Malack stretches left and right before unleashing a belch somewhere between a roar and a thunderstorm.
Accelerated climbing hereafter
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Urk grins
Well I'll be damned! Goblins climb like monkeys on moonshine.
Mr Plugg watches the heroes begin to hoist themselves up the rigging, muscles tightening and fingers grasping coiled rope. Lorelei and Asmodia make it at a normal rate, picking and choosing their footholds with care, making it to the top.
Malack and Urk power their way through the climbing, making striding leaps and expert swings to the next tier. The sailors below begin to hoot and holler at the close race. However, the goblin's natural affinity for risky maneuvers and a near suicidal approach to life's little obstacles sees him to the top of the mast first.
Sjurd, preoccupied with her recollection of Scourge's identity, struggles to get much further than a few feet up the lines before she topples over head first and hangs from her ankle upside down. Tangled in the line she can get a good look at the deck below her and the multiple layers of dark paint that has been used to try and hide the bloodstains soaked into the wood.
Aright, y'all return to me! Plugg shouts up at them. The sails catch a sudden gust of forceful wind and expand causing the mast to groan and sway slightly. The 60 feet looks much farther down when you are at the top.
Hurry now, there is work to be had! He shouts and Master Scourge looms closer, eager to deliver punishment if he is called to do so. He runs his tongue along the bridge of his yellow teeth and eyes Sjurd like a bear stalking a tuna caught in a net.
Initially leery of trusting strangers, Malack figures he can disavow anything they say about him.
Hey while we're out of earshot of those lugs on the deck we need to chat right quick. We need to stick tight together. You ladies are gonna get better looking by the day to these scurvy mutts. You don't let yourselves be alone ya hear. We're swabbing decks now but keep your eyes open. Keep your secrets too, find me something I can swing with two hands and all the power in me back and I'll wash these decks with Plugg, Scrouge and the Captain's blood.
After his conspiratorial comments to his fellow captives, Malack turns downwards and says nice and loud:
Work doesn't sound too appealing to Malack so he takes his time going down the rigging.
Urk drops down into the crows nest and gives Malack a conspiratorial nod. "Heh, they won't know what hit em," he whispers and heads back down to the waiting Mr. Plugg.
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Asmodia would listen carefully to Malack's words, then turn to Lorelei and roll her eyes, before turning back to the warrior.
"Well, thanks for the warning, but I'm sure I can look after myself around the crew. As for getting weapons, I'd be quite amazed if we can obtain such things, at least for now."
Then, once everyone's spoken, she'd slowly work her way down the rigging.
"Malack, land or sea, men are all the same. We know how to take care of ourselves in that regard. As for washing the deck with blood, you might want to make sure the rest of the crew won't want your blood afterwards. Though I certainly wouldn't mind taking a swing at em myself for the way they shanghied us."
Master Scourge looks crestfallen when he doesn't hear the order to "commence lashes" and sniffs the air apathetically, attempting to look unimpressed at the heroes' natural ability in the nets.
Mr Plugg waits for each of them to climb back down before addressing them. He looks to Urk. Sailor, name yourself, if goblins have names worth speaking. You will be working the high rigging.
There is a slight rumbling noise, like the subtle gravely growl of a sea lion behind Scourge's ribs. He frowns and presses a palm against his gut. By Besmara's ample bosom, Kroop's cookin' remains a terrible thing even after months o' spoonin' it down. Ay Plugg! Ask these milksops if'n they can work a pan and ladle! I'll go easy on the bare back o' any sailor who can make me a meal worth singin' about.
Plugg's face remains expressionless. If you go easy on the lashes, Scourge, you may find yourself on the other end of that whip. However, your words ring true. We need someone of merit in the kitchen. He looks to the heroes. Do any of you have a knack for cooking?
Lorelei hesitantly raises her hand. "I used to help out in the tavern's kitchen when I was younger" I suppose if I go to work in the kitchen, then at least I will know for sure what I am eating. Who knows what some of the people on the ship try to pass off as food and I definitely don't want to worry about food poisoning. Or any type of poisoning for that mattter.
With a sharp salute, the goblin declares, "In the seekrit tongue of goblins, I am called *huurrghk!!*," and makes a horrible wretching sound, then spits out a huge wad of plegm overboard. "But do not try and pronounce it, your simple hooman shouty-wholes can not create the required noooance. Urk, the Greeen, at your service, sir! Who should I report to?"
How convenient, the perfect place to observe everything from.
Mr Plugg squints his left eye slightly to appraise Lorelei, but there is no recognizable lust in his gaze. At least not for the bard's flesh. The officer is envisioning the possible dishes a tavern cook can cobble together and seems satisfied with the results of his imagination.
To Lorelei- Your hand has touched the blue first and so you shall aid Ambrose Kroop in the kitchens as cook's mate. The man's about as greasy as a wet mullet and drunk half the time, but he's all we have. Keep the crew happy and they'll love you for it. Sour their stomachs or cause them to heave their lunches to the bow winds and you'll be wanting to sleep with a dagger at night most like..
To Urk- Greenskin, you will be reporting to Master Scourge on all matters regarding the rope and lines. See that no ship spots us before we spot it and you'll have your pick of crew's loot when the haul comes in.
To Asmodia- A cleric of Besmara might come in handy, but it isn't my call to make. The Captain may just as soon toss you to the 'gulls as he would promote you. He is not an especially pious man, is Captain Harrigan. When word of your calling reaches his ears he will make a decision as to your fate.
To Malack and Sjurd- You two, along with your priestess here, will be swabs and sailors. You will answer to Master Scourge...and quite possibly...Scourge's whip if your duties are slack or if you give offense to your betters. The work is hard, but you will have time to eat, sleep, gamble, purchase goods from the quartermaster and will receive a ration of rum each evening if you have done well. If not- you WILL taste the lash or worst.
With that, Mr Plugg gives them one last lingering look before returning to his duties. Master Scourge grinds his teeth from left to right in anticipation of breaking in new recruits and goes to wrangle up the other unfortunates press ganged in last night's abductions.
One of these unfortunates, an attractive female human in a tricorn hat, tight leather breeches, boots and a flowing white blouse whispers between her teeth when Scourge is our of earshot.
Pssst..hey. I think we need to talk..
Malack chuckles and blushes a bit:
Hell I wasn't gonna say nothing right away but yeah beautiful, I'd like to get to know you better too. Don't know what such a well-groomed lady such as yourself sees in this scallywag but I don't wanna lead you on none, this old dog here ain't marriage material...hmmm judging from that look yous was thinking more conspiratorily. Anyways I'm game for that too.
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Great. Stuck as a swab. Hardly work befitting a Chelaxian when surrounded by people such as these, but it's better then being thrown overboard. Just about.
After listening intently to Mr Plugg, nodding at all the right spots and appearing accepting of her role, Asmodia would turn to the attractive woman who whispered to them and casually approach her.
"You wanted to talk? Don't mind the big man, he's like this with every woman."
When the mysterious female appears, Urk sneaks behind the nearest barrel or crate, so he can listen in without being observed.
The woman takes a step towards Asmodia and smiles. When you sail the shackles you often hear a good deal of useless air from the sailors.
She tilts her chin to Malack and winks. Now if you could only focus that bluster of yours up to the sails, we'd be in Varisia by sundown!
She doesn't seem to notice Urk slip behind a barrel as she offers her hand.
I'm Quinn. Sandara Quinn. She looks over Sjurd's shoulder to see if Scourge is coming. The vile master-at-arms is yelling at one of the "new recruits" and spattering the poor man's face with spittle.
We don't have long... Quinn reaches into the lining of her corset and pulls forth a small leather roll of thieves tools, a simple dagger and a holy symbol of Besmara. I managed to sneak these out of the Quartermaster's room this morning. I imagine the wretched creature has all of your effects, but I could only take a few items. Another quick look to check on Scourge.
This is a pirates ship and they'll have some need of us. But rest assured, their hearts are black enough to see us ended grimly if they desire it. I've heard of Harrigan too, a foul man who has slain over a dozen Captains and slaughtered whole crews in his wake. I know you want a bit of trouble, and aye, so do I. But this ship is mean and her crew is deadly. Tread lightly. Let us buy some time before we make any kind of move.
Scourge's whip unfurls and he sends it arching down towards the face of the sailor he was shouting at. A bloody snake of red appears along the man's forearm as he lifts it to protect his eyes, and he falls back against the railing, grasping his bleeding limb.
And that be' but a taste! Next time, I'll bare yer' back to Desna's stars and peel you like a'grape, I will! Take an eye, sure as sure.. Scourge croons, coiling his whip back to a striking position.
Quinn's eyes narrow, but she looks away.
So, what say you all? Sandara hands over the items and listens intently.
Lorelei slowly nods after Quinn speaks. "I'm with and I'm fine with taking things a bit slow before making any kind of move. I wouldn't mind knowing which way the rest of the crew would go if any "trouble" occurs." What I'd really like is to find something nice and deadly to stick into the Officers' food. That would surely make things a lot easier for us all....
Urk hops on top of the barrel and says, "I reckon this lady here is right. We certainly aren't in any position to do anything yet, especially as they'll be expecting rebellion of us. But we shouldn't be lapdogs either, as that would only cause suspicion or contempt." His eyes move towards the thieves tools. "And I bet I can make better use of those than these other bigjobs. Maybe the dagger too." Urk nods towards Malack, "I think he'd be to eager to use it, and these ladies wouldn't properly know how. Don't seem the stabby sort. Plus, I'm a gobbo. Probably get in slightly less trouble if I get caught. They'd almost expect it of me, 'cause it's in my nature. Ain't that a fact."
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Asmodia would happily shake Sandara's hand, using the opportunity to take the offered holy symbol and quickly put it away.
"Thanks for getting this back. I'd have been most annoyed if this had just been pawned off to some fool onboard."
Nodding along to Sandara as she continues speaking, trying not to flinch too much at the sight of the sailor suffering the lash. "You're right, we should take this on a day by day basis.. and try and avoid that lash."
"I do happen to know how to use a dagger, thank you. Though since I'm to be working in the galley there's a good chance I can filch a knife of some sort from there. I don't suppose there's any chance of finding something unpleasant to add to certain people's food, is there?"
Actually as a point of inventory I actually got brass knuckles on me. I keep them someplace warm and I guess they weren't to eager to look there.
"She may speak funny, but she's right. And not just an ox, neither. It'd half to be damn near everyone 'ox' on the boat. And gobbo though I be, that sounds a bit too murdery for me. B'sides, this IS a pirate ship. They're gonna hafta arm us at some point."
"A crew that serves under the lash loves its captain not. Those few who have misplaced affection can swim with sharks when we're done. We bide our time for now but don't think for the length of a fart that Malack will live under a lash lest it be in the hands of sultry wench covered in leather. Har."
Sandara Quinn tilts her head, admiring the boldness and the heart of these new captives, but her narrow eyebrow is arched slightly and she wonders if their brashness will see them slain before they can accomplish anything.
Whatever you do, be subtle. There are places aboard the ship that the very cautious and very stealthy can move without being seen, but you have to pick the right opportunities. There are also a dozen or more lethal traps protecting officer quarters, inventory, food and plunder. Quinn looks up to see Scourge making his way back over.
Plugg was right about one thing.. She whispers, turning to look idle and not deep in conversation. This is a ship of death.
Master Scourge strides forward like a rooster with blood on his talons after putting the first group in their place. You lot! Listen up, ay! You, You and You. Grab bucket, water and lye. Ye' will be scrubbin' the deck from root t'stem until yer' hands bleed. He points to Malack, Sjurd and Asmodia. As an after thought, he leans in uncomfortably close to Asmodia, his breath the sweet rancid smell of gums perishing. If'n Besmara don't mind her lil'priesty on all hands and knees, eh?
His eyes shift to Urk and Lorelei like a spinning dagger in flight. Greenskin, ye' be untanglin' the lines and bakin' in the sun up in the crows nest. Woman, take yerself' to the kitchen and make us something fair to eat.
"Right ye are sir!" With a quick salute, Urk speeds himself up to the crows net and gets to work.
"I'm off to the galley now sir." Lorelei will take herself below deck and find the galley.
Sure thing boss straight away.
Malack will do the bare minimum. Enough to not get whipped.
The day is excruciating.
Scrubbing the decks soon leads to raw palms and blisters even to those used to hard labor. The thick soap stains fingernails an unnatural blue, stings the eyes and nostrils with its fumes and cakes the creases of your hands.
The sun is a demon lord that looks down on his kneeling servants without pity or respite. It does not take long for those not used to the sun to begin to redden and burn under its relentless heat.
The riggings are a high risk place where death is a missed handhold and the billowing wind never ceases. None of the sailors speak to Urk and eye him suspiciously as he makes his way up the lines.
All the while, Master Scourge walks the ship, snarling out commands and brandishing his whip. Thrice more are new recruits given a taste of the lash, but the heroes get nothing more than threats as long as they do their work.
And then there is Ambrose "Fishguts" Kroop. The man is, literally, stinking drunk when Lorelei enters the cluttered and dirty kitchen. Snoring heavily, Kroop mutters something about "Biscuits" and opens one red rimmed eye.. You Besmara come to take me from this hell and make me your paramour? He sniffs and rubs the stubble on his jaw.
It's poison, this ship, but don't let anyone hear you say it aloud. The hull listens, see, and the cap'n hears it all. Poison this ship is, though, rotten to the core. You'll not meet a more nasty piece of work than Cap'n Harrigan, and this crews the same, especially that Mr. Plugg. Calm as a cucumber 'till he bashes a face in with that club o'his. Never even seems to get angry as he's killin' like normal folk. Kroop reaches over to a bottle and takes a swig, swishing it around in his mouth. He spits it in a nearby cooking pot.
But they leave me alone, mostly, long as they have somethin' to eat when they wake and before they down their rum ration. If'n you're my new cook's mate, show me what you can do. There is some turtle heads in that basket and some day old drum needs scalin' and cleanin' and heatin up.
The sun is starting to set. Your first day on the Wormwood is nearly at an end.
"Not hardly. I am your new kitchen helper. Perhaps I should go ahead and get something started for dinner? You look a bit...tired."
Lorelei looks about the kitchen, taking stock of all that's in it and. Looking at the drunk in front of her, she's not too surprised that Plugg and Scourge were less then pleased with the food they had been served.
She'll see what kind of stew she can whip up with the turtle heads and whatever else she can find laying about.
Lorelei will also make frequent use of Prestidigitation to assist in cleaning things and to add some flavor right before it's time to serve it.
Urk nimbly maneuvers about the ropes and masts, occasionally pausing to do something bizarre or gross whenever he sees one of the other sailors watching him. Whenever he can spare a second he sneaks a glance around, making mental notes of who is who on the crew, and keeping a look out for anything interesting.
Ye gads, work is hard... What would my mother say?
"Hah!"
(Malack has endurance which seems like a reasonable fit for this situation)
Constitution check:
Malack not even breaking a sweat handles the hard work given to him. Keeping an eye out for Scourge and Plugg he tries to help others with their work and tells them dirty jokes about bearded prostitutes and the such. Basically just working to ingratiate himself to others. Whenever possible he's also looking for alcohol.
Speaking to no one in particular, Malack will start asking people about themselves and talking about himself, perhaps even talking to himself.
. So where y'all from? I'm from nowhere in particular myself. Grew up with simple folk and little to do. I seem to recall getting on a wagon and ending up in the service of some lord's army for quite some time it seems. Killed a lot a men as I recall. Found my way into a right nice position before I fell in love. I followed my mistress to the bottom of every bottle and wouldn't ya know it people started changing. Being all like, "Hey that Mallack is always late!" Or "hey that Malack tried to sleep with my wife. " or "Hey that Malack just pissed himself. " Yep you can go far in life but ya can't escape people's judgements. Sos I moved on and found other ways to continue my love affair. Gotta say the fresh air here ain't doin much for my memory but I do feel like I got a fresh start.
Malack will use his endurance to do extra work and hide Asmodia's exhaustion from Scourge.
Stay outta the sunlight when ya can. Here I'll get that. So as I was saying...
Malack's fortitude against the ship's hard labor is a thing of wonder. Even though it is only his first day he handles the grueling tasks with relative ease, even going so far as to aid Asmodia with her work to keep Scourge's lash at bay. However, despite his assistance, it isn't enough to keep the woman from becoming fatigued, sunburned and miserable.
Sjurd, to the surprise of the nearby crew, does a praiseworthy job herself. Her work is done with discipline and order, a strange duality to Malack's work which is spearheaded by brute force and sheer determination.
High above, Urk's work in the lines makes several of the other sailors begin to admire the goblin's tenacity and skill and they begin to come up with nicknames for their new mascot. Oy, lets call 'em lightfoot as he moves so fast! Says one. Nar, hows about green-monkey as he climbs like a monkey...well, and he be'green. Says another. A third quips- That might be a right bit confusin'as green can also mean new and untrained, but that not be the case here. They begin to argue amongst themselves.
Tired, sore and worn down, the entire crew of swabs and deck hands settle down when the fading sun looming closer to the horizon. Dinner is served, a pleasing meal crafted by Lorelei, and the pleasant taste seems to lift their spirits. Rum rations are passed around, a single mug each, and there seems to be a sense of comradery that wasn't apparent earlier. One of the sailors even brings Asmodia her rum when he sees how tired she is- Here y'are Mar'am. Thought you could use a drink o' something hard and sweet, did I. No follower of Besmara need go without a drink here.
Sandara Quinn finds a seat on a barrel near the group, balancing a plate on her knee, and she looks over to the heroes. Well, you all are still alive. That's a right good bit of news.
"Yes, I am quite pleased to find myself still alive as well."
Urk hobbles up to the group on his sore, stiff legs and chirps, "I 'ad no doubts that I woould be amayzin. 'Cause I am." Then he plops down exhaustedly and devours his meal.
"Well call me halfling, this is thee best tastin' turtle heads I've ever 'ad. Me compliments to ya," and winks at Lorelei.
Malack drinks his rum quickly, moves to another point in the serving line and asks for some rum.
Bluff
Assuming this tactic fails Malack's brow will furrow and he says, " Come on now that bit of rum wouldn't put a baby to sleep. "
Diplomacy
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Thanking the sailor for the drink, Asmodia would try to appear fine, even though she felt utterly exhausted after the hard days work, the sun starting to tan her pale skin.
"Please, call me Asmodia. Formality doesn't befit a cleric of Besmara, after all."
Taking a sip of the strong rum, a thought would occur, and she'd ask the sailor who gave her the rum a question.
"Say, you don't happen to know where the Quartermaster's room is? I could do with getting some of my personal items back.."