Skull and Shackles Campaign (by Moonbeam)


Campaign Journals

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Sovereign Court

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Greetings,

Here is the journal of my character - Akavar Whisperquill - as my group progresses through the Skull and Shackles adventure path. Enjoy!

Since I am a player this time around, please make sure not to reveal any spoilers in this thread. :)

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Our group is as follows:
The GM: Who previously played Lagaan in Savage Tide; played Kaeso and Hipazia in Curse of the Crimson Throne.
Granam Fletcher: Male Human Ranger, archer build. Same player as Ulfgar in Savage Tide and Manius in Curse of the Crimson Throne.
Hannibal Ring: Male Human Ranger, axe/shield build. An old friend who recently started gaming with us; he played Trinia, then Zeeva in the second half of Curse of the Crimson Throne.
Varnas Dalvares: Male Human Oracle of Battle. Played by our Savage Tide DM; the player of Ruh and Navan in Rise of the Runelords; the player of Kindrasius in Curse of the Crimson Throne.
Akavar Whisperquill: Male Elf Bard. Played by me: DM in Rise of the Runelords, Curse of the Crimson Throne, Legacy of Fire; played Belessa and Raguhl in Savage Tide.

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About my character:
Akavar was born in a society of elves on the continent of Garund, 126 years ago. While he was still quite young, a terrible cataclysm struck the face of Golarion. The lands of his people became sumberged by the raging ocean. The few survivors, among which Akavar found himself by sheer luck, fled for higher and dryer ground. Alas, Akavar’s entire family had perished in the flood. After some trials and tribulations, Akavar was found and adopted by a captain in the Chelish navy. The aged gentleman took good care of Akavar, providing him with food and an education. Things were good for a while…

But it did not last long. Cheliax was in a state of intense turmoil. Akavar’s foster father, an honorable and kind-hearted man, was a member of a faction that opposed the rise of the diabolical House Thrune. Alas, that faction was wiped out over the course of several years. Akavar’s foster father and most the friends he had made among the humans were slain by the troops of House Thrune as it finally took Cheliax within its merciless grasp. Akavar, still very young by elven standards, was forced to become an outlaw to survive. More than a common thief, however, Akavar used his wit (both in the verbal and written form) as an agitator against the rule of House Thrune. He gained a measure of notoriety thanks to the anti-Thrune pamphlets that he circulated in several major cities under his alias “Whisperquill”.

That lasted for several decades, but eventually, it became too dangerous for Akavar to remain in Cheliax and keep his head attached to the rest of his body. He sailed north and spent another few decades in Varisia, mostly working as a smuggler around the cities of Riddleport and Korvosa. Recently, his boldness grew and he returned to Cheliax with hopes of reaping big profits from a lucrative smuggling deal. That did not go well: he was caught by the chelaxian authorities and was sentenced to death. Thankfully, on the day when he was supposed to be hanged along with several other pirates and other such miscreants, a surprise attack was launched by the crew of the notorious pirate known as Wide Olga, who was also to be hanged alongside Akavar. The young elf escaped with Wide Olga’s crew as they fled toward the Shackles, seeking to escape the wrath of the chelaxian navy.

So it was that Akavar found himself in Port Peril shortly before the start of the campaign. It was his first time there; ironically, he had now returned close to the place of his birth, after being away from it for over a century. Though he had lived as a smuggler for decades, the inhabitants of Port Peril were even worse than the Riddleport crowd that he was used to. Akavar found himself in a tavern called the Formidably Maid one evening, entertaining the crowd with ancient pirate tales, when he was captured by some mysterious strangers…


Pharast 21, 4711

Welcome aboard!

I awoke on the dark lower deck, feeling like crap. Around me, several other forms were stirring in the shadows. After a few moments of confusion, it all came back to me: how I'd gone to that tavern, the Formidably Maid the previous evening. How I'd entertained the patrons with some of the many stories I've heard over my years in the trade. And how, even then, I had noticed those cold, hard eyes in a sea of wrinkles and scars.

That man...

Yes, it was all very obvious now. By the awful taste in my mouth and the skull-splitting ache I felt, I knew we'd been drugged. I'd been hoping to find some work aboard a pirate ship once I arrived in Port Peril. Seemingly, I had been successful in that regard.

The three poor fools who shared my predicament were all strong, young human lads. Clearly, we had all been chosen for a specific purpose: hard and unpleasant work. And because, most likely, we could take a beating and survive.

Of course, they had taken our weapons and money. Everything I owned, gone. Not that it had been much, mind you.

Not long after we regained our senses, they came for us. Their leader was that scarred-faced cur I'd seen the previous night at the tavern. He had a dark beard, was dressed all in black, and carried a whip. He cracked it to make sure he had our attention. Something told me that I was not going to get along with that one. With him came six scowling sea dogs with saps in their hands. Clearly, resisting was not a wise option at this time.

After giving us a warm welcome aboard the "Wormwood", he brought us on deck to meet the captain, one Barnabas Harrigan, a mountain of muscle and meanness. The captain also gave us some very "warm" greetings aboard his ship: we were basically his slaves, and any failure to cooperate would bring repercussions in the form of whip lashes, keelhauling, or time spent in reflection in the sweatbox. I gazed over the shark-infested waters and contemplated swimming back to shore. Alas, land was barely visible over the horizon. Jumping off was not an option. I might find my death aboard the Wormwood, but there's a chance I'll survive. I'll take the chance for now. Things could be worse. I could still be a prisoner of the Chelaxians...

The ship itself was of medium size, and built for speed. Quite a nice ship, in fact. This would be a really nice place to be, if not for the people running the show. We noticed that the crew was perhaps thirty people strong. Among them, four others seemed new on board, like me and my companions, though they had already been integrated somehow. The captain told us that we were short on people, so that any killings would bring severe repercussions. Even though I spotted a few women on board, he also said that anyone caught fooling around with the damsels would be punished.

Before leaving, Captain Harrigan commanded us never to address him. He didn't want to hear us speak to him, ever. Of course, the most foolhardy of my companions cheekily replied: "Aye, aye, sir!"

There were no immediate repercussions, but the captain made a small gesture to his first mate, Mister Plugg, a man with a shaved skull and a pony tail. Mister Plugg smiled sadistically as he gripped his cat-o-nine-tails. I don't know the name of this young man who talked back to the captain, but for now, I'll call him Smartass. I think Smartass will be in trouble later on.

Next, Mister Plugg gave us our first task: he needed someone to work as a rigger, so he asked me and the three others (Smartass, Hannibal and Varnas) to climb sixty feet up into the rigging. We all began our ascension. Now, I'm a rather strong guy, but I've never spent much time climbing. It's never really been "my thing" aboard a ship. But it turned out that Smartass and Hannibal clearly knew what they were doing, and they were climbing faster than me. Varnas seems strong as an ox and was also climbing fast. I did a decent job, but I knew that with one wrong step, I could fall and break my neck. And the higher I went, the more chances I had of that happening. Case in point, Smartass fell when he tried to climb too fast and nearly knocked himself unconscious.

After a while, I just stopped climbing. Mister Plugg didn't like that. He yelled at me, but I didn't obey his stupid command. Clearly, he already had his guy: Hannibal. There was no need for me to risk my skin. Still, Mister Plugg doesn't appear to be the most reasonable person I've ever met. I'm sure he'll find a way to make me pay for my rebellious display of logic in the near future.

So once this little exercise was over, Mister Plugg claimed Hannibal as his new rigger. I was expecting more such trials that would have given me a chance to show what I'm better at, but no such luck. He hastily announced that Varnas would be the new cook's assistant (on the merit of having more meat on his bones than the rest of us). That meant that, by default, Smartass and I were relegated to the most ignoble role aboard a ship: swabs. Apparently, my first task would be to perform repairs around the ship. Smartass would hunt for rats in the bilge (poor sucker!).

Before we all went our separate ways, Varnas provided some magical healing to Smartass, who was still badly bruised from falling from the rigging. Interesting, so we've got another healer on board. That Varnas guy seems quite friendly and helpful. Clearly, aboard this ship where our very lives will be in danger, he will be a good person to have as an ally. I'll try to stay close to these three young humans who share my predicament. Perhaps by sticking together, we'll have a better chance to come out of this alive.

But for now, I'll keep my own magic a secret. It's probably safer if our new "employers" are not aware of it until the opportune time.


Pharast 21, 4711 (continued)

First day of work

I spent the better part of the rest of the day making repairs around the ship. Two other crew members shared my duties: a young lad named Jack Scrimshaw, and a dark-skinned Mwangi woman named Shivikah who was quite tall for a human woman - about my height. Shivikah didn't seem very talkative, so I spent my time conversing with Jack instead. He's a nice kid who's been on board for a year or so, having had to flee Port Peril for some reason. He's apparently quite good at scrimshaw, which is, as everyone knows, the name given to scrollwork, engravings, and carvings done in bone or ivory. Jack seemed to be happy to have someone to talk to. I think he's going to be one of the few people I can count on aboard this Besmara-forsaken ship. He warned me not to cross Master Scourge, and that Mister Plugg is even more dangerous.

During the day, I caught glimpses of my other companions doing their own duties. Hannibal was up doing repairs in the rigging in the company of one of the ugliest dwarves I've ever seen: Narwhal Tate, so named for his huge and misshapen mountain of a nose. Unfortunately for Hannibal, Narwhal was about as pleasant as he was attractive, so things did not go well between the two, but Hannibal seems to be a reliable lad, and he got things done. I also noticed that he went snooping around the quartermaster's office at some point.

In the mean time, Varnas was fishing. He was able to catch a decent amount of fish. Otherwise, I heard that he spent his time in the kitchen area in the company of the ship's cook, Ambrose "Fishguts" Kroop, a depressed fat man who's spent the last eight miserable years of his life aboard the Wormwood and who had these words of wisdom to share with Varnas: "This ship is poison... Watch what you say in here, for the hull listens and the captain hears all... He's a nasty one, the captain. And Mister Plugg too... They leave me alone, 'cause they know I can't harm them...".

Varnas also became quite friendly with the ship's quartermaster, Grok, a green-skinned half-orc woman with a hideous scar over her throat. Grok took such a liking to Varnas, in fact, that she gave him his weapons and armor back, even though they'd been commandeered by the captain and now supposedly belonged to him. As it turns out, my own belongings as well as Hannibal's and Smartass's are also stored there - though we are not lucky enough to be such good buddies with the quartermaster.

As I worked during the day, I also kept an eye on the rest of the crew, to try to learn who's who. I spotted several officers on this ship, whose names were helpfully provided by my new friend Jack:
- Riaris Krine, a foul-looking dark-skinned woman with a wooden leg: the ship's Master Gunner.
- Kipper, her brown-nosed underling.
- Hallicorn the Stitcher: the ship's carpenter.
- Patch Patchsalt, a gnome woman who acts as the Bosun's Mate, which means her main role aboard the ship is to lick the dirt off of Master Scourge's boots.
- I also spotted another officer, the ship's Sailing Master, a pretty woman with the looks of a magic-user, but alas, I did not catch her name at this time.


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Bloody Hour

As the afternoon came to an end, my duties were finally done, and four of the sour gentlemen who had greeted us on the lower deck earlier this morning came to fetch me. It was clear that it was now time for the whipping I had been promised. A number of exit strategies swiftly passed through my brain in a mere moment, but they all led to unpleasant places such as the sweatbox or the stomach of a shark, so I elected to simply go along with the four fellows. Indeed, we had by then sailed so far away from the coast that it wasn't even visible over the horizon anymore. I was brought to the main deck, where I was promptly stripped of my shirt and tied up facing the mast. The entire crew was present for the show. Master Scourge proceeded to inflict "justice" upon me: three lashes. Quite painful indeed, but thankfully, I was able to remain relatively stoic; I neither cried out in pain nor lost consciousness, though it came close. Once the deed was done, I was released. I turned to gaze into the merciless dark pits that are Master Scourge's eyes. He was clearly disappointed that the "girly elf" hadn't given him a more satisfying show by begging for mercy with tears flowing down his cheeks. Still, I knew that any further defiance or provocation at this point would justify more lashes, so I merely held his gaze and calmly walked away.

Smartass's punishment followed: he also got three lashes, and also survived them in consciousness. While he was being mistreated, two people approached me with offers of healing before I could use my own magic in hiding. Varnas was the first - good man, that one! - and the other was a delightful dark-haired young human woman named Sandara Quinn: a priestess of Besmara the Pirate-Queen. I was taken aback by such a vision of loveliness aboard this miserable vessel. Talk about a sight for sore eyes! Could she really be here, or was I merely delirious from the pain? But no: she was indeed real, and her voice was as soft and silky as the touch of her delicate fingers on my skin as she healed me. Was her kindness genuine? Could I really believe her? It seemed too easy, too convenient. Ah, the temptation of Sandara's soft charms will surely test me and my companions on our stay aboard the Wormwood, where Captain Harrigan has specifically forbidden any kind of carnal exchange between the crew. Will one of us succumb to the lure of lust and earn himself (and poor, sweet Sandara) a stay in the sweatbox?

A third unfortunate soul was then brought on deck for his role in the "Bloody Hour". The young man was named Jack Magpie. He was accused of having stolen from the quartermaster's hold. The sentence: keelhauling. Jack was tied up with ropes, and Mister Plugg did the honors himself, with great pleasure I might add. It took over a minute for poor Jack to be brought on the other side of the Wormwood after an unpleasant voyage along its underside. Hannibal raced to help him, but alas, Mister Plugg had pulled so slowly, so cruelly, that young Jack had drowned, and that his skin was cut in many places, reduced to bloody pulp. The corpse was thrown overboard, and it did not take long before the sharks came to claim their meal.

So, such is the way justice is handled aboard the Wormwood…

Still better than the Chelaxians.


In the evening

Finally, after sundown came the enjoyable part of the day: dinner and leisure time. Rum flowed freely and things got a lot friendlier on deck. I spent the first part of the evening eating, drinking and sharing stories with Varnas, Hannibal, and our fourth comrade, who finally introduced himself and informed us that his name is in fact not Smartass, but rather Granam Fletcher.

It turns out that Varnas is the son of none other than Triania Dalvares, the famous pirate captain. Impressive! If some of his mother's fiery blood runs in his veins, he would be an even more valuable ally indeed aboard the Wormwood, in addition to his brawn and healing magic. I felt his hatred for the Chelaxians who had killed his mother, and I could easily relate given my own background and my recent brush with death at their hands. In addition to his prestigious lineage, Varnas appears to be an interesting fellow indeed: the wind always seems to be playing in his hair even where there is no breeze stirring anything else nearby, and one can almost hear strange whispers or faint battle-cries around him in times of silence. It is as if he is inhabited by some strange spirits of war. He claims this bizarre fact on having been the only survivor of an epic battle at sea recently, as he was chosen by the gods themselves for some unfathomable purpose. That seems unlikely to me, more like the sort of tales I like to spin to an rapt audience. But for now, I'll humor Varnas and assume there is some measure of truth to his wild story until I can learn more about him and make a more plausible diagnosis.

Hannibal Ring comes from a more humble background, and this is apparently the third time he's found himself aboard a ship such as this one, after having been either kidnapped or because of a woman's charms. Yet, ironically, Hannibal seems much more interested by the jungle than by a marine environment.

Sweet Sandara also joined us at some point, and I learned that she had become a priestess of Besmara due to an oath she'd made to the goddess to keep her father - a fisherman - safe at sea some time ago. While the goddess had held her end of the bargain back then, Sandara's father had died just three weeks ago, and to fill the void in her life, she'd found herself among the Wormwood's crew.

During the rest of the evening, Hannibal befriended a foul-mouthed little halfling woman who always carried an axe and threatened people with it. Her name was Rosie, and she had only been on board for three days. Apparently, she even threatened Master Scourge himself, yet never got a taste of the whip. Sounds like favouritism to me…

Varnas took part in some arm-wrestling competition. Using a bit of "tricksy" magic to help his already considerable strength, he defeated the one who seems to be the ship's champion on board, a Varisian man named Crimson. Apparently, this Crimson fellow doesn't enjoy losing very much, and he furiously attacked Varnas with his fists - it took four men and a stern reprimand from Master Scourge to restrain him.

I spent the rest of my evening telling tales to whoever would listen. The crew of the Wormwood wasn't the most attentive audience I've ever had, but it was better than nothing.

Sovereign Court

Here are the characters at level 1.

Reminder:
Akavar = myself, i.e. the DM in Rise of the Runelords, Curse of the Crimson Throne and Legacy of Fire; played Belessa in Savage Tide.
Varnas = Navan and Ruh in Rise of the Runelords, Kindrasius in Curse of the Crimson Throne; Toba in Legacy of Fire; DM in Savage Tide.
Hannibal = New player who played Trinia, then Zeeva in the second half of Curse of the Crimson Throne.
Granam = Manius in Curse of the Crimson Throne; Ulfgar in Savage Tide.
Our DM = Kaeso and Hipazia in Curse of the Crimson Throne; Lagaan in Savage Tide.

= = = =

Akavar Whisperquill (CN Male Elf Bard, Level 1) – Worships Besmara
Str: 17 Dex: 18 Con: 10 Int: 13 Wis: 7 Cha: 14
AC: 18 HP: 12 Fortitude: +1 Reflex: +6 Will: 0
Initiative: +8 Speed: 30’
Melee attacks: Rapier +3 (1d6+3, 18-20)
Ranged attacks: Shortbow +4 (1d6, x3)

Height: 6’3”. Weight: 180 lbs, Age: 126, Hair: Black, Eyes: Black.

Feats: Toughness, Improved initiative. (I got a bonus feat as a reward for writing the campaign log)
Traits: Forlorn, Barroom Talespinner.

Skills: Acrobatics 8, Knowledge: History 6, Knowledge: Local 6, Perform: Oratory 7, Perform: Comedy 6, Profession: Sailor 2, Swim 4.

Languages: Common, Elf, Shackles Dialect.

Spells:
Level 0: Detect magic, Ghost sound, Light, Prestidigitation.
Level 1: Charm person, Cure light wounds.

Main equipment: Shortbow, Studded leather, Rapier, Light wooden shield.

= = = =

Varnas Dalvares (CN Male Human Oracle of Battle, Level 1)
Str: 18 Dex: 14 Con: 11 Int: 10 Wis: 8 Cha: 16
AC: 15 HP: 9 Fortitude: +1 Reflex: +2 Will: +1
Initiative: +2 Speed: 30’
Melee attacks: Falchion +4 (2d4+6, 18-20)

Height: 5’10”. Weight: 198 lbs. Age: 19, Hair: Black, Eyes: Gray.

Curse: Haunted.
Feats: Extra revelation x2.
Revelations: War sight, Surprising charge, Skill at arms.
Traits: Focused mind, Buccaneer's blood.

Skills: Diplomacy 7, Intimidate 9, Perception 3, Profession: Sailor 4, Spellcraft 4.

Languages: Shackles Dialect.

Spells:
Level 0: Create water, Ghost sound, Guidance, Light, Mage hand, Stabilize.
Level 1: Command, Cure light wounds.

Main equipment: Falchion, Studded leather.

= = = =

Hannibal Ring (N Male Human Ranger, Level 1)
Str: 16 Dex: 14 Con: 12 Int: 11 Wis: 12 Cha: 10
AC: 13 HP: 12 Fortitude: +4 Reflex: +4 Will: +1
Initiative: +2 Speed: 30’
Melee attacks: Battleaxe +4 (1d8+3, x3)
Ranged attacks: Shortbow +3 (1d6, x3)

Height: 5’7”.

Favored enemies: Humans.

Feats: Power attack, Dodge.
Traits: Carpenter/Surgeon, Resilient.

Skills: Acrobatics 6, Climb 7, Craft: Carpenter 5, Perception 5, Profession: Sailor 5, Survival 5, Swim 7.

Languages: Shackles Dialect.

Main equipment: Battleaxe, Shortbow.

= = = =

Granam "Smartass" Fletcher (CN Male Human Ranger, Level 1)
Str: 12 Dex: 17 Con: 12 Int: 14 Wis: 17 Cha: 11
AC: 16 HP: 11 Fortitude: +3 Reflex: +5 Will: +3
Initiative: +3 Speed: 30’
Melee attacks: Cutlass +2 (1d6+1, 18-20)
Ranged attacks: Longbow +4 (1d8, x3)

Height: 5’9”. Weight: 175 lbs. Age: 23, Hair: Black, Eyes: Green.

Favored enemies: Humans.

Feats: ???.
Traits: Bully, Touched by the sea.

Skills: Appraise 3, Climb 5, Intimidate 5, Knowledge: Geography 6, Knowledge: Nature 6, Perception 7, Profession: Sailor 7, Stealth 7, Survival 7, Swim 6.

Languages: Shackles Dialect, 2 others still TBD.

Main equipment: Cutlass, Longbow, Studded leather.


Glad to see you back on the messageboard with a journal, Moonbeam! I'll be following that with interest. :)


Hi, I'm the DM in this Campaign. As Moonbeam wrote, I played Hipazia and Kaeso in our last campaign. I use the alias Ser Kaeso, because someone had already picked up Kaeso. So I added Ser before his name for his deeds in Curse of the Crimson Throne. Yup Game of Thrones is tonight...

Now I'm behind the screen (actually no, I don't use dungeon master's screens, but I'd use one if it would be 6-8 inches high) and I'll comment the log to add some behind the screen details without spoiling things.

We concluded our 15th game last Thursday (the players are about to enter the Grindylows' lair), so there's plenty of reading coming up, since the above posts only covered the first day.

Before starting the adventure, I made a point very clear to my players: yes it is a first level campaign but the baddies on the Wormwood are pretty high level; Harrigan is not a 3rd level NPC and my character Kaeso from Curse of the Crimson Throne would have a hard time defeating him...

I have to say that the first days on the Wormwood were fun since I can torture my players with keelhauling, whipping and so on (and I indulged myself on it...). It took time to play the first three days because I mostly told tales and history and other stuff, so we didn't cover much on the first days. So I accelerated the pace because at some point, things become very similar day after day, since only Varnas had sufficient charisma to dare (and often fail) influence NPCs on the ship. None of them have disable devices so the first trap they encountered ended up pretty bad (I rolled a 20 on the touch attack... So the players ended up working diligently.

Sovereign Court

Olwen wrote:
Glad to see you back on the messageboard with a journal, Moonbeam! I'll be following that with interest. :)

Thanks! :)


Pharast 22nd, 4711

Early morning fistfight

When the morning bell rang the following morning, it took me a few moments to remember where I was. And then it hit me like a tidal wave: the darkness, the smell of unwashed bodies in that confined space… I was aboard the Wormwood, little better than a prisoner. Damnation!

My new friends and I got ready to go up on deck, and we tried to make haste, for we had been warned that tardiness would be rewarded with more whip lashes. Sadly, the way was blocked by four unfriendly-looking individuals: the same ones who had come to get me and Granam yesterday so we could get our punishment from Master Scourge. There was a human woman with big ears among them, as well as a foul half-orc. The leader, a human male named Fips, insolently blocked Varnas’s way and shoved him back. Varnas tried to defuse the situation amicably, but in vain. Clearly, the four goons weren’t as worried about being late as we were. It seemed like a fight was inevitable, and the few other crewmembers who were still around watched with expectant glee.

I spoke a few words to motivate my companions as we faced our enemies: four against four. I found myself fighting the half-orc. I punched him, but then he was able to strike me several times. Clearly, the ruffian was no stranger to this kind of conflict. Granam was fighting a man to my right, while to my left, Hannibal was wrestling with the woman and Varnas was fighting Fips – both of them had drawn knives. Varnas’s great strength gave him a definite advantage, and before long, he struck the goon twice with his knife. Bleeding badly, Fips fell to the floor and passed out from the pain. His comrades hesitated: the woman fled, but the two men kept fighting. The half-orc finally gave me a good opening, and I struck him with a bone-crunching uppercut that knocked him out cold. Ha!

The last remaining man, Granam’s opponent, finally understood that he was on the losing side and surrendered. We let him go without making a big deal… Even though we had all been hurt pretty bad in the scuffle (except Hannibal, who’d fought the woman, Aretta), we hurried to make it on deck without even taking the time to heal ourselves. I just took a few moments to search my unconscious foe: he had nothing of value except the key to his locker. However, I’d heard that this half-orc, Jaundiced Jape, was mute, so surely there would be less of a chance of him complaining to “the authorities” about his missing key.

Thankfully, despite the interference of our peers, we made it on deck on time. Master Scourge gave us a baleful look. We were clearly bruised (Varnas had even been cut by Fips's knife), and Aretta and the man who had fled the fight had also taken a beating. Fips and Jape were missing altogether. Master Scourge looked quite disappointed that we had bested the welcoming committee he had sent our way as an attempt to justify whipping us some more. That man definitely needs to find a different hobby…


Second day

We were each given our tasks for the day. I was given swab’s duties, so I spent most of the day doing back-breaking work cleaning the decks. It was tiring, but I still found the time to go down and take a sneak peek into Jaundiced Jape's locker. There wasn’t much in it: no weapon, unfortunately. I was still weaponless, as Varnas had given his extra dagger to Granam and the one he’d taken from Fips to Hannibal. I grabbed the five gold pieces and the small agate I found in the locker, and put them into mine. He also had a flute, but I left it for him, and then I left Jape’s locker key under his hammock, to be able to pretend later that he had simply dropped it earlier in the morning. I also used my magic to heal the bruises I’d suffered earlier.

Jaundiced Jape and Fips finally made an appearance on deck later during the day. We learned that Master Scourge had ordered Sandara to heal them enough so they could work. But, even though they were Scourge’s lackeys, they still got punished come Bloody Hour, and both got three lashes. Jaundiced Jape fell back into unconsciousness from the pain – that poor fellow was definitely not having a pleasant day. Serves him right…

After sundown, we ate some dishes prepared by Varnas. He’s no great cook, but it was surprisingly tasty, especially since Fishguts, the actual ship’s cook, had spent most of the day passed out, drunk. I spent most of the evening with the Halfling lass, Rosie Coswell. She’s quite entertaining, and we shared stories. She’s apparently a fiddle player, but her instrument is also being kept at the Quartermaster’s. During the evening, a gnome dressed in an extravagant purple pirate’s outfit came to talk to her. His name was Conchobhar Turlach Shortstone, and he seemed more like an actor playing the role of a pirate than the real thing. He clearly had the hots for cute little Rosie. In fact, he seemed quite threatened that I was keeping her company. He was most unpleasant, and I believe he had been offended earlier by Hannibal. I wasn’t sure about Rosie’s feelings for him: she treated him coldly, but yet, she seemed interested on the inside.

Granam was exhausted from his long day as a runner and went to bed early. Before he did so, though, we learned that he'd observed the entrance to the officer's quarters, which is guarded by a hulking simpleton named Owlbear, who is apparently Mister Plugg's "pet".

Varnas spoke with several people to try and learn more about the Wormwood, where it was headed, and about the captain as well. He later shared what he had learned: Captain Harrigan was in fact a minor Pirate Lord of the Shackles. He owned a small island to the north. Nobody we talked to knew, or would reveal, where the Wormwood was heading, or what the ship’s objective was, if any. Yet, we were heading north. Perhaps our destination was Harrigan’s domain? Varnas also heard vague rumors about the Wormwood having attacked a Chelaxian vessel some time ago. Observing how big a proportion of the current crew had been "hired" recently, it seemed that Captain Harrigan’s crew had taken severe losses in that conflict.

Unfortunately, most of the crew was still quite hostile to us. It was quite difficult to learn much about anything. Except for Jack Scrimshaw, Rosie, Sandara, Grok and Fishguts, most of the crew were watching us warily. At least, our victory from that morning had shown them that we were not to be trifled with. Once again, Sandara ate with us during the evening: she confirmed that Master Scourge had ordered her to heal Fips and Jape after we had beaten them up. She also told us that he had made advances to her in the past, but that she had turned him down. Wiser men than us might have gleaned more information from our conversation with her, but alas, we still found ourselves quite distracted by her magnificent beauty, and sometimes weren't listening to her words quite as intently as possible. Ah, indeed, even though I know that the beauty of human women is but a fleeting dream, I cannot help but find myself all the more attracted to the lure of their youthful charms.

Varnas had also befriended Fishguts before the fat man drank himself into a stupor. He learned that Fishguts had once been the cook in a rather fancy place in Port Peril, but had lost some kind of bet to Captain Harrigan, and was now forced to remain aboard the Wormwood, even though he yearned desperately to be free. He was obviously very unhappy.


<Ding!> Checking in.

Sovereign Court

Smarnil le couard wrote:
<Ding!> Checking in.

Excellent! Sorry, I haven't had the chance to read your Age of Worms journal in ages! What adventure are you guys in at the moment?


Moonbeam wrote:
Smarnil le couard wrote:
<Ding!> Checking in.
Excellent! Sorry, I haven't had the chance to read your Age of Worms journal in ages! What adventure are you guys in at the moment?

Well, they are wrapping up #4, Hall of Harsh Reflections (with so much changes and add-ons that you wouldn't probably recognize it). They nicely fell for every sucker trap I put in place for them.

It's a just reward for hard work when the DM can point every clue the players saw but failed to analyze, and tell them that they COULD have avoided a lot of trouble with a little forethought... Hope they got the message and will be more proactive next time.

Sovereign Court

I hope you gave an evil GM laugh when you pointed this out?


Moonbeam wrote:
I hope you gave an evil GM laugh when you pointed this out?

Bwaaahhaaahaaahhhaaa ! (tm)

But please, don't derail your own thread further...


Pharast 24th, 4711 (day 4 aboard the Wormwood)

Bilge rats

Two more days passed aboard the Wormwood, and we started settling into an unpleasant routine, always fearful of Master Scourge's whip, enjoying the evenings where rum flowed freely and laughter echoed around the deck, and dreaming of mutiny while we worked during the day, but not daring to hope, not yet...

We became more familiar with a few more members of the crew:
- Barefoot Samms Toppen, a human woman from the Sodden Lands, where I was born, long ago.
- Tilly Brackett, another human woman with a love for jokes and pranks.
- Gifford Tibbs, a one-eyed, bedraggled gnomish woman who had a very hard life and served on other pirate ships before, some of which were even worse than the Wormwood.
- Maheem, a perpetually scowling man from Rahadoum, that godless country.
- Badger Meddler: a middle-aged half-elf woman with partly shaved gray hair.

We also learned that Ambrose Fishguts, a human man in his mid-forties, got his cook's training at the Lobster's Armor in Port Peril. He has a strange fondness for chickens, of which he keeps many unusual specimens, as well as three goats who frequently roam the kitchen. Likewise, we also learned that the foul-tempered Varisian named Crimson is a devout follower of Pharasma, the goddess of death.

Varnas tried to befriend more people, but unfortunately, he fared poorly and seriously angered both Crimson and Badger Meddler, swelling the ranks of our enemies aboard the ship. Thankfully, this evening, though, we dined with little Gifford Tibbs, that unfortunate gnome woman. She seemed touched that we genuinely questioned her about her past, and comforted her. It seems rare that people give her any kind of attention. The poor little thing seems as depressed as Fishguts.

Today, my friend Jack came on deck with a wild look in his eyes. He had been bitten by something nasty while doing his chores in the bilge. Mister Plugg sneered and ordered me and my new companions (Varnas, Granam and Hannibal) to investigate. The bilge was permeated by a foul smell and an oppressive, humid heat. We spotted the dark shapes of several giant rats busying themselves in the murky water.

Artillery mistress Riaris Krine turned out to be utterly useless and uncooperative when we requested ranged weapons from her, but thankfully, we were able to convince quartermaster Grok to return to us some of our weapons. I was able to get back my bow and a dagger. Better than nothing.

After shooting a few arrows at the giant rats, the foul rodents scurried up the ladder and attacked us. I provided moral support for my companions, but alas, I failed to strike the swift rodents with anything but a single arrow. Thankfully, my allies fared better, and before long, our furry enemies had all perished. Hannibal, Granam and Varnas were all bitten, and I fear they might risk contamination from the diseased vermin... I was mercifully spared such a predicament.

We spent some time searching the bilge, which was dirty work, but rewarding: we found three heavy maces, an old leather armor, and a handful of silver. I wonder why those items were still down there. We took the items with us: I inherited from one of the maces, a clumsy and simplistic weapon, but one that is surely more intimidating than a mere dagger. Varnas and I also sabotaged the six pair of manacles that were affixed to the walls, just in case we ever found ourselves punished down there (a somewhat likely event, I'm afraid...)


Pharast 27th, 4711 (day 7 aboard the Wormwood)

Rising storm

In the evening, two days ago, Mister Plugg graced us with his presence on deck, parading his “pet”, Owlbear. Many members of the crew teased and mistreated the hulking simpleton. Mister Plugg turned toward our group and began to taunt us into a bare-knuckles match against Owlbear. It worked, for Varnas enthusiastically volunteered. At first, I thought things looked bleak for Varnas, assuming that Owlbear was surely some powerful expert of hand-to-hand combat. I wagered one of my hard-earned gold pieces on the behemoth. Alas, it proved to be a poor investment, because Owlbear was in fact blind in one eye, and it was a relatively easy task for Varnas to dodge all of his blows and smack him several times with strong punches of his own.

Mister Plugg, who had clearly stated that any kind of interference or help (including magic) would be punished, cheated by tossing a club to Owlbear. Varnas drew his own dagger as well, but did not use it. He struck Owlbear again with his fist, and when the larger man finally had enough and tried to flee, Mister Plugg and his cronies tried to stop him, but Varnas kindly announced to Owlbear that the fight was over. He was able to collect his prize: well over a hundred gold pieces. The crowd cheered, and even the captain had witnessed his victory. Later that evening, Varnas went below deck and healed Owlbear’s wounds. We also befriended Tilly Brackett.

The following day, the wind began to grow in strength, and rain poured on deck. It seemed that a storm was slowly approaching. We worked hard yet again during the day, and Varnas got into a fight with Crimson. It was a close one, and they were both badly bruised by the time Mister Plugg intervened. At bloody hour that night, Master Scourge whipped both of them unconscious. Once the show was over, I reanimated Varnas. Sandara hovered close to him during the evening and flirted with him, which only infuriated Master Scourge even more. That day, Varnas also bought me my armor and rapier back. What’s more, Barefoot Samms Toppem joined our circle of friends.

Today, the rain got even stronger, and it seems that we’re about to be stuck in the middle of a furious storm. The captain has been working with one of the female officers to prepare the ship and crew for the ordeal. Mister Plugg seems quite useless in comparison. Perhaps his only skill resides in bullying people.

Alas, to make things worse, Hannibal and Varnas have both fallen sick from infected wounds they suffered when we fought the giant rats a few days ago. The evening was quite muted tonight, as most people sought to rest instead of playing, knowing that the next twenty-four hours will probably be quite arduous. We tried to befriend Shivika today, but alas, she took offense and joined instead the growing ranks of our enemies aboard the Wormwood.


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Pharast 28th, 4711 (day 8 aboard the Wormwood)

The storm's fury

The wormwood was tossed heavily during the night, and were all fortunate to sleep in hammocks rather than beds. Nevertheless, our sleep was a fitful one, for the howling wind outside was a presage of things to come. We knew it.

On the 8th day of our journey, the storm hit us with its full force. Granam believed that we had been heading west so far, and were now somewhere in Senchu Bay. We were too far from the coast to seek shelter. After the toll of the bell, we ate a too-small ration of cookies, and then we were off to work.

What an ordeal that day was... Most of the crew were fighting the storm non-stop. With more sailors on board, we could have worked in shifts, but it would not be possible in our case. Mister Plugg and Master Scourge ensured that we worked tirelessly during the entire day and night, threatening those who shirked their duties in the usual fashion. Not only was this day a test of endurance, but also one of agility as the chaotic wind threatened to throw us overboard at every moment, and one of skill, for our actions in maintaining and repairing the Wormwood as it struggled through the storm would dictate whether we sank to the bottom of the ocean or lived to see another day.

We lived. I'm not sure exactly how we did it, but we lived. Even though every moment was a fight for survival, the hours seemed to stretch endlessly. I was first assigned to rigging repairs. I spent the entire day climbing the rigging, risking to break my neck at any moment. Thankfully, my elven reflexes saved me from an ignominious death, splattered on the deck of the Wormwood.

The captain was doing a good job steering the vessel through the storm, and most of the crew were handling themselves well also. My three usual companions performed similarly well. Alas, little Rosie Cusswell was seemingly too light for her own good, and one of the stronger gusts of wind carried her overboard and tossed her into the hungry waves. I rushed to the side of the ship, making sure to keep her tiny shape in sight, as she struggled to stay afloat, limbs flailing wildly against the surging current.

"Halfling overboard!"

I tossed her a rope, but the gale and the distance made the attempt futile. What could have been her salvation fell many feet away from her. While the others approached, I tossed her a second rope, but yet again, it failed to reach her. Then, Hannibal volunteered to go fetch her in the water. We quickly tied a long rope to one of his ankles, and he dove into the sea! The lad's got a good heart, and he sure is a good swimmer. In under a minute, he reached the tiny lass and took hold of her. Rosie also impressed us by staying afloat for so long in such difficult conditions. Once Hannibal had secured her, Granam, Varnas and I pulled on the rope and dragged them both back on deck. Thankfully, Rosie had survived the ordeal with nothing worse than an interesting story to tell her grandchildren one day!

The fiends who run this ship only gave us the briefest pause as the evening began, while we wolfed down a few biscuits each, trying to regain some of our strength. And a new shift began. We worked throughout the evening, and this time, I was assigned to work on the upper rigging, an even more dangerous task than before. Truly, if Mister Plugg wants me dead so badly, he might as well stab me with a knife, rather than going in this roundabout way.

It was a feat in itself for me to survive the vertiginous climb in the railing, with the mighty wind struggling to cause my demise, but Besmara smiled upon me, and I survived!

A few hours later, darkness had truly fallen. Most of the crew struggled against yet one more obstacle: darkness, though in this regard, my elven heritage once again gave me an edge. Alas, though, my weary muscles threatened to abandon me at any moment. I was finally running out of energy. But that was, of course, not enough to convince our overseers to let us catch a breather. The entire ship was still in danger because of the storm.

And so we worked, through the entire night... We worked... we worked... and we worked.

I was assigned to line work this time, something much safer, thankfully. It was dull and tiring, but at least it wasn't dangerous. My companions did not fare so well, though. Varnas and Hannibal were both as tired as I was, and they fell from high up. Varnas miraculously landed on a heap of ropes, which broke his fall. Hannibal was not so fortunate, and he nearly cracked his skull as he fell from the highest section of the rigging unto the deck. Thankfully, Sandara was able to save his life. He was brought down below, barely conscious, where he would rest for the remainder of the night. Lucky bastard!

A few other accidents like this happened all around me, as the crew grew progressively more tired and suffered from the lack of visibility.

Only Granam seemed to be impervious to the fatigue, and he kept on working with good spirit, taking Hannibal's role in the rigging.

Throughout all of this, Captain Harrigan stoically remained at the helm of the ship, steering it in order to avoid the worst of the waves. As much as we can complain about this miserable predicament, at least we are fortunate to have a captain as talented as he is... Otherwise, we might all be fish food by now.


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Pharast 29th, 4711 (day 9 aboard the Wormwood)

No random deed goes unpunished

The day seemed to stretch forever, as I was alas completely exhausted by then. Looking around as we gathered on the deck after the morning bell, I saw that most of the crew were also very tired. Granam was in fact one of the few who still seemed to, somehow, be unaffected by the many hours of hard work we had done since the previous morning. Today, the storm had abated, and the weather could simply considered "bad": strong winds and heavy rain, but no ship-threatening storm. For once, we received some positive reinforcement in the form of the captain congratulating us for our courage and skill in having saved Rosie.

I was assigned below deck to rat-catching duty, which suited me fine. In fact, six others were also assigned to such a task; why, I do not know.

As I hunted what few rodents remained on the ship, I heard the sounds of commotion coming from below. As the evening finally arrived, I saw Granam and Fips come up from the bilge, both sporting fresh wounds. Granam told me that he had found a purse of gold coins, which Fips had tried to steal. Both had dealt a knife wound to the other in the resulting scuffle, but Granam's strong blow had discouraged Fips from further attempts at larceny. Not long after, a cat-sized arachnid had snuck up on Granam and had bitten him; yet, thankfully, Granam had pinned it to the wall with his knife and had resisted the critter's venom.

Alas, Granam's woes were not over yet. Fips and him had done a poor job draining water from the bilge, so each got three whip lashes, rendering them unconscious. Varnas and I healed Granam as best we could, but the foolhardy young man addressed Master Scourge with an appeal at logic that was doomed to fall on deaf ears:

"Sure, you find that there's still too much water in the bilge," argued Granam, "but part of the problem is also resource management. See, you assigned seven people to rat-catching duty, which would seem low-priority to me on the day after a dangerous storm, yet only two people were dedicated to draining the bilge. I mean, it seems like people are just assigned to tasks randomly - what do you do, roll dice at the beginning of the day?"

Master Scourge simply looked at Mister Plugg, then back at Granam, before simply saying: "Sweatbox."

Most of us headed to bed shortly after dinner, as we were exhausted, but poor Granam spent eight hours in the sweat box. It wasn't so bad, it seems: its interior isn't as hot during the day, and he still had a few hours to rest in his hammock when they let him out in the middle of the night.


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Pharast 30th, 4711 (day 10 aboard the Wormwood)

Not enough turtle

With the storm behind us, and having had a chance to catch some decent sleep, things were back to normal aboard the Wormwood. Well, as normal as can be. Granam thinks we're heading south, toward Blood Cove, to raid a part of the Shackles frequented by many merchants vessels. He told us we were now south of Motaku Isle, the largest island in the Shackles. At some times during the day, we could see land on either side of the ship.

In the evening, there wasn't much to eat. Fishguts served us turtle meat, but the portions were small. It seems that our comrade Varnas is to blame for that, as he didn't catch enough meat during his daily duties. Master Scourge severely reprimanded him, but thankfully, no whip or sweatbox was involved. During the evening, we spoke to a rat-faced halfling with long arms and three missing fingers: Ratline Ratsburger. He was the only remaining crewmember (barring officers) who wasn't yet clearly one of our allies or enemies. Things went well, and I think we'll be able to count on his help from now on.


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Pharast 31st, 4711 (day 11 aboard the Wormwood)

Too much crab

Over the past few days, Varnas and Hannibal have been suffering from the sickness they contracted from the bites of the giant rats. Granam has been trying to help them fight off the disease with basic techniques of healing, but this morning, Hannibal looked quite pale and ill.

I was assigned to working in the bilge today, along with Granam, Varnas and a few others. The place seems a veritable treasure trove, as yesterday Granam found a masterwork handaxe down there, today he found a flask of holy water, and Varnas found a tanglefoot bag.

Later in the day, Master Scourge came down to fetch Granam and myself and brought us on deck, where we stood next to Hannibal and Sandara. We saw that the ship had left the canal and was now in more open water. There were many coral reefs in this region. We were told that the captain wanted to eat crab tonight, we were each given a small bucket and told to swim to the coral reefs and fetch some crab for the captain.

Feeling that this mission was somewhat frivolous, but knowing better than to question our tormentors, we stripped down for the swim, keeping a bare minimum of clothing and a sharp weapon each. It was certainly an enjoyable perk to be in the company of a quasi-nude Sandara, even if the ever-present threat of the sweatbox ensured that my companions and I remained professional at all times. But what potent temptation!

We reached the reef after a short and thankfully shark-free swim. We began gathering crabs, which wasn't very complicated. Alas, things couldn't have remained so simple for long, and two rather large lobster-like monsters soon came out to defend their territory.

"Reefclaws!" announced Granam.

I've indeed encountered, fought, and even tasted such creatures before, as we had them even as far north as Riddleport. A brief confrontation took place. I used my magic to bolster our attacks; even Sandara fought with a rapier: a true priestess of Besmara, that one! Most of us were clawed by the creatures, but only Hannibal was truly badly wounded, and what's more, the poor lad was poisoned. I killed one of the vermin with my rapier, and Granam slew the other one with his dagger. Sandara than called upon Besmara, and a wave of healing energy washed over all of us, completely healing us. Wow! That worked a lot better than the paltry healing spells that Varnas and I have been using. Truly, this girl never ceases to amaze me!

We decided to bring back the two Reefclaw carcasses with us, as they taste even better than crab. The captain was very pleased with our catch and even rewarded me with a potion of healing! All in all, a very successful day...


Akavar Whisperquill wrote:
"Sure, you find that there's still too much water in the bilge," argued Granam, "but part of the problem is also resource management. See, you assigned seven people to rat-catching duty, which would seem low-priority to me on the day after a dangerous storm, yet only two people were dedicated to draining the bilge. I mean, it seems like people are just assigned to tasks randomly - what do you do, roll dice at the beginning of the day?"

This one cracked me up!

Seems like the DM has a kind heart : I would have thought that making fun of him (err, I mean, of the bosun) in such a way was well worth keelhauling!

Sovereign Court

hehe ;)

I felt a bit bad about this one, because Granam's player was absent that game, and I was the one who was responsible for this comment that got him punished.... but I couldn't resist. ;)


Moonbeam wrote:

hehe ;)

I felt a bit bad about this one, because Granam's player was absent that game, and I was the one who was responsible for this comment that got him punished.... but I couldn't resist. ;)

As the wise man knows, "absent PCs are always wrong".


Rosie's gratitude

We dined well that night on the Reefclaws we'd brought back. The atmosphere was quite joyful, and Sandara sneakily poured a magic potion into Hannibal's drink. Our comrade's frame comically shrank to the size of a halfling. Of course, this was all part of a ploy that brought him below deck, where little Rosie had been waiting for him. She wished to express in a physical way her thanks for saving her from the storm. I think it's safe to say that this was by far Hannibal's most enjoyable evening aboard this ship. Rosie seemed to have fun too: I could even hear her from up on deck... Where I of course swiftly diverted everyone's attention with a tale of an epic sea battle.

Gozran 1st, 4711 (day 12 aboard the Wormwood)

Boarding practice

Today, we did something useful for a change: the entire crew participated in a boarding practice, under the orders of the uncouth Riaris Krine. Indeed, the Wormwood is a fast ship, but in order to achieve that, it's quite a bit lower than most vessels that it preys on. It then becomes crucial, during a raid, that the crew be able to swiftly climb aboard the higher enemy ship.

We took turns going down into a life boat, throwing grappling hooks at the Wormwood, and then trying to climb aboard, while the rest of the crew threw things at us. I was teamed up with Granam. Things actually went quite well for me: I fell on my earliest attempt, but then quickly got back aboard the lifeboat and succeeded on my second try. Alas, Granam did not fare as well, and found himself in the water on several occasions. Varnas and Hannibal had a bit more difficulty than me, but they managed in the end. In fact, Varnas would've fallen back into the water, but he moved with surprising speed, no doubt due to magic, just at the very end.

At Bloody Hour, those who had performed poorly were rope-bashed by Master Scourge. Alas, that included our poor friend Granam. Hannibal had the unwise idea of asking Master Scourge: "Hey, Scourge, why don't you try that exercise and see how you do?" The next few minutes were rather unpleasant for the young man, who Varnas and I revived with our curative magic some time later.

As a group, we tried to intimidate Conchobhar the gnome later in the evening (after a most foul fish stew), but the little creature seemed unafraid. It seems quite clear now that those that we count among our enemies won't be swayed back. They're quite irremediably hostile to us now, as is of course Master Scourge, who assigns us more and more on unpleasant duties, in a misguided revenge for having had the audacity of pleasing the captain with our catch of Reefclaws.

Gozran 2nd, 4711 (day 13 aboard the Wormwood)

An arrow in the gut

Another tiring day working in the bilge... Damn you, Scourge!!!

After dining on badly cooked pig (damn you, Fishguts!!), Varnas and I kept watch and acted as a distraction below deck, while Granam and Hannibal snuck into the Quartermaster's office to get the rest of their equipment back. Unfortunately, we became aware that something had gone wrong, and when we investigated, we found Granam lying on the floor in a pool of blood. The tip of a broken arrow was protruding from his abdomen. Hannibal had done what he could to stop the bleeding, but he was no great healer. Granam had fallen victim to a trap protecting one of the chests containing the equipment under Grok's care.

Varnas and I used our magic to heal Granam, but we dared not open other potentially hazardous chests, and Granam resigned himself to trade with Grok on the morrow. Using my Prestidigitation spell, I removed the traces of blood, and we left the place looking much as it had been before our tempering... Except for the arrow missing from one of the chests' trap.

Gozran 3rd, 4711 (day 14 aboard the Wormwood)

Trading with Grok

Working in the bilge again today (!!) with Granam, we were attacked by another one of those monstrous spiders. We dispatched it swiftly, but unfortunately, Granam was bitten before the thing expired.

Later, we visited Grok's quartermaster store, this time in plain sight. I examined the items stored with a Detect Magic spell, and noted a variety of magical items, from potions to weapons and armor. Grok was aware of the nature of almost all of them, so we were only able to fool her into trading us a (unbeknownst to her) magical candle. For this, Granam traded the masterwork axe he had found in the bilge some days ago, and he retrieved the rest of his equipment as well. We also learned by observing Grok that the chests holding the precious goods are indeed trapped. She was puzzled by the arrow missing from the first chest's trap, but Varnas was thankfully able to trick her into believing that it had been disarmed a long time ago.

DING: The characters rise to level 2.


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Gozran 4th, 4711 (day 15 aboard the Wormwood)

Two against one

A wave of sweltering heat has fallen upon the Wormwood, one that even the sea winds cannot lift. All day long, the crew worked under this heavy, humid, inescapable heat, which makes our back-breaking burdens even more difficult than usual. To make matters worse, Master Scourge relegated me to working in the bilge again. And to make things worse still, Fips and Jaundiced Jape were assigned as my team mates, and to truly make things as bad as possible, Mister Plugg confiscated my dagger on the way there.

Once we were down in the suffocating, stinking space at the bottom of the ship, my two colleagues wasted no time in drawing their knives to threaten my very life. I fled, suffering only a glancing wound from Fips. Once at the top of the ladder, I closed the lid and blocked it with Fips's locker - hoping they'd spend the entire day in the unbearable heat, without any ventilation at all. I quietly headed to the kitchens, where I kept company to Varnas, who was busy preparing the evening meal, under a total lack of supervision from Ambrose Fishguts, who was passed out drunk. I took the liberty of borrowing one of the sharper kitchen knives to replace my missing dagger. It's actually quite sharp... and will prove a better weapon, so I traded up, in fact. For the first time, I noticed that Ambrose's kitchen is well-equipped, and I couldn't help but wonder how he and his underling are able to so consistently serve us food of such deplorable quality, given the tools they have at their disposal.

Come Bloody Hour, Fips obviously accused me of having ignored my duties. I tried to convince Master Scourge that it wasn't the case, and our overseer, in his great and fair wisdom, just ended up shrugging and having us both whipped.

Once that was done, I healed my wounds quietly and spent the evening brooding in the darkness at the edge of the lantern lights... While my magic could restore my body, I had no such powers to combat the sense of deep hopelessness that was slowly beginning to settle upon my soul. Was I damned to spend an eternity aboard this miserable vessel? I, of course, contemplated exacting vengeance upon my tormentors, yet we had been quite thoroughly informed that the punishment for assassinating another member of the crew was keelhauling... So, alas, it would require quite a convoluted stratagem on my part to eliminate the likes of Fips and Jaundiced Jape without attracting Master Scourge's notice and ire. No, the time was not right... Not yet... For now, I could only wallow in impotent rage.

During the evening, sweet Sandara graced us with her company, and told us more details about her life, until recently spent wholly at Hell Harbor, on the island that has been controlled by the ex-Chelaxian Admiral Arronax Endimyon for the past ten years. Varnas is also from that part of the Shackles, as was his famous mother. Smiling darkly, I once again reminded the beautiful young Sandara that she was a powerful temptation for all men aboard this accursed ship, and that it was only because of the threat of the captain's punishment that neither myself nor my companions had tried to get more familiar with her so far.

Eventually, we retired to the dark hold, and one by one, those around me fell into an exhausted sleep. But this night, I stayed awake longer than all. Sleep eluded me, for I was still gripped by rage. Within the shadowy stench, I fantasized about getting up and slitting the throats of my enemies... But no... I could not... I should not...

For now, I would merely whisper names... The names of those who would, Calistria willing, one day feel the sting of my vengeance.

"Master Scourge... Fips... Jaundiced Jape... Mister Plugg... Aretta... Captain Harrigan..."

Gozran 5th, 4711 (day 16 aboard the Wormwood)

Ship ahoy!

Another day suffering the cruel heat, but thankfully, Master Scourge finally relented, and I was assigned basic duties as a swab. I'd never thought I would be happy to find myself in that role, but being up on deck, and feeling the occasional stirring of the wind, was a blessing on this scorching day.

Varnas did not fare well, for he failed in his duties of hunting turtles... Our meal was but a watery substance which may have contained small amounts of actual turtle... Alas, the young lad was whipped for this inadequacy.

"Ship Ahoy!' suddenly rang a cry in the air. The monotony of the trip was broken, and for the first time in over two weeks, we finally spotted another ship. After some time, the captain announced that the crew would work in shifts through the night to pursue the vessel yonder. A wave of excitement washed over us, as we hoped to finally get a chance to see a different kind of action than that brought by Master Scourge's whip...

Gozran 6th, 4711 (day 17 aboard the Wormwood)

A prey, at last

The Wormwood did not disappoint me today: it is fast!

Overnight, we caught up almost completely with our quarry: a merchant vessel from Azir, the capital of that godless land called Rahadoum. Captain Harrigan grinned wickedly, spying that our foes were but half a mile ahead of us now. Their ship was wider than our own, and likely laden with heavy, and hopefully valuable, goods. Harrigan ordered Varnas and Fishguts to slaughter a few pigs and to spill their blood in the sea, to lure sharks to the vicinity: he wanted to prevent the Rahadoumi from trying to swim away once their defeat became imminent.

I was pleased when Riaris Krine approached me and told me I was to lead a strike force on the stern castle of the enemy vessel. I assembled a skilled team to perform that task: Granam, Hannibal, Varnas and Sandara. I was allowed to bring five others, and for the fifth spot, I'd have loved to bring someone trustworthy like Rosie, but instead I chose Fips. Yes, Fips; for something tells me that an unfortunate accident might befall a member of our team during the battle...


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Hi Moonbeam

How nice to see you're writing again. Very exciting stuff, as usual.

I've finally started my Curse of the Crimson Throne campaign and I've begun my own journal on these boards. Though I can't claim your writing skills, I hope you'll give it a read. I've borrowed some of your CotCT ingredients, so you might recognize some of your additions to the story in the future.

Sovereign Court

Nice, that definitely sounds like something worth following!
I hope your campaign goes well. :)


The stern castle

The Wormwood swiftly approached the vessel from Rahadoum. Missile fire was exchanged between the two ships; Granam showed us his skill with the bow, and he is quite fast indeed. Hannibal and I provided some assistance to him with our own bows. But, for the most part, we took cover as we readied ourselves for boarding. The enemies fired several projectiles with their ballistae, but they had little more effect than making small holes in the Wormwood's sails; nothing to be alarmed about. Our artillery officer used her magic to suddenly cover the enemy ship in a think cloud of fog. This caused most subsequent missile fire to become random and mostly useless. The fog would remain during the entire battle, and be a source of both protection and extreme frustration.

Moments before we boarded, Varnas called upon whatever strange powers he prays to and became imbued with powerful boons, the most visible of which was one that caused him to grow to a gigantic size! Raising his mighty falchion high with a rousing battle-cry, he launched himself overboard and easily landed on the deck of the enemy ship. Not quite so long-legged, but much lighter and more agile, I swiftly followed him, using my bardic magic to enhance the abilities of my companions.

I heard a loud splash behind us and noticed that Fips, buffoon that he was, had fallen into the water. Being more cautious, Sandara chose not to jump, but instead took the longer route via a rope and grappling hook; some time later, she made it on our side of the battle, while Granam and Hannibal provided covering fire.

Alas, the very first thing that happened on the enemy ship was that Varnas was badly wounded by a crossbow bolt. In fact, he almost perished right there and then, despite his enormous stature. He spent a few moments healing himself, while I searched for our enemies in the fog. I found one of them, a thick-bodied fellow who was busying himself reloading a heavy crossbow. He had already been wounded by one of Granam's arrows. He dodged my rapier and retreated further up the stairs of the stern castle. I followed cautiously, hearing the noise of the battle in the middle of the ship behind me, where the main force of the Wormwood had boarded.

"Behind you, captain!" bellowed Varnas. I could not see what happened, but would later learn that Varnas had spotted a ruffian about to attack Captain Harrigan from behind, and had shouted a warning at the last moment.

I finally found my prey: the burly man shot a crossbow bolt at point-blank range, but I dodged it nimbly, then ran my rapier through my foe's chest, and that was the end of him. I heard another cry of pain to my left, and knew that Varnas had recovered from his wound and slain another enemy.

I passed the wheel and saw that Sandara moved to secure it. Continuing my ascension, I reached the top of the stern castle, where I faced two enemies. For some time, I parried their blows and avoided any injury, but I was surely not in a favourable position. At that moment, the fog was to my advantage, for defence was my main concern, but overall, we all agreed that the damnable fog was a nuisance, especially to poor Granam who was basically blind the entire time. We all sincerely hope that there won't be such a hindrance in our next raid!

I heard another splash, a curse, and then a series of screams from the water between the two ships. Though I couldn't see it at the time, I would later hear from Granam that Fips had climbed back aboard the Wormwood, tried to cross again, fallen again, and on his second trip in the shark-infested waters, had finally been noticed by the deadly predators... and had perished in the sea, without having even set foot on the enemy ship, without having been in danger of any kind from our enemies, and without having been the victim of any of the nefarious schemes that I had been contemplating in order to eliminate him. No, that poor unfortunate fellow had only his own ineptitude to blame for his demise. Truly, Besmara sometimes works in mysterious ways...

Giant Varnas came to my aid and slew one of my assailants, and I severely wounded the other one. Realizing that he was last crew member standing on the stern castle, he wisely threw down his weapon and surrendered.

"Help! Guys, I need help at the starboard lifeboat!" came a melodious but tense woman's cry. Sandara was in trouble!

Varnas immediately rushed to her aid, but I stayed a moment longer, having noticed the dastardly look in our prisoner's eyes: of course, he had planned on reaching for his weapon the instant I turned my back. Not trusting him at all, I struck his head mightily with the pommel of my rapier, sending him sprawling on the deck, out cold.

I rushed downstairs to aid the damsel in distress, but fortunately, my companions already had the situation well under control. Varnas had already killed one of her three aggressors, and Hannibal (who had crossed over with Granam) had killed a second one with his battle-axe. Before I could do much, Varnas's oversized falchion swung down and separated the third Rahadoumi sailor's head from the rest of his body.


Screams in the fog

Our objective was successful: we had secured the stern castle, and now, we must ensure that no foes returned to take control of the wheel or the two lifeboats. For a while, we simply guarded these points, our vigilance being severely hampered by that damnable fog. We heard the sounds of the battle still going strong on the rest of the deck. We vaguely saw the shape of Captain Harrigan coming out of the enemy captain's cabin, clutching a blood-dripping heart in his meaty fist.

Suddenly, three more enemies rushed toward the port lifeboat, which Hannibal and Granam were guarding. Their leader was an athletic Rahadoumi woman armed with two shortswords. Alas, she was quite a bit more skilled than the rest of the merchant vessel's crew, and she gave us a lot of trouble. She swiftly disabled Hannibal, then beset the unfortunate Granam, who steadily retreated up the stairs of the stern castle, firing his bow at the woman, but he missed with every projectile due to ... that damnable fog!!!!!

Sandara used her magic to revive Hannibal while Varnas and I finished off the other two Rahadoumis, then went to help Granam. Alas, the woman eluded us and avoided most of our blows. It was then Granam's turn to fall to her blades. Varnas saved him from death with a timely healing spell, then regained his normal stature as his spell of enlargement expired.

My own bardic magic had by then ceased to bolster our attacks, due to the length of the battle. I tried to use other spells to vanquish this infuriatingly nimble Rahadoumi woman, but she cannily resisted both my Hideous Laughter and Charm Person spells. She fought like a cornered tigress, wounding both Varnas and myself, but eventually, our luck turned. Varnas slashed her thigh, I pierced her abdomen, and Varnas swung his falchion in a deadly arc, beheading her.

Would that we had taken her prisoner, she might have fetched a hefty reward, but Besmara willed otherwise... And so this anonymous Rahadoumi officer, who might have bested us all if not for our healing magic, perished valiantly on the deck of her ship. May her soul rest in peace wherever atheists dwell in the afterlife...

Sunshine and silence returned at last to the deck of the Rahadoumi vessel. The fight was over, and the Wormwood's crew was victorious! Our enemies had all been slain or captured. We saved those who were still alive, for they would make good slaves or even recruits to bolster our own ranks. In all, ten sailors were taken prisoner. Sandara healed the entire crew's wounds with her channelled energy.

In the following hours, we looted the ship, whose cargo consisted mostly of quality food, spices and wine. Captain Harrigan divided up the loot, and rewarded our team richly for our contribution, especially since Varnas had warned him about the impending backstabbing. We received over three hundred gold pieces each, and magic potions. We were also given a protective amulet that Hannibal promptly won in a game of dice.

Then began a celebration for our victory, and the merriment would surely last all the way into the night, and well into the following day as well!


Gozran 7th, 4711

Man's Promise

The Rahadoumi vessel we had captured was called Man's Promise. Its cargo was loaded aboard the Wormwood, and we learned that the new ship would be sold in Port Peril for a substantial sum. We explored most of it, except the captain's cabin, which was off limits for the crew. We did not find anything interesting aboard. The prisoners were kept in the bilge.

A day and a half of festivities followed our victory. Rum flowed freely, and we had never felt so free since that dreadful day we had woken up aboard the Wormwood. It was good to have a chance to relax. Granam wanted to use this occasion to eliminate one of our enemies, but the chance did not present itself. Along those lines, I was questioned by Captain Harrigan regarding Fips's disappearance, an interrogation helped by some kind of invasive divination magic cast by Peppery, Harrigan's magic officer and old friend. Thankfully, I had nothing to hide, for Fips really had died without any sort of foul play on our part. Yet, I cannot help but wonder how much Peppery saw within my mind.

Our time of leisure seemed like a good occasion to finally get closer to Sandara, but alas, it appears that thick arms and round ears are both mandatory criteria for winning her over. One would have thought that it would bode well for Hannibal, but alas, he had no such luck. She rejected us both, seemingly infatuated with our comrade Varnas. To make matters worse, poor Hannibal was even turned down by Rosie (!), and by the end of the night, he had sunken to such a level of despair that I overheard him mentioning the name of Cut-throat Grok....

Disappointed by Sandara's narrow-mindedness, I ended up spending the night with Tilly Bracket. It was a good thing that I chose to spend that night in a woman's company, for it seemed that the chance would not present itself again for quite some time.


Gozran 8th, 4711

No more mister nice Plugg

At the ring of the bell the following morning, we all hurried on deck. The prisoners were also brought there. Captain Harrigan announced that Mister Plugg would be the acting captain of the Man's Promise, and that he would take a skeleton crew with him to navigate the vessel back to Port Peril to be sold. The Rahadoumi prisoners were offered the chance to join Harrigan's crew. Some accepted, some refused. Nodding quietly, Captain Harrigan announced that those who refused would be sold for ransom, or spend the rest of their lives at sea, and to underline his point, he threw overboard one of the poor schmucks who had refused his offer.

Several more captives volunteered to join his crew in the following moments.

Plugg chose his dear Scourge to serve as boatswain, and picked those who would form his crew. Among them were Sandara, Rosie, Ambrose Fishguts, Owlbear, Crimson, Conchobhar, Aretta, Jaundiced Jape, Jack Scrimshaw, Gifford Tibbs, Granam, Hannibal, Varnas and myself. Cut-throat Grok would stay on the Wormwood and seemed so sad to see us go that she gifted us a magic potion that Granam later won in a game of dice.

All in all, we now had a crew of twenty for the Man's Promise, which would be barely enough. Mister Plugg wasted no time in explaining that the rules aboard this ship would be quite similar to those of the Wormwood, except that there would be no rum served and that we would be confined to quarters after Bloody Hour. Oh, and that we would get lashes from his cat-o-nine-tail instead of Master Scourge's plain old whip.

Splendid.

We wistfully watched as the Wormwood got smaller and smaller in the distance. Who would've thought we would ever be sad to be off that ship?

The day was dreadfully boring. Granam and I were charged with cleaning the bilge, which was as leaky, foul and spider-infested as that of the Wormwood. Truth be told, Granam actually did very little work, and I found myself exhausted at the end of the day, having worked so hard. Yet Granam paid for his laziness by being Mister Plugg's first victim...

Once he had been healed by Sandara, we headed down to the hold, where most of us would spend the night. Some crew members had been given nicer lodgings upstairs. Among them were our friends Jack Scrimshaw and Gifford Tibbs, who would sleep with Aretta and Jaundiced Jape. Since there was plenty of room in the hold, we wondered why. Mercifully, Ambrose had smuggled a cask of rum aboard, and he gave us a small drink each. Emboldened by this small quantity of liquor, Granam quietly crept upstairs and spied a conversation that was being held in the captain's cabin between Plugg and his cronies. They spoke in Chelaxian, which Granam did not understand, but they seemed to have been plotting something... What could it be?

As Granam said, the only thing that soothes our worries about getting our throats slit in the dead of the night is that Plugg needs every one of us to man his ship...

And now we find ourselves drifting to sleep at the end of our first day aboard the Man's Promise... Deeply longing for the good life we had aboard the Wormwood.


Gozran 9th, 4711

Where are we going?

Granam and I spent the entire day in the bilge, yet again. Granam did very little work while I labored until I was almost ready to collapse from fatigue, yet again.

This time, however, we had some help in the form of the lovely Sandara and the very un-lovely Aretta. We tried to question Aretta regarding what had been discussed in the captain's cabin the previous night, but she refused to divulge much, even when she fell prey to my Charm Person spell.

At Bloody Hour, Granam tasted the sting of Mister Plugg's cat-o'nine-tail once more. After Sandara had healed him, we retired to a corner of our abode, below deck. Hannibal and Ratline Rattsberger informed us that they had noticed that we had veered off course: we were now heading east, not at all toward Port Peril. Their educated guess was that we were going toward Bloodcove, that large city controlled by the ruthless Aspis Consortium, slavers of the foulest kind. That left us wondering what Mister Plugg's plans were. Did he mean to sell Man's Promise over there, making a large gain for himself and thereby betraying Captain Harrigan? Was that what he had discussed with his cronies?

Sandara grimly suggested that perhaps Mister Plugg meant to sell some of us off as slaves at Bloodcove. We could not permit that to happen, and she stated that a mutiny might be in order. We all looked at each other, slightly surprised that she had voiced out loud what had been weighing on all of our minds. We agreed that it would likely be necessary. I asked her to perform an augury on the morrow and to see if Besmara favored this plan. We guessed that the crew was around evenly divided between those who would help us in a mutiny (Ambrose, Sandara, Rosie, Giffer Tibbs, Jack Scrimshaw, Ratline, Barefoot Samms Toppen and Tilly Bracket) and those who would side with our dastardly captain and oppose us (Master Scourge, Aretta Bansion, Badger Meddler, Conchobhar, Crimson Cog, Jaundiced Jape, Maheem, Shivikah, Slipper Sly Lonegan, Tam "Narwhal" Tate, and the simpleton Owlbear, who was still Mister Plugg's pet despite his affection for Varnas).

Ambrose offered another possibility: not far from Bloodcove was a small outpost of around a hundred inhabitants called Rickety Squib. It was a semi-secret base where pirates could get captured vessels repaired and altered: given a new identity, if you will. That was another likely destination for the treacherous Mister Plugg, who perhaps meant to change the appearance of Man's Promise to avoid or delay retaliation from Captain Harrigan. In fact, if our mutiny was successful and we took over the vessel, this would be a good destination for us as well.


Gozran 10th, 4711

Getting ready

Another pointless, back-breaking day in the bilge with Granam. Hopefully my last one.

Rumors are now running amok on the ship regarding our change of course. Mister Plugg and Master Scourge are saying nothing, dismissing the crew's concern.

Besmara has remained silent concerning the feasibility of our rebellion. Could the atheistic aura of Man's Promise be preventing Sandara from communing with her goddess properly? No matter. We've decided to strike during the coming night, for better or for worse. We'll wake an hour before the bell usually rings. We'll knock out our enemies who sleep below deck as silently as possible. We'll then move up and try to surprise Master Scourge when he comes out of his cabin to ring the bell. At that point will begin the battle against him, Mister Plugg, Owlbear, Aretta and Jaundiced Jape, but at that point, we'll hopefully outnumber them two to one. Giffer Tibbs and my friend Jack might find themselves in the thick of battle, but, as they say, you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.

Bloody Hour saw the flogging of Ratline and Badger. Varnas also did an especially poor job of hunting turtles, as he had done in the past. Master Scourge shouted at him, promising him an agonizing day in the bilge on the morrow. Varnas and I exchanged a quick look and smiled discreetly.

"We'll see..." said Varnas under his breath once Master Scourge was gone.

We went to bed early that night, in preparation for our early-morning mutiny... We were very excited. For better or for worse, things were about to get a lot different aboard Man's Promise!


Gozran 11th, 4711

Change of plans

... Or... not.

We were woken up in the middle of the night by the movement of the waves heaving the ship to and fro, the howling of the wind, and the furious drumming of the rain upon the deck. A storm had snuck up on us! Ah, Besmara, what dreadful timing this was! Why? Why??!!

Alas, our survival depended on the entire crew's efforts, so we hurried up on deck to ensure we survived the tempest. The mutiny would have to wait for another day.

Throughout the rest of the night, and the entire day, into the following night, we all worked tirelessly. I was first assigned as lookout, making the vertiginous climb up to the crow's nest, where I was mightily tossed left and right by the ship's movement. A weaker person would have emptied his stomach, but I prevailed. The wind blasted me continuously with water, and I struggled to keep my keen elven eyes on our surroundings. On several occasions, I spotted some reefs ahead of us, and I shouted directions to the crew below. I do believe I saved us all this day, and from my vantage point, I was struck yet again by how pathetic a captain Mister Plugg is. He does not have the ability to mobilize the crew as Captain Harrigan did, and, truly, what inept captain lets himself be surprised by a storm? Really!

Morning came, but the storm did not abate. On the contrary, it picked up in strength during the day. I was relieved from my post and assigned to work at rigging repairs. It seemed to last an eternity, and I was perched aloft, trying desperately not to fall or be tossed overboard, as I worked on my task. The hours stretched on endlessly and every one of my muscles turned to lead. I could barely move anymore.

But the storm was relentless. The smaller crew members such as Rosie and Ratline could barely move against the force of the wind.

I spent the second half of the afternoon on line work, until day receded into night. I numbly and dumbly worked as twilight settled on the rain- and wave-swept deck. In time, my mind grew as leaden as my legs, my arms, my fingers... The ropes began to blur in my vision, but still, I kept on working... with shaking fingers... until the ropes became as heavy as stone. The deck rocked back and forth... and back... and forth... so tired... so very tired...

...

I'm not sure what happened. I must have lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, a comely, if a bit blurry, female face was gazing down upon me. I lay in Sandara's embrace: she had revived me with her healing magic. Ah, that blessed, magnificent, elf-snubbing priestess!

I groggily got back to my feet, thanked her with a curt not, and headed toward my next task, obeying Master Scourge's hoarse barks. I found myself passing the tired-looking shapes of my companions Hannibal, Granam and Varnas when suddenly, we felt some thuds on the deck nearby and heard some inhuman voices raised in hostile squealing. We turned and beheld a half-dozen small, bluish things that looked to my eyes like the offspring of a goblin and a squid.

"Grindilows!" exclaimed Granam as he beheld the monstrosities.

"It's nice to have a name for them," I thought as I reached wearily for my rapier.


Gozran 12th, 4711

Victims of the grindilows

I awoke in the shadows, my body aching painfully in a myriad of places. I was in the ship's hold, in a gently swaying hammock. A moment of anxious oblivion swept over me, but then came the memories: the battle against the grindilows, these small, disgusting beings with their spears and teeth and tentacles... I remembered the fight on the storm-tossed deck, I remembered that my companions and I all lost our footing while battling these tentacled foes. Armor and ranged weapons would have been a boon in such a battle, but alas, we were not equipped for combat. We had been struggling against the storm for many longs hours: we fought with only the light weapons we carried in our weary hands.

I fell, I was stabbed, I was bitten. My rapier pierced the abdomen of one of those bluish abominations, and it expired with a vile shriek. But then another took its place, and a terrible pain came immediately with it.

I thought I'd died... but... seemingly it wasn't the case. I looked down and saw that my shirt was open and covered in blood. A fresh wound was visible in the middle of my chest: it was a miracle that I was still alive. I could tell that I had received some magical healing, from Varnas or Sandara, I did not know which at the time. Ironically, I still possessed all of my magical energy. I healed myself more thoroughly (though still not fully - not yet), and then I spent my last spell on the inert form of Granam, who was also resting not far from me. His head was wrapped in bandages: if I'd had to guess, I would have said he had fallen from the rigging. Around us were more moaning or unconscious crew members, but alas, I lacked the power to heal them all.

As I was pondering whether to go back on deck to help the rest of the crew, or to retire back to my hammock to try and recover from the fatigue that still gripped me, a sudden and terrible shock shook the ship, almost knocking me off my feet. We had hit something!

In the tumultuous minutes that followed, I was rejoined by Varnas and Hannibal who described to me the battle against the grindilows: four of the creatures were dead, the other two having jumped overboard in fright. Varnas had cured me, as well as the others. He was out of healing energy, just as I was. We were all tired, so very tired...

Hannibal went below, then announced upon his return that there was a breach in the lower deck. The ship would need to be repaired, otherwise it would sink once we'd cleared the reefs. Mister Plugg gave orders for the repairs to begin. Then we became aware of the absence of two more crew members: the lovely and ever-so-useful Sandara, and my young friend Jack. Damnation! Why did it have to be those two, when there were so many people I'd sooner be rid of aboard this damnable ship?

A short investigation produced Sandara's holy symbol, suspiciously abandoned on the deck, and some traces of grindilow spears having impacted the nearby railing. Clearly, our friends had gotten captured. The storm had been so chaotic that the rest of the crew had not even realized we were under attack until Varnas and the others told them.

Granam was now back on his feet, but he was still wounded in several places. He had also been badly hurt by the grindilows, to say nothing of the thirty-foot fall he had taken but a few hours ago. He seemed to be somewhat of an expert when it came to grindilows. He explained that they were amphibians who usually laired in half-submerged caves. Their primitive societies were ruled by "queens". It was his hypothesis that Jack and Sandara were likely still alive, but captives of these wicked creatures, who surely meant to offer them as a meal to their queen. If we were to see them alive again, we needed to go after them promptly!

We turned to watch our surroundings. We had gotten stuck on some reefs that surrounded an island with two hills, a low one (around 200 feet) to the east and a high one (around 2000 feet) to the west. We were currently on the north side of the island. If this place had a name, none of us knew it.

When we initially presented our plan to go on the island to rescue our friends, Mister Plugg was, unsurprisingly, a complete and total ass: he refused to spend any time or resources looking for them; he considered them lost at sea. He expressly forbade us to go after them.

I was ready to convince my friends to sneak off in the middle of the night, the following night, but Ambrose joined us on deck, wearing a grim expression. For a moment, I thought that the worst had happened: that the cask of rum had gotten perforated, but thankfully, things were not quite so dire. It was only our reserve of drinkable water that was leaking.

This forced Mister Plugg's hand: he needed some people to go on land to fetch some water. I was assigned to this duty, along with my three usual companions. He told us to take the cutter to row to the island. Given the time it would take to repair Man's Promise, he gave us 48 hours to accomplish this mission. I wasn't too worried about this deadline, though, as he would be a damned fool to sail off with six missing crew members in these conditions.


First look at the island

It seemed that the island was surrounded by coral reefs, at least on the north side. While Varnas and I rowed, Granam and Hannibal stood watch. The water was very clear, but the riptide currents were treacherous, making rowing (and surely, swimming) in this region quite tricky. On the way to the shore, we passed by several half-submerged skeletons that had been decorated with scrimshaw and runes. Apparently, this was a custom among grindilows. So it seemed indeed that there was a colony of them nearby.

"Look at these bones," said Granam. "Notice the trauma they show. It's because they've been gnawed by the small teeth of these vicious creatures as they removed the flesh of their victims. Yes, the grindilows are mean, but they're also artistic. We can consider this place as some kind of museum for them."

The closest stretch of the island presented no good places to go ashore, so we rowed closer to the middle of the island. We reached a beach close to the ruins of an old fishermen's village. The place had seemingly been abandoned for several decades. Overgrowth now covered a good portion of the twenty or so mud huts. The roofs were long gone. To our left, we spied the remains of an old building atop the lower hill, which looked like a fist. Had it been a beacon, once? To the south stretched a salt swamp. We wondered briefly what had happened to the inhabitants of this place, but got our answer almost immediately: they were the decorations in the grindilow "museum".

Even though time was of the essence, we were all way too tired to venture further into the island. We were wounded and fatigued from having battled the storm and the grindilows. Varnas and I were depleted of magic. We needed to rest, otherwise we'd just end up being overwhelmed by the grindilows. Perhaps we could take shelter into one of the least miserable-looking huts for a few hours?


The Fist

Upon further consideration, we decided not to sleep in the fishing village after all. There were too many mosquitoes, and we likely faced a thoroughly unpleasant, or even lethal, stay so close to the swamp. Instead, we took advantage of the daylight hours and traveled to "the Fist", that low hill to the east, despite our state of weariness. It took close to an hour, but we finally reached the summit. There, we found the remains of an old moldy beacon, as well as some torches and tindertwigs. We could see the Man's Promise, still stuck on the reefs, to the north. But more interestingly, we could now get a much better idea of the layout of the island from this vantage point.

We were are the tip of a peninsula that was mostly covered by a filthy swamp cloven in two by a wide river that ran along its length, flowing down from the Fist. This terrain would definitely be difficult to traverse on foot. Further lay a wide jungle, and the entire western side of the island was shielded by a rocky formation, the extension of the "bigger hill" we had observed earlier. Near the summit of that rise, we could see what appeared to be a small wooden stockade. We noticed a pathway leading to it from the jungle. Not too far from there was a beach, one of the few landing spots on the island. We also saw what seemed to be a field in the middle of the jungle. We wondered: had the survivors of the village taken refuge on top of the mountain, trying to get further away from the amphibious grindilows?

We could have made our way there already, as there were still a few hours of daylight ahead of us, but we were much too tired, wounded and bereft of magical energy. The timing was unfortunate. We ended up resting around eighteen hours, until the sun rose the next morning.

During the night, we were only troubled by a few mosquitoes. Were heard the sounds of nocturnal predators from the swamp below, but none troubled us on the promontory.


Gozran 13th, 4711

Those who came before us

In the morning, Varnas and I used our freshly regained magic to heal most of our wounds. Alas, Varnas himself looked worse for the wear: he was pale and sweating, having apparently contracted some kind of affliction from the bites of the mosquitoes during the night.

We made the arduous journey along the coast at the edge of the foul swamp, back to the fishing village, where we had left the cutter. We boarded it and proceeded to row around the eastern tip of the island, all the way down to the beach. It was strenuous work and took all morning. It was a good thing that we had recovered our strength during our prolonged rest.

We reached a beach of fine white sand. This could've been a pleasant place to stay, if not for the looming menace of the grindilows and the sense of urgency we felt: Jack and Sandara's lives were in danger, assuming we weren't already too late! We hid the cutter among the undergrowth beneath the fifty-foot-tall palm trees. But as we did so, three enormous crabs, the size of very large dogs, noticed our intrusion on their territory and attacked us!

The fight was swift but intense. I aided my companions with my bolstering magic and my rapier. Varnas was the strongest of all, destroying two of the crabs with his mighty falchion. Despite his illness, he fought with fury! Granam struck one with an arrow, but poor Hannibal got pinched quite hard by one of the crabs, despite the protection of his shield. For a few moments, he could barely move, his face twisted in pain from the pressure of the pincers; but then, his battle instincts took over: reaching into his boot, he drew a hidden knife, which he drove into his tormentor's brain! The big crab released its hold as it died and Hannibal was free once more.

Varnas and I used more spells to patch up our wounded friend. Alas! The day had just begun and we were already almost depleted of energy!

We located the path that led into the jungle, noticing that it did not seem to have been used recently. That seemed ominous... After some time, we reached a fork: one branch led ahead, likely to the wide clearing we had spied from the Fist. But we took the path to our right, which led up into the mountain. After some time, we reached the wooden stockade. It, too, had clearly been abandoned for some time, though it did not seem quite so ruined as the fishing village. Entering cautiously, we took note of a few buildings, but our attention was drawn to an elaborate telescope that still stood on one side of the palisade. Examining the contraption, we noticed that it pointed to a bay on the south-western shore of the island. Peering into the device, Granam exclaimed that he could see signs of activity: grindilows! So we had found their lair at last, and to confirm our suspicions, Granam reported that one of the villains was sporting Sandara's tricorn...

We also noticed that a mast could be seen protruding from the waves, below and to the west of us: so another ship had wrecked on this island... We spent the next few minutes dismantling the telescope, for such devices are quite precious to have on board a ship: Mister Plugg has none. We wondered if we would be able to conceal it from our miserable overlord, or if he would claim it for himself upon our return. We also noted the presence of a cascade of fresh water close by: our secondary objective on the island was to fetch some fresh water, but that seemed a triviality for us, since Varnas is able to conjure an infinite quantity of water with his magical powers.

Finally, we entered the abandoned shack. A foul stench of putrefaction assailed our nostrils. Within the darkened abode swung the still form of what had once been a man: dressed in chelaxian finery, the corpse hung from the rafters. The only civilized inhabitant of the island we had encountered so far seemed to have ended his own life. A journal lay on a nearby desk, hinting at a possible explanation for the chelaxian's disturbing suicide. We noted that his death could not date back more than a few weeks, otherwise upon rotting, the main part of his body would have fallen down, becoming disjointed from its neck.

We examined the place cautiously. Our nerves were on edge. Sensing some magic nearby, we found a ring of unknown origin and powers. Neither Varnas nor myself were able to determine its purpose. With a quick toss of the dice, I gained this hopefully potent item for myself! I shall wear it upon my finger henceforth, hoping that fate with reveal its use before too long.

Then, we gathered our courage and inspected the foul corpse with no small measure of trepidation. To our horror, the thing suddenly animated, for it was not fully dead: it was, rather, a most foul un-dead monstrosity! With a fearsome rasp, the creature grasped at Granam while we struck to end its unholy existence for good, hacking at it with our blades. Varnas and Granam almost retched, so affected were they by the monster's atrocious odour. Grabbing the young archer, the undead heaved itself up, and finally became free of the chelaxian knot that had kept it attached to the ceiling. It landed back on the ground deftly, but before it could attack us, Varnas struck once again: it was a mighty blow, and the chelaxian sailor found true death at last.

Reading the journal, we learned about the fate of those who came before us. As we had guessed, the man we had just killed had come to the island aboard the ship which had wrecked to the west nearly three years ago. The vessel, named the Infernus, had come from Cheliax. Aboard it had been two ghouls, which are sometimes used as shock troops among the chelaxian infernal army. The creatures escaped from the wreck, and it seems that the affliction known as ghoul fever became transmitted via the mosquitoes of the island. The first humans so infected were three harlots who had traveled aboard the Infernus. Now turned into ghouls, the women killed most of the crew. Only the sailor that we had just now killed escaped, and made his home here upon the mountain's summit, where the ghouls seemingly did not wander. He claimed they considered the swamp as their domain.

Since then, the man had lived as best as he could, even working on a plantation deeper in the jungle: that "clearing" we had noticed earlier. But, recently, he had become infested by the ghoul fever as well, through a mosquito bite. Crushed by his horrible predicament, he decided to end his life: alas, something went wrong, and we now surmise that he did not perish from the hanging. Rather, he must have survived in atrocious fashion, hanging from the ceiling for hours or even days, until the ravenous madness overcame him, and he lapsed into undeath. What a terrible, terrible way to go...

Varnas became even paler as he realized that he, too, had perhaps contracted this disease. We all watched him warily... wondering if we would have to put him down before he became one of ... them.

Disturbed by what we had just read, we nevertheless did our duty as looters and took whatever weapons and jewelry we could find before leaving the shack with the intension of heading down to the bay where the grindilows dwelled.

Yet as soon as we set foot outside the building, two odd man-shaped plants dropped down next to us and attacked!


Downhill

Granam later identified these beings as "vine chokers", creatures smaller than a man, but with long, extremely flexible arms that can be used to strangle their victims. We wounded both monsters, but they were able to nearly asphyxiate Hannibal and Varnas into unconsciousness. Taking them captive, the chokers climbed up the trees that were their home. Granam and I were able to slay both of them with arrows, then climbed up the trees quickly, as our companions were both precariously hanging from branches. At any moment, they risked plummeting to their deaths! Using the last of my magic and two potions of healing, we were able to resuscitate Varnas and Hannibal. Thankfully, we found some treasure in the choker's nest, including a wand of healing.

We then spent a portion of the afternoon climbing down the west side of the mountain, from the stockade to the bay where the grindilows laired. It was a difficult trip due to the steepness of the terrain and the amount of thick undergrowth. Varnas cut a path with his falchion, swinging left and right ceaselessly, but my ancient elven heritage kicked in, and instead, I found myself moving more in tune with the layout of the trees around us... Letting myself be guided in a natural way.

We encountered several nasty critters along the way: a giant praying mantis, an assassin vine and two slime molds that were covered with various types of fungi that Granam found fascinating. We are now quite close to the cove of the grindilows. Sheer cliffs, between 40 and 80 feet in height, surround this land-locked sinkhole among the porous stone. The water inside it is churning and of an almost black color, indicating that it should be somewhat safe to jump down into it. Climbing back up might be more challenging, though...

For now, we will rest so that Varnas and I can recuperate our magical powers. It is now late afternoon. Tomorrow around mid-day, the Man's Promise is scheduled to leave the island. Time is of the essence, if we don't want to become prisoners of this island like the chelish sailor who became a ghast...

(ooc: Ding! The characters rise to level 3!)


The grindilows' lair

After resting and healing ourselves, we ventured into the grindilows' lair. It was around midnight, and the tide was rising; we were now close to high tide. We made our way down into the sinkhole using a rope we had secured to a nearby tree. Only Varnas eschewed this careful way down, jumping into the water with a great splash. Once we were near the surface of the water, we were beset by eight foul flying pests: stirges! They began to suck our blood, so we went under the water's surface to get rid of them. As they detached themselves from our bodies, we killed two of them, but still, they had done some damage: all of us were weakened from blood loss.

Beneath the surface, we found two tunnels leading into the rock. One of them led toward the sea, so we took the other one. We made our way through a series of low tunnels filled with seaweed and bits of floating bone, some of which were decorated like the scrimshaw fetishes that surrounded the island. Thankfully, there were some air pockets here and there, so we were able to keep breathing. Yet we were unlucky in the sense that we made our journey into the caverns at high tide, meaning that the tunnels were almost completely submerged, making our progress much more difficult.

As we soon found out, combat was also much more challenging because of that fact. We entered a large cavern with a deep floor. It was carved to resemble the insides of a great marine beast. As we crossed the entrance, I fell victim to a trap that consisted of hooks attached to algae. I found myself momentarily hindered, as eight grindilows descended upon my allies with a maniacal glee in their beady little eyes.

I was able to free myself and to step back into the corridor, where I had firm footing. I began inspiring my friends with a tale of battle, but they were in a bad position: about to be surrounded by the small enemies, and they had no firm footing. What's more, we were fighting in water and had to use some lighter weapons: Varnas, Hannibal and Granam all drew daggers instead of their regular weapons (a falchion, a battle axe and a longbow, respectively). The first grindilow to reach my companions was swiftly skewered by Varnas, but the trio of humans was soon mobbed by the rest of them. I came to their aid and slew one of the monsters. Granam and Hannibal were lightly wounded, but Varnas was beset from all sides, and cut in a myriad of places.

I carefully went back through the "lake of hooks" to lend a hand to my allies: I killed one of the grindilows, then another! Varnas also killed one, but then, he was laid low by the remaining ones. His body was beginning to sink to the bottom of the cave, but Granam swiftly went after him to prevent him from drowning.

And then there was only one grindilow left. The little menace was wearing a hat that was comically large for his frame: none other than Sandara's hat.

"That doesn't belong to you, scum!" exclaimed Hannibal as he slew the grindilow with his dagger.

I immediately cast some healing spells on Varnas to bring him back to health. It had been a close one! Examining Sandara's hat, I noted that it was imbued with a magical aura that allowed one to swim more easily, and that could be used to transform the hat into a boat once per day! Speaking of magical items, I also discovered that the mysterious ring I'd found in the chelaxian's cabin was enchanted to increase the wearer's skill at swimming. It came in quite handy on this day... Hannibal would wear Sandara's hat for now, until we hopefully got the chance to give it back to its rightful owner.

We made our way through more tunnels. This place was like a labyrinth. Thankfully, there were still air pockets here and there, and we didn't have to worry about illumination, for the Light spells that Varnas and I had cast didn't risk getting extinguished.

We finally reached an intersection where we faced a potent enemy indeed. Only for a brief moment did we catch a glimpse of this tentacled monstrosity - a devilfish - before it spewed a foul cloud of inky darkness all around us. I began choking from the contact with this disgusting substance, and to make things worse, we couldn't see anything. I tried to swim closer to the creature to attack it, but Granam and I were captured by its tentacles. The beast bit us with its poisoned fangs which sapped our very strength. The pain was almost unbearable, and Granam nearly died. I also suffered serious wounds. Drawing my dagger and using my bardic charm to inspire us, I sank my blade deep into the tentacle that was keeping me captive, feeling with a measure of relief the beast shake with a spasm of pain.

Miraculously, Hannibal and Varnas were able to approach the monster despite the blindness brought by the ink cloud. They struck true with their daggers - via our combined efforts, we almost slew the monster, which fled for its life down the tunnel ahead of us.

Thinking of survival more than revenge, we quickly took Granam's limp form and used what remained of our healing magic to prevent him from dying. Alas, Varnas and I had already spent all of our magical energy to recover from these difficult fights: I had to rely on the magic of the newly found wand of healing to close the rest of our wounds.


The grindilows' prisoners

After our encounter with the devilfish, we first explored a tunnel to our right; it led to a cave trapped with a huge metal cage. We noticed the trap without triggering it and decided to go another way. Granam and I were limping as the effect of the devilfish's poison was starting to make itself felt. The central tunnel led us past yet another "lake of hooks" to a large, deep cave that was filled with floating pieces of carrion: hundreds of carcasses of various origins, some humanoid, some not. The entire nightmarish scene was lit by an eerie glow. A strong current formed a kind of vortex in the middle of the cave.

Several beings awaited us in this cave. The first was the wounded devilfish. Also present was an enormous grindilow: while most members of its race are roughly the size of a halfling, this monstrous specimen was as large as an ogre! Further back, on a ledge, was a female grindilow, the one we suspected was their queen or matriarch. Near her, tied to the ceiling, were Sandara and Jack, their feet weighed with ponderous silver ingots. The matriarch threatened to cut their bonds and send them into the foul waters to drown. Both of our shipmates looked worse for the wear, and Jack much more so: the poor lad had already lost a foot to these tentacled monstrosities.

With a hungry shriek, the grindilow queen announced the start of the battle. While I used what little bardic magic was left at my disposal to aid my companions, the queen began a summoning spell that would soon cause an octopus to appear close to her. Hannibal swam to attack the devilfish and dodged attacks from both that monster and the enormous grindilow. Granam let two arrows fly, wounding the devilfish even more. The monstrous aberration tried to retreat deeper inside the pool to harass Hannibal at a distance with its tentacles, but before it got very far, Hannibal pierced it with its dagger, finally ending its foul life once and for all!

Hannibal then turned toward the giant grindilow and stabbed it as well. I swam to help him, but couldn't find an opening past the monster's furious swings. Thankfully, Hannibal's shield protected him well from the attacks of the oversized enemy. More of the queen's foul magic then came into play, and the algae that floated around the cave suddenly came to life, grasping at us with malevolent sentience, making it very difficult to fight and swim.

Two more of Granam's deadly arrows then flew through the air; one of them lodged itself into the big grindilow's throat. The fiend expired with a hoarse gasp. A furious howl came from the queen of the grindilow tribe; perhaps his mother? To get some measure of vengeance, she cut Sandara and Jack's restraints. They promptly sank out of sight. She then used a power similar to that of the devilfish to swim by us at a tremendous speed, soon getting out of sight. Varnas stabbed her with his dagger as she passed, and she also dropped her harpoon, which Granam promptly grabbed and claimed as his own.

After killing the summoned octopus, we all attempted to swim toward Jack and Sandara, something that was made quite difficult by the still-semi-sentient plants that entangled us. To our horror, once we reached the bottom of the watery cave, we saw that our allies were being attacked by two foul undead creatures that were manacled to the submerged floor. It was too late for Jack: he was already dead, torn to pieces by the two monsters. Sandara was still alive, but paralyzed by their touch. As we began battling these enemies, Hannibal and Varnas also became paralyzed, and nearly died as well.

( In fact, Varnas did die, coup-de-grace'd by one of the ghouls. He used an action point to stay alive.)

I was not spared the torment of their claws and fangs, but I survived the paralysis, recalling an old tale I'd heard that elves are immune to such dangers. Granam threw the queen's harpoon at the ghouls, discovering that it was enchanted with a peculiar magic that allowed the weapon to return to his hand after each throw; he killed one of the enemies, and I slew the other one with my rapier. We swiftly untied Sandara and brought her back to the surface, lest she drown before our very eyes!

After ensuring that Sandara was now safe, we brought poor Jack's remains to the surface as well. He was my first friend aboard the Wormwood, beside those three who were made prisoner at the same time. I felt a profound sadness as I carried his mangled corpse: if only we had been able to get there sooner and save him! Searching the disgusting cave was a most unpleasant experience, but we'd be damned if we left that accursed place without claiming our rightful reward! We found a number of coins and pearls, as well as pieces of scrimshaw and a shark jaw encrusted with gold. Some of the pieces of scrimshaw were inscribed with runes of arcane magic that would function as scrolls. Very precious, those! In addition, we found a magical bracer of unknown properties. Finally, Sandara gave her magical tricorn to Hannibal as a token of her gratitude.


Escaping the lair

Once the queen's room had been thoroughly looted, we discussed what to do next. I urged my companions to leave this place at once, for we were all weary and wounded. Hannibal agreed, but Granam and Varnas were curious to explore the rest of the dark submerged tunnels, with no regard for our safety. When I insisted on taking Jack's corpse with us so we could give him a proper funeral at sea, Granam sneered and stated that he was already in the sea, here, in this cave filled with salt water. Shaking my head at his dark humor, I said that Jack would not rot in this foul place like all those other corpses that floated around us. As for Sandara, she was tired and subdued, so she simply followed us. Though she had recovered most of her equipment, her weapons were nowhere to be found.

On the way back toward the entrance, we found another magical bracer that the queen had dropped in her hasty escape: how fortuitous! Granam's curiosity led us into many long and twisting stone tunnels that were cramped and nearly flooded with water. One of the caverns we found seemed to be some sort of prison: metal bars were set in the ground, and in the darkened space beneath them, we caught a glimpse of shadowy shapes avoiding our magical light. We decided not to investigate, since the odds that these creatures were both benevolent and capable of rewarding us for aiding them were quite small.

Another cave was the lair of eight more grindilows that we fought in yet another furious battle. Granam was badly wounded and nearly perished. Only Sandara's desperate healing saved him at the last moment. I fought with great skill in that battle, slaying half of our enemies by myself!

Looting the creature's cave, we found Sandara's weapons, a scrimshawed hammerhead shark's skull with a piece of driftwood through it, a walrus ivory tusk, inlaid with gold, forming a map of the Shackles (sadly, without any locations of hidden treasures) and an orca jaw set with pearls. Granam understood that the piece of driftwood was in fact a magical wand of Mirror Image, which I took, since I am the only one capable of using such a spell. I looked at the pieces of scrimshaw wistfully, knowing that my friend Jack would have appreciated them.

Upon returning to the entrance, we decided to avoid the stirges by exploring the tunnel that seemed to lead to the sea. Hannibal was still able to breathe water thanks to the potion he had used earlier, so he investigated the long tunnel, where the current was strong. To make things worse, the walls of the tunnel had been carved sharply, like fish bones. It made the journey not only very long, but quite dangerous. Hannibal returned after a few minutes, indicating that it would likely be too dangerous for the rest of us, as Varnas and I might not be able to hold our breath long enough, due to being weakened from the stirges' stings earlier. To make things worse, four more grindilows guarded the entrance.

We decided that facing the stirges was less dangerous, and Hannibal had an even better idea: we fetched some grindilow corpses and held them up to the surface of the water in the sinkhole. Drawn by the scent of blood, the stirges gorged themselves on the bodies of our enemies. Bloated with the succulent fluid, they placidly flew away once their meal was finished, giving us the opportunity to climb out of the pit unchallenged.


Return to Man's Promise

It was the middle of the night. We were tired, wounded, some of us were poisoned, some of us were diseased. Our magic was running low. I struggled under the weight of young Jack's corpse. We were surrounded by darkness on this cursed island. But still, we had no time to rest. We had to return to Man's Promise before Mister Plugg decided to leave, an hour before noon! And we were now on the opposite side of the island...

We carefully went down a steep slope, in the dark, until we reached the shore. There, we used the magic of Sandara's tricorn to summon a magical boat. We rowed under the stars, around the southern tip of the island, back to the beach where we had hidden the cutter. We then switched to that ship, converting the first boat back into a tricorn (lest Mister Plugg steal it upon discovering its true value...)

A few more hours of back-breaking rowing later, we finally, at long last, came within sight of Man's Promise. Eager to get back on board despite the villains that awaited us there, we rowed with renewed vigor.

The first crossbow bolt narrowly missed us around eighty feet from the ship.

Whaaaaa.... ?

Flabbergasted by this unexpected turn of events, we soon became beset by projectiles fired from the ship. Varnas was hit several times. A moment of chaos and panic nearly overwhelmed us: what was happening? What should we do? Flee or attack? After considering many likely and less likely scenarios in the span of just a few instants, we finally concluded that Mister Plugg had never meant us to come back aboard with our lives... Upon seeing us coming back, not long before they were ready to leave, he had gathered his most trusted cronies and they were now trying to get rid of us at a distance. Behind them, we could hear sounds of battle: likely, our allies were fighting the rest of our enemies. Guessing from the shadowy shapes taking cover and firing at us, as well as the type of projectiles fired, it seemed that our antagonists were Mister Plugg, Master Scourge, Crimson and Conchobhar.

Varnas and I rowed as fast as our weary, lead-heavy arms would allow us while Granam and Hannibal returned fire (with little success). Suddenly, a high-pitched scream erupted in our midst, and young Sandara collapsed at the bottom of the boat, pierced by an arrow in the chest.

Now they had gone too far!

"You've just shot the ship's healer, you a$@@++$s!!!!" I roared, losing my temper in the face of this most recent and dire treachery.

More arrows flew as we approached. Once, twice I was grazed by projectiles. One of them had been fired by Plugg himself, I knew it! Would the next one hit me in the throat? In the eye?...

We finally reached the side of the ship, and I hurried to heal Sandara with my wand: fortunately, she still lived, and she used most of what remained of her magic to heal herself fully, as well as those of us who had also been wounded.

"Surrender and we will let you live!" cried out Hannibal defiantly. Our foes predictably did not respond to his threat. "Fine. Then I will destroy you..." added our friend grimly.

Granam and Hannibal secured grappling hooks to the side of Man's Promise, and then we climbed with all haste. Thankfully, our enemies were too caught-up in their blood lust to think of simply cutting the ropes: they kept firing at us.

Hannibal and Varnas were the first up the ropes. I saw Varnas's backside go over the rail, and I followed just behind him. Back on the boat, Sandara and Granam still remained. Granam seemed to be having a lot of trouble going up the rope, and I suddenly remembered how poorly he had performed in the boarding exercise... would he be of any use in this fight at all?...


Taking over

The climactic battle that we'd been expecting since our very first day about the Wormwood took place: we finally fought Mister Plugg and Master Scourge. The great news is that we were victorious! The bad news is that my personal contribution to the battle was nil.

A mere moment after I wondered whether Granam would be able to climb the rope up to the deck of Man's Promise, I somehow, incomprehensibly, lost my grip and fell into the water. Was it because I was suffering from the debilitating effects of the devilfish's poison? Was it because my arms were numb from having carried Jack's corpse over a long distance, then rowed all around the island during the last several hours? Was it for a different reason entirely: perhaps in a parallel universe, a small, bespectacled individual cast a brightly colored die that landed on its worst possible side? I may never know.

What I do know is that, by the time I finally managed to climb up to the deck, the fight was over. With some difficulty, and with the help of Rosie, Ambrose and Sandara, my companions Granam, Hannibal and Varnas killed Crimson, rendered Mister Plugg unconscious, forced Master Scourge to dive overboard in an attempt to flee, and incited Conchobhar to surrender. Granam shot arrows at the fleeing Scourge, finishing him off; I went to fetch him before the sharks claimed him. Meanwhile, despite being outnumbered, our other allies (Tilly Brackett, Ratline Rattsberger, Gifford Tibbs and Barefoot Samms Toppen) fared very well against the rest of our enemies, who surrendered when they saw that Mister Plugg had been vanquished. We'd done it: we had taken control of the ship. I just wish I could say that I actually accomplished anything worthwhile in that regard.

Next, we secured Plugg and Scourge (who were stripped of their belongings and their titles) to ensure they wouldn't escape. We healed the wounded as best we could despite our thoroughly depleted magical energy. We accepted the surrender of our erstwhile enemies: Aretta, Jaundiced Jape, Conchobhar and the others. We'll need everyone we can to make it back to port. As it is, we had a difficult enough time extricating the Man's Promise from the reefs.

Speaking with the rest of the crew, we got the confirmation that Plugg intended to sail to Bloodcove to sell us as slaves. He also wanted to stop at Rickety Squib to change the appearance of the ship: this is what we're planning to do next, and we're sailing in that direction. We've been sailing for a few days now. Varnas and Granam have been very sick, but with Sandara's help, they're slowly recovering.

We divided up the loot of our enemies. I inherited Crimson's bow, a sturdy weapon indeed. A funeral was held for poor Jack Scrimshaw, and for Crimson as well, the only actual casualty of our "forced mutiny". Scourge and Plugg received the fate they deserved: keelhauling. The entire crew seemed to enjoy their final, painful moments; the poetic justice of their punishment.


What a finale for the first adventure! It seems there were quite a few near-deaths (or real deaths, actually). I really like how you make your character come to life.

I was wondering about the perfect timing of the planned mutiny, interrupted by the storm. Did the GM nudge you towards the mutiny at that particular time, and not before, or was it just how things unfolded? I haven't GMed Skull & Shackles, but the timing of the mutiny has always worried me. If the PCs do it on the Wormwood, it's a near certain death, and if they are forced to mutiny at the end of the adventure, but have never thought about it before, it's quite lame.

As you mentioned in my own thread of Shattered Star, it's very interesting to see the adventure come to life. To the point that I'd be wanting to GM this AP at some point. :)

How far are you, now? I'd have questions about your impression on what comes next, but I don't want to spoil it for you.


Olwen wrote:
What a finale for the first adventure! It seems there were quite a few near-deaths (or real deaths, actually). I really like how you make your character come to life.

Unlike Olwen I'm not familiar with anything more than a vague outline of this AP, but I thoroughly enjoy reading your report. I have been wondering about your fights as well: they do seem quite lethal and sometimes people are locked out of combat because they failed some kind of check or something (e.g. fail to climb aboard). Although your journal makes the fights sound exciting, I was curious as to how much excitement they are at the table. Some of the circumstances give me the impression that in the game itself there might be some frustrating moments (I mean, I would hate being cut out off a fight because my character wasn't able to make the jump to the other vessel ...). So let me know, are the fights as much fun as it is reading about them?

Sovereign Court

Olwen wrote:
How far are you, now? I'd have questions about your impression on what comes next, but I don't want to spoil it for you.

Yay, some comments! :) That's always so rewarding to get!!! :)

Indeed, there were many death/near-death experiences in this first, BRUTAL adventure. The fights were quite tough, since often we didn't have all our equipment with us, or there were many combats happening in the same day, without the chance to recover our spells properly, nor to recover from things like fatigue, poison, disease. Thank god that our DM removed the several swarms we were supposed to encounter on the island as written, because we had no way to damage them. Those would have led to deaths for sure!

The grindilow lair was especially nasty, since the penalties fighting in the half-submerged tunnels were quite a significant hindrance.

I'm glad you're enjoying how I'm relating the story from Akavar's point of view. I'm trying to do a decent job at it, but I find, alas, that Akavar is but a bland shadow of the much more vibrant Belessa Darkwave that I played in Savage Tide. I find I did a MUCH better job portraying her, and telling an interesting tale, back in that campaign a few years ago. I think I just don't have as much time and energy to spent on writing campaign journals as I did in those days, alas! :(

I think it's also something about the dynamics of the PC group that's quite different. In Savage Tide, we had more players, hence more potential for interaction, and the fact that my character Belessa was evil added a lot of role-playing opportunities. Now, in Skull & Shackles, everybody is the same alignment, so that brings less role-playing conflicts. Also, Varnas's player is absent most of the time, which makes a big difference (he is very lively when he's around).

According to our GM, there was no tempering with the timing regarding the mutiny. We came very, very close to having the mutiny one day earlier, which would of course have led to a very different outcome. We would have been a level lower, but we would've had the opportunity of surprise and have been fully rested. It might have worked to our advantage, I think. We had a pretty good plan to assault our enemies in the dead of the night; even though it surely wouldn't have survived contact with the enemy, I think we had a decent chance.

Alas, I was the one who decided to wait one more day for Sandara to cast an augury of Besmara, which in the end turned out to be completely useless, because only after the fact did I realize that it only applied to something happening 30 minutes in the future, maximum (I confused it with Divination).

And I get the same feeling as you: reading your campaign journal makes me want to play Shattered Star. :)

We're still at the beginning of the second adventure. We've just left Rickety Squib. So the journal as posted here is just a few games late.

Anyway, I'm glad I've got some readers, this is giving me a boost of motivation to keep writing the logs. ;)

Sovereign Court

MrVergee wrote:
I have been wondering about your fights as well: they do seem quite lethal and sometimes people are locked out of combat because they failed some kind of check or something (e.g. fail to climb aboard). Although your journal makes the fights sound exciting, I was curious as to how much excitement they are at the table. Some of the circumstances give me the impression that in the game itself there might be some frustrating moments (I mean, I would hate being cut out off a fight because my character wasn't able to make the jump to the other vessel ...). So let me know, are the fights as much fun as it is reading about them?

He he… ;)

Well, to be perfectly honest, the adventure indeed had its fair share of moments that were frankly quite frustrating for me. For example, as you noticed, this final climactic battle which was, for my character, very much ANTI-climactic because I rolled a natural 1 on a Climb check. That completely ruined the fun of it, for me. At least I was able to play Varnas (as his player was absent), but it's not the same feeling as playing my own character, you know what I mean?

Beyond the simple frustration of one's own character being locked out of the action comes the additional complexity brought by the fact that I'm writing the campaign journal from the character’s point of view. So if my character's not there, or unconscious, then it becomes awkward to tell the tale. I can use the "… and the rest of the group later described that X and Y and Z…", but that's a bit cumbersome. When something happens to take my character out of the action, there's always in the back of my mind a concern of: "How the heck am I going to tell that part of the story in the log?"

It happens sometimes that I get really annoyed because of something that happens in-game, but then having to write the journal entry gives me a sense of detachment that is very therapeutic. By presenting the facts of what happened in the game in a more objective manner helps me get a sense of perspective, and also, simply getting it out from my inner core unto "paper" (virtual paper, I guess) helps a lot to flush out the negative energy. Other times, it's very unpleasant to relive some unpleasant memories from the game and have to expand on them in writing. It varies from one time to the next.

And, despite my negativity here, yes, I am indeed talking about my favorite hobby! First world problems, I guess... :)

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