whole ship move! Say, he doesn't look all that well...."

Ri'el winces as Ostarian hits the deck hard and loses consciousness. With a sigh, he pulls out his little packet of berries and begins a soft chant as he pours a few of them out into his hand and weaves a pattern over them. As he chants, the tattooed mistletoe along his arm seem to grow more vibrant and shift a little, as if stirred by a breeze, then fade to their former appearance as he finishes his spell.

Goodberry: 2d4 ⇒ (4, 2) = 6

Ri'el picks out 6 of the berries and carefully slides the remainder back into the packet.

"Holly berries," he says by way of explanation. "Usually you don't eat more than 1 or 2 because they are poisonous in larger quantities, but with the right blessing, they can heal wounds and provide good nourishment. Now, let's see if I can save the big guy down below."

With that, he feeds one to Thali, then puts the remaining five berries into his pocket and starts his descent.
This should negate the need for Thali to find food for a day, since a goodberry also provides nutrition as a full meal for a medium-sized person.

Round 1: Move action to draw berries, standard action to cast.
Round 2: Standard action to feed Thali, move action to keep remaining 5 berries
Rounds 3-7: Climbing down

Ostarian will be bleeding for 7 rounds before Ri'el can get to him. Hope you stabilise before then! If not, well, at least you won't die before I force-feed you a goodberry. XD

As soon as he reaches the ground, Ri'el fishes out one of the enchanted berries from his pocket and pops it into the fat man's mouth. With a grimace, he works the man's jaw to crush the berry and let the enchanted juice and pulp flow down his throat.

"This should keep him from dying. Now then, it appears that I will not be best person for the role of rigger, but you did also mention that you are in need of someone to help the ship's cook. I am a decent cook myself, and more importantly I am well acquainted with identifying and distinguishing between edible and poisonous plants and herbs, and I know how to keep food from spoiling for as long as possible. (Thank you purify food and drink orison.) Since I will be eating the same food as the rest of you I'd rather I be around to help cook a decent meal than suffer dysentery at the hands of someone less competent."

He looks at Mr Plugg and smiles casually. "Of course, I am also a skilled navigator, so if you want me employed in that fashion, I'm happy to do that instead."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20

Sorry Ostarian, not intending to directly vie with you for the position, but I had intended to go for it, and Ri'el would not have heard your bid for the position. If he'd heard you, he might have let you have it. =( Also, Ri'el would only have given you one berry to stabilise you, but would be eating 2 himself and keeping the remaining two for emergencies.

And if you've bled for more than 2 additional rounds, I wouldn't have enough berries left to bring you back to consciousness anyway. On the plus side, you probably won't need to do work for a day or two. XD

Oh and don't forget to regain 1 hp for the goodberry.

Stabilize: 1d20 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (7) + 1 - 2 = 6
Stabilize: 1d20 + 1 - 3 ⇒ (7) + 1 - 3 = 5
Stabilize: 1d20 + 1 - 4 ⇒ (19) + 1 - 4 = 16

After a few moments Ostarian stops bleeding, breath ragged. For the moment, he lived.

The crew japes and jeers at the climbers as they make their way up. There were already bets being made before anyone had started climbing. Hardly anyone expected the halfling to clamber up so quickly, an those who did lined their pockets with their shipmates' coin. They are particularly amused by the fat man falling, Mister Plugg himself laughing the hardest. After Ostarian's second plummet leaves him lying on the ground, they get hysterical in their enjoyment.

The other newly press-ganged members don't seem to be laughing about it, one particularly less so. A woman with fiery red hair and a pipe hanging from her disapproving mouth steps forward to Ostarian and begins to try stabilizing him immediately.

Heal: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11
Ostarian goes to -3

She can't seem to keep him from bleeding out, but she tries again with determination on her face.

Heal: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Ostarian goes to -4

She tries once more, praying to Besmara under her breath.

Heal: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Ostarian stabilizes on his own anyway though.

Once she's sure he's stable, she pulls out a flask of smelling salts, pops it open, and waves it under his nose. This brings him back to consciousness. As he sits up, she asks him "How badly are you hurt? I have some curatives if you think you'll need them. I'm Sandara Quinn by the way."

It's not long before Ri'el comes scrabling down the mast to offer Ostarian a berry. Sandara thanks him for the help.

"Good to see that you're well-prepared for eventualities, miss, and that I'm not the only one who's willing to help a fallen man when he can," Ri'el says to the fiery-haired woman with a friendly nod and a brief chuckle at his own pun.

"Also a little naive, to be so willing to offer healing to a man you know nothing about...but I suppose I was about to do the same. Strange. Why did I do that? To secure more allies? Maybe. And maybe that's why she intervened too. Or perhaps she is a rare pure soul, like Thali. And naive, of course...I suppose she reminds me a little of what I used to be like. Perhaps...but let us see how a week or two on a pirate ship shapes you, young lady. Will I find in you someone who's like the rest of mankind? Or maybe, just maybe, someone actually worth protecting?"

"Name's Ri'el. You are?"

Ri'el missed her intro, but I assume she reintroduces herself. Whilst she does so, Ri'el will pop 2 of the goodberries into his mouth, healing himself up to full hp.

"Charmed. If you have any healing magics you are able to employ, this might be an opportune time. If this man does not get a useful role on the ship, he may well find himself thrown overboard, what with the attitude of the rest of the crew," he adds with a jerk of a thumb towards the jeering on-lookers.

Ostarian, Ri'el is still holding out a berry for you, but at this point, with your injuries, he is hoping that a more potent healing spell from Sandara will be more worthwhile. Fortunately, you are conscious enough to protest. Also, you're conscious enough to cast your own spell. It'll knock you down 1hp, but then heal you back to consciousness.
I suppose another question is do you want to let the whole crew (and/or Ri'el and Sandara) know what you are. XD

Also, hope none of the others fall on their way down...

Oh s***, I forgot, Ostarian no longer has his component pouch...guess it's just the goodberries that can heal him for now...unless someone has a drop of devil blood handy...

Plane's about to take off so this will be brief.

Jack scurries down the mast, taking ten to travel down at a leisurely pace. He rejoins the group down below in time to hear Sandara's introduction, compliments her in a low voice for helping the fat one, and introduces himself. He's hardly overt with it, but he definitely lets it be known he's admiring of her attractiveness without being too forward or crude.

Iogorian also climbs down slowly and carefully, dropping onto the deck with a thunk. He squats by the downed Ostarian. "So I'm not the only one here with some healing skills...good to know," he murmurs quietly, listening intently to Sandara's introduction.

EDIT: Should've made explicit that I'm taking 10 to get down.

Peggy follows the others, careful not to let her peg once again get caught in the think ropes of the rigging (Taking 10). Once she drops to the deck she stands back, leaning against the mast to watch the woman and Iogorian minister to the fat man and scanning the rest of the crew,...

Hmmm, let's see who looks like they're enjoying this the most. Always worth known' who's going t' have yer back if y' get hurt too bad... Ok so clearly the woman, Ri'el and Iogorian would be good to know a bit better. And Jack,.. well he's a flirt, but seems alright. Plugg's definitely one t' look out for.

GM: Peggy's looking to see if any other crew members seem to be particularly enjoying Ostarian's pain.

As the acrid scent of the smelling salts invade his olfactory senses, Ostarian's nostrils flare and eyes snap open. He struggles in order to sit up and his eyes fall upon the fiery redheaded woman. "My aren't you a delectable morsel...," he says before wincing, whether in pain or chagrin is difficult to tell. Fool, wake up! This is not one of your old family slaves. From the sounds of things she's something of a healer. Quite dangerous. Play the nice naive rube. "My sincerest apologies my lady, my mind was muddled from the fall. I had the briefest of impressions that I had entered the world beyond, and my lips got ahead of my intellect. I am Ostarian Thrune, at your service. I am, shall we say, out of sorts. Unfortunately, my dear, you had best keep your less... mundane of curatives to yourself. I am afraid that I suffer from an allergy, something of a curse I would say in this particular situation, let me tell you. If I had some of my things, I would easily bring myself to ship shape, so to speak, in no time at all. Given our present circumstances, however, it seems bed rest and light duty is all that will work in the interim."

The obese man glaces over at Ri'el as he makes his entrance and takes the proffered berry, turning it over in his hands before popping it into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue to savor the flavor. "Holly Berry? With a little extra it seems. Not bad. My thanks, but Ms. Quinn and I have already discussed the option and it was determined she has best keep such magic to herself or save it for those who could fully use it. You are correct that in my current condition, I am limited in what I can accomplish. I can, perhaps, stick to some light duty, the cooks aide perhaps, given my experience in the culinary arts, along with the tender ministrations of the skilled woman here, or that of this young man perhaps," he adds almost inquisitively after Igorian's comment, "should help me get right as rain in short enough time."

Since I can get a 15 on a heal check by taking 10, and 15 is the DC to perform first aid or long-term care, I assume I can ascertain the extent of Ostarian's injuries reasonably accurately. Also, it occurs to me that even untrained, I am a better doctor than Iogorian...and our characters can all be thankful for that! XD

"I suppose it depends on how light the duty of the cook's aide will be. Considering how Plugg didn't consider one's allocation as the cook's aide as being 'spared', I'm inclined to think that it will be at least as onerous as the duty of a swab, either by virtue of the duties involved or the temperament of this 'Fishguts' fellow. In any event, it looks like you've ruptured a few internals, and even the slightest exertion would have the potential to resume the internal bleeding. In your condition, I'm not sure you will be able to handle anything beyond slow walking."

"I overheard some of your words to Miss Quinn... Could you elaborate on the nature of your affliction? Even if healing magic will only have a limited effect on you, some will be better than none, and you look like you could use all the help you could get, especially if we are to avoid having you tossed overboard..."

What's the right knowledge check and DC to identify Ostarian as a Damphir?

Also, my next post after your Ostarian's answer will probably be to ask to take the cook's aide duties whilst Ostarian recovers, then swap to swab (or navigator's, hopefully) duties once he recovers sufficiently. Keep in mind that anything resembling a standard action will cause you to start bleeding again.

Was also wondering about the knowledge check to ID dhampirs. Nature would seem right, but technically I see humanoids listed under Local...

Iogorian casts his eyes over the downed man. "Bed rest, for certain. Indeed, he can hardly be handled too gently. I would be more than happy to tend to this man," he offers to Plugg, patting a small pouch on his side. "I see your men left me--wisely, I think--with my store of bandages and pads. If you have my drugs hidden away somewhere on shipboard, they would be of even more use."

Knowledge (Nature) if useful for IDing him as dhampir: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

How about knowledge religion to know that vampires can sometimes leave their taint in mostly-mortal progeny? If I know that, I can guess from the context what Ostarian might be, even if I wouldn't normally be able to tell just by looking at him.

Knowledge religion: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

It's a Knowledge (Local) check since he's a humanoid.

In addition to Plugg and Scourge, Peggy can see 3 female humans, 3 male humans, a female half-elf, a male half-orc, and a male dwarf who seem to be relishing Ostarian's pain more thoroughly than the rest. They begin booing when Sandara helps Ostarian up. With a stern look of contempt on his face, Mister Plugg curbs his enthusiasm for the fallen man and speaks up.

"'Nuff o' this nonsense! Looks like ye won't be worth yer weight after all. Still, two hands is better'n none, even if they is a bit porky. A big boy like you ought to know how to cook at least. Fer yer sake, ye better hope ye can. Bed rest 'til ye can work in the galley. 'Til then, this'n will take yer place," he points to Ri'el. Glaring now at Sandara, he continues, "And Quinn, ye best not be showin' these swabs no sympathy. Ah'll have yer head before I have a soft crew, y'hear? An' since ye seem to like him so much, I'm going to have ye tend to fatty here during yer free hours." He intentionally ignores Iogorian's request for his drugs back.

Rigger Duty: 1d6 ⇒ 4

"Now, looks like shortie here is me new rigger. What's yer name, pipsqueak? Yer workin' with me, an' today yer handling the ship’s ropes. Ye'll be coilin' 'em, stowin' 'em, an' securin' 'em to cleats an' single an' double bollards." Profession (Sailor) or Dexterity check.

Addressing Iogorian and Peggy, he says, "Yer both swabs, so yer under Master Scourge's jurisdiction. He'll tell ye what yer tasks are."

Finally, turning to Ri'el, he says "Head down to the galley where ol' Fishguts is. If'n he ain't drunk himself drowned, he'll give ye a task. If'n the fool ain't sober, come back to me fer yer task. Help Quinn get fatty down the stairs on yer way."

He now shouts out to the rest of the crew, "Ye know yer places already, get a move on! Entertainment's over, it's time to get to work!"

Ri'el grunts as he helps Sandara heave Ostarian to his feet.

"If healing spells aren't going to be much good for Ostarian, you're going to need my goodberries. Alternatively, I'm a decent medic as well. No formal training, but I've done alot of field-work and seem to have a good head for it. If you want my assistance, you'll know where to find me. I'll have a few more berries ready tomorrow."

He helps Sandara carry Ostarian to the lower deck, then laughs softly once they're safely out of earshot of Plugg. "Actually, it occurs to me that I have no idea where on this bucket the galley is! Ain't he the genius, that Plugg. Tell you what, I help you carry this guy to whatever passes for a sickbay on board this tub, and you take me to this 'fishguts' guy."

"And tell me a little more about yourself on the way," he adds as he flashes her his most charming smile.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24