| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Aye! Wake up ye damn rats and on yer feet!" The voice is followed by the crack of a whip and the harsh light of a lantern on your sore eyes. "Still abed with the sun over the yardarm, boys? Get up ya filthy swabs! Get up on the deck and report for duty before Cap'n Harrigan flays your flesh to sausage-skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!"
You all remember the night before--the ringing laughter of the bar, the heady joy of excess, the scents of rich stewed meat and perfume that lingered in the nostrils. Your current surroundings are not near as nice, the sickly taste of cheap wine, the hard floor you lie upon, the feeling of the room swaying as if you had too much. And above it all... a pounding, painful headache. The room you're in holds several hammocks stretched between the inner rails of what must be a ship.
The man before you holds an expression that could be mistaken for pain but after a moment you realize is an attempt at a smile. The man's beard is braided and his mouth is full of golden teeth. He's tall and thin, and even the long coat and heavy boots he wears fail to give him any impression of strength or bulk. Six rough looking fellows stand behind him with saps in their hands, obviously ready for violence from the new priso--crew.
Taking quick stock you find yourself stripped of valuables. The pirates were surprisingly thorough, and you lack even any nicer clothes, though they've not left you naked.
The man's whip cracks again and he shouts, "Move now, bilge rats or I'll start with the beatings before the captains even seen his new swabbies."
Ralo takes in his surroundings and sighs.
Here we go again...Ralo when when you learn to keep your head in the Shackles' ports?
Ralo swings deftly from his hammock and almost sticks the landing. The combination of rum and the sea have left him a bit shaky but not really any worse for where.
"I am Ralo: sailor, carpenter, and make-shift surgeon. What needs doing Bos'n?"
Zarque is smart enough to realize that now is not the time to do anything stupid. Maybe later, when we hit land.
I knew I needed to learn how to swim
"On my last I ship I was lookout, is that what I am to be doing or did you have some other task beneath m... "
Zarque suddenly realizes that now is not that the time for insults either.
"I am Zarque and I work leather if have any needing fixed."
Trying to sound useful and not in needing of being beaten.
Zaketta's head throbs as her sleep is interrupted by a harsh voice. With a moan, she lifts her head from the hard deck and cracks open an eye, slowly taking in her surroundings. She sees a few familiar faces from the Formidably Maid, but with a mouth that felt so full of cotton, she had little inclination to greet them... especially that cheating halfling.
Zaketta wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sink back into a peaceful slumber, but the harsh voice was insistent. It took her a few moments to put together his words and sort them out in her head. As she finally begins to make sense of the situation, Zaketta blinks repeatedly to clear her vision.
Not exactly how I planned to get aboard a ship, but I suppose it'll do.
Zaketta pulls herself from the deck and cracks her neck, reveling in the pleasing popping sensation. Running a hand through her long, disheveled red hair, she gives the gold-toothed pilot a contemptuous look.
When I get hold of this ship, he'll be the first one overboard.
"It's bad luck to wake a priestess of Besmara in the middle of a good dream," Zaketta says. "Best take care, friend, or you're apt to provoke the Pirate Queen."
Durvin struggles to put all the sounds together at first. The last thing he remembered was finding a place to settle in, down on the docks, and all the shouting seemed to be so far off on one of the neighboring ships. As the noise comes into focus he realizes that it's directed his way.
Through bleary eyes he tries to make out his environment, and realizes he is no longer on the docks under the open sky. He is in a ship. He sits up and looks around, taking it all in, working it all out in his mind, but nothing comes to him on how he got here.
He smiles, the smile of awe and wonder, pleased to be on the sea. It takes him little time to realize the nasty looking bunch barking commands and looking threatening are not the kind of happy crew he'd like to be signed on with. That's okay, as he's always been told, if you approach people with a good attitude your more likely to get the same in return.
He's about to speak a word of greeting and good morning, when he hears HER, and he turns his head slowly to see if truly is. "Oh, No! I bet you had something to do with this. Why did you bring me here, weren't your acts of violence and misdirected accusations enough? Why couldn't you just let it slide? Why must you be so obstinate?"
Durvin stands and dusts himself off, a scowl crossing his normally friendly features, "Well, nothing I can do about it now. I might as well make the best of a bad situation. Sir," he bows to the angry whip-wielder, "I am Durvin Tamish, trained sailor. I can mend sails, work rigging, and traverse the booms and lines like I was walking on solid ground. What would you have of me?" The ease at which he returns to a good mood is almost irritating.
Mawj blinks his eyes blearily, focusing and adjusting to his surroundings. "Hnnnn... why the head? It's always the head." He rolls over in his hammock and rubs his face, opening an eye between his fingers. He winces and starts to rub his face more vigorously. "Gt’khovt’, Irori . Neba momets’it’ gakhsna ch’ems t’valshi da ver vkhedav am sashineli sizmari."
He peers through his fingers again and sighs dejectedly. Bringing his feet around, he lopes off the bed and stands up reasonably straight. "You had to take Mawj when half his crew owed him money, didn't you? Bah, no matter now. What kind of ship is this? Fishing? Whaling? Merchant? Pirate?"
"This be the Wormwood ye great ugly tabby. Now be up and on deck with the rest or y'ell taste the lash." He cracks his whip once more to make sure you get the message, and you head up behind him. Ralo and Zaketta, even with their limited knowledge, have heard of Captain Harrigan, a Free Captain of the Shackles who spent the last decade or so attacking the Chelish shipping lanes. You are hurried up the ship, through a large, empty middle hold and up another staircase into the light of the morning.
On the Upper Deck you find yourself on a sizable ship in the middle of the ocean, far from any land. You can see the slightest haze of brown on the horizon far astern. Several figures cluster around the mainmast, looking alternatively at the new swabs and up at the higher deck at stern, where two figures stand.
One is a well muscled and heavily scarred garundi man with a shaven head, a large beard bound in golden rings, and a set of leather armor that left much of his chest bare, accented by crimson fabric and a small triangular metal eyepatch over his left eye. The other man's bearing makes it obvious he is the captain.
The other is a younger, balding man with a long black ponytail and short trimmed beard, wearing a fine longcoat open to show his chest and a well-used cat-o'-nine-tails at his side.
Captain Harrigan turns and looks over the new recruits for a moment before speaking. "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 one rule for you--Don't speak to me. I like talk, but I don't care for your talk. Follow that rule and me and you will get along fine." The Captain begins to turn and look away once more before stopping. [b]"One more thing. Even with you recruits, we're still short-handed and I'm keeping the crew I have. There'll be a keelhaulin' for anyone caught killin' anyone. Mr. Plugg! If you'd be so kind as to make proper pirates out o' these landlubbers, it'll save me from puttin' em in the sweatbox for a year an' a day before I make meat pies out of em." The moment his eyes leave you it's obvious that the Captain's mind is immediately entirely elsewhere and the feeling of dismissal is palpable.
Mr. Plugg, the ships First Mate, steps down into the front of you and looks you up and down carefully for a few long seconds without speaking. He then points to the mainmast, specifically to the crow's nest 60 feet above the deck. "Climb up there. First one up is my new rigger. GO!" He cracks his cat to make the point.
Ralo listens carefully to the captain and keeps his mouth shut. However, when the first mate tries to send him up the rigging, Ralo leans on the rail and tries to look casual; he even goes so far as to cheer on his fellows.
I ain't no monkey...
"Come now Durvin, I'm sure those stout little feet can climb that mast in no time!"
Perception
Intelligence
Mawj spits on the floor as he walks up the stairs. "Nutmeg. We must have been drugged. Mawj thinks our new friend slipped our drinks last night. He was at the tavern, gawking at us."
Climb
Climb
Climb
Climb
On command from the first mate, Mawj casually leaps up and shimmies himself up into the rigging. He looks down expectantly. "And?"
Perception
Int
Thinking that the rigging is a good place to stay away from the big people, Zarque actually tries though not very hard, having been lookout on his last ship, he doesn't mind the height or the climb.
Climb + 0
edit;
Apparently Mawj was in a hurry so Zarque let him pass.
The nutmeg goes unnoticed as it is a favorite spice of Zarques.
Zaketta nearly turns to offer a rebuke to Durvin, but their new "employer" left no time for such arguments. Making a mental note to settle things with the halfing later, Zaketta trots after the others, taking in a deep, invigorating breath of fresh sea air when they reach the deck.
Now that's a smell I never tire of, Zaketta thinks to herself. It was spoiled somewhat by an oily taste of nutmeg. Zaketta spits in an attempt to clear her mouth, but the taste remained, much to her displeasure. Being no stranger to common pirate tricks, it takes Zaketta only half a moment to put two and two together, just as Mawj himself was reaching the same conclusion.
Oil of tagget. They needn't have gone to all that trouble - they could have just asked me nicely. I guess I've got another reason to give gold-teeth a proper send-off.
Zaketta listens carefully to the Captain's lecture, and makes a note to herself to curb her normally saucy tongue around him - it wouldn't do to get on the man's bad side... yet.
Zaketta crackles her knuckles and rolls up her sleeves when Plugg gives the first task, but on seeing Mawj scramble up the rigging, she decides that there's no point in wasting her energy. Instead, she makes a passable imitation of an attempt to mount the rigging herself.
I'm no slack, but the great big kitty is probably better in the crow's nest than I would be anyway.
As Mawj mentions the nutmeg, and poison "That's what I had figured, but it doesn't make sense. Why would they drug us to get us on board? We were all looking for work. If they would have asked I'm sure we would have all hired... OH!" Durvin's general faith in all people to be good at heart is once again struck a blow.
Eager to respond in greeting to the Captain, Durvin holds his tongue after having been told not to speak. Instead he bows respectfully. When told to climb the rigging he beams with excitement. Realizing that Mawj has speed and height on him, Durvin makes a concentrated effort to close the gap and display his ability regardless of size.
He starts strong, but has a little trouble at first with the larger spaced portion of the lines and drops to the deck. He lands on his feet and gets right back at the task. He is close when Mawj reaches the goal, and he hangs his head, disappointed that it won't get to be him. Regardless, it's not the catfolk fault that he made the mistakes that he did, so he still plies him with words of encouragement. "Way to go, you are a natural climber. You beat me fair and square." He smiles at him.
Mister Plugg looks at Ralo with an ugly look. "Climb." He states once more, showing no emotion as his cat cracks forward and bites into Ralo's chest.
"Belay that." He says immediately, seeing Zarque fall and Mwaj make the crow's nest. "In the future you will listen to my order's without hesitation swab."
Luckily, even though Zarque falls from quite high, his landing is muffled by a pirate walking by with some rope. "Oooofff." The man says as the little lizard hits and they both fall.
Zarque passes out quickly, his head aching in pain. The man under him snarls and throws him off as he stands and collects his rope. "Don't interfere with my training Jakes." Master Plugg says coldly, then motions to the unconscious kobold. "Carry him back down to the crew quarters before I skin you."
Plugg waits until Mwaj comes down from the crow's nest, then asks the rest of you to line up. He walks methodically down the line and asks each of you one question. "Can you cook?"
Zarque is carried away by the man called Jakes back down into the ship, presumably to the crew quarters.
Zarque awakens quickly, a woman standing over him in tight leather trousers, a blousy shirt and with wild black hair sticking from under a tricorne hat and a prominent symbol of Besmara worn round her neck. "Careful there. You just fell from quite a height. If Magpie here hadn't been watching you'd likely be dead."
"Soooo, I'm guessing there's not enough room for two riggers?" He asks hopefully. When asked about his ability to cook, he cocks his head in thoughtful introspection, "I'm not sure, I've never really tried. This sounds like an interesting challenge. What do I have to work with?" He rubs his hands together in anticipation of the next contest.
Zaketta winces as Zarque falls, and is about to rush over to check on him when Plugg has him sent below - no doubt to receive some rough "pirate medicine."
Besmara keep your eye on him, Zaketta prays silently; she had seen how wounded crew were sometimes cared for, and often the treatment was worse than the injury. Still, something about that crewman that Zarque landed on seemed... kindly. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad for the kobold after all.
I'll have to take a look at him myself, later.
In the meantime, she had plenty of other things to occupy her attention. Despite his size, Durvish acquitted himself rather well as a climber, much to Zaketta's surprise.
"You're not half bad, shorty," she mutters to him when he returns to the deck. "You clearly know your way around a ship's rigging. And you seem to have a bit more common sense than poor Ralo."
Zaketta shakes her head gently as Plugg lashes at the half-orc.
"That won't do," she whispers to the halfling, nodding at Ralo. "On a ship like this, we've got to answer double-quick like you did."
Zaketta lines up quickly at Plugg's direction, but bristles when he asks about cooking; she had spent more time serving ale and meat to sailors than she ever cared to remember, and she had no intention of being anyone's slop-wench ever again.
"I cook about as well as the kobold climbs," she says, hooking a thumb in the direction that Zarque was carried off.
Ralo winces as the lash licks his skin.
"Aye sir! Only I didn't want to go wasting your time or mine sir! I am no climber. Nor do I cook. I work with wood and am damn good at it sir!"
After climbing back down the rigging, Mawj takes his place in line at attention. When queried, he answers quickly, "Mawj cannot cook, First Mate."
"No room for more than one. Tell you what, if a rigger dies we'll use you." Plugg smiles nastily. "You have whatever's in the kitchen. Head down to the galley, you're our new cook's boy. The rest o' you are swabs. I'll assign you all duties now." The First Mate looks around the ship for a moment then begins pointing.
"You, cat, on the upper rigging, loc it down and keep it from being pulled off. Orc, you're on rope duty, haul it around, tie it up and untie it when needed, Jack Scrimshaw'll show you the job. The girl goes to the bilges, man the pumps girlie." If any of you are slow in moving Plugg is happy to snap his cat to remind you to get quicker.
Mwaj works in the upper riggings all day. The work is fairly dangerous, but not too tough.
Ralo finds himself running about at the orders of a quiet young man with a short haircut and an easy smile called Jack Scrimshaw, who despite his lack of speech is a fairly good teacher. The work is hard and tiring, though not complex.
Zaketta's work is not one to be envied. The bilge of the Wormwood is nasty as bilges get, filled with thick cobwebs overhead and around 2 feet of dark brackish water that stink abominably. Zaketta sees six manacles of fine make fixed to the bulkheads in the forward portion of the deck. Luckily there's another sailor taking turns with Zaketta, the sailor who caught Zarque, who introduces himself as Jakes Magpie. "Got press-ganged a month ago a week before I was supposed to be wed. Now I'm stuck with these louts, but I'll make it back when I can." His optimism and cheer are infectious and he's even nice enough to warn you about the bilge spiders before one tries to take a chunk out of you. "Damn things infest this place, but there's nothing we can do without setting the whole place aflame."
Durvin heads belowdecks to the middle deck where he hears the sound of a man singing sea shanties in a horrid voice. This proves to be coming from a fat, ugly man in a cooks apron working his way about the quite cramped and unorganized madness of dirt, food and knives. The man leans over, his bushy black hair poking from around his ears and fancy chef's hat. "You'll be the new cook's boy then?" He asks, petting the big ugly black rooster on his shoulder. "Good. Needing some help down here." The cook is slurring and it's obvious he's a bit drunk, though not disgustingly so. The two small stoves against the wall are already lit and roughly a score of chickens have gathered around it contently for warmth. They are joined on the floor by two goats roaming free and one tied near the back of the kitchen. "I'm Ambrose Kroop. Crew calls me Fishguts. Can't blame 'em, this damn ship is poison, but don't let anyone hear you say it aloud. The hull listens, ye'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 most of his crew's the same, 'specially that first mate, Plugg. Vicious little sod, he is. He'd take his own mother's liver tot he butcher to make pies with, he would. But they leave me alone, mostly. I'm the only one can cook on this boat and they know I can't really 'arm 'em." The cook cleans his ear with a finger then looks around. "I'll just need your help getting this stew ready, just do what I tell you."
Climb
Dexterity
Mawj's quick feet and reflexes keep him safely aloft in the rigging all day.
Zarque wakes and looks around.
I was hoping it was all dream, I hurt. Dang cat, such lack of patience, is gonna kill him one of these days. Or me.
To the lady above him,
"Well,I never fell from the rigging before, but usually I just go to the nest and stay there though... Forgive my manners, my name is Zarque."
Durvin shrugs contentedly when given the assignment, thinking that it may just be the reward for runner-up. Moving down into the kitchen, he takes in the surroundings, getting a feel for it and making himself comfortable with the layout of where everything is put.
At Fishguts' introduction Durvin beams, happy to find that his new boss seems pretty easy-going. "Hello Sir, My name's Durvin. If you are bothered at being called Fishguts, would you prefer I called you Ambrose, or Mr. Kroop?" After the cook talks a little more, Durvin offers a word of warning. "If the Captain and Plugg are as bad as you say, wouldn't it be wise to show them that you are irreplaceable? If I do this job too well, they may just give me the position, then what would they have you do?"
As he sets about the tasks given him, he does his best to take in every detail of the room. Initially, he looks only for the sake of familiarity, but his natural curiosity gets the better of him, and he instead just wants to know what is in every nook and cranny.
All the while he sings along with Fishguts, starting at first by humming, before taking the part of the second harmony, and slowly easing into leading the song as the first part. Though his first day seems easy enough, Durvin feels that the night before wasn't a good night's sleep, and he will be better off getting one this night.
Surprisingly, Zaketta is delighted with her assignment; it may be hard work, but it shows that she's being taken seriously as one of the crew, and she applies herself to the task with enthusiasm. She particularly enjoys the company of Jakes Magpie, and as they work, she asks about his lady-love and his life before being press-ganged. She encourages the man's optimism, and comments on how, were she in charge of things on the Wormwood.
At night, Zaketta engages in a rousing game of Liar's dice with the crew, relying on her talent for deception to carry her through the betting.
"C'mon you scabby swabs! Do none of you have the stones to risk your coin against a woman?"
When Mawj begins his tumbling show, Zaketta cheers loudly.
"Now THAT'S a proper mouser! Higher, ratcatcher! Higher! she calls, egging on her companion mirthfully.
By the time Zaketta finally turns in, she's thoroughly tired... and not likely to have recovered by the next morning.
"I'm Sandara Quinn, and you chose a bad time to be on the Wormwood Zarque." The pretty priestess offers her hand to shake, and as you take it you're surprised to find that you feel fine. "Blessings of Besmara." Sandara says with a smile by way of explanation. "You'd best pretend to be injured still, odds are they'll want to know why you aren't if you come up. You're lucky I had Jakes looking out for other people who weren't completely soulless, he brought you back to the crew quarters and I healed you. Enjoy the bedrest, I have to get to work. Me, Jake and your new friends can talk after Lights, aye?"
Mawj manages to find both a quartermaster's store and an armory on the ship. The quartermaster's store was being run by a large half-orc woman with green skin, a huge scar on her neck and a large axe hanging from her back who Mawj later finds is Cut-Throat Grok, the quartermaster. After finding this Mwaj checks the armory instead. It's locked with a quite nice lock and Mawj spots the tell-tale signs of a trap on the door, but is hurried back to work before he can try his luck. His tumbling is well received and he thinks he's likely earned some respect from the crew for his antics.
"Ah, I don't mind Fishguts. Whatever you'd like Durvin. And hell yes you'd best not show me up, I need to be irreplaceable. Cap'n'd have my guts fer garters if I wasn't." The cook is amicable, and by the end of the day he and Durvin are joking like old friends. Cut-Throat Grok stops by for a bit and seems to be fairly happy to see that Kroop is enjoying himself as she takes a nip of his brandy and then heads back to her duties. It would seem that they are friends, and Durvin wonders if he couldn't make friends with the orc woman through the cook if he were so inclined. During his rummaging Durvin comes across a knife that's quite nice under the gunk. After cleaning it he realizes it is easily of masterwork quality. He also finds a very old cookbook with what sounds like delicious recipes.
By the end of the shift Zaketta and Jakes seem to be fast friends, and the young man shares that there's another priestess of Besmara on board, a Sandara Quinn, who would probably like to have a talk with Zaketta after Lights. He remains close mouthed about why but he certainly seems to grin infuriatingly.
Zaketta narrowly beats out an old dwarf with a very large nose that the other crew disparagingly calls 'Narwhal' and manages to win herself 4 gold. The crew seems quite pleased with the game and she feels she made a good impression.
Ralo is unable to deduce where his belongings are hid as a few pirates on night watch pass by when he begins to leave. He feels it's best to stay in for the night instead.
At dusk the 'Bloody Hour' sees Jakes Magpie striped once for 'Attempted theft of proper booty'. Master Scourge (the man who woke you) delivers the sentence with his gold-toothed smile at full. After Lights the crew settles into their hammocks and Sandara and Jakes show their heads over Zarque's hammock. "You up Zarque?" Sandara asks. "We need to get your friends and have a talk."
Zaketta is pleased to learn about Sandara Quinn, hoping that her "spiritual sister" will prove to be a useful ally.
"Another servant of the Pirate Queen? Well, that's likely to be for the best - you can never have too many blessings from Besmara."
She is also exceedingly happy to have curried favor with Jakes, particularly since his suggestion of a midnight rendezvous suggests some kind of conspiracy - hopefully Zaketta and her friends can join up.
"You can be certain that I'll be there, Jakes!' she reassures him.
Zaketta is eager to tuck in to a hearty meal, and finds the food to be nourishing enough, if not especially appetizing for her own tastes. She's particularly glad to get her hands on some rum, but she carefully moderates her drinking for now - the hangover from the previous evening still looming large in her mind.
While at mess, Zaketta discreetly mentions the evening meeting to her other companions:
"Jakes Magpie suggested that I might meet with this other priestess tonight. I'm not certain, but I think these two could prove to be friends to us here. Keep a sharp eye and ear open this evening in case anything goes awry."
Zaketta grinds her teeth as Scourge punishes her new friend, silently adding another item to her lists of reasons to throw the gold-toothed man to the sharks.
After a successful bought of gambling and Mawj's thoroughly entertaining performance, Zaketta is ready to drop. She collapses into her hammock and does her very best to stay awake until Jakes comes to fetch her, though in truth she could use a good night's rest.
Zarque will stay out of sight till the evening, eating in the corner, though he stays away from the rum "sharing" it with a few hvy drinkers, when they find him meditating in his his hammock, quietly, "I am awake, and I feel better. Thank you both. Now what is the disscusion topic?"
For "sharing the rum"
"The discussion is how we get off this ship. Even if you wish to be a pirate we need a better Cap than Harrigan. The man has no care, and the First Mate and Bosun are sick bastards." Jakes says without rancor. "Blunt enough, but the truth of it." Sandara Quinn says. "I don't even tell the officers what I can do. I save my healing for those that deserve it. What I'm wondering is if we have your support? Jakes here is no sneak, and the only way to get any of our gear is to get into the Quartermaster's stores. I grabbed a couple things as part of my share when you was taken in. Here." Sandara hands you a small sack. "Put a lot on the line for this, so you'd best appreciate it." Inside the sack is Zaketta's holy symbol, Zarque's dark glasses, Durvin's spell component pouch and Ralo's Cutlass. "Keep that stuff hidden, all right? Odds are we won't get more for awhile."
"Mawj desires to know what kinds of locks or traps are on the Quartermaster stores. Also, Cut-Throat is a large woman. Normally this would interest Mawj on a personal level in ways that are completely unrelated to our present predicament. However, she also has a large axe. When does she leave the stores unguarded?"
"Didn't need to know about lustful desires alright Mawj? I can silent image a distraction or cover if needed. I can sneak quite well too, best hide and seeker in Sandpoint." saying this last phrase with some amount of pride.
Ralo sits quietly and listens, trying not to betray his inner thoughts. His eyebrows raise when Sandra hands him his cutlass though, and he nods his thanks.
"Now that we have this alliance, what do we do with it? I say we distract Cut-Throat and Mawj can steal our gear back. I owe Plugg a drink since he hit me. I hope he likes salt water mixed with blood..."
Durvin smiles and shakes the hands of Sandara and Jakes, and he nods his thanks as he recieves his pouch, but his expression grows worried as each of the others speak. "Why must our actions move directly toward the hostile? I have met Grok, and despite her rough appearance, she seems to be friendly. Considering she is amenable to the cook, Fishguts, and he is a nice guy, I can probably talk to her. Maybe we can get our stuff without deceit or trickery."
He thinks about it briefly, then adds "I found this knife. It looks decent, but it's kind of big for me and I'm not prone to fighting." He looks between each of them, and settles on Zaketta. "If you want you can use it." as he offers it to her.
"Durvin's right." Jakes grimaces. "Much as I'd like some payback for what that bastard does, violence isn't the answer. Not yet. Stay calm. Make plans. Make Friends. Get Equipped. Wait for an opening. The theives ways can apply to life as well as thievery." Magpie looks at Durvin intently. "Do you think you could talk Grok into getting us our stuff back? I've heard she doesn't mind that with people she's friendly with." Sandara chimes in with, "Also, if one of you was smooth enough, you could likely convince her your gear is cursed or marked by Besmara. Grok's pretty superstitious. It's how I got my gear back when I lost it." She frowns at Mawj's question for a second. "I hear she gets pretty drunk with the cook on occasion and leaves the door unlocked. You'd just have to check at night once in awhile. You can also trade her for stuff, she has a pretty keen eye and if you picked up something elsewhere in the ship you could likely swap it with her for something or a few things of roughly equal value."
Zaketta blearily takes in the conversation, her lids feeling heavier by the moment. However, her eyes fly wide open at Mawj's unexpected interest in Grok. She stifles a laugh as she mutters, "You're full of surprises, aren't you, Ratcatcher?"
She gratefully accepts her holy symbol from Sandara and touches two knuckles to her forehead in salute to her sister in faith. It was deeply reassuring to have another priestess aboard, even if they had to keep their devotions secret.
Listening carefully to the plan, Zaketta volunteers herself to try and play upon Grok's superstitious nature. "You've all seen how good a gambler I am - I think I can probably convince her that one or two pieces are cursed. Of course, this little beauty" - she takes Durvin's knife and holds it up - "would be worth a pretty penny in trade, wouldn't it? I like a fine piece of steel as good as the next swab, but it seems like we could save ourselves a lot of trouble if we just offered it as trade for most of our gear back. In fact, if we want to get really devious, one of you could trade it to Grok, and then I could try and convince her that it's cursed - and get her to 'unload it' on me."
Zaketta takes another appreciate look at the dagger and then glances at Durvin. "How'd you swindle the cook out of this one, Durvin? Another game of dice?" She quickly holds up a hand defensively and winks at the halfling. "Just a joke, short stuff. However you got it, it'll definitely come in handy."
Turning back to their new allies, Zaketta inquires about other possible sources of support.
"It seems like we might be able to win over Grok and Fishguts, but are there any other members of the crew who might join us? I can't imagine that anyone cares much for Scourge or Plugg."
"Mawj understands, and is content to wait. The lion does not catch the gazelle by roaring before the pounce."
Durvin levels a grimace at Zaketta's joke, still not ready to find the humor in it. "The galley is an atrocious mess, and he probably didn't even realize he had it in there. As far as Grok, give me some time and if you want I could try trading her the blade. If I can get some stuff from her, what is it you are all looking for? I imagine you all want weapons?"
"Truth be told, I'd feel a lot safer in my armor, but they're likely to notice that. If you can get my darts and dagger back, that would probably do for now."
Zaketta frowns.
"We're going to need a safe place to stow our gear once we've gotten it back - does anyone know of a good spot to hide some of our larger items, like Ralo's sword?"
Ralo nods at Zaketta's question.
"I was wondering the same thing."
He turns to the halfling.
"I am happy with whatever you can manage. Truth be told, I prefer something in each hand though, and I've got a boarding axe in the quartermaster's stores somewhere with some personal significance. I'd be grateful if you could get it."
"Well it would be nice to have my spellbook and some darts, and my spear too, I can keep it with Ralo's sword for now."
He looks thoughtful, (which quite plainly looks just wrong, a thoughtful kobald? it's so wrong it's hilarious)apparently planning the end of the world or something.
"Plenty of the crew care for Scourge and Plugg. They're only bad to the ones they don't like." Jakes says, grimacing as his shoulders turn and tug at his whip wound. "Like thieves who think they're too good to be pirates." Sandara looks over with a bit of concern, but holds her tongue. "Aye, those two have got a pack of bullies with 'em, and the officers get on just fine how things are. There's a few who'd likely be with us, especially the newer recruits." Sandara lists off the sailors on the Wormwood, noting whether they're likely with or against you and a bit about them. "Could keep your blade or such in your trunk, everyone gets one, but they'll search them if they think someone has a weapon, and it's 6 lashes for anyone they catch with one, so you might find another place. Fraid I can't help you with that." As the pirate priestess speaks she pulls a clay pipe from her belt and begins pushing tobacco into it with practiced fingers, not looking at her work, and finally starts it with a whispered spell and takes a few tugs. "About time to get to bed now I think. Goodnight crewmates." Sandara touches her knuckles to her forehead in salute and then heads to her bunk, her hips swaying in a rather noticeable way. "Suppose she's the right of it. Another day of work tomorrow." Jakes stands with a stretch and then grins at you all. "I'll look for you wherever we get put, hope to see you again friends." He offers his hand and shakes any given firmly and with relish before heading to his own bunk.
Day 2
You wake to either the sound of the bell on deck or the pirates around you climbing out of bed and toward the door, grumbling unhappily. "Best get up before second bell or it's 3 stripes." A woman in her bare feet calls to you as she passes. The other pirates are ready quickly and begin to climb, but when any of you do you see four forms blocking the doorway. "Hold on there newbies. I think you'll be late today." The leader of the group says, pushing one of you in the chest. "Or me," The woman is tall and fairly handsome, though with rather large ears. "Fipps," She gestures to a fat bald man with a gleaming metal tooth who cracks his knuckles, "Jaundiced Jape" A half-orc whose skin is quite yellow and whose bright white hair stands out from it, "And Slippery Sy will put you back to bed." Slippery Sy is a small, whip-thin woman who grins at you in a disturbing way, as if savoring the fight she hopes to come. "Let's just hit 'em Aretta. Hit 'em and watch 'em bleed." Sy says with a hiss like a snake. "Hey Sy, we're just to make 'em a little late, so they can taste the whip. They'll bleed plenty tonight at the Bloody Hour." A half-dozen other pirates stand on the stairs to watch the show, some of them obviously counting time in their heads.
Ralo, in the front of the pack, receives Fipps' push with more give than he would normally allow.
"Good morning Fipps. While I respect your neanderthal need to haze the new folk, I am compelled to tell you that we are in no mood to entertain you. Move aside please."
Ralo is ready for an altercation and adjusts his feet in such a way as to prepare for blows and, hopefully to warn his companions about what is going to happen.
"Durvin, you seem to be the least suspicious and the most likely to talk his way out of a tight spot - let's stow our larger weapons and suspicious-looking gear in your trunk for now. Smaller things - knives and such - we can probably keep hidden in a pocket or such.
For the time being, I guess it's 'watch and wait.' Figure out who our allies are, see if we can bring some of the undecided onboard, and then make our move. And on that note, this little sailor needs to get some shut-eye."
Bidding her friends good-night (and giving Jakes a firm shake), Zaketta returns to her hammock to try and catch a few hours' sleep...
Zaketta groans at the sound of the bells. Between yesterday's work and late-night meeting, she is positively exhausted. Trying to shake the fatigue from her shoulders, she slumps out of her hammock and yawns widely, doing her best to rouse herself into a work-ready attitude.
Zaketta doesn't even notice the four figures standing in the way until Ralo gets a shove in the chest, pushing him back into her. Staggering backward, she blinks in surprise, taking a moment to comprehend the situation. As Aretta and her friends make their threats, the Besmaran priestess grits her teeth in anger. She cracks her neck and gives it a good stretch by rolling her head around her shoulders before replying.
"Ralo, my friend, you have to speak a little bit louder if you want people to listen."
With that, Zaketta walks right up to Fipps and throws a full-out punch at his ugly face.
Perception
Mawj narrows his eyes in irritation at the gathering bullies. He waits, knowing that other members of the party are more sociable.
Mawj growls and spring into action. "T’k’veni shenishvnebi ts’udia, da t’k’ven unda grdznobdes ts’udi!"
The catfolk monk leaps forward, aiming a fist directly for Aretta.
Unarmed attack;
Damage;
Seeing his friends attack, Ralo follow suit.
Zarque rolls under some legs to get to the other side of them and atks the one that shoved Ralo from behind.
Durvin, in nervous anticipation of what may come, begins to sing a song to calm his nerves as he backs away slightly. As his newfound allies spring to the offensive, before he is given the chance to speak, his voice rises to help calm their nerves as well.
It's a help me, Bob, I'm a bully in the alley,
Way, hey, bully in the alley!
Help me, Bob, I'm a bully in the alley,
Bully down in shinbone al!
Well, Sally is the girl down in our alley,
Sally is the girl that I spliced nearly.
I'll leave my Sal and I'll go a sailin',
I'll leave my Sal and go a whalin'.
He stops shortly after to administer a warning to all, "Careful now, if anyone dies there will be punishments for all I'm sure of it."
Zarque:
Durvin:
Ralo:
Mawj:
Zak:
Zarque, Durvin and Mawj get to go before the bullies!
Zaketta's strike barely lurches Fipps, but Ralo's follow up makes him notice the fight is on. Mawj's strike nearly knocks Aretta from her feet as Zarque gets a fairly good strike in from behind.
Fipps=5
Aretta=7