With a sudden burst of excitement from the power of the storm, Burian hustles over to the unreefed sail, and gets to work.
He yells out as he's blasted by water and wind "So our offering's garnered no love from you, Besmara?!", and flashes a gallows grin to the darkened sky.
prof sailor: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15
Oops, sorry Sunny, it looked like you were just doing that instead of theorizing. I am retconning the crew penalty.
Is all okeys! (^_^)
With a look over the folks manning the wheel,
Profession Sailor:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23
Profession Captain:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29
"Keep her bow in't wind!" She calls, "As best ye can!" Indicating the heading to maintain/keep.
Before scampering up the lines to help Burian with the reasatrant sail.
Climb:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Profession Sailor:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23(Aid another)
"I'd a jus' cut it free!" Sunny calls over the raging winds. "We can al'a ways be gettin' 'nuther one out'a stores."
Yay! I is helpin'! (^_^)
Bouncing through the rigging like a squirrel, Sunny manages to reef her Maintopsail without any problem. Burian has more difficulty with his foretopsail, but also manages to reef his as well. The rest of the partners are forced to cut away their sails before they could carry the ship over.
Now comes the grim feat of endurance for the ship to survive the storm.
The ships captain (or designated helmsman) must make a Profession:Sailor DC20 check for each 8 hour shift. The ships partners can make Profession:Sailor checks to Aid Another in order to help.
This is exhausting work. For each 8 hour shift working, you have to rest 8 hours after.
This storm will last 33 hours.
First Shift: Eight hours
Captain:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14
Profession sailor:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
Diplomacy:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14
Intimidate:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14
Eight hours rest.
Fort Save:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11
Second Shift: Eight hours
Captain:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19
Profession sailor:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Diplomacy:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15
Intimidate:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10
Eight hours rest.
Fort Save:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21
Sunny works hard through the first shift. Calling commands, helping where she can, instructing others where she is able.
Come the end of her shift she drags her wet self below for some attempts at rest but the rocking and jolting of the ship through the tumultuous seas does not do her rest any good.
Come her second shift. Her attitude is dimmer than her usual self though she still manages to pull her weight in carrying out her duties.
Retiring for the second time the lessening winds find her back to her normal bright, bouncy naturally tanned self.
Only a couple a helpin' hand type rolls needed ta' be gettin' them numbers over tha' line. Sunny be right naffy with all'a this sailin' type stuffs!
Someone should really do something. Bryson's gonna be alright no matter what. Its the rest of you that could have a problem."
In the end, Marius wound up simply staying out of the way and avoiding being a burden on the crew. For all that he'd spent a lot of time shipboard, he simply wasn't versed in sailing, particularly under such circumstances.
Show him an enemy and he would happily fight it, but the battle between nature's wrath and the ship was simply beyond him.
Burian offers to take the wheel for a shift while Sunny sleeps.
When she returns... "Yes.. the storm is still raging. I hope you've had enough rest... I can't imagine eight hours taking away this soreness and blistered hands."
profession sailor: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
any others able?
Burian offers to take the wheel for a shift while Sunny sleeps.When she returns... "Yes.. the storm is still raging. I hope you've had enough rest... I can't imagine eight hours taking away this soreness and blistered hands."
any others able?
Based off the old, imporper rolls. Again, very sorry for that.
Sunny waves and smiles to Burian in repsonce as she returns to helping keep the ship as steady/safe as she can.
With her exceptional skill, Ghirrak designates Sunny to take the helm through the storm, working to motivate the crew and keep things together, having Burian take over while she rests.
Profession Sailor (Aid): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Heh...high Wisdom makes up for only 1 rank...learns quickly
Burian wakes after his rest still sore, but after a good half hour of moving around, he is ready to take over again. He actually woke early, but remained.. trying to piece together a half-remembered dream. The crew - the charmed sailors aboard the witches' vessel he'd been born upon - were often in his dreams. Not surprisingly this time it was during a violent storm. Those were times the witches were silent.. for fear their commands would betray the actions the sailors knew were right to survive. The will to live could break the spell cast upon them. Normally made subservient and pitiable, the storms - in a way - made them men he admired. Most of them now dead, he called upon their spirits to aid him.
"I'll take the wheel again, Sunny.. Captain. Get some rest."
profession sailor + guidance: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 6 + 1 = 27
Hour after endless hour the typhoon raged on...
Without sails, the sea anchor is thrown out and with its drag some amount of yaw control is available. It is only by the grim determination of the navigator and helmsmen that each towering wave is met bow on, and the ship remains upright.
The spray is almost level across the deck, and it is impossible to see fine detail. The roar of the winds is not loud enough to prevent you from hearing the ominous creaking of the hull and the crack and crash of spars and masts shattering under the forces they weren't meant to carry. Sometimes the waves surge across the deck to such depth that it looks like you're standing on two islands in the ocean.
As one team tires and retires below for what sleep they can get, another team takes over and endures their shift. And then the next, and then the next...
It is some time before you slowly wake out of a dead exhaustion. Something is wrong.
There are no howling winds, or pitching deck. The deck under the skin of your cheek is almost blood warm, and despite your clothing being half shredded, you are in no danger of being chilled. The deck is still damp, and you are surrounded by an early morning fog.
The storm is over!
...But still, there is something wrong.
As the gray dawn breaks, burning fitfully through the morning fog to light the sea, something seems strange about the waters below.
They seem almost solid, as if the sea had formed some strange sort of skin.
The air seems dead as well, and the remains of the sails hang limp, heavy with moisture from the receding fog.
Finally, the mist begins to clear, and what is unveiled is not the gently rolling vista of the sea, but a wet green field of weed.
The swath of dirty green stretches flatly in all directions.
To the stern, it extends for perhaps a half mile, beyond which lie the open waters of the mocking sea. In all other directions, the weed extends to the horizon.
Trapped within its vice are dozens of other long-dead ships, their hulls protruding from the sargasso at odd angles, masts askew, sails hanging in tatters.
One such ship lies mired only six hundred feet off the port side, and it seems to be in better shape than the others.
Perhaps most unnerving, however, is neither the sight nor smell of so much sun-baked seaweed.
It is the unnatural silence, for the thick choking green has robbed the Savage Kraken even of the strangely comforting sound of water lapping against her hull.
It is not a healthy silence.
It is the silence of a graveyard.
The swath of seaweed is a Sargasso, a treacherous patch of vegetation often driven by storms only to collect in regions of the ocean that even the wind and currents seem to fear.
A patch a mile across would be unusual, yet this swath stretches to the horizon.
Sailors call it Journey's End, and speak of it in hushed tones--rumors of a living island that appears from the mists after storms.
This living land is said to have a black soul that fuels the hunger of children rumored to live within its green embrace.
Journey's End is one of the sea's more terrible blights, and is said to be able to crush ships in its grip.
It's children are awful creatures formed of the weed itself, and are said to rise by night to slake their hunger upon any their green mother has caught in her grasp.
Okeys! Am gon'a be tha' right Suny this time! Fer sure!
Knowledge Sailor:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Prof Carpenter:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Perception:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11
Craft:Woodworking:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Sunny yawns, stretches and swings down from her hammock. CLimbing up onto the ship's deck she looks about at the scene around them.
After a moment she gathers all the crew that are currently awake and about deck and musters them to begin work on the ship's damage incurred by the previous... days(?)... storm.
Diplomacy:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Herslf pitching in with helping.
Craft:Woodworking:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Oh yah, that there dice roller be a bundle o' fun. :P
Though, since we dun't seem ta' be hurried ta' go some wheres... Sunny's "Take ten" should more'n enough ta' get things done.
Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (11) + 12 = 23
The storm had gotten bad enough that Bryson had to take refuge below decks. Then, after what seemed like days, it all stopped. He went to take a look and was assaulted by the wrongness of their situation. The world was still. Nature is never still. It can be quiet, it can be at rest, but it is not still. This, though, was still, deathly still. He almost liked it.
Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 21
"These things don't get this big. We in some trouble now, fer sure."
Bryson takes to wing to get a better view of the area and the condition of the ship.
Perception: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (7) + 21 = 28
Profession Sailor: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
"Journey's End." Ghirrak mutters, clearly concerned. "You're right Bryson, a normal Sargasso, bad as that is shouldn't be as big as a mile, much less this. There's a legend....rumors of a living island that appears from the mists after storms. It's said to have a black soul of it's own that fuels the hunger of children rumored to live inside it all."
Suny tilts her head, wipping an arm across her sweat beaded brow.
"Whut ye wan'a look all damp an' bedaggled fer?" She asks Bryson, even as her gaze looks over the endless seeming plain of... flat green.
"Like, fer m'self? I be likin' all wavy fronds an' stuff. On'a nice shallow, sandy type shoal. Not flat weedy stuff lookin' like this." She waves a hand out at the vista, then points.
"D'ye think there be any shine left aboard any of them bulks we can be seein'?" She asks, skipping over to the railing and looking out towards the closest one.
knowledge nature: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13
profession sailor: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
knowledge nature: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28
Burian's face grows dark as he expounds on Ghirrak's words... "Yes.. I've heard of this as well. The children are formed from the unnatural weeds. At night they invade the ships caught in their mother's crushing grip... to feed on the living."
He looks to the nearby ship, and shrugs at his own thoughts.
"There is nothing in my knowledge to suggest what course of action we might take here."
Sunny blinks, looking from Bryson then to Burian as she skips back to the group of 'Officers'.
"Whut? Whut ye mean there in't nuffin' we know ta' be doin'? Why, by whut t'is ye've said there's lots'a things we should be doin'!" Sunny exclaims.
"Makin' barriers aginst boardin' an' workin' out where's a best look-out places. Organizin' weapons details an' such." sunny pauses.
"Wait? Whut where that thing ye said? About 'Crushin'?" She glances towards the deck and the ship's sides.
Bryson flew up with some difficulty. The air is turgid, and difficult to move through. There are no winds here, nor updrafts to take advantage of.
Nevertheless, he is able to climb up to 1500 feet; there he is able to survey the entire horizon.
You can see the entire breadth of the sargasso extends out more than ten miles, maybe as much as fifteen miles in places.
Beyond the edges is clear ocean, and by the waves, there should be light winds at least there.
The flat green mat is studded in many places with ships in varius stages of decay, some of them completely overgrown with the green.
In the heart of the sargasso, the green fronds rise up into large forests, forming mounds of the stuff from which brown and green arms almost like branches or even trees protrude.
The passengers and crew all come up on deck to see this bizarre sight.
The passengers are all amazed at the sight.
"Is this LAND?" One speculates aloud.
The crew look more worried, and mutter tensely to each other.
The ships masts are damaged and cracked, the ships spars and yards broken or gone entirely. The few sails still left droop ragged and shredded.
It is fortunate for the sail situation that you struck most of them below before the storm hit. The spars may take more work.
It all boils down to, if you put all the unbroken ships equipment together, you have one working mast. So if you can get into clear water, you can move at 1/3 speed.
sense motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
craft ship: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
Burian nods to Sunny - appreciative of her perspective.
He then eyes the crew... noting their concern.
He reports to the captain, but allows himself to be overheard... better to keep their minds on the ship rather than worry over their strange situation.
"The ship's a bit battered, but we're not dead in the water. We will get clear of this. Won't take much to get a mast fit to hold sail... should the crew get to it? We can worry about what's out there after Bryson is done scouting.. and maybe after the professor has had some time to investigate."
Sense motive:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Suny pads over and, while she doesn't nay-say people's ideas about the where they are, she does her best to change people's minds about the what they should be doing.
Diplomacy:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
"C'mon! Hop lively! Timbers ta' be seen to! Stores ta' be checkin'!" She eyes the more desultory and glary mutterers."...Y'know, decks ta' swab." She threatens those who are slow on the uptake to start helping put the ship back to rights. (^_^)
Perception:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12
And being so distracted Suny definately does not see the Gnome go over the side. :P
Bryson lands on the deck with a heavy thud. He practically fell the last 20 feet or so. He reports to Ghirrak. "It be ten miles or more wide and deep. Though there's clear ocean once we get out. There's a forest at its heart. That's where ahm'a go. Ah gotta go."
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (8) + 11 = 19
Ghirrak nods as Sunny and Burian work to redirect the crew's attention. "Look lively everybody, we need to gather up every bit of undamaged material we can for when we get clear of this.....and we WILL get clear of this." he says, his voice ringing out across the deck.
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23
Turning his head he notices the gnome tossing the rope over the side. "Exactly where do you think you're going professor?" as he waits for a response, the captain looks askance of Bryson and his unusual need to visit the heart of this vile deathtrap.
"Ah can go with 'im." Bryson offers. "Maybe send a team o'er to that ship to scavenge" He indicates the closest ship them.
One such ship lies mired only six hundred feet off the port side, and it seems to be in better shape than the others.
Sunny skips over to where Mr Forol is getting his rope ready and leans over the side looking down at the green-filmed waters below.
Perception:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16
"I dun't think there be anythin', y'know, solid under there." She leans even farther forwards, squinting at what lies below, one tanned foot raising to counterballance, before bouncing back up right.
"Is jus, like, leafs... floatin' on'a waters." She opines, then smiles brightly at/to Mr Forol. (^_^)
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22
"Well, I say we find whatever functions as the thing's black heart and kill it," said Marius, peering over the side and awaiting developments from the fumbling beginnings of exploration, "Plainly, it's not going to release us if its own accord." He waved a hand at the various hulks scattered across the 'landscape'.
Professor Forol with Sunny close behind slid down the ropes to the green mat surrounding the ship.
The top of the vegetation is relatively dry, and Professor Forol is able to walk around normally on the green-brown mat.
Sunny however sinks a little on the rubbery materiel before rebounding.
Terrain is difficult.
As the boarding party assembles cautiously at the base of the ship, Professor Forol starts digging into the vegetation.
"This is absolutely fascinating! There are multiple species of kelp here, some I don't recognize!" He enthused, taking various samples and putting them in sealed containers.
He looked up at the others on the ship.
"I've dug down three feet, and it goes way deeper than that! I'm sure it's safe for you all to stand on!"
When your boarding party is down and equipped, they start walking across the rubbery sargasso surface.
Six hundred feet later, you approach the nearest shipwreck that might be of use to your repair efforts.
The wreck is strangled with weeds and vines, almost as if immense green claws hold the ship in their grasp.
In many places the caravel, a ship hauntingly similar to the Savage Kraken, has been torn apart by the vegetation's rampant growth.
Looking around, you can see several ways you can climb up into the ship's waist.
When you circle around it, you see a plate under the stern gives the vessel's name-- H.M.S. RAGE.
Does Woodland Stride allow Bryson to move normally?
Bryson makes sure that he has Longstrider and Greater Magic Fang active and he goes into the ship.
Sunny takes to the new terrain with her usual enthusiasm and glee.
Acrobatics:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19
"I yam all bouncin'!"
Survival:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Upon reaching the next ship Sunny peers up at the wood of the hull, swathed as it is amongst the grappling fronds of the kelp.
Appraise:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Perception:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28
After looking over the place as thorough as she can she climbs/moves closer for a better gauge of the state of this ship's timbers.
Climb:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
CraftWoodworking:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
Profession(Sailor):1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8
Profession(Carpenter):1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Disable Device:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27
Escape Artist:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23
Knowledge(History):1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
Knowledge(Local):1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
Sense Motive:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
Stealth:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20
She peers back towads the group's ship from where she's clambered to.
"Oh! We can be usin' tha' worst of tha' timbers here abouts ta' be makin' a...um.. bridge! Y'know, somat fer walkin' on whut will help carry all'a weight of wut t'is we find ta' be takin' back ta' ship!" She declairs/explains enthusiastically. (^_^)
Did I roll too many skills? (>_>)
I is tryin' ta' be helpful.... (<_<)
"Alright. Bonden, keep everyone at it until we return. If there's anything salvageable we'll bring it back. Ifwe haven't come back by sundown, get those in need of protection below and set an armed watch." Ghirrak orders before heading over the side to join the expedition.
"We in some danger here, ya idjits." Bryson admonishes the Professor and Sunny. "This place has evil at its heart. Don't go forgettin' that."
Bryson enters the ship boldly. Looking for trouble.
Perception: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (4) + 21 = 25
Sunny blinks innocently at Mr Bryson's comment...
She leans closer to Mr Forol,
"Here.... Whut be a... 'Eee-jit'...?" She asks.
Continues to look 'round the deck/wreck of the 'Rage'...:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24
With difficulty (or ease in Bryson's case) the boarding party crawls up and through the entangling overgrowth to reach the Deck of the Rage.
The timbers of the Rage's deck are rotting, and squelch nastily underfoot as you walk around.
Ship beams have been ruptured by the thick vines, which cling to every surface.
As you start to explore the maindeck, you start to see signs of combat--a swath of dried and blacked bloodspatter, a broken rapier blade lodge in a mast, some signs of frantic fortification.
The maindeck is wreathed in slippery seaweed and swaths of what appear to be thick green mucus.
Although almost everything has been smashed, the remains of three dozen burnt torches and an upturned cauldron that seems to have recently been filled with oil are still visible.
The ropes and lines are all rotted to uselessness, but you can see that the upper masts and spars are, though covered with some vines, appear to be sound.
You see the ladderways down to the interior of the ship are smashed and impassable. The only way you might be able to use is the cargo hatch, now blocked by vines and tiedowns.