After collecting their paper money from the clerks working with Marketh, Akassa's chief of staff, and not seeing Akassa herself anywhere, the group meets back up with Quint, collecting their gear and animal friends, and then makes their way down to the area around the Shadow Tower. Being rather familiar to many in the group, they locate pier thirteen berth two quickly, and there find a longship that has seen many years of use. Barnacle covered, with places on the hull that have obviously been repaired recently, she looks seaworthy, but just barely. Sailors are moving to and from the ship with barrels and crates of sugar, rum, and pipeleaf, which means they more than likely sailed all the way from Tindar. Obviously the ship and captain can handle the treacherous Mandarin Sea, certainly they can also handle moving up-current on the River of the Republic.
Vaslov is every inch the boat captain: tricorne on his head, cutlass and dagger at his side, with a coil of silk rope and a folded net looped into his belt. His face is clean shaven, and a long scar covers the length of his jaw on the left side of his face. A long-stemmed pipe hangs loosely out of the corner of his mouth, a thin trail of smoke rising from the bowl. His left eye is clearly glass, and for whatever reason the captain has chosen a glass eye with a bright red iris. His real eye is deep brown, as is the shaggy hair spilling out of his tricorne. Clearly, Vaslov is not a man to be trifled with, bargained with, surely, the importance and worth of his cargo marks him as a savvy businessman, perhaps that is the way to approach him for passage?
Once clear of the castle Psalm seems to shake the uncomfortable nature of the experience off. "I envisioned this experience to be a trade off between curiosity for human custom and being treated as livestock. I have a new respect for those who regularly submit to bureaucracy."
As they move through the city Psalm is quite but watchful. When sight of the river and harbor are seen he seems to lighten up. "I have yet to taste the open sea. I have heard that the sea is wild and untamable. Our need is upriver . . . .perhaps next time.
At the sight of the ship. Psalm smiles noting the foreign nature of the life that clings to the bow. [b]"How far I wonder. . . ."
When he sees the captain he notes the man and speaks to his companions, "This one does not look the kind to be trifled with. Our business might best be handled by one he perceives is a 'person of action' oft times humans have a hard time seeing that in gnomes."
Drun looks a little concerned at the thought of travel by ship. He has never been on the water and is quite unsteady even on the dock.
"Well this will be a new adventure...umm..so you know all about these ship-thingies...right??"
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The paladin, seeing that the others were hesitating, walked forward. With confidence he looked the captain in the eye. ”Hail and well met. I will be to the point. You are captain Vaslov, and your reputation proceeds you. My companions and I are in need of a ship and a captain that can handle moving up-current on the River of the Republic. Are the others right in that you are the man we should be talking to?”
Vaslov pulls the long-stemmed pipe from his mouth and exhales a few smoke-rings as he turns to look at the half-elf paladin of Amren that's addressed him. He smiles, a crooked, mangled-tooth affair that completely changes his visage from stern to almost ghastly humorous. Lindaer does his best to suppress a laugh. When the captain talks, his voice is thick with a Tindaran accent, but the man has the look of a Highlander to him, strange bedfellows those. "Come to flatter Captain Vaslov, have you?" He asks, rhetorically. It's clear by his genuine smile that Lindaer's flattering tactic was the right choice. "What's yer name elf-kin? How 'bout we start there. Then you can tell me how many you're thinkin' to bring aboard my Tacking Lady. We're headed up river either way, and might be a few extra hands would be welcome. The damned Sahuagin and Bullywugs have been ever more brazen lately. I heard tell from one o' th'other captains they've been attacking as far upriver as Daybreak! You all can handle yourself in a fight, looks like, eh? That one there," Vaslov points at Drun, "looks like he's seen more than a few scrapes. What about all these little-folk with you?" Vaslov uses one of the more acceptable colloquialisms, though, still, to some, derogatory, as he waves a hand a the three gnomes and the dwarf in the company. "They good in a scrap?"
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”Lindaer Elyrien is my name. I am no stranger to hard work, I assure you. Nor fighting, when Amren wills it. Drun-“ He motions to the half-orc ”-is as strong as he looks. And for the rest of my companions. It is well known how stout and skilled the dwarven are. And of my gnomish colleagues. I am sure that arcane and Druidic magic will be of great use on the rivers and when fighting off whatever dangers assail us.”
"Yes, I know several spells that would help against ruffians. And my good friend Vralk here is quite a good scout, with luck he'll spot trouble ahead of time"
Psalm smiles and mutters a few words in an almost chant his hand snakes out and a whip formed of thorny vines strikes out at the apple.
The whip snaps at the larger piece of apple left. The whip then shoots back toward Psalm's hand. He flicks a bit of brown off the apple and looks up in faux surprise, "What? Some of this apple is still fresh." He then takes a hearty bite.
Seeing the others demonstrating their skills, and not to be outdone, Quint casts Minor Illusion to make a shower of shimmering motes of light appear from his left hand. He uses this as a distraction to discreetly draw his sword in the right.
Vaslov's eyes light up at the show of skill from the dwarf and her gnome friends. He takes a long drag on his long pipe and puffs out several smoke rings before commenting. "Well, looks like we've got us a group of sailors in the making!" His mangled smile, still hideous, but somehow also endearing, spreads wide across his face. The Tindaran accent, coupled with his unmistakable Highlander look might be odd, but for whatever reason Captain Vaslov seems a rather trustworthy man. "As to whether we'll see action or not, never can tell. My Tacking Lady isn't a big ship, and that seems to make every enemy on the horizon think she's easy pickings. She's still floatin' though, and we give as good as we get. Eh lads and ladies?!" Vaslov says that last bit loud and strong so his whole crew can hear, and they all yell in response, a cacophony of affirmative responses, some raising weapons in the air. "Aye, we give as good as we get in every scrap. Seems like you lot won't get in the way. So, it's settled then. Welcome aboard my Tacking Lady! Though," He takes another couple puffs of savory-sweet smoke, "as to that, we won't be leaving port for another few hours. I've got manifests to check over, and we've cargo to unload plus more to load. If you need to grab anything else for the journey, you've got time to head to the markets and get it. Just make sure you're back here before the Order Temples ring the midday bell, and you'll be fine.
Psalm nods and moves to it.
Psalm works steadily he studies the other sailors knowing the ship itself is a new environment and these sailors a product of it.
Psalm seems to have plenty of interaction with the crew but little opportunity to more studied interactions.
Drun moves in and starts to carry the various crates and boxes onto the ship. It is much sturdier than he first thought, and over time he becomes a little more accustomed to its shifting and bobbing. His strength makes short work of the loading and unloading of the cargo.
After a split of the party, as some did go into the markets to do a little shopping, but others stayed to help their new Captain, Vaslov, load and unload his cargo, the sun reaches near its zenith, and all things are ready to head out of port. Captain Vaslov makes sure everyone that wanted passage is aboard, and then has his men throw away the bollard ropes and cast off. Psalm's interactions with the crew, while he did his best to demonstrate his willingness to work, a trait that did not go unnoticed, and was appreciated, reveal that Vaslov's second in command is his bosun, Allrith . Allrith has thick golden hair and hazel eyes. He wears ring mail and wields a war pick and shield. Allrith is shadowed closely, no matter where he goes, by a grey-furred dog named Rancis. Beyond that there are three crew foreman, one for each watch. The daywatch foreman is Leada . Leada is short and heavyset, with cropped blonde hair and large amber eyes. She wears studded leather and wields a forked whip just as easily as her "forked" tongue. The girl seems to have a story about just about everything, and Psalm notices the crew shake their heads in disbelief whenever she relates another whopper of a tale. Secondwatch's foreman is Ruby . Ruby is exceptionally beautiful, with uneven blonde hair and blue eyes. She wears studded leather and wields a rapier and light crossbow. Psalm isn't terribly certain, but it seemed like Ruby might have been flirting with him on the few occasions they had need to speak to each other. Lastwatch's foreman is a gruff and terse Highlander man, Cenfa. Cenfa has a long face, with matted brown hair and dark amber eyes. He wears studded leather and wields a longsword. Cenfa wears a backpack at all times, but not with any gear in it. The pack holds his badger friend Alil. The only other crew of note is the Tacking Lady's quartermaster and chef, Sige, also a Highalnder . Sige has a round face, with golden hair and dark hazel eyes. He wears simple clothing and riding boots. He also seems to enjoy a fair share of, or perhaps more than a fair share of, the ship's rum stores.
A warm and strong southerly wind meant that the Tacking Lady never needed oars in the water, and at full sail was making as good of time as is possible moving up the river, against the current. For those not familiar with the River of the Republic, the day was pure joy. As wide as three miles across at some points, and narrowing to a mile at others, the river is beautiful and swift, with high bluffs scattered on either side from time to time, and looking across wide open plains of grass or widespread forests at others. The day and evening passed with great camaraderie and fun. The crew that weren't on shift spent time gaming, dicing, and a bit of fishing, and everyone got along very well. Many among the group, new to the life of a sailor, felt what must be the call all sailors feel when they leave the land for the sea. There is something wonderful and fulfilling about being aboard such a vessel.
As much joy as the daytime voyage was, the shrill peel of a warning bell just after midnight brought stark reality. Captain Vaslov's rumors proved true, and as everyone is woken from their bunks and hammocks to the sound of alarm, the shouts from the deck fill all ears with fear, "Sahuagin!" Comes the frightful warning. Sahuagin, this far up river, no doubt taking advantage of some of the river's larger tributaries that head right to the sea. Regardless, when the call to arms is raised, everyone answers. Scrambling to grab weapons, everyone runs topside. The deck light by braziers, torches, and lamps is a chaotic mess. Everywhere sailors are fighting off Sahuagin that have climbed aboard already, or trying to fight them off at the gunwales. Your group, Akassa's newly invoked militia, stand in a cluster at the base of the stairs leading up to the stern deck, and steerage. Looking around for some way to prove useful you all watch as a band of Sahuagin jump onboard just by the rudder, ready to strike at Cenfa, who currently holds the wheel. Fate or the gods are certainly at play, because the cluster of Sahuagin is made of six fish-walkers, one for each member of the group. Good or bad fortune is yet to be determined.
Before the evening fun with the Sahuagin Boddy would have tried to make friends with Alil and Rancis (he would first ask permission from their people (animals do NOT have owners, they have people :-)).
He try and make friends by feeding with, playing with, and then talking with both animals.
If he manages to befriend the animals he will turn that into attempts to make friends with their people. No better way to befriend somebody than through their pet (or child), right? :-)
If the above requires rolls please feel free to roll them for me.
Psalm warms to the halfling awkwardly. He smiles broadly at her flirtations but rallies little more than polite response. "You again." He says with a chuckle when his duties brought him near her again. He chokes over what to say next. "Fancy meeting you" . . . no. "We have to stop" . . . no just stop. "Excuse me. I ah need the rope, behind you." He reaches past her and smiles as she makes room for him. "Thanks."
Quint helps load the ship, and takes the opportunity to explore and identify hiding places.
When the ship is underway, he volunteers to take a shift climbing the rigging to act as a lookout.
Later, during second watch, he finds a place where he can sit on the taffrail where he won't be in anyone's way, and where he can dangle his feet over the side and look out over the water. There, he practices his minor illusions, using them to create music to entertain himself and any crew members who care to listen.
Drun readies his weapon and shield and advances on the aquatic foe. Realizing that he will not be able to engage the enemy right away, he stops on the stern deck and prepares himself to repel any on comers while allowing his teammates' space to join him in the battle.
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Lifting his shield as well, Lindaer rushes to Drun’s side. While the two were both wielding shields, it was far from a shield wall. That, and with their differing builds and weapons, they looked anything but a cohesive hold. Still, Lindaer proudly lifted his shield, showing the holy symbol of Amren.
As one of the Sahuagin threads through its comrades moving directly toward the half-orc Drun, the paladin of the warrior god Saxwyn slices at it with his scimitar.
His edge draws a line of crimson on the fish-walker's torso as it closes the distance. It reacts thrusting with its spear and attempting to sink its disgusting pointed teeth into his flesh.
The iron tip of the Sahuagin spear finds deep purchase in Drun's side, finding a small gap in his chain armor, and Drun feels the tip dig deep into his flesh.
Two other fish-walkers strafe to the left to cut off any hope of escape for Cenfa, and launch their spears at the half-orc who so bravely came to face them all. Cenfa looks not to escape, though as he is the only one able to keep the Tacking Lady on course. He looks at Drun as if to say, "I can't leave this post or the ship will crash!" But he does so only with his eyes.
Drun easily dodges the first spear, but in so doing leaves himself open to the second spear, it slices his neck, producing a line of blood. But Drun of Saxwyn will not so easily be put down. He yells a warcry at the Sahuagin, and slams his scimitar against his shield. "Is that the best you've got! Come and taste my blade!"
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Boddy advances and draws some tiny, tiny tarts from his pouch. He tosses the tarts at the green Sahuagin, grabs out and waves a feather, and then quickly speaks
"Your father smells of Herring and your mother was a mollusk"
Yes please. Boddy would go for blue
Boddynuck's fishy joke rolls off the target's scaly hide as easily as water.
Lindaer, paladin of Amren, joins the fray post-haste, and jabs his rapier point into the foremost foe . His blade digs deep, and the fishwalker gurgles a watery cry of pain, but is still standing and in the fight. Seeing this new threat the Sahuagin that was furthest to the rear charges forward and thrusts with his spear and slams down with is seaweed encrusted teeth, trying to hit Lindaer from two different sides.
The charging Sahuagin warrior because of his two-pronged attack hits home with both, his spear slamming into Lindaer's stomach, and his wretched, pointed teeth ripping flesh from his shoulder. The sudden pain and blood loss is too much for the paladin of Amren, and he falls to the deck unconscious, dropping his rapier in the process. Cenfa looks at the dour circumstances and draws his longsword, swinging it wildly behind him to try and keep the Sahuagin off of him.
Though it looked for a moment as though Lindaer was going to hit the deck, he catches himself, steeling his resolve, and stays in the fight. It takes more than that to take a paladin of Amren out of the fray!
Hearing the trouble his newfound allies are in, Quint moves alongside Gomdebo, unleashing an arrow from his shortbow on the first scaly beast he spots .
Gomdebo's bolt sticks in the shoulder of the Sahuagin that was attacking Lindaer, and Quint follows that up with an arrow that lodges right in its neck, dropping it to the deck bleeding and dying. Then, as those on the stern deck watch in shock, two of the Sahuagin throw a net, that they hadn't noticed they were carrying, over Cenfa. The net has tethering ropes attached to their armor and they both immediately jump overboard, dragging the poor sailor to the edge of the gunwales. He has just enough time to react to jam his longsword into the deck boards, and use it to hold on, bracing his legs against the gunwale. It's clear that he is using every ounce of strength he has to keep himself from being dragged overboard and into the water. He screams at the top of his lungs. "Somebody grab the damned wheel, or The Lady is gonna crash and sink!!!"
Psalm looks for the best place to strike in this horrific crush. He looks between his allies and their wounds. He takes a few steps before the creatures put a net over Cenfa. Hearing the man yell he changes direction and breaks at full speed for the wheel. He calls out in a chant of a strange language as he runs.
He leaps at the wheel that appears in a free spin. He grabs the wheel and lets his weight and full force pull it the other way.
His eyes go wide when his momentum is not enough and the wheel starts its spin this time carrying the gnome around with it. He rides the wheel up and back down. He plants his feet when the can reach the deck and stops the spinning of the wheel straining to push it the other way.
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Feeling some life surge back into him, Drun roars and slashes at the fish-man before him (blue).
Attack:
Damage:
The tide of this battle changed swiftly. Where Cenfa's netting seemed like the sure end of The Tacking Lady, Psalm the savior came barreling out of nowhere throwing caution and healing magic to the wind. His curing spell gave Drun just the boost he needed, and from the corner of his eye he saw Drun pull his bloody scimitar from the fish-man's neck, just before the beast slumped to the deck, bleeding and dying. Perceiving the massive half-orc and his half-elven brother in arms to be the greatest threat, both the remaining Sahuagin, bereft of spears, quickly close the distance. They slash their filthy claws, and snap with their hideously pointed teeth.
Drun suffers a grievous bite wound, followed immediately by a slashing claw. His wounds are bloody, and any other man would have dropped, but a half-orc is made of tougher stuff, and the paladin of Saxwyn roars defiant, still in the fight. Lindaer is not so lucky, the fishwalker attacking him slammed his needle-like teeth into the half-elf's arm as he tried to fend him off with his rapier. The paladin of Amren drops to the deck, unconscious, no longer able to continue the good fight.
Boddy will throw a sleep spell at the spot where the scribble is on the map.
Affects 19 hit points of creatures. So, maybe 1 if it is already wounded. :-(.
For a moment, Quint is having a hard time seeing what is going on, with the two tall, armored half-breeds standing in the way. He holds his arrow, nocked and drawn, searching for a clean shot through the scuffle. When Lindaer goes limp, before he even has time to process the implications of his ally falling in combat, quint looks into the beady fish eye of the creature that felled him . With only the slightest movements, his grip on the arrow loosens. Static friction turns to dynamic as the arrow slips from his grip, headed straight for that eye.
Psalm sees Lunader go down and he growls in a strange language. He continues to mind the wheel, but aids his friends as best he can
He starts a chant and moves one of his hands like he is motioning along with a deep breathing exercise. He holds the deep breath a faint line of green sickly smoke roil up from his nose. He forcefully spits a blast of green smoke toward the nearest Sahuagin.
He rasps a moment as if the poison air is not the most fun to taste. But he calls out a familiar soothing utterance. Healing light washes over Lindaer.