Finding unsuspected reserves at the end of the day, Lucky manages to get his work taken care of.
You manage to corner Sandra while she take a break from her duties on deck, smoking a pipe behind the Wormwood's jolly boat.
"I take it you seekin' me out means Lucky got you my gift. Turns out the quartermaster, ol' Grok, is a superstitious drunk. An' she's drunk all the time. I convinced her my equipment was sacred artifacts of the Pirate Queen." Sandra blows smoke rings playfully, a smirk on her face. "Told 'er she'd suffer Besmara's curse if she didn't let me have it all back. She gave me some of your stuff by mistake."
When you arrive in the Galley Strom is hard at work preparing the meal for the coming evening. Fighguts Kroop is passed out in a corner, snoring heavily. The door to the Quatermaster's Store is locked, but a small serving window is open and you can see a stooped form busying itself with some task on the other side.
Daytime action: sneak below decks to find Mkutubi (rapping on the walls and hooting until I locate him)
You spend a fair amount of time in the middle hold. The large man chained to the mast calmly downs handfuls of crabs as he quizzically watches you go about your business. When you look in his direction he smiles and hoots in imitation of you.
You think your search is fruitless when a rap on the wall of the quartermaster's cabin results in an unmistakable thump from the opposite side. More hoots and tapping convinces you to Mkutubi's presence on the other side, though you feel the ape's responding pounds through the floor boards, not the wall.
Mawimbi calls out to his friend; tells him to stay calm. If the quartermaster is around, he would stop in to talk about the ape- if he had time. If not, he would tell his friend (through the wall) not, absolutely NOT, to bite off any fingers- even for fun. (Emphasis added to make sure the quartermaster knew he was serious).
"I take it you seekin' me out means Lucky got you my gift. Turns out the quartermaster, ol' Grok, is a superstitious drunk. An' she's drunk all the time. I convinced her my equipment was sacred artifacts of the Pirate Queen." Sandra blows smoke rings playfully, a smirk on her face. "Told 'er she'd suffer Besmara's curse if she didn't let me have it all back. She gave me some of your stuff by mistake."
Šeherzada thanks the woman for her help, and promises aid in the future if she wants it--a favour for a favour.
###
When you arrive in the Galley Strom is hard at work preparing the meal for the coming evening. Fighguts Kroop is passed out in a corner, snoring heavily. The door to the Quatermaster's Store is locked, but a small serving window is open and you can see a stooped form busying itself with some task on the other side.
Šeherzada nods to Strom as she walks in, and fights the urge to retrieve Shahriyar from his temporary prison.
When she reaches the quartermaster's, she peers through the serving window, and raps hard on the timber wall.
Hello? Got a minute?
My name's Šeherzada; I came aboard in Port Peril.
When I came on board, I had a set of small wooden statues with me in a velvet bag. They're precious to me, that's true, but they're also part of my faith. Have you heard of the empyreal lords? They're angels who have become strong enough to be gods. The statues work for my faith like a holy symbol does for another worshipper, and they provide a direct connection to the gods themselves.
I've never been separated from them for this long before, so I'm worried for two reasons. Firstly, the empyreal lords might become angry at their representations here on the material plane being confined. And second, because of the way the faith works, the influence of the empyreal lords might bleed over to some of the other things they're being stored with--the empyreal lords can be covetous at times and they tend to lay claim to things that aren't rightfully theirs.
Do you mind if I take a look at what you've got in the same chest, and I can tell you whether the items have been affected? Then you can choose whether or not you want to return them, or keep them--but I warn you that the wrath of the empyreal lords is not something to be incurred lightly.
The quartermaster remains silent for some time before finally stirring behind the door. You hear the half-orc rummage around in the cramped room and after a few moments she hefts an open chest in view of the serving window. "This dem angel dolls you speakin' of?" On the top of the assorted goods in the chest are your statues. It's apparent Grok took the time to arrange them side by side before bringing the box up to the window.
Strom tries to duplicate his efforts from the day before with the cooking.
Šeherzada offers Grok a warm smile.
Yes, these are the ones, she says, retrieving the statuettes gratefully.
She picks through the other items in the chest, holding each one up to the light in an effort to look like she is examining it closely.
In the end, she selects the following items:
- The fiddle (5gp according to Grok|5 total).
- Strom's throwing axe (8gp|13 total).
- Lucky's rapier (20gp|33 total).
- Mawimbi's spear (2gp|35 total).
- Strom's scimitar (15gp|50 total).
Šeherzada makes a surprised noise when she picks up the candle. Grok, do you know what this is? She turns it over in her hands. I think this is magic.
If Šeherzada gets the chance, she'll also bring up the orang-utan.
Is that an ape in there with you?
Šeherzada ponders how to bring this up, and in the end decides that being truthful might be the best option.
One of the men I was brought aboard with--the jungle man, Mawimbi? That's his friend, Mkutubi. Šeherzada calls to Mkutubi, hoping to evince some reaction from the ape.
Bloody Hour
As the bell tolls to single the end of the day, and the start of bloody hour, several members of the crew are led to the foredeck, Mawimbi standing among them. For failing his assigned duties Master Scourge has Mawimbi's hands tied to the foremast, strips him to the waist, and administers three lashes to the man's back.
The task done, Scourge roughly unties the man's bonds. He leans in close and smiles, his breathe heavy on Mawimbi's face. "Best keep yerself on task, Jungle Man." Scourge shoves Mawimbi to the deck before stalking off.
Strom watches with gritted teeth as Scourge whips Mawimbi, imagining all the ways he'd like to pay Scourge back. He moves towards the man as Scourge says something in his face, and places a heavy on on Scourges shoulder, hopefully on top of still-healing lash wounds, "Master Scourge! Thank you for your well wishes this morning, it was a vigorous start to our day. Next time pay us a visit yourself, won't you?" Strom's voice drips mock sincerity and he keeps a smile, or bared teeth, in Scourges direction. He helps Mawimbi move towards his group of allies, settling him down with concern. "Can anyone do anything to help him?" he asks quietly, looking at the others faces.
If I must drink: Cha Bonus: for hours.
Con Damage: , Non-lethal: .
Avoid addiction DC5:
Strom leaves the others in search of Grok, looking on deck and in the galley to find her. When he does he approaches with a friendly smile, "Ahoy Grok, Strom's my name. I hear you got the run of the supplies, you must have a strong hand to keep us mangy sailors out of it. Say I was wondering, what'r the rules about weapons aboard ship? I've seen plenty around, but don't want to go getting myself in trouble if I can avoid it." He smiles, and wonders if he's making a good impression at all.
Mawimbi laughs, coughing slightly in pain. He runs his hand over his injured back, covering it in blood. He then proceeds to lick the blood from his fingers, saving enough to mark two red lines under his eyes. He then stops to pray to Gozreh.
He drinks his rum:
Cha bonus duration hours
Con damage Nonlethal
Addiction And he's addicted....
For his night action he tries to find Mkutubi below deck.
Earlier in the afternoon, Šeherzada returns everyone's weapons.
###
Šeherzada watches Mawimbi's punishment with a wince, but is glad when he seems to recover quickly.
###
Šeherzada will try to find out two things: (1) who owns the fiddle, so she can return it (paying the favour forward, so to speak) and (2) who on the crew is the best fisherman.
Cecic watches Mawimbi's beating counting each stroke, knowing that his body is liable to face the same one day. Not an appealing prospect. After Mawambi is dropped to the floor and he struggles up, Cecic follows Mawimbi intent on offering him help should he need it. Yet to his amazement the man from Mwangi starts to cast a spell upon himself, Cecic smiles as he sees the deep cuts left by the whip, close and heal, I must ask him about that.
"Mawimbi, I see you are able to heal yourself of the wounds from the whip. Indeed that is a boon from the gods, would you tell me how you do that? And are you fully healed, I may be able to offer you some respite from any pain that remains?"
In the evening Cecic drinks the rum.
He searches out the captains cabin girl and will try and befriend and influence her, gaining information about the captain's cabin.
Those who walk in faith with Gozreh are granted small boons, like the spell I just cast, my misbegotten friend. To those with great patience, come great rewards. speaks the jungle man, in a perfectly accentless voice. He leans down and whispers I fear for this ship. It's captain and officers are not in sync with nature. A well run ship skims the sea in harmony. It doesn't take a prophet to see that such overtly unlevel actions will draw this ship to Davy Jones's locker before long. When trouble comes, I intend to find you and our small band and live. he proffers his hand, slightly stained with his own blood, to see if the small man agrees.
Strom, watches their exchange, and tries not to look squeamishly at the hand jutting towards Cecic.
You find Grok in the doorway of the Quartermaster's Store shortly after delivering the nightly rum ration. Her back is turned to you, and she appears to be preparing to close up for the evening. "Dis be a pirate ship, not no merchant trawler; it ain't no safe place, an' everyone's got steel on 'em somewhere."
Grok quickly stands and turns, a greataxe previously hidden from view in hand. She brings the weapon down swiftly, embedding it in the deck at her feet. The half-orc flashes her crooked-toothed grin and caresses the weapon's haft affectionately. "Dis answer yer question?" She then swings the weapon over her shoulder, pulls the door to the Quartermaster's Shop closed behind her, and heads toward her cabin. After she's gone you notice the door to the Quartermaster's store didn't latch.
"Yessir, ma'am sir." Strom smiles at the half-orcs mannerism, feeling this was someone he could really get to know, and watches appreciatively as she departs. Turning back he notices the door isn't completely latched and grins a wide grin of excitement. He checks back the way Grok left, wondering if the interesting creature left it open on purpose or not. He casts a glance in Fishgut's direction, making sure the man still snores, and heads into the Quartermaster's store. He looks for his items and any other items which look like they might belong to his small group of friends.
As Cecic is on deck, he notices Caulky on the poop deck. he hurries over. He coughs and looks up at the woman, "Hello, excuse me but I'm new to this ship. I hope you don't mind me disturbing you, but I'm new on the ship. Would you be my friend, you aren't one of those nasty grown-ups that treat me as a slave. I could help you with your chores if you want, I don't mind!" his voices pleads as a child wanting affection.
Šeherzada seeks out the halfling during the course of the evening.
Šeherzada feigns a stumble and goes down to one knee, her head close to the halfling's. I have your fiddle, she says quickly and quietly. I want to give it back. Meet me in the lower deck, ten minutes.
With that, Šeherzada lurches back to her feet and makes her way back to her locker, where she has stashed the fiddle. Then she sits down to wait.
Šeherzada looks around to make sure nobody else is paying close attention, and then retrieves the fiddle from her locker and hands it over. She has wrapped it carefully in the spare cloth that until yesterday morning, was part of her skirt.
I got that from Grok under false pretences, Šeherzada says quietly. She doesn't know how much it's worth, so make sure you keep that to yourself. The last thing either of us need is the quartermaster getting angry with us.
If possible, Mawimbi requires to smuggle a bite of food to his captured friend.
What does his cage look like?
Feeling pretty worn out from the day's activity, Lucky decides not to drink himself into a further stupor. He stands by the rail, apparently exhausted and distraught by witnessing the punishment of his fellow crew member, and feeds the rum to the sharks when nobody's looking.
Affecting a sullen attitude, he takes advantage of the quartermaster being on deck monitoring the drinking and slips into the store. Having learned from Šeherzada where to find the rest of their gear, uses a rusty bit of wire he pulled out of the bilge as a pick and manages to spring the lock and quietly hauls everything in the chest down to his locker.
At which point he crawls into bed.
Caulky looks somewhat surprised by your appearance, but her expression quickly turns to one of amusement. Now that you have the chance to observe her closely you realize the ship's cabin girl is a young woman, probably in her late teens. She runs one hand through her shoulder-length raven hair and places the other on your head as if to comfort you. "I don't think the Captain would appreciate you hanging around me. Keep your head down, do what you're told, and stay out f trouble. They won't hesitate to toss you to the sharks if you annoy them."
Suddenly alert, the woman looks around cautiously as if she's heard something. She removes her hand from her head and withdraws toward the Captain's cabin. Caulky offers a smile and a wave as she disappears below the poop deck and out of sight.
"I ken deal with that sow, Grok. The last thing I need is some beltless lubber who probably spreads 'er sails fer every sharkisser in Port Peril tellin' me what t' do." The halfling's face softens before she continues. "I am thankful fer what ye done, though; ah suppose even a bilge bumper like yerself ken understand what the small pleasantries mean on the water. Thank ye." Rosie takes her fiddle with her as she leaves the hold; by the end of the hour she can be found on deck striking up a tune.
You cannot see the cage clearly, but you determine it to be of sturdy iron construction. A heavy padlock is used to secure the door to the cage.
Closing the locker behind him, Lucky brings his loot back to the crew's quarters. He stuffs everything into his locker and then climbs into his hammock to rest after the long day's exertions. The masterwork thieves tools he hides in the cuffs of his pants, and his own set he carries tucked into his belt. His crossbow he puts in the bottom of the chest, and his rapier he keeps with him as he sleeps. He packs a flask of acid and one of alchemist's fire, along with the rest of his own gear into his backpack and tucks it under the other's gear. He waits until any of the others comes down, and whistles them over.
"Look in my locker," he whispers. "Take what's yours and let the others know."
Mawimbi debates trying to bash the lock open with his dagger, but realizes that it wouldn't work. He returns back to the bunks and seeks out Lucky. Lucky. Next time you're wandering... could you see about unlocking Mkutubi's cage? He can handle himself once free.
Strom doesn't attempt to break any of the other locks but puts the number of lockers and chests in his head and reports his findings before sleeping to the others. Lowering his voice once he finds them, "I've just been into the Quartermaster's store. I saw a set of two wooden lockers, a wooden trunk, a metal trunk, and two wooden chests. Each container was secured with a lock except for one of the wooden chests -which had a broken lock," He pauses and gives Lucky a significant look, "was that you Lucky, getting our things back?" He smiles his gratitude as he retrieves his things from Lucky's locker and then wonders out loud to the others, curiosity thick in his voice, "I wonder what the other chests contain?"
That night he dons his studded leather armor, the leather fitting over him like a second skin. He sighs a small sigh as he does so, having felt very... soft without it. The buckler and all other weapons go into his locker for the night, except his throwing axes -which he keeps handy even while sleeping.
"Where exactly is Mkutubi's cage?" Lucky murmurs softly, without opening his eyes. "I'll see what I can do tomorrow night." Though a part of him wonders about the safety of opening a wild orangutan's cage.
"I don't believe I broke the lock," he says. "I'll certainly investigate as much of the ship as I can, when it's safe, but I'm not after a keel-hauling, either." Then again, he thinks, he had just risked one to get his lockpicks back, which was a big slice of idiocy. Risking it and then doing nothing further would be even more foolish.
Strom looks perplexed, "Then how did you get our things out of the chest? Was it one of the two wooden ones?"
Šeherzada is somewhat taken aback by the halfling's aggression, but with a name like Cusswell, perhaps it was to be expected.
Happy to help, Šeherzada says--and leaves it at that, for now.
When Lucky shows Šeherzada her other belongings, liberated from the quartermaster's store, she visibly recoils.
Sorry, she says, but I don't want to risk being found with that stuff. I don't think the Captain, Mr. Plugg or Master Scourge will stand on ceremony if they decide a search is warranted. They will open everyone's lockers and punish whoever has stolen equipment. If you want to run that risk, that's fine, but I'm not going to do that. I value my life more than my belongings. She subconsciously pats the velvet bag at her waist that contains her statuettes.
Worse comes to worst, you just toss my things in the bilges, or overboard, if you think you're going to get hurt. I don't want to be responsible for that.
With that, Šeherzada goes back to her hammock, to a troubled sleep.
Mkutubi in the quartermaster's quarter. Cage. Padlock. Next time we get chance, we go.
He overhears Seherzada: Hide elsewhere, not locker. Then when we're searched, it's not us who stole it back.
Strom can't help but get a little heated as he thinks of the injustice of it, "Well hold on, we've seen pirates bearing weapons, some better concealed than others, but weapons don't seem to be forbidden. Besides, I don't mind getting caught with my own things. If they come to steal it again, lets just say that this time I'll be ready." He shrugs, "But that's just me."
Lucky nods at Šeherzada's objections and says nothing. He certainly won't force anyone to take anything that they don't want.
"I'll do my best," he says again to Mawimbi.
To Strom, he shakes his head. "The last thing we need is to get into a dispute about it. Her things are on my account, as are my own. They can't kill me twice. We each take the risks we're willing to take. If we try to force one another to do more or less than that, then we're no better than Scugg and Plourge."
Strom nods his head slowly, "Agreed. I'm not wanting to force her, honestly I was hoping for some reassurance in my own decision." He grins a bit ruefully, "But as you wisely said, I'll just take my own chances and leave it at that."
Cecic says goodbye to the girl, "I'll wait here for you tomorrow night, perhaps we can talk again." as he waves in the darkness.
Cecic comes back mumbling, talking about the difficulty of befriending the cabin girl. It would seem the captain's quarters will be out of bounds for a while, at least for Cecic.
When he returns Cecic asks if the trip to the quartermasters brought back his weapons or armor, a light crossbow (halfling size) and bolts, a rapier or his armored coat. As an after thought he asks about his belt with many pockets, which would contain some herbs and other useful stuff that he'd collected, if not he asks if anyone visiting the quartermaster can retrieve any of his stuff, otherwise he'll have to get it himself. Which he explains isn't as easy as it seems, because as halflings go, he's not noted as one of the quiet ones, his feet seem to make more of a noise than most, or was that the smell and his general clumsiness. Who knows but he hasn't been able to be very clever at keeping himself out of everyone's notice.
Looks right by me!
The weather is good on the Wormwood's third day out of Port Peril. Captain Harrigan emerges from his cabin occasionally to check the heading and wind, but most of his time is spent within his cabin. Mister Scourge makes a point to glare whenever he notices you looking his direction, and this visible distaste at your presence is now mirrored by Fipps Chumlett, the overweight and balding swab that attempted to bully you the previous morning. You go about your daily tasks without incident; once the evening meal is brought on the deck the halfling Rosie Cusswell makes a show of producing a masterwork fiddle from her locker. She plays the instrument with ease, and even takes a couple of requests before turning in for the evening; you note the halfling offers a wink to Šeherzada before she withdraws from the deck.
Thin white clouds race across the sky on the fourth day of the Wormwood's voyage. Little of significance occurs throughout the morning, but roughly an hour after the sun peaks in the sky you notice Giffer Tibbs, a gnome swab with a missing eye, emerge from the hold onto the deck. Tibbs had been charged with manning the bilges this morning, and her unexpected presence on deck does not go unnoticed; Mister Plugg waves the gnome over to him and begins speaking with her.
As Cecic looks over the side he steps back his face draining of blood, a little shocked. He edges forward once more and points for his companions to see. "Those rock, you know them? If you don't then let me tell you I hope we don't get any closer. It's the home of Aashaq the Annihilator and her cult, a bad tempered red dragon, or at least that's how the stories go. They say when she stoops from the sky even the brass fittings melt and the rivets become liquid as the ship burns to its very core. No one survives." he looks round at his friends to see if fear takes hold of their hearts, before continuing, "but I sure we're far enough away that we won't disturb her sleep." he smiles and moves back from the side, though his knees seem a little weak and his walk isn't so strong, his smile hiding a fear beneath the mask of his face.
Lucky has been aboard a ship or two in his time, and notices the sun coming up aft and to the starboard when he comes on deck. He wonders at the change of course, but not too long. He knows they are headed deeper into the Shackles, but his thoughts are more on surviving aboard this ship than on where they may be headed.
He recognizes Dahak's Teeth from tavern tales heard in Port Peril, and feels a cold chill despite the tropical heat. The halfling does nothing to ease the fear that settles on them, bringing vague memories of half-remembered stories into sharp focus. "Lady spare us from dragons," Lucky mutters, under his breath, and returns to work. There is nothing to be done about dragons other than to hope the Pirate Queen and Captain Harrigan keep them out of reach.
Of much more immediate concern is Tibbs report of snapping spirits in the bilge. He doesn't wait too long before finding an opportunity to approach Tibbs, and putting on his best we're-all-in-this-together smile, asks her, "Did I hear right? There's some sort of spirit in the bilges?"
"Oops, did I drop that heavy block on your foot?"
Mawimbi, with Mkutubi trailing him, spends his days high above the deck amid the many lines of the rigging. He revels in the salty breeze and communion with the sea, while his furry friend has donned a bandanna and a vest, making him look, from a distance, like a squat and furry sailor. Together, they carefully replace spreaders and shroud lines using Mawimbi's carpenter skills and judicious applications of the mending spell.
Mawmimbi seeks to ingrain himself in the crew by making himself invaluable to the riggers. The addition of an extra set of hands to haul and hold rope, plus the return of his magic (mending in particular) should hopefully work well with his daily chores.
He also would start taking opportunity to assert his toughness. Any challenge from knife throwing, to diving, to eating disgusting foods (purify food and water?) that makes him seem tough. He'd like to implant the idea that he's a savage cannibal type, while making sure his small group of companions know his true character.
Additionally, his main goal is to get to know the ins and outs of the rigging, particularly the vulnerable spots. At some point, he fears he might have to escape from the ship, so he may start planning out his sabotage. In particular, he's trying to figure the fewest lines that could be weakened (or cut completely) that it would take to disable the ship for the longest duration. He won't start the process, but just figuring out which lines would be best to disable would be helpful. Also, the plan would include making sure that the stores of rope could be easily jettisoned overboard, making repairs doubly hard.
Spirits are an ill omen. Perhaps we should investigate?
Strom comes up on deck, clad in a filthy apron and carrying his fishing net. With a stretch of his large frame he lets the wind carry some of the smell of the galley away from him, but he knows it's just a temporary reprieve and sighs heavily.
He listens as Cecic describes the nearby island and it's death-dealing dragon and tries not to gulp too loudly. "Amen to that Lucky." he says in an equally quiet voice. He heads over to the side to work on catching the days haul. It is a difficult morning, but finally he has enough to put together a decent stew.
Its on his way back to the depths of the ship, when he catches sight of Lucky headed to speak with little Tibbs and stops to watch. He can't help but ask, "Spirit? In the bilges?" Strom tries to keep his discomfort undetectable for the second time that day, "What sort of spirits are we talking about? Aherm."
When Lucky approaches Tibbs and asks about spirits, she shakes her head and lowers her eyes, refusing to speak. After a few moments she looks up at the foredeck, where Plugg can be seen stewing in his thoughts.
An hour after Tibbs arrival on deck, Plugg plods down the steps to the main deck. He points to each of you in turn, summoning you before him. "There seems to be somethin' stowed away in the bilge. Get down there, all of you. Take that worthless cook's mate with you. I don't want ta see your hides until you've cleaned the place out. Understand?"
Strom continues his chopping and cutting, wishing for the thousandth time that someone would come rescue him form this drudgery, or at least a breeze could find its way into the stifling galley. He wipes a drop of sweat from his nose and keeps on chopping, the sound rhythmic and sharp.