That night, the crew's displeasure at their extremely lackluster meal manifests in Eleuterio and Fishguts both taking their turns before the mast, with each receiving three rope bashes . Other than Chum's weariness, however, none of the rest of you suffer any ill effects from your work or the performance of it.
Once the Bloody Hour and the meal are done, Mr. Plugg goes belowdecks briefly, reappearing with the chained man from the hold, still bound and lead as though he were a leashed dog by the first mate. Staring across the deck, Plugg calls out to the four of you, "Ho there! You four!" His eyes glitter with ill-concealed malice. Across the deck, Sandara looks up with clear concern. "Which of you four would care for a chance to take on the ship's champion in bare-knuckle brawling? Just a bit of sport, of course, and no tricks - no magic, no weapons. Here, to make it interesting," Plugg produces a coin puse from a pouch on his belt, "a hundred gold on the Owlbear here. Now, who's it gonna be?"
Eleuterio grimaces as Plugg calls us out, and rubs his back where the knotted rope had landed. He glances at his companions, and gives them a simple nod. "Get Sandara at the ready. Maybe she'll be able to scrape up what's left of me on the deck."
He stands to his full height, and approaches. "I'll fight your Owlbear, Plugg. To the terms of your challenge - no magic and no weapons, I have no quarrel with this. What of armor?" Eleuterio stalled for time as he peered into the Owlbear's soul.
Detect Evil directed in the Owlbear's area, once I'm close enough.
I mused.
My rather deserved dressing-down by the young cabin girl got me to thinking. Being just a lowly rigger upon a pirate vessel is an inauspicious start to my pirate career, and press-ganged, at that! Certainly not one worthy of the offspring of the great Pirate de Poisson.
My stout friend, Eleuterio, took up the challenge of this rather monstrous Owlbear fellow immediately, just as I had heard Mister Plugg throw down the gauntlet, so to speak. Unfortunately, Mr. Reis had just been the subject of a number of rope bashes, and already his eye was swelling.
I had to step up. I refused to let Mister Plugg watch as this sack of beef pummeled my comrade. He was a quite the intimidating fellow, though the feathers did diminish some of the menace. I had to hope that by being quick on my feet, I would be able to avoid the worst of his blows.
I put my hand on Mr. Reis' shoulder, and said, Now see here. You've already been bashed about the head, my good man. Why not let me take up the bet? I've yet to show these lads how a true Poisson fights!
"Well now, as you can see, old Owlbear here's not wearing any armor - I think it's only fair that you match him," Mr. Plugg calls back with a sneer. "No armor! Just human fists against human flesh!"
Eleuterio glances back at Artevious, and nods after a time. "Another day I might have had words for you, but not tonight. You're right. You're in much better condition to fight Owlbear than I am. Just...be careful. There's something about Plugg's glee that doesn't sit well with me."
Eleuterio leaned closer to whisper to Artevious. "And I don't know much about the man, but I cannot sense any evil in Owlbear's soul. He may be too simple to understand such morals, or another innocent to suffer for Plugg's amusement. I know I can count on you to show him mercy."
The paladin gingerly takes his seat to watch the fight. I hope Artevious knows what he's getting into. Who knows - maybe this will knock some sense into him.
Quickly, sailors gather around to watch the battle as Artevious prepares himself for the fight.
I sized up my opponent, but all I could see was his size. However, I took Eleuterio's words to heart, and while the big man might not be evil in his heart, there might be tricks to come. Thusly, as I divested myself of my armor, I decided to keep my pistol with me, hidden in the folds of my tunic.
I squared myself against Owlbear and put up my fists, preparing to do battle. This was it; all eyes were upon me. Time to acquit myself in true Poisson style!
I moved forward, noting the sluggish pace of Owlbear, and started with a quick jab.
My adrenaline was pumping furiously, and my initial strike had everything behind it. A meaty "thwack" resounded amongst the rigging as I connected with Owlbear. I readied myself for his retaliation.
Owlbear's head rocks back from Artevious' first blow, and he shouts in pain, but he wastes little time in responding with a haymaker swing of his own.
Fortunately for Artevious, though, the swing is wild, and the would-be pirate nimbly dodges out of the way.
All around, the pirates shout and cheer - many for Owlbear, but those among the crew you've managed to make yourselves on good terms with holler and clap for Artevious instead. The number of your supporters seems to make Mr. Plugg uncomfortable.
I had thus far remained unscathed. The massive blow was slow enough for me to evade, and he left a nice chance for me to counter-attack.
I struck at his exposed flank, driving a shot into his ribcage. I hoped this would slow him down even further, for I disliked the thought of taking even a glancing blow from one of his punches.
Owlbear howls in pain as Artevious lands another heavy blow. As the ship rolls in the ocean, a belaying pin tumbles across the deck to land near Owlbear's feet - the bigger man's eye falls on it, and he dives toward it to scoop it up, holding it like a club as he turns back toward Artevious.
Aah, yes, the plot thickened. Just as I seemed to be maintaining the upper hand -- my speed versus Owlbear's brawn -- a belaying pin rolled into his grasp. Owlbear was now armed, using the pin as a club.
My mind whirled. The odds were decidedly in Owlbear's favor. He could keep me at bay with that stick and thwack me if I tried to close with him. What would my father do? That's right -- use Panache!
Keeping the distance between us, I drew my pistol and took aim, not at Owlbear but at his weapon.
One other thing: it seems counter-intuitive that I have to add my Strength to this ranged disarm trick, when it clearly should be Dex. Don't suppose you could house rule that?
As the thundrous retort of my pistol reverberated throughout the ship, I decided I had everyone's attention.
Holding my pistol high, I announced, All right, you piratey scallawags, listen up! This is my HAND CANNON! An Alkenstar original. The Order of Pistoleers' top of the line. This sweet baby was made in the Mana Wastes. It has a mother-of-pearl handle, dwarven-forged steel and a hair trigger. That's right: shop near, shop far, shop Alkenstar.
YOU GOT THAT?
Owlbear cries out in surprise and momentary terror as the bullet rips the club out of his hand and sends it flying into the ocean; for a second he seems to reconsider the entire situation, but with a fearful glance toward Plugg he wades in again, swinging his massive fist once more. All around, the sailors stare in shock at the smoking pistol, as though Artevious had just revealed a hidden deformity or some kind of mystical power. Atop the forecastle, Captain Harrigan looks up from a discussion with the pilot and raises a considering eyebrow.
Chum leans in and whispers to any of the four that are near as well as any allies.
Owlbear came at me again, after further encouragement by Mr. Plugg. It still appeared he was more afraid of him than me, despite the demonstration of my pistol. He hesitated, thankfully, and I was able to step cleanly aside and avoid his swing once more.
I switched my pistol to my off-hand, balled up my fist and jabbed at him again.
This time I was unable to connect, but still felt the need to offer him quarter. Now see here! I'll give you a chance to yield, my good man. You've fought bravely, but the bout is mine!
Owlbear frowns, hesitating, but shakes his head and then takes another swing.
Perhaps Artevious should not have paused, because the larger man has no trouble landing that blow.
My oversized opponent hit hard. I still needed to finish this fight. I put another fist to his face, hoping to end it now.
"Aye, I saw it as well, Master Chum. Our boy is filled with surprises."
"COME ON, POISSON!" Eleuterio shouted from the circle. While the paladin wasn't in fighting shape, perhaps he could be of some small aid by getting the crowd on his side.
While Artevious' blow is not enough to finish his opponent, it seems to be enough to knock the last of his will to fight out of him. "No, no, no!" cries Owlbear as he turns to flee the circle, but a furious Plugg, aided by several of his cronies, shoves him back into the ring, hurling curses and abuse at him all the while. The larger man turns a terrified gaze on Artevious while a disgusted Plugg shouts, "Finish him and let's have done with this pustulent whore of a bout!"
My eyes flicked between Owlbear and Plugg, viewing the terror on one's face and the disgust on the other's. I doubted this fight went the way Mr. Plugg had expected. I suppose it officially went to me the instant Owlbear took up the club, but I was sure such technicalities would be lost on the one with five score coin riding on the fight.
I supposed the gold would be forfeit, but I little liked the idea of pummeling a defeated foe into unconsciousness just for a little profit. With a lingering glance at Mr. Plugg, I turned to Owlbear and said to the crowd, He's yielded, and I accept. It was a good fight, Mr. Owlbear; my hat's off to you, sir.
Chum, agreeing with the flamboyant pugilist's tactic, steps forward to congratulate him and clap him on the back, looking at the allies in the crowd to step forward and do the same.
"Well fought, most impressive!"
Eleuterio grins as he witnesses how thoroughly Artevious has turned around Plugg's gambit. He too comes forward to congratulate his compatriot's victory, giving the man a nod of his head as he claps him on the back. "A good show, Master Poisson, and one I doubt old Plugg will soon forget."
Plugg looks distinctly displeased by the turn of events, snatching up the gold with extremely bad grace, but as the circle of sailors begins to break up and turn to its usual affairs for the night before bedding down, Owlbear lumbers closer to Artevious, studying him with an unaccustomed seriousness. "Thank you," he rumbles, then delivers a bone-crushing hug to the cavalier before heading belowdecks once more.
I accepted the accolades from my friends and mates with aplomb. When the Owlbear embraced me, I suddenly became very thankful that he hadn't tried a wrestling match. But it seemed my act of mercy may have put me on his good side.
I thanked those stalwart lads who had cheered for me, graciously bowed to the ladies who showed my favor, and even -- in a moment of pure elation from my victory, I assure you -- dared a deep and lingering kiss with Sandara.
I then retired to a quiet spot on the ship to clean, inspect, and reload my pistol. It had just occurred to me that it hadn't been fired in some time until today. A misfire would have been disastrous, indeed. So I took my time to oil each component and ensure it was in good order.
I take a moment to ensure no one is paying much attention, and head above-deck to take a closer look at the ship's ballistae, hoping to get an insight into the gunners' preferences and training, or see if anything appears out of place.
"Master Poisson," Eleuterio said. "I believe there are some sails to be mended on this ship, with regards to a certain gnomish gentleman. I think it might be possible to calm the man down, especially after your victory this evening. If you'll help me collect our allies, I'm sure they can help convince him that any offense he may have taken from your first meeting was purely unintentional. Let us meet back here in half an hour, and parley with the man."
After a short time, Eleuterio and Artevious have gathered a small army of the Wormwood's crew, and they collectively head towards the gnome. "Master Shortstone," the paladin called out as he approached. "Might I have a moment of your time, if you please?"
Sense Motive: or 15, if I can take 10.
Despite the Shackles' balmy weather, Eleuterio can feel the ice in the gnome's veins as he approaches. Looks as though I've got my work cut out for me...
The paladin clears his throat and begins to speak. "I understand that there is some ire between yourself and Master Poisson here. I must admit, when I first met him myself, I could scarcely believe his...unique view on our shared predicament aboard the Wormwood. But I've seen him to be an able sailor, and after tonight, few can say that he is a skilled warrior. All gathered here," Eleuterio gestures to those he has brought with him, "can attest to his good nature. There is more to him than either of our first assessments could have guessed. I am not asking you to wipe the slate clean - only that you take another deeper look."
Eleuterio turns to Artevious. "Master Poisson, would you care to add anything?"
After Artevious makes his apology, and the others have their say, Eleuterio picks up where the musketeer left off. "You see, Master Shortstone, Artevious does regret getting off on the wrong foot. You must ask yourself - what have I missed that all these other crewmen have seen? Might we start again, letting this be our first meeting? The Wormwood is not a large ship - it would be easier for everyone if the bad blood between us all could be dabbed away."
"What do you say, Master Shortstone?"
Eleuterio turns to Artevious. "Master Poisson, would you care to add anything?"
I could scarcely believe the grand show of support my new friends were willing to put on for my behalf, all to try to bring around Mssr. Shortstone. I could have beamed, but certainly such a raw showing of emotion was unbecoming of a fierce pirate. Therefore, I simply nodded my head to my supporters and gave a deferential bow to the gnome.
Ahem. In the wake of my pugilistic victory, I would hope you will listen to these lads. I simply wish to say that I bear you no ill will, despite your differing taste in literature. Certainly, as we are fellow crewmen and mates here aboard the Wormwood, it would be advisable to come to an accord. We all are here together on one ship, after all, beset on all sides by the briny depths, with who-knows-what lurking beyond the horizon. Only a strong crew, who trusts and respects each other, can hope to overcome the challenges the next change in tide will bring.
And that is something I am willing to extend to you, my good Shortstone. I respect you. I respect your choice in headwear. I respect your most noble mustache. And I would hope that I have shown that I am deserving of your respect and trust as well.
Shortstone looks at Artevious, stroking the mustache and adjusting the hat that the cavalier had mentioned, then glances around at the rest of the entourage de Poisson and Eleuterio have assembled as well. His gaze lingers on Sandara and Barefoot Samms, and then particularly long on Rosie (who blushes and looks away, her expression a mix of embarrassment and anger, though with undercurrents of another emotion that are harder to read), before looking up at Eleuterio once again. "You've made a fine case, sirrah," the gnome acknowledges at last. "You're a gifted storyteller, master de Poisson, and I'd be a fool not to acknowledge it - and none have ever known Conchobar Shortstone to be a fool. However, I'll stake a claim to a similar gift of my own, and perhaps I've a trick or two to show you. So here is my proposal, my good man. Let us work in tandem when next you go to spin your yarns. I can add my own... refinements... to your raw materials, and together we'll show these sea-bitten ragamuffins a show they'll not deserve, but will never forget. What say you?"
I say jolly good! I cheered. What could be better, than the daring exploits of the infamous pirate Ricardo de Poisson with the pomp and flourish of the inestimable Conchobar Shortstone! I offered my hand for a firm shake.
Shortstone eyes the hand for a moment, but finally takes it, nodding. "Quite so, quite so," he replies evenly.
When you all rise the following day, you discover a thick line of clouds marring the eastern horizon, and although they kick up a stiff wind, sending the Wormwood all but flying through the waves, it is not yet noon when the first heavy, fat raindrops begin to fall.
Artevious is sent to work the mainsail , while Chum has to work in the bilges again and Evril is set to making repairs around the deck .
Below, Eleuterio learns from Caulky Tarroon that Captain Harrigan wants a special meal tonight, and he must slaughter one of the small number of hogs kept on board for just such an occasion . Fortunately, Fishguts seems to be functional today, and is able to take over the preparations once the Iomedaen completes his work.
He will work diligently in the bilges, taking 10 for the Strength check with the +4 bonus for a 14. He will take 10 for the Constitution check for a 12.
Chum disappears into the bowels of the ship and works his tail off. When he emerges at the end of the day, he looks worn, but not nearly as bad as he has some days.
The drops of rain had me working rapidly to finish the mainsail duties quickly so I could pop off to Grok's shop for a lock to ensure my novels and gunpowder were high and dry during inclement weather.
Also, does Grok have any other items of interest?
Furthermore, I needed to keep an eye out for Evril and ensure his success at his duties so he would not fall under the lash himself. It had appeared that in my distraction, I left a few of my duties undone, and could only hope that my mate Barefoot Samms covered for my inattention, otherwise I might find myself replacing Evril during the bloody hour.
"I've got some good-quality weapons, some potions - magic ones, real too, none of that snake-oil stuff - and some magic scrolls too, if you're into that sort of thing," Grok tells you when you ask. "Some bottles of acid and alchemists' fire, some armor, and a whole lot of random crap I've picked up from the gods-only-know-where." She makes a warding sign with her free hand as she says that last bit. "Any of that catch your interest, sailor, or are you here to look at the real goods?" she leers.
The Wormwood's quartermaster was as forward as ever. I tipped my head in a polite bow and took my hat off, holding it over my heart. Milady, your goods are as transfixing as ever. I hurriedly changed the subject. Yet I had heard of enchanted oils that, when rubbed on one's weapon, will enhance its accuracy and its sting when it strikes. I wonder if you have any such product?
When Artevious returns above decks, he finds himself face to face with the red-haired Besmaran cleric he so thoroughly kissed the evening before in celebration. "De Poisson," she says, hand resting lightly on her rapier. "Last night was fun. Extremely fun. But do it again without asking first, and I'll stitch your lips into the mainsail and give the rest to Fishguts' hogs." She smiles, winks, and gives the cavalier a quick peck on the cheek before heading back to her work.
Eleuterio went down into the hold with his tools. He heard his quarry long before he smelt it - life aboard a ship made for unpleasant odors everywhere, and these masked the smell of the hogs right about the time he started hearing their grunts and squeals. He had a few items with him - a saw, a cleaver, and, most importantly, a knife to make the cut clean and quick. He'd spent an hour reading that cookbook, and studying its diagrams on how to cut the meat from its bones. Was it all enough, though?
I don't think I want to screw this one up, so I'll take 10 on it. That'll give me a 12 Profession (cook).
Eleuterio finds the matter is much messier than the clean charts and descriptions in the book made the process seem, but he is no stranger to blood and the use of a sharp knife, and produces several usable cuts of meat at the end of the process.