Isabella's eyes double in size at Scourge's slip, and it takes a forced effort from every muscle in her frame to keep her laughter bottled inside and her posture relaxed against the rail.
Noone steps forward. Noone speaks. Only the ship creaks and groans as you plow steadily south.
The silence lingers, hanging like a blanket over the ship until Plugg breaks the spell.
Alright. No takers. Fine, we can play the hard way. Triple duty. Suddenly he thunders, Noone sleeps until the caster comes forwarded or is turned in to me! No Drink! No Water! No food! If I catch anyone snoozin' and slackin' I'll have their hide! Re-sort the canvas! Re-tie the lines! EVERYTHNG done again and again until I get my man or you all DIE!
There are murmers and a few cries of What!, but when the first mate booms Move you sorry A^#%s! everyone hops to and scatters like leaves before a storm. Plugg himself grabs a lash, a 'Cat, to be precise, and starts patrolling the deck like a bloodhound, looking for guilt and seeming to be a lingering promise of bloody retribution.
He leaves Sandra hanging at the post, feet barely touching the ground. It was only a matter of time before she ran out of healing and those ropes started to cut deep.
Rosy, who was standing just behind you when you cast, makes her way inconspicuously around the ship to you and whispers, I'm with you. I owe you my f'ing life, you know that. But we are not ready, not with the bloody captain and the other pansy officers against us. What's the play?
This should help turn the tide against those two. As long as I don't get caught, anyway. As he moves to resume work, Sarenth whispers back to Rosie, "Be ready. When it's time, you'll see the sign. Until then, stay loose."
As he works, Sarenth will try to catch the eye of each member of the party to see what they think.
Isabella shakes her head with her face in her palm; all internal laughter is snapped away as if by a fresh lash.
Bloody hell, is there no winning with these two?
As she moves to tighten a rigging line on the main mast, something goes wrong. the line suddenly goes taut in her hand, lifting Isabella three feet off the ground before it slips from her grasp. She manages to land on her feet, but not without a bit of a tumble and some random flailing. Catching her breath and composure, she looks skyward, instantly suspecting trickery. Blast ye swabs, if that was one of Scourge's boys...
Noro works as required but tries to make her way toward Sandra.
Whispering to her as she works
You doin' alright? I'm thinkin' to take the fall for Sarenth. I'm expendable shomewhat, beshides I can handle the punishment better, I'll probably be alright.
Reck busies himself with his tasks, snickering internally.
Skinny gets in my face about starting a revolt and then goes and pulls one himself. Haw!
Reck attempts to keep himself near one of the hostile pirates, so as to be right in the thick of battle should knives come out.
Durvin sees Sandara's reaction, and decides that there is little he could do if she earned the lashes legitimately. Then some fool, most likely one of his newly acquainted fools, decides that they would make things worse for everyone on board. Defiance without purpose produces nothing. If Sandara just got her three lashes, he could have healed her, and all would have been better. Now the whole crew suffers. He considers that he will do what he must.
Always looking to the bright side, at least he is smaller and requires less food and water, maybe the box won't be as cramped and debilitating as it would for the others. He steps forward, "Please, Sir, don't make the others suffer on my behalf. I was a fool and just didn't want to see any more pain doled out as motivation. I was the one who caused the whip to fall. I willingly accept my punishment."
The crew stops all tasks when Durvin steps forward. Once again a heavy tension fills the air. Mr. Plugg looks you over carefully. Had you pegged different, Cooker. he comments.
With a snap of his fingers, Plugg summons Narwhal and "Badger" Medlar to seize you. They both hop to and shove you into the Box uncerimouniously. Plugg puts his foot on the lid and slides a heavy padlock through the latch. He then walks over to Sandra and trips the knot holding her. She collapses to the deck in a heap and immidiately starts shivering from exhaustion.
Everyone to bunks! Night's watch to the posts! Lights dim! Eyes peeled! He barks.
He stays on deck to night, on the watch with his hand on his cutlass.
Next day dawns clear. You gather for your assignments, as normal, but Plugg isn't assigning randomly today. He is assigning with purpose. Each of you get sent to a different post with a laundry list of busy work.
As you descend the ladder, you notice that the pirates with you have dagger-ish bulges in their pockets, and they aren't happy to see you.
As Sarenth sets out, you notice that the pirates with him have dagger-ish bulges in their pockets, and they aren't happy to see him.
About half way through the day, when you're thoroughly exhausted and ready to boil, you hear and feel a sudden, heavy thump on the lid of your torture cell. Leather boots creak quietly and Mr. Plugg's voice slides into the Box next to you.
So, Cooking boy, Why'd ya do it? Eh?
Isabella rolls her eyes and smirks at the increased workload, but nonetheless throws herself into it with vigor.
Partway through her work, she spies something odd, and after taking a moment to digest the possibilities, she glances down to the whips at her belt, then across the deck.
Why do I have the sinking feeling of impending regrets?
laughing quietly to herself, she finishes her work at her current location, and starts to move toward the bilges.
Under the fierce eye of the ship's taskmasters, Reck hauls ass to and fro, running messages. By the end of the day, he's pretty beat.
What's the play here? Sandra's up to something, Rosie's up to something, Sarenth's up to something, Durvin's up to something.
With another soft squeak of old leather Plugg resumes his rounds, leaving you to think on his words.
About an hour of blistering hell later you hear a soft approach. This is definitely not Plugg or Scourge. The rough and filthy voice of Rosie addresses you in a rushed whisper, Plugg and Scourge just went down to the hold, but I suspect they won't F:&;@ng stay there, the b^*~,ards. How are ya?
Durvin winces slightly as he adjusts his position so that he can talk out the opening without too much expenditure or wasted moisture in his throat. "I'll manage. I did this to keep you all out of harm's way. Don't risk yourself on my account."
Rosie sighs, I know it wasn't you, dumb$&@. I was standing right by Sarenth when he pulled that stunt. Figured that Mage wouldn't have the f'ing balls to admit he f&$&ed up. Then again, if I hadn't seen it happen I'm not sure I would have believed that p&$~y Scourge either. Sandra's usually a good hand, but that rope was just f'ing bad luck.
Speaking of Sandra, she'll be fine. She couldn't cast for a while on account of her hands being screwed, but they loosened up alright after a while.
Noro continues her repairs as ordered still feeling a bit tired from the extra work the day before.
She notices some loose planks near the sweat box and makes her way over to fix them.
she whispers down in there to Durvin.
psst. ya doin' alright? there's a swab buck full of water up here. might cool ya off a bit. ya know, should it spill over and such.
Sarenth stiffens when Durvin volunteers to take the punishment of the box. When ordered to bed, he goes willingly, trying not to look back at where the Halfling will spend the night. He avoids talking to any of the others.
In the morning, he'll wake up early to replenish his spells, then report to the deck with the others to receive his assignment. Seeing the bulges in the pockets of his fellow bilgerworkers, he'll wait for a chance to snag a spar or stick and conceal on his person unseen.
0: acid splash, daze, detect magic, touch of fatigue
You pump vigorously at the bilge, but it doesn't take long for your fellows to accuse you of slacking.
What do ye think yer doin', skinny! Leavin' the work for me! Narwhal roars. Not at my post! He swiftly produces a dagger and attacks, followed closely by Fipps!
Hmmm...boats don't usually make that kind o' creaking noise...
Isabella checks once more to make sure she isn't followed, and then quickens her pace a bit, keeping her eyes open for Sarenth...or trouble.
Last thing a flimsy mage like himself needs is t'be stabbed. No wonder Plugg sent 'im down though, this place needs attention...Almost hope that whiny Dwarf has the spine for trouble; be fun to put down one of Scourge's little cronies...
To Rosie's explanation, he just seems a little surprised "Thought it was Reck."
All Durvin can do is croak back a dry "No, don't risk it." at Noro's offer.
Save yer bloody spells! Narwhal bellows as he slashes at you. Fipps steps to your other side and strikes just after. Both daggers are turned aside by your new force armor. Narwhal growls at the new protection and steps to the side. The pirates are positioning themselves to block the exits. You are getting pressed into the starboard side of the bilges with no escape route!
It is this scene that greets Isabella as she descends the ladder into the bilges.
About mid-day , there is a call from "Ratline" Ratsburger in the crow's nest, Sails! Sails starboard side and before us! Mr. Plugg, Scourge, and many of the crew rush to the rails to see. It's difficult, but you can just barely make out the topmost sails of a ship on the horizon.
Plugg stalks over to the Box, unlocks it, and kicks it open. Get up, scum! he bellows, We got prey! Get the Cap'n!
Scourge hurries down and disappears into the captain's cabin. He returns almost immidiately with the hulking Captain Harrigan. The man has the frame of an Orc in spite of his clearly human heritage. He lifts a telescopic glass to his eye and looks out. There is a quite moment as the crew waits for the word.
Full sail! He announces in a voice that commands obedience without question. Come about to South by South-West and spare no canvas! She's Raghdoumi!
"Avast, swabbies! No one pulls blades on a crewmate on my watch! Be done with your grudges and get back to your duties or you'll WISH it was Scourge at the lash!"
Fipps laughs and moves for Isabella while Narwhal stays focused on Sarenth. Apparently they truly mean business this time.
Noro stops her work at the calling of sail on the horizon.
she makes her way to the railing looking for signs of the ship.
This just might be an oppurtunity, best play our cards right on this one, need to see which way the winds blow concerning this new ship
After the captain makes his orders known Noro jumps to the task ensureing she keep herself useful. keeping the capatain and his gang convinced she wants to "fit in"
Reck retrieves his armor and weapons, ensures that they're ready for battle, and glances through his spellbook to refresh his memory.
Once up on deck, Reck is all smiles.
"Finally! A chance to earn some glory and gold in honest battle!"
Reck retrieves his armor and weapons, ensures that they're ready for battle, and glances through his spellbook to refresh his memory.
Once up on deck, Reck is all smiles.
"Finally! A chance to earn some glory and gold in honest battle!"
Barefoot Topin runs into you while you are preparing and chuckles. I like yer enthusiasm, but it'll take at least a day to catch a ship that far out. Nice armor though.
Sarenth calls another spell to mind, conjuring an invisible aid. "Stay between me and my foes!"
Sarenth grabs his makeshift club and swings it at Narwhal's head, aiming to knock him out instead of kill him.
Narwhal swings at Sarenth, but the water throws his balance off a bit and the swing thuds into the ship's hull.
Fipps advances on Isabella and attacks, but misses.
"Maybe 'avast' ain't clear enough for ya, fool!"
As Fipps Chumlet advances on her, dagger in hand, despite her clear warnings, Isabella snaps him across the leg with her whip.
Once he reaches arm's length, the scarlet sailor bares a devilish grin as he lunges for her, twisting out of the way and whirling both whips around in a storm of stings, stepping backwards about ten feet.
Poor Fipps doesn't stand a chance against the here to fore unknown skill of Isabella Valencia. He gasps at the first crack across his shin, but is undeterred and set in his course. Isabella's second strike catches the poor man across the face, opening a long gash along his jaw. Her second whip strike is less successful, and he manages to just barely escape the sting. He grunts in pain with every breath and looks unsteady on his feet.