|Dread Captain Devon|
|1 person marked this as a favorite.|
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!
The words seem overly loud. You awaken to the smell of salt and spray. Your head pounds from the merriment, noise and chaos of the Formidably Maid, the tavern of your revels...was it last night? Your head aches with the dull pain, like an oar was smashed on your head and the ringing has not quite stopped in your ears. Your mouth tastes of bitter and sweet all mixed together. The room sways. Is that the room itself or an after effect of the spicy food and spiced rum? It was rowdy night, even for Port Peril...
Don't make me fetch the boys to drag yah before the Cap'n. Unceremonious type o way to start your career on the Wormwood...
The harsh words come from a man in the doorway. Dirty light, some lantern, some sun, mix just enough to see a tall man with a black braided beard, long black coat, heavy boots and a menacing whip in his his hands. The red tone of his bandana threatens to be the only true color on his person as even his fingernails feature black paint of some kid. See HERE for a reference
You note that you are clothed but seem to be lacking you equipment. In turn each of you note that you have been roughly handled but seem to be intact.
The man menaces at you lazily with his whip indicating you are to rise and follow. He leaves little to the imagination as to what happens next if you fail to comply...
Let me know if you plan to resist or follow.
Mel hawks and spits to rid her mouth off the taste off spiced rum that still lingers there.She says nothing at the moment but follows the man who she judges to be a bosun at least.Until she knows more off her situation she'll just play along with whatever is happening.She glances at the other people there trying to weigh them up.
Mel looks like a boy of 13-14 years off age..Dirty blonde hair,lithe build, Shabby but clean seamans clothing,and a battered tricorne.
Hassan al-Quorri (and a pleasure it is to meet all of you, my excellent good friends, may the gods shine seven times seven blessings upon all of your heads) groans slightly, and rises to his feet unsteadily. He mutters to himself in the language of the east:
He falls in line with the others, wobbling slightly as he walks.
Ajani slowly gets to his feet, making a quiet whimpering sound as he rubs the back of his head. His long furry tail whips back and forth slightly, seeming to have a momentary mind of its own, before the Vanara's head clears enough for him to wrap it loosely around his waist.
He looks to the others who are in the room with him, noting that they are all humans. He's heard of this press-ganging thing before, in the taverns in Senghor, but he never considered he'd be a victim of it. Seeing the first two fall in line at the word of the pirate brandishing the whip, he falls in line with them. He doesn't speak to any of them, seeming to only acknowledge their mutual predicament, most of his attention devoted to taking in their surroundings.
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
Quillin moans loudly and slowly sits up rubbing his hands through the turf of his turquoise dreadlocks. He is at first relieved to sense Smudge is well and then very annoyed to find his best hat missing.
Noticing the ready whip, he gives a fake smile and staggers to his feet.
Not entirely sure of the rules regarding attempted Bluffs, but I assume Sense Motive is the appropriate check here. If Perception would be better, I'll re-roll it.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
Again, making the assumption that beating Mel's 17 means I succeeded and noticed the stare. If not, let me know and I'll ret-con the post. Thanks!
Ajani, while taking in his surroundings, notices the short, blue-eyed and blond-haired human walking nearby, apparently also press-ganged into working on this ship...what did the whip-wielding human call it? The Wormwood? Strange name for a vessel...certainly not one that filled him with confidence of the ship's seaworthiness. Anyway...he couldn't help but suppress a slight grin at the wide-eyed reaction he got from what, to him, appeared to be a youthful teenage boy.
His tail slips from about his waist, giving a back-and-forth flick that leaves Mel with the distinct impression that she was just waved at.
|Bartolomeo da Cofresi|
Bart groans deeply; a deep baritone sound. His head feels like an orc decided to turn it into a war-drum. He reaches a hand to the back of his head, feeling the matted tufts of hair clinging to his scalp with what could only be thick clumps of his own blood. Damnable son-of-a-tavern-wench. Should have known he would bring friends. Bart grins to himself as the thought passes through his mind. He hadn't exactly planned on fighting fair either. At the thought he sat up and felt the familiar weight of his knuckles in his pocket. At least that rotten sot got to kiss 'em goodnight before I got laid out. It was only then that he heard the continued yelling.
"A'right, a'right a'ready," Bart grumbles as he stands, the volume of the threats causing the orc in his head to resume its beat. Squinting his eyes and massaging his temples, Bart moves into line with the others, barely registering his new co-workers.
|Bartolomeo da Cofresi|
Bart glares darkly at the gnome, and his heavy brow furrows. I may not be the nicest guy in Garund, but there's no need to try to get someone whipped for your own entertainment. Besides that, the man with the whip doesn't look like someone Bart wanted to be friends with. He might even be dead. Bart eyes the body the gnome mentioned.
Heal to be able to tell the condition of the body: 1d20 ⇒ 5
Growling his displeasure, Fjori surges up from the floor, making a grab for the man with the whip.
I know, a little melodramatic, but he is a Nord, and was awakened rather rudely. Should I even roll an initiative, or do I just get pummelled..lol
Attack-Grapple: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Ajani seems momentarily taken aback, but quickly follows suit with Melissa, moving to the side to stand with her. "Foolish human...he only draws more of our captor's attention to himself. Though I am hopeful that it will keep their eyes off of us." he whispers to the young blonde, frowning as he simply waits for the scuffle to end. His eyes are keenly focused on it, though, paying close attention to the movements and reactions of Fjori and their captor.
|Bartolomeo da Cofresi|
Seeing the large northman make a grab for the whip-wielder, Bart does something rash. I might regret this... He lunges for the big man and attempts to pull him off the comparatively smaller man. Hoping to not actually have to wrestle with the beast, Bart leans forward and whispers in his ear, "Not now, friend, this isn't the time or place fer that."
"Uh..." Mel recovers from her surprise that the ape can talk and whispers back "It's a regional thing..they come from way up north where they have snow all year round..you know what snow is don't you? Anyway they tell me it's ahard land and it breeds hard men..we see a lot off them in Riddleport..that's where I'm from..it's way up north too but not as far as that guy's home""
|Dread Captain Devon|
Jeez guys way to make this complicated ;-) In the interest of moving things along I am going to roll a couple of things for this encounter for narrative ease.
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19
1d100 ⇒ 79 25 or less for least likely issue.
There is a pregnant pause as gnome waves his chin at the unconscious Nord. Most of the cabin is quiet but the man with the whip cocks an eyebrow at the gnome while bringing the handle of his whip forward as he steps towards the unconscious man looking to prod him. I told those fools not to use so much oil of...BY THE QUEEN!
Fjori rises like lightning from the planks and wraps up the whip bearing pirate in his arms. Bartolomeo rushes forward to put his hands on the Nord Not now, friend, this isn't the time or place fer that. but the rooms bursts into chaos as a group of men charge into the room as others like Mel, Quillan, Ajani and Hassan clear to the sides.
Master Scourge! Master Scourge! can be heard from one of the men who run into the room and in the faint light and sudden din of boot stomping and fighting its hard to make out what exactly is happening.
A few quickly traded words later both from the gallery of watchers on the walls and amongst the tangle of men in the center leads to the distinct sound of clubs on flesh as Fjori is struck upon the back and sides, and Bartolomeo as well for his trouble. The man who is apparently "Master Scourge" rips himself from the arms of the large man and straightens his jacket as he emerges from the fray. Sneering at the people who stand to the side Scourge beckons at everyone with his whip. Club em, shackle em and bring em up top. I'm done with this. He promptly exits from the room leaving the ruffians to mop up the mess.
Everyone gets an errant swing for free no matter how passive you play it. Fjori and Barolomeo are chained in the center of the line with Mel behind them and Hassan then Ajani in front of them with Quillin in the lead. The rough hands and wild clubs eventually abate and you are trussed up together and led through what is obviously a ship's narrow corridors. Each of you is nursing more than a fair share of bruises but you all are still conscious and the pain should abate in a few hours if you can avoid any more such events. Fjori and Bartolomeo are at Max HP -2 in nonlethal, everyone else simply has taken 2 nonlethal.
As the ship sways softly and chains clink each of the new captives is given a short chance to reflect on the night before and the sudden change of scenery.
Suspicions are confirmed as you are in fact brought out into the bright sun, the salt laden wind and the main deck of an honest and true sailing vessel. On the rear deck looking down on the main deck, Scourge stands with two bald men. One who has a lighter complexion and a short beard and carries a cat on nine tails. The other much more tall and muscular is a Garundi man featuring a far more elaborate beard punctuated with gold rings. An eye patch covers his left eye and a jeweled hilt displays prominently from beneath his own long coat. This would be the captain.
The mast and rigging as well as the rest of deck is punctuated by a fair number (maybe 18 to 2 dozen) people who make a semi circle around the group as you are dragged in front. Off to the side four other individuals (not chained together like you) appear to have the looks of new recruits such as yourself. There is little time to look the other newcomers over as you are hustled in a manner to stand side by side to look at the captain who looks down on you with a steely gaze from one eye.
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. The captain paces a bit on the deck and then stabs a finger down right at the group of six chained together.
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.
Turning to address the other bald man on deck the captain still yells so that he can be heard from down on the main deck. 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.”
With that the captain disappears from the deck. There is a moment of chaos as the rest of the crew breaks apart but you are able to catch the other newcomers seem to include a human man and woman, a halfling woman and a rather foppish buccaneer looking gnome man. They are quickly dispersed to attend to other tasks as Mr Plugg. descends with Scourge in tow.
Approaching the group he casually wraps the cat o nine tails through his hand and looks over the group. We are to test ya for work assignment but Scourge tells me we had a rough start this mornin'. We ready to play nice or shall I put the lash to ya then test your skills?
Ajani, despite doing the best he can to stay away from the scuffle, takes the blow to his side with a grunt of pain and no further protest. Now is not the time to be trying to assert one's dominance...the law of the jungle applies here as much as in that primal wilderness. You don't try to usurp the leader of the pack without first gaining a pack of your own..increasing your status and stature, your power in the tribe. And you certainly do NOT do that in front of the present head honchos. Chained to these five was no way to do that for certain. He would have to bide his time until a more effective solution presented itself. And so he went where he was directed without protest, lining up behind the gnome who seemed, perhaps, more interested in ingratiating himself with their new taskmaster.
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
Knowledge(Nature): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
Intelligence: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
Suddenly he recognizes a peculiar flavor in his mouth, his eyes widening as he quickly pieces together the events of the previous night, silently glad for his mother's vast knowledge of herbs and the concoctions that can be derived from them. Who'd have ever thought he'd get the chance to use that knowledge in a place like this, though?
He obeys Captain Harrigan's order to remain silent, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible...though that in itself would be a miraculous act, given that he was probably one of the few, if not the first, Vanara most of these people would have ever seen. Still, it was worth trying. He spent his time before they were to be given their duties glancing around the ship, trying to take in its size and relative condition, though he pays particular attention to the other newcomers to ascertain their mood about being similarly press-ganged before Mr. Plugg has them running about with their various duties. His body language clearly indicates he is in no mood to cause trouble.
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21
Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
INT check1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
Mel yelps under the thudding clubs and stumbles along in the coffle blinking as the harsh sunlight hits her eyes..Now she can get a good look at this 'Master Scourge' she recognises him from the 'Formidably Maid'
She gives the Plugg character a leery eye and nods "Oh , allus willin' to play nice Zir..allus.."
Fjori spits the blood from his mouth at the feet of the one called Scourge.
"Sønn av en syk brygge rotte. Slipp meg og jeg vil vise deg hva en ekte sønn av den hvite heksa kan gjøre!"
Son of a diseased wharf rat. Release me and I will show you what a true son of the White Witch can do!!
Shaking his head to clear it, the huge Ulfen looks over the crew and sneers.
"I have seen half sunk knarr run by snotling whelps handled better than this tub!"
Fjori rattles his chains, an insolent grin on his face.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21
Knowledge-Nature: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
Int.: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
Quillin curses again as Pandemonium breaks loose and ducks for cover, but still ends up trampled and bruised by the melee. On the climb to topside, Quillin notices the distinct taste of cloves and wonders what the hell he ate last night.
perception 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Int 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
Upon hearing Mr. Plugg's introduction, the gnome hastily assures him that no more force will be required. "No lashing necessary, Sir. I'm ready to do my part. I tried to warn the Bosun about this Ulfen fool here. I wouldn't trust the long armed lout. Best keep him chained. I'm ready to work though. Just tell me where you need me."
Hassan does his best to stay away from the fight (though he is but a low and humble sailor--praise be unto the gods that he has work in these times of want--and not adept at such martial things), and takes his blows with the grace and patience of Sarenrae herself (a thousand blessings be upon her). When all is said and done, he meekly accepts his chains, and follows the guide of his captors (those sons of scurvy dogs!) to the deck, watching all along.
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 11
Intelligence: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Upon arriving on the deck, Hassan flashes his largest smile to all and sundry, but remains silent until called upon by the illustrious Mr. Plugg.
"وسلم ألف واحد على سيد رأسك النبيل. I have the honor of being Hassan Al-Quorri ibn Salaam ibn Fakar, he who is not worthy of gazing upon your grace. It is my greatest joy to have found at last my true calling as the humble servant of the excellent good Captain Harrigan, all blessings be upon him. As you can see we are all great friends now, and it will surely be unnecessary to whip anyone this morning, thank the gods it is so."
|Dread Captain Devon|
Plugg looks on as Fjori grumbles and shakes his chains. While contemplating the man, Quillin speaks up about warnings and trust. This comment seems to draw Plugg's attention. With a slight nod of his head Plugg points his chin at the gnome who is suddenly struck on the shoulder with a club. 1 point nonlethal. I decide who stays in chains and I will decide where to put you to work.
Turning to Hassan Plugg frowns. That's a lot a pretty words. We'll see what you can do. Hopefully more than talk or you''ll be shark bait...
Waving to Scourge, Plugg continues to pace the line. I need a riggin man and you are gonna climb the ropes to the crows. Your gonna do it fast and prove you got what it takes. Riggin is hard work but its better than tarrin, barnaclin' and the other manner of work the rest of you lout's got in store. Scourge walks the line and unlocks the chains.
Pointing at the rigging that leads up the main mast to the crow's nest, Plugg turns back to the group, certain that everyone is unchained Plugg points at the rope. Climb or I sick Scourge on yar heels!
From deck to nest is 60 feet. Each of you need to roll as many checks as it takes to reach the top. Remember that climb checks are at 1/4 speed unless you opt to climb faster at half speed with a penalty. You may take 10 if you want. You may also "try" to fail if you wish by rolling Bluff. LEt me know if you do something other than climb. ;-)
Ajani, ever dutiful, goes to the rigging, his tail curling around his waist to keep it from being grabbed or getting snagged on any ropes. He briefly looks back to the others before grabbing the first bit of rope, hauling himself up...then rockets up the rigging, making it look like child's play. And why not? He is a Vanara after all.
Taking ten on two accelerated Climb checks. +3 for skill, +8 racial bonus for 20 ft. Climb speed, -5 for double-timing. Result of 16 for each check. Because he wears no armor, his land speed is 30 feet, not 20. That being the lower number between land speed and double climb speed he climbs 30 feet a round. He gets to the top in two rounds. Assuming that will make Ajani the victor, since the fastest anyone else in the group could possibly climb is Fjori double-timing to climb15 ft. per round...if I'm out of line by posting the victory, please let me know, Devon.
Barely over ten seconds later, Ajani is looking down at the others from the crow's nest. He yells an ahoy down to them before clearing his throat and adding in a heavy accent that is reminescent of one from the Mwangi expanse,"It would be appreciated if you would refrain from using the human expression 'Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle.'" A brief grin of playfulness flashes across his features before he stows it, looking to Mr. Plugg with a now-stoic expression to see what his reaction is.
Fjori walks forward to where Plugg stands waiting for the group to start climbing. As he moves forward, he 'bumps' into the gnome, knocking him to the deck. "Watch yourself there little lady," he says as he walks past.
Craft-Ship: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
Profession-Sailor: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
"Climbing the rigging is a test for beardless boys. I have been working the longships of my people since I was 14 winters old."
Fjori looks over the ship and points out several flaws in previous repairs. He also brings to Pluggs notice several ways to increase the productivity of the watches.
Hassan watches in amazement as the simian boy ambles up the rigging. "By the seven curly chin hairs of the Satrap, you climb well my friend," he says, to no one in particular.
Not to be totally out-done, Hassan dutifully takes to the rigging, climbing slowly but purposefully to the top over the course of most of a minute.
Taking ten on 8 climb checks, for a result of 10 on each.
Q rubs his shoulder and groans inwardly. As he steps toward the mast, he gives the barbar the stinkeye for the bump. Turning back to Plugg, he pats his rounded belly and notes, "I don't really have a climber's physique. Do you have any work better suited for me. Perhaps bookkeeping or something of that nature?"
|Bartolomeo da Cofresi|
As the melee breaks out, Bart curses himself inwardly. Figgers. Look at yerself, Bart. This is why we don' do the whole hero thing. Bloody, beaten, and bruised Bart quite willingly allows himself to be chained just to get out of the dogpile.
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 4
Int: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Outside, the sun once again reminds Bart of his headache. I had almost fergotten abou' that with the kickin' an' all.
"Heh, Bart chuckles under his breath as he spits up a glob of blood. After stomaching about as much as he can of the captain and his cronies, Bart has to almost literally bite his tongue to keep from making a comment about Plugg ('Ey Plugg, 'ow often the captain give ya a good pluggin'?) or the monkey-man (I saw a man in Port Peril 'ad a pet monkey could do the same thin'.). Instead he merely grins and nurses the back of his head while the others show of just how good of pirates they are.
After he lets the others finish attempting to suitably please and/or displease Plugg, Bart finally meanders over to the rope.
Take 10 four times with accelerated climbing. 10+8-5=13 makes the check. Since I'm unarmored, my climb speed is 15 ft., four times is 60 ft.
Bart takes to the rigging with ease. Not quite so much as the monkey, but it's obvious enough even to the untrained eye that Bart knows what he's doing. Without showing off, Bart steadily makes his way up the ropes.
Mel climbs the rigging steadily but is amazed at the speeed the ape Man is able to achieve rwecxhing the top before she is even half way to it...still she keeps climbing knowing a few words are needed out of Pluggs earshot.
"Listen.." she says as she reaches the others.."I reckon we need to stick together..watch each others backs..and let's not get on the wrong side of that bastard down there before we are ready to deal with him on our terms.."
Take 10 6 times for a 14 on each check
|Dread Captain Devon|
As the group approaches the rigging, Fjori rumbles further about his situation, Climbing the rigging is a test for beardless boys. I have been working the longships of my people since I was 14 winters old. and then the Nord proceeds to point out the various "issues" that he sees. As the others prepare to climb, Plugg jerks his head towards Fjori and Scourge turns and lashes out with his handy whip. The end snaps against Fjori's exposed flesh and the shock and sting is enough to send the already weary and bruised northman to the deck. Fjori take another 3 nonlethal which should be 1 over max/current so you are currently unconscious...stubborn ox ;-)
As Ajani scales the ropes with Bartolomeo fast on his heels, Plugg is mostly distracted as the gnome approaches. I don't really have a climber's physique. Do you have any work better suited for me. Perhaps bookkeeping or something of that nature? Scourge raises his whip hand to teach the gnome a listen but in the instant Ajani reaches the top Plugg reaches out and holds Scourge at bay as he scours at Quillin. I wouldn't want you in my ropes even if you were faster than the monkey. I'll put your "physique" to good use...to "Fishguts" with ya. Plugg waves a hand at a brute standing by who moves on Quillin in an obvious attempt to take him somewhere else on the ship. As the brute moves the gnome on, Plugg yells over his shoulder, Keep the drunk in line, I want my meals better than they been.With that Quillin is herded to the galley.
Plugg screams at the rest of you to come down off the ropes. As you do Plugg and Scourge have a quick exchange that is mostly eaten by the various sounds of the ship.
As Ajani, Mel, Bart and Hassan descend, Quillin is scooted off and Fjori is taken to the foremast on the forward deck and is tied to the mast. Off this same mast a rusty cage is hung with a mostly decayed body in it. A vibrant green parrot sits on top of this cage and squawks Another bastard for the f@$+in pole! as Fjori is tied up. Scourge barks out for someone named "Quinn" and a tall redheaded woman in seafaring regalia arrives on the deck. There is a short exchange between the woman and Scourge and he comes back to the group while the woman appears to tend to Fjori.
Plugg looks over the remaining four and sneers. I changed my mind. Damn monkey moves so fast I might be able to get some things done I wasn't planning. You and this one here... Plugg points at Bartolomeo, are mine for rigging. The rest are to be swabs under the tender care of Master Scourge and if your large northern friend lives through "Bloody Hour" he can keep the poet and fresh meat company on the deck. Time to get to work. Welcome to the "sweet trade" boys.
Scourge looks to Hassan and Mel and waves a hand, With me. while Plugg looks over to Ajani and Bartolomeo and beckons them to follow him elsewhere on the deck.
I am gonna pause here for a second because I need to do a bunch of posts for each group...which will be the one big challenge for this AP but ah well. I'll also get some info up in OOC because you are about to get your introduction to ship actions and what not. Feel free to post some transition narrative, I will get more up soon.
Being the last to the top, Hassan has only a moment to pause for breath before beginning the climb down. "I think we are brothers in thought, young master," he says in response to Mel. He takes a moment to survey the deck below, and sees Fjori's slacken form being dragged across the deck. "But we must have a care to be more subtle than our excellent friend from the lands of winter." With that he begins the climb down.
Perception => 1d20 ⇒ 19
Upon returning to the deck and receiving his assignment: "Glorious Master Scourge, it is a great honor that one so lowly as I am granted the honor of being in your service."
|Bartolomeo da Cofresi|
As Bart descends the rigging he crosses his arms across his broad chest and stands there with a sour look on his face. When Plugg moves to converse with Scourge, he strains his ears to catch their words over the waves.
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 20
After catching their little exchange, Bart's eyes follow Scourge as he drags the big man over the the post. His brow furrows in worry. You just can't help being the hero, can you, he thinks at himself. He is, however swiftly distracted from his mental berating of himself by the appearance of the woman, apparently Quinn. This may not be so bad after all. Bart grins.
Ajani looks briefly to Mel, giving a barely-perceptible nod of agreement. He doesn't verbally respond, not wanting to draw any attention to himself or her, hoping that she'll notice his signal of acknowledgement.
Once the contest has been declared finished, he scurries back down the rigging just as quickly as he'd climbed up it, releasing the ropes to drop the last few feet onto the surface of the deck.
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13
He watches as Scourge and Plugg have some kind of private conversation, but he is unable to hear what is being said...and shortly he is distracted by a tall, fire-haired woman arriving on deck that apparently goes by the name Quinn. The sharp squawk of the parrot draws his attention to the large....what did the yellow-haired boy call him..a Nord? Worriedly, Ajani casts a glance to Fjori as he is being secured to the mast. Certainly he took the attention off of the rest of the group, but he never wished harm upon the large man...though, he supposes, it's mostly his own fault for continually provoking the taskmasters.
The sound of Plugg's beckoning snaps him back to reality and he quickly comes back to himself, crossing the deck to join Plugg with whatever task or job he has in mind for he and Bartolomeo. Surely if the Nords are as hardy as the blonde said, the man being tied to the mast will survive his ordeal.
Quillin bows to Plugg and holds his tongue much relieved to have avoided another beating and thinking he could have done far worse than the galley. The gnome stops and almost runs back when he hears the profane parrot, but quickly realizes it isn't Smudge and dejectedly carries on to the kitchen.
"Well this is not the first time I have be tied to the mast, but I must say it has been the first time such a lovely woman has come to care for my wounds!"
Fjori looks over at the other prisoners and sighs. At least they will have something of an easier time, as long as he can keep the mate and his dog focused on him. The boy and the monkey man worried him the most. Those too different or too weak looking are usually the first to be picked on. He hopes, by gaining the attention of the officers, he will make it go a little easier for the others, although that brute of a Chelix could probably take a few licks.
He winces as a lass with the fiery hair tends the lash marks on his bare chest. "Easy there lass," he says in a soft voice, "You don’t want to be taking the mate's fun away. I think your 'tender' ministrations are hurting more than that cat of his!!"
Perception1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Mel is unable to make out the conversation between the two ships officers and the Nord is really beneath her notice for now though she resolves to try and talk some sense into him later...extra muscle always being useful even if he seems to have most off it between his ears..
The Gnome has apparently been removed to somewhere whilst she was climbing and the Ape Man and the large Chelaxian are claimed for the rigging crew which leaves her and the smiling Quadiran..she doesn't trust people who smile too much..too often that smile turns out to mask a vicious interior.In addition he probably follows the usual Quadiran worship of Sarenrae and she has had issues with that church since childhood.
|Dread Captain Devon|
Each of you will be assigned a task for the day and in your posts I will note the requisite skill checks. In addition to that task you may pick a daytime action (I posted a common list in the campaign info tab) which may affect your work. Though there are penalties for failure (in the form of punishment) for your job actions I will allow folks to take ten as there is no immediate threat and plenty of other factors (like weather and so on) that will provide adequate penalties that might force a roll. Be sure to note in your posts which daytime actions you are taking and/or what alternative task you might set about on. One final note is that I am going to ignore sea sickness as all of you have indicated strong sea faring backgrounds. Normally there is a check involving Pro:Seafaring but I think its not an issue.
I am going to post most info open as you are mostly in eye and earshot of each other at some point. Very specific information might be spoilered but I trust everyone to play what the character knows not the player, etc.
|Dread Captain Devon|
Fjori: The woman cocks an eyebrow at Fjori's fast awakening at her initial efforts and smirks slightly as the Nord makes his comments. Scourge is a petty and a "small" man and you best not make enemies of him or Plugg without allies of your own. Luckily some of us don't like that sniveling little s#@! or his right proper master Plugg. The redhead is careful to keep her voice low. All the same you best take your time and lay low. Pirate politics are hard politics and those two play to the death...
The woman frowns and idly tugs at a silver necklace featuring the symbol of none other than Besmara the goddess of pirates herself. Mostly bruises though the whip did some work. You weren't hit with the cat and pray you aren't Plugg is a skilled man when it comes to bringing pain... Nodding to herself resolutely she reaches forward and places her hand directly on Fjori's wounds, utter arcane words and closes her eyes. Warm effusive light closes the bleeding flesh and takes away the dull aches. They mean to put the lash to you for "Bloody Hour" best you be in top shape. The woman does let her eyes linger over Fjori's form for a moment and then laughs. Hearing her name called by Scourge "Quinn" frowns slightly and winks hustling off to leave Fjori tied to the mizzenmast.
Above the mast, sitting on the cage the small parrot squawks at Fjori, S%&$ stains get no rations!
Not much to do tied there. It may be that someone comes your way in the course of the day otherwise Fjori won't be untied until "Bloody Hour".
|Dread Captain Devon|
1d6 ⇒ 51d6 ⇒ 51d6 ⇒ 6
Hassan & Mel:
At Hassan's warm greeting Scourge looks at the man with a wide eyed gaze like a mermaid has risen from the waters and asked to kiss him. A scowl creeps across his face and he points at Hassan with the end of his whip, I need to put that mouth to decent use but I can barely stand the sight of ya. You are going to be my runner today and when you are near me keep your damn mouth shut! Scourge indicates a number of messages to be sent and where to go and sends Hassan off with a wave to bring him back replies and be ready to run more message and items about the ship for the rest of the day. DC 10 Arcobatics and DC 10 Con check please. Feel free to specify a daytime action.
Afte Hassan is sent on his way Scourge turns to Mel and issues a clicking sound from behind his mostly gold teeth. I don't know if I have ever seen a boy so soft survive on a ship. No sense sparing you. Make my life easier to either break you or tough you up fast. I got ropes that need splicin and sails that need mendin. Scourge gets a slight smile on his face as he looks Mel up and down. You'll be a right proper partner for that dead worshipper newcomer, Cog.
Looking about the deck a moment Scourge half pushes Mel towards a tall human man with a ruddy complexion. The man sports a blue Varisian scarf on his head that rides low on his ears, a gold earring and seems smooth shaved head and face save for an angry point of a bear on his chin. His cutlass hangs easily as does a knife in a wooden sheath. The man known as "Cog" scowls at Mel and does little to soften the look for Scourge as the two come upon him as he works at mending a sail.
Scourge gestures to a pile of sails and tells Mel to get to work and hovers about until he is sure the "boy" is doing his proper task before moving about the deck to look in on other swabs. DC 10 Pro :sailor and let me know what other task you might have in mind.
|Dread Captain Devon|
Quillin is escorted through the officer's quarters and past a large dark skinned man, chained to the wall who seems half asleep, to arrive midships at the galley. The burly dwarf escorting Quillin half opens the galley door and pushes the gnome through before slamming the door shut and tromping away.
At a door across the way Quillin sees a half-orc woman bearing a nasty scar leaning on the bottom half of a split service door. Her neck sports an angry looking scar and she is covered in a myrid or piercings that only accentuate the hard angles of her face and protruding teeth. Looking at Quillin the woman lazily stands up and shouts Fishguts, I think you have an new assistant! Her voice is undercut with a gravelly rasp undoubtedly accentuated by her neck wound.
Amidst the chaos of the galley and the bleating of goats and clucking of chickens, a large sodden blob of a man rounds the southern corner and looks upon Quilin. His apron is stained with all manner of items and his breath is so rum drenched that he smells like a distillery from across the room.
Assistant eh? Well I'm...Ambro...Ambro...Fishguts! He picks up a mallet from a table to emphasize the point. And that is the Quartermaster Grok... The half-orc gives a lazy wave as she settles head on hand back in the doorway. And we are going to make food for the...the...crew! Fishguts raises his hands above his head and this proves to be too much. Drunk to the point of uselessness the cook collapses to the floor with a loud "thwump". Chickens sqwak and scatter about the room in fright from the sudden noise.
Grok sighs from her doorway and steps out, turning to lock the top and bottom sections of the door as she does. I'll drag him to bed, you best get to cooking. Plugg always stops by at midday to be certain something is in the works seeing as Ambrose here is awake only half the time... Hefting the cook by the shoulders the half-orc woman drag the cook into the adjoining quarters and Quillin is left in the galley to do as he will as Grok wrestles to get Fishguts into his bed.
Its at this moment that Smudge emerges from the nearby cabin clamoring along amongst a group of chickens until he sees Quillin and flies up to the table with a "oh there you are" expression on his small face.Assuming you cook as implied that is a Pro:Cook or Int Check, DC 10. And pick a daytime action!
|Dread Captain Devon|
Ajani & Batolomeo:
Ajani and Bart stand before Plugg and it is in this moment that the pair get a chance to solidly see the man who is second in command. Unlike many sailors his coat is pristine, his hair is shorn bare in a deliberate manner and his beard is bound and braided in a way that shows intense attention. The cat o nine tails is well cared for and the cutlass on his hip, which features an elongated skull, seems to be polished. "Precise" might be a word used to describe Plugg's demeanor.
Looking Ajani and Bart over Plugg seems much more likely to hold his emotions than Scourge it by no means makes him seem "happy". Looking to Ajani Plugg looks up about the rigging.
Well my monkey friend. I need eyes in the crows. Let's see if you can watch as well as you climb.
With a dismissive gesture Ajani is sent to the top of the mast. DC 10 Climb? You may specify a daytime action if you like.
Plugg considers Bartolomeo longer. Your friend likes trouble and you are certainly...ahem...healthy. Plugg's eyes seem to slither across Bart for a moment not unlike how a butcher might contemplate his cuts. You can spend your day in the top rigs with the other newcomer gnome. "Conchshell" or whatever ridiculous name the little worm has. Putting his hands to his brow Plugg looks about the rigging and points out the foppish gnome from the deck earlier in the morning. Despite the blustery wind the gnome's broad brimmed and feather adorned cap sits firmly on his head as he shuffles about the rigging.
Plugg gestures lazily towards the gnome. I assume you know what to do, if not get the gnome to help you or you'll talk to the cat. Plugg crosses his arms and stares at Bart watching the man to see if he goes about his assigned task. Climbing DC 10. Upper RiggingWork will need a DC 10 Pro:Sailor check or a Dex check. As with everyone else, feel free to pick a daytime task.
Ajani carefully observes their commandant as he gives them their marching orders for the day. The meticulousness which he clearly cares for himself and his possessions with is very impressive to the Vanara. He silently wonders just how well Plugg and Scourge work with each other, given the clear differences in their personalities indicated by the differing manners with which they care for themselves.
Of course, a man is precise as Plugg could be even more dangerous than someone like Scourge...he is likely to be more observant and realize when something dangerous is about to go down. Certainly one worth watching.
After receiving his orders from Plugg, Ajani simply nods, not speaking in reply as he returns to the crow's nest, scurrying up the rigging in much the same manner as he did before.
Climb: Take 10 + 11 = 21
Do you want a Perception check for the crow's nest viewing, too?
When his shift is over, he climbs back down the rigging; having decided that Mr. Plugg would be a good friend to have on the crew, Ajani approaches him on the poop deck. "I thank you for allowing me to prove my skills as a Vanara. My people have dismally little exposure beyond the Mwangi Expanse. If you do not mind my asking, sir, have you ever before encountered a member of my race?"
|Dread Captain Devon|
"Smudge! Where you been to ya bleeding bird? I was getting worried. In with chickens? I think you'd blend in better with the rats!"
Smudge croaks back in Azlanti, "Stick it in your gill, Fishsticks!"
"Oh ho!" replies Quillin/"Fishguts fill-in, rather."
He eyeballs Grok's locks. "'Tis a pity the quartermaster is so assiduous. I'd like to have a look into stores. Later, I suppose, but for now it is important that we make a good first impression. I've suffered enough by boot and truncheon today. So what's for chow, my fine feathered fowl?"
"Piss in the pot! Piss in the pot!" Smudge offers.
Quillin cackles, but does his best to make something edible with a prestidigitation ace up his sleeve to make it palatable should he fail.
Working hard- Int 1d20 + 3 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 3 + 4 = 24