Yo ho, all hands,
hoist the colors high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars;
never shall we die.
You awaken in darkness, a faint recollection of a song flitting across your mind, the smell of salt and sickness heavy in the air, your head pounding from too much cheap wine, and for the unlucky of you, from the fists and boots of your captors.
As you each come screaming into consciousness, you recall the night before, whether it be drinking and singing in some barroom, before your memories fade to a strange darkness, or carnal pleasure followed by bitter betrayal. You get a general sense that you are not alone in the hold, but most of you can not see or make out where anyone else is. Those of you who can note that the hold is mostly empty, bar for six very confused creatures, and some boxes and barrels.
You reach for a weapon, but find none of your gear. You can still see the smug face of the man you had taken to bed, the man you had met in the Formidably Maid, as he left the room and left you to your fate.
You glance around for a weapon, but your things are gone. You are reminded of a saying “Caught like a fish out of water”.
You find yourself lying on your side, with a pool of vomit spreading out before you. Your personal effects have all been seized.
You never did see the cudgel that hit you from behind, but you felt it, as surely as you felt your face being driven into the ground and the beating that followed. Your hand twitches towards your weapon but you find yourself unarmed.
You look around for your weapon, but instead only find big people, strange people. The Goddess of Revenge has some work to do!
You still have faith you are doing the right thing, but that is all you have. Your gear is gone.
Before you can do little more than open your eyes and wonder about the lack of equipment and your circumstances, you hear heavy footfalls on the boards, before being blinded as light floods the hold. Squinting against the glare of the lamp, you find yourself staring at a man with long black hair, holding a whip. Behind him stands a collection of burly, grizzled looking pirates, each carrying a sap in their meaty fists, grinning at you maliciously. Before you can register much more, your eyes are drawn back to the man before you with a loud crack of his whip.
“Still abed with the sun over the yardarm? On your feet, ye filthy swabs! Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap’n Harrigan flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!”
Esmarelda slowly got up, her body screaming in protest as she moved. That man! He's the one who gave me this black eye...
She has just settle on her feet as the captain's name hit her. "Harrigan? Of the Wormwood?" She asked as her hand covered her swollen eye. "And you!" She pointed right at the lead man. "You're the ass that kicked me in the face! If you just wanted to get me on the ship you should have just asked!" She snapped, still covering her eye. "Ah... I think you might have cracked bone... She muttered.
This is going to take weeks to heal... damn it...
As Esmarelda finished speaking her last word, Scourge struck, lashing out with his whip, slashing the tip across the back of the hand covering her eye.
"Bite yer tongue ya filthy wench. Yer lucky that hand was over yer eye or I'd have had it out. Anyone else got summat to say?" The man snapped, grinning viciously around.
You have had worse wounds and your knuckles are right where you left them, even if the rest of your gear is gone. You've had worse days.
Bleary eyed and his hair askance, Eskilline leans up on an elbow.
"Breakfast? *groan* I'll pass, thanks.... Whose leg am I holding?"
Yo ho, all hands,
hoist the colors high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars;
never...
shall we...
Aviz wakes with a start, slamming his head sharply with a bark of pain. He seethes and looks around, feeling his freshly-sore head and his not so freshly-sore jaw. Damnit. That's what I get for showing off.
The creature is an interesting one. He stands six feet tall, and has onyx black skin and bone white hair. He has a strong, wiry build. He has pointed ears, slitted nostrils, pupil-less eyes, and most amazingly a set of badly damaged black wings. His hair is long and falls loose down to his shoulders. He has a number of scars across his body, but the most prominent one is a large line through his right eye, past his temple, and disappearing into his hair.
He reaches down to touch his brass knuckles in his shirt and sighs. Right where I left you. Then he starts looking around and frowns. This isn't the tavern. And where... Realization starts sinking in as he feels the rocking of the ocean and sees the strangers around him. He quickly jumps up, but then doubled over in breathless pain. My wings...oh god my wings... He gingerly touches them and takes in a sharp breath between his teeth. Somebody is going to pay.
As his captors strut into the room Aviz bares his teeth and slips his hand inside his shirt. Full of bad wine and painful bruises and shattered pride, his judgement is gone. His hands are already slipping the brass knuckles on when their leader viciously whips a woman for barely speaking. He looks at the gathered group of armed men and takes a slow breath. There will come a time. His hand falls down to his side and he half-straightens up. He takes almost a drunken lurch forward and speaks in a hoarse voice. "Fauchard...where is my fauchard?.."
"Oh ho, more back talk hey? Boys, help our friends out wouldja?" Scourge grins, flashing a couple gold teeth as he does, stepping back and gesturing to the burly men behind him.
With a cruel efficiency the pirates bustle in to the room and move towards those who spoke.
"Breakfast? You'll be lucky if I don't have yeh for breakfast!" a particularly unpleasant looking Pirate mutters, leering down at Eskilline before reaching down and pulling him to his feet roughly. "Now shut your bloody yap and gets ta stepping, if'n ya please your Majesty?" the Pirate makes a mocking curtsey to the young lordling before pushing his roughly through the door.
At the same time three men surround Aviz, grinning, slapping their saps in to their palms and advancing on him menacingly.
"Whose a pretty bird then?"
"Polly want a cracker?"
"Polly wants his bloody pigsticker it sounds like. Maybe if you sing sweet for the Cap'n he'll give it back!" The three men laugh cruelly and keep advancing slowly.
"Ya gonna cause trouble birdie? The boys ain't above cracking yer eggs and dragging ya to the Cap'n in a stuppor. Your move son!" Scourge calls from the door.
"Fauchard...where is my fauchard?.."
"Stop shouting. And while you're at it watch your language. I think there may be a lady present.... There better be a lady present."
What in the Abyss - oh. Oh, Hellfire.
At the sound of the whip crack, the young man in the corner jerks to full wakefulness. He shakes his head as he pushes himself off the floor, trying to clear obviously bleary eyes. He looks up at the rest of the room with a weariness that clearly goes bone deep, and his strong, pleasant feature set themselves in a resigned expression.
"Wonderful," he grumbles. He ducks his head again, briefly, and mutters something that sounded like a prayer...to Iomedae? He shakes his head again, this time in frustration as the words rang false to his ears. Under his breath, he whispers, "As agreed, my Queen, thus do I begin my service."
His gaze shifts quickly between the whipped woman and the menaced strix, and he makes a quick decision, getting to his feet somewhat unsteadily. He steps forward, moving near the surrounded birdman, putting a hand on the other's shoulder and saying quietly in his ear, "Better to lay low, friend. Give it time.".
He takes another step forward, standing up straight, facing the man with the whip, and pressing his fist to his heart in a salute. Speaking up louder, his clear voice belies most of the frustration in his eyes. "No trouble here, sir. We'll come along."
At the same time three men surround Aviz, grinning, slapping their saps in to their palms and advancing on him menacingly.
"Whose a pretty bird then?"
"Polly want a cracker?"
"Polly wants his bloody pigsticker it sounds like. Maybe if you sing sweet for the Cap'n he'll give it back!" The three men laugh cruelly and keep advancing slowly.
"Ya gonna cause trouble birdie? The boys ain't above cracking yer eggs and dragging ya to the Cap'n in a stuppor. Your move son!" Scourge calls from the door.
Aviz grits his teeth. He's always been too proud for his own good.
"Maybe if you sing sweet for the Cap'n he'll give it back..."
Aviz's ears twitch and his heart rate calms down. Right, no point in getting beaten. He looks at the men The captain...the captain has it... He looks up. Alright, so I'll need to see the captain. He looks at the weapons, swiveling his whole head around to look at them as if his eyes are affixed in his head like an actual bird.
"Better to lay low, friend. Give it time."
Aviz swivels to look at the man praying to Iomedae. Probably a cleric. Can't believe he got roped into this...he's right though. He looks over at the man in charge and takes a deep breath. It's a boat, I'll run into him sooner or later.
Aviz slouches and clears his throat. "I think you'd prefer my fists to my singing anyways, probably hurt you less." He gives a small grin and cocks his head.
Bring raised among vengeful prostitutes, false subservience is practically a native tongue for Zervas. Giving a croaking groan, he says, "I'm with you, masters. Give the word and I'll do as you wish."
You oafs will regret this, and soon, mark me.
As subtly as he can manage, the small, yellow frog-man searches his loose-fitting clothes, now caked with blood, for his holy symbol.
Esmarelda lets out a small cry of pain as the skin on her hand is split open. "Well aren't you a a ton of fun.." Emsarelda hissed. "Right, got it I'm movin', I'm movin'" She said as she moved past the pirates and up onto the deck.
I won't forget this...
Esmarelda walked up to the deck, still covering her black eye with her wounded hand. "Finally got onto a ship... not the way I wanted to though..."
GM
G'nosha suddenly opened her eyes, with an atrocious headache and a taste of iron in her mouth. In other words, nothing that she wasn't used to. Her numerous scars and a particularly striking gash from her right eye to her jawbone proved that it wasn't her beating.
Her lips stretching in a imperceptible grin as she spat blood on the wooden floor, and her bulging muscles also indicated that she was eager to fight back. She tried to grab her weapon...
Her flail wasn't there.
Bastards.
She had underestimated that pirate back at the inn... She looked so frail. Her acolytes, however, were much more bulky. She wondered how many blows it took them before she passed out. This thought almost made her giggle.
The half-orc wiped her mouth, and pushed on her hands to get up. She could hear people speaking loudly, but couldn't make out the words yet. Her sight was still a bit blurry.
But she knew that it was temporary. Besides, she could still clench her fists.
And as she looked down on her arm stained with her own blood, she thought that, unfortunately for whoever beated her up, she wasn't dead yet.
"Right," she said in a worrying calm tone. "Let's see your leader, then."
Eskilline takes his hallucination in good stride. After releasing what he finally realized was his own leg. He gets to his feet and marvels at how lifelike the little frog man and the oddly human looking tengu seem. For a moment he could have sworn he saw a half-orc but such is the way of mind altering substances. Even his legs don't seem to be working all that well. It was as if the ground itself was roiling and tumbling as much as the pain in his head was.
"Oh! There you are!" The young man says bumping into that half-orc he had lost track of. "Pardon me."
"Eskilline." He holds out a hand and introduces himself. He doesn't wait long for a reply (because really what's the point, she's just a figment of his addled mind anyway) and instead continues his introduction with everyone-- preposterous, piratical kidnappers included--hoping to find a familiar phantasm that might help explain what is going on.
At last he reaches Esmarelda (and her exposed midriff).
"Well hello. I'm Eskilline." He takes her hand and makes a formal bow to plant a kiss upon it. (And perhaps to get a closer look at her abs) "I don't imagine that even the most gifted artisan could have imagined one as unimaginably lovely as you. Yet here we both are in my fever dream. I of course know why I am here, but you-" He trails off.
Scourge looks like he is about to lash out at Zale, before he scowls and grins darkly. "Keep the attitude Priest and you may do okay!"
One of the men circling Aviz, meanwhile, chuckles and stows his sap, reaching out and shoving the Strix lightly through the door. "Aye, that is one thing we may have in common. Me old mammy used to say I sounded like a crow when I sang. Guess she was right!"
Scourge lashed out with his whip, catching the Grippli on the cheek, as he stepped forward menacingly. "Oh you'll mean that sooner than later froggy, but by all means, please keep thinking you can stand up to me. I be needing a good laugh!"
"Our leader now, meatsack!" Scourge growls, tightening his grip on his whip. "You are part of the crew so you best be getting used to it!" At the same time he is speaking to G'nosha, he turns and nods at one of the other Pirates, pointing after the Sorcerer who had just tried to introduce himself to a particularly large rat.
As Eskilline trails off, the burly pirate who had been leching after him earlier slams his sap across the back of the Sorcerers head, grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him in to line as he does. "Shut yer trap. This ain't no dream, it's a flamin nightmare and you ain't got a way out!"
After a bit more pushing and shoving, eventually you find yourself on deck, set apart from the rest of the crew, and standing beside a group of four people who, by the looks of their clothes and confused expressions, must also be new 'recruits'. Standing before you, hands pressed to his hips, is a tall fierce looking man who exudes an air of command. As you settle in to place, he steps forward with a cruel grin beginning to cross his face.
“Glad you could join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for ‘volunteering’ to join my crew. I’m Barnabas Harrigan. That’s Captain Barnabas Harrigan to you, not that you’ll ever need to address me. I have only one rule—don’t speak to me. I like talk, but I don’t like your talk. Follow that rule and we’ll all get along fine." He makes to turn away, before glancing back at you all, as if he had just remembered something.
“Oh, and one more thing. Even with you new recruits, we’re still short-handed, and I aim to keep what crew I have. There’ll be a keelhaulin’ for anyone caught killin’ anyone. Mr. Plugg! If you’d be so kind as to make pirates out of these landlubbers, it’ll save me having to put them in the sweatbox for a year and a day before I make pies out of ’em.”
The Captain turns and walks away, leaving you to the tender ministrations of his Lieutenant, Mister Plugg and the ever pleasant Master Scourge.
Aviz grits his teeth through all the pushing and shoving. They'll learn who the muscle is around here soon enough. He blinks, his pupil-less eyes adjusting slowly to the bright sunlight. Then he sees their mountain of a captain. Finally, now I can see about my fauchard.
"I have only one rule—don’t speak to me. I like talk, but I don’t like your talk."
Aviz sneers and murmurs to himself. "Fa'la zatoast."
Esmarelda couldn't help but laugh at Eskilline. "You're trying too hard honey." She told him before they met with their new captain.
Don't bother him, he won't bother you. Alright then. I can live with that.
But when Plugg came foreword the look upon her face turned to one of shock and frustration. "Omul m-am culcat cu este Harrigan pe secund? Oh Es ce naiba proaspete aţi ajuns într-te?" She said in a hushed voice.
”Welcome aboard the Wormwood ladies and gentlemen. My name is Jacoma Plugg, but you can call me Sir, or Lieutenant, or Mister Plugg, at the very least. Anything less and I will have you beaten. Do it twice and I’ll have you locked in the hotbox myself. Now, down to business, this is not a pleasure boat, nor are you guests, you will work while you are here and you will work hard!” He turned and moved over towards the center of the deck, his hands clasped behind his back.
”This is the mainmast and up above us is the Crowsnest. This is where our lookouts are stationed. The lines and ropes are known as the rigging. Now we are in need of a rigger so we are going to have a little competition, first one up to the Crowsnest becomes a rigger and doesn’t have to swab the deck. Savvy? Boots off and to the line here,” he pointed at a marking on the deck.
”On my mark you’ll scurry up to that Crowsnest or you’ll wish you had. Now…. GO!”
Aviz looks at Mister Plugg, then looks up at the crow's nest. Would be apt, wouldn't it? He rubs at his sore wings. "You know, give me a few weeks to heal and I'll be the best man up there." He says with a gesture to his back.
Aviz shrugs and steps forward, rolling his shoulders. "Keep it in mind Mister Plugg. Having a flier up there would be invaluable. Especially one with sharp eyes who can see in the dark." And can see everything going on in the ship. He crouches with a snarl and hurdles forward, jumping to begin the climb. Climbing had never been something he had been particular good at; he had always relied on his wings to get him into the air. But he was stronger than most men and his upper body strength served him well in this race.
"Possibly so, but we don't have a few weeks, so it is a test. First one up there isn't lowest man on the ladder. What a treat. NOW CLIMB YOU FILTHY DOGS!"
At the screamed order, Scourge cracks his whip behind you, as if by Pluggs silent prompting.
Esmarelda turned and looked at the Strix, now her new crewmate, giving him a long look over. A smirk slowly formed on her lips. "I'm sure you could handsome but I doubt they have that long to wait. Since they are so short handed they had to kidnap us. So lets get moving." When Plugg spoke she looked at Aviz. "Told ya."
Not wanting to get into any more trouble, at least not right now, Esmarelda headed over to the mainmast and removed her boots. "Lets see if all those nights sneaking out of the house from my bedroom window did me any good." She gave a small smile before she started up the rigging.
The first couple times Esmarelda couldn't seem to get her footing, but once she did the varisian beauty moved gracefully thought the rigging.
Though still bitter about taking the whip lash earlier, Zarvas simply can't help but perk up at the mention of a climbing contest. The started reward cooks have been "first to the top gets pitched overboard" and he'd still have strongly considered it.
Zarvas effortlessly shimmies his way up through the rigging and gives a triumphant laugh when he reaches the top.
Maybe this won't be so bad after all, if I get to do this all day. I'll still have to punish the bastards, but that can wait.
Just barely managing to keep the scowl off his face as the officerse threaten his new shipmates, Zale takes the abuse stoically. At the order to climb the rigging, Zale stares up the mast with trepidation briefly, then shakes his head and goes to work without a word.
After some early success, the frustrated paladin falls some ten feet to the deck, stunning him. He lays there for just a moment, staring up at the sky with a blank, irritated look before getting back up and returning to the mast again.
Doggedly hauling himself up hand over hand, he heaves himself another forty feet off the deck before his lack of skill betrays him again and his hand slips. His eyes barely even flicker wider as the distance yawns beneath him.
Of course.
Some of Gnosha's memories flood back, and she frowned as she recalled that the pirate she had spent the night with was shouting when she was attacked. She even remembered her being hit herself...
This mere thought made her really angry... But the half-orc controlled herself. Sure, whoever did that was going to pay for it, but now wasn't the time.
The half-orc frowned when she saw the others getting hit by the whip, and her jaws tighten, but surprisingly, she kept her mouth shut, seemingly listening to the pirates and looking around. None of the new "volunteers" seemed to have been around pirates before.
Without paying attention to the pirates' slurs, the half-orc removed her boots, and started to climb... Even if the grippli's climbing skills clearly surpassed everyone's!
G'nosha started to climb rather clumsily, but soon her movements became more confident, and she had no more problems to reach the top.
22.5 ft. End of round 1
He's more careful from then on as a poor roll from 50 ft up would be bad and simply takes 10 (for 11) the rest of the way up. reaching the top in a total of 8 checks (4 rounds).
Eskilline leaps up to the rigging with relish and speeds ahead until a near fall at around 20 feet causes him to reconsider that old adage 'Slow and steady wins the race.'
Once at the top he helps those that follow with his hands and words of encouragement.
"You're almost there!" "Just a little more!" "There you go!" "Here take my hand!" "There *gasp* that wasn't so bad was it?"
Aviz throws himself to the task with a will, using all of his strength to drag himself upward. He seems to be in control of the situation, till he almost reaches the top. His hand hovers near a line but he slips and ends up grasping at air. The large bird man slips an falls, crashing to the deck.
Zale at the same time catches his footing wrong and, despite a muttered prayer to his gods, begins to plummet also, slamming in to the deck right alongside.
30 ft.
37.5 ft.
45 ft.
Still 45 ft.
52.5 ft.
60 ft. Whew...
Just before Zale slipped he felt a hand grab his wrist. When he looked up, the Varisian woman met his eyes with her own. "Don't go fallin' now sweetheart, we wouldn't want you splattered all over the deck." She said, a playful smirk on her lips.
Aviz is almost to the top when he sees the frog-man at the top and he bares his teeth. Stupid amphibious bast... Suddenly his grip slips and he is weightless. He instinctively tries to furl out his wings, but he gets only a sharp pain in response. Then his heart jumps to his throat, and with a sharp crack! of his head on the deck his world turns black.
G'nosha muttered an old swear word in orc when she saw the strix losing his balance. She managed to catch him just before he fell.
"Not bad on the climbing," she smiled. "Should focus on your landing, though."
Aviz feels the air...then a sturdy green hand catches him. He quickly swings forward and latches back onto the mast. He turns his head and mutters a quick "Thanks..." before shimmying his way back down.
"Well that was fun. What's next you suppose?" Eskilline looks around from his high perch in the rigging fully expecting to see the docks 10-feet away and is obviously a bit shocked when he doesn't.
He regains his cheery facade quickly. It's as much a defense against the pirates as it is against despair.
Zale slams into the deck with punishing force, immediately unconscious.
Zarvas, always mystified by the clumsiness of humans, takes a moment to heal the unconscious heap of paladin in front of him.
As Zale begins to fall, Es reaches out with cat like reflexes and an iron grip, wrapping one slender hand around the mans wrist and pulling his hand to safety. Zale can feel his heart and his stomach leap in to his mouth and it feels like he impacts the deck, as all the breath rushed out of him in fright, but he is fine, his prayers were answered.
As the last of you slip down the mast and come to rest on your feet, Plugg steps forward, clapping slowly, a bitter smirk on his face. "Oh well done, none of you died, that is good. You," he pointed at Zarvas, "stick around, I will have orders for you after this. You are a rigger now and you work directly for me!" He clapped, before turning to the group again, ignoring Zarvas for the moment.
"Now, on to our next position, we need a Cooks Apprentice. Do any of you have any experience with cooking? I am sick of eating the tripe that pickled old codger serves us. Speak up now!"
Wouldn't of even risked dying if you dumb bastards didn't cripple me. Aviz simply shakes his head when they're asked about cooking experience. He hadn't cooked a thing in his life.
Esmarelda shook her head when Plugg asked who could cook as she tried to move some of her hair to cover her black eye.
Ha! Last time I tried to cook something I burnt half the kitchen and mother locked me in my room for a month... She gave a small smile as she remembered the look on her mother's face.
"My parents had a Katapeshite chef."
G'nosha shrugged. She knew nothing about cooking.
"No experience with the stuff."
Fighter
Aviz raises his lip. "Clearly none of us can cook, so how's this gonna work?"