"It would not hinder me," Aaron offers. "Light or no light, it matters little to my eyes."
He pauses for a moment to think, considering Doran's suggestions. "'A hell of a fighter'? Is that a compliment?" There is a soft chuckle before he continues. "I think his idea has merit. It should at least help us position ourselves a little better, without making things too complicated. Besides, if this... Plugg is as paranoid as you say, perhaps my presence will have him focus more on me, the new arrival, the unknown factor. A bit of a diversion, if you will."
To his surprise, Doran chuckles along with Aaron, though he's not sure quite what's so funny. "Yeah, that's what I had in mind, that comin' aboard with you might help distract Plugg even more. And that once the fighting starts, we'll want you at hand. Especially since we'll still have Scourge to sort out too."
Turning to his crewmates, he asks, "Well, what do you think? How can we tighten up this plan so it holds water?"
"Well, if you think it'll work, I'll go along," Ollivor says, "I've got no better idea of my own. I'm a sorcerer not a wizard, so blood over brains and all that."
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Pulling his sweat stained shirt over his head with a grimace, John Rawkins pushed himself back to his feet. He glanced down at the pool of spring water one final time before sighing. Today is going to be a long fething day. John thought to himself, rubbing at his chest absently. Standing at the edge of Aaron's pool, John looked past the palisade wall towards the eastern coast of the island. A real long day.
Turning his back to the pool, John moved back towards the cabin and opened the door, only to catch Sandra voicing her opinion. Leaning back on the edge of the wall, John crossed his arms and watched as the others voiced their reactions to her suggestion. Quietly John rubbed his chin. I think that waiting until night could work Doran, but it could also fail terribly. What if Plugg decides to sail early once you, Vrun and Ollivor are onboard? Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth in thought, John glances at Sandra before giving her a nod of support. I think Sandra might have the right of it. We have spent the last two weeks building support quietly among the crew. Hojo, Arutro, Jax and Rosie, along with Sandra and Crimson are all firmly in our corner. Owlbear and Conchobar could go either way or they might sit out and see who wins. The only ones by my count that would follow Plugg and Scourge are Shivikah, Aretta and Tam. Nodding again to himself and then more emphatically to the rest of the group, John's eyes turn hard. Excluding Plugg and Scourge, that's three versus six. Pretty good odds, leaving us six to deal with Plugg and his bastard brother.
Rubbing at his chest, John frowned. There's a sort of brutal honesty to announcing our intentions and personally, I'm tired of the lies. We have our weapons, our allies and the opportunity. Lets settle our quarrel on the shore and take our freedom.
Doran considers John's reply, and looks around at his friends. "I never suggested waiting 'til dark, John. And I can't say I'm opposed to the straight-up approach Sandara laid out. If that's what you all want to do, then I'll go with it. But I think we should try to get some surprise, at least on Plugg. What if you bring me back, with my hands convincingly tied? You tell Plugg I'm going to die with him and shove me over to him. Then when the fighting starts, I'll draw on him?" He pauses a moment, then continues with greater intensity in his voice, "That bastard Plugg trusts me, and I've been through hell to earn that trust, and I want to put it to use to be sure we make it through this, and he doesn't."
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Scratching at his red beard, John nods after a moment. Your right Doran. You have gone through hell to earn that trust. We can use it to our advantage and your idea with the ropes is a good one. Plugg would put his back to you without question. Walking over to the halfling, John nodded faintly in a reserved manner. I think that would work.
"Convincingly but not completely, might be the best of both worlds...and more," Ollivor realizes, "Truth is, he DID send you out with orders to kill some of us. Rest of the crew might side with us if they hear that's the sort of thing 'Captain' Plugg is willing to do to them. We'll see if we can rally them while we fight, and if we can't well, we make do. Hopefully he's still clueless about my magic. May give us a small edge."
"I have always been taught to take the fight to the enemy no matter what and SMASH, but this plan of deception sounds like fun and I can't wait to watch Plugg's face when he feels the prick of betrayal. Once Scourge has watched his brother fall I will hang him with his whip for all the lashes he gave out unsparingly."
The dwarf listens to their plans, as he sips his water. He nods as they center on a ruse using Doran.”Multiple angles for cutting this gem. HA! I like it. Reminds me of a plan Deep Oddogrym would come up with, well without the tunneling, chains, and pit traps. Wily but in a different way.”
Vrunyar rubs his stubbled head. ”How difficult will it be to get the ship off the reef? I ask thinking we might need the muscle of Plugg’s underlings. I leave that decision up to the more nautically knowledgable. Now, I might have mentioned using a mutagen to make him sick. I’m still willing to try that, but the one I brewed today will give me extra strength, coupled with an insight from a dream last night, and I’ll be as strong as an ogre for a few minutes. Might be a better use of my mutagen than what I originally planned.”
Doran nods as the conversation moves along, saying, "This is sounding good. The plan isn't over-complicated, but will hopefully give us an unexpected advantage, at least for a moment. And I'm with you, Thorn, it'll be a sweet moment when Plugg feels the bite of my blade and knows I've turned on him."
When Vrunyar offers his dwarven analogy for the party's plan, Doran nods along encouragingly at first, then a look of puzzlement creeps onto his face. "Tunneling? Pit traps? Oh, I see, both clever plans, got it." He smiles and says, "But let's keep the chains off me, eh? I don't swim so well wearin' a hundredweight of iron."
"As far as gettin' the ship afloat, I'd hope that even Plugg will have thought to get to work on that right away, and that maybe they've made some progress. And even if we have a smaller crew, wharpin' her off the reef is mostly a matter of leverage and know-how, not just muscle. But if you don't get to use your brew in the fight, I'm sure it'll come in handy gettin' the ship loaded and back on the water."
Sandara grins wickedly as they settle on a plan of betrayal. "Better get a move on, then. John, you want to put that wand of yours to good use? I've got Calistria's sweet sting at the ready, but I'd sooner exhaust myself in battle instead of here." She seems eager to flirt, as if it is a bit of normalcy to grab onto in a turbulent situation. "I'm sure we'll get some immediate takers, but a lot of the rest are going to want to bet on a winning hand. Me and Crimson'll corral the rest of the crew and convince those that can be convinced to wait before placing a bet while you lot show them why our team's got the upper hand."
The crew quickly gathers its gear, letting John use his wand to bolster their strength and vitality - except for Aaron, who declines the offer for the second time since they have met him. They get their armor and weapons together, as well as what little gear they have managed to assemble. They begin the long trek down the side of the cliff, bidding goodbye to Aaron's cabin and stockade. The morning is bright and sunny, with a breeze and warmth under clear blue skies and blue seas. They can see the ship still stranded on the reef in the distance, with the rest of the crew on the sandy beach east of the great stone fist.
The trip down the side of the mountain goes by quickly and easily. For most of the crew, they have some comfort in their fourth trip up or down the narrow path - but for Aaron, it has become countless. He guides them along the avenue that he could walk with his eyes closed, avoiding perils and traps alike.They reach the bottom quickly and without issue, turning north across the flat land between the cliffs and the shore. The breeze picks up as they move at a quick march up the pathway towards the jungle, keeping them invigorated.
They hit the jungle less than an hour after departing from Aaron's cabin. The Chelaxian sailor leads the way. He may have spent less time in the jungle than he did the rest of the island, but he still knows the secrets of this accursed island better than any man alive. He hears the telltale buzz of mosquitoes while they hike, getting the crew to stop and let them pass. He helps them avoid a croaking mated pair of giant frogs, as well as other dangerous fauna. His expertise allows them to cut through the jungle in half the time, making it to the base of the granite fist after only a few hours.
They ascend the stone outcropping, hitting the summit long before noon thanks to its more forgiving slope on the west face. The hard journey would have them tired, but the prospect of bringing justice to Plugg keeps them in good spirits and ample strength. From atop the fist, they can see the beach and the ship easily. The ship hangs pathetically on the reef, closer to broken than whole. It seems that they have managed to rig up a new mast from the local trees, though it is clearly a patch rather than a permanent mast. It looks like it might not sink immediately, if they can free it from the reef. Aaron spots the signal fire that he had rigged up two years earlier - one of several on the highest points of the island. The rest of them look down onto the beach, just beyond another stretch of jungle. The rest of their crew seems assembled on the beach, downing trees and cutting them into useful replacements for the ship's damaged parts. They can see Plugg, standing apart from the others and barking orders to them; nearby is Scourge, threatening someone with his whip. They are distant, but the betrayers have their prey in sight.
Ollivor is happy to follow Aaron's lead through the jungle. It finds it odd the Cheliaxian seems to brush aside healing especially before a fight and wonders if the man doesn't have some odd death wish after all. Still, he fought like the devil to get off this rock, so probably not. Anyway, it's hardly important. The young man lives in the moment, and so he brushes aside his curiosities about Aarron, his still lingering wisps of a dead man's psyche who visited him in a dream, and marches on.
When they hit the summit and look down on the beach and ship, his eyes narrow past the poor ship, ill treated by a cruel idiot who fancies himself a captain to Plugg himself and then to Scourge. Doran taught me to be a sailor... those two? They've only taught me how to hate. I will bloody well end them. But best to prepare for it.
He gauges the time he has before they get down there and if it will be less than an hour, he casts a spell, preparing himself for the upcoming battle. For a moment only his skin seems to be almost scaled, but while the scales are gone in an instant, the protection of the magic remains.
As he and the rest look down on the ship and its crew working away at the beach, Aaron takes a vial from his belt. There is a soft sigh escaping his lips as he takes a moment to look at it before opening it and drinking its contents, the same look of distaste visible on his face like before. Wiping his lips, he stretches his muscles a little as the wounds from the previous day heal a little bit more.
Before he and his companions come out of the jungle and in sight of the ship, Doran prepares for the ruse they've got planned. He looks down at his clothes, and filthy skin. He would have loved to wash up like the others, but judged that their trick would be more effective if he looked ill-treated - and after the last couple of days, he certainly fits that description. Even so, he tears his shirt in a couple of spots, and rubs a bit of dirt on his face to make himself look a bit bruised.
He then hands most of his gear to his friends, keeping only a few daggers. He's got two stored in his hidden wrist sheaths, and he tucks two more away carefully, where he'll be able to get at them in a hurry.
Doran then pulls out a scrap of rope he salvaged from Aaron's compound and calls to John, "Here, Rawkins, give me hand with this, would ye? I'm thinkin' we'll wrap it good an' tight around my wrists, and you can dummy up a good sheet bend, but we'll leave it slipped so I can just give a tug with the end in my hand and it'll drop right off.
"I'm going to tell Plugg I tried to get the drop on John, Thorn and Wyn but failed," Doran offers. "I'll say I killed Wyn - as hard as that'll be to say, we should use her absence in our tale - but you guys spotted me before I could get a knife into you. You brought me back 'cuz ye wanted to enjoy killin' me and Plugg both."
He pauses and looks up at his companions, then adds, "Ye might think a moment on how Aaron will fit into the tale ye're telling, though the truth might just work. 'Course, all of this assumes there'll be any talkin' at all."
”Are you going to keep that vial?” Vrunyar asks Aaron after the man drinks his potion. ”The scarcity I experienced in school with supplies is insignificant compared to the scarcity on board the ship. Hoard, reuse, reuse, and reuse. Ha!”
Vrunyar watches the rope being tied, impressed with the creativity and spatial geometry of knots. ”Yeah, if we get to talking, let’s keep it simple. We stumbled across Aaron exploring the island.” He takes his battleaxe from its leather sheathe. Catching the sunlight on its edge, he looks at the keen edge. The dwarf then arranges the vials to make sure he knows where each one is.
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As Aaron led the group pass the unmarked and unnoticeable hazards with a skill built from years of surviving alone, to John felt a growing sense of respect for the man. It was one thing to live on ones own. It was something entirely else to have done so on an island populated by unnatural creatures, dangerous swarms and hostile predators. The way the man moved with sure, quick steps, pointing out traps that he had laid or signal fires he had prepared. It all made John's sense of appreciation for the mans skill and survival increase. Being trapped, alone on Bonewrack Island must have been a crucible for the man. It bothered John. All of his life he had been been raised with an inherent distrust for the Chelish people. Never mind the fact that Andor had been a breakaway colony from the once mighty nation. Thinking back to what John had told Aaron during their first meeting, about how the only Chel's that he had ever met had tried to swindle or stab him, John frowned. Until this point the only pirates John had met had been those on the other end of his Falchion. And yet, in the short span that John had been on the Wormwood and later the Man's Promise, he had met good people. Sandra, Rosie, Crimson and even Grok had all been kind to him. This confused him and bothered him. In some part of John's brain he knew there could be men and women with a code of honor among the free captains, but he also knew that Plugg was not one of them.
As Doran handed John the rope, he listened thoughtfully before following the halflings directions. The two took their time with the sheet bend, making sure that it would slip when pulled. After a few moments of careful study, John nodded. I think that will work. It looks good mate.
Listening to Doran's plan, John kept one ear on the halfling while his eyes looked down on the shore towards Plugg who was standing apart from the others and barking orders to them while his brother Scourge, threatened and cajoled the crew with his whip. Gritting his teeth as he looked down on Plugg, John's gaze swept past the man and over the Man's Promise. Coulden't even float her off the reef. Some captain you are. John mumbled before turning his gaze back towards Doran. I agree Doran. It galls me that you would have to take credit for Wyn's death, but we can set that straight with the crew after this bad business is done. I'm not good at spinning a yarn. I can browbeat someone or turn their point of view, but I can't lie to save my life. I think the rope and my anger at Plugg mixed with a good dose of truth should be enough to get you close though.
Turning to the others, John nods fiercely. We have all been through a crucible together. Hurricanes, battles with the Chelish Navy, the boarding of the Man's Promise and the rescue of Sandra and Crimson from the Makaru. Since the beginning we have watched out for each other as true shipmates. But before we go down there and do what must be done, I want you to all know this. When the blades are drawn there should be in no doubt in Pluggs mind that we are his Nemesis and that we are bringing about his rightful destruction. Plugg and Scourge have stains on their souls and they are stoking the fires of Hell at this very moment in preparation for this moment. As they die they will know their deeds have brought them to this place. Show them no pity.
Pointing towards Scourge who holds his whip on high John's gaze grows long. We are going down there to liberate, for both our freedom and for the freedom of the slaves aboard the Man's Promise. Eyes growing hard, John nods, looking at each member of the group in the eye. Look to each of your shipmates and watch each other's back. Hold fast and remain strong. Let us claim our freedom and end this!
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As the others talk of their plan, Aaron takes this time to study the two men responsible for his new allies' plight, absentmindedly handing Vrunyar the now empty vial as he does so. "You and Doran seem quite intent on taking care of this Plugg as soon as possible, John," he states, his eyes still on their targets. "Should I keep the equally unfortunately named Scourge occupied then? Or should we all focus on the same target, disposing one as quickly as possible before turning on the other?"
The Chelaxian turns to look at the peg-legged Taldan, his golden eyes looking into the other man's. "What I am asking, John, is who is going to be my prey." He smiles a thin little smile before correcting himself. "That is, my target."
John gave a good speech. Ollivor found himself quite moved by it. Rawkins had endured much on their behalf, and Ollivor would never forget it...
As the others talk of their plan, Aaron takes this time to study the two men responsible for his new allies' plight, absentmindedly handing Vrunyar the now empty vial as he does so. "You and Doran seem quite intent on taking care of this Plugg as soon as possible, John," he states, his eyes still on their targets. "Should I keep the equally unfortunately named Scourge occupied then? Or should we all focus on the same target, disposing one as quickly as possible before turning on the other?"
The Chelaxian turns to look at the peg-legged Taldan, his golden eyes looking into the other man's. "What I am asking, John, is who is going to be my prey." He smiles a thin little smile before correcting himself. "That is, my target."
"Aaron's got a point," Ollivor finds himself nodding, "Figured I'd send a quick spell to occupy any who side with the two...Narwhal or the like, but Scourge ain't exactly going to sit still while we pound on Plugg."
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Looking back into Aaron's golden eyes John studied the chell for a moment before breaking the man's gaze and looking down towards the shore. It's upto you Aaron. I expect the plan to only last as long as the first shot is fired, but I've spent some time thinking about those two, so I'll tell you my thoughts. Frowning softly, John points to his peg. Following the battle with the Hellsmouth, I'm sure you all remember our introduction to Plugg and his brother, Scourge. As if to accompany the man's name the sound of a whip cracking rings out over the beach. I've watched both of them. I've felt Scourge's whip. The man know's how to make it move like a snake and pull like an ox. They are also brothers. I wouldn't be surprise if they have practiced fighting together as a team. I know that Plugg favors his rapier too.. and he has Iakob's pistol. Regardless, when the fight starts, I'm going right for Plugg and I expect that he will focus on me... the line in the sand was drawn between us the moment he murdered my friend. Face solemn, John thinks back for a moment to the dream he had the night before. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath out before opening them and gazing at the castaway of Bonewrack Island. Aaron, you're a free man and you may do as you like, I can only speak for what I will do, but if you can keep Scourge off of me, I would appreciate it.
As Ollivor chimes in with his intent, John grins at the man. Aye, you have the right of it mate. As for the others, Narwhal and the like.. if they do jump in, i'll appreciate anything you can do to keep them busy. Loosening his cutlass from its sheath and giving it a few cursory swings to loosen up his arm, John nods with a finality before jamming it back in his scabbard with a forceful shove. Easy John... The marine thought, taking a deep breath in. Breathing the lungful of air out slowly, John drew his falchion, before turning towards Doran who's hands appeared at first glance appeared wrapped in thick loops of rope. Right then, if everyone's ready, lets go take our freedom back.
Doran looks carefully at all his friends, even giving Aaron a nod of appreciation for what he's about to do. He takes a last look at the ropes around his wrists and says determinedly, "Right, John. Freedom." He slumps his shoulders and affects a bit of a limp, to make their tale all the more believeable, and with a grim smile he quietly adds, "And just a touch of revenge, eh?"
Ollivor gives a rather grim smile,, "No reason we can't have both. Let's get going. This has been a long time coming."
The descent from the granite fist seems to take no time at all, especially compared to the challenges of the previous day and the violent vengeance that awaits them at the beach. As they reach the bottom of the rock, they press forward into the jungle to cut through it as quickly as they can. They follow the same narrow path that brought them to the rock, stepping lightly where they can. It is a short distance, though the difficult terrain makes it take considerably longer than it would walking along the plains. Nothing will distract them from their goal - not the steamy mist that still lingers over the jungle nor the buzz of insects and animals.
After a quarter-mile along the winding path, the jungle gives way to the beach. The white sand seems to glow under the sun as they peek out from the palm trees. Looking at one another one final time to confirm that they are ready, the mutineers step forward to execute the plan. At the end of the hundred-foot beach, their targets stand around amidst the crew they hope to rally into mutiny. Rickard Plugg and his brother, Master Scourge, meander about the crew as they work in the sun. It seems that the majority of the crew are working on the beach, cutting trees with tools. They look for their allies, but don't see Hojo, Jax, or Arutro; they are either back on the ship (likely using Hojo's skill at carpentry to fix the mast) or Plugg already had them killed. The bareness of the long beach make it nearly impossible for them to sneak up on them, but that isn't the plan.
John steps forward into the sand, letting his peg slide into the sand. He pulls on the rope that loosely binds Doran, letting the illusion of captivity take hold. The mutineers step forward, savoring the moment of betrayal. They walk united towards Plugg and Scourge, slowly getting the attention of the workers. The rest of the crew stops working and starts staring at the group as they walk up to the beach. A good fifty feet away, John lays the gauntlet down. "PLUGG! YOU SON OF A B!~+~! TIME TO SETTLE OUR QUARREL, NOW THAT WE'RE ON SHORE!"
Plugg and Scourge immediately snap to attention, gauging the unseen threat. Both immediately draw their weapons - the rapier for Plugg and the whip for Scourge. Plugg leaves his stolen pistol in his waistband. He shouts back in his sneering Chelaxian accent. "What have we here, brother?" It's clear that he's speaking to the crew, not Scourge. For his part, the mute simply shrugs. "Looks like the Andoran's decided to set up shop as a mutineer, and his friends as well! I'll see you keelhauled for this, and not once. I won't stop until nothing remains but little scraps of flesh for the sharks to fight over!"
Just as Plugg finishes speaking, Doran gives the rope John is holding a sharp pull, yanking it from the ranger’s hand and darting across the beach. ”Cap’n Plugg, I tried!” he cries as he runs across the hot sand, his bound hands before him. ” I tried to take ‘em by surprise and finish ‘em off, but they caught me.” He runs several more paces, looking over his shoulder as if he fears that John will light off after him. As he gets closer to Plugg, he says, ”I killed the big-boned b!#@ch, did her good, but you know how a woman screams when you stick her! They heard her and nabbed me. Said they’d kill me right here along with you!”
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Stomping through the sand towards Plugg, John watched as Doran convincingly managed to escape towards the pair of murderous brothers. Inwardly John smiled. He remembered the last words that Doran had spoken to him..
::Doran looks carefully at all his friends, even giving Aaron a nod of appreciation for what he's about to do. He takes a last look at the ropes around his wrists and says determinedly, "Right, John. Freedom." He slumps his shoulders and affects a bit of a limp, to make their tale all the more believable, and with a grim smile he quietly adds, "And just a touch of revenge, eh?"::
Watching Doran run towards the pair, John knew the man was right, though it cost him something to admit it. The truth was supposed to set you free. Feth it! John thought. At least he will know it's coming. That's more of a chance then he ever gave Iakob! John thought to himself with a finality.
Continuing his slow trudge towards Plugg, John leveled his falchion towards the man. No Rickard! A mutiny requires you to have authority over us. We signed no articles, had no choice or were given any share of a prize. Strong and firm in his belief John's stride quickens despite the sand and the other members of Sandra and Crimson's rescue party follow behind like a flock of birds flying south for the winter. You call yourself a Captain, yet what have you done? You abandoned Sandra and Crimson to their fates. You ignored your responsibilities during the storm, tried to have Doran kill us and you murdered my friend Iakob in cold blood.
Stopping thirty feet from Plugg, John slashed his falchion into the sand before addressing the rest of the gathered pirates. John bellowed to the pirates. Those who do not choose a side, I will not hold a grudge against, though I promise you that Plugg would not offer you the same choice. My quarrel is with Rickard and his brother. However! Thoses of you who choose to side with Plugg will be shown no quarter.
Voice growing hard and cold, John nods with a finality at the man. When you killed Iakob, I swore an oath. I swore to the gods that one day, I would have you on your knees and as I held Iakob's pistol to your head you would know my rage. Voice growing solem, John looks past his nemesis out to the waters beyond. One final thing remained.
Breathing in and out deeply, John touched upon the rage that beat in his heart. Staring at Plugg the anger that John had let build up for so long threatened to overwhelm him. The weeks after Iakob's death had tempered that anger, cooled it, hardened it. It had strengthed him and bound him to something greater. Nodding to himself, John's free hand clenched into as fist as if he were seizing a free flying reefing line. John roared, reaching and clutching for the same surging power he had touched before before. Like a surging tide, John found it deep inside of his own anger. He grasped for it. Besmara was not one who gave. Conflict, strife and piracy were her domains. She did not abide beggars or the weak. No, it was the strong who held her attention. It was the Captain who who would curse her name as he sailed into a storm, never looking back. It was the Marine who fought a bloody battle on the deck of a ship even when hope seemed lost and refused to quit. It was the oarsman who despite years of being lashed daily, still planned his revenge with each beat of his heart. This was her congregation. The cries of vengeance and the screams for freedom upon the seas were her choir. John did not beg. He .
The beach grew quiet. For just a heartbeat it seemed as if the tide had paused. Then it resumed again... only this time it was the color of blood. So be it. John said, eyeing the crimson tide with wary eyes. So fething be it. John Rawkins whispered hefting the falchion in both hands as he broke into a final charge towards Rickard Plugg and his mute brother.
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As Doran breaks free and John makes public his oath of vengeance, Plugg and Scourge step forward. Several of the crewmen step forward with them - Aretta, Tam Tate, and Shivikah all instantly join them. The tall slaver and the hook-nosed dwarf have been waiting for the opportunity to kill the Andorans for some time, and Aretta seems to hold no affection for any of them. Over on the other side of the crowd, Rosie Cusswell starts making a circuitous route towards the line drawn in the sand, while Conchobar Shortstone seems unable to decide. The rest of the crew (mostly the new 'freed' slaves, but a few other transplants from the Wormwood) seems to be joining Conchbar in indecision. "He's right about one thing," Plugg shouts to them. "If you're not with me, you won't be leaving this beach!" The crew begins to sort themselves into two groups, defending Plugg or joining the mutineers. Conchobar is the last to join a group - but he steps up with Rosie to aid against Plugg.
As John prays to Besmara, Plugg responds to the accusations. "You've been a thorn in my side since the day we showed you mercy. What use do we have for a gimp? I should have thrown the lot of you overboard. Doran's the only one from your ship worth spit. And who the hell is that?" He points his rapier at Aaron.
Ollivor circles a bit himself, walking along as others do the talking. He notes each and every choice made by those who take sides. Aretta, Tam Tate, and Shivikah move up the quickest, and it's little surprise to him. His own round about path may cause some to think he's actually going to join them in their support of Plugg and Scourge, and why not? The cook is on just about everyone's side... some wouldn't consider him a proper sailor despite the training Doran gave him.
While he's tempted to bluff, Ollivor realizes that pretending to join in with Plugg and Scourge at this point might just tip more of the new crew in favor, not that the cook is so loved, so much as sheer numbers. Instead, he speaks not to Plugg and Scourge of revenge due, for John's done that fine, but to those undecided, or just barely decided for the status quo.
"So that's to be it then?" The cook looks them over, "Some of you willing to throw in with a man who murders the wounded or sick rather than let them recover? Or ignores the storm to sleep like a fool and pert near get us all killed? A man who's willing to have those that flee him flayed alive, but those crew taken...well, they're not his concern? Gods help you if it's ever you in such situations... and if you don't rise with us now, and we lose, it will be. Some of you recently took slave chains off, but slaves you are still if you bend to the lash of Scourge and the strikes of Plugg. Sure as if your necks were still collared. Tain't too late to turn , stop being slaves, and make yourselves into sailors. Or if sailing ain't for you, at least men who'll be ALLOWED to leave ship when we hit a proper port. Or you can line up to die for the same filth that holds the rod and whip over your heads every morning and ever eve, with even your dreams haunted by the fear of him that keeps you tied down. I say, tis Better to die free than live slaves one moment longer!"
"Any man that joins them will share their fate!" Plugg shouts out his threat, but it's clear that a few of the newly-freed slaves have second thoughts about helping Plugg put down the mutiny. A few of them change sides, leaving the mutineers with a slight numerical advantage. Meanwhile, the red tide is beginning to come in.
Aaron
Doran
John
Ollivor
Plugg
Scourge
Thorn
Vrunyar
As soon as John unleashes his shouting charge, Plugg sprints forward. He meets John mid-charge and plunges his rapier into the mutineer's stomach. He sneers at John, hoping to demoralize him with the ease in which he struck him - but the man's fury is too much. Without missing a step, Plugg turns in a spray of sand and darts a dozen feet away to force them to come to him. It doesn't seem like his rapier hurt John at first, but then John feels a lot of blood flowing fast out of the wound. "Well," Plugg retorts, "let's see what you've got."
As he attacks, the two groups that the crew has sorted into attack one another. They attack with what they have - weapons, tools, or fists - trying to gain the upper hand. Sandara and Crimson rush into the mix as well, keeping any of Plugg's supporters from joining him and Scourge against the mutiny. Owlbear howls in distress during the fighting, balling up his fists in terror and worry.
Doran moves up behind Plugg, pretending to struggle to loosen the ropes and saying, "Right behind ya, cap'n, and I'm loose. Fools can't even tie a knot! I'll watch yer back, you put 'em down! As he gets within a few feet of Plugg, he drops the loosened ropes to the sand.
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The tip of Plugg's rapier slid through John's thin abdominal lining and into the intestines beyond. It burned as it entered, searing and quick like a ripping pain. John howled as he clapped his hand to his stomach. It came away red, like the color of the sea. Each breath hurt as the Marines stomach clenched in waves of pain. John knew that the wound was bad, but just how bad he was unsure.
Howling in pain John lurched forward towards Plugg. All thoughts of defense lay by the wayside. Plugg's first strike had proved to John that numbers alone might not be enough. The battle had to be settled here and now before his brother could join in. Raising his falchion above his head, John kicked up a spray of sand as he charged towards the glowering pirate that had murdered his best friend. He could see Doran behind Plugg. John knew that he needed to draw the man's attention.
With a final bellowing yell, John collided with Plugg. His falchion swept down in a powerful two-handed strike fueled by the weeks of anguish, rage and hate that John had found each day among the bilges and each night in his dreams. Cleaving through Plugg's parry, the Katapeshi forged bladed hacked into Pluggs shoulder in a spray of blood. I've dreamed of this moment Plugg! John cried out, the blood of the two flowing freely onto the sand. Every day and every night. I carried that rage and let it fuel me, strengthen me... All for this moment!
As John and then Ollivor initiate the confrontation, Vrunyar drinks his first Bull’s strength extract. Combined with the mutagen he drank as they approached, he feels stronger than he’s ever felt before. He raises his battleaxe over his head with one arm and bellows something in
*17th-cousin is an approximation of the dwarven concept that all dwarves ultimately belong to the same family if you go back in time far enough.
The dwarf hurries towards Plugg, kicking up sand with each step. He is curious how his greater strength will affect him in battle. ”Hide all you want Doran. You’re next!” he snarls in a deeper voice than normal.
He saw the pirate’s quick reflexes and doesn’t want to try anything fancy. Vrunyar swings his axe using one of the first stances dwarves are taught for fighting orcs and goblins. It works better than he hoped, at first, but Plugg is able to twist and parry the axe so it slams into the beach with a spray of sand and Plugg’s spittle from his laugh. The man slashes Vrunyar in the hip.
"Too bad you're not as smart as Tam," the captain of the Man's Promise mocks.
So Plugg has 4/6 AoO and 2/4 panache points.
Ollivor shakes his head as his own plan to scare or color spray the crew supporting Plugg and Scourge are shot all to hell by well meaning members of their side. Blast those well meaning idiots. Ah well, guess I'll resort to the tried and true.
Ollivor is no swordsman, but neither is he blind to the fact that Plugg clearly is. It would seem to cross blades with the man is to invite a slash that could sever most folk in half. John had traded a blow almost as vicious, but tit-for-tat might not have winning results, so best to cheat.
"Two surprises for you, Plugg... one? I took a fair leak in more than one of your meals before it was served to you," Ollivor says with a smile. It's a lie, o course, Ollivor just wants to throw the man off his game a bit. But by the gods, he was tempted more than once to do so.
"Second surprise is..." He gestures and gives a hiss, and two bolts of energy dance from his finger tips and plunge into Plugg's flesh, twin wounds burst open. They may not be as deep as the sorcerer would like, but they at least hurt the man, And Heavens help me, it feels GOOD to see him hurt!
"That was for Iakob. The next will be for Wyn. After that? Every drop of blood I manage to squeeze out of you will be for me."
Thorn stood a few paces back from the rest of his party as John and Plugg attempted to sway the rest of the crew to join their cause. With his long bow in hand and arrow at the ready Thorn kept a ready position waiting for the combat to begin. As Thorn continued to scan the crew he paused on Scourge momentarily before stopping his gaze on Plugg. "Coward" Thorn said to himself as he looked him over quickly for any holes in his armor. Before Thorn could react Plugg made the first move and struck John like lightning flashing across the sky. Plugg's attack struck deep before John could return the blow. Thorn raised his bow quickly as the arrows shaft meet Thorn's eye level. Vrunyar entered his line of sight swing violently at Plugg. Plugg's cat like reflexes avoided the wild attack and he returns the favor giving Vrunyar a wound to remember. Thorn aim now came to the point of the arrow head and soon focused on Plugg. Plugg's quick attack left Thorn with the opportunity and opening he was looking for.
The memory of Plugg walking along the deck of the Wormwood with a wicked smile on his face just moments after murdering Iakob flashed in his mind. Pure anger and rage boiled in Thorn as he Yelled out "PLUUUGGG, It's time you die. This is for Iakob you piece of Sh!t!" Everything in Thorn's line of sight blurred out of focus except for the carotid artery pulsing in Plugg's neck. Thorn let loose the arrow and watched as his arrow pierce through Plugg's neck leaving the arrow stuck in his neck. Thorn could see the arrow head protruding from the back of Plugg's neck and the fletching still exposed from the front of his neck. Thorn quickly released another arrow before his opening closed and struck Plugg in his upper left chest piercing his heart with the second arrow and killing Plugg instantly. Plugg's body fell back face up with one arrow protruding from his chest and the other from his neck as he laid looking up at Doran. Plugg's eyes and mouth remained wide open showing a face of shock and fear just before his death while blood began to soaked the sand red.
As agreed, just as he has been doing during their approach, Aaron focuses on Scourge in an attempt to keep the man busy while the majority of the others attack his brother. Without speaking a single word, the Chelaxian follows John's example and charges into the fray, closing the distance with the whip-wielding pirate and bringing one of his swords down, slicing his foe's flesh open near the neck and shattering his left clavicle. Despite having never met his opponent before, the successful strike brings a smile to his lips. No, not a smile, but rather a predatory grin, wide enough to expose his sharp elongated incisors to the man now facing him.
Plugg drops to the sand with a pair of arrows buried in his body, mortally wounded by the arrows and by John's heavy blow and Ollivor's force missile. He wheezes in pain, not believing that Thorn hit him so easily. He reaches for the arrow in his neck, trying to pull it out as the blood pumps out of the wound and spreads over the sand. He tugs at it once, then twice, then reaches for the pistol in his waistband. Finally, he slumps and lays still at John's feet, hand still on the grip of Iakob's firearm.
Scourge gasps as he sees his brother fall. Just a moment later, Aaron lunges at him with an expert strike. He grimaces and takes a step back in the sand. He snaps the whip forward, snatching Aaron by the ankle and pulling him off balance. As he hits the ground, Master Scourge snaps the whip a second time and grabs one of the swords that Aaron uses. The Chelaxian pulls back, trying to maintain hold of it - but Scourge's talent with a whip is unparalleled. The tip of the whip is wrapped around his hand, pulling it backwards and forcing the sword out of his hand. Aaron pulls backwards hard, only to find that his grip is broken and the sword has gone sailing backwards. It lands in the sand a good fifteen feet behind him. From his back, he looks up at Scourge, who points at a figure farther down the beach.
"OWLBEAR!" Scourge's voice is a ragged moan, clearly finding it difficult to form words. The voice is at once high and scraping along the throat. "YOU COWARD!" The muscle-bound simpleton snaps to immediately, clearly terrified beyond reason or sanity. He rushes forward to defend a man who has tortured him to the point of having no ability to refuse. Owlbear bellows as he rushes into the melee, having no armor or weapons beyond his own powerful build and body.
Doran looks down at Plugg’s fallen body, the desire to drive a blade into him warring with his need to keep Scourge fooled about his allegiance. He shakes his head and calls out, ”Scourge, we need to kill them!” He then runs across the sand to stand by Scourge.
Scourge acknowledges Doran with a nod of acceptance and a second nod towards Aaron, as if making the suggestion that Doran should bring his knives down upon the prone swordsman.
Finding himself on the sand and bereft of one of his weapons, Aaron notes the powerfully built man with the frightened expression and then eyes Scourge warily, holding his remaining sword in front of him in a defensive manner. As soon as Doran apparently joins the pirate with the whip, the swordsman affords the halfling the same cautious look before slowly and carefully getting up, his eyes on both of them for any incoming attacks. Once back on his feet, he takes a single step to bring himself closer to his other blade. 'Yes,' he thinks to himself as he does so, 'keep your eyes on me...'
Scourge snaps his whip at Aaron as he climbs to his feet, trying to snatch away his other sword. Aaron deftly twists his wrist so that the whip cannot get the same level of purchase. The whip nearly tears away the sword, but he keeps the grip of the weapon in his hand. As Scourge pulls the whip back, the short sword does not follow.
Thorn watches with a since of calm as Plugg struggles to hold on to what little life he has left until the final breath escapes his body. Thorn walked up to Plugg and spit on his body in show of continued disgust of the man. Thorns had his attention quickly pulled away by the loud roar of "OWLBEAR!". Thorn looked towards Scourge and could see Aaron in a prone position and one of his swords disarmed in the sand behind him. "YOU COWARD!" soon followed from Scourge as Owlbear came rushing to his masters aid along with Doran joining Scourge by his side. Thorn watched as Aaron quickly rose to his feet only to be attacked by Scourge's whip once more. Scourge attempted to disarm Aaron's final weapon from Aaron's grasp but failed in doing so this time. Thorn dashed up the beach to get a clear shot at Scourge as he removed another arrow from his quiver. The of the whip reminded Thorn of his many year forced into slavery and forced to pull an oar. The anger boiled over once more as Thorn could feel the pain on his back at the sound of the whips crack. Thorn stopped and took aim raising the bow and pulling back the fletching to his right cheek. The "Thump" of his bow string was soon followed by the "Thump" of his arrow striking Scourge square in the sternum. The sound made from his bow string resonated like music in his ears.
Scourge points at Thorn as the elf buries an arrow in his chest. His attention is clearly focused on the man who killed his brother, and he wants Owlbear's to be as well. The brute bounds forward, animated by rage and terror, and collides with Thorn. He may have no ability to resist Scourge's grip over his mind, but he certainly has strength in spades. His attack carries no sophistication or subtlety - just pure rage and strength. The impact nearly knocks Thorn off his feet, leaving bruised bone and muscle where Owlbear hit him in the chest. Owlbear makes little to no effort to defend himself, bringing his hands up for a feral attack that holds nothing back.
"Owlbear, don't!" Ollivor is horrified, and steps forward just a bit trying to reason with the big man, "Please, listen, Scourge is a bad man and he's using you. We're trying to stop him from hurting you..." But his words are wind, and Owlbear pays them no mind.
"It's no good, he's driven too wild by fear to listen to any one else," The sorcerer tells the others, "I'm begging you all please, don't kill him unless you must to save your life."
He turns his attention to Owlbear, "I'm sorry about this, Owlbear." And the young cooks eyes go positively draconic, and he roars at Owlbear in a voice not unlike a true dragon's. It's actually chilling.
Owlbear hears the roar, and while his fear of Scourge does not vanish, it is overwhelmed by an older more primal fear that lurks in the blood of all men, be they simple or clever. The bigman's face goes pale, and he actually whimpers, "bizkit?" before turning, hoping to run away from the piercing fear that still rings in his ears and mind as an echoing roar!
A frightened creature flees from the source of its fear as best it can. If unable to flee, it may fight. A frightened creature takes a –2 penalty on all attack rolls, saving throws, skill checks, and ability checks. A frightened creature can use special abilities, including spells, to flee; indeed, the creature must use such means if they are the only way to escape.Frightened is like shaken, except that the creature must flee if possible.
As for Ollivor himself? For once he takes no joy in the release of his magic. Rather, he turns eyes full of bitter hate towards Scourge for what the master of lashes has driven him to do.
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John's blood ran down his side mixing into the sand. It mixed with Plugg's blood. The man lay dying at his feet. Thorn's arrows had struck solid and true. Plugg wheezed, clutching at the arrow in his neck while his other hand reached for Iakob's pistol. John grimaced and bit down on his teeth. As a soldier, John knew that he needed to focus on the battle at hand, not the vengeance that his heart-longed for and the desire he had prayed to Besmara for. As a man however, John wanted to snatch up his dear friends pistol and end Plugg. In the back of his head a cruel whisper arose to the surface. He had the reclaimed wand. John had the power. He could save Plugg. He could save the man.. only to look him in the eye as he killed him.
John's hand twitched.
To his left, the ex-marine heard a bestial roar like something out of a nightmare. John had to decide. His hand twitched again. His friends were still in danger.
John roared, snatching up Iakob's pistol from the weak and failing grip of Plugg. Tearing it from the man's hands, Plugg groaned in pain, rolling weakly on the ground. John didn't care about the man's pain. If the gods were just this would only be a second in the eternity of suffering that the man was due.
Running towards Scourge, John glanced back at Plugg and then towards Scourge, John leveled the pistol at the mute, whip wielding man. John cried, sighting the man with his friends pistol. Rickard took my brother in arms. Now we have taken yours. Give up! Throw down your weapon and I will see you marooned on this island. It is a better fate then you deserve. Continue to fight and join your brother in hell! This is your only chance!