You're awakened by the movement. You feel an endless, ceaseless rocking beneath and around you. Your stomach surges at the motion, a sensation that brings with it the remembrances of last night's revelries - the ringing laughter of a wild night, the heady joy of excess, the scents of rich stewed meat and perfume lingering in your nostrils.
But those pleasant memories are replaced by more pressing sensations - namely your cheek pressing against rough, splintered wood, a throbbing pain in your skull, the sickly taste of cheap wine in your mouth and stiffness in your joints. You've clearly had a night worthy of a mighty pirate of the Shackles. And the hangover to prove it.
Before you can sit up, your other senses begin to engage. First, sound - a steady creaking of shifting timbers. Quickly followed by smell – tar, salt, sweat. Finally, sight. Opening your eyes, you quickly close them in response to a bright light stabbing into them, cast from a lantern held right before you.
"Still abed with the sun over the yardarm?" snaps a rough voice, far too loudly. A vicious whipcrack punctuates the sentence, sending a new wave of pain through your head. "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!"
As your eyes adjust to the brightness, you can make out the speaker. A scar-faced man, of average height but above-average ugliness, snarls an expression that might be one of pain on a less hideous human, but appears to be his version of a smile. With him are half a dozen rough-looking sailors, carrying saps and nasty glares.
You're aboard a ship. With a filthy, ugly and unhappy crew. Against your will.
Comprehending your situation, you quickly try to move your limbs and discover you're unbound, but completely stripped of all your belongings, apart from the clothes on your back.
In addition to your clothing, you've managed to smuggle on your thieves tools.
You're still wearing your holy symbol.
You feel in your pockets and discover that all of your belongings have been confiscated except for the dice you were carrying.
Akadi scrambles to her feat, shaking her head to clear the fugue from head from drinking.
"The Wind blows and I end up on stranger tides, let us see what the journey brings."
Despite the desperate situation Akadi grins at the prospect of a new adventure.
Bedu rolls over like that fat sausage just mentioned. He feels a sudden splinter pierce his thigh, a sure sign of a lazy crew. But that pain helps to spur him on to his feet.
"I have the mouth of a camel's backside. Ugh! Who did this in my mouth while I sleep. May their mother's fleas remember to bite them back for such a taste." Bedu coughs politely behind a grimy hand. Then he waddles after Akadi letting his innate vision take in the health and beauty of this crew.
Once on deck, Bedu steps to one side and looks around for Port Peril. Or sea. Yes, more likely lots of sea and hard work to come. He pats his stomach like a friend he is about to say goodbye to.
"Ow! Please don't mention breakfast....oh that was loud."
The well dressed young man blinks but this fails to disperse the vagueness of his expression.
"Ah people yelling in the morning, I must owe you money. Either that or perhaps some innocent indiscretion?"
He glances about the hols as he tries to stand.
"No, it must be money then. Pity I had quite licentious hopes for Port Peril. Tell me fine sir why is the floor moving?"
As Foddertooth comes to, he keeps his eyes closed to avoid the blinding lantern light for a few moments longer. His incredible hearing more than makes up for a loss of sight. The to-and-fro' sway and creaking timbers remind him of his times spent in the ballast of his past adventures as a slave. He thinks to himself, "Foddertooth not remember tavern bein' on water, but Foddertooth drank many mugs last night."
When the voice speaks out, Foddertooth finally realizes he's in a whole mess of trouble. Filthy - Foddertooth hated that word. "Who you call filthy, longshanks!? Come close and Foddertooth teach you lesson!" He reaches at his side, seeking to unhook one of his volatile bombs from his bandoleer, but his grasps whiffs only air as he realizes he's void of possessions. He looks around and sees a few others in the same situation. "Oh," he says simply and drops his aggressive front. He has been in this position before and knows it's best not to fight it. However, he hopes to make his situation better by taking in all of his surroundings, specifically the crew and the aforementioned Captain Harrigan and Fishguts.
Alfonso Bluff -
Sense Motive -
Whip Attack for
"Ye'd best wisen up, boy," the foul man says at Alfonso. "Ye're aboard the Wormwood now - newest member o' the crew. Now get ye're ass up there like yer mates."
A moment later you hear the sharp crack of a whip in seeming response to Foddertooth's words. "Watch yerself, wretch," the man says. "Twoudln't be nothin' ta throw ya in the drink, ya filthy maggot - none aboard would miss ye' none. Now shut it and fall in line."
The only face you recognize is the bulbous-nosed dwarf you threw a beer at - and missed - the night before. You remember his cocking back and knocking you out - which is also the last thing you remember. He, in particular, is giving you a nasty glare.
As you emerge from below deck onto the main deck, you are once again blinded, but this time by the bright, morning sun. It’s quickly apparent you are on a sizable ship in the middle of the ocean, far from any land. Port Peril and the mainland of the Shackles are just an ochre haze many miles astern.
Figures cluster around the ship’s mainmast, looking up at the higher deck on the stern, where two figures stand. One of them is a broad, muscular Garundi man with a shaven head, a long beard bound with gold rings, and an eye patch. The other is a younger, balding man with a long black ponytail, wearing a long coat and carrying a well-used cat-o’-nine-tails.
You immediately notice that you are not the only new recruits — four others are standing with you on the deck, set apart by their relative cleanliness and their apparent unease. They consist of a human male, human female, female halfling and male gnome. A dozen or so other pirates, clearly existing members of the crew, stand about on the deck or in the ship’s rigging. After you're all up from below deck, the Garundi man speaks out over the crew, his loud voice clear and imposing.
"Glad you could join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for ‘volunteering’ to join my 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!" The pony-tailed man steps forward. "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." His speech concluded, he turns and walks away.
Mister Plugg comes down the stairs towards the lot of you, an unpleasant smile on his face. The other veteran sailors move off to be about their tasks as the nine of you face the captain's first mate. "Alright you filthy bilge rats, you heard the Cap'n! My name's Mr. Plugg and I will make pirates out of the lot of you. You lot of soft land lubbers are probably worthless at the moment, but we'll find out just how worthless right now."
He moves towards the large main mast at the center of the deck. "First thing's first, we need a new rigger as our last one fell a bit too far into his cups the last time he tried to go to work." Plugg tilts his head up to look at the crow's nest high up at the top of the mainmast before barking his orders. "Get your asses up those ropes to the crow's nest, on the double!"
The four other press-ganged crew scramble at Plugg's orders towards the ropes and guidelines on the side of the ship, starting to climb meekly towards the crow's nest.
Akadi climbs somewhat leisurely, deciding that climbing's not her strong point and she'll not exhaust herself so early in the day.
Akadi sets of looking well, making a decent though not a pushed pace. Until about halfway up a slip catches her foot, and leaves her hanging by the ankles above the deck.
"Think I failed this one Mr Plugg."
|
Isabella studies the rigging and starts to make the climb, stopping after only a few feet. Climbing back down, she takes hold of the hem of her dress and rips it off to just above the knee. Discarding the strip of cloth that she has removed, she gives a scowl at Mr. Plugg and begins her ascent in earnest.
Though she almost slips a few times, she manages to catch herself each time, and with a triumphant shout, reaches the crows nest after only a little over a minute.
Bedu breathes hard at the base of the mast and gives the others a few moments to clear a space above. His flowing pale robes flutter and billow in the wind as he tries to climb.
Then after 10 feet of solid effort, his left foot becomes tangled in a flapping hem and caught between the ropes he starts to flail and grab managing to arrest his drop by falling backwards and looping the backs of his knees around the netting.
Eventually the barber gets upright again. He tries to climb again, sweat is popping out of his forehead and making Bedu's bald pate shine with all this exertion.
"By six strumpets I wish to sleep with tonight, may I manage this for Mr Plugg!"
Ten foot later the same thing happens again, only this time his robes all fall down over his face exposing his chubby legs and so much more. Very muffled, the dwarf says, "Masterful Mr Plugg, blame the piemaker's wife in port. She kept my undergarments when her husband found us. I apologise for her avarice, but you can understand why she wishes to see me again."
Pulling the robes back out of his face, Bedu smiles upside down at the first mate, "I am a very good healer, barber and maybe cook? Fine storyteller. Poor climber."
"ah, up there." Alfonso glances at the grinning crew and the man with the whip. "..well"
1 7ft up
2 No progress
3 14ft up
4 No progress
5 No progress
6 No progress
7 Fall.
8 7ft
9 14ft
10 21ft
11 Fall.
12 7ft
13 14ft
14 21ft
15 28ft
16 35ft
17 42ft
18 Fall ]
DEAD. Damage 18+5+4=27. Hp 14+10 con.
The young man assails the rigging. The first slip was quite minor and gave the crew a good laugh. The second slip had less of the crew laughing as his leg is quite clearly broken.
Foddertooth has been through all of this once before - proving yourself to a band of ruthless sea sharks - but last time he wasn't fighting to be one of the crew, just a simple slave for the captain to order around. Eager to prove himself and work his way up in rank once again, Foddertooth quickly scrambles to the rope.
Rough Start
10ft
--
20ft
25ft
30ft
--
Fall
Foddertooth struggles to find an convenient way to mount the ropes, which are just slightly too big for hands. Finally making way, he does decent work until the halfway mark, at which point his stamina has been drained and his arms give out.
The only face you recognize is the bulbous-nosed dwarf you threw a beer at - and missed - the night before. You remember his cocking back and knocking you out - which is also the last thing you remember. He, in particular, is giving you a nasty glare.
Well who'd have thought it, the noble-lass be the most like a crew-rat of us all
As the bodies fall from the mast, Plugg and Scourge laugh cruelly - even when the injuries are deadly serious. As Akadi, Foddertooth and Alfonso violently hit the deck, Plugg looks down at their broken bodies for a moment with a sour scowl and calls for a sailor to "bring Longfarthing." A few minutes later, a tall, severe woman emerges from below deck. She sees the bodies sprawled on the deck and withdraws a wand. Pointing at each of the bodies, she casts a healing spell on you all.
As Bedu gives up on the climb, Scourge lashes out his whip.
for
"Think yer smart mouth will save you from work, boy? You do as Plugg says. Get back on the ropes!"
"Shut it, Scourge," Plugg barks. "This one will be Fishgut's new mate. I'm tired of eating rubbish. This one says he can cook? Let's have him prove it."
As Isabella reaches the crow's nest first, Scourge let's out a laugh. "So boys, looks like we got a lass 'manning' the rigging now. Think we should get her some pants or make her keep the skirt?"
Once everyone is back on the deck, Plugg announces your new duties. "Fair bit o' climbin' wench. You're among the riggers. Today, I want you doing some line work - we'll see if you can carry your weight."
"The rest of you, apart from the dwarf here, are the new swabs. Scourge will get you acquainted with your tasks. You, dwarf, come with me. I'm bringing you to Fishguts."
Scourge smiles cruelly. "All right ye filthy lot. Ye heard 'im. Yer under my command now. Ye do as I say, ye pull yer weight, and ye might stay outta the sweatbox." He looks around and begins assigning tasks.
= Repairs
= Hauling Rope and Knot Work
= Runner
4: Hauling and Knot Work: Tying and untying knots in the ship's ropes and moving heavy coils of rope from one part of the ship to another, requiring a DC 10 Profession (Sailor) or Strength check and a Fatigue Check.
5: Runner: Passing messages to the crew and officers of the Wormwood in all parts of the ship, requiring a DC 10 Acrobatics check and a Fatigue Check. A character with the Run feat or a Landspeed of 40 feet or more automatically succeeds.
6: Repairs: Things constantly tear or break aboard the ship and need repairs, whether sewing sails or splicing rope, requiring a DC 10 Profession (Sailor) or Dexterity check
"Now get to it!" Scourge yells.
You follow Plugg below deck into the galley. The cramped and chaotic kitchen holds two wooden worktables, several wooden cupboards, and two small stoves against the port wall, as well as virtually every cooking utensil imaginable and a frightening array of meat cleavers. A score of chickens and three goats wander freely throughout the chamber. The kitchen is a madness of dirt, food, and knives. The stoves are perpetually lit, and large cauldrons bubble away atop them all times. A huge array of spices mingle with barrels of rainwater, two tuns of rum, cupboards full of ship’s biscuit and salted beef, barrels of sauerkraut, and a small supply of fresh vegetables picked up in Port Peril.
You spot who you assume is Kroop. He is wearing a filthy apron covered in various stains and remains. As you get closer, the smell of alcohol is staggering - it is clear this man likes his drink. Plugg looks at him with disgust before saying, "Here's your new assistant. The cap'n wants a special meal tonight - you think you can handle it?” he asks. Kroop nods and Plugg turns to leave.
”You're here to serve me, got it?” he says, his voice deep and rich. Kroop doesn't appear to be drunk at the moment, which is positive. "You do as I say and you'll do just fine. We keep this ship running with our cooking - any foul up is sure to foul us up, if you take my meaning.” He looks up the stairs to be sure that Plugg is out of sight before saying quietly, ”It’s poison, this ship, but don’t let anyone hear you say it aloud. The hull listens, see, and the cap’n hears it all. Poison the Wormwood is, though, rotten to the core. You’ll not meet a more nasty, sour piece of work than Cap’n Harrigan in all your days at sea, and his crew’s the same, ’specially the first mate, Mr. Plugg. Vicious little sod, he is. He’d take his own mother’s liver to the butcher to make pies with, he would. But they leave me alone, mostly. They know I can’t ’arm ’em. You'd be wise to keep your head down, too. Do your job. You'll be fine.”
”Well, let's get to it. Captain Harrigan must want to celebrate our departure and wants one of the ship's animals butchered and cooked for dinner. To welcome you to the crew, I'll give you that honor.” He says, handing you a razor-sharp knife.
If I can I'll guidance for an extra +1 but not sure if it'll work with a day-long check.
Akadi takes to her work with enthusiasm, stitching, splicing and patching.
She chats merrily to anyone who'll listen, and try and get a word with Alfonso if she gets the opportunity.
"Hey, ye be new here like me, perhaps it be wise to watch each others backs, 'til we get a feel for the state of the ship?"
Foddertooth takes his initial position by Captain Harrigan's side, awaiting the first message to be relayed. The man is tall and stoic, ideal characteristics for a captain of such a crew. It was high noon when the first message was to be delivered and the sun was beating down mercilessly. From then on, it was a constant race from one end of the ship to other. Foddertooth got the impression that the crew was giving him pointless messages just to exhaust and the taunt the goblin. Foddertooth takes advantage of his situation and attempts to gather as much information as possible, going through any unsealed documents, listening for information about their location and destination, and simply getting a better understanding of the layout of the ship. By the end of the day, he stubby legs are numb with fatigue. He never stopped to rest once throughout the day in the hopes of quickly moving through the ranks.
Alfonso proves to be an abysmal sailor. The ropes are hopelessly tangled and some seem to be missing or at least very badly misplaced. The other swabs are not slow in their criticism.
At the end of the day Alfonso appears calm, cool, collected, and clean. Perhaps not the wisest choice in a crowd of dirty, tired and armed pirates.
(Love the prestidigitation cantrip. Hmmmm can the cantrip coil ropes? I think there were tie, untie, and coil cantrips back in the day.)
DM Only
"Hey, ye be new here like me, perhaps it be wise to watch each others backs, 'til we get a feel for the state of the ship?"
Low voiced
"State of the ship? We are slaves under a pirate. If we are lucky they will not find us amusing for long. If they really need crew some of us might survive."
"Come now, there be no need for despair, I don't believe the wind and waves would cast me adrift with no hope of making something of it." Akadi flashes a grin.
As the day goes on, you all have the opportunity to meet your fellow shipmates and get a general layout of the ship. ()
As you begin butchering the job of butchering the pig, Fishguts’ jaw drops. ”Have you ever used a knife before?!” he asks incredulously. He steps in to help salvage the cutting. ”I’ll take care of this. You start making the fish stew. It couldn’t be easier. It’s just fish - minus the heads and bones - and water. Boil it up and get it ready for the crew.”
As you begin making soup, you grow careless with the cutting and boning of the fish. Several heads and bones make it into the water. In an effort to add some flavor, you add several healthy handfuls of salt and pepper. Fishguts come over to test your soup and nearly vomits while choking down a bone. ”What in the divines is that?!” he asks, gasping for breath. ”How in the hells did you mess up soup?!” His face goes red - at first you think he might be choking to death, but it becomes quite clear that he is furious. He berates you, calling you names you’ve never heard and using an impressive array of curses.
When he stops to catch his breath, you make your plea. His features soften significantly. ”All right then. I understand. But you’ve got to try harder. And pay attention. We’ve no time to make it better - you’ll have to suffer the consequences tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll do better.” He doesn’t clarify what the consequences will be, but when Plugg comes down to check on the new recruit, he smells the soup and sees the bones and heads floating on top. He looks to Fishguts who meekly points at you. ”Looks like our new recruit wants to poison the crew. I think you need a bit of discipline, boy. You head up above when the bell goes off.” He turns and leaves.
”Sorry, boy. We’ll do better tomorrow, eh?” Fishguts says, apologetically.
As the day wears on, it becomes quite clear that your fellow shipmates are largely messing with you. They have gravely serious faces as they hand over the notes, but as you sneak peeks at the unopened missives, you quickly discover they’re just base jokes about you and your fellow newcomers aboard. One individual in particular seems to take particular joy in causing you to suffer - Tam “Narwhal” Tate, the bulbous-nosed dwarf that knocked you out.
At a little past midday, you are tasked with running a message down to the ship’s cook, Fishguts Kroop. While you’re there, you manage to swipe a sharp, nasty looking knife from the counter, while the cook is berating Bedu’s cooking skills.
Unfortunately, all the running back and forth across the ship takes its toll on you, and at the end of the day, you’re fatigued.
As the day wears on, most of you handle your tasks quite well. Only Alfonso seems to be earning a reputation as a bit of a dandy and worthless “bilge b!%#@.” Multiple times throughout the day, Scourge walks past, scowling as the knots he was working on were worse than the time he walked by before. He snapped his whip multiple times in his direction, never hitting him, but clearly threatening that Alfonso better shape up and pull his weight.
In late afternoon, Scourge walks up, accompanied by a fat, pushy bully who was working alongside you this morning. ”I think yer right, Fipps,” Scourge says, spitting at Alfonso. ”The fancy lad looks as clean an’ fresh as newborn babe. Look at me, boy,” Scourge says, again cracking his whip at Alfonso. ”You an’ me got a date for the Bloody Hour. Maybe that’ll teach ya’ ta do a better job.” He and Fipps walk away with a cruel laugh.
As the sun begins to set, you all hear a loud ringing come from the main deck of the ship. It is coming from a macabre brass-and-copper clock, which depicts worms writhing through whale corpses. The clock makes a heavy reverberating tick each second, and chimes with haunting bells.
Everyone gathers around on the main deck. There is a nervous, anxious energy that spreads over the crew. Finally, Scourge emerges from below deck leading two individuals - a woman and a man. Both of them are filthy beyond belief, but the man's face is drawn and empty - he looks like a shell of his former self.
”’Tis the BLOODY HOUR!” Scourge screams loudly, his face beaming with delight. ”For those newly aboard, this is one a’ tha ways we motivate the crew to do their jobs. Some of ye’ newcomers need a little motivation. Alfonso, Bedu and Rosie, step forward, please. Yer the guests o’ honor fer our little celebration.”
Alfonso’s shirt is stripped off his back and he is tied to the mainmast. Plugg steps forward and says, ”This boy thought he could shirk his duties and not do his share of the work. That's unacceptable. Three lashes.” Scourge smiles wickedly and takes his place.
After he finishes with Alfonso, Bedu is led to the mast. ”This dwarf couldn't even handle the simple task of making fish soup. You’re all about to taste his failure. Three lashes,” Plugg says dismissively.
Alfonso
for
for
for
Bedu
for
for
for
After Bedu, Rosie, the halfling violinist is secured to the mast. She was being punished for insubordination (“If you would've given me my f++$in' violin, I wouldn't be f$$$in' insubordinate!”), but remains completely silent during the punishment.
As soon as the whipping is finished, one of Scourge's toadies - Narwhal, the bulbous-nosed dwarf - brings the man from the bilges forward. He is bound tightly in a rope. “Mr. Jakes Magpie here, stands accused of theft. He has admitted to his crime and accepts his punishment,” Plugg says, failing to conceal the look of glee on his face. “Before the evening meal, we will all witness the fate of anyone who dares steal from his brothers and sisters!” Without warning, Plugg pushes the man overboard.
The man is drug under the boat for more than a minute before being pulled back on deck. All that remains is a bloody mess that has been torn to shreds. He is almost immediately thrown back overboard to be fed to the sharks.
You notice the relish with which Mr. Plugg, in particular, tugs at the rope as the unfortunate Magpie is dragged under the ship.
Inspecting the body before it is thrown overboard reveals that the unfortunate Jakes took about 24 points of damage from the punishment and drowned as well.
After the Bloody Hour is over Kroop and a half-orc woman bring up the evening meal - a slaughtered pig for the officers, fish soup for the rest of the crew. The meal is largely inedible, with many of the crew forcing down the slop with angry glares in Bedu’s direction.
The five of you all naturally end up sitting next to one another, as it appears no one else wants to be seen with you. Until, that is, a striking young woman approaches your table. She closes her eyes and mutters a few words. Instantly, Alfonso and Bedu feel a wave of healing energy wash over them.
“Name's Sandara,” the woman says, sitting down. ”Hope that makes ya' feel a little better. That Scourge's a right piece of work, that one. Tried to make a pass at me last night. Earned the back of my hand for that. And, well, I earned the 'cat' for that.” She smiles easily. ”Twas worth it, though.” She has a fiery red mane of hair that sits beneath an exquisite tricorn hat. She dresses to accentuate her figure, and her whole appearance speaks of the sea, from the seagull feather in her hat to the sailor tattoos on her arms and the clay pipe thrust into the corner of her mouth. “You can't have too many friends on a ship like this, and you lot look like you could use one.”
Tearing the shirt from Alfonso's back reveals his pale skin is covered with complex tattoos.
. .
At dinner Alfonso seems to be softly talking to himself.
"From what we were told at home I expected the fearsome Shackles pirates to be different from the Hellknights. Yes, I do suppose they wear different hats."
Once Sandra arrives and closes his wounds Alfonso is better company.
"I cannot say well met, but gladly met at least. I am in your debt but this should afford a down payment."
The tattooed man mutters a few words and the priestesses soup seems covered by a sheen of oil for a moment. Once the oil clears a strong smell of garlic and peppers rises from her bowl. (prestidigitation to if not improve then at least mask the slop's flavor.)
"I am Alfonso. I had a family name but I think I will leave it on shore for now."
"A pleasure to meet you all, it appears we are at the bottom rung together, I am Akadi."
She is about to offer Alfonso and Bedu healing, but is interrupted by Sandara.
"Now dwarf, what possessed you to volunteer as cook, when it is obvious you have no talent for it?" Akadi smiles at Bedu, despite the bitter tasting stew she seems to find it more amusing than offensive.
Bedu quails when he realises his part in the Bloody Hour. The Qadiran tries not to blubber and cry when he is dragged to the mast and tied up. His only action is to quickly pull his robe off before the wetwork begins.
Crack!
"Camel's teeth on the nipples!"
Crack!
"Fleas biting on your balls!"
Crack!
whimper, whimper.
Bedu is nowhere near dead but he bites his bottom lip with the sudden pain. This is worse than the foot beating he had in the Katapeshi jail after that misunderstanding over the burglary.
As Alonso bends down to the curled Qadiran, he murmurs back, "I know food. My tongue spoke like river water over stones before I could stop myself. I can cook, I am sure. I shall do better tomorrow."
Then the pain is washed away and Bedu smiles, able to stand easily and face the world again. Oh dear! But the crew look mad.
"Please the Qadiran soup is not my finest but tomorrow we have a favourite of mine. You will love it!"
"Perhaps we could trade places, my Mother did teach me the basics. Of course if you think the cooking is easier than working hard and not getting whipped?" Akadi's eyes twinkle.
As the Bloody Hour is called, Foddertooth's nerves send surges of nervous apprehension to his head. "This no sound good..." he thought to himself. Pouring out onto the ship's main deck, Foddertooth is lost within the crowd, unable to see what is going on. When he realizes that the event has no bearings on himself, he clambers atop a nearby crate to get a better view. He can see everything happen from up there, the lashes, the cheering, the gruesome effects of a fine keelhaul. He has mixed feelings about all of this. Foddertooth can see the necessities of torture as discipline, and even enjoys the deliverance of it at times, but seeing the face on Mr. Plugg gave him a new understanding of sadism. By the end of his previous short-lived pirating career, he had grown relatively bored of pointless torture and now prefers a more combative method to releasing his inner-goblin-urges.
That night, when everyone had gathered around the meal hall for supper, Foddertooth was the last one to grab a seat. A cruel errand of pointless messages nearly had him miss the delicious soup. He saw the new members seated in the back corner of the cabin, corralled like nervous sheep. Foddertooth took his bowl of wonderful smelling soup and trotted over to the table. He lifts the bowl to his large mouth and drops almost half of its contents into his mouth, swallowing it in a single gulp. He turns to the fat dwarf, "Foddertooth no taste what they taste. This would be delicacy back home!" He quickly finishes the rest, prompting others who are still slowly working at their servings if they are done and if he can have the rest.
Foddertooth looks to Alfonso who is seated across from him and asks loud enough for his new 'companions' to hear, "Why you here? You no look like pirate. What your story?" Foddertooth's expression is a mix of inquisition and frustration as he is slightly offended to be lumped together with this unfitting man, but he knows now is the time for diplomacy.
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"Why you here? You no look like pirate. What your story?"
Alfonso answers the goblin. His voice is cold and his words slowly and clearly enunciated, speaking as one does to a child or another of limited intellectual capacity.
"I am not a pirate, though now that I am on this vessel I doubt that view would be shared by a legitimate court of law. I was drugged, kidnapped and thrown into the hold. You were there as I remember. As to my story, I am a prisoner and a slave. As are you and as are all the others on this ship save the autocrat. Slaves do not have stories or histories, we cannot afford them."
Alfonso finishes his stew of fish and occult spices. There is a wisp of grey smoke and his bowl and horn spoon are suddenly clean.
"My name is Alfonso. What is yours?"
As the well spoken outcast amongst this burly crew finishes his words, Foddertooth scratches his head, a bit lost with those last big words - "autocrat", "legitimate". He is pretty sure he got the gist of what the man said, but there was a lot that didn't make sense. He tries not to make it obvious and moves on to the following question, standing on the bench to make himself better heard.
"You no heard o' me? I Foddertooth. Used t' be pirate, but burned crew and ship in mutiny. Hard to be capt'n o' burning ship an' no crew." The goblin sits down and hangs his head ashamedly, "Foddertooth crash ship outside of port. Foddertooth sure you see it - big explosion - had to swim to port."
"Oh pirate Foddertooth, ill-fated by the stars. Maybe your past should stay there, in the past. Mr Kroop said that mention of the mutiny is a bad thing. So the Captain treats such people to the keelhaul."
Bedu has taken sometime to think about the words of Alonso, "We can speak to Plugg and Scourge in the morning. I shall be a fine sailor. I risk a second whipping and this soup is fit for rats. Only. Oh please know me as Bedu. They called me the Barber on my last ship."
"Some may say as a slave you shouldn't even have a name, ne'er mind a past. I don't see slavery as a persistent thing, ownership of all things is a transient state, especially people."
Low voiced and sarcastic
Coming from mighty Cheliax I can attest that slavery is quite persistent. Life however is a transient state, especially near Messers Pugg and Scrouge."
While speaking Alfonso fiddles with a section of cloth from his ruined shirt.
Has Alfonso seen any copper wire or candles in use on board? { }
Akadi shrugs at the strange man. "Ki sa ki pral yo pral"
"What will be will be."
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Isabella perks up at the sound of a language she recognizes. "Ou pale Mwangi lang sous la," she says, approaching the pair.
"Isabella D'Rosini. Slavery is a way of life for some, an improvement of life for others," she says with a shrug. "The elves have a saying: Ní féidir leis an cúrsa na gaoithe a athrú. The course of the wind cannot be changed."
"So I should, though you don' have the look of our people." Akadi grins.
"You handle the rigging pretty well, for a lass who looks like she belongs in a ballroom. I am Akadi, I think I missed your name."