Wyn grabs hold of a set of oars, then shuts her eyes a moment. However briefly, she is overcome by the panicked sense that once she starts rowing, she will never be allowed to stop.
Taking a breath and shaking her head, mentally reminding herself she is no longer on the Hellsmouth she begins to row out along with the others, and awaits the signal.
As he prepares to take on the next challenge side by side with his crewmates from the Empty Lighthouse, Doran breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Knowing he'll have a moment away from the watchful eyes of Plugg and the other witnesses to the charade of emnity between himself and Rawkins makes this new test seem much more manageable.
While he and his friends settle in to the small jollyboat, he offers up a bit of strategy. "Thorn and I will probably be the best shots with the grappling hooks. If the rest of you row, we can have two rowers to a side and make good time to the ship when Krine gives the signal. Once we're there, Thorn and I get the hooks up, and a couple of our strongest should scramble up the side and try to push back the folks throwing chaff at us, so the rest of us can get up quick. Wyn and John, you want to do that?"
As he says this last, he sees the shattered look on John's face, presumably at the mention of chumming for sharks, and says, "Maybe John comes up second to last - not leading the charge, not left behind in the boat. And Wyn goes first, with Thorn and I following. What do you all think?"
"Sounds like a good plan," Wyn says. "I'll definitely be up for pushing at those two."
Riaris Krine verbally lashes at the crew as they try to throw the grappling hooks with some degree of precision. She saves most of the venom for those without the martial skill required to hit the targets - Beshra, Hojo, and the like - but she still manages to say some truly vile things about the rest that would make a Calistran cleric blush. "What are you trying to do? Your wrist is limper than your manhood," she shouts at Ollivor at one point. Kiffer simply giggles and repeats her words.
"Easy to say... I haven't seen anyone eager to shack up with either of you..." he mutters.
The the instructions come out as they're ordered into the boat and the water is chummed about them. Having seen one thresher in action, Ollivor knows just how dangerous things can be.
Fortunately, Doran provides good sense as almost always
While he and his friends settle in to the small jollyboat, he offers up a bit of strategy. "Thorn and I will probably be the best shots with the grappling hooks. If the rest of you row, we can have two rowers to a side and make good time to the ship when Krine gives the signal. Once we're there, Thorn and I get the hooks up, and a couple of our strongest should scramble up the side and try to push back the folks throwing chaff at us, so the rest of us can get up quick. Wyn and John, you want to do that?"
"Notice you don't mention my name, Doran. What do you want me to tend to?"
"Didn't mean to leave you out, Ollie. I think you join the rowers to get us to the ship quick-like. Then once the hooks are set and Wyn and Thorn have softened up the defense a bit, I go up, and the rest of you follow." Doran knows that no plan of battle survives the first few moments of contact with the enemy, and that this is more or less a battle for their lives, even if it's disguised as an exercise with shipmates. With this thought in mind, he knows he has to make things as clear as possible.
"Right, here's what I think we do. Thorn and I stay in the bow with the hooks, ready to throw as soon as we're in decent range and think we can make it. Wyn and Ollivor take the fore oars, John and Vrunyar the aft. That way we're lined up more or less in order of boarding, from bow to stern. Once we're hooked on and can get snug, or even close, to the side of the ship, Wyn goes up first, followed by Thorn. Then it'll go me, Ollivor, John and Vrunyar." He looks around to be sure his explanation is clear to his friends, as confusion could mean their deaths.
Shrugging with a fatalistic grin, he adds, "Of course, things'll go different, or fall apart, or Krine will have some awful surprise waitin' fer us. In that case, remember we talked about a plan, and improvise."
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Sitting in the rocking boat, John listened silently as Doran outlined the plan, it was a good one and John agreed whole hardly, with the exception of who should go up the lines first. Glancing down at the water in concentration, John watches for the tell-tell indication of a fin in the water of the shadow glide of a predator below the surface. He had to force himself to keep from shaking. Doran, Wyn and I have some experience working together. Perhaps we should go up the ropes at the first time so we can spot each other?
John has been nervous ever since Krine mentioned chumming the water. He keeps touching his sharktooth pendant and licking his lips.
From their vantage point John watched as the foul mouthed woman indeed held true to her threat. Several sailors had buckets that they began using to trail blood and rancid meat into the water. John shook nervously and his knuckles whitened. Rowing alongside Wyn, John cursed to himself. They only have a minute or two before the sharks arrives. This is utter bullsh!t. John thought. Gods dammed pirates! Shaking his head John glanced back at Doran. The sooner we start the better. But while we are rowing, tell me this. Have you found out anything useful during your time among Plugg and his cronies?
"Sounds good, Doran," Ollivor nods.
He listens to John, of course, but beyond that, he notices something, "you okay John, you seem on edge."
He nods as Doran and the others decide how to approach the next training exercise. He swings his arms in circles and stretches from side to side. ”I image they’ll throw kitchen scraps on us. Maybe the sick bay’s chamber pot,” he shudders. ”Are we ever armed with crossbows? It’d be useful if those not climbing first could shoot the defenders.”
Vrunyar grabs a set of oars, inspecting the handles worn by sweat from countless sailors. He looks at the others, ”Any trick to this? Put them in the water and pull, right?”
”John," the dwarf says after Ollivor asks if he's alright,"maybe we can talk to the doctor about fitting your peg with an...extra piece for climbing ropes. I picture something like this,” he indicates the rowlock.
Doran listens to John's suggestion that he join Wyn in the first boarding effort and responds, "I'm not cap'n of this little boat, nor do I wish to be. You looked a bit spooked there, at the mention of chumming - and you've good cause to be. But if you want to go first with Wy, by all means, go to it. So it'll be Wyn, John, Thorne, me, Ollie and Vrunyar. Unless it's something else entirely when the moment comes."
As they row out to their staring positions, Doran is quiet for a moment, then says, "I haven't really learned much from Plugg, except what a right bastard he is. But he seems to have accepted our little ruse, and I think I can try to build on that and actually get a little info out of him."
Wyn reaches over to Vrunyar and shows him the best way to grip the oar. "I know more about rowing than I ever wanted to..." She trails off.
She turns to John as the others call attention to his nervousness. "Indeed, we'll be looking out for each other. We won't let any of us fall in, if we can help it. Or if we do I'm of a mind to push Krine in after, punishment be damned."
”Thanks Wyn,” Vrunyar says. [b]”We’ll need a good pace setting chant. Doran you know one?”
Shading his eyes, he looks at the ship in the distance, then glances at John’s face. ”I don’t see the signal yet. Remember John, we made a pledge. Focus on your vengeance. You’re not going to let some chummed up waters take you from your goal.”
Thorn sat quietly on the edge of the boat listening to Doran give out his plan to their small boarding party. After hearing the plan Thorn stared out into the horizon drifting off into his memories. The rest of the voices grow weaker until they are drowned out by the voices in his head...
"There it is Espen, The Arch of Aroden! Soon we will return home with epic stories of grandeur to pass on to your children." Thorn walks up behind Espen and rests his hand on Espen's shoulder. The whole Chelish fleet has come to see us home, lets give them something to remember the Ulfen People by." Espen turned to the men and yelled "PUT YOUR BACKS INTO IT", glory awaits for no man. You must seize it and mold it into your image." Thorn stood proud as he watched Espen lead the men and grow into a man his father would have been proud of. Thorn turned back to the horizon and gazed upon the wall of ships blocking their passage home. Thorn thought to himself "No one will keep me from full filling my promise, "NO ONE" Thorn blurted out in anger. "HOLD STEADY AND MAKE READY FOR RAMMING SPEED" yelled Thorn to the crew of rowers, breaking their oars and backs with sheer determination. Thorn reached for an arrow from his quiver and slowly raised his bow taking aim. Drawing back the the eagle feather fletchings flush with his cheek taking deadly aim. Thorn let loose the arrow and watched as the Captain of their targeted ship clutched at the arrow centered through the Adams apple of his throat. "HOLD FAST AND BRACE FOR IMPACT".......
Thorn snapped back to the present at a pat on the back from Doran. Thorn looks at Doran and says "Sounds good, I will be ready." Thorn grabs the grappling hook and slowly coils the rope in his hand to allow for a clean throw and no snags in the line to misdirect his cast.
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Eyes temporally hooded, John scanned the waters quietly. In the background he could hear the voices of his friends and companions as they offered words of encouragement. It helped, but not by much. Sharks were a primal terror to John. When he slept he dreamed of them. Of being alone in the sea adrift as they slowly closed in. It was a visceral feeling. He hated that he was afraid of them, but there wasn't a thing he could do about the fear. After he had been discharged he would wake some nights in his bed next to Alima, screaming and shaking from the snippets of memories from the attack. He had always felt that he had lost part of himself that day, that the shark had not just taken his leg, but some of his courage. Before that day, he had been like most younger men, convinced somehow of his immortality. He knew better now. Eyes looking away, John reached up and touched the shark-tooth pendant he wore around his neck. He would not forget. One day he would find the bastard that took his leg, but that day was not today. Today he had friends he had to help. Shaking his head, John took a ragged breath out. Right then mates, the pledge. Breathing just the little bit easier. John nodded to himself. Some of you I have talked to, others I haven't had time to until now, but Vrunyar is right. Eyes looking out towards the endless expanse of the sea, John felt a trickle of sweat run down his shoulder blades and along his spine. Vrunyar knows, as does Ollivor, but I think you should all know. Gripping the oar in his hands tightly, Johns knuckles go white. I'm planning to put a bullet in Plugg's head. I don't know when, and I don't know how, but ever since he killed Iakob it's become personal. He has my name and if he gets the chance he will end me. I'm telling you this now because I trust each of you. Aside from us in this boat only Hojo knows. Taking one of his corded forearms, John whipped the sweat from his brow. I'm not foolish enough to think that we can take him on the Wormwood, but a time will come when we have the chance. Perhaps the pirates will take another prize like the Empty Lighthouse and the captain will assign us as crew. John shrugged. When it does, I want you to stand with me.
"Oh that's for certain, John. Hell, I'm tempted to start the mutiny early and push Krine into the chum. But you're right, best to wait till we have the distraction of another fight."
"Timing it right it is," Ollivor comment. He wonders when that might come up though. It seems they're out matched, and not just in numbers.
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Rubbing his chin thoughtfully as the sun beat down on his shoulders, John nodded at his friends words. I won't risk your lives foolishly. And if possible when it does happen I want us to settle things on shore. I have been talking to Sandra about Besmara, and feuds should be settled on shore. Wiping the sweat again, John sighs. The best we can do right now is quietly prepare. Doran has been gathering weapons and supplies for us. I have been trying to make allies with some of the people onboard the ship. Keep that up. Grab whatever you can. Someone needs to get friendly with Grok and see about getting us back our belongings. When the time comes, we need to have steel in our hands and allies at our backs. Eyes growing hard, John frowns. It won't be easy, but it's doable. We wait, prepare and then strike when they don't know we are ready.
"I'll help however I can. Getting friendly isn't my area of expertise, though. Even when I try..." she thinks back to her various efforts to try to get to know the crew, which had been middling to spectacularly bad. The only crewman who cared for her who wasn't aboard that rowboat was Crimson, and that was because she'd saved him from death by keelhauling. And he seemed to like her to a point that made Wyn feel uncomfortable, so she was afraid to talk to him again.
"Well, all I am is a wall of meat with little experience at sea, save for what I was forced to do on the Hellsmouth. No reason anyone would want to listen to me."
She shakes her head. "Only thing I'm good for is having a strong arm, but you've got that when you need it. All of you do." She smiles wryly. "Now, if I lose my arm, I'm f%@$ed."
A loud conch horn blows from the Wormwood - the sign from Riaris Krine that the boarding is to begin. The heads of several crewmen pop up over the side of the ship, readying items to throw at them. From a hundred yards out, it's not clear who is waiting for them. From their vantage point, they can see the other rowboat on the other side of the ship, angled towards it in the same fashion as them. When the horn blows, the rowboat's rowers start pumping away. Their speed is fine, but not excellent; the former crew of the Lighthouse can beat them to the ship if they try and get a head start.
Doran hears the conch sound and looks quickly over his shoulder at his crewmates. "Oars front!", he calls in a clear voice. "On my mark, stroke." He pauses an instant for his friends to align themselves, then calls out "Stroke...stroke...stroke..stroke..", his pace accelerating slightly as the rowers find their rhythm.
He then turns his focus to the rail of the Wormwood, studying who is waiting for them. Some aboard will be eager to push them into the jaws of the waiting shakrs, others will try to prevent that, might even subtly try to assist them in getting aboard safely. He takes a couple of calming breaths as they get under way, and hefts the grappling hook.
Head down, Vrunyar focuses on pulling the oars in time with Doran’s voice. The sun reflects off his sweaty arms and face. After about a minute of rowing, he starts to exhale forcefully at the end of each stroke; punctuating Doran’s ”Stroke...stroke...stroke,” with ”Ha...ha...ha.” Despite the obvious effort and the serious nature of this training, he is grinning.
Ollivor strains compared to his compatriots, though he still tries his level best to contribute. "I think I may have one..." He mutters as the chant of stroke goes on
The loud roar of the horn bellowing out caused the boat to jerk forward with the heavy pulls of their small but able crew of rowers. Thorn bends his knees slightly to catch his balance and quickly begins to scan the Wormwood for possible weak points to target.
Thorn observes the slight rocking in the boat coming from one side of the boat pulling stronger than the other and the unbalanced weight of its passengers. Thorn shifts to the opposite side of the boat from Doran to help balance the boat and keep it smooth and steady as they pull closer to their target.
With Wyn's powerful and tested arms rowing the small boat, along with a decent cadence from Doran and the shared rowing duties of Ollivor and Vrunyar, the six in the jolly boat make it within range of the Wormwood considerably faster than the others. As they slide out of view, the other group is a good half minute or so behind them. The former crew of the Lighthouse can take their time to get up to the deck. The faces of the Wormwood's crew pop up over the side, ready to make it a miserable experience for them to clamber aboard.
Thorn's sharp eyes spot a few things for them to be aware of. Most of the sailors are holding items intended to disgust: raw fish, old grease, human waste. One of two of them have actual weapons, though; from his vantage point, it looks like Maheem and Tam Tate, with javelins or harpoons. As if that is not dangerous enough, several sharks have appeared in the chummed water to feed on the fish. Their fins run above the water between their small boat and the Wormwood.
Wyn nods at Ollivor and keeps on rowing.
Ollivor works hard, but frowns as his cadence is off
Doran sees Ollivor's timing is a bit off from Wyn's. Though he's not large or strong, Doran has pulled an oar or two in his day. He sets the grapple down for a moment and reaches for the handle end of Ollivor's oar. He adds little strength, but is able to assist Ollivor in matching Wyn's timing, and the little boat surges forward under the more coordinated stroke.
Thorn shouts out to the rest of their small crew "Prepare yourselves, I believe we're in for a shatty day and I mean literally". Thorn begins to spin the grappling hook off the side of the boat as the crew pulls. Thorn watches Doran jump next to Ollior and help him stay in sync with Wyn and Vrunyar. "PULL, TOGETHER, PULL!" Thorn Yells as they make their way closer to the Wormwood. Thorn keeps his eyes peeled on the Wormwood watching for more, spotting weapons he warns the crew "As we come upon the ship watch for harpoons and javelins, they may make boarding a little more challenging than rotten fish and Shat!"
One of the crew members heaves what looks like a fist-sized glob of congealed grease at the jolly boat. With Wyn and Ollivor rowing (with some assistance from Doran and Vrunyar), the Wormwood is still some thirty or forty feet away when Tilly Bracken flings the slop at them. The distance and her terrible aim work together to ensure that the goopy mix splashes into the water a dozen yards away from the ship. The mocking laughter of the crew - at both her poor aim and the terrible fortunes of the group about to be covered in flith as they climb aboard - echoes over the waves to them.
Grunting with each pull, Vrunyar keeps his eyes focused on the stern of the boat. He hears the yells and clamor from the ship, the hard breathing of the other rowers, and Thorn’s warning about the harpoons.
The sweat pouring down his arms causes his palms to become too slick, and he losses control of his oar as first one and then his other hand fumble to regain a secure grip on the handle.
As Doran considers whether to help Vrunyar row them a bit closer or collect the grappling hook he had placed nearby, his dwarven friend slips clean off the oar. Well, that decides it, doesn't it?
In one smooth movement, Doran grips the loop of rope just before the eye of the grapnel and begins to spin it. Carefully gauging the distance, he speeds up his spin slightly and lets fly, nodding in satisfaction as the curved prongs of the hook set firmly on the rail of the ship. He pulls the rope taut and calls out, "That's one hook set. Get ready to board!"
"Thanks for the help, Doran."
Ollivor keeps trying to close the gap, struggling with the oars as the waters are stirred.
Thorn continues spinning his hook rapidly over the side of the boat watching the rowers struggle to pull the boat closer to their target. Thorn thinks to himself "I can help pull us in close once I latch on to the railing of the Wormwood, but I have got to do something about the "Narwhal" and his harpoon" After scanning the railing for the large nosed dwarf, Thorn takes aim for his nose saying to himself "I can bounce the hook off his nose and hopefully under the railing knocking out two birds with one stone." Thorn lets his hook fly towards the dwarf and
"HAZAA, Direct hit!" Thorn yells out in excitement. The hook smashes into the large nose and bounces under the railing of the ship. Tam Tate stumbles back, eyes watering he drops the harpoon grabbing at his nose with both hands cursing aloud. Thorn quickly pulls the slack in the line causing the hook to grab tight around the railing of the Wormwood.
Doran laughs aloud at Thorn's glorious shot with the grappling hook, a broad grin crossing his face as he thinks, We just might survive this, maybe even win it!. He sees his elven shipmate begin to haul on his line, and Doran does likewise, keeping the line stretched taut and trying to haul the boat towards the Wormwood as quickly as possible.
Thorn's perfectly-aimed throw is the first of several, as Wyn and the other rowers get them within an easy throwing range. The grappling hook thrown by the elf breaks the hook nose of Tam Tate, spewing the dwarf's blood onto the deck. The disruption allows Thorn and Doran to attach their hooks and drag the boat adjacent to the Wormwood. Maheem tries to lean over for a shot at them, but he can't make a good angle with the javelin and storms back onto the deck without throwing it. Thorn and Doran climb up the unknotted ropes easily as John and Ollivor throw the second pair. Soon, Wyn and Vrunyar add their own hooks onto the side of the Wormwood. The six crewmen scramble up the side, dodging the dropped and thrown detrius and sludge from the pirates. They climb over the rail, dragging themselves over quickly and efficiently. The last of them - Vrunyar - makes it over the side before even the first member of the other crew.
"Damn!" Conchobar shouts loudly, stamping his feet angrily. The little gnome brings out his coin purse and makes a show of handing over several coins to Jack Scrimshaw. Apparently, he placed a poor bet.
"Not bad for a bunch of p#$$*^s," mutters Krine. "Better than I expected. I heard that you lot pissed yourselves when you got boarded by those devil-f*^&ers. I expected more of the same here, but it turns out that they were the ones I should have worried about. Well, you lot can sit pretty for the rest of the day." As she finishes 'congratulating' them, Jayce Galligan pops his head over the side with a scowl, the first of his group. "These losers will be doing your work for the rest of the day." Jayce looks over with daggers in his eyes, dripping with sweat even with the chill winter wind.
"Get out of here, you lazy piss-ants. I catch any of you above-deck, you're going in the water with them," she threatens them while gesturing to the still-thrashing red-tinged water.
The six 'winners' of the exercise (no closer to Krine's approval) slowly shuffle down into the quiet crew hold. For a reward, it seems that they are no closer to freedom either.
Down below, Wyn finds a bucket of water to wash off the gunge that had splattered onto her--and makes sure there is stuff available for the others to clean themselves off as well.
"Well boys, looks like we work together pretty well at least don't we? What shall we discuss now?"
"A good question..." When they are alone, Ollivor uses magic to clean himself quickly. "My mind's stuck on putting a grappling hook through Krine's fat lip and dragging same down... so pick a new subject and I'll try to clear that out."
After cleaning up the mess that the crew rained down up them, Vrunyar reclines in his hammock. ”Can you teach me those chants? In case next time we’re split up and I’m in the boat with some of the others. I could teach you a tunnel song if you like. Unless you'd rather forget about the day's business. If that's the case let's play cards.”
John whispers to Doran, "Let's check for listeners. If we are clear, we can talk amongst ourselves." In the guise of looking for a set of playing cards, the group checks the crew hold for eavesdroppers. Ollivor uses his magic to check for the telltale signs of a scrying focus, finding nothing that concerns him. Once he's certain that they're clear, John beckons them into a corner and starts dealing out each of the six players a hand of five cards.
"We'll be playing Andoran-style poker," he explains perhaps a bit too loudly as he places two cards face-up in the center of the table. "Select two cards and put them face-down in front of you, then pass the rest and make your bets for the round. Then pick one of the three passed cards and pass the rest, then bet again. Two cards, bet, one card, bet. Best hand of seven cards wins. Got it?" Looking at nods all around, each checks their cards and passes along the rest.
John lowers his voice and looks at the others as they place their bets. "We need a plan about how to get free of this damned ship. Anyone have any ideas? What sort of opportunities should we be looking for?"
Doran looks about for anyone who might overhear him talking to his friends, carefully checking the decks immediately above and below, knowing that a knothole or open seam serves very well as a means of eavesdropping on what goes on in a neighboring deck. Once he's satisfied that their clever charade won't be undone by someone listening in, he sits down as John deals a hand of cards and explains the rules of the game.
As the hand proceeds, Doran says, "Well, a key thing is figuring out where we are. If we're just a couple of days from land, we could try taking one of the ship's boats and making a break for it some night, and row or sail to land - but it would depend where we end up making landfall. We could end up just as bad as we have it now, though that's hard to imagine."
"We first ran into the Wormwood right outside the Arch, and the chase lasted a couple of days of hard sailing. Based on our course, speed, and sailing time since then, I can tell you how far and what direction we've come, and approximately where that puts us - but I can't say exactly where we are. Anyone know the lay of the land south of the Arch well enough to fix our position?