The gnome sweeps off his feathered, broad hat and bows. Conchobar Shortstone, at your service, Xavdeyr.
"Get the feeling he's the type who only respects strength and skill," Mikael chuckles. "Glad I managed to get on his good side. We're gonna need as many friends as we can get on this bucket," he adds bitterly.
"Speaking of which, Conch. Anything you're not entirely satisfied with here? Any chance of, say, a mutually beneficial arrangement?"
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Xav grimaces and nods to Mikael. "At least one of us has. I'm fairly certain I'm a bumbling idiot to him."
Xav presses his index finger and middle finger together and tips them from his head to the gnome in a salute. "At my service, is it? Well then, how about a swig of that ale then?"
Xav laughs in jest.
Mostly.
Don't push it, pretty elf. I worked hard for this. Bought it from Grok. He growls.
He looks over at mickael. An arrangement? Possibly. What do you have in mind?
Archepex looks surprised. Truly! Well, you're family luck is rather poor, if you don't mind my saying.
Luke simply laughs in agreement. after a pause, Well it is nice to know I have at least one potential ally here. when the time is right, Harrigan will pay for what he has done. And if fate will have it, it may be at my hand.
Seeing one of the sailors working on intricate carvings, a grin spreads across Ausk's face, the tip of a broken tusk exposed as he makes his way over with nighttime libations. He chuckles and shakes his head.
"Never thought I'd see this sort of work again so far south. Mind if I sit a spell? Not handy with that sorta stuff, but I appreciate none the less. My old ship's Captain used ta have a leg made out of the stuff, ya know?"
The half breed, once given the go ahead, settles in to listen to the man talk about his work.
Jack Scrimshaw looks up and motions his permission to sit. A whole leg? That must have taken a spell. I don't get much chance now with Plugg workin' us so hard, but I like to when I can get down from the rigging.
Archepex half screeches and half chuckles. Brave words. But, as it happens, I agree. Harrigan is a bad spot in your already dingy species. The world would do better if he were removed.
You have guts, human, I'll give you that.
A few days pass without much incident. The ocean takes it's time calming down, and the sun finally re-appears after another two mornings.
That afternoon, the cry of "Sails HO!" comes from Rosie in the crow's nest. Plugg immediately changes course to intercept. Not long after, the target goes to full sail in an attempt to run, but the Wormwood is more than fast enough.
Prepare for action, Maggots! Plugg commands. Time to see if any of you are actually worth your salt!
It takes the entire night to actually catch up to the ship, and an hour after sunrise you are finally entering weapon's range. The ship is Rahaoundi with Man's Promise Painted in bright gold across her stern. Two light ballista can be seen on the stern castle.
Raris Kane calls Luke over. You did the best in training, Tien. You and the rest in your training group will take the stern castle and the wheel. You're the lead. Don't f*** up.
Archepex disappears for a while before appearing again in leather armor and wielding a long handled ax called a Bardishe. He climbs to the top of the main mast and waits.
"Well, it's important to have friends in a place like this," Mikael shrugs. ""Could be we look out for each other, maybe try to change a few things from the ground up. I tend yto get myself in a bit of trouble; could be I need some backup now and then. You seem to be good at staying out of such messes, but there could be something you want in return. Everybody wants something, mmm?"
Mikael bolts out of the ramshackle kitchen when he hears the yells, calling an apology to Fishguts as he leaps over the goat and sprints belowdecks. His heart races as he straps and laces himself into his leathers, unused for so long. He emerges some time later, still adjusting all his daggers and knives, before taking up a lean and twirling Angelina around his hands anxiously.
Luke gathers his "team" looks like I'm in charge. Lets make the best of the situation, try not to get killed. team up. each take a partner. stick with that partner. try not to crowd together, makes for easy targets for spellcasters.
He tries to spy the opposing force that may be gathering,
we seize the wheel and hold it, we can control the ship. Our job is the stern castle, no more. we take it and we hold it. no glory hounds.
Luke seems a bit nervous about this, and the idea of killing like this does not sit too well with him, right now though, he needs to bide his time. keeping these fellows alive is his best bet.
"How about just a little bit of glory-hounding?" Mikael asks with a grin, looking around at those gathered. "Alright, who wants to lead the charge with me?" Despite his terrible luck as of late, the imminent risks and dangers have him excited, grinning broadly as he glances from his allies to the ship. "How about you, Sharkbait? Fancy a spot of peril?" He winks at Sabine before glancing back at the other ship, Angelina spinning effortlessly in one long-fingered hand.
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Just before the ship's enter weapons range, for pigs are herded up onto deck by the cabin girl. She slits each of their throats and tosses the panicked animals overboard.
Strapping armor onto his chest and preparing his axe, his grin exposes a second broken tusk, and he laughs, clasping his fellow captives on the shoulder.
"Oh yes, we are going to have fun!" The half orc grins into the rising sunlight, taking a deep breath. His muscles flex like the rope holding the sails above their heads.
Nudging Mikael, he looks out to the opposing ship. "You know, this reminds me of a raiding song we used to sing."
"We had pigs?!" Mikael excaims in surprise and dismay. "I could have used those! Do you have any idea what I've had to fill the stew with?" He shakes his head in frustration, speeding up his knife-spinning as if to work it out.
When Ausk nudges him (leaving a decent bruise in his ribs), he grins, some of his irritation forgotten. "I do enjoy your raiding songs. Never thought I'd find myself on this side of things, but you go where the wind takes you, eh?"
The battle is hard and fast. You take the sterncastle relatively easily, but an officer of the ship leads a counter and she wounds several of you with her magically extending pike. In the end the day is won, and you are assigned to the captured ship, the Man's Promise, with Plugg and Scourge as your Captain and First Mate. It only takes about a week for this to go south, and a mutiny lead by youall sees the two dogs and the 1/3 of the crew who supported them dead.
The ship, unfortunately, fared poorly in the fighting. An incident with a barrel of Alchemist's Fire below decks has left much of the internal structure damaged and scorched, the sails are torn, and the crew's morale is low in spite of your victory. Repeated attacks by fellow pirates who (rightly) assume you are a soft target do not help the ship's condition or the crew's. It is an open secret that this ship is cursed and should be ditched as soon as possible. You limp into the nearest friendly settlement after weeks of battling for survival with a ship that barely floats and nothing but the rags on your backs.
The town curves along the shoreline of Motaku Isle, spreading across bridges to a few small islands sitting in the deep-blue bay. Small, well-made wooden buildings ring the harbor. Festive flower and palm-frond garlands hang from various buildings, bridges, and statues. Vessels of varying shapes and sizes jam nearly all the town’s long piers, and the great number of ocean-going ships lying at anchor render the outer harbor nearly impassible. Throngs of revelers, many wearing masks, carouse through the town while singing and drinking from frothing tankards. You have arrived in the town of Lillywhite, and it looks like the Rum Punch festival is in full swing. The rum in your hold ran out a long time ago, and your crew practically stampedes down the plank for the festival.
"Make sure you leave some for me, lads!" Mikael yells after the men, catching his bandanna as it blows off his head in the breeze caused by the stampede. He winces, twisting a hand into the rigging and leaning forward slightly. The officer on the Man's Promise had nearly gutted him, leaving a rather impressive scar in his side and a nasty sting in his pride; it had taken a week to fully heal, and still flared up when he twisted too much. Of course, since he preferred to fight as if dancing, with twirls and spins and elegant flourishes that did a rather nice job of flicking the blood from his blades, the wound and him had come to an agreement - it wasn't going anywhere any time soon.
With mirth in his eyes and salt in his wavy hair (growing nicely; it made him look dashing), he looks out over Lilywhite, taking a deep breath through his nose. The air was intoxicating, bringing him scents of fresh baked goods, of gunpowder, of spit-roasted meat, and - best of all - rum. Sweet, glorious rum; none of the vile stuff that had been served aboard the Wormwood (he spits on the deck at the memory, as if to clear his mouth of the taste). Rum that didn't taste as though it had been filtered through a hill giant's loincloth; rum that didn't knock you out after the first pint and leech the strength from your bones; real, good, rum.
He stands just a moment, blue eyes closed, black hair stiff with salt, the white sleeves of his shirt flapping free from the confines of his blue and orange leathers. Tapping one boot-heel against the deck sharply, he turns to his ragtag group of friends, a broad grin splitting his sun-tanned face.
"Well, lads, what say you?" he laughs, genuine joy showing in his eyes for the first time since the mutiny. "Nobody throws a party like Caydenites, and we'd be mad to not take advantage!"