Images of the night's revelry flash in your mind; good loud music, flirty wenches of questionable morals, and numerous (countless?) glasses of rum, ale and wine. The last thing you remember were plates full of sausages and meats being brought out to loud cheers and greedy grabbing.
It was truly a night worthy of the Pirate capital of the Shackles.
Those happy remembrances are immediately replaced by a pounding headache. You must still be drunk, as the floor beneath you is swaying at regular intervals. As you lick your dry lips, the taste of the wine is replaced by an ashy, unpleasant flavor.
Cracking open your eyes, you discover that you are in a ship's interior. You see others around you slowly coming to. You recognize some of the faces from the Formidably Maid the night before, and all of them appear worse for the wear. Looking around, you quickly realize that you've been stripped of all your belongings, with nothing more than the clothes on your back. No weapons. No magical components.
Nothing.
Lifting your head, you see a tall, skinny man in a long coat and breeches and boots. He wears a dark beard braided down his chest and his mouth gleams with gold teeth as he snarls cruelly at the lot of you. Six other burly men stand around him, all armed with saps.
His voice rings out in a shout as the whip in his other hand cracks out above your heads. "Still abed with the sun over the yardarm?! On your feet, you filthy swabs! Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap'n Harrigan flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!"
You are on a boat. Against your will. And this man, standing above you, is apparently your new superior.
Your pirate career is off to a dramatically different start than you anticipated.
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Isabella groggily opens her eyes, instantly recognizing her surroundings. No stranger to being aboard ship, she realizes that she is in a ship's hold. She reaches for her rapier, only to find it missing. Her dagger, likewise, is gone from her person.
Hells. I let my guard down for an instant and I get press-ganged! Nothing more to do for the moment, I guess, other than to ride it out.
She scrambles unsteadily to her feet, still finding her sea legs, and stumbles towards the gangway.
Fartim struggles to his... er... foot. He looks around taking in his surroundings and realizing that he has no belongings. "Where in th' hells are we, 'sir'?"
Alain will stand and flash his best ingratiating smile, "Excuse me, but I think there has been some kind of mistake. My name is Alain Shadestrom son of Tom Shadestrom. Could you take me to the Captain? I'm sure we can straighten this all out."
The burly young man in the corner stirs, grumbling to himself.
What in - oh, merciful Light, you're joking. No...no, of course you're not.
Under his breath, he offered a quick prayer. At first, he thought to rattle off the customary Invocation of Honor, but the words felt false. With a grimace, he muttered instead, "My Queen...as agreed, thus do I begin my service."
Getting groggily to his feet, his pleasantly chiseled features set themselves in a resigned sort of way as he eyes the man with the whip. Laying his hand on the shoulder of the youth who'd spoken up before him, he said in a low voice, "I don't think there's been much of a mistake, friend. I'd lie low, if I were you."
Stepping forward, putting himself between the confused man and the whip, he offers a salute, fist over heart, and raises his voice. "My friend here's just not the best early riser, sir. Where to first?"
Lani gets up after the others, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. When she sees her current predicament she sighs, straightens out her clothes and moves in line with the others. She offers the man with the whip a wry smile as she shrugs. "Ready when you are, guv'."
"No, you don't understand. There's been a mistake. My father is the Tom Shadestrom!"
*edit*
Zale tosses a glance over his shoulder at the younger man, negation in his eyes.
Blast it. This isn't going to end well.
Faratim sidles a step away from the Shadestrom person, eyeing him warily.
The man smiles as Isabella rises without argument. "This one knows her place. She'll do well aboard. As for where we are," he says, leveling a glance at the dwarf, "We're aboard the fiercest vessel of the fiercest pirate in the Shackles - the Wormwood under the command o' Cap'n Harrigan." He speaks with pride, but none of you have ever heard of the vessel or its captain.
When Alain speaks, the man is silent for a moment before cracking his whip at him.
He misses you narrowly, and he growls in anger. "There's been no mistake, pretty boy. You're aboard this vessel with this cap'n. Whoever the hells you think you know will do you no good here."
When Zane steps forward, the whip cracks again.
for
This time, the hard leather finds its mark, opening a gash across the paladin's face. "This friend o' yours needs to fight his own battles - you stay out of it."
"Now, up! Get up there now!" he says, indicating the open hatch leading to the sunlight.
Lani shakes her head dismissively while she moves to the upper deck, still bearing the same smile on her face. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun when she emerged on deck.
Alain is shocked. When the whip cracks past his face he flinches badly. Nothing in his fathers tales spoke of anything like this! He wraps his arms about himself and stumbles up the gangway with the others.
Zale takes the blow without flinching, rolling his jaw to check if anything was loosened. With a heavy breath through his nose, he begins to walk forward into the sunlight, not giving the whip's wielder a second glance.
Faratim grumbles about never hearing about a lousy Cap'n Harrigan, and limps his way to the deck.