The Secrets of the Sunderlands
Game Master GM Netherfire

Now facing three enemies larger than itself, the lone octopus decides to hunt elsewhere. The suction cups pop pop pop as it releases its grip on the ship's planking, and falls into the sea. As it lands with a splash, a burst of ink obscures the direction of its retreat.

The danger passed, Captain Rettley meets Rolg's eye and gives a respectful nod. He sheathes his blade and returns to the helm. You notice Cylar watching the attack from the stairs. Now that the octopi aboard seem dead, he runs to their beaten and lacerated bodies, gathers them up, and bolts down to the kitchen. He wears a giddy smile as his Halfing feet pound down the stairs.

Encounter passed! You are out of initiative order. Bolgrith, I will need three more Fortitude saves from you. Balion, you mentioned wanting to aid with a Heal check. We can apply that to his first save whenever you post.

After a few moments to catch their breath, the sailors in the melee return their weapons to their side. They return to their tasks with a quiet determination, with no askance of aid despite having a harder time lifting, carrying, and climbing. Simon's actions also seem to lack some of their verve since he was bitten.

"I have your bravery to thank, fellows. Those squirmy creatures had me all out of sorts," says Simon. He begins to shuffle below deck. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need some rest."

Rolg sheathes his blade and resumes his wanderings of the ship.

Deciding he must now aid those injured in the fight Balion kneels by Bolgrith and attempts to heal him. But, first he must try and remember anything he knows about octopi poison before examining the wounds.
Knowledge (Nature)1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10
Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Heal 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6 wow that sucked

Heh, I do my best. Just wish my knowledgeable student of life would act more like Rambo, or Jason Bourne or something heh. Ah well.

Bolgrith shivers as the last Octopodiformes Cirrata retreats over the railing. His skin has paled as the venom has worked it's way through his system. He tries to focus on tending to his knee, but the poison has clouded his mind as well as sapped his strength. He finds a stool and just sits staring at the deck. Eventually he mutters a small prayer, flourishing his hand as he presses it to his knee. A small blue glow ensconces his knee as he prays, and the bleeding stops.

CLW 1d8 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 + 1 = 8

Exhausted Bolgrith leans back and retreats his mind into a deep meditative state. Somewhere in his unconscious mind he knows that he must now fight a new battle, a battle with the poison that seeps through his system. This war will be fought on the planes of his mind and will, only through complete mastery of ones self can he hope to forcibly separate the toxins from his blood. The Priests breathing slows as his mind passes from the realm of the conscious. For several hours he appears catatonic, sitting stock still in the same position on the ship, heedless of the rolling waves and biting wind.

Perhaps a contextual bonus?

Fort Save 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Fort Save 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
Fort Save 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

While Balion's experience with the octopus limits his knowledge of them, he can tell by watching all that were poisoned that the toxin seems to drain the victim's physical might, though very slowly. His attempts to help Bolgrith resist the poison seem to have no effect.

Rolg, I am curious what kind of wandering you have in mind. Are you playing hide-n-seek with yourself? General loafing? Poking around and getting into things you shouldn't? If the latter, roll a Perception.

The poison courses through Bolgrith's system, ravaging his strength. Take 2 STR damage, no bonus. His muscles atrophy, until his meditation and concentration at last overcome the poison, and the excruciating pain passes.

General Exploring. Checking everything I can until someone tries to stop me. :)

Waking from his meditative coma Bolgrith assesses his condition. His wounds are healed, and he doesn't feel any pain but he is still weak. Knowing how the poison works he is confident that with time and rest he will be back to his normal self.

Recalling the battle, the Cleric wonders at where their employer got off to. Searching the ship he finds the young man asleep below decks (I assume). Taking pains to not wake him, Bolgrith mutters a quiet prayer and heals the boys wounds. A soft blue glow suffuses the room as the Priest finishes praying.

CLW 1d8 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 + 1 = 10

He searches about the ship for some medical supplies, intending to care for the young man until his strength is back up.

Heal (Long Term Care) 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

With the passenger quarters in the stern of the ship’s lower deck behind the wide center stairway, empty hammocks hang near the forward mast, between the center and the bow. In the bow proper, Cylar works carefully with the octopus flesh –he seems intent on preserving whatever he is removing. Behind him, stacks of barrel and crates form a sort of wall, all the way up to the ceiling, seven feet high. Remembering the shape of the prow, you judge the storage of supplies to go several crates deep. A narrow, Halfling sized aisle divides the wall of trade goods. Cylar brusquely accosts you for moving past the table, closer to the supplies. You do not see a cabin for the captain, but one of the ten rooms not occupied by your companions is locked with an ornate mechanism. There is little on the top deck, save for masts, rigging, the six ballistae, and several large crates kept in the stern behind the wheel. These crates seem to be lidded by only a couple nails each, and could be easily opened. If you move to do so, you get a stern glare from the captain, who stands at the wheel.

This is common knowledge for anyone who does any wandering or poking about.

Approaching Cylar for medical supplies, he vanishes among the storage crates, and a moment later, returns with a few salves and bandages. Simon never wakes fully while under care, but his sleep remains fitful. Your knowledge of the poison and of the human body tell you that he will likely recover his strength by sundown.

Believing the cleric the better trained and more interested, Balion allows the dwarf to heal the injured. Walking past the sailor who was impressed with his catch earlier, he bitterly mutters a comment. "A good catch is good luck my ass." Balion walks about the deck of the ship helping the crew restore order.

Unable to help with the healing, Aladdin dries himself off and then meanders about the boat. He makes his way down the ship. "Are they edible?" Aladdin asks the halfling as he pokes his head into the kitchen.

Do you speak Halfling?
"Wosg yww. Needs lodda time, lodda work. Mducc byumyryom." Cylar replies in broken Common. He seems to organize any intact organs in a practiced manner. Dicing the tentacles, he drops them into boiling water. He drops in a few rusty nails. "Rust helps thez yod the poison."

After twenty minutes, he dumps the water overboard and repeats the process, this time squeezing a lemon into the water.

Not a word.

"I.... see. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help. I can help fry it if needed." Aladdin said as he watched the curious cooking ritual.

The rest of the day passes on without event. Cylar calls for supper at sundown, where he serves salted ham, hardbread, and ale. He seems to have separated and pickled different parts of the octopus from the incident that afternoon. It seems Simon is his usual self, though still a bit tired, and he join the crew for supper. As everyone begins eating, there is a hobgoblin among them you did not notice before.
Everyone turns in for the evening, including the captain, but it is clear that this hobgoblin, gruffly introducing himself as Golo, will be keeping watch overnight.
A loud bell heralds the sunrise the next morning. Golo is seen munching on hardbread as he retreats into one of the unlocked passenger rooms. Cylar has a breakfast similar to last night's supper, but offers water and an orange with the ham and hardbread instead of ale.

Although not believing the tampering of locks to be immoral, following the rules of the ship is important. As such, Balion makes no attempt to break into the locked portions of the ship. After breakfast he heads up to the deck to fish. Inspired by Bolgrith's resourcefulness, he wonders if he could use a fish, in future attacks, to bait the octopi off the boat. I Wonder if octopi even eat fish?
Knowledge (Nature) 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9
Looking over the side of the boat he endeavors to determine where it would be best to cast his net before he begins fishing.
Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Survival 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
Wasn't sure if this was kosher, but went for it anyway.

The morning is crisp and clear, Bolgrith awakens and feels refreshed. Not yet back at full strength he nonetheless notices that his body is responding more like it's old self. Not wanting to strain his damaged muscles with his morning calisthenics, the Cleric instead moves about amidships and makes his way to the breakfast table. Seating himself he thanks Cylar for his efforts and tucks in. Taking his orange he peels it and squeezes it over his tankard, stirring as juice mixes with water. He takes a bite of the fruit and drops the remainder into his cup.

Glancing about the table the dwarf takes note of likely fellows (Simon, the Captain, ect) and asks each of them in turn if they have any books or scrolls regarding the Marspires or their ultimate destination or it's people. The Priests interest in the denizens of this new land goes further than mere names and dates. The Scholar is also curious about their beliefs and customs, why and how they are who they are.

He intends to spend the whole day pursuing this goal.

Simon pipes up, "I’ve only traded with them twice, and on both accounts they seemed decent folk and fair traders. The first was when I was only a boy on one of my father’s galleys, and the other was two weeks ago, as we crossed the Far Sea to reach Hamonreld. From what I’ve heard, they revere Gozreh and her command of the sea."
A small smile appears on his face at the dithering of the sailors, and concedes, "Though their pointed teeth, strange eyes and webbed hands did make for a disconcerting visage. They’ll trade well for anything shiny –gold, silver, jeweled baubles and the like."

Knowledge Religion to recall information on Gozreh.

Many of the crew avoid the questions or give small, contradictory answers, but Captain Rettley looks Bolgrith straight in the eye, weighing before he speaks.
”Just like any folk I s’pose. Fair and peaceful ‘til you cross them. Not that I can confirm, but I hear that they usually eat fish, sea plants and the like. But when a full moon lights the Merspires, it drives the mermen into a frenzy to seek bigger game –whale, kraken, greatcrab, what have you. But there are too many incidents of ships lost at sea to blame the moonlit ones on these merfolk, I say.”

Not all of the crewmen share in Captain Rettley's skepticism.

Balion pulls up a wiggling cluster of tuna, as though he pulled up an entire school of them. As he brings the net in, he sees there is enough to feed four people, and a few bites extra.

The skies have remained overcast, as typical the season. But today, the clouds seem a shade darker. Sporadic gusts of wind buffet the ship and threaten the balance of those above deck, but they subside as quickly as they rise. Captain Rettley and his crew occasionally throw searching glances to the clouds, and nervously mutter.

Weather notwithstanding, the day passes with little excitement. That evening, Golo reappears for dinner wearing the same scowl. In comparison to Rolg, Golo's build is a bit thinner, but the fluidity of his gait suggests he could be very fast, when he needed to be. He regards Rolg indifferently, and can hardly spare even a smirk among his own crew.

As he climbs the steps, he jolts as if struck on the jaw, and his grey-skinned ears twitch. He turns to Captain Rettley.

"Yah hair t'at?" he croaks, "Fightin' words 'atween tah sky an' sea."
His nostrils flare. "An' a wind t'at brings deat'. Mark me words, cap'n, et'll come tah blows with tah sunup."

He wraps his cloak tighter, and steps above deck. Many sailors hang their heads at this prediction, as though sentenced by a lawman.

Er, did none of them have any written word?

Bolgrith thanks them for their insight and thinks back to his lessons at the temple. While his studies were focused on Irori and his teachings, the Monks had always instilled in him an acceptance and even appreciation for other religions and their gods. There are many paths to self perfection, and Iroris is just as good as all others.

Knowledge (Religion) 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25

Later in the evening Bolgrith notices the interaction between the Captain and his first mate. He tries to call to mind what he knows about weather patterns in this region of the world.

Knowledge (Nature) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

Aladdin looks around the table and notices the muttering about the bad weather. Storms! I love storms! The fury of the wind, the beating of the rain, I thrive in the raw energy nature brings. But then again, it'd be bad if the boat sank... He mused as he munched on a piece of bread.

Rolg eats his breakfast quickly, downs his ale and finds another tankard full to set him up for the day.

If he has to take another from someone else he will try :) Though he will pick a known weakling: someone he can easily intimidate.

You awake the next morning to the bell, and you hear the crew stomp up the stairway. Cylar seems to be securing items in storage, and if you ask, he will hurriedly offer hardbread and water before returning to his task. The other foods seem packed up. Golo is already missing from top deck, and understandably so, as the ship’s constant rocking seems to dip deeper and rear higher.
The stone-grey sky rumbles in the distance, though the sun brightens the overcast that meets the horizon. The clouds are darkest west, the direction of Hamonreld, and the wind that fills the sails also pushes the storm towards The Wanderlust.
The captain shouts commands to the crew; it seems he will try to outrun the storm. Smaller sails are extended from the main mast, and immediately fill. It is hard to tell if the ship picks up speed, but it is clear after two hours that the storm is faster. The bottom of the angry dark clouds streak toward the sea, the telltale sign of distant heavy rain. The storm seems to be only a few miles out, and the distance is closing fast. Already, fierce gales sweep the deck and waves swell higher against the hull of the ship. It is difficult to stand steady. The storm seems to be about a mile from the ship when the captain calls for safety lines, and tasks men to roll up the sails. He notices the passengers for the first time. His eyes are stern and his voice cruel.

"Tie up so you can help or hide out below, and hop to it!"

Coils of rope hang from the masts and the sailors set to tying one end around their waists, shifting their stance with the pitch of the deck. The rain is starting to fall in large, heavy drops. Lightning flickers everything white, and thunder booms over the captain’s commands.

Rolg returns the captain's stare amiably and asks, "If I help, am I to be paid for the day's work?"

If yes, Rolg will tie off and do his part. If no, he'll saunter below and secure all but his longsword, before he resurfaces and ties off anyway.

The captain glances at Simon, who is grinning and eagerly tying a rope around his waist, and dismisses the hesitation.
"Yes, fine. Tie up, gobo." The captain has to shout to be heard over the storm.

Rolg, roll a Profession (sailor). It might help with future saves.

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

Waking below decks Bolgrith springs out of bed, ready for the day. Instantly he notices the tipping of the deck. He is not sure, but the added swaying reminds him of the last time he had been on a sea voyage. The last time he had encountered a...

...STOOOOORM AT SEEEEEEA!
By GM Netherfire

Taking the stairs two at a time, no mean feat for a dwarf, he reaches the main deck in time to hear the Captains call to tie up. The Priest is no expert of ship and rope, but he has sailed before. Quickly he ties himself off, plants both feet firmly on the deck, and waits for orders.

"We're getting paid, Captain?"Aladdin hollers as he runs to tie a rope around his waist and then get to helping out on deck.

Profession Sailor if needed 1d20 ⇒ 16

Rolg, add +2 to saves during the storm. When the weather calms, the bonus will end.

The captain scowls, frustrated he is badgered by this when his ship is at stake. He shouts something as thunder booms overhead, but all you can hear is "...later!"

Also, you do not have Profession (sailor) among your skills as Rolg does, so you will receive no bonus based on your seamanship. And sorry everyone, please specify which mast you tie yourself to: main-mast or foremast. There is room on both, and there seems to be fifteen sailors tied to the main, and ten to the foremast. The foremast is a bit narrower and holds up a smaller sail, but is nonetheless sturdy.

Foremast. S@&& gets REAL up there.

Mainmast

Foremast. I LOVE STORMS.

Leaving his polearm below deck Balion grabs his longsword, strapping it to his back, and ties himself to the foremast beside the Rolg. Pulling down his hat in order to shield his eyes from the heavy rain reading himself for the storm ahead. Remembering a proverb of old sailors Balion spoke as clearly as he ever had before, "A smooth sea never made a skilled mariner."
Profession (Sailor) 1d20 ⇒ 11

Ok, so I will describe the scenario as it unfolds, and give you a certain amount of time to react before something else happens. Because this isn’t exactly combat where you can default to hack ‘n slash or cast go-to spells, let me know in the Discussion board if there is anything you would like to try, but are unsure of how it works logistically/ what you roll.

ALRIGHT!!!!

Everyone make a STR check to be able to move despite the strong wind.

The howling winds are deafening and the bow plunges, then bucks. A massive wave slams the port side and washes over the deck! The ship leans far to starboard, and then rocks upright again. Reflex saves to keep your footing! (If you have any feats or racial abilities that help resist bull rush, I will allow you to apply them to your save.) A few of the sailors lose their footing and tumble to the starboard side, but are able to stop themselves at the railing. A few fish are left behind, slapping and gasping at the deck. Lightning flashes.

The results of your STR check and Reflex save determine your future options.

Strength1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Reflex 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

Bolgrith tightens his grip on the rope as the waves lash on the deck. Straining against the maelstrom he does his best to stay on his feet.

Strength 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Reflex 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13

Strength 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 3 + 2 = 17
Reflex 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 + 2 = 24
The extra +2 is from my profession: sailor success earlier. Feel free to remove :)

Strength 1d20 ⇒ 5 Reflex 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

The cleric and the mage are able to keep afoot as the sea rushes over them, but the wind is just too strong, and they are unable to move. The ranger is no stranger to high winds, and adjusts to them with little effort. But he does not anticipate the surging wave and is bowled over. Fortunately, he catches himself at the railing before his safety line draws taut. The hobgoblin strides as though he was born for these conditions -the waves and wind to not affect him.

Bolgrith, Aladdin, you must first overcome the winds in order to move, though you can still perform actions standing still. Balion, you are prone, near the starboard edge of the ship. It will take a move action to get to your feet. Rolg, I subtracted your Profession bonus from your STR check. It applies only to saving throws.

A cry that chanced over the constant rumble calls attention above, to the sails. The main are sails rolled and secured, but the foresails are only partially tied off, and now three sailors dangle from their lines hanging from the forty-foot tall topgallant, and are struggling to climb the line to reach the sail and complete the task. Two other top deck sailors scramble up the rigging to aid them.

You do not have to help them, but if you do: Make 4 Climb checks (DC 10) to reach the topgallant, then roll CMB DC 10 to aid in securing the sail. Depending on your roll and your armor check penalty, you could reach the top in as little as 4 move actions (2 rounds). However, if you miserably fail a Climb check near the top, you could possibly fall forty feet (and probably die). Choose wisely. Or bravely. Whatever you choose to do, you have three rounds to act until the next event. You can take these turns all at once if you wish.

Captain Rettley secures his line to the wheel mount and clings to the wooden wheel knobs; his soaked seacoat hanging heavily on his body. His determined gaze is set at another port-approaching wave, and he spins the wheel with practiced ease.

Bolgrith stumbles backwards, he had misjudged the strength of the storm. Glancing around he speaks a quick prayer to Irori, contorting his hand as he presses it to his arms.

Guidance on Self

Wrapping the rope around his forearms he plants his feet and braces for the next wave.

Strength 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 2 + 1 = 5

He tries again, Guidance and then Strength 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 2 + 1 = 14

Finally able to brace against the wind, the Priest moves to the bottom of the topgallant. He knows he won't be able to help secure the rigging, but he can try to help anyone who may fall while up above the deck.

As he passes by the Sorcerer he reaches out a blue glowing hand and whispers a prayer.

Guidance on Aladdin (+1 competence bonus on a single attack roll, saving throw, or skill check.)

To attempt to move against the wind 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

Passed. You are free to move about the cabin.

Climb 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Climb 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Climb 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Climb 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

CMB 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

Rolg starts up the mast, cursing the sailor who cannot stand a little wind. He makes a beautiful start but get his foot caught in a swinging rope part way up. It slows him for a moment but doesn't cause lasting harm. Soon enough, the sail is secured and a wet and annoyed Hobgoblin returns to the deck.

Wow! Good rolls. You will need climb checks to get back down, though you rolled well enough to make it halfway down the rigging. You are twenty feet above the deck.

The other sailors work together with Rolg to secure the topsail, and help their dangling fellow crewmen back to the rope ladders leading to the deck.

Climb 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Climb 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

Welp, I didn't expect you to succeed so well, so quickly. You make it back down to the deck within the three rounds.