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Tark's Skull and Shackles: Besmara's Harpies (Inactive)

Game Master Tark the Ork

CURRENT COMBAT MAP!


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Male Orc Expert 5

It's difficult to say how long you were out but easy to say that part of you wished you never woke up. Pleasant dreams of music, free flowing alcohol, and the beautiful night sky were all that comforted you in your state of unconsciousness. Later, when you recalled the tale later, you recalled that these were the last of such dreams for what felt like an eternity.

When your eyes fluttered open it was to darkness ,moaning and some dark pit of your stomach was afraid to roll over for fear of finding out just what you did last night.

As you attempt to reassert your grip on reality there's a sudden brightness as a lantern lights up spraying its oppressive cone of sharp brightness right into the pain receptors of your brain. A voice then adds to the cacophony of cerebral agony as gravelly and rough as the cheapest ales.

“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!”

There is a crack of a whip and a sense of urgency as you reach hurriedly for your weapons or some means to defend yourself and almost choke on the realization of being unarmed, unarmored, and all but the clothes on your back stripped of you. There are other bodies around you and behind the light and the man with the whip are a number of eager looking individuals wielding blunt instruments.


F Stormborn sorceror(2), Halfling Female [AC 13, Current HP 2/10, F+1, R+2, W+5, Init +3,Perc+3]

Eyes still crusty, left arm suffering from pins and needles, a serious hangover and sensitive scalp, Lorn falls back into habits established since childhood without concious thought. And this is probably what saved her from another good thumping, as she stumbled upwards through the press of flesh and groping hands. "Acchchhhh! That sun! My head! Aye Bos'n, reporting to station." On deck, she heads to what memory serves her as the sail loft/canvas locker of her ol' Chelexian vessel. A belaying pin held by a tanned weathered hand roughly bruises her against the rail, "Here now Lassy, you ain't going anywhere but where the Bos'n needs ya. And it'll be sharkbait if you can't form a simple line. Sorry bucket of bilgewaste! Lookit boys! I bet two weeks! Any takers? HaHaHa"

Grasping the rail behind her, the world coming into focus in spite of the Sun's glare, Lorn closes her mouth of an obvious retort finaly realizing not her preferred crew, not a chelaxian vessel, not anyone or any vessel she has worked upon. Casting about for sight of land or a recognized face, her situation become midnight clear. And tis a dark future indeed.


(Male Mwangi Alchemist (Vivisectionist, Beastmorph) 2 AC 14/11/13 / HP 18/18 / F +5 R +4 W +3 / Init. +1 / Perc. +7)

Head pounding as if all of his tribe wa playing da’ steel drums, Mumbata runs a thick meaty hand over his mouth trying to wipe away the drool, then with his other hand, he attempts to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “Ugggghhh” Taking stock of his location, between the smell of rotten fish, old wood, sea salt and da rocking of da deck, it’s a safe bet that Mumbata’s onboard a ship.

Oh lords, this be a familiar sight… the crack of a whip, the unwashed bodies, this be the Larcenous Ifirit all over again. Stay call Mumbutu, play stupid and go along until you can escape. By da’ gods below and above, it worked once before, it can work again.

Shuffling out of the pile of bodies, Mumbata stands and forms a line behind the tiny hafling. “Aye, Boss-Mon. Watevr jah want!”


Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

The words sound like gibberish in Siera's ears, the left one still sporting a crust of dried blood where the sap hit her.

That cawk%&cking filthy whore! 'A little one to whet your apetittes', she said. Tasted like the floor of a tavern's alley. Got me dizzy, almost didn't seen ta ballbustin' bastard coming from behind with a club. F#&*er's must still be missing a teeth, though.

The fit woman puts her hands on the ground and tries distancing her head from the floor. The world whirls and shakes, but it only takes her a few seconds to reduce the whirling to the ship's movement.

No chains, not a slave. Thank ta gods. Not terribly far from it tho.

A leg under the other bring the woman to her feet while her eyes blink back the dust to adjust to the light.

Aye aye. Na reason ta' crack ta whip, baoss.


Rorgrim wakes up feeling like he was hit by the mighty hammer he wields in battle. As he hears the sound of movement, he opens his eyes to see a black and white room filled with bodies lying all around.

What th' hell did I drink last night?

As he tries to remember what happened, a blast of light interrupts his dark vision like a sharp blade slicing through his skull causing severe pain and temporary blindness. Grabbing his head he lets out an angry cry and then responds to the rude interruption.

Aghhh! Turn that damn light off ye scallywag!

His statement is interrupted abruptly by the voice of another. As he hears the crack of the whip, he instinctively reaches for his hammer.

Oh hell! Where be me weapon?! Where be all me gear fer that matter? This t'ain't good!

Fighting a mounting internal rage, he slowly rises to his feet and follows the others onto the deck wondering what is going on.


Female Half-Elf Witch (Sea Witch) 2

Pain shooting through her head, Sylvestra groggily tried to remember the night before. She recalled a man buying her drinks, ugly as sin but free with with his money. Not remembering much afterwards, an ugly thought crossed her mind. "Besmara's Barnacled Britches, tell me I didn't..."

Taking the time to try to focus her gaze, at first she fears the may have truly crossed a line, until she realizes by the swaying she's on a ship. "Too used to it, didn't even notice at first. What's going on?" She suddenly rises to sitting, the motion making her feel sick, worsened by a sudden light appearing.

TarkXT wrote:
“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!”

Reaching into her pouch, she realizes everything's been stripped from her. "Damn." She stands with the others, knowing what has probably befallen her, as well as the others around her. Unfortunately for Sylvestra, her mouth was too quick for her own good. "He should have Fishguts fry us up some breakfast before he does any flaying." She continues up despite her comment.


Female Human Cleric 1

Pain. not the good pain of a hangover after a fun night either.

No this was definitely nothing good, and sombody would get cut for the way she felt right now.

Rhialla opened her eyes slowly, the smell and the press of bodies hitting her at the same time.

Somewhere cramped, full of people.

She felt the familiar swaying that immediately put her at ease a bit.

A ship. Better than a jail cell.

The blinding shard of light that stabbed her brain awake made it clear that she was crammed in a hold with a collection of other poor bastards, and the blighter with the whip was now in charge.

Despite herself she couldn't help but chuckle to herself a bit. That bastard Three Finger Will had found a way to get rid of her anyway.


Male Orc Expert 5

Another crack of the whip inches from the dwarf's ear gets the rest of you moving and Rorgrim something to think about.

"Ye shut yer bilge hole an get movin! Cap'n wants ta see ya now and the last of ya swabs up that ladder gets ta feel the sting of da lash!"

Warning given and understood there's quite a push to get up the ladder on deck and true to his word the man with the whip lays a nasty laceration across the back of a man who didn't quite make it up in time.

The sun itself is bright and the weather warm. Both highly offensive things. The ship is old and large but has every appearance of being tough and fast. All around you is the calmly rolling waters of the deep blue sea with just a tiny gray sliver far to the north where you presume was your last known whereabouts as far as the authorities might be concerned (they never are in these parts).

Perception 10:
There is a strange taste of nutmeg in the back of your mouth.

If you made the above check make Know Nature 10 or Craft Alchemy 15:
Considering your symptoms and the taste you were clearly a victim of Oil of Taggit poisoning

You finally get the faces of the tormentor's all dirty and sweaty sailors male and female both smiling the sort of smile that the gods reserved for psychopathic bullies. The man with the whip appears in a long waxed leather coat with a black braided beard. His mouth is twisted into something you can almost swear is a grimace of agony but is apparently his version of a smile. It is filled with gold teeth.

Intelligence 10:
You remember seeing this man's face from last night.

You thankfully find that you are not the only one pressganged into service. In addition to yourself there are at least five others you remember seeing that night in addition to four more that you can tell by their cleanliness and overall uneasiness with their current predicament.

A group of men and women are gathered around the mizzenmast staring at the upper deck at a pair of figures that regard you from above. The first is a mountainous looking garundi man whose every inch of skin bulges with gnarled muscle his dark skin giving him the effect of being made of wood. He is bald with a long blackbeard held together by golden rings. He bears an aura of authority and confidence that marks him as the captain. By his right side is a balding man with a black ponytail wearing a cutlass and cat of ninetails that appears to have been used numerous times. He is barechested save for his long blue coat that is immaculate compared to the whip mans black and tattered affair.

As you gather your wits about you the Garundi man speaks in a deep bass that easily carries over the whispers of the sails and gentle roar of the ocean.

“Glad you could join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for ‘volunteering’ to join my crew." This little joke illicits a hearty but humorless laugh from the 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.

“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. 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.”

As he turns and walks away Mr. Plugg descends the staircase bellowing. "BACK TO WORK! BACK TO WORK! If I see one of you lollygagging you'll spend the rest of the day in the sweatbox! You there!"

As he moves towards you the whipman moves in behind him coiling and uncoiling his whip anxiously.

"Swabs! Tell me yer names or I'll invent one for you."


Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

The muscular woman looks around, searching the crew for the one man who fought in the previous night. Her eyes spell murder, her lips tightened in a scowl.

Bastards, all o'em.

Siera's the name, mate. Handy with sails and good with knots.


Female Human Cleric 1

Perception1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

As Rhialla comes above deck the man in front of her, an unusally tall specimen, moves just enough to find her staring directly into the sun. Blinded and distracted she takes a few moments to blink the spots from her eyes before taking in the ship and its crew.

Crazy bastards. Barracuda anxios to prey on something slow and easy.

A small smile crosses her full lips as she takes in the captain's arrogance.

Such was the way of the sea. The strong took from the weak......then they gave it back in spades.

Her smile broadened.


Perception 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8


(Male Mwangi Alchemist (Vivisectionist, Beastmorph) 2 AC 14/11/13 / HP 18/18 / F +5 R +4 W +3 / Init. +1 / Perc. +7)

Perception:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

Knowledge (nature):1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

Intelligence:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9

Ya' that their be ah familar sight, "dun't talks to meh eh sady's" seen dat dur like be fur, right proud he be... lettel too proud me thinks, me thinks he only like his own voice, rouight foolish. Just play dumb for now Mumbata 'ait for dem to make ah mistake

Keeping his head low and not making eye contact, the dark ebony skinned man waits for a few others to give their names so as not to be seen as the first, then he speaks for the first time in a low rough voice.

"Ya Boss Mon, I be Mumbata of da Bonuwat"


Female Half-Elf Witch (Sea Witch) 2

"Drugging the rum? Waste of good rum. No one heard me earlier it seems, probably for the better. Gotta bide my time, people like these too lazy to do their own work. They'll get sloppy." She keeps her head down, though she once again can't help staring the man in the eyes when she gives her name. "Sylvestra."

Dice:

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23
Knowledge(Nature): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
Intelligence: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22


As the Captain and First Mate lay down the law and the others begin to offer their names, Rorgrim breaths in the salty air and feels alive for the first time in weeks. His mind wanders to his childhood and he sees his father navigating their whaling vessel. He pictures himself as a small child taking in the sights and the sounds of the ocean and remembers the feeling of the wind blowing on his young face. He visualizes himself harpooning his first whale and his Father's excitement at his success. Rorgrim's memories are abruptly interrupted by the man confronting him and demanding his name.

Rorgrim will play the'r games. Dasn't lose yer temper. `Tis be jus' a game. Give 't a wee bit o' days.

Rorgrim stands up as tall as his Dwarvish frame will allow with his shoulders flexed and his chest pushed out. Without looking at any of the men on the boat, he speaks in his deep, rough voice.

The name be Rorgrim Stormbeard.

Rolls:
Intelligence: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (10) + 0 = 10


F Stormborn sorceror(2), Halfling Female [AC 13, Current HP 2/10, F+1, R+2, W+5, Init +3,Perc+3]

Dice wit' touch of destiny

Spoiler:
Perception 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
Knowledge Nature1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Intel141d20 ⇒ 18

Seeing naught but unwashed tattered clothing covering unwashed bodies Lorn cannot even get her bearings from the horizon, just that damn blinding sun. The circle of pressed flesh releases and she finds herself following the crew's stares up to the upperdeck.

Quote:

“Glad you could join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for ‘volunteering’ to join my crew." This little joke illicits a hearty but humorless laugh from the 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.

“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. 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.”

Listening intently, her thoughts hidden behind an obeisance face.

Standard break'm and make'm introduction, excessive display of force... AAahhhhh Indentured vs slavery. Such a fine line. Welcome back to the bottom of the ladder. Here they approach now. Mumbata, Sylvestra, Rorgrim… Those gold teeth remind me…
Looking up, squinting to take in every detail available of Cap’n Harrigan and his right-hand man. She simply states, ”Lorn” She remains focused on the officers of the deck as they continue their introductions, waiting for the next prompt.


Female Human Cleric 1

Int check:
1d20 ⇒ 9

The pounding in her head was insistent, pushing away the memories of the night before everytime she reached for them.

No matter, it wasn't the first time she'd woken up wishing she'd drank less and odds were it wouldn't be the last. Though this might be the worst to date.

Taking a deep breath of the salt air she didn't miss the eyes of the crew drawn to the effects of her movement.

"Rhialla Blackwater" she says with confidence looking up at the captain.


Male Orc Expert 5

"Bah!" The man with the whip spits. "Might as well call them spit and piss! Hardly worth nothin iffin ye ask me Mr. Plugg!"

The balding man, the first mate Mr. Plugg seems to seethe. But then the man looks as if seething is merely a natural state of being.

"First things first!" The man says. "I needs another rigger!" He points upward with his cat of nine tails indicating the crows nest. "Up! We'll see how well you swabs can scramble up the rigging! MOVE! OR I'LL PUT A DEVIL'S OWN WRATH UPON YE!"

The crows nest is 60 feet up. You move at one quarter your normal climb speed in a check (about 7 feet per check for 30ft speed characters). Half for accelerated climbing. To speed this up simply continue making checks until you get to the 60 foot mark reversing your progress on any failures of 5 or more (i.e. you fall).


Female Half-Elf Witch (Sea Witch) 2

What's the DC for the check? And gulp.


Male Orc Expert 5

10 sorry.


Female Human Cleric 1

Despite having the appearance of being far more suited to other pursuits, Rhialla practically leaps up the rigging to the top, only slowing slightly at the end of the climb, a wild grin on her beautiful face.

Accelerated climbing so 3.5ft per check, rounds

checks:
1d20 ⇒ 16
1d20 ⇒ 17
1d20 ⇒ 13
1d20 ⇒ 15
1d20 ⇒ 16
1d20 ⇒ 13
1d20 ⇒ 19
1d20 ⇒ 11
1d20 ⇒ 7
1d20 ⇒ 15
1d20 ⇒ 4
1d20 ⇒ 10
1d20 ⇒ 7
1d20 ⇒ 1
1d20 ⇒ 5
1d20 ⇒ 12
1d20 ⇒ 13
1d20 ⇒ 4
1d20 ⇒ 5
1d20 ⇒ 15
1d20 ⇒ 12
1d20 ⇒ 9
1d20 ⇒ 7
1d20 ⇒ 14
1d20 ⇒ 18
1d20 ⇒ 13
1d20 ⇒ 1
1d20 ⇒ 1
1d20 ⇒ 20
1d20 ⇒ 12


Female Half-Elf Witch (Sea Witch) 2

28 rounds.

The Climb Checks:

1d20 ⇒ 17+7
1d20 ⇒ 7=7
1d20 ⇒ 6=7
1d20 ⇒ 11+7=14
1d20 ⇒ 12+7=21
1d20 ⇒ 18+7=28
1d20 ⇒ 7=28
1d20 ⇒ 11+7=35
1d20 ⇒ 13+7=42
1d20 ⇒ 17+7=49
1d20 ⇒ 5-7=42
1d20 ⇒ 19+7=49
1d20 ⇒ 2-7=42
1d20 ⇒ 2-7=35
1d20 ⇒ 1-7=28
1d20 ⇒ 12+7=35
1d20 ⇒ 8=35
1d20 ⇒ 8=35
1d20 ⇒ 7=35
1d20 ⇒ 15+7=42
1d20 ⇒ 6=42
1d20 ⇒ 6=42
1d20 ⇒ 5-7=35
1d20 ⇒ 20+7=42
1d20 ⇒ 2-7=35
1d20 ⇒ 11+7=42
1d20 ⇒ 20+7=49
1d20 ⇒ 12+7=56
1d20 ⇒ 10+7=GOAL!!


rolls:
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

15 feet=5 rolls

rolls:
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

Fall 25ft 1d6 ⇒ 6 1d6 ⇒ 6

12 points of damage &. 60 ft away.

I noticed the players above didn't take their fall damage and start over on rolls of one. Is this not needed? If the fall isn't in effect, I am 20 feet up and I'll rage. If I take the damage, I begin cursing the rope,

rolls:
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

At the end of 15 checks, I am 40 feet.

rolls:
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Rorgrim reached the top in 19 checks ie 10 rounds.

On his way up, he is looking up at Rhialla's beautiful curves:

Fellas, looks like we be having a fine one here. Best thing I be see'n all day!


Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

Siera looks at the crow's nest and the sun above.

Mite as well prove meself useful lest I become sharkbait.

She takes a step back, inhales deeply, and begins climbing with a running start.

Climb +8 checks:

1st check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18 7 feet.
2nd check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23 14 feet.
3rd check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12 21 feet.
4th check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28 28 feet.
5th check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11 35 feet.
6th check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27 42 feet.
7th check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15 49 feet.
8th check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25 56 feet.
9th check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 63 feet.

It takes Siera 9 checks (5 rounds) to reach the crow's nest.

Her heart racing, and body covered with sweat, Siera climbs aboard the crow's nest. She takes a moment to savor the salty air above before rubbing the sweat out of her face.


F Stormborn sorceror(2), Halfling Female [AC 13, Current HP 2/10, F+1, R+2, W+5, Init +3,Perc+3]

”Aye Aye” Striding fast, she takes a flying leap unto the lowest rope rung. Watching the others fly by on the lines, ”Yep, slow and steady won’t win me any favors. Better that I fall.”
Let the dice tell the tale:

Spoiler:
20’ movement/4=5’ per check=12 checks or 6 accelerated(-5to roll). Assuming DC10 as per CR pg91 Ships rigging. Climb(St)+3 [=0rank+1stat+0class+2Racial-0ac]
10’ 1d20 + 3 - 5 ⇒ (14) + 3 - 5 = 12 20’ 1d20 + 3 - 5 ⇒ (18) + 3 - 5 = 16 30’ 1d20 + 3 - 5 ⇒ (1) + 3 - 5 = -1 40’ 1d20 + 3 - 5 ⇒ (11) + 3 - 5 = 9 50’ 1d20 + 3 - 5 ⇒ (2) + 3 - 5 = 0 60’ 1d20 + 3 - 5 ⇒ (18) + 3 - 5 = 16 Catching herself yet again but why since the deck was right there…”Slow and steady will have to do.”
5’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16 5’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9 5’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8 10’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18 15’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19 20’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20 25’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14 30’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22 30’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6 35’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17 40’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14 40’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7 45’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15 50’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17 45’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 540’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5 45’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19 40’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
45’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23 40’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5 45’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 2240’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4 45’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14 40’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 445’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12 50’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14 55’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 2355’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8 60’ 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
Really? 35 checks for 60' of rigging? A rope ladder. I'd probably fail at walk the plank...

"That was...invigorating... Guess I am not cut out for a rigger.


(Male Mwangi Alchemist (Vivisectionist, Beastmorph) 2 AC 14/11/13 / HP 18/18 / F +5 R +4 W +3 / Init. +1 / Perc. +7)

"Ok Boss Mon what ever jah need"

Stripping down from his boots and shirt, Mumbata shows his sun hardened physique for the first time. You can see that his body is covered from tattoos and ritual scarifications. His hands are hard with calluses and his back is already covered with scars from something that looks distinctly like the hard white scars lines from a whip. It seems this is not the first time Mumbata has been an indentured "servant"

climb checks:

15: Climb:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9 0 feet
15: Climb:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14 0 feet
15: Climb:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20 15 feet
30: Climb:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18 30 feet
45: Climb:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18 45 feet
60: Climb:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15 60 feet

total of 6 rounds/checks total for accelerated climbing to reach the crows nest

As Mumbata crests the top of the crow's nest he can see that he is the first to reach the top. "ah well uit's not bust to be noticed but maby uit be fur da' bust."


Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

Siera looks at the others climbing and offers a helping hand to anyone approaching. Those who take it find a callused hand with an iron grip beneath it.

Don't worry there, lad, there be plenty o jobs in a ship like this. Specially for a sturdy man like yaself. Just keep calm and carry on. Sumday the c#+@@%@%@$s will get a real crew and drop us somewhere. Jas prove yaself useful. She claps the man's arm in camaraderie. But guess I'm preachin' to ta paladin right?

Looking down at the others approaching and having a hard time, she clenches her teeth and hopes that they don't fall.

A broken leg at'tis point is all they need to throw a sod in the waters.


(Male Mwangi Alchemist (Vivisectionist, Beastmorph) 2 AC 14/11/13 / HP 18/18 / F +5 R +4 W +3 / Init. +1 / Perc. +7)

As the sea's crest and trade winds blow, Mumbata turns to regard the first of the other press ganged members to the crow's nest. This be a friend or foe? Da white woman seems ah rught, but ah have seen slaves turn on each other quick as uh snake, best to ply it safe."Muh thunks to da. Siera be da num? Ah' I just gut lucky me' thunks." Running an apprising eye over the woman's physique, Mumbata can't help but be impressed. This is a woman who knows how to handle herself, that much is obvious from his time as a fighter, she has the same whipcord toughness as a sea worn plank or a belaying pin. Best to treat this one with caution, he thinks. "Yah shud ah been here furst, Mumbata thunks, I see da touch of da sea in ya."


Female Half-Elf Witch (Sea Witch) 2
Rorgrim Stormbeard wrote:

I noticed the players above didn't take their fall damage and start over on rolls of one. Is this not needed? If the fall isn't in effect, I am 20 feet up and I'll rage. If I take the damage, I begin cursing the rope,

Honestly, re-reading through the instructions, I think I may have misinterpreted them abit. The reverse your progress I took as fall 7 feet. Reading again I think I may have fallen at the 49' mark. So two questions for TarkXT. 1) Can you confirm if we fall. 2) Could we have taken 10 on the climb checks?


Male Orc Expert 5

Oh yes you definitely fall. You can make a reflex save (DC10) to catch yourself on the rigging but you'll take 1d6 nonlethal from the effort. IF you fail the save you fall the whole way down.


Female Half-Elf Witch (Sea Witch) 2

I assume no on the take 10 then? Diceroller, don't fail me now!

1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
1d6 ⇒ 4

1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
1d6 ⇒ 2

4d6 ⇒ (4, 5, 1, 4) = 14

That put's me at -8, with 6 non-lethal on top of that.

Reposting results:

1d20 ⇒ 17+7
1d20 ⇒ 7=7
1d20 ⇒ 6=7
1d20 ⇒ 11+7=14
1d20 ⇒ 12+7=21
1d20 ⇒ 18+7=28
1d20 ⇒ 7=28
1d20 ⇒ 11+7=35
1d20 ⇒ 13+7=42
1d20 ⇒ 17+7=49
1d20 ⇒ 5-7=42 Made check, 4 non-lethal
1d20 ⇒ 19+7=49
1d20 ⇒ 2-7=42 Failed check and fall, 2 non-lethal from attempt, 14 falling damage.
1d20 ⇒ 2-7=35
1d20 ⇒ 1-7=28
1d20 ⇒ 12+7=35
1d20 ⇒ 8=35
1d20 ⇒ 8=35
1d20 ⇒ 7=35
1d20 ⇒ 15+7=42
1d20 ⇒ 6=42
1d20 ⇒ 6=42
1d20 ⇒ 5-7=35
1d20 ⇒ 20+7=42
1d20 ⇒ 2-7=35
1d20 ⇒ 11+7=42
1d20 ⇒ 20+7=49
1d20 ⇒ 12+7=56
1d20 ⇒ 10+7=GOAL!!


F Stormborn sorceror(2), Halfling Female [AC 13, Current HP 2/10, F+1, R+2, W+5, Init +3,Perc+3]

Aaah. Then here is a bit of retcon for Lorn.
The first speedy attempt, Lorn managed almost made the 30' mark before losing her grip. A fearful cry escapes and is cut short with a solid thump on the deck. Nonlethal dmg1d6 ⇒ 4. Gasping to regain the wind that was knocked out of her and briefly watching the others progress, she rubs her leg and back a bit and makes for the rigging to once more attempt to climb, but at a slower steadier pace. As the others watched, it appeared as the wind tossed her off the rope at the 45' mark. Nonlethal dmg1d6 ⇒ 3 plus previous 3=1 hp dmg. "Oooow." A limping ~3' halfling reaches for the rope to once again climb. Her pace is greatly reduced but commentary from the crew and what amounts to encouragement from Mr Plugg just earns an obvious glare in return. She takes "10" to climb to the crow's nest. She does not hasten her pace despite, or rather in spite of, the devils wrath promised. She remains silent but thankful with the final assist to the crow's nest with the others. She takes a moment to brush off debris embedded into ther skin due to the previous two falls.


Male Orc Expert 5

So, looking at the results here is what happens.

Rhialla: Up in 5 rounds.
Sylvestra: Unconscious on the deck after a number of rounds.
Rorgrim: Up in 10 rounds.
Siera: 4.5

As Siera and Rhialla practically fly up the rigging the other struggle and the man with the whip curses and screams at them with little effect. When Siera is smiling down as Rhialla reaches the edge Mr. Plugg calls out.

"Enough! Gods above and below I've never seen a worse lot of scrambling in all my years! Get down! GET DOWN!"

Assuming you take ten on the way down.

Mr Plugg points at Siera. "You're a rigger now. Master Scourge!"

"Aye sir!" The man with the whip says.

"Put her to work!"

"Aye sir! On your feet scraggly wench and up that rigging. Thar be lines ta mend and sails ta patch!"

As master scourge drives the athletic woman up the rigging.

Mr. Plugg then points at all of you. "Can any of you cook?"

Do me a favor. To make things go quicker over the early course of the game roll me 20 d6's in your post.

EDIT: Also if you fell or took damage after 5 rounds it simply does not happen as you are called before making such a disastrous check.


Female Half-Elf Witch (Sea Witch) 2

1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 4
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 2
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 4
1d6 ⇒ 2
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 2


Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

Aye aye!

Siera takes one second look at Rhialla, admiring the woman's tenacity in the climb even though she displayed no rope training. Or it may just be she's admiring the buxom woman's curves like the rest of the crew.

d6 rolls::
20d6 ⇒ (4, 6, 3, 6, 3, 2, 6, 4, 6, 5, 6, 4, 4, 5, 1, 2, 1, 5, 3, 1) = 77


F Stormborn sorceror(2), Halfling Female [AC 13, Current HP 2/10, F+1, R+2, W+5, Init +3,Perc+3]

"I can survive my own cooking, but the crew may not." She stands at ease, no longer alarmed and much less inclined injure herself on behalf of the pressganged voyage for what amounts to the crew's entertainment. Her hands still twitch for her non-existant belt, followed by a grimace.
20 6rolls

Spoiler:

5 1d6 ⇒ 4 1d6 ⇒ 4 1d6 ⇒ 4 1d6 ⇒ 5 1d6 ⇒ 2
10 1d6 ⇒ 6 1d6 ⇒ 1 1d6 ⇒ 3 1d6 ⇒ 3 1d6 ⇒ 5
15 1d6 ⇒ 6 1d6 ⇒ 6 1d6 ⇒ 6 1d6 ⇒ 4 1d6 ⇒ 5
20 1d6 ⇒ 1 1d6 ⇒ 1 1d6 ⇒ 4 1d6 ⇒ 1 1d6 ⇒ 2


Reflex:

1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

Climb

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Subdual Dmg:

1d6 ⇒ 2

If I calculated right, 10 1/2 rounds with 12 dmg and 2 subdual at the top.


Sorry. Missed your post.

1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 2
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 4
1d6 ⇒ 4
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 2
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 4
1d6 ⇒ 2
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 6


Female Human Cleric 1

Noticing surprised an appraising look, Rhialla flashes a sly grin at the pwerfully built woman, then winks at the dwarf, obviously hearing his earlier comment.

rolls:
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 2
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 2
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 2
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 3


(Male Mwangi Alchemist (Vivisectionist, Beastmorph) 2 AC 14/11/13 / HP 18/18 / F +5 R +4 W +3 / Init. +1 / Perc. +7)

Guess I failed to understand the climb rolls, thought I reached the top first?

d6 Rolls:

1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 2
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 2
1d6 ⇒ 4
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 4
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 3
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 1
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 3


Male Orc Expert 5

I misread them I think. You get two climb checks in a round (as each is a move action) so yes you technically flew up there which is my fault. That being said do you really want the job when she's got the higher bonus? :)

Also is anyone going to answer his question other than the halfling?


Female Human Cleric 1

Rhialla looks for all the world as if the climb was refreshing rather than a test, a hint of humor twinkling in her eyes.

"Never had much of a need other than the odd fish on a spit. Shouldn't we be waking her up?" She indicates the fallen Sylvestra, an questioning expression seeking permission to check on the woman.


At Rhialla's wink, you see Rorgrim's gruff countenance soften for the first time. His bronze skin turns a light shade of red before he quickly regains his composure and responds to Mr Plugg:

Well o' course I can cook. Eyeball me. Rorgrim rubs his round Dwarvish belly. I can create some o' th' finest dishes in all o' th' Inner Sea. Me specialty be lobster bisque an' shark tartar.

This be a good chance to get me hands on some knives and maybe even a meat cleaver.

Rorgrim smiles at the thought.


(Male Mwangi Alchemist (Vivisectionist, Beastmorph) 2 AC 14/11/13 / HP 18/18 / F +5 R +4 W +3 / Init. +1 / Perc. +7)

No Tark, let's stay with how it worked out. Siera is better at climbing, and Mumbutu would realistically not want to be noticed or be marked out as above average at anything, so for RP purposes lets say that Mumbutu hung back and dident rapidly climb.

Mumbutu keeps his head lowered and dosen't say a word as the press ganged crew are questioned if they can cook. Cooking! Dat be ah job fur woman Mumbutu silently prays to da gods above and below dat he nut be picked. Besides ah dubt dat deh like monkey brains ur beetle paste as a meal.


Male Orc Expert 5
Rhialla "Buxom" Blackwater wrote:

Rhialla looks for all the world as if the climb was refreshing rather than a test, a hint of humor twinkling in her eyes.

"Never had much of a need other than the odd fish on a spit. Shouldn't we be waking her up?" She indicates the fallen Sylvestra, an questioning expression seeking permission to check on the woman.

No need, as she did not take any damage. Once Siera reached the top you were called down and could take ten on it if you chose. Will have update in a bit.


Female Half-Elf Witch (Sea Witch) 2

Ah, you edited a post too. Sneaky move, GM, sneaky move.

Having carefully climbed down the net, Sylvestra can't help shake the feeling that could've ended badly. She was glad most of the others were eying one of the others though.

TarkXT wrote:
Mr. Plugg then points at all of you. "Can any of you cook?"

The idea of being below deck wasn't appealing. Especially alone with who knows what in the galley. "I can try, didn't poison the whole crew last time." Not too far from the truth. Bad stores was the cause though.


Male Orc Expert 5

Staring down at the dwarf with a scowl Mr Plugg growls. "You're going to make us eat rock stew eh dwarf? Going to call that finest dishes? So be it! Report to the ship's cook cooks mate!"

One of the club holding men from earlier escorts the dwarf to the mess.

After that Mr. Plugg waves his cat at the rest of you. "And the rest of ya are swabs! Get yer assignment from the bosun's mate and get to work! Tis a hard days sailing and I'll personally let Master Scourge have his fun with any of ye caught slackin!"

The bosun's mate, to your surprise is a female gnome tanned almost brown by the sun and her dark purple hair turned nearly pink by the sun. Her teeny voice is almost laughable. If it weren't for the heavy axe carried on her back and the necklace of human ears she wears. She curses ever other sentence as she gives you your assignments and personal assurances that Master Scourge would hear all about any slacking.

Sylvestra is given the task of being a runner. She is given the job of running messages to and fro on the ship between decks and officers. However any message to the officer's cabins or the captain himself is given to the cabin girl. A full shift can be tiring and sylvestra needs to make a DC10 constitution check to prevent from being fatigued at the end of the shift.

Siera is given rope work to do this day. Coiling and uncoiling rope, stowing it, retrieving it, or otherwise handling it all day. She must make a dc 10 Profession Sailor check or dex check.

Rhialla is given the somewhat embarassing task of swabbing the decks. The action of being bent over and moving along elicits a few whistles and cat calls from some of the crew. She must make a dC10 strength or constitution check or be fatigued at the end of her shift.

Mumbata seems to have offended someone already. He is given the ugly task of cleaning out the bilges. He must make a DC12 strength check. In addition he must also make a DC10 constitution check or be fatigued at the end of the shift.

Rorgrim:
You are escorted below deck to the ship's mess and your hopes for arming yourself and hacking apart your tormentors are woefully dashed. The mess is a realm of perfectly ineffable chaos. There may be somethign you can use in all of the dirty dishes, piles of food, live chickens (!), at least three goats meander through here. Two stoves are along one wall and the worktables are piled up to the ceiling with stuff. But as Rorgrim looks closer he, yes, he does indeed spot a large and terrifying array of very sharp knives, meat cleavers, and terribly sharp implements that can cleave a skull as easy as it chops through bone. Soemthing groans amid the goats and the clubbed man curses.

"Oh gods he's done passed out again." Pushing the goats aside he prods a greasy sweaty mass on the floor. "GET UP FISHGUTS! You gots a bit a help now!"

The mass groans as the man pulls it up revealing a pudgy man about 5 foot tall wearing an apron stained in blood. He speaks in a thick shackles accent that's hard to follow and the flush of his stubbled fat cheeks and bleary gaze suggests that he's dosed himself rather heavily on the ship's rum. As he stands up a large black cockerel flaps up to is shoulder and peers down at you in that mindless almost reptilian way that birds do at a curious piece of food.

The man gives a small slap across the cooks cheek. "Come on man time to make the evenin meal! Don't make Master Scourge have ta beat ya again!"

Leaving the drunk man swaying and you with him he shakes his head. "Bleeding useless."

The man wobbles for what seems like an eternity before he blinks and stares down at you. "Oh hells they 'mpressed more souls into this 'ell? Besmara's arse! I 'spose you'll 'ave ta help me get things ready for tonight. Lots of mouths ta feed."

It doesn't take you long. Mostly you pass things he asks for to him as he points and he tosses them all in a large pot to boil together. More fish stew. Afterwards he throws himself in a corner and drags out another bottle of rum. and a pair of mugs. "Siddown mate. Been a while since I drank witta dorf."

You'll be able to take another ship action today I will explain those later.

In addition to the work you will be allowed to take a single ship action at this time (2 for rorgrim). That is an activity that takes up time you manage to squeeze in between work of which you have very little. What kind of actions you can take and when have been detailed under the campaign info.

1d100 ⇒ 59


Male Orc Expert 5

HAve to admit I find Mumbata's reaction amusing considering Rorgrim probably feels like he hit the jackpot right about now.


Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

Siera finds the hard work almost comforting, ridding her mind of impractical thoughts. She takes to wandering a little outside the direct route while stowing and retrieving rope coils, and finds some time to sneak around and explore the layout of the ship.

Profession (sailor) check: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17. Perception check: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22.


Tark:
Rorgrim sits down next to Fishguts and wipes his bloody hands on his filthy apron. He laughs to himself at his blind luck. I bet me partners be workin' the'r asses off topside. Besmara`s arse fer sure. She be gi'en me a wealday afternoon after all!

And I havent had a fine mug o' rum wi' a world renowned cook ever.. Rorgrim cheers the cook and then leans his head back and chuckles loudly before downing his mug.

So how did ye end up on th' Wormwood me hearty? Be ye press-ganged like me an' th' sorry lot I woke up wit' this morn?

Rorgrim pats Fishgut on the back and holds his mug out for another drink as he waits for his response.

JACKPOT

While assisting Fishguts in preparing dinner, Rorgrim takes a moment when he is going to retrieve some flower to sneak around.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

As he works diligently to assist Fishguts, Rorgrim uses his hardwork and jokes to influence him. How does that work? I want to earn his favor or learn a secret.


(Male Mwangi Alchemist (Vivisectionist, Beastmorph) 2 AC 14/11/13 / HP 18/18 / F +5 R +4 W +3 / Init. +1 / Perc. +7)

Oh thank da gods! Ah kitchen be no place for a mon. As the ship assignments are read off for the first time by the Bosun Mate, Mumbata trys not to let his growing distress at the assignment show. Ah yah, I gets it, dey puts da black mon at da bottom of da ship! Ah at least dare ain't no chains like da Ifirt... yet Mumbata quickly looks at Scourge from his peripheral vision. Plenty o' whip thou, and dat mon looks like eh likes da use it.

"Ok lady boss, wut evur jah needs." At that Mumbata grabs his shirt and boots that he previously stripped out of for climbing the rigging. Stowing it all under a coil of rope on deck Mumbata heads down below.

Rolls:

Strength:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Constitution:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Perception:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

Mumbata enters into the bilges for the first time, he is overcome with the rancid stench of old water, sewage and mold. "Wut a wunderful smell ya discuvered Mumbata! Well may ah wull take ah looks ah rund befur yah gets started." Ship Action: Sneak (Perception: Bildge) Grabbing a hold of the water crank, he slowly begins to pump the wheel over and over. "Dats rught Mumbata, just luk being on ah oar, gut into da rhythm"

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