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Tark's Skull and Shackles: Feversea Swashbucklers (Inactive)

Game Master Tark the Ork

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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.

Female Gnome Druid 1

Still groggy and trying to rub the dull pain away from the back of her head, Kess slowly remembers taking a blow to the head by an unseen assailant as she was having her ale dockside. Did they follow me from the Formidably Maid? I may need to drink less next time... if there is a next time.
Quickly taking in the situation at a glance initially, then with a slightly longer look at the Goblin in the group, she begins to rise and make her way slowly toward her captor, hands held up in compliance.
"At least toss the Goblin over the rail, the filthy creatures are prone to burning things. A safe work environment agrees with my health, and an uncooked gnome remains a hard-working gnome."

Male Human (Varisian) Bard (Sea Singer) 4
Character Information:
[HP: 32]; [Armor Class: 16 Touch: 12; Flat Footed: 14]; [BAB: +3; CMB: +4 (+6 Trip); CMD: 16 (18 v. grapple, 18 v. overrun, 20 v. trip)]; [Saves: Fortitude: +2; Reflex: +6; Will: +4 (+4 bonus vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone)]; [Initiative: +2]; [Perception: +7 (+9 with familiar within arms reach)]

As the light pierces the gloom, Randall grabs the sides of his head just to make sure the pieces are all there and in there proper place. Feeling the swaying of the floor underneath him and seeing the mass of bodies, unconscious, around him one thought springs to mind through the alcoholic fog surrounding his brain "Pressganged," taking a closer look at the poor unfortunates around him "And they didn't seem too particular about who they grabbed."
An optimistic voice inside his head states "Well, you wanted to get back to sea as soon as possible, didn't you?" Another, more cautious voice echoes "Yeah, but this wasn't what you had in mind, was it?" The first voice affirms "Yeah, but there's nothing you can do about it now. Better just roll with it and see what happens. There'll be plenty of time to sort things out later."

Bracing himself by holding on to an overhead beam, Randall manages to croak out in a hoarse voice "Beggin' your pardon, Mister ...? But what ship this be?"

In his dreams, Mugwort was holding the largest gun he'd ever seen, a glistening thing of metal and fire and death. It trembled beneath his gobbish touch, throbbing with the pent-up energy it so longed to release. He touched the trigger, caressing it lovingly before pulling on it, long and hard and smooth....


The snap of the whip over his head made Mugwort jump three feet into the air, coming down in an awkward crouch and growling loudly. Seeing his surroundings, and the mass of longshanks bodies, for a brief moment he thinks he has killed them all and the pride causes his blood to flow. Then they start moaning and waking up and he realizes he's a prisoner and unarmed and unarmored and UNARMED!!! His precious gun, his loving cannon of delight is gone?!? He starts to slump, but the whip catches him again. He stands up straight, snarling at the whip snapper, and growling when the hated gnome suggests he be tossed into the water.

"Filthy gnome! Mugwort mighty warrior! Mugwort not afraid of silly gnome!" he snarls, at least until the gnome turns toward him and he cowers and whimpers a bit before recovering his dignity and attempting to regain his dignity. Failing that, he shuffles toward the light, keeping his head down and already plotting his eventual escape and heroic murdering of the whip snapper...

Male Half-Elven Swashbuckler Lvl1 HP 9/9 INIT+4 AC 16 CMB+2 CMD+16 Rapier (+5 to Att) 1d6+2/18-20x2 Short Bow (+4 to Att) 1d6+2/x3 Saves: F+0 R+6 W+0

Dull, muted tones begin to pulse in his ears, gradually sharpening into clarirty. Eyes squinting open to shield the daggers of light that feel like they are piercing into his brain.

This is not too uncommon a morning as of late, the sense of swaying, the feeling of the floorboards hard against his face casting the impression of their grain in his cheek, all so far fairly normal.


Eyes widening despite the pain. No lovely, or not so lovely maiden, in fact many more people than usual. Oh no, not in the street again.


Almost feeling its bite this time his reflexes kick in and he jolts upright, pressing his back against a supporting beam, as his hand grabs at his side ... "What, no weapon ... nothing but loose cloth about his chest." he takes in the room and lowers his head as it throbs in pain. He's found the basement below hitting bottom.

He brings his dehydrated body to a reluctant stand.

"Right" as he locks eyes in thin defiance with his antagonist. He glances briefly at his fellow captives and thinks,"At least I'm not the runt of the litter, it'll have to be hard work and skill that separates me from the plank over these poor souls, thankfully there is no barbarian brute to overshadow finesse with brute force. May their hides also be saved, favor us all Besmara."

male Human Rogue (Pirate) 1

...Riven could hardly believe his luck. He had Rhialla, as buxom a wench as one could be; bouncing on his lap and she giggled everytime he pinched her ripe behind, his mug was full of dark rum and he had a stack of coins piled on the table in front of him with a flush hand of cards...


...where dat light be coming from? and why does me head feel plugged tight and sore, it is?...

A sharp nudge to his ribs brought him fully awake and he realized his dreams were indeed, too good to be true. He caught every word the man behind the light said and swore aloud.

Damn! Landlocked and windless, it is!.. Cap'n Harrigan huh?

He didnt even bother reaching for weapons that he knew werent there just by the absense of their weight. He groggily stood up with the poor bastards and prepared himself. least dey didnt put us in chains...

Male Human, dual talent Hedgewitch 3

"Yes Sir" Ryzern is up and close enough to presentable before his brain catches up with current events. [b]Wait where's my..! He stammers as his stomach and pain centers report in. Helped a tad by the club to the waistcoat.

Behind the pain his brain worked and assimilated.
Strangers, drugged. Pressgang. Head down and pray they're not slavers.

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."

Male Half-Elven Swashbuckler Lvl1 HP 9/9 INIT+4 AC 16 CMB+2 CMD+16 Rapier (+5 to Att) 1d6+2/18-20x2 Short Bow (+4 to Att) 1d6+2/x3 Saves: F+0 R+6 W+0

Not sure what your preference is on rolls spoliers, etc - putting them in spoiler form for now, let me know.

1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17

The cool wind on Alistair's face and the sweet scent of salt air filling his lungs help to clear his head snd ease the pain. He thinks to himself,"Hmm, that's funny ... nutmeg?".

1d20 + 0 ⇒ (7) + 0 = 7

But he can't quite piece it together.

1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Locking eyes with Mr. Plugg as he steps towards him, face expressionless,"Duphrane, Alistair Duphrane." he says coldly, resignation and a hint of despair in his voice.

As he steps past him and onto the next 'recruit' he scans the ship and the men. Besides the officers that clearly stood out, any trouble makers? Any signs of what type of voyage this might be ... assuming that we aren't on a trading run.

1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

Male Human, dual talent Hedgewitch 3

Rorgrim? Dwarf? Methinks the gm started early on the grog.

Wave of dice checks:

Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
kn. Nature 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Intelligence 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
Slight of hand to hide compartment in leg 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Slight of hand to hide arcane bonded ring 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Well that went as well as I expected.

Hmmm Oil of Taggit. Someone has money to burn.

As Plugg approaches Ryzern caresses th plain copper ring.
They missed this. May not know I'm a Wizard. Time to fall back on boot-licking and blatant falsehoods. Til I learn what they know.

"Ryzern. Late of the Virgin of Westcrown"

Male Orc Expert 5

Or needs to learn how to properly copy paste again. *sigh*

1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

A sad lightness and hollow in your step indicates that yes, this too was taken. Thankfully however it seems no one took your ring.

Male Human, dual talent Hedgewitch 3
TarkXT wrote:

Or needs to learn how to properly copy paste again. *sigh*


** spoiler omitted **

Wow! bad rolls all around. Post edited.

Female Gnome Druid 1

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
Knowledge (Nature): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9
Intelligence Check: 1d20 ⇒ 8

Kess takes in her surroundings as she answers Mr. Plugg. "I'm known as Kess the Osprey in Port Peril, mostly I hire myself out as an expeditionary guide but I know my way around a ship just the same."

Male Human (Varisian) Bard (Sea Singer) 4
Character Information:
[HP: 32]; [Armor Class: 16 Touch: 12; Flat Footed: 14]; [BAB: +3; CMB: +4 (+6 Trip); CMD: 16 (18 v. grapple, 18 v. overrun, 20 v. trip)]; [Saves: Fortitude: +2; Reflex: +6; Will: +4 (+4 bonus vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone)]; [Initiative: +2]; [Perception: +7 (+9 with familiar within arms reach)]

Perception check: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21
Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18
Intelligence check: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

Breathing deep of the fresh air Randall begins to make sense of the situation as the world, and his head, begin to slow their spinning. Smacking his dry lips together he tastes the distinct aftertaste of nutmeg on his tongue. Putting two and two together he realizes how he had gotten into this predicament "Somebody slipped me a Mickey. Oil of Taggit, I believe.' Randall looks around the crew to see if anyone's face rings a bell but is unable to identify anyone in particular, shrugging his shoulders he continues to himself "Oh, well it beats the alternative of having a bag thrown over my face and being beaten unconscious."

As the pair approach, Randall straightens himself up into something resembling attention. "Time to make nice, nice." "Randall McNally, late of Riddleport, Mr Plugg, sir."

male Human Rogue (Pirate) 1

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

Knowledge/Nature: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

Following along behind the others; Riven smacked his lips and hawked up some phlem to spit. The oyster carried the taste of nutmeg but he couldnt remember eating any muffins the night before.

...what'n makes ye think ye was out for only one night lad?...

He didnt feel any lumps on his bald head either so his first thought was that they had magic'd him. He eyed the gathered crowd of cut-throats with an equally evil grin and wondered which one was packing the whollop that had laid him low

...dar be a damn sorcerer about, it is...

Intelligence: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

No one stood out though, well excepting the capt'n; and he made sure not to pay attention to that bear of a man.

...Da Womrwod huh?...never 'eard of it but it looks right sharp and mite seaworthy. Hope dese other lugs are up to snuff. Some will surely end up as shark bair d'oh...

He focused on the other fools lined up with him and their names as they spoke them and sounded out loudly with his own when it was time.

I be Riven Roger sir! but me mates call me Jolly.

Mugwort already hates this place. Longshanks everywhere, smelly, dirty longshanks who reek of nutty smells and sweat. Not even a proper goblin smell, like fire or pig.

The goblin scowls when the "Captain" talks and scowls even deeper when the man says no murder. 'How is Mugwort supposed to become Mighty Captain Mugwort if no murder?' It truly boggles the mind.

Still, when the man with the many tailed whip calls for names, he mutters in a low voice, "Me am Mugwort. Mighty Goblin!" He growls for good measure and shows his teeth at the man in a gesture of goblish respect.

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). You may make a DC10 reflex save to prevent yourself from falling to the deck but still take 1d6 nonlethal.

Mugwort leaps to the rigging, finally seeing a way to escape the smell of longshanks!

Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24 7 feet
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10 14 feet
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15 21 feet
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15 28 feet
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22 35 feet
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22 42 feet
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24 49 feet
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14 56 feet
Climb: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 60 feet!
6 and a half rounds!

Male Half-Elven Swashbuckler Lvl1 HP 9/9 INIT+4 AC 16 CMB+2 CMD+16 Rapier (+5 to Att) 1d6+2/18-20x2 Short Bow (+4 to Att) 1d6+2/x3 Saves: F+0 R+6 W+0

Alistair looks up at the rigging towering above him, the crow’s nest swaying back and forth by several feet  as the ship rocks atop the mild surf. The conditions are fair, at least that’s something positive.

Despite what the captain said about not having enough men, Alistair would rather not test that assumption. His ambition kicking in, he wants to prove himself … the better to get the choice positions and provisions aboard ship. Rather than racing up and risk looking foolish falling in front of the others he makes his way steadily.

Climb 1: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19 7 feet

Climb 2: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26 14 feet

Climb 3: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16 21 feet

Climb 4: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14 28 feet

Climb 5: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22 35 feet

Climb 6: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11 42 feet

Climb 7: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8 49 feet

Climb 8: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22 49 feet

Climb 9: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23 56 feet

Climb 10: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17 60 feet

Locking his legs at the top of the rigging to secure himself, he feels the dry salty burn of the ropes in his hand. From his vantage point he scans the horizon to see if he can make any sense of where he might be, that is if he can make out anything at all.

Knowledge(local):1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

Male Human, dual talent Hedgewitch 3

DC of the climb checks? Ships rigging listed as dc10 in prd so using that


1.Climb 1d20 ⇒ 12 7ft
2.Climb 1d20 ⇒ 13 14ft
3.Climb 1d20 ⇒ 16 21ft
4.Climb 1d20 ⇒ 18 28ft
5.Climb 1d20 ⇒ 13 35ft
6.Climb 1d20 ⇒ 19 42ft
7.Climb 1d20 ⇒ 8 Pause for a breather
8.Climb 1d20 ⇒ 11 49ft
9.Climb 1d20 ⇒ 9 Untangle peg-leg from rat-line
10.Climb 1d20 ⇒ 12 56ft
11.Climb 1d20 ⇒ 20 60ft

Ryzern rests in the crow's nest shading his eyes against the sun. Knowing there is not much hope as their captors would not have sent them aloft if there was anything to see Ryzern none the less scans for anything that might give a clue as to where we are.

Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22. Kn.Geography, untrained 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Male Orc Expert 5

Yeah it's 10 sorry.

male Human Rogue (Pirate) 1

With Sure Grasp Riven gets to make two climb checks and take the highest. Going for accelerated DC 15.

rd 1) Climb 1 - 1d2 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 - Climb 2 - 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14 0'

rd 2)Climb 1 - 1d2 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 - Climb 2 - 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23 15'

rd 3)Climb 1 - 1d2 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9 - Climb 2 - 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15 30'

rd 4) Climb 1 - 1d2 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 - Climb 2 - 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21 45'

rd 5) Climb 1 - 1d2 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 - Climb 2 - 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18 60'

Aye, aye boss man!

He wasted no time making his way to the bottom of the rigging next to the other poor louts.

An 'ere I thought they would give us a right decent challenge heh. You boys aint scared of heights is you?

It took the grinning pirate a half second to shake the cobwebs out of his addled head but once he got to climbing he was almost simian in how easily he flew up the ropes.

Hey now, look alive down dere lads! Last one up eats da rotten egg!

Female Gnome Druid 1

I have profession (Sailor) does that add to my climbing ability for ships rigging?
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8 No Progress.
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 1 = 14 5'
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 Reflex save to avoid falling: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3 Damage (Non-Lethal): 1d6 ⇒ 5

After slipping and falling from the rigging merely 5' above the deck, Kess looks sheepishly at Mr. Plugg. "I might not be well suited for the Crow's Nest, Mr. Plugg. I am a sailor by trade, just not a very acrobatic one. Perhaps another ship duty?"
She picks herself up.

Male Orc Expert 5


Hanging high above the deck on the rigging, Mugwort spares a glance back at the gnome. "Ha ha ha! Stupid gnome stick to digging holes in mud! Ha ha!" he calls out in a loud voice. He nearly falls out of the rigging with his careless laughter and must immediately cling to the ropes like a frightened monkey before regaining his footing.

Male Human (Varisian) Bard (Sea Singer) 4
Character Information:
[HP: 32]; [Armor Class: 16 Touch: 12; Flat Footed: 14]; [BAB: +3; CMB: +4 (+6 Trip); CMD: 16 (18 v. grapple, 18 v. overrun, 20 v. trip)]; [Saves: Fortitude: +2; Reflex: +6; Will: +4 (+4 bonus vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone)]; [Initiative: +2]; [Perception: +7 (+9 with familiar within arms reach)]

With an "Aye, Aye sir" Randall jumps onto the rigging and begins to make his way up to the crow's nest.

Climb checks:

Climb check #1: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12 +7'
Climb check #2: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20 +14'
Climb check #3: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6 +14'
Climb check #4: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14 +21'
Climb check #5: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17 +28'
Climb check #6: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19 +35'
Climb check #7: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22 +42'
Climb check #8: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22 +49'
Climb check #9: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10 +56'
Climb check #10: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12 Success

Looking around Randall thinks to himself "Now what? There seems to be an awful lot of us up here."

Male Orc Expert 5

Riven, his calloused and sure hands easily clambering up the rigging like a spider makes it to the crows nest well ahead of everyone. He calls out just as the man with the whip was about to lash the gnome muttering angrily as Mr. Plugg stops the test.

From your vantage point you find it difficult at best to make out where you are in the world. A haze to the north may indicate land, and possibly port peril but the distance is such that it would be impossible to get back to by swimming.

"Enough! Get down! GET DOWN!"

Assuming you take ten on the way down.

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

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

"Put him to work!"

"Aye sir! On your feet ya mangy dog and up that rigging. Thar be lines ta mend and sails ta patch!"

As master scourge drives the man back 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.

I think Siera is in the other group...

20d6 ⇒ (1, 6, 5, 5, 6, 5, 3, 1, 5, 6, 5, 3, 5, 3, 5, 5, 5, 3, 6, 1) = 84

Mugwort keeps his mouth closed. Of course he could cook, but these foul longshanks would probably die from his cooking. Their tender stomachs wouldn't hold up. On the other hand fire and murder... Hmmm...

Male Orc Expert 5
Mugwort the Goblin wrote:

I think Siera is in the other group...

I have no idea what you are talking about...>_>....<_<...

male Human Rogue (Pirate) 1

Riven grinned at his landing an assignment already...dar dont be no bosses up in da riggin for sure and much better dan swabbing decks, stirring gruel or scrubbing da bilges, foul work dat, it is...

Aye aye boss man Scourge.. Where be da tools and such?

Edited for d6 rolls - 20d6 ⇒ (4, 1, 3, 5, 5, 5, 2, 2, 5, 2, 1, 3, 3, 2, 4, 4, 1, 4, 2, 5) = 63

Male Half-Elven Swashbuckler Lvl1 HP 9/9 INIT+4 AC 16 CMB+2 CMD+16 Rapier (+5 to Att) 1d6+2/18-20x2 Short Bow (+4 to Att) 1d6+2/x3 Saves: F+0 R+6 W+0

Alistair makes his way down the rigging. Manning the rigging's not a bad assignment, though he'd prefer a spot on the quarterdeck. He responds to Mr. Plugg.

"Never for anyone but myself, the results have been mixed.

20d6 ⇒ (3, 6, 4, 1, 5, 1, 2, 3, 5, 1, 4, 5, 2, 2, 2, 6, 2, 6, 4, 4) = 68

Awesome, outrolled by a green fiend. At least its about average. What sadicious peril will this mean for me now?

Male Orc Expert 5

You'll know over the course of 20 days in game time. :)

Female Gnome Druid 1

Kess heals herself before answering Mr. Plugg's question. 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
"I don't cook very often either. The crew might mutiny if I were made to cook for an extended period of time. If you would allow me to show my skills as a deckhand, you would not be disappointed."

20d6 ⇒ (4, 1, 1, 3, 1, 2, 6, 4, 6, 6, 3, 2, 4, 4, 1, 4, 2, 4, 6, 6) = 70

Male Human, dual talent Hedgewitch 3

"I've been a cook on a merchantman before sir. Solid food for hard work and stretch it where you can. The captain's table gets the best but not so good as to fill the crew with hate. Yes I've done it before. I am also skilled in the buying and selling of foodstuffs so whatever funds there are for supply will go farther."

I haven't rolled this many d6'd since my Champions days!:

1d6 ⇒ 4
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 4

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

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

1d6 ⇒ 5
1d6 ⇒ 4
1d6 ⇒ 6
1d6 ⇒ 2
1d6 ⇒ 1
Four groups of 5. Total if you want it is 77.

Male Human (Varisian) Bard (Sea Singer) 4
Character Information:
[HP: 32]; [Armor Class: 16 Touch: 12; Flat Footed: 14]; [BAB: +3; CMB: +4 (+6 Trip); CMD: 16 (18 v. grapple, 18 v. overrun, 20 v. trip)]; [Saves: Fortitude: +2; Reflex: +6; Will: +4 (+4 bonus vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone)]; [Initiative: +2]; [Perception: +7 (+9 with familiar within arms reach)]


#1: 1d6 ⇒ 1
#2: 1d6 ⇒ 1
#3: 1d6 ⇒ 3
#4: 1d6 ⇒ 2
#5: 1d6 ⇒ 2

#6: 1d6 ⇒ 6
#7: 1d6 ⇒ 6
#8: 1d6 ⇒ 2
#9: 1d6 ⇒ 3
#10: 1d6 ⇒ 2

#11: 1d6 ⇒ 6
#12: 1d6 ⇒ 2
#13: 1d6 ⇒ 5
#14: 1d6 ⇒ 6
#15: 1d6 ⇒ 4

#16: 1d6 ⇒ 5
#17: 1d6 ⇒ 6
#18: 1d6 ⇒ 5
#19: 1d6 ⇒ 3
#20: 1d6 ⇒ 6

total: 76

Randall is about to speak when the peg-legged man chimes in with his qualifications. Randall looks at him and says "Looks like we have a winner."

Male Orc Expert 5

You've never played shadow run then.

Male Orc Expert 5

"You're full of disappointment!" Mr. Plugg roars at the gnome brandishing his cat at her. "Fine!" He pushes his cat towards the peg legged man. "Yer the cook's mate. Report to him now."

"The rest of ye be filthy swabs until ye die or yer told otherwise!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.

Mugwort earns the delightful duty of descending below the smell of longshanks and into the bilges. Mucking them out and pumping the water out. However the work is hard. He will need to make a DC12 strength check. In addition he will need to make a DC10 constitution check to preven from being fatigued at the end of his shift.

Riven earns the task of basic rope work. No tools really. He is expected to handle rope. Transporting it, coiling it, uncoiling it, spooling it, hanging it on cleats and other such exhausting and menial tasks. He will need to make a dC10 constitution check to keep from being fatigued at the end of his shift.

Alistair gets to sand the decks with holy stones back breaking work to keep them clean. He will need to make a DC10 constitution or strength check or be fatigued at the end of his shift.

The bosun's mate assigns Kess the job of basic rope and knot work. She gets to carry massive and heavy coils of rope from one part of the ship to another as well as knotting and unknotting various coils for the rest of the ship's use. She must make a DC 10 strength or profession sailor check. In addition she must make a dc10 constitution check to prevent from being fatigued at the end of her shift.


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 (!), and random refuse. 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 Ryzern 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 but alas he does not bear the inclination nor prper balance to use them as effectively as he may dream. Something 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. You had long suspected that you were indeed the unluckiest and most beaten and abused man in the shackles. Today you've found a man whose personal misery and hell eclipses your own.

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. Lots of a!#!@#!%s that need stuffin."

Rummaging through the pile he pulls out a pair of shortspears. [b]"Roight fetch yerself a net and get me a couple 'o turtles.

[ooc]Ryzern will need to make a DC10 survival or Profession sailor check. The cook warns against failing as Mr. Plugg is looking foward to turtle stew.

In addition to the work you will be allowed to take a single ship action at this time. 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.

male Human Rogue (Pirate) 1

The jovial rogue wasted no time clambering up into the rigging and setting to task. It was work he was very familiar with...and by George dis lass needs me help... This thought sidetracked him into wondering...just who in da nine hells was George anyways?.. but didnt keep him from making it to the top of the mizenmast and out onto its boom where he rerigged the block 'n tackles hauling rope. This being his first day he work diligently to avoid the lash and from time to time could be heard singing...he lived in a pineapple under da sea...

Con check DC 10: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15

Male Half-Elven Swashbuckler Lvl1 HP 9/9 INIT+4 AC 16 CMB+2 CMD+16 Rapier (+5 to Att) 1d6+2/18-20x2 Short Bow (+4 to Att) 1d6+2/x3 Saves: F+0 R+6 W+0

’Swabbing the decks?’ he thought, ”That just wouldn’t do, though I suppose it will have to for now.’ Alistair looks up at Riven monkeying along the rigging, envying the space he has between him and Scourge’s whip.

He’ll need to cozy up to the bosun’s mate, work some type of angle to get the plum duty. But for now he wants to get his bearings aboard the ship. He begins to set himself to task, ready for the long day of uncompromising work ahead of him. He keeps his head down and addresses his task dutifully. He attempts to go unnoticed, blending into the deck and the woodwork itself. Biding his time he waits for the right moment to sneak off and explore, not sure of what he’ll find. It’s this curiosity that keeps him going through the day.

Perception Check: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10

STR Check: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16

TarkXT wrote:
Mugwort earns the delightful duty of descending below the smell of longshanks and into the bilges. Mucking them out and pumping the water out. However the work is hard. He will need to make a DC12 strength check. In addition he will need to make a DC10 constitution check to preven from being fatigued at the end of his shift.

Mugwort actually revels at the thought of being sent down below away from the horrible longshanks. While down in the bilge, he fishes through the muck to see if he can find any "treasures".

Strength 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Con check: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13

Male Human, dual talent Hedgewitch 3

Turtles? I need to find turtles? Pro. Sailor 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25.. Oh he means these turtles!

Having found and netted the doomed Chelonioidea. Ryzern takes some time to poke about the area where he found the turtles
Ship action: Sneak. Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13.

"Have the beasties for you sir! These will cook up a treat."

Also, Ship's action: Sneak Perception 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6

Male Orc Expert 5

Rand gets to join Mumbata in the bilges. Please go ahead and make the same checks he is.

Female Gnome Druid 1

Kess remains quiet as she performs her assigned rope work. When sent below deck, she shirks her duties in between tasks and explores looking for the Quartermaster's stores assuming thats where her equipment might be.

Profession (Sailor): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
Ship's action (Shirk)- Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13

End of the day's Constitution check: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

Male Human, dual talent Hedgewitch 3


Questions for Tark or Thought for food:
How is the food taken to the nobbs? Runner?
How well supplied do we appear to be? Just basics or some better class stuff? Any fresh fruit or veg?
How secure are the food water and drink supplies? Not pushing my luck to find any answers, just keeping eyes open.

Male Human (Varisian) Bard (Sea Singer) 4
Character Information:
[HP: 32]; [Armor Class: 16 Touch: 12; Flat Footed: 14]; [BAB: +3; CMB: +4 (+6 Trip); CMD: 16 (18 v. grapple, 18 v. overrun, 20 v. trip)]; [Saves: Fortitude: +2; Reflex: +6; Will: +4 (+4 bonus vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone)]; [Initiative: +2]; [Perception: +7 (+9 with familiar within arms reach)]

Strength check: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21
Con check: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

Despite himself Randall can't seem to get himself as worked up about being in the bilges as Mugwort seems to be. "Might as well get to know my fellow shipmates now, shouldn't I" "So, what brought you to Port Peril and how did you get to be so unfortunate to get pressganged with the rest of us?"" Working in the heat and stench provided by the close quarters takes it toll and by the end of his shift Rand can do little more than shuffle back to his hammock. That evening Randall will sing a shanty to help take the sting out of hours of long work.

A is the anchor that holds a bold ship,
B is the bowsprit that often does dip,
C is the capstan on which we do wind, and
D is the davits on which the jolly boat hangs.

Oh, hi derry, hey derry, ho derry down,
Give sailors their grog and there's nothing goes wrong,
So merry, so merry, so merry are we,
No matter who's laughing at sailors at sea.

E is the ensign, the red, white, and blue,
F is the fo'c'sle, holds the ship's crew,
G is the gangway on which the mate takes his stand,
H is the hawser that seldom does strand.

I is the irons where the stuns'l boom sits,
J is the jib-boom that often does dip,
K are the keelsons of which you've told, and
L are the lanyards that always will hold.

M is the main mast, so stout and so strong,
N is the north point that never points wrong,
O are the orders of which we must be'ware, and
P are the pumps that cause sailors to swear.

Q is the quadrant, the sun for to take,
R is the riggin' that always does shake,
S is the starboard side of our bold ship, and
T are the topmasts that often do split.

U is the most unbelievable Captain of all,
V are the vapours that come with the squall,
W is the windlass on which we do wind, and
X, Y, and Z, well, I can't put in rhyme!

Perform check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

Mugwort, Tark. Mugwort. ;)

Mugwort looks askance at the man lowered into the bilge with him. He scowls while sifting through the bilge water. "Mugwort. Me, am Mugwort. Mugwort found bottle of rum, drank rum and lay down outside of tavern to think deep deep thoughts. Then Mugwort wake up here. Worst? Stupid Longshanks take Mugwort gun! Big gun go boom! Mugwort good at fixing gun, too. Stupid longshanks."

After listening to his song, Mugwort issues a rare smile. "You sing like goblin! You not stupid longshanks. You almost goblin." He grins with a wide toothy grin that is definitely approving.

Male Orc Expert 5

I'll stop confusing the groups eventually.

It amuses me greatly, DM. And I get to rib the DM. Win!

Male Orc Expert 5

For those of you making shirk, or sneak actions please make me a DC15 stealth check to avoid discovery. I still need an action from Riven and Rand for the day.

You notice that when the officers are given their food the runner is the cabin girl who spends a moment carefully tasting all the food before running it up to the officers. The food is relatively secure as the ship's cook actually recieves it from the quartermaster. As far as in the kitchen itself it seems beyond putting fresh fruit and vegtables in cupboards out of reach of the goats and chickens Fishguts makes no effort to secure the food and seems to care not one bite.

Bilge Workers:
More may be detailed depending on the results of the checks but two immediate things are worth noting. First their is a sullen looking man chained to a wall. Any attempt to talk to him is responded with muttered curses. The second is the giant patch of cobwebs covering the ceiling. Inside you can see dozens or perhaps hundreds of big red hairy spiders. You get the funny feeling they're watching you.

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