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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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Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

Siera smiles at the halfling woman, recognizing a kindred spirit. She looks around at eye level, apparently not able to locate the source of the voice.

Ya guys hear something? It's like a voice out of somewhere talkin' smack. Whoever that is deserves to be put across a lap and spanked little a little girl!


Male Orc Expert 5

"I give ye a smack right up the side of ye bloated head!"

1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

With that Rosie rushes forward grabbing Siera by the leg and heaving upwards.

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20 CMB to trip.

OOF! Once more you get one AoO to try and save you from an even more embarassing fall.


Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

Siera smiles, puts her hands on her hips and brags about.

Ya have ta jump really hi-OOOF!

Attack of Opportunity - Trip Maneuver check: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

She has half a second to recognize she misjudged the halfling's agility and reach while she falls down the barrels. A booming laughter is then heard as she gets up from the fall.

Yer a good sport, short stuff., the woman says, offering her hand to the halfling.


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

”Ah, Giffer… Hugs thinks we is gonna be good friends. I need to tuck Hugs and I in, getting late for us old folk.” She pats Giffer’s hand, assists Hug waving his paw. Aww so Cuuuute. Wanders over to the crew betting on the next round of WBW [Wormwood Barrel Wrassl’n]. Discovering she can’t see through the crowd and unwilling to climb higher or unlikely to shove through, she stage whispers to Hugs, ”Next time, we’ll try to watch. Tired now.” She trudges to the cabin, tucks in Hugs and falls asleep in the swaying hammock, finally letting the rotgut rum take effect, no longer hearing the snores or distracting cheers from WBW.


Male Orc Expert 5

Will have a more appropriate update tommorrow. In the meantime for those who will be posting before that update go ahead and give me next day/night actions please.

With the halfling standing triumphant she takes down two more grown men before Conchabar, the gnome, gets on the barrels. He gets somewhat too friendly in the ensuing wrestling match, a punch is thrown and after he has to switch his eyepatch to a different eye the evening's entertainment is over.


Daytime: Finish investigating the galley
Perception 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7

Nighttime: Influence NPC (The half Orc watching our gear)
I be speaking to Mumbata and he said me gear bein in here is bad mojo. I must be takin it back so the evil spirit don't sink our ship.
Intimidate: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22


Male Orc Expert 5

@Rorgrim: Rorgrim finds nothing strictly of interest in the galley today though he knows theres bound to be more in this pile of junk. Nighttime will be pending later.

The next day comes and all of you are given your assignments once more. As you work, shirk, or do otherwise Mr. Plugg emerges from the hold carrying a long chain and a sadistic smile showing off perfect teeth.

Trailing behind him blinking against the blinding morning tropical sun is a very large and muscular man with a relatively vacant expression. His tanned muscles are covered in a black sticky substance and what appears to be the remnants of a number of chicken feathers.

The other pirates faces start to crack into variations of grin, sneer, and smile. The man sees this and his face breaks into its own version of stupid smile before yelling "CHICKEN'S ON DECK SPARE THE FRYERRSSS!!!"

Then the whole boat erupts in laughter as Mr. Plugg jingles the chain and carrying on with his own buffoonish laughter he starts to dance. Soon the whole crew is clapping in time with the strange spectacle.


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

The morning sees Lorn awakened with another day of shipwork. Hitching Hugs along her back, she accepts her assigned tasks with cheerful optimism and a wink. "C'mon Hugs, we'll make a sailor out of you yet." She pays no mind to the other working diligently with a constant one-sided conversational patter to Hugs and herself.

Lost in her own train of patter, she is finally realizing that all the others have ceased work. Sitting down, she puts Hugs on her lap and helps Hugs mime the dancing tarred man.

Day to work 1d20 + 1 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 1 + 4 = 24, Influence at night1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19 She'll just hang Giffer and associates. Inquires about the dancing man. Do the dice gawds favor Lorn yet again?


(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 sun rises and six bells are rung Mumbata shuffles ondeck with the rest of the motley crew. As he rises from the crews berthing he leans in towards Siera. Jah wun meh tun silver last nught, Jah huv muh thunks. As announcements are called and work is assigned for the day Mumbata compliantly knuckles his brow before turning to. Once things have settled in nicely he waits for the right moment before slinking off to explore a new area.

Perception 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

Later that evening as dinner and grog is being handed out amongst the crew Mumbata spy's the hulking man being lead up onto the deck in chains. Face growing hard, he makes out the iron shackles attached to the man. Remembering his own time onboard the Larcenous Ifirit and the scars, beatings and cruelty that he endured he vows once again to escape the Wormwood preferably burning it to the waterline in the process. Then as the brute of a man is forced to dance for the crew Mumbata can't help but cringe.
Dis be only da start, it's going da git worse.


Male Orc Expert 5

Where are the rest of me harpies!


I am here waiting.


Female Human Cleric 1

Rhialla takes in the spectacle, her eyes shifting from the buffoonery to the crew, marking those who seem to be enjoying the humiliation and those who seem to be uncomfortable or annoyed by it.

Coming up alongside the massive form of Mumbata she leans in.

"Looks like you know what's coming next."


Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

Siera approaches Rhialla and Mumbata, an inquisitive look in her eyes.

What the bloody f~~% is this s$&~? Is that giant retarded?


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

Lorn stops her dancing rat routine, dragging Hugs from his leash behind her, she addresses the Bos'n Mate Gnome, "He doesn't look the type to warrant a stay in the brig. What was his crime?"
Lorn's clothing is torn with some bilge slime still matted upon her hairy feet, the rat is starting to bloat up with no smell as yet, she is looking up at the gnome with non-chalance as well as watching the spectacle with curious indifference.
diplomancy 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17


Rorgrim looks on unimpressed with the spectacle.


Female Half-Elf Witch (Sea Witch) 2

Sylvestra watches on as the man is forced to dance, a slight smile in her face but hate in her eyes. After a moment, she instead goes to stand by the side of the ship, listening to the waves and the wind. The sea called to her, a desire to simply leap overboard. Instead she waits.

Day action, sneak somewhere Sylvestra hasn't been yet. Night action, continue to work with Pluck.

Perception (Day): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13
Sea Empathy (Night): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19


Male Orc Expert 5

Plugg's manic grin and shaking of the chain both seem to increase as the man dances more frantically his stupid breathy laughter only seeming to excite the other sailors more finally as the man leaps clapping his hands Mr. Plugg yanks hard on the chain and the man slams face first into the deck to a hearty laugh from the crew. The man takes a second to get back up clearly in pain. But as he looks up to see the smiling faces he grins widely and lets out another strange outburst.

"Owlbears a fallin! Must be time for napsies!"

He sits up and shakes his head as if to try and remove the cobwebs from them while Mr. Plugg's face goes from amusement to dead seriousness. He turns suddenly causing some of the crew to flinch as he points wildly.

"Right which one of ye scurvy foul smelling dog wants ta go one on one with ma pet Owlbear today?!?"

@Lorn: The gnomish woman smiles sadistically. "That be the Owlbear. Some circus fool Mr. Plugg caught a year er so back. Just exists fer our amusement now. First mate likes to take him out on occasion."


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

As Rhialla and Siera move up towards Mumbata he leans in close and whispers under his breath. Fughting, dat be what. Humiliation in da name of making Plugg da big man. Un it reminds da rest o' da crew dat there always be sum un lower den day are. Gods below da ah hate dis ship. Dis be sumethink I know ah thing ah two about. Gods, I don't want to be noticed, I never wanted da be hur. But if noone fights him den who knows what will happen. Plugg will probably pick Lorn just to see her hurt. Gods, you gave me the strength to make it though da Ifirt, give me the strength to make it through dis.

Sighing in resignation, Mumbata steps forward, stripping his shirt off revealing a patchwork of scars created from years of abuse. Rolling his neck with a loud Crack the Mwangi pops his knuckles and takes a deep breath. Ja, I'll fught Bo'sun. But if ah wun, Ja give me back mah gear and da rest of da crew ah extra share of da Grog to'nough? Ja entertainment won't be cheap tonight ja bastard.


Male Orc Expert 5

Mr. Plugg snarls. "I'm not in the business of gambling the capn's booty swab! And all men aboard the wormwood get rum freely if ye ask!" Mr. Plugg reaches behind him on his belt and drops a jangling leather bag on deck. "If it be a prize ye seek that be all you're getting. If that's not enough you can step yourself back!"


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

Mumbata slowly nods. Aye Bo'sun, dat be fair. How bout ah luttle sude wadager den? Ah win ah gets da clink and da Lorn dunt work da bildges anymore. Ah loose, da coin yours and I wurk da bildges every day till we makes port. What jou thunk?


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

Oh no. What have ye wrought?! Treading a fine line of daily wagon rides, now the wheels are about to fall off. Must I stay IC? I must. About the only saving grace is the fact it is foul-tasting rotgut rum. She does have some standards...

Lorn is about to ask Boats another question when her ears perk up... Mr.Plugg

Quote:
Blah blah blah rum freely if ye ask!

Curious indifference has been replaced by anticipatory yearning, rapt attention. "Boats, has anyone won against the napping Owlbear?"


Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

Siera approaches discreetly the large man, whispering on his ear:

Mumbata, that f+@#er is huge. But he seems slow and leans on his left side. Try blindsiding him, ang get it a good kick in his tiny balls or punch to the kidneys, right here - she then touches a firm hand against his side.

Take care big guy. I want you back in one piece with all the attached members still attached.

Then she moves to the side of the crowd, starting the cheer:

GO 'HEAD, MUMBATA, KICK THIS F$%~ER'S TINY LITTLE BALLS TILL HE CAN TASTE HIS OWN PISS DOWN HIS THROAT!


Male Orc Expert 5

An no magic tricks!" Speaks up Fipps Chumlett. "The un dere can make himself grow as big as a horse Mr. Plugg!"

Mr. Plugg. "Aye! No magic tricks or I'll personally deliver some magic of my own! To yer backside! Bare hands only until one of ye is left standin! Do we have an accord swab!?!"


Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

Bare hands?, Siera repeats, looking at Mumbata and awaiting for his response.


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

Mumbata nods slowly in understanding, beads in his dreadlocks clinking as he acknowledges Plugg. Ah diden't ave da majaiks on da Ifirt, so ut makes no dufference. As Mumbatas steps forward he lays a hand on Siera's meaty shoulder and for the first time she notices the layers and layers of calluses upon his hands. They are like driftwood after years of weathering, hard and strong. Improved Unarmed Strik Aye Bo'sun, nuw boons, nuw curses. Just ma fists agunst his... nuthing more.

Was really hoping to use my Mutagen! Oh well.


Female Human Cleric 1

Rhialla gives Mumbata a wink, flashing him a dazzling grin.

"Kick his crazy ass!"


Female Half-Elf Witch (Sea Witch) 2

Over by the deck, Sylvestra watches the scene unfold. She didn't like this, not with the way the crew behaved. Mumbata was strong, but she knew not what this man was capable of. She didn't want to tip her hand if she could help it, but if it became necessary....

Sylvestra is going to keep Daze ready if necessary, but only if it looks like Owlbear is going to kill Mumbata (maiming is acceptable). She's going to look for a spot to stand where she may not be noticed casting, if possible.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20


Male Orc Expert 5

Initiative:

1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15 Mumbata
1d20 - 1 ⇒ (10) - 1 = 9 Owlbear

As the two of you get in te center of the gathering of sailors it hasn't quite seemed to occur to owlbear that ou are fighting yet even as words of KILL HIM! or RIP HIS THROAT OUT! come from the crowd. He merely grins stupidly at you as you prepare to cave his face in...


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

With a resolved nod Mumbata steps forward. Gods da I hate dis ship. Six months ago dat was meh on da Ifirt. But better me den Lorn.


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

Rolling for sneak attack damage since he hasn't acted yet this combat (flat-footed) Tark

Surrounded by the yelling of sailors and the smell of grog, tar and sweat, Mumbatas eyes flash with a hard grey light. Best da get dis over with quick. Flashing out towards the giant of a man like the last glimmers of sunset on the sea Mumbatas fist streaks in at Owlbear.

Attack Roll 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Damage Roll 1d3 + 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (1) + (5) + 4 = 10


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

"Boats, may the crew have some rum to properly watch this fight in a celebration of sort. I'll run get the cook and cook assistant. Let them know they're missing out on the action." Lorn picks up Hugs and skips toward the lower deck to the galley. Humming an old chorus...
"Because the old black rum's got a hold on me
Like a dog wrapped round my leg
And the old black rum's got a hold on me
Will I live for another day?
Hey, Will I live for another day?...

Ohh Rorgrim, theresagonnabeafight."

What lovely time to disappear, find out where Owlbear was stashed. She will ask the cook when the rum barrels are tapped. Maybe he'll know. Diplomacy?1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15


Male Orc Expert 5

Update coming tommorrow


Male Orc Expert 5

The cook looks down at the halfling as he's refilling his own pint. Taking down a pint he grunts as he passes the full mug to Lorn.

Welp, not everyday you have characters die of alcohol poisoning. Now where were we? Oh yeah getting punched in the face.

It takes a moment for the OWlbear to register he's been hit. Then touching the blood that starts to gush from his now broken nose. He roars in pain and lashes out with a haymaker aimed in Mumbata's direction.

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14 Attack
1d3 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5 Damage

Mumbata is too slow to effectively dodge out of the way and is rewarded with a dizzying blow to the head that makes his ears ring.


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

(Current Hp: 6/11)

With a loud crack Mumbata reels from the Owlbears blow. Taking a half step back he shakes his head, his dreadlocks swinging to and fro. Sury big mon, der aint uhnurther way. Mumbata mutters as he steps into Owlbears guard, his fist snapping out.

Attack Roll 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Damage Roll 1d3 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6


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

Been keeping an eye on this thread, only recently did it decide to update for me. Curious.

Smacking her lips appreciatively as the left side of her face spasms, "Oh. Bracing...."

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she eyeballs the unwashed cook looking for visible miasma that seems to ooze from him. Her eyes watering from the mephitic staleness or the rotgut, she isn't quite sure. She takes a halfling step back. "Talk to me, Cookie. Why would you not enjoy spectating the big fight with Owlbear like the rest of the crew. Is the end result already assumed?

Swishing a mouthful of rum causes her whole face to twitch this time, followed by a head to toe shudder. I daresay, the hairs on her foot have become tightly curled. "Ohhh thish'll be painful come nightfall.

I'll assume a fort check is requested along with a diplo attempt.
A one pint Fort 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
Diplo 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
*Edit: Yeah, Lorn simply cannot hold her liquor. She will be smashed at end of the pint. That'll teach her to be dippo, dpil, dimatic, friendly-like with the cook.


Male Orc Expert 5

Kroop shrugs and belches hard scratching a slightly exposed hairy belly. Obviously lost in his own drunken stupor.

Meanwhile uptop Owlbear starts to look a touch afraid. It's obvious to all that Mumbata isn't just a dockside tough but someoen truly lethal to contend with. Mr. Plugg tosses a club to owlbear who almost absentmindedly catches it out of the air and desperately brings it around to barely miss Mumbata's head.

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
1d6 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4


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

Scowling, Mumbatas eyes take on a hard glint as he glances as Plugg casually throw the club to Owlbear. Just da fists muh ass! Un day uh'll see him swinging with da crows on da yard-arm. Gritting his teeth Mumbata narrowly ducks from the swinging club, darting into strike at Owlbear again.

Attack Roll 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Damage Roll 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6


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

As Mumbata's fist lashes out at Owlbear he spits onto the deck of Wormwood, eyes following the sweep of the club held in Owlbears meaty fist and praying that Owlbear dosen't get a lucky hit and bash his brains out. Dis be all Pluggs fault! He forced us to dis. Bleed'un for his whims. Un if not meh den he would'a pucked un o' da wumun! Looking into Owlbears eyes Mumbata begins to see the fear slowly building within the big man and this whole fight just makes him more angry. Jah made un Accord, Plugg! Ur ah gods dammed cheater un ah breaker uh da code, un jah forced uh simple man to ya be ur slave cuz jah could. May Besmara un all da gods above un below curse jah name!


I thought 't be bare hands only. I guess some be havin' t' cheat t' win Mumbata!
Rorgrim calls out angry at the turn of events. I wish I had me hammer t' crack th' skull o' that son o' a b@*!$ Plugg.


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

"Hey. Kroop. Where. Is. Rorgrim?" Making sure she is pronouncing the words and only now realizing the answer is on deck, not below. Without waiting for an answer from Kroop, she heads back up to the festivities. This time, using the handrails and dragging Hugs by its leash, still nursing her pint. "Gotta tell Rorgrim about the fight."


Female Human Cleric 1

Rhialla watches the fight, anger flashing in her eyes as she draws Besmara's power to her. Plugg had no respect for the law of the sea, pitting crew against crew.

Spoiler:
Held action to channel energy the second Mumbata takes another hit1d6 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2


Male Orc Expert 5

Bleeding from every orifice around his head the Owlbear cries out in pain and fear as Mumbata is soundly and decisively beating his ass. Crying and yowling like a hurt dog he drops the club and tries to escape Mumbata only to be pushed back towards him by Mr. Plugg and the crew.


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

Looming over Owlbear, Mumbata looks past him towards Plugg and his cronies. Uf de want da see ut finished den dey bout da be disupointed. All dey want is blood and da see ah big mon hurt 'ore. Guds beluw take um' Stepping back towards the knot of his friends in the crowd, Mumbata lowers his guard and addresses the mass of sailors. Da' fut's gune outta hum, ah beat um, jah all saw ut as he trued da run. Looking at the beaten, bleeding and bruised man Mumbata felt a moment of sadness. It wasn't he first time he had seen that look on another mans face. But he knew when a man was beat and he wouldn't hurt a man just for the sake of hurting him. Too many years on the Ifirit had taught him the difference between right and wrong, weakness and strength. It wasn't weakness to let a man walk free and just because it might be the harder path didn't mean it was the right one. Stepping forward towards Owlbear, Mumbata holds out his hand as if to shake it. Ut' was ah good fut big mon, jah mught ah hud me. Surry bout dat first un, ah though jah were rudy.


Male Orc Expert 5

The crowd continues to egg the fight on but as it seems Owlbear has given up the fight in favor of living. With a surprised and almsot grateful look in his blackened and bloodied eyes the huge man holds a shaking hand out to mumbata plaintively perhaps mistaking the gesture that mumbata is making.

As the crowd starts to jeer and boo at what is apparently an unsatisfactory ending Mr. Plugg yanks back on Owlbears chain and mercilessly kicks the man a few times cursing unintelligibly and dragging him back below deck to further anguished howls and sobbing from the large man known as owlbear. Almost as an afterthought the first mate hurls the bag of coins to Mumbata.


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

Catching the bag of coins Mumbata picks up his discarded shirt and saunters over to the small knot of shipmates that he trusts. Stoically he takes the congradulations and slaps on the back with polite smiles and respectful nods before moving through the group towards the gunwale. Once he has a moment of peace he takes a deep breath and the shaking starts. Anger, frustration and disgust roil within his stomach. Jah made urself ah turget tonught. Uf Plugg dudent notice jah befur, nuw he dues. Jah took his guld, beat his mon un kupt Lorn outta da bilges. Ur ah dud mon. Taking several deep breaths he starts to calm himself down. Hands no longer shaking so much that he can't reach into his belt pouch and withdraw a blue vial that he uncorks and swallows the contents of.

Cure Light Wounds: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

As his wounds start to knit back together Mumbata thinks back to the fight versus Owlbear. Jah spuke up mon! Suven years un da Ifirit un jah knuw dat da only way da survive is da ider stay outta sight ur make sure dat un da blade falls jah gots sumone da watch jah back. Rising as the last dregs of flash backs from fighting on the Larcenous Ifirit subside Mumbata moves over to the Wormwoods railing. Looking out over the sea Mumbata picks up the sack of coins and opens the bag to examine the contents. As a afterthought he grabs a handful of coins and toesses them into the sea as a sacrifice to the gods. The sacrifice and prayer for blessings done Mumbata heads back down to the Main Deck where the nights festivitys are in full swing. As the moves along the outskirts he keeps his eye out for Rhialla and when he spots her he motions for her to come over to his private corner of the deck.


Female Human Fighter (Unarmed Fighter) 1

Siera follows the big man out of the fight, feeling rather sorry for the whole situation.

That looked more like a freak show than a fight. Where did they find that guy?

Mumbata? Are ya ok?


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

As Mumbata hurled the handful of coins out into the deep blue sea he watched as they splashed into the water. The shaking was gone now and his wounds were healed. That was good. Mumbata instinctually knew that on a ship like the Wormwood you couldn't let weakness show. Dis ship be crew'd bah scaven'gers. Dey wuld strike da mument deh saw uh weakness. Hupfully deu saw da fight as me defying Plugg, nut being soft.

Hearing the steps behind him Mumbata braces himself, half expecting that Plugg sent several of his lapdogs to teach the "uppity" witch-mon a lesson. Heaving a sigh of relief at the sound of Siera's voice some of the tension leaves him. Keeping his eyes to the horizon and leaning foward against the gunwale he motions for the tiny, fierce woman to join him. Ah seen jah fight befure in da bilges. Jah know how da use jah fists. sighing, in a quiet voice the belies the strength and mass of the man, Mumbata continues. Wull so do ah. Says the rugged muscular witch-doctor. Dis aint be da furst ship ah been un. Un it ain't da furst un were ah was furced da fught, jah seen mah scars. Seven years ah was lashed to ah oar, night afuter night fughting un da deck fur da Packmasters pleasure, un ah swear to da guds, ut made da Wormwood look good! Siera... Ah was wut Owlbear is. Being dere, in da ring with da yells, da blood, da pain. It was luk ah was un da Ifirit again. As ah saw Plugg kicking da helpless mon, ah hated him. But nuw he knuws about mah. Ah knuw his type. Ah tuk hus gold, beat his mon, un kupt Lorn outta da bilges. He wun't forget ut. Un hull make me pay. Shuttering, Mumbata looks back towards the crew on deck. We gutta get off uh hur befure ut kills us. Nuw common ah gutta fund Rhialla befure everyone huds beluw fit da nught.


Female Human Cleric 1

Moving through the dispersing crowd Rhialla comes up alongside Mumbata and Siera.

"You did good. I know that must've been hard but it's not your fault. It's that bastard Plugg, has no idea how to treat a crew. Besmara'll have the bastard's bones yet."

Laying a hand on the big man's side she whispers a brief word

Burning Disguise self for CLW. 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9


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

Gripping the beautiful woman's wrist with a light grasp Mumbata motions to himself. Ah be fine. He indicates to himself. Ut ain't me ah be wurry about. Leaning in close so that none but Rhialla and Siera can hear him Mumbata wispers. Ut's Owlbear. Ah beat hum real ard' un da make mutters wurse Plugg started kicking hum un jah deck. Healing bellow deck when ur in his shape... Mumbata trails off recalling being dragged down to Ali Al'Zharid each night following his fights on the Ifirit Mah big mon be down un ah hard way. Ah owe ut to da mon da see hum better. Ut least enough dat he cun survive da night. Dats why ah need jah Rhialla. Wull jah hulp meh?


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

KA-Thunk... Kathunk... Lorn pulls up Hugs the rotting rat up to the last step, grinning with satisfaction over her oh-so clever ruse of unstableness. Now to find Rorgrim, turning to face a very grim-faced Mr Plugg and a beaten cowed Owlbear. "Gosh wha.. I mean who won? Don't step on Hugs!" Scampering stumbling out of the way, barely yanking the rat before being crushed or torn loose from her grasp, the remaining rum is lost.

Dusting off her dirty clothes as if trying to put on airs, "Wonder where they're going?" She pauses at the top of the ladder, catching a brutal kick delivered to an already bloodied Owlbear. Looking at Hugs, "Yeah I know, we just got to the top. You may soon prove useful." Last glance at the rum seeping into the wooden deck, she grabs the hand rail to keep her steady and climbs on down to follow the sounds of a experienced pummeling and mockery of already broken soul.

Staying out of sight, not wanting to attract the least bit of attention of a master bully with unquestioned authority. She stays to the shadows, moving from stowed gear to ship's rib until Owlbear's cell is located. She will seek or make a hidey hole until Mr.Plugg departs.
stealth 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25

team:
Hey guys, not trying to solo here. Really. She is a glass pistol. Likely she'll earn a whipping, but she was very surprised about Owlbear and wants to know where he has been kept. It indicates a part of the ship we have not been too. Lorn was paying attention to you guys comparing notes at night, but had nothing to add being concerned about being an example yet another day.

Edit: Spell correction and HOLYSMokes a Nat 20!

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