With Caerlei's jab at the shark missing by a hair, the sharks redouble their poorly thought-out effort at tearing the boat apart with their less-than-adequately-sized maws at the command of their still-unseen handler.
Two of the sharks grasp hold of the boat with their teeth, but fail to deal any significant damage to it. In fact, one shark loses a few of its many teeth, getting them stuck in the wood as it attempts to furiously rip a chunk out of it as it would a living being. The third remaining shark bashes its head furiously against the boat, barely rocking the sturdy vessel, but failing to do any damage as well.
Clearly, these sharks aren't quite up for the task they've been given.
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"Great. We're fishing crew, and the skipper is fishing sharks. Osir, the sharks are under the bloody boat. What are you going to do use harsh language? Leave 'em alone. Osir, row with me. Robinton, if you're just singing, use the bloody tiller to guide us over to the next bit of shark meat over there."
Mabelode holds his action to row until Osir and Robinton act. He doesn't want to lose another action.
"Oh yeah sure. Ignore the mind controlled sharks. Excellent idea." Saranaja responds, rolling her eyes at the dhampir. She shifts her weight on her feet, trying to get her balance as she draws another blade, before lashing out at the shark again.
"Dagon's teeth..."Osir mutters in the Cheliaxian dialect, before switching into a number of garbled curses in his own Polyglot Caldaru language. They were highly colorful and inventitive to those who understood.
A powerful hand fell on Robinton's shoulder and gripped the man tightly. "Take the controls and guide us to the stranded men."
Osir hadn't realized the sharks would prove to be so ineffective against the Jolly boat and decided that Mabelode had a point. Furthermore, whoever was controling the sea-born carnivores might soon realize the same thing and send them against the flotsam the two floated upon.
Seizing oar in hand once more, he waited for Robinton to take control before putting his powerful muscles into rowing.
Zenu looks over at the sharks, continuing to paddle uselessly against the water. He sighs, eyeing the sea dubiously. He could swim faster than this improvised was taking him anywhere. The only problem with that was... He glances down at his arms, noticing more than a few splinters. Damn. The sharks would come to him, no doubt, much as any predator would come to a bleeding animal. By the Abyss, even in Kyonin had he heard tales that sharks had very little aversion to attempting to devour humanoids...
Sighing, the sorcerer goes back to work, failing nevertheless to paddle his way any further. He does, however, keep a careful eye out for anything coming closer to his little bit of flotsam, his gaze flicking nervously over the waves. Calistria help him, but this was exciting!
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"Aye, let the women do the fishing, they're obviously better than it than we are. Lets get moving then!" Robinton risks angering the two dangerous women sharing the boat with him with his statement, but gets to rowing none-the-less, continuing to whistle as he does so.
Despite his valiant efforts trying to organize Osir and Mabelode into rowing together, Robinton isn't able to get the ship to move any appreciable distance - the three burly men are helplessly disorganized while the two other crewmates stab and spear the sharks trying to gnaw on the ship.
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"Here, fishy, fishy, fishy! Come give momma a nice big..." Caerlei's words are interrupted by a well placed thrust towards the shark just off the port side of the jolly boat, A sway in the boat pitches her slightly off balance and ruins what might have been a killing blow. Caerlei clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth in vexation. Her weapon finds its mark, albeit with a less deadly precision than she had intended. Finding her feet again quickly, Caerlei hops back into the relative safety of the boat, glaive raised in anticipation of the shark's next approach.
Sparing a quick glance over her shoulder at her crew, Caerlei scoffs at the relative lack of results availed her brief survey. "Stop playing with yourselves and kill these chum-guzzling pests already!"
This is pointless, this bow isn't going to accomplish anything. If only I had a harpoon.
Trevor slips the bow back over his shoulder, then lies down on the flotsam to distribute his weight. He then starts trying to paddle towards the rowboat. However, his fear of more sharks in the area keeps him from putting serious effort to the task, and it is evident he is more focused on watching the waters than making actual headway.
With Caerlei's jab at the shark missing by a hair, the sharks redouble their poorly thought-out effort at tearing the boat apart with their less-than-adequately-sized maws at the command of their still-unseen handler.
Two of the sharks grasp hold of the boat with their teeth, but fail to deal any significant damage to it. In fact, one shark loses a few of its many teeth, getting them stuck in the wood as it attempts to furiously rip a chunk out of it as it would a living being. The third remaining shark bashes its head furiously against the boat, barely rocking the sturdy vessel, but failing to do any damage as well.
Clearly, these sharks aren't quite up for the task they've been given.
"Great. We're fishing crew, and the skipper is fishing sharks. Osir, the sharks are under the bloody boat. What are you going to do, use harsh language? Leave 'em alone. Osir, row with me. Robinton, if you're just singing, use the bloody tiller to guide us over to the next bit of shark meat over there."
"Oh yeah sure. Ignore the mind controlled sharks. Excellent idea." Saranaja responds, rolling her eyes at the dhampir. She shifts her weight on her feet, trying to get her balance as she draws another blade, before lashing out at the shark again.
Her blade strikes true, and slices open the back of one of the sharks trying to bite the boat. The creature twists violently and nearly pulls her sword from her hand, but instead only causing the blade to bite deeper as the red blood contaminates the water near the shark.
"Dagon's teeth..." Osir mutters in the Cheliaxian dialect, before switching into a number of garbled curses in his own Polyglot Caldaru language. They were highly colorful and inventitive to those who understood.
A powerful hand fell on Robinton's shoulder and gripped the man tightly. "Take the controls and guide us to the stranded men."
Osir hadn't realized the sharks would prove to be so ineffective against the Jolly boat and decided that Mabelode had a point. Furthermore, whoever was controling the sea-born carnivores might soon realize the same thing and send them against the flotsam the two floated upon.
Seizing oar in hand once more, he waited for Robinton to take control before putting his powerful muscles into rowing.
Zenu looks over at the sharks, continuing to paddle uselessly against the water. He sighs, eyeing the sea dubiously. He could swim faster than this improvised was taking him anywhere. The only problem with that was... He glances down at his arms, noticing more than a few splinters. Damn. The sharks would come to him, no doubt, much as any predator would come to a bleeding animal. By the Abyss, even in Kyonin had he heard tales that sharks had very little aversion to attempting to devour humanoids...
Sighing, the sorcerer goes back to work, failing nevertheless to paddle his way any further. He does, however, keep a careful eye out for anything coming closer to his little bit of flotsam, his gaze flicking nervously over the waves. Calistria help him, but this was [i]exciting![i]
"Aye, let the women do the fishing, they're obviously better than it than we are. Lets get moving then!" Robinton risks angering the two dangerous women sharing the boat with him with his statement, but gets to rowing none-the-less, continuing to whistle as he does so.
Despite his valiant efforts trying to organize Osir and Mabelode into rowing together, Robinton isn't able to get the ship to move any appreciable distance - the three burly men are helplessly disorganized while the two other crewmates stab and spear the sharks trying to gnaw on the ship.
Underneath the rescue crew, the being controlling the sharks grows angry and impatient. Seeing its pets completely fail at the task it's given them, perhaps it needs to take matters in its own hands..
<< | | | >>
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The fight from the night before and the restless period after has really taken its toll on Trevor, as he continues to try in vain to paddle towards safety. His muscles ache, his head is as foggy as the air around him, and all the while there is the threat of the sharks, as well as whatever was attacking the rest of their rescuers on board their ship.
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Saranaja grins unpleasantly as her blade finds it's target, her efforts rewarded with the water around the beast darkening with it's blood. With both her weapons now to hand and buoyed up by Roninton's tune and her success, she lashes out at the nearest surviving shark.
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As fog undulates and teases along the surface of the water, Caerlei begins to grow more aggravated by the moment. That the boat seems mostly impervious to the would-be assailants is all well and good, but she considers that it may well be but a matter of moments until the aquatic terrors are turned upon the men drifting on flotsam up ahead. The floundering efforts of her crewman to continue chopping through the waters is equally vexing, and she finds herself faced with precious few options beyond taking charge of the small vessel again.
"I can see the salt of the sea's spray is playing havoc on your tw*ts, so I guess we'll be rowing again after all! Now stop swinging the oars around like it's your manhood and row together ya fools. " Slamming down into her former seat, she retrieves her own position once again and begins slapping out another rhythm with her tail. She'd rather be leaning over the prow lancing the gnashing bastards below, but there was some reason to Mabelode's strategy even if the man refused to accept their situation. While they were certainly safe enough for the moment, the de facto rafts of those they sought to rescue would likely fair much more poorly against an attack. With any luck, they'd get to the floating morsels ahead before their attackers.
"Row harder, twits! First one whose arms give out is bunking with me tonight, you got it?" There was an unsettling thought.
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After numerous failed attempts at dealing any damage at all to the boat - the boat that is finally moving thanks to the motivational skills of Caerlei - the sharks, though still swimming around as if in a frenzy, no longer try and bite the boat. Instead, they seem to be..waiting for something.
Or someone.
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With the sharks no longer biting the boat and distracting the crew, the Jollyboat is finally able to make some progress towards the other stranded survivors. However, just as they finally make some headway, Robinton's oar hits something in the water, stopping his rowing entirely. Not a moment later, a burly scaled humanoid with a long, fish-like tail bursts from the water, its piscine head filled with a shark-like toothy maw. Its webbed claws grab onto the side of the boat mere inches away from the now-terrified Robinton as it uses its muscular arms to haul itself aboard, claws making deep marks into the wood as it does so.
The creature, standing about 7-feet tall even when hunched over on the boat and looking to weigh nearly two-hundred and fifty pounds, wears a suit of armor made out of a combination of shells and what looks to be cured human skin, as what can only be described as a human face is stitched into the armor at the shoulder, beard and all. On the creature's back sits a masterfully made heavy underwater crossbow - while its vicious claws remain empty.
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Osir did not hesitate and let the oar drop into the boat as the vicious creature from the deep climbed into the vessel. With his trident in hand once more, he sprang into action, having been waiting for just this moment. A sharp whistle pierces the air, followed by his decisive words "Pelinor, Flank!"
The large Osprey let out a high yewping shriek and then dove from its circling position overhead, coming up behind the sahaugin with a barrage of flapping wings and scratching talons, but it was it's curved beak which drove hom its point. Hammering at the fish-man's head, Pelinor pealed away scales to get at the meat beneath, even as Osir joined the combat with a two-handed thrust from his trident.
The trident buried itself in the Sahaugins waist as Osir snarled. "Worthless beast of the sea. The skin of man is no trophy to be worn. I, Osir Korzar, will be your end and send you to the burning fire's of the hells where you'll roast for an eternity."
He yanked the trident back, twisting it within the creature, tearing away scales and vital organs.
Saranaja recoils as the horrific creature claws it's way aboard beside her. "Whatever you are, the skin jacket does nothing for you. Now F@&~ OFF!" she yells, attempting to run it through with her Gladius and open some veins with her Kukri.
"Now that is something to stop rowing for. Get'em." Mabelode reacts to the armored fish warrior. He shoots him with a fire bolt.
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Although stabbed by a trident in the gut and slashed by numerous other bladed weapons, the Sahuagin is able to use the opportunity to claw Mabelode in the chest as the man attempts to hit the creature with a ray of fire. Its sharp, rending claw rips a series of large gashes down Mabelode's front, exposing his chest and wounds to the salty air.
Despite his greivous injury, Mabelode stands firm and conjures forth a bolt of fire, concentrating on the magical ability over the searing pain in his chest. While the attack failed to disrupt his concentration, it did, however, disrupt his aim - the bolt nearly hits Robinton in the head as it wizzes by, sizzling some of the man's black hair.
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Zenu continues to drift helplessly on the waves, though he looks at the boat with an increased curiosity. What exactly was going on over there? Battle being joined already? But with what? He couldn't quite make it out.
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As the monstrous humanoid clambers onto the boat right next to him, Robinton's eyes suddenly go wide as he interrupts his whistling for the briefest of moments - long enough to yell, "Oh no, the Sahuagin have found me!", before continuing his whistling and whipping out one of his daggers to attempt to add one more wound to the now-heavily wounded creature.
However, his dagger no where near makes it to the mark - instead, he loses his balance at the last second and his dagger ends up cutting into the boat at the Sahuagin's feet.
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As fog undulates and teases along the surface of the water, Caerlei begins to grow more aggravated by the moment. That the boat seems mostly impervious to the would-be assailants is all well and good, but she considers that it may well be but a matter of moments until the aquatic terrors are turned upon the men drifting on flotsam up ahead. The floundering efforts of her crewman to continue chopping through the waters is equally vexing, and she finds herself faced with precious few options beyond taking charge of the small vessel again.
"I can see the salt of the sea's spray is playing havoc on your tw*ts, so I guess we'll be rowing again after all! Now stop swinging the oars around like it's your manhood and row together ya fools. Row!" Slamming down into her former seat, she retrieves her own position once again and begins slapping out another rhythm with her tail. She'd rather be leaning over the prow lancing the gnashing bastards below, but there was some reason to Mabelode's strategy even if the man refused to accept their situation. While they were certainly safe enough for the moment, the de facto rafts of those they sought to rescue would likely fair much more poorly against an attack. With any luck, they'd get to the floating morsels ahead before their attackers.
"Row harder, twits! First one whose arms give out is bunking with me tonight, you got it?" There was an unsettling thought.
The fight from the night before and the restless period after has really taken its toll on Trevor, as he continues to try in vain to paddle towards safety. His muscles ache, his head is as foggy as the air around him, and all the while there is the threat of the sharks, as well as whatever was attacking the rest of their rescuers on board their ship.
The fight from the night before and the restless period after has really taken its toll on Trevor, as he continues to try in vain to paddle towards safety. His muscles ache, his head is as foggy as the air around him, and all the while there is the threat of the sharks, as well as whatever was attacking the rest of their rescuers on board their ship.
With the sharks no longer biting the boat and distracting the crew, the Jollyboat is finally able to make some progress towards the other stranded survivors. However, just as they finally make some headway, Robinton's oar hits something in the water, stopping his rowing entirely. Not a moment later, a burly scaled humanoid with a long, fish-like tail bursts from the water, its piscine head filled with a shark-like toothy maw. Its webbed claws grab onto the side of the boat mere inches away from the now-terrified Robinton as it uses its muscular arms to haul itself aboard, claws making deep marks into the wood as it does so.
The creature, standing about 7-feet tall even when hunched over on the boat and looking to weigh nearly two-hundred and fifty pounds, wears a suit of armor made out of a combination of shells and what looks to be cured human skin, as what can only be described as a human face is stitched into the armor at the shoulder, beard and all. On the creature's back sits a masterfully made heavy underwater crossbow - while its vicious claws remain empty.
Osir did not hesitate and let the oar drop into the boat as the vicious creature from the deep climbed into the vessel. With his trident in hand once more, he sprang into action, having been waiting for just this moment. A sharp whistle pierces the air, followed by his decisive words "Pelinor, Flank!"
The large Osprey let out a high yewping shriek and then dove from its circling position overhead, coming up behind the sahaugin with a barrage of flapping wings and scratching talons, but it was it's curved beak which drove hom its point. Hammering at the fish-man's head, Pelinor pealed away scales to get at the meat beneath, even as Osir joined the combat with a two-handed thrust from his trident.
The trident buried itself in the Sahaugins waist as Osir snarled. "Worthless beast of the sea. The skin of man is no trophy to be worn. I, Osir Korzar, will be your end and send you to the burning fire's of the hells where you'll roast for an eternity."
He yanked the trident back, twisting it within the creature, tearing away scales and vital organs.
Saranaja recoils as the horrific creature claws it's way aboard beside her. "Whatever you are, the skin jacket does nothing for you. Now F$&% OFF!" she yells, attempting to run it through with her Gladius and open some veins with her Kukri.
Both attacks connect to the Sahuagin, her gladius stabbing into the creature's shoulder while her kukru connects with the creatures head, near where Pelinor pecks at it.
All off these attacks in combination serve to do two things - both enrage the sahuagin for the briefest of seconds - and kill it, ending its split-second frenzy.
As the monstrous humanoid clambers onto the boat right next to him, Robinton's eyes suddenly go wide as he interrupts his whistling for the briefest of moments - long enough to yell, "Oh no, the Sahuagin have found me!", before continuing his whistling and whipping out one of his daggers to attempt to add one more wound to the now-heavily wounded creature..
..just as the creature in question falls over, dead, on top of him, his dagger stabbing it in its neck as it lands on him.
"Oomph. Someone get this off me?"
With the sahuagin dead, the sharks no longer have any handler to keep them here - as a result, each swims off in a different direction, disappearing beneath the waves.
As the combat ends, the crew of the Jollyboat realize that the Wormwood has gone relatively silent as well. There is no more gunfire or yelling of men - and no more screaming.
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Saranaja lets out a relieved sigh as the Sahaugin tumbles onto Robinton. She starts to sit down before her legs give way, leaving her sprawled somewhat in the bottom of the boat. "He's a what now?" she asks, watching as Robinton tries to get the creature off of himself. She lets him flail around for a few moments while she sheathes her weapons, before grabbing hold of the fishman's armor and tugging him off, setting about searching him. She is disappointed with the haul she finds, and leaves it all on the corpse. If the others haven't gotten the boat moving to rescue the others yet then she will provide 'encouragement' by belittling/abusing the menfolk; Caerlei on the other hand seems to have made a reasonable impression on her.
Osir pushed the trident back into the sahaugin's neck for good measure, before withdrawing it once more. He did not however set it back down and return to the oars just yet. Letting out a high pitched whistle, he held out his free hand and waited for the large Osprey Pelinor to land and perch on his gloved forearm. Breathing in the sea air and he steadied his gaze on Saranaja. It was clear he was wary of the woman they picked up floating in this wreckage. It didn't appear as if she were part of the sahaugin trap, but there was still much they didn't know.
"It was a sahaugin. Dangerous denizens of the deep. A danger to all who ply the waters and they do not usually travel alone." Osir scratched at his beard as he tried to pierce the fog bank that they were currently settled inside. "Who are the other two men still adrift and where did you come from?"
A sideways glance was given to Mabelode and Caerlie. He knew he wasn't the only one who had noticed the sudden silence reigning aboard the Wormwood and while he wouldn't feel any regret at it's Captain perishing, there were some aboard the vessel that he held respect for. In addition, the prospect of being devoid a ship out here was not reassuring. The worry of food supply prompted Osir to plunge his trident back into the water, spearing the still floating shark that had been given a labotomy by Caerlie's scything blade.
"Well from the sounds of fighting from your ship," she waves her hand vaguely, having lost track of it's position since the noise stopped. "he wasn't."
She gives a lazy shrug. "I heard Trevor shouting before, I couldn't really hear the other one to know. As far as where..." she gestures again, in the opposite direction this time, the outline of the flaming ship still visible in the fog. "Some enormous chelish bastard blew us up. If it hadn't meant drifting around waiting for rescue I'd have thanked em. The captain and mate were filthy bastards." she shudders. "Be thankful for the fog though, I dunno what your ship's like but I doubt it'd be a match for for them. Now are you going to rescue the others or keep poking dead things with your mighty spear?"
"You may want to hold your thanks for now; we're not taking you to a picnic, love. The Wormwood is a flotsam-circus without the thrills. Buncha roustabout eunuchs with a mancrush on their Captain and little more, to be honest." Caerlei turns to regard the small handful of men who had accompanied her on the jolly boat, which in turn elicits a quick sigh and a roll of her eyes. "I guess these clowns aren't so bad, though. They're good with an oar." Shooting Osir an appraising look, she concludes, "...and with a poker, apparently."
Smiling broader than the situation warrants, she nudges the dead sahuagin out of her path, placing her left foot above the prow and leaning on her thigh as she strains to hear anything beyond the fog banks that have enclosed their mighty vessel. The length of barbed chain protruding from her tailbone whips down into the boat and wraps itself around the oar she had previously employed in their daring rescue of the three sea-stranded individuals—the strange, scaled woman included. Turning to look at the new blood, Caerlei graps the oar momentarily and tosses the thing in Saranaja's direction. "Rescuing the others sounds like a great idea! Get to rowing." Caerlei turns around and begins slapping out a rhythm again. With any luck, the others aboard the Wormwood had found an opportunity to bury something sharp in a few choice selections among the rest of the crew. Given her luck recently, however, she doubts it severely. She would have to settle for collecting a couple more salt-kissed sods to torment.
Mabelode will look for a moment for the creature's melee weapon and confirm the creature is not undead. Finding none, he settles back ready with his oar not wanting to lead.
During the banter between the women, he decides to pray to his Divine Patron for life-giving sustenance. With a silent prayer, Mabelode exudes negative energy that billows around the boat like a invisible, cold fog. He breathes deep as his wounds knit closed. A second one fills the area again a few seconds later.
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"As long as there aren't any ghouls on board..." she mutters, shuddering. When Caerlei tosses the oar in her direction she just looks at it for a few moments, before looking back up at the tiefling, not moving from where she is laying sprawled against the side of the boat. "Yeah I've never been great at manual labor to start with, and I've been lying on a chunk of wreckage all night after my ship exploded and I blacked out. Unless you want to go round in circles again like those guys were I'd say you should pick that back up."
Osir did not say anything for the moment, though it was clear that his opinion of the scaled woman they had rescued from her piece of flotsam wasn't improving. She came off as ungreatful and unwilling to work. If the wretched captain of the Wormwood still lived, he wasn't sure Saranaja would survive long aboard the vessel.
"What was the name of your ship and why did the Chelish bastards sink you?" Osir asked even as he settled back into position at the oars. He wasn't too keen on doing more rowing, but he was disquieted by the silence now coming from the vessel he had been Shanghai'd into serving aboard had was eager to discover the fate of the Wormwood and its crew.
"Lets pick up the other two survivors out there, they might be more useful at the oars then that one is or at the very least more greatful for the rescue." Osir said to the three he had left the Wormwood with, while casting his head in the direction of the woman. He didn't expect much in the way of thanks, but the insinuations and subtle insults were not appreciated by the large Caldaru sailor.
Mabelode's eyebrow arches at the ghoul comment. He had heard worse but not from someone that he had just fished out of the sea. That was new. He then shook his head at her manual labor comment. She won't last long and is not worth protecting, he thought to himself.
He threw Osir a conspiratorial grin when it was clear that their assessment of the first fish aligned. His oar falls into rhythm with the large Caldaru sailor.
Zenu continues to push himself towards the small rescue boat, eyeing it and wondering whether it was moving further away at the exact same rate as his bit of flotsam moved towards it. The half-elf laughs silently at the thought, shaking his head. No doubt he was simply useless at this. Well, given enough time, he would most certainly become more skilled at this sort of thing. Well, hopefully not this exact sort of thing, Zenu corrects himself with a small grin. It wouldn't do to end up in this position again, after all.
"Get. This. Damn. Thing. Off me!"
Robinton grunts as he shoves the massive frame of the Sahuagin off of him and onto the otherside of the boat, the act of which causes the ship to rock dangerously. "Well, now thats taken care of.. lets finish our task and get back to the Wormwood. Even with our less than friendly officers, I'd prefer them to sharks and sahuagin.."
A minute goes by as the group rows to the other survivors, allowing both Zenu and Trevor to hop onto the boat. With little to say beyond thanking them for their timely rescue, the group does a quick search of the wreckage and is unable to find anything of value - if there had been anything, it's long on its way to the ocean floor by now.
By the time they reach the Wormwood, Mister Plugg's yelling can be heard again, in addition to the sound of splashing - bodies being thrown overboard, it seems. A stray sahuagin corpse nearly lands in the jollyboat as it is heaved overboard - what follows, however, turns out to be Runolf's corpse. Two tridents, both made out of sharpened shells, stick out of his chest - Caerlei is able to easily tell that numerous of his major organs were pierced simultaenously, and in all likelyhood, he died instantly. A moment later, Sareivat's body follows, a massive chunk of flesh having been taken out of his neck - numerous shark-like teeth still embed his skin.
"'Bout time you sods finished! You missed all of the fun! Had ourselves some boarders while you were off playing sailor down there." Plugg seems oddly happy, if such a thing is at all possible, as he addresses the returning crew. Perhaps he enjoyed the slaughter - for there looks to have been at least a dozen or more Sahuagin that boarded the Wormwood. Indeed, it seems as if only two crew died - Sareivat and Runolf, though numerous other crewmates show injuries.
"Is that all you found?" His face frowns at the sight of only three survivors and no cargo.
Mabelode tries to snag one of the tridents.
As Trevor is hauled into the longboat, he barely manages to mutter a thanks thanks to the rigors the previous night has out him through. He looks over those assembled warily, as it appears to be quite a motley crew. At least there aren't any undead...yet...
Once aboard the actual vessel, Trevor does his best to stand at attention despite the weariness of his body. His time aboard other ships taught him that it was best to appear to have some experience serving on ships than to look like dead weight and another mouth to feed.
Saranaja doesn't both to respond to Osir's insults, closing her eyes for a few moments now that she can rest safely. When they reach Trevor she opens them again, sitting up a little straighter to peer ahead through the mists. She wasn't ungrateful for the rescue, or particularly lazy, she did her work when she had to, but she really wasn't in a good condition to do anything right now once the adrenaline of the fight faded.
"Hey, it's Zenu." she says with a smile. He was probably the best part of serving aboard the Ghoul's Grasp and being a fellow worshiper of Calistria they'd had some fun. "The Ghoul's Grasp, and you just said it." she belatedly replies to Osir, meeting his gaze should he care to direct it her way. "They're Chelish, they don't normally need much convincing to go after pirates. What they're doing this far south I don't know."
When the Wormwood comes into sight Saranaja remains silent, growing a bit more serious as she starts to assess the new situation she finds herself in. She clambers up on deck as gracefully as she can manage and looks the crew over for potential, giving particular attention to the person doing the talking, presumably the one in charge; a mate or bosun or the like.
Zenu smiles brightly as he is rescued, bowing with a flourish that somehow doesn't overturn the flotsam on which he stands. "Deepest gratitudes, good sirs, lovely lady. I see that I am not the only survivor of the dubiously named 'Ghoul's Grasp'. Saranaja, my dear, it is good to see you survived!" His grin broadens as he winks at the woman. She wasn't quite human, he had figured out back when they'd had their fun, but he'd quickly forgotten what exactly she was. No matter, though, it would surely become clear in time! He looks to Trevor then, nodding with a small grin. "Ah, and Trevor, was it? Good to see you as well. I trust our esteemed boatswain did not make it out of the unfortunate explosion?" The half-elf's eyes twinkle brightly with amusement, and he settles down for a relaxing ride along the boat. Well, insofar as a boat ride with a tyrannical lady could be. What exactly was she, anyways? A thought for another time, he supposed, giving his most charming smile to Caerlei as he carefully does whatever she asks of him.
Nevertheless, when the small vessel reaches its larger parent, Zenu's good mood has returned. Truly, he was on the sea! Nothing could be better. When the frowning man aboard the... Termiteboard, was it? In any case, he smiles cheerfully at Plugg, carefully keeping his mouth shut for the time being.
In the shadow cast by the considerable length of The Wormwood Caerlei turns around and offers reprieve to the grueling pace she has set the rowers to. Her eyes coldly regard the newcomers, each earning a prolonged glance perched above an unsettling smile. Finally, she stretches her arm out to the side to point up at the ship they're about to become familiar with. "See that big wooden hunk of carnies and piss stains? That's the infamous Wormwood. Cheerful as a zombie and twice as smelly. Here's some advice to keep your insides where they belong: if you don't fancy a good scourging like Mabelode here, don't let 'em catch you ditching your rum ration. Cut it with water. And make plenty of friends. I'd recommend starting with me! Otherwise, I might have to serve you up to the crew to give us a break from Fishgut's rancid stew. I'm Caerlei, by the way. Ever so thrilled to make your acquaintance!"
Caerlei shows little reaction to the corpses of her recent pals being tossed overboard, merely offering a pensive 'hmm.' It had been a lot of work making what few friends she had here, and now most of them had been skewered by fish-men. She hopes the next wave prove a little more resilient. The thought that they were allowed to die does not escape her either. She would have to tread carefully that a similar fate does not befall her.
"You too." she greets Zenu simply, but with a warm smile. As far as what she was, she doubted many would even have heard of a Vishkanya this far west; that's assuming they even noticed her fine scales. The eyes and the strange skin-tone were something of a giveaway though...
"Wormwood... I've heard of it." she murmurs, eyeing the ship in a new light. She snorts when Caerlei suggests cutting rum with water. "Don't worry, I can hold my liquor..." a bold statement given her slim, lithe figure, but she was actually pretty tough, and she'd drunk more than her fair share of swill despite her age. When Caerlei introduces herself Saranaja frowns, in the commotion she'd forgotten whether she gave her name already or not. "Uhh, Saranaja."
Mabelode fiercely grins when Caerlei mentions his name while fishing his new trident out of Runulf's red body. He was glad that demon-witch was in his crew. He casually climbs the net that covers the hull between the jolly boat and the deck making sure not to drop his new sticker. He lowers his expectations to attempt to avoid being surprised by anything he sees when he finally climbs aboard the Wormwood.
"Keep your belongings close and don't openly insult the first mate and his cronies, loathsome though they are." Osir chimed in, adding to Caerlei's advice as they rowed closer to the Wormwood. He had offered his name and a hand to the other two survivors of the wreck and added an additional offer. "If any of you are in need of a weapon, I can loan you something with only a small interest added."
As they got closer to the large ship, he looked over the shark and the sahaugin still in the jollyboat. He was fully prepared to deal with Sahaugin had the vessel been overwhelmed, but if it wasn't perhaps the shark and the sahaugin's armor would count as some kind of loot. While he wouldn't personally even consider wearing the manskin armor, Harrigan and Plugg were of a different character all together.
When he heard the words from Mr. Plugg he felt a wave of disappointment. Had he wanted more battle or did he merely want this man dead? His eyes then fell on the corpse of Runolf Redbeard and he felt his teeth press together. A queasiness took his stomach and he grimaced. He had liked the Runolf, as much as he could in the short time they had known each other. It also did not escape his notice that the only two corpses were members of the 'new recruits' that stood up to the first mates gang.
"Sahaugin attacked us as well. We have this shark and this Sahaugin and his armor. The Sahaugin's head could make a fine trophy, perhaps? Not to mention these two additional crew and information. They served aboard the Ghoul's Grasp a vessel which is no more. Sunk by the Chelish." Normally Osir would have been close mouthed when talking to the first mate, but he thought this information might spare them all from punishments, especially the new comers who judging by their fatigued expressions wouldn't be able to stand up to a flogging.
"Hmph. Figures you couldn't even salvage a bit of cargo." Mister Plugg folds his arms in annoyance and looks over the three new crewmates. "Still, made up for our loss of crew, at least, and they can't be any worse than what we had. You!" Plugg unfolds his arms and points at Trevor, nearly stabbing the man in the eye thanks to his proximity. "Need ourselves a new rigger, last one couldn't survive a few spears to the chest. Today's your lucky day, as it would be."
Looking over the other two new crewmates, Saranaja and Zenu, Plugg walks close to each of them, looking them over as one would inspect new cargo. After a brief minute, Plugg snorts, unimpressed. "Looks like you two could use some time swabbing the decks. Never have too many swabs. Now get to it! Back to work you lazy bilgerats!"
After the remaining sahuagin bodies are dumped overboard, Plugg issues everyone their day's jobs - no rest for the weary as it would be, even after the ship's been boarded. Sahuagin or no Sahuagin, the day goes on. With a net increase in crew, the Wormwood benefitted overall from the encounter - even if two unfortunate crewmembers didn't. Runolf and Sareivat would be missed, but only by a few - plenty of others could care less, while Scourge in particular seemed almost joyous that day as he went about whipping everyone to work.
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