"Wouldn't have been more efficient to lock up the rum, and keep the extra labor for work on the ship?"Barnacle mumbles to himself after the corpse is hauled back in.
This ship seems to suffer from a lack of leadership...
Noticing the crewman wave Drahzar over, he follows. Mostly out of a lack of anything else to do.
"I have your back , fellow captive. If you need my help..."
He whispers to Drahzar.
I share a worried, silent glance with my fellow captives. Clearly, a foot wrong could be fatal.
But it's hard to know who to trust. No wonder Kroop drinks...
My fellow captives, at least, can't be involved in anything aboard - and fortunately, at least some of them seem to be on deck...
"It seems like we are in that kind of place my wooden friend."
As Magpie is murdered most foully Kree fights the urge to scream.
What this ship? Wormwood? Where I hear that name before?
[using Ilizmagorti Native trait]
Kree sees the woman who was whispering with Calloran earlier motion him over. With disgust writhing in her innards she makes her way over too, trying not to actually make eye contact with anyone.
@Kree-you know nothing concerning the Wormwood.
As the night's entertainment begins Quinn merges from the shadows and motions you over to a secluded corner of the deck. Your fellow press-gangees are playing a game of cards and dice.
I unfold myself from my position. There seem to be quite a few of the press-ganged gathered in a corner of the deck, playing cards and dice. It might be frowned on aboard a regular ship, but I can't see this pirate crew caring. I slide over to join them.
"What's the stake?" I ask. "I don't know about any of you, but I've nothing but the clothes on my back."
Calloran heads over to where Quinn is, but says nothing, unsure of her plans.
Glancing down at his own unclothed form, Barnacle rumbles a rattily, gravelly laugh.
" I don't even appear to have that. "
It seems he is smiling, but really, who can tell....
As you sit besides Quinn and the others you see some items on the deck, cleverly concealed by the gambling swabs...
Sandara takes them up one by one, I selected what I thought to be most important, although I cannot explain what this is... Some kind of wand? As she asks the question Quinn holds up a strange, wooden device that looks like a thick wand with a hole in it and a strange handle...
Sandara then reveals a book from the pile, it looks innocuous to most...
your spellbook
Last and seemingly least Sandara holds up a small pouch which seems to spell of strange herbs and so forth...
This is a spell component pouch.
With a mournful look Quinn speaks, afraid this is all I could convince Grok that was "cursed" by Queen Bes. Anyway time to meet your new mates...
With a motion of her hand Quinn indicates the halfing swab, this is Rosie Cusswell, she's a good hand with an axe and a fair bit stronger then most on this bloody ship.
That's Cog, our local reverent of the Keeper (http://pfseconddarkness.wdfiles.com/local--files/crimson-cogward/Crimson%2 0Cogward.png).
That fop (http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iRcABjBU-DY/Ut3FLtN56iI/AAAAAAAAAfo/sEOkXNEf-bI/ s1600/gnome+pirate.png) is Conchobar fresh of the boat from Zilargo...
Quinn seems to mutter questionably, whats a Zilargo?
Thats everyone, want some rum?
"Thanks," I say quietly. "Is it permitted, to drink now?" I ask. "I'm frightened of getting keel-hauled. Discipline seems stricter than I'd have expected of a pirate, though no less brutal."
Calloran eyes the wooden wand thing suspiciously.
vs DC 15
Barnacle gathers the book and pouch to himself. Strapping on the belt and pouch, he wonders where he will keep his spellbook.
" I also would like to know what a 'Zilargo ' is? May I examine the wand? I might be able to tell what it is.."
Sitting down with the others he casts a quick cantrip and examines the device.
Quinn blushes slightly as Barnacle hears of Zilargo and speaks to Torviir...
Wasn't the rum that got Magpie dead, if he had stolen from the lockers it would have been the same fate...
Quinn hands Torviir a bottle of rum and Conchobar pipes in as he hears of your ignorance...
Or more accurately of Quinn's ignorance...
The gnome's voice is like that of an annoying, enthusiastic and educated fop. Zilargo is the homeland of all gnomes my lady Quinn, it's a wondrous place of pies, academies and illusionists!
Quinn looks at Conchobar blankly as she holds the strange wand like object in her left hand...
"The last time I drank incautiously, I wound up shanghaied aboard a brutal pirate ship," I smile in bitter regret. "Welcome aboard, I suppose," I continue, taking a swift slug of the rum. Brutally sharp, it burns its way down my throat. "Whew," I cough, "it's got a kick to it."
I pause, for a moment, then pass the bottle on.
"So what's your story?" I ask, the question broadly directed to my new compatriots and unexpected shipmates.
Taking the rum as it is passed to him, Barnacle looks at it quizzically, and shrugging passes it on.
" Alcohol dehydrates me."
He stares at Ireariina for a moment, then answers..
" I was just trying to find my place...Then they captured me. Oddly enough, I would have come for the asking..."
"Oddly enough I was looking for work, though I would prefer to still have my own weapons."
"Ah, thought that looked familiar... little more beat-up than when I last had it." Calloran says, taking the strange wand. "I'll be needing some powder and shot for this, though. I can use it without, but only a few times." As he touches the chamber, a tiny spark is seen. He tucks the pistol into his belt under a wide sash.
Kree watches the assembled folk with dull interest. None of them appear to be food yet, and the smell pf the liquor makes her nose burn and lip curl.
"Yam Kree. Kreequi Kaa. I lived in Ilizmagorti all my life, but nevah seen this mob afore. Want my sword back. 'N my stuff. An' maybe to eat one or two of the fat ones." Kree lazily eyes the pirates as they stroll around the ship undertaking nautical tasks. She appreciates their shipboard gait, but little else...
Turning back to Quinn et al she sits on her haunches, rubs her hands together, smiles, yawns and asks:
"Where this boat headed to? Any idea"
" I found the last weapons I had... When needed I will find more..."
I'm am sure they have our gear somewhere on this ship. Patience will win out I believe...
"I'm in fair shape," I say, "and it's not like I was doing anything else with my time, I suppose. Kroop seems a kindly kind of drunk." I pause. "Can I call on one of you for help if he gets too inebriated?"
Kree struggles to comprehend all the Drow's syllables. She smiles foully.
"Sure, but I'm not helping you eat him. If he has that poison in him. Kree no eat - he's all yours..."
"Yes, there should have been something akin to a small barrel, but metal... i need that. All my stuff is inside. At least i doubt they got in there, most of my stuff is useless to others."
Quinn speaks, her voice worried.
Don't rightfully know where this ship is heading mates, probably to plunder. As for my help not sure if I would be any use to you or be able to help you for that matter, we will be swabbing the deck all day.
As for the rest of your stuff Grok has it in her armory, not sure how you can get it but Grok seems to have a fear of spooks and the like. Convinced her that good ol Bes had cursed some of my stuff and some of yours but that lie could only go so far.
Conchobar then pipes up, he seems to jump up and down like a little puppy... An annoying puppy.
I'll help you mam, i'll help you!.
Conchobar is entranced by something... You suspect your "apples".
I smile vaguely at Conchobar, not quite certain why he's being so helpful - but glad of it, nonetheless. "Thanks," I say, "what did you have in mind?"
Kree smiles, her grin twisted and head held lopsided. She blinks hard before nudging Ire.
"I think he...likes you!"
"Oh," I say, quietly. "That is, I'm flattered, but..." I trail off with a small smile, "I wouldn't want to lead you on at all," I say, as gently as possible. "Thanks," I whisper to Kree, under my breath.
Diplomacy, letting him down gently
Barnacle looks back and forth between Ire, Kree and Conchobar..
A perplexed look on his face...
"?"
The gnome takes your put down well Torviir but he still looks like a sad puppy...
"So, who is this person i must speak to about my belongings? If it stays separate from me for more than a day, something bad will happen to it and things in its vicinity."
Kree sniffs suddenly at the mention of "bad", "happen" and "vicinity". She frowns, teeth bared slightly.
"What you mean Callor-ran? How bad? Ship-sized bad? Capsize?"
"Hey, no," I comfort Conchobar. "I just don't know you very well," I explain. "I... the last time I let someone try to get close, he ended up dead and I found myself exiled," I paused, "and abducted by pirates. So I'm a little..."
The gnome responds with a gleeful burst of energy, Point me to them my lady I shall kill them!... He is serious.
Sandara speaks, you want you gear back your going to have to bluff Grok or worse yet seduce her... At the word "seduce" Sandara goes pale...
"Hah, I should be so lucky that this tub would capsize. I guess I have to deal with Grok, unless some other plans are in the works."
"That sounds like an option almost as objectionable as not having my weapons back"
" Capsizing the ship would bring little discomfort to me, but I find your type may have difficulty breathing...I would not know how to seduce anyone.....Maybe we should just 'remove' this Grok?"
Sandara speaks, you want you gear back your going to have to bluff Grok or worse yet seduce her... At the word "seduce" Sandara goes pale...
"Aha," I half-laugh. "I don't think my new friend here would like that very much," I smile. "I suppose I've no objection to a half-truth here or there though," I continue.
The gnome responds with a gleeful burst of energy, Point me to them my lady I shall kill them!... He is serious.
"I'd rather you didn't," I say, cheerfully ruffling his hair. "I don't want any more deaths on my concious," I explain. Likely, he thinks I mean theirs, but, realistically, even a few noble drow of the Obsidian City would wipe the floor with a single gnomish pirate...
The gnome looks at you with big, sorrowful eyes Torviir. The feather in his hat seems to drip noticeably...
Sandara then speaks, best to wait before going to speak with Grok. You might wanna learn the ropes around here and perhaps get some gold lining your pockets. Grok likes gold, she's a true pirate when it comes to the gold coin...
Kree nods at Sandara's words.
"Quinn speaks wise words. Let us either dispatch this Grok as Barnacle suggests, or wait...Unless Grok likes ragged pirates with no gold but much energy..." Kree trails off suggestively...
"so what will line my pockets within the next few hours? I have precious little time before loss occurs."
"And we get gold by gambling with you, I suppose?" I ask. "Against... unpleasant duties and whatnot?"
It sounds just like a lure to draw inexperienced, shanghai'd crewmembers out of their depth and into a dice game...
Sense Motive
she isn't being dishonest.
Quinn looks at you and then laughs, honey I don't got nothing but a copper on me. If your looking to gamble it is either bilge duty or ye need gold. Of course you could try those "drow wiles" on the other crew mates, some of them would be dumb enough to fall for it...
Quinn then turns to Calloran, no point hon. Groks already closed shop and is drunk, real drunk...
Quinn laughs at the idea of "removing" Grok, you lot are real funny. If Grok gets removed a witch hunt is going to start, whats worse though is that someone like Scourge could be put in charge... That would be a nightmare...
"Hmm, then perhaps a bit of a key snatch is needed."
" Who is this Scourge person, and why would it be worse than the Grok?"
Barnacle says looking at the others for answers..
" And why would Bilge duty be a gambling piece? Is it a much sought after job?"
Barnacle seems to be wracking his brain trying to decipher some of what the others are saying.
It seems, some things are harder to 'remember' than others...
Kiss raises his head from where it's draped about my collarbone, stretches towards Quinn and hisses, with a definite hint of fang. With a gentle fingertip, I coil him back around my neck, stroking his head to settle him. "Kiss doesn't much like what you're suggesting," I say. "I don't like it much either." I pause. "Besides, it doesn't sound as if we need to lie. Bad things will happen if Calloran doesn't retrieve his... wand?... and my bits-and-pieces have brought me nothing but suffering." I pause, petting Kiss's head. "Haven't they sweetness?"
"I think we should go and see Grok, drunk or not."
Kree sniffs before bluntly interjecting with characteristic aplomb. "Ease up Ire. San-Quinn only suggests that what you suggest - see Grok - may not be a good idea. She speaks from experience, not fear." Here the shifter's grin emerges, a cunning, quickly sharp line of teeth.
"As for wiles. Maybe other crew like Kree. Maybe not. But they might like Ire. No harm in saying so." Kree's smile erupts into a shoulder-shaking self-satisfied grimace/laugh. She is obviously proud of her assertion.
Well, Calloran will be looking for an opportunity to access passed-out Grok or severely-drunk Grok for a chance at snatching the key to the storage. He is trained in sleight of hand, just waiting for the penalties on wisdom that come from heavy drinking to be imposed on his enemy.