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Memories of the previous night fade in and out of your thoughts; the rowdy tavern, laughter ringing in the smoky air, ghostly scents of strong perfume and sweat meats, and the lingering flavor of cheap wine on your lips. Your head is pounding in rhythm with a strange creaking noise as you slowly come-to in a dark, damp unfamiliar room.
The floor beneath you is hard, and sways a bit; feeling a bit sick, you wonder if you're still drunk.
Before rising, several heavy steps approach and your eyes are seared by the blinding light of a lantern. Standing at the door are seven armed men, and you find that your own weapons and belongings are missing.
A tall, dark haired man wearing a long coat and heavy boots stands out from the crowd as he sneers, revealing two full rows of gold teeth, and looks over the lot of you. Not a man of strength, but backed by the six other burley men carrying saps, it is clear that he is at least dangerous.
His thick, oily black hair is pulled back beneath a red bandana, and his beard is braided in several places with beads woven into the braids. "Still abed with the sun over the yardarm? On your feet, ye filthy swabs! Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap'n Harrigan flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!"
He motions with a whip gripped expertly in hand for everyone to get up and follow him, the fellow men with saps spread out at the door, watching for any queues from the man with a whip.
Charlotte slowly stirs as she wakes up, feeling sick to her stomach. She staggers to her feet and looks at the gathered men. Her eyes go wide for a moment and her arms quickly rush up to cover her torso, until she realises that, thankfully, the rowdy sea dogs had the decency to leave her clothes on.
Anyone who was at the tavern last night will recall the woman as being one of the entertainers who went up on stage; a skilled fiddler versed in dockside tales and shanties, who spiced up her act with the inclusion of traditional Varisian folk music.
Seven brothels of Korvosa, what kind of merde did I go and get myself in this time?
Looks like you had a bit too much to drink, sis, an unheard spectral voice taunts from within her mind.
Laugh it up, hag snack; just hope I don't end up like you.
No stranger to pirate ships, Charlotte knows better than to fight back against their captors. She straigtens her clothes and moves out on deck, shielding her eyes from the glaring sun that seems to want nothing more than to pierce a hole right through her skull.
Scoundrel rubs his temples and looks up at them with a very irritated look on his face, trying to look fearsome. "Do you fools have any idea who I am?" He says with a snarl, his features showing his obvious tiefling ancestry, hoping someone recognizes his resemblance to his ancestor. (Bucaneers Blood)
Those at the tavern would remember a very obvious tiefling male with horns tail and odd colored eyes. He was chatting up sailors and other types, looking for information on something.
Ignatius rolls over onto his stomach, the swarthy Southern fellow groans low, swallowing the sour taste of last night's booze.
Gozreh's angry white ass...what did I drink? Or what did I NOT drink... The gentle rocking motions though drags a much louder groan from the man's lips. Iggy pushes the damp hair that clings to his forehead and readjusts the stray strands beneath an old rugged red bandana wrapped around his forehead.
Putting a hand to the rough wood, the familiarity of the waves giving him the motivation to rise to his feet. Squeezing his fist, he reaches to his belt, feeling much lighter over his midsection and...
His eyes widen, as he looks to see the whelp and his flock of lackeys. At least the lackeys were more his measure. Rather than saying anything stupid, the large Caldaru in striped sailor shirt and leather breeches narrows his eyes at the man and heads to the bright deck above.
Oh what a sweet surprise my Lord, promise me a sweet new toy to play with and instead I am the new toy. So very good a trick.
Janus shakes off the fuzz and hops to his feet. An able hand, and one well used to being Shanghaied, he seems to more flow forward than really walk.
"Such sweet promises you make, and me not even acquainted with you. I am Janus of Nidal, and if you will allow me I will be passed you and on my way to meet your good captain."
Janus moves forward, hoping in his currently unarmed state he does not have to try to slaughter these men.
Whispers and hoots follow after Charlotte as she ascends the stairs of the middle deck towards the piercing white of sky and sea foam above. A handful of sailors watch her go, jeering as she passes. "Besmara's bossom, looks like Mas'ah Scourge has brought som' sweat meat aboard." His fellow mates chuckle, licking their chops.
The glare of the sun recedes, the wind carrying the salt and surf is refreshing, making the oily taste of nutmeg in her mouth more poignant.
On the top deck waits a cruel young man, wearing an officer's jacket over a bear, muscular chest. His head and face are mostly shaved, except for the long thin beard held tight by two golden clasps and a long, thin, black ponytail that whips behind him in the wind like a snake ready to strike.
The ship's crew bustles about quietly under his watchful eye, in the distance one can barely make out the thin, hazy line that is Port Peril.
The black-bearded man's sneer curls into a most dissatisfied frown, as he takes a good look at Scoundrel. "Aye, ye do look like a Jack Tar I knew, 'is face reminds me of a goat's arse." He lets out a low chuckle, and mean-eyes his lackies.
The six sailors at his side look a bit uncertain, but seem more frightened by the man with the whip, and have their saps at the ready, just in case there is a tumble. They rally under the black-beard's cruelty, sneering as they wait for a reason to give the Tiefling a few licks.
"Who ye were is dead boy. Best be warmin' up to the idea." His gaze narrows as he sizes up Scoundrel. "Now, will ye be walkin' on yer own two feet, or do my boys have'ta carry ye?" His grip on the whip loosens slightly, the tip just barely swaying above the hardwood floor.
More awake and aware of his situation, Ignatius picks up the fading taste of oily nutmeg on the tip of his tongue. On the top deck, the crew is hard at work and the ship is under way. The ocean spray rushing up against the sides of the large sailboat leaves only a faint mist in the air of salt and sea.
A man in a dark blue jacket and brown leather breaches stands near the stairs watching over the rest of the crew, but turning his dark gaze upon those who just now arrived on deck. He looks away for a moment to bark orders at a few men that he finds to be working to slow.
Ignatius hears a wet shlop sound behind him, a woman with blood-red hair and pearlescent-fair skin covered in faded tattoos mobs the deck absently. Instead her attention seems to be drawn by both Ignatius, and his fellow press-ganged mates. Her gaze catches his for a moment, as she smiles genuinely. As the man in the blue jacket returns, she returns her eyes to the mop and whistles an old sea shanty while dutifully mopping away from the 'new' crewmates.
There is a faint, oily flavor of something, nutmeg, you're sure on your lips. As you approach the men let you pass without incident, keeping an eye on you as you pass through the middle deck to the top deck. Just as you pass the black-bearded man he grins, "I keep me promises swab, best ye don't forget. Now, get up top, else ye be learning real quick." He cackles, gold teeth flashing.
He moves to let you pass, keeping aware of you as you do. His fellow lackeys straighten, trying to keep their imposing posture after the start that Scoundrel had given them.
Scoundrel meets his gaze and gives the thugs another intimidating look as he flexes his hands, showing off his sharp claw like nails. "I just wanted to see if any of you idiots still knew the name of Captain Brimstone of the Hellfire, bad luck to be messing with his blood. I'd have joined you willingly." Scoundrel emphasizes the bad luck.
"No need for cheap poisons and theatrics." Scoundrel makes his way to join the others on the deck.
Still a bit shaken, the flunkies are startled by the claws, a few even taking a step back as Scoundrel makes his way past them. The black-bearded man scowls as he watches the newcomer's influence on his men. He snarls, muttering low under his breath after Scoundrel had passed, "We'll be seein' who's made the bad draw soon scamp."
Scoundrel smirks at his reaction on the men, at the muttered threat he merely chuckles, seeing he's already gotten under the man's skin. "ANY draw against Captain Brimstone and his ilk is a bad draw..." he says ominously as he makes his way to the deck.
Such a number of loud mouths today... the tall man thinks to himself, as he smacks his lips together, trying to place the sort of taste in his mouth, not remembering anything necessarily sweet he had ordered the night previous.
Such was the life of the Markborn, though. Those who bore the Mark of the Black Lady. Rubbing the skull and crossbones that shows on his cheek, he pushes the long hair back and knots it roughly out of his way, exposing the Mark to the light and to the view of all. As the young fiery red headed woman passes by them, he nods, making no attention to hide the Pirate Queen's Mark on his face.
Once his eyes are fully adjusted to the light, he looks over to his fellows who have been pressganged. Iggy's eyes widen, as he notices Charlotte.
"Why am I less than surprised that we would end up on a ship together again?..."
Janus smiles as he walks past the rough man with the whip. "The oil was not necessary my friend, I was looking for a new berth anyway. Maybe when we get done with the introductions, you may introduce me to your little lash there. I may be able to teach you a few techniques common to the pain masters of Nidal."
Vile folk, all of them. What a surprise. Wouldn't you say, sis?
Charlotte sneers in disgust at the the jeering. She wasn't afraid of them trying something while she was awake. She'd clawed a man in the jollies before, and she wasn't afraid to do it again. She would, however, have to be careful where and how she slept.
"Why am I less than surprised that we would end up on a ship together again?..."
"It's a big ocean on a small world, isn't it? It's nice to see you again, Iggy. I just wish it was in better company." She says, before leaning in to whisper. "What a bunch of pigs."
"Eh, we've been in worse situations than this." The tall man just shrugs. "They don't call the Banshee a 'Fickle B**~$' without reason."
He touches the Mark on his cheek for just a moment, as he looks over those around them.
"You said it. Between the Black Queen and the Lady of the Waves, there's never a dull moment," Charlotte nods with a chuckle.
"Pigs? Never been called a pig before. Goat, yes. But a pig? Never. Or did you mean the swine of this crew?"
"I'd think it's pretty obvious who I was talking about." Charlotte replies with a roll of her eyes. "Let's hope there's more to the captain than there is to his crew."
And more to the new recruits..., Scoundrel thinks at the somewhat b!*@&y comment.
The man raises a brow as you walk past, is it a hint of curiosity in his eyes, or the hint of uncertainty. "There only be one master of pain on this ship, and that be me skag. As the others are gathered and forcefully moved up the stairs, the man with the whip keeps his eyes on you.
A few other sorry sobs are escorted to the top deck, guarding their eyes from the light as they ascend. The Black-Bearded man cracks his whip, drawing everyone's attention to the terrifying visage on the upper deck.
A broad, muscular Garundi man with a shaven head, and a long beard bound with gold rings, and an eye patch. The other pirates standing around him on the top deck give the imposing man their full attention. Again the whip cracks and is answered with a cry of pain from behind you.
"That is enough for now, Master Scourge. Captain Harrigan wishes to address his crew."Snaps the younger man with the long ponytail, obviously second in command to none other than the man who is behind your imprisonment, who's cold gaze burns through the lot of you like wildfire.
"Thank ye, Mr. Plugg. The Garundi man nods to Mr. Plugg, stepping forward as he grips the banister and addresses the new 'crew'. Glad you could join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for 'volunteering' to join my crew. I'm Barnabas Harrigan. That's Captain Barnabas Harrigan to you, no that you'll ever need to address me. I have only one rule - don't speak to me. I like talk, but I don't like yourr talk. Follow that rule and we'll all get along fine. He starts to turn away, but looks back, "Oh, and one more thing. Even with you new recruits, we're still short-handed, and I aim to keep what crew I have. There'll be a keelhaulin' for anyone caught kill' anyone. MR. PLUGG!"
Mr. Plugg steps forward, "Captain?"
"If you'd be so kind as to make pirate out of these landlubbers, it'll save me having to put them in the sweatbox for a year and a day before I make pies out of 'em." Harrigan growled, pushing past his first mate to speak with his other officers.
Mr. Plugg's smile widened with sinister glee. "Aye, aye, Captain." Mr. Plugg made his way down the stairs and was met with a scurrying Master Scourge who whispered in his ear quietly. Mr. Plugg's eyes narrowed as he listened closely before shooing Master Scourge away. "Worms and maggots," he called out as he approached the new 'crew', [b]"Let's get to seeing where ye will be working on the Captain's ship." Mr. Plugg pats the cat-o-nine against his leg, "Let's see who's got their sea legs, shall we? Climb to the top of the rigging and touch the crows nest in one piece aye?"
Mr. Plugg points up in the direction of the main mast with the cat-o-nine, there sitting at the top of the mast amid the rigging rests the crows nest.
Master Scourge hisses, "Time starts now maggots!"And cracks his whip for emphasis.
The other's around you rush for the rigging, not wanting to cross their new captors.
They're making us climb the rig, really? Not asking around in case anyone has any kind of useful talent? What a bunch of dumb apes!
Knowing herself to be a mediocre climber at best, Charlotte opts to take the slow but steady option, and uses her tough claw-like nails to get a solid grip to the rope as she climbs.
Janus rushes towards the rigging and tries not to kill himself on the climb. "Will give it my best, but I am not a rigging monkey."
The brawny man doesn't take near as much time as the others, working his way up the ropes. He seems to be having a pretty simple time of it, for the most, but his foot twists through the rope near the top and gets hung. As he tries to free his foot, the remains of the poison in his system throw off his balance, and he hangs upside down for a moment.
He still remains calm in his actions, righting himself and easily making it the last few feet.
Scoundrel looks up at the rigging and rushes off against the others to climb.
Scoundrel seems calm and confident in his actions as he climbs. He slips once and seems angry at himself for such a mistake but he catches himself and continues climbing and seems to get a surge of grace and skill as he is determined to be the first up top.
Mr. Plugg watched his new crew climb the rigging with expectant glee. "We'll see if ye can make the first...cut, worms." A few sailors with sour dispositions lingered around Mr. Plugg, one of them was Master Scourge, muttering under his breath to Mr. Plugg. Master Scourge's gaze stayed locked on Scoundrel, his golden grin widening.
When Scoundrel slipped for the first time, Master Scourge laughed, drawing in a few of the crew to watch the spectacle. More men have gathered bellow the main mast, jeering and betting on who they thought would fall.
When Iggy slips there is a thunderous roar, followed by a cry of disdain as it becomes obvious that Iggy wasn't going to fall. A few coins switch hands as Iggy reached the top of the rigging and touched the Crow's Nest.
Mr. Plugg clapped loudly, "I see few of ye aren't lil girls. Good for you. Now, make your way back down, in one piece." His eyes shinned with a dark thirst.
Good thing I didn't wear a dress last night" Charlotte thinks to herself as she climbs down the rigging.
Janus will continue his steady climb back down the rigging. Silently hoping someone would fall so he could prove his skills as a surgeon and stay away from swab work.
After Scoundrel's slip up he seems to have gained quite the motivation to push himself and steadily climb to the top. If he reaches the top fine he mockingly waves to Scourge before climbing back down/
The small crowd of pirates below deck took pleasure in having a moment to gauge the skills of their 'new' crewmates. The crews anticipation boiled over when Scoundrel slipped for the first time; starting the first round of bets: who, if anyone, was going to fall.
A few close calls riled their excitement; and as you pass the halfway mark a new round of bets took place...who would be first. The seconds ticked on, Charlotte, Janus, and Iggy steadily climbed the ropes, with Scoundrel trailing just behind, and a few other nameless souls behind him.
On the second stretch of the rigging, again the excitement of the crew had bubbled over when Iggy got stuck in the rigging, falling behind Scoundrel. The first to reach the crow's nest was Charlotte and Janus, followed by Scoundrel, and then Iggy a moment later.
By the time everyone climbs back down to the deck, Master Scourge had dispersed the crowd. Name calling and threatening those who didn't hurry off to their chores fast enough.
Mr. Plugg quietly waited until everyone was back on deck before continuing with his special tests. "That was thee worst bit o' climbin' I've ever seen." He pointed to Charlotte and Janus, "Ye and ye, yall take ta the riggin' an' ye will be workin' fer me, report directly ta me every mornin'. I'll give ye yer duties when I'm done with the rest of ye scabs."
Mr. Plugg turned to face the rest of the line-up, his gaze lingered for a moment on Scoundrel before pin-pointing on Iggy. "Can ye cook?" He asked flatly.
Iggy responds with the same tone, cursing internally over how slow he went up the ropes but truly glad he hadn't fallen and broken anything.
"No, sir."
He pulls back his hair, tying it tighter away from his face and showing clearly the mark of Besmara on his cheek.
Mr. Plugg frowned, his gaze lingered on the mark for a moment. "Swabbin' fer ye then, ye'll report to Master Scourge every day for yer duties." He clicked his tongue against his teeth, "Keep yer head low scab, and ye'll fit in just fine." He moved down the line after assigning Iggy to Scourge.
Mr. Plugg walked past Scoundrel, giving him a dirty look as he passed. Master Scourge's chuckle could be heard behind him. "Don't need no demon-blooded bastard trying to poison us all." Plugg looked back over his shoulder to Scoundrel and then past him to Master Scourge who was waiting in the wings. "Ye'll report to Master Scourge as well, seems he's taken a fancy to ye," he sneered.
Mr Plugg stopped between Janus and Charlotte, taking a moment to look between the two of them. "Can ye cook?"
"I was so looking forward to making my Abyss Piss surprise stew too!" Scoundrel says with a mocking sigh. "My cooking greatness shall never be known I suppose." Scoundrel then follows Iggy to the Scourge.
"One of my many talents, if you're not in need of a carpenter or a surgeon... or a man who can loosen lips and get the truth of things out of stubborn captives." Janus smiles broadly at Mr. Plug.
"I'm not much of a cook, I'm afraid. On the other hand, I think like you could get a lot more work out of the crew if they had some music to work to. It does great for a ship's morale, and you'll find people are too busy working and listening to complain about anything." Charlotte says, invoking all of her charm to try and sway Plugg into getting her her fiddle back.
If she was going to be stuck with these dogs for a while, she'd at least try to maneuver her way into a more comfortable duty.
The big man remains quiet, nodding only once, as he heads over to Scourge, giving the tiefling a look that seems typically reserved for the town idiot, or the seagoing alternative.
"Duties, sir?" the man says, remaining limited in the words spoken but keeping his eyes open.
Plugg snapped in a crisp tone, "Scourge, make sure that scab is thar' fer the bloody hour. I think he needs ta learn some respect."
Master Scourge circled like a vulture, his gold teeth flashing in the sunlight. "It'd be me pleasure, Mr. Plugg. He's got quite a mouth, might have ta carpenter stitch it up." Scourge chuckled low, "Or maybe he'll have ta cut it out."
Master Scourge motioned for Scoundrel and Iggy to follow him, "Now what be yer names for the Capt'n's book?" He leads the two with a few extra hands bellow deck. Scourge leads them through the middle deck were a few pigs are running from an overly fat, hairy man wearing an apron covered in stains of strange and unsettling colors. The man stumbles around, a bit into his cups, and fall on his ass. A moment later he busts into laughter but quiets down as Scourge passes. "Fishguts," Scourge called the man, "Yer new helper will be sent down in short order, better hope tonight's meal is better than the piss you served last night."
"Fishguts" waddled back and forth until he was back on his feet. "Aye, Master Scourge, I'll put the welp ta work." He replied half-heartedly, taking up after the pigs again.
Plugg shook his head, "No surgeon needed, and Master Scourge might have a thing or two ta say 'bout you tryin' to take his job. The cook's mate will do fer ya. Now, hustle your way ta the galley, and make sure that slob isn't passed out on the floor."
Once Janus and the other unfortunate souls were assigned and dismissed, Plugg turned his attention to Charlotte.
Mr. Plugg laughed, his scowl fading for a moment as he slowly trailed his eyes over Charlotte from head to toe, "I could think of some things ye could do to improve my morale." He gave her a slow, sleazy wink, followed by a round of chuckles from his men. "By day ye work, if ye be looking for someone ta entertain tonight, yer welcome to come by my cabin, lass." He leaned in, stroking his beard as he sniffed behind her ear. " Would ye play fer me?"
"PLEASE." Scoundrel says in a withering tone. "I was a slave. Nothing new." He takes off his shirt and shows his back, showing a bunch of healed over scars. "Just adding to the collection." He then pauses. "Although, is it really so smart to already start beating on the new crew when it's apparent you need them for duties? Otherwise why would you have pressganged us all in the first place? If you're going to beat the new guys so soon why bother?"
Diplomacy check:
Seeing Mr Plugg start harassing Charlotte, Scoundrel tries to get him to leave her alone, without being too obvious. "I thought it was bad form to help yourself to the booty before the Captain gets his pick?"