Seeing a battle scarred halfling, he works his way over and nods.
"So how'd you like the music last night? Name's Ausk by the by. What's your story?"
Liked it well enough, mate. He says as he ties off a length of rope with practiced ease in spite of three missing fingers. Ye have a talent. I'm more for the upbeat tunes meself.
I've been aboard months. Can't say how many exactly. About two seasons. Volunteered, I did. The cap'n was willing to take just about any walking man, so I signed up. Beats the beggar's life by a lot and then some.
In the mean time, she will try and chat with Archepex. "Where are you from?"
Archipex scowls at his scrub brush as if it has offended him and chucks it in the bucket of limey water. He seems more resigned than yesterday. Or is it beaten down. You can't tell.
I'm from Devil's Peak. Western Cheliax. Where the land, sky, and sea meet in the most violent of ways. The sea carves the land into magnificent cliffs that the air rushes up in billowing clouds...He catches himself, suddenly halting the verbal painting. It doesn't matter now... I don't even know why I'm talking to you.
"Aye, upbeat tends to win a few more, it seems. I'm going to try for a more...pleasant song tonight." The big man just grins as he works on the rope more.
"So ya volunteered, huh? Can't say I blame ya. I was under a harsh dwarf up in the Steaming Sea. Nothing's quite like the sea, huh? I always said that if some of us were any more connected to the sea, we'd've been born with flippers." Ausk grins as they work, hoping it'll get a laugh.
The halfling does laugh. It's true. Name's Ratline by the way.
"Good to meet ya, Ratline. Maybe you can point me in the direction of other good folks on the boat, and ones to stay away from?" He shrugs his large shoulders, easily showing his many tattoos.
"I figured out pretty fast about Plugg and Scourge, but beyond that...there's a few left to figure out, aye?"
The druid scowls at Archepex's attitude. "Aww, shape up, will ya? I know this is bad, but it could be worse. Fishguts could be frying you up for dinner. Moping won't solve your problems."
Sabine lets out a slight smile as she notices Mikael climb on to the main deck, although she responds to Mikael's question without ceasing her scrubbing. "I've had worse. Nothing I haven't felt before." The druid had tied a loose linen shirt to expose her back. The lash wounds were gone, leaving faint red lines where angry welts had been the night before.
She stands up to stretch and fixes Mikael with storm-grey eyes. "We have to be more careful. Next time we might get what Jake Magpie got."
"Well, the good news is, he probably just thought we were sneaking off somewhere for a bit of-" He stops himself, realizing that he knows several crude euphemisms, and none he'd feel comfortable repeating in polite company (well, as polite as one could get around here). "Well. Point is, it's just as well he didn't know what we were really planning on doing."
He cringes slightly under Sabine's steely gaze, despite being several inches taller. "Please, don't remind me. I could live quite happily never seeing something like that again." He stares out over the ocean, a chill running down his spine. "Should probably get back to work soon. Kroop may be drinking like a fish, but eventually he'll notice that there's none of me where there used to be three. Long as you're holding up alright, that's what matters."
Hands in his pockets, he strolls along the deck whistling, looking for Crimson, who he assumes will be enjoying a break and watching Xav do his share of the work.
Xav finishes his work and then starts in on Crimson's work with the rope. By then end of the day his cut hand is bleeding again, having torn open numerous times from all the work.
Once his work is complete he wanders around looking for something to tend to his wounds. He stumbles in on the tail end of Sabine's and the birdman, err, Archepex. He holds out his busted up bleeding hand and says, "Any of you know some place I can get some help with this?"
Archepex glances at the wound. I would seek out Sandara, elf. She may be able to help.
Sabine wad right. Uhh, he hated acknowledging that a human was right, but there it was. Moping wouldn't help.
But vengeance might.
Xav nods, "Sandara right. Thanks. Who is she again? Where can I find her?"
Sabine watches Mikael go before turning to Xavdeyr. "You don't need to go to her. Let me see your hand."
Xavdeyr holds his bloodied right hand up tentatively to Sabine and asks cautiously, "Are you trained in the arts of healing? I was helped to slam my hand down on a barrel full of glass last night. It's recovered some, but the activities today aggravated it somewhat.
Sabine quirks an eyebrow at Xavdeyr. "You'll want to avoid doing that," she says wryly. Taking her hand and pressing it between both of hers, she mutters a quick prayer to Gozreh. Green light flares and the elf's hand begins to rapidly heal.
"The Wind and the Waves has seen fit to grant me many gifts."
After enjoying his stroll for a few minutes, Mikael decides to get to the point of his little excursion and approaches Cog with an easy grin. "Heard you pulled a real number on that half-elf fella last night," he begins. "That's impressive and all, but how are you at Knivesies?"
Xav turns his hands over and over as he lets the magic of the 'Wind and Waves' wash over him. He smiles and looks surprised, "Damn! That's SO much better! Thanks, I appreciate it."
Looking around he asks, "So, where have the others gotten off to? Should we have an uh, meeting tonight perhaps?"
Sabine shrugs. "Thank me if you must, but also thank Gozreh. I could not have done it without their help. As for the others... I assume they are finishing their chores for the day. We should talk tonight, all of us. I have some gifts for everyone."
While working high above the others and seeing them milled about, he salutes them with a wide grin before continuing his work.
Mikael - Crimson grins in a most unsettling way. What do you have to bet that would make such a thing worth my time?
Luke became a bit overworked. but managed to stay on task today. He didn't have too many friends on this boat, but plenty of enemies. or at least it seemed that way.
Luckily for Luke, his diligence today kept him at a good rhythm, he managed to finish without too much fatigue.
Mikael spends a moment pacing as if in thought, his heart racing with the danger of the proposal. After taking a deep breath, he fixes his gaze on Crimson before suggesting, "Lashes. If you win, next time you find yourself called in for the bloody hour, I'll take three of your lashes, from the whip or the cat. If I win, you do the same for me - or for Sharkbait," he adds, remembering the angry red lines on Sabine's back. "Coin comes and goes. Betting work gets you a few hours off. But this way? There's pride on the line."
He takes a step back, hands spread. "Think about it. If you're interested, we're on for tonight, after rum rations." He then turns and heads back to the kitchen, wondering what in the nine hells and all the layers of the abyss had gotten into him. You damned fool, he thought bitterly, hoping he'd at least sounded braver than he felt.
Come Bloody Hour, a dwarven lass named Rosic Cusswell is drug forward first for failing in her tasks that day. She demonstrates her name as the lashes land, turning even the most foul sailor's ears red.
Next, Archapex is called. For his failure at swabbing, he gets three.
The damage from the day before isn't quite healed, and today's punishment is brutal, leaving him limp against the mast. Scourge cuts him down and leaves him on the deck without a second glance.
Mikael- After Bloody Hour, Crimson strides up to you with a wicked grin. He motions you over to the arm wrestling barrel that, mercifully, had been cleared of the usual sharp objects that usually litter the surface. The blood stains are still there though.
He produces a razor sharp dagger with a bone bolt and flips it a, few times.
For the audience, State your terms.
And you do have an audience. Every eye is drawn to your contest. Word spreads fast on a ship.
Ausk smiles, looking at the daggers and the way the two are doing.
"Ooh...now this is interesting...." the half-orc comments to no one in particular, as he grins and watches.
Sabine watches the spectacle wordlessly, nursing her rum.
The broader shouldered, tattooed Northerner approaches where the birdman is slumped down and offers a rough hand up. "Good job taking those hits..you didn't give him the satisfaction."
Once he gets his fellow up, he prepares for a bit of the music this evening. His voice clear and strong, he begins a song of conquest, of a young man, continually rising to larger ships and more daring acts of piracy. Of course, a wee bit of magic doesn't hurt, as his voice is just a bit more clear and strong than is totally natural.
Although his song is not as wonderful as previous nights, his story does strike a chord. It seems to bring to mind the rise to power of the current Hurricane King.
Archepex takes the hand offered and staggers to his feet. He is in rough shape, that's for sure, and it seems to have softened his contrary mood. He takes a seat on a nearby barrel and breathes deeply to manage the pain.
Ausk's song is well appreciated, even earning a few cheers at appropriate moments. Certain crew members seem to be truly enjoying his song, while Plugg's cronies are still frowning at just about everything he does.
Xav's hand instantly aches at the sight of Crimson despite having been healed earlier by Sabine. He grinds his teeth and wonders what exactly is going on now.
Sabine will watch the spectacle, finish her rum, and spend the night resting to fully heal from the lashes she received yesterday.
"The name of the game is Knivesies," Mikael begins, taking up his pacing. His eyes flick from Crimson to the dagger and back, eyes roving appreciatively over the bone. "In the absence of a table, we'll have to make a few adjustments. Looks like this'll be even more of a brawl than your typical game." As he talks, he begins removing his various knives from their homes. "First, no weapons or armour, spare that dagger you've so thoughtfully provided. If you'd be so kind?" he adds, handing off the small pile to Ausk. He then sets about removing his leathers, and, after a moment's thought, his shirt as well, stretching a lean, toned body marked with the tell-tale thin scars of knife-fights.
"The game begins on a count of ten. First man to hit the floor, conscious or not, loses. This being a blood-sport, I'm expecting there'll be a fair amount of it.
"All bets are to be placed on the barrel. At the conclusion of the game, the winner takes half; the rest are split between those who bet on him." He rolls his shoulders, figuring he may as well put on a show while he's effectively signing himself up for humiliation.
"Normally, those'd be the only stakes. However, as per prior agreement, the loser of this little bout becomes the winner's whipping boy, to an amount not exceeding three lashes." Yeah, it was low, but he was already having second thoughts about the whole thing. Why am I still doing this? Oh, right. Pride. That's why.
At least he has one advantage, he figures. "Someone fetch a rope," he orders, striding across to Crimson, and holding up his right arm, as if poised to arm-wrestle. "Because there's one last thing: the contestants of a game of Knivesies are always bound together at the right wrist. Helps keep things interesting." And there was the advantage, a flutter of confidence swelling in his chest as he stared Crimson down with a grin. After all, years of fighting with two weapons instead of one forced a degree of ambidexterity. If Crimson was right-handed - as he well suspected - who knew, maybe this could work for him after all.
Crimson nods and holds out his hand. It is strong and scarred from a life of hard labor. The pirates dive into betting. Most of the old crew favor Crimson, while most of the new swabs stand by Mikael. In all nearly 200 gold is piled up at the center of the "table", which is actually three planks set across a pair of barrels on either side.
Ausk approaches Sabine before they all go below decks.
"Forgot to say it yesterday, but you did good with the post." the big man just smirks as he continues. "Glad to see you didn't give them the added satisfaction."
He still sips on his drink. "First time on a boat like this?"
Later, Mikael would look back at this event, and realize that getting one of the men who'd betted on his opponent to do the count of ten was a bad idea. One moment, he'd been testing the rope by flexing his right arm as the crewman yelled "seven"; the next, it was "TEN!" and Crimson had the knife.
At least, that's the story he'd tell.
Now, though, he tries to keep an expression of grim determination on his face, fear fluttering in his throat even as the familiar rush of adrenaline roars in his bloodstream, as it always did when he had the opportunity for a knife-fight. Hoping against hope that Crimson is weak in his left hand, he yanks on the rope binding their right wrists and steps in, drawing his body close to the other man's as if for a dance, denying him the advantage of space in which to line up his attacks. That done, he quickly takes stock of the situation. Crimson was about his height, but had considerably more bulk. That doesn't exactly work in my favour.
To test the waters, he tries a quick, shallow punch, using his tied right hand. Hopefully that wouldn't provide a wide enough opening.
A quick slice with the knife was ruled out and Mikael's thought to block the easy stab is rewarded with an ineffective jab. Crimson sets his feet and prepares to push Mikael back!
Dammit, Mikael! Okay, think, think. Can't move around too much, so there goes all that fancy footwork; he's got the only knife... you might be kinda f~$!ed here, Mikael thinks, desperately trying to formulate a plan. When he sees Crimson set his feet, he decides on a risky move. What was the worst that could happen?
Crimson feels Mikael slightly pull away and shoves. Mikael slides to the side, but the fact that their hands are tied allows Crimson a bit of leverage. He goes by Mikael, but spins on the other side like a snapped whip, using the momentum to bring the knife around.
The crowd gasps as Crimson looks like he's going to fall, then grits their teeth as he is suddenly spinning! The knife slices across Mikael's shoulder and the older salts roar their approval! The dance has switched Crimson and Mikael's places. They now stand closer on the boards to the people who bet on Mikael to win, but their backs are to their detractors. The coins jingle softly as the boards flex under their weight.
Luke mingled among the crowd watching the match. he looks for a good vantage point to see the event unfold.
unfortunately he has no money to bet with. so an observer he shall remain.
He does in fact support Mikael, and makes his way to his corner. but the shift of sides leaves Luke a bit confused.
he decides that since the others have not switched sides, he does not either.
but as he watches, he learns how this little game is played.
Archepex watches from 30 feet up in the rigging. The bird man rarely stayed on deck for long, and this was one example of his tendency toward heights.
Pain, hot and immediate, shoots down Mikael's arm, quickly coursing through him as the knife cuts a nasty wound in his shoulder. He lets out a strangled grunt, gritting his teeth in a hard grimace. He's too fast. I'm usually better than this, he thinks bitterly, before shoving all self-pity aside - after all, there were more important things to focus on. Such as the thug with the knife.
Growing desperate and dripping blood, Mikael shifts his feet again, stepping around Crimson and hooking a foot around his leg, attempting to sweep it out from underneath him.
The moves takes Crimson off guard and he slams back onto the planks. The knife just barely misses cutting off Mikael's ear as Crimson goes down.
Now that he was on his back, Crimson was easily within arm's reach of the coins. He reaches above his head and quickly stuffs one of them in his belt while preventing any retaliation with the same blocking move Mikael had used at first. Crimson was now officially winning the game.