"We still need to figure out what to do about Muffin. ...I think he should just keep hiding."
To Lehland: "Definitely keep hiding. The story could be that he snuck aboard during the visit to port. We should stage a rat chase in front of some other crew. First we ask a couple people, maybe even Grok herself, how many ratters they have on board. Hopefully they don't keep track and we'll get different answers."
"Thren getting rebuffed like that might be our signal to call it a night. That sound good?"
Lehland doesn't need a long time to formulate a response.
"If you can drag Thren away from the drunken, rusty-nail arm wrestling I'd be willing to call it a night."
The Halfling stands and stretches.
"Hopefully our execution avoidance strategy will work as well tomorrow as it did today. Also, we should ask Cusswell where she got that fancy looking axe she carries. I'd feel more comfortable around this crew with 8 inches of fighting steel within easy reach, if you catch my drift..."
As Lee heads off to bed, his thoughts turn toward Muffin and bedtime.
It's not the more familiar *comfortable sleeping spot and complete relaxation* emotion (which is definitely simplified in the feline world) but rather the also simplified *catching a few winks in a dangerous place surrounded by enemies* feeling.
It's followed up with *stay hidden* & *stay safe*.
As they prep to leave, Lehland turns to Lark.
"I was just thinking about having one of us stay up to watch over the other two. You know, setting a watch. Then I realized that everyone in the crew was dosed with rum and everything we have's been stolen already. In that light setting a watch seems less important than a good night's sleep."
As he says that, Lee thinks back. Did he see officers drinking rum? Or were they drinking something else? And what about the crew on the night watch? Were they on the rum as well? Or will they get their ration as they come off watch in the morning? So many questions...
...and maybe just enough mental capacity to sort some of them out. Nothing will come of it now, anyway, so Lee decides to discuss with his friends in the morning.
For her own part, after causing that outburst, Thren's lost her mood to sing. "I'm done for the night, I think. Maybe getting some rest is the right idea after all, guys."
You didn't see any of the officers at rum handout save Grok, Fishguts, and Scourge. Grok and Fishguts themselves drank a bit, talked and laughed, and likely went to bed. Scourge left once he was sure everyone took their ration. The officers present are the ship's carpenter and the Gunner's mate. There are two more low ranking officer berths here in the lower deck, and you surmise they must be on night watch.
The bulk of the crew is here and getting ready to go to bed after their fun. The few who aren't here you surmise must be night shift, and that night shift is very small.
"Setting a watch might be a good idea later, but you're right, better if we get our strength back for now."
"G'night, y'all. Sleep hard."
All too soon, as the sun begins to rise, one of the officers shouts for crew to wake and get their sorry arses to the main deck for the day's assignments.
Between her difficult work the day before and the effects of the rum, Threnody's head still throbs and she feels slow to move. Lee and Lark feel as best as they could under the circumstances, having gotten enough to sleep off the rum.
Sandara Quinn greets you in the morning and points to the walls, where a number of crew lockers are built. Many are empty--there are enough lockers for about 40 crew, but again, there's only about half that amount of crew currently. "I doubt you have much duffle to speak of, but should you have any kit to stow, you might want to buy or beg a lock from Cut-Throat and pick a locker."
Ship's biscuit and cold, weak tea are the order of breakfast, to be grabbed as you go topside.
As you get ready to climb the stairs to the mid-deck/cargo hold, you hear a familiar whip crack and the "MREEEEOOOAAAAAAW!" of a startled and angry cat.
Coming into the cargo hold, you see by the supply crates, Scourge has caught Muffin by the leg with his whip, while facing off Fishguts the cook. "We don't need no stowaways, furry or otherwise," Scourge snarls, getting ready to drag the cat toward him with his whip.
Fishguts, bleary-eyed and still likely drunk, still somehow moves with remarkable alacrity, scooping up the cat and freeing him from the whip's entanglement.
"We need a good ratter," Fishguts pleas. "All we've got is Rattline and he's only got six fingers between both hands."
Scourge snarls and seems ready to whip both Fishguts and the cat when Plugg comes charging down the ladder to the main deck. "What in the hells is going on?"
Some pirates stand and watch while others ignore the proceedings and go topside. Owlbear, there to do his day's watchstanding, watches the exchange between the two with a clear look of bewilderment and fear.
Lark glances at his friends. Better if one of the other crew speaks first in defense of cats, but he won't wait long before trying to put a positive spin on Muffin's presence.
Lark will look at Lehland as he starts to speak. If he sees any kind of negative sign he'll turn the first word into a cough.
”Cat’s was always lucky on my last cruise. Anytime we got a new cat our next haul was extra rich. Our last one got killed by accident and that was right before the ship was sunk in a battle.”
Lark will address this to the other crew and avoid looking directly at Scourge while he speaks. He’s aiming for a casual tone to avoid anything that might seem like a challenge to Scourge.
Lehland gives Lark the 'get in there' look.
He throws a similar, significant, 'do something' look at Thren.
"Hey, Fishguts. Are you holding the only person who got on this boat voluntarily? And he works for free?"
As the mariners hesitate as to who will speak first, Scourge replies, "This bag of fleas was in the hold, Mr. Plugg, no doubt gettin' into our food. Owlbear flushed him out."
Owlbear interjects. "I wanted to pet him."
"I was about to tie a chain to the thing to throw it overboard, when Fishguts disobeyed me, and said he wanted to keep it." The gold-toothed pirate glares at the cook.
Fishguts steps forward, Muffin wriggling in his arms. "Mr. Plugg, we need a good ratter! Ain't no reason to kill a cat, 'tis bad luck!"
Lark then adds his interjection, adding to the luckyness of cats. Scourge is about to reply, but then hesitates, apparently concerned for his luck.
Then Lee is able to get in his remark about the cat working for free.
Hearing Lee talk, Owlbear looks over to him and smiles. "Chicken man!" Plugg snaps a look at him and Owlbear explains, "The halfling fed the chickens."
"Get to your station, Owlbear, and stay out of this!" Plugg chides. Owlbear walks despondently over to his position by the stairs to the officers' quarters. But then Plugg's eyes light with an idea.
"You want to keep the cat, Fishguts? Fine. Keep it fed with chum; it's no loss to our rations." He says this like it is his idea, and not Lee's suggestion. When Scourge begins to protest, Plugg adds, "But you'll take six lashes for impertinence tonight, Fishguts."
Scourge grins in acceptance at this compromise, and strokes his whip's handle in anticipation of being able to carry out the punishment.
Plugg continues, "And I'm tempted to give you six more for the feathers that appeared on the Captain's turbot last night. But we need a better solution to your performance..."
He turns to Lee. "You like to spend time with the chickens? Fine. You're the new cook's mate, starting immediately. You catch the fish, slaughter the chickens, and clean up that rat's nest we call the galley--and if Fishguts is too drunk to cook, you'll be responsible for cooking in his stead. I hear slips are good cooks, so I expect not to be disappointed. If I am, and more to the point, if the Captain is, you can take turns in the sweatbox."
He pauses and adds, "And if no rats get caught, or the cat gets into our stores, you," he points at Lee, "Will be responsible for butchering and dressing it for the night's stew!"
"You stay here and get started with Fishguts." He looks around at all the crew gawking. "The rest of you, GET TOPSIDE, swabs, or it's the lash for all of you!"
The crew dashes to get to the deck. Once Scourge leaves, Fishguts holds up Muffin to look at him. "I know a good ratter when I sees one. What'll we call ye? Kraken? Pancakes? Fluffy?"
Lee walks over to pat Muffin and introduce himself to Fishguts.
While patting Muffin, he says to Fishguts, "He looks smart as a whip, but how do you know he'll be a good ratter? I barely know which end is which on a cat."
*We're fairly safe now.*
*We owe someone some pain, now (recalling Mr Scourge's rough treatment of Muffin)*
Lee continues to pat and stroke Muffin and says, "I like the name 'Pancakes'. Somehow he looks like a name that has to do with shortbread would fit."
Lee steps back and bows, "It seems that I'm to be your new cook's mate. My name is Lee. I was the quartermaster's mate on my last ship and was responsible for keeping inventory, making sure the larder was sufficiently and correctly maintained and I am an excellent scrounger when in port. Everything I know about cooking I've learned from you and I'm eager to get started with my scut work."
Answering Lee's first question, Fishguts replies, "Good strong forelegs and wiry haunches, see? They can run'em down and pin the buggers. Rat're stronger bastards than you know, but this one can wrestle'em good, I bet." He puts the cat down. "Off ya go, Pancakes, and we'll get ya some fish for dinner."
Fishguts leans back and listens to Lee's introduction. He is a squat man, only two feet taller than Lee, and heavyset. His apron is covered in years worth of stains, half of them at least rum, but the knife tucked in his apronbelt is clean.
"Ain't you a dandy-speakin' sort, Lee? I'm Ambrose Kroop, and the crew calls me Fishguts as ya know. Well, I think we'll get on fine. And if you want ta talk about quartermasterin', ya can have a drink with me and Grok once the stew gets to simmerin'. Come now, and I'll show ya around."
Fishguts waddles into the galley. You enter an open room where the main kitchen is to the starboard side; portside and aft there is a heavily reinforced door that leads to the stuff the quartermaster keeps lock and key.
The galley and surrounding area are a crazy, crazy mess of cooking supplies, knives, bits of paper, scraps, and gods-know-what. Cured meat hangs from hooks, fish lie in barrels, wheels of cheese are stacked like tires on the floor. Crates full of dried fruits and vegetables sit under a smaller selection of fresh produce acquired in Port Peril for more immediate use. Crates of ship's biscuit and barrels of sauerkraut are ready to be accessed in leaner times. There are several barrels of fresh water here (and in the main hold area). You can also see the tuns holding the rum for the crew, which are sufficiently large enough you can tell why Harrigan is not stingy with the ration... and why Fishguts seems to be permanently soused.
Every flat surface appears to have been used as a cutting or preparation surface at some point, and he seems to have used all kinds of knives and other bladed items for chopping, including weapons-grade knives. Likewise a number of his cooking implements seem to be improvised from other items. Against the wall near the door there lie spears and harpoons for fishing, and hanging above them is a grappling hook on a rope that stands out precisely because it is the ONLY thing in the room that is clean and sparkles with a silvery sheen.
Fishguts seems to point out parts of the kitchen that you cannot discern from one pile of stuff to another. He asks you to clean dishes, which is the 21 stew bowls from the crew, as well as a heap of dishes from the captain's table last night. Once you're done, you're asked to find a serviceable knife and chop vegetables.
Fishguts begins preparing a fresh bit of pork. He babbles, sometimes to you and sometimes to himself. As he works, a black-feathered chicken wanders in, which he picks up and puts on his shoulder. It watches as he works. The black feathers of the chicken match the occasional feather that showed up in your stew last night. "Say hello to Lee, Bezebel," he says to the chicken, but the chicken, sadly, does not speak.
Once the issue with Muffin is resolved, Lark and Thren leave Lee to his new position and report for duty on the main deck.
Today, Mr. Plugg points at the reedy looking older man who is the ship's doctor/carpenter and says, "That's the Stitchman, you'll be working with him today, finishing fixing up any scars left on the Wormwood by the Chelish navy."
The "Stitchman" introduces himself further as Quarne, and literally shows you the ropes, as in fixing up some rope and sail. He is brusque and to the point, and talks about little other than the work that has to be done. He seems to enjoy getting lost in his work, and does it quite well.
As they get to work, Rosie Cusswell quietly slides close to Threnody (halflings are good at that quietly appearing thing). "I owe you an apology. 'S'my mouth that got me in trouble with Grok too. She won't give me my fiddle back, but if the likes of Fipps or Jaundiced Jape hear I want it, they'll find a way to get it first and smash it."
Scourge, doing his rounds on the deck, notices Cusswell talking and starts to approach.
Thren is definitely not at her best. Since Scourge is already in the mood to break out his whip, the tiefling decides it's a good day to just keep her head down.
To Rosie: "Not a problem. I didn't mean to pry. Just seems a shame for anyone to be unable to enjoy the music in their soul." Seeing Scourge coming, Thren tries to make eye contact and get Cusswell to realize our rather mean boss is coming.
As Scourge approaches Lark kneels down over his work and palms a gold piece from his shoe.
This all assumes that there are enough hours in the day to do all this. If not it will be an ongoing project.
Lee immediately dives into the work. He'll have Muffin around him (which is comforting for them both) but not spend a lot of time paying attention to the cat physically. Empathically he will keep up their usual rapport.
Doing the dishes goes fast. In preparation for chopping, Lee looks for two knives. One should be a chefs-type knife. The other one should be a weapon (like, an unashamedly weapony dagger), hopefully with a sheath to carry it in. The ultimate luxury would involve finding blades that Halfling sized. (I'm assuming that finding a chef's knife would be part of Lee's usual duties. Hunting for a weapon would be extracurricular.).
Once the tools are secured, Lee will get on with the chopping, placing emphasis on getting it done rather than making it pretty. As he works, he'll clean. Like in order to chop, he'll clean the area he's going to use as a chopping block then chop then clean before moving on.
After a few hours, Lee sends to Muffin: *Who wants to go kill a rat?*
When Mr Kroop (since Fishguts is Lee's boss, he'll refer to him as Mr Kroop, especially in his domain (the galley)) introduces Bezebel, Lee will stop what he's doing and go observe the chicken.
"Hello, Bezebel." Then to Mr Kroop, "I've never seen a black chicken. Saying that, though, I have to say that I know less about chickens than I do cats. Where did you get her? She seems, I don't know, calmer than the other chickens..." Lee trails off, giving Kroop a chance to respond.
As they chat, Lee will find tasks for himself. He'll organize the cheese wheels by which is likeliest to go bad first (he'll ask Kroop abou this) and put them into a place where they won't get kicked. The open barrels of fish will get married together based on culinary usage (again, Kroop will be asked about this) and dispose of the now empty barrels (either leave them intact but outside the galley, knock them down to be reassembled by a cooper later, recycle them into fishy smelling wood for the ship, burnt as fishy semlling fuel, thrown overboard, whatever). The fresh produce will get inventoried and dishs planned based on what is at hand. The dried produce will be inventoried and set up out of harm's reach. The biscuits will be checked for any broken seals on the container and will be inspected and resealed as needed. The sauerkraut can take care of itself. Knives are cleaned and arranged (though Lee will hang onto any cutlery that he has found/used thus far). Papers are scrutinized and dealt with ("Keep or throw out?" is Lee's mantra.) but Lee will try to read any of the papers he runs across in an effort to get useful info.
Food scraps are either disposed of or stored outside the galley and kept for bait (No rotting food near good food). The cooking supplies are roughly arranged. Things are cleaned, starting from on high and moving down to finally sweeping and mopping the floor. One thing that Lee will take special care with is tracking and eliminating is loose, black feathers. If Kroop asks, Lee will tell him that he wants to keep Bezebel off of Mr Scourge's mind.
Basically, the orders of the day are two goals:
1. Organize and re-arrange just enough to be the only person on the ship who knows what is where. Lee will never hide things from Kroop and if Kroop observes he'll know exactly where everything is.
2. Make it possible for Kroop to turn out better, healthier food in less time with less effort. If Kroop's not going to get onboard with keeping things in the galley nicer, Lee will just follow him around cleaning and handing him things he can't find anymore.
Pointing at Scourge’s feet, Lark exclaims, ”Master Scourge! Master Scourge! Look at that!” Passing his apparently empty hand over the tongue of Scourge’s shoe he produces the gold piece and thrusts it at Scourge. "It’s the cat’s luck, just like you said. This must be your reward for sparing its life.”
Still holding out the coin Lark gently shifts himself to break the line of sight between Scourge and Cusswell.
Scourge, set on marching toward Thren and Cusswell, is oblivious to Lark's legerdemain. As his eyes flash down toward Lark, his ever-present sneer turns to surprise and then about as close to delight as he can express, seeing the gold appear on his shoe. He snaps up the coin with lightning speed, glancing at it to be sure it was real.
"I probably dropped it," he snarls to Lark, but he seems pleased nonetheless with the magically appearing coin, and he pockets it and begins to walk away, entirely having forgotten whatever it was he was going to say to Rosie and Thren.
Looking over his shoulder. "Fishguts still gets his lashing though," he reminds them, and chuckles as he continues his rounds elsewhere.
From the poop deck, Plugg seems to have been watching the exchange, but says nothing. He is too far away to have noticed the details of Lark's trick, at least.
Rosie Cusswell in the meantime did catch Thren's meaningful glance and immediately sets to focusing on patching a bit of sailcloth. When Scourge passes, she gives both Thren and Lark a grateful look, and she seems more relaxed in interacting with both of you for the rest of the day.
Quarne "the Stitchman" compliments Threnody on her incredible work patching the sails---one of the few words he has spoken most of the day.
"Ah, yes, you've got a good eye even if ye don't know it yet, Lee. Bezebel's an Ashfell Black. Good birds: not THE sweetest meat or largest eggs, but still suitable for both eating and laying, and both in one is a useful thing aboard a ship, aye? Moreover, as you note, quite calm-hearted. Can't take a chicken that gets seasick, can you?" He strokes the chicken fondly, and she clucks softly.
The task of fully cleaning and organizing the galley will take days, but Lee takes a dedicated crack at starting the task. While Kroop occasionally intervenes to indicate he wants something to stay put, he seems to have no problem with you consolidating or organizing much of the supplies--unsurprisingly, he is laid back about most things.
Muffin acknowledges the encouragement to find rats, and you can hear some scuffling and squeaks that indicate he is doing his job.
When dealing with barrels, you're asked to clean them out, using soap with extra lye. Half are to be dried out and turned into wood for the cookfire (which also makes more lye) and the other half to be sealed with wax and stored as a rain barrel. Practical, although leaves your hands sore.
In addition to a number of cooking knives of various sizes (nearly a dozen) which Lee arranges in a knife rack and chooses one for himself, he also places his hand upon a hilt well-sized for a person his size. "Oh, that's where that paring knife went..." Kroop mutters, but as Lee yanks it out of the cheese wheel it was stuck in, he finds the "paring knife" is a very well made, perfectly balanced dagger.
Most of the papers are recipes or bits of ledger (though where the ledger book is they were torn out of is a question perhaps that will never be answered), detailing galley inventory at different times. You can discern from the dates that Kroop has served aboard the ship for about three years. His handwriting from the earlier years is considerably neater and even indicative of a fair education, at least when it comes to food items. Recent papers show a clear shake to his hand, although this does not seem to affect his knife skills, thankfully. The recipes range from standard stew recipes to rather fancy dishes like Lobster Thermidore. In some cases, the recipes are written on the back of the ledger sheet.
Later in the afternoon, as Kroop has the crew's stew simmering and much of the officers' meal in order, Grok pokes her head around the corner. "Up for a sip?" She asks Kroop.
"Always, Grok, always," He says, wiping his hands on his much beleaguered apron. "Oh, and uh--behind the cheese wheels there, that's Lee. He's my new mate."
Grok gives Lee a good look and nods. While big like many half-orcs, her build is the orcish equivalent of "willowy." This of course does not mean she is not strong, as it is fair to assume she is. Her throat has a huge, old scar across it.
"Hullo, Lee. You take care of Fishguts, okay?" She grins and winks. "And we'll hope you don't disappear like the last cook's mate, okay?" She laughs, and saunters over to Kroop, holding out a bottle of rum. They sit down against the wall, clearly ready to start drinking in earnest.
"Come have a drink with us, Lee," Kroop says. "If you've finished with the scullery."
As Scourge departs without the chance to use his beloved whip, Lark turns to his work with Stitchman. He assisted the carpenter on the Aurora's Kiss and Lark wants to prove his skill to this quiet man. He can't resist, however, the chance to examine the Wormwood's upper deck. Lark particularly wants a look at the locks on the officer's quarters and the captain's door. What's the quality of those locks? How long would they take to pick? Does the sweatbox have a lock or just latch shut?
Daily task - ropes and sails with Stitchman
Day Action - Sneak - explore upper deck
Lark seems to have distracted himself as much as he did Scourge, and manages to stab himself with the needle for stitching the sailcloth. . The pain in turn results in shoddy stitching, and the Stitchman makes him pull them out and start all over. This gives him less time to look around the main or foredeck as he'd like. All he manages to notice is that the sweatbox is closed with a heavy bar but not a lock, and that the crow's cage has been emptied. The parrot that had been perched on it yesterday sits inside despondently, nibbling on some ship's biscuit given it by Quinn.
Thren does thank the Stitchman for his compliment, but as tired as she is after a day's work and whatnot, doesn't talk much either. But the bard does hum a tune or two as she works, whatever comes to mind, to help the time pass.
Thren: You have at your disposal and in easy reach large needles, thick thread, small knives, scissors, canvas, and sailcloth (basically, waterproofed canvas) as well as rope and hemp strands.
Lee will take the dagger he found and tuck it into his belt. He'll put it in the back and drape his clothes around and wear it casually, is if ordered to by Mr. Kroop.
Lee stops what he's doing to greet Grok.
"Hello, ma'am. Understood. Take care of Mr Kroop. No disappearing." Despite the seriousness of his answer, Lee smiles broadly while delivering his response.
In response to the invitation to have a drink, Lee responds, "I would appreciate a cup. You two feel free to start without me and I'll join you when I hit a good stopping point." He busies himself with some food prep, making a medium sized meat and cheese sandwich (crust cut off, diagonal cut, wrapped in paper(like a kid would enjoy)) and a plate with sliced meats, cheeses and breads (nothing that would be called a 'meal'. Hardly a snack, really.). Lee carries both over to where Mr Kroop and Grok have started drinking and leaves the plate, saying, "Here. There's no need to drink on an empty stomach. I'll be back in a sec to join you." And without waiting for thanks (or reprimand), Lee heads out.
He quickly makes his way to Owlbear's post. Finding the big man, Lee hands him the wrapped sandwich and says, "This is for being kind to animals. Chickens and cats. Enjoy it." Lee again leaves without waiting around for thanks.
Making his way back to the galley, Lehland reaches out to Muffin:
*Any luck with the hunting?*
*Show everyone your prey.*
Arriving at the galley, Lee joins Kroop and Grok. Does it look like they've eaten any or just drank? (Was this a good idea?)
He'll accept a cup of rum (if offered) and taste...
..."GHAAAKKK!!!" Which he follows up with a hoarsely whispered, "that's smoove..."
Lee will try tp pull his act together before continuing.
Owlbear's face lights up at the food, and he devours it nearly whole. "Thank you," he says, but adds with a firmness. "But you still can't go up."
His training is clearly deeply embedded in him, and he guards the stairs ever vigilantly as well as the rest of the room. Still, it takes no cold reading expert to see how pleased he is both at the gift and the general act of kindness, and you can make a fair guess both are extremely rare occurrences in his world.
As you return, Grok laughs and claps you a little too hard as you cough on your rum. "That's a good lad, it goes down easier as the days go on." She tilts her head toward the snack, which she has at least partaken of if not Kroop (more because he's focused on the rum). "Be careful with the gifts, though. All of this technically belongs to the Cap'n, and I've got to check it every day. If something goes amiss in the accounting we can all get the lash for it. I don't expect the books will account for the loss of a few slices of cheese though. Just don't make a habit of it." She smiles.
Grok is pretty crystal clear--she doesn't want you to do that again (at least in a way that will force her to either note the loss or cook the books), but at the same time she recognizes the eagerness to please and has little truck with that. Her concern about the lash is not fearful--unlike many aboard the ship--but simply technical and part of the working environment.
Grok and Kroop get to chatting, as your head goes a bit woozy from the drink, you don't pick up much save they both talk about being from Port Peril (they did not know each other, however).
Kroop himself gets nearly insensate, and perhaps for good reason, as Owlbear appears in the door at around 5:30. "Mr. Plugg says it's time to come up, Fishguts," he says. You can hear Scourge's heavy-booted steps not from far off.
Grok helps Fishguts to his feet, face hardening.
"Don't worry about me," he slurs. "I've been kissed by the lash so often I don't even feel it anymore."
Owlbear escorts Fishguts toward the main deck. Scourge smiles as he shouts, "All hands on deck!"
At that moment, Muffin appears in view, deposits a dead rat at Scourge's feet, and dashes off.
*I am a clever boy.*
Scourge curses and kicks the rat away, and all the crew assemble on the deck for punishment time.
EVERYONE:
As the day of work comes to an end, Scourge calls all hands to the main deck again for the Bloody Hour. This one is less tense than yesterday, as no one is to be keelhauled.
But you know who is being punished: Fishguts, for being defiant to Scourge regarding the cat. Plugg announces as much to the crew as they prep Fishguts for the six lashes.
Some crew murmur, some with sympathy for the cook, others taking bets as to at which count the lash will make him pass out. Whether in disgust, indifference, or enjoyment, all eyes are on the mainmast.
The cook is obviously inebriated, even moreso than usual, and Owlbear and another mate have to a struggle a bit to help him get his shirt off (not a pleasant view, but you can see indeed his back is leathery with thick scars). Owlbear leads him to the mainmast and ties him to it without any struggle.
Fishguts turns his head, blearily looking toward where he thinks Lee might be (although he might be looking at any of the gnomes or halflings aboard the ship at the moment) and says, "Be sure the cabin girl gets the Cap'n's dinner."
"Quiet!" shouts Plugg. Scourge takes position by the mainmast and as Plugg counts, eyes lit in joy each time Fishguts flinches, Scourge administers the six lashes, laughing with glee as he does so.
At first, Fishguts barely seems to feel it, between his thick skin and a likely high dose of "anasthetic" in the form of rum. But the last three lashes cause his flesh to begin to burn red. After the fifth lash, Quarne the Stitchman calls out, "He's had enough!" but Scourge looks at Plugg, and Plugg shakes his head and calls out the sixth lash. This last strike cuts his flesh open, causing blood to flow freely, splashing into Scourge, onto the mast, and dripping down to the floor.
Fishguts, when he is untied, falls to the ground, barely conscious. Grok helps him to his feet with a grint. Sandara Quinn slides in and helps walk Fishguts down the ladder, her hand on his back.
Sandara's hand faintly glows as the worst of Fishguts' wounds close and fade from angry red to pink.
Afterwards, crew are ordered to disperse.
Lee: An adolescent woman with short-cropped black hair approaches you, introducing herself as Caulky Tarroon, the cabin girl. "Go lad, we need to get the officers' mess." She is a tad imperious.
You know what is the officers' mess because it is the food that looks nice: slow-roasted pork with a rich gravy and fresh vegetables. Caulky tastes each dish to be served, explaining, with no guile, she needs to check it for poison. The way she tastes it--minimally, but enough to detect any problems--means this is the case. While you help her carry the dishes to the captain's door, she orders you to return below decks before she opens it, resting extra trays on nearby barrels.
In the meantime, Sandara and Grok have helped Fishguts to his bed in the room next to the galley.
Your last task is to bring out the stew and rations, with Grok's help. You are then free to rejoin your companions.
Everyone: The rest of the evening goes the same as the last. Stew and rum are passed around. Tonight dice are the game of chance rather than cards, and the bulkier crew are comparing skills by tossing a lead ingot wrapped in a greased pigskin, which is called a "hog lob."
Sandara approaches all of you in a quiet corner. She puffs smoke from her pipe, and the smoke conveniently rings around her, obscuring her lips from observation. "Remember what I said about lockers?" She says. "I suggest lockers 18, 19, and 22. Perhaps you should go look at them." She gives a nod to Thren when saying "18," Lark at "19," and Lee at "22." She adds quietly, "I wouldn't go all at once though."
She slips into small talk, about being glad Besmara has blessed them with fair weather at least.
No really, maybe you better go look at those lockers. Quinn is being helpful.
Lark stoically watches the display of sadism at the mast and then heads below decks with the other crew.
Watching Fishguts being helped belowdecks
Lark swills his grog
Quinn suggests getting a locker
After small talk with Quinn, Lark turns to Threnody. "How about the two of us visit with Cusswell? If she's well-inclined to us right now then this is a good chance to get her in our camp. Maybe we can ask how far she'd be willing to go to get her instrument back."
Thren's not exactly happy to see Fishguts half-flayed alive at the Bloody Hour, but there's nothing she can do about it. Seeing Sandara help Fishguts belowdecks does help cement Quinn in her mind as one of the crew to be respected and include in any plans for the future.
Thren takes the time to check locker 18, as Quinn's been on the up-and-up with her so far. She smiles when she sees the notes on the buckler. "I'll have to get a lock for this," Thren whispers quietly to herself.
The bard nods in agreement when Lark mentions Cusswell. "You're right about Cusswell. Can't have too many friends, y'know?" The tiefling nods toward Quinn as she speaks. "Maybe I'll go ahead and sing again, and you can try to talk her around. Remind her of what she's missing, that's my part. You can ask how far she's willing to go to get what's hers."
Backtracking a bit...
"Be careful with the gifts, though..."
Lee listens to Grok's entire admonition with his full attention before responding.
"Yes ma'am. I expected as much. On my last ship I was assigned as quartermaster's mate because I have neat penmanship, can do math well and have a knack for engineering (and it seems like the quartermaster gets drug into every unsolvable problem on a ship). I was also just starting to do some copying of maps and charts. But from my time in the quartermaster's office, I'm acquainted with the concept of who (the ship's captain) owns what (basically everything) on board ship. Especially at sea. Feeding a sandwich to Owlbear was probably a luxury. But Mr Kroop is going to have a bad night and no dinner..." and Lee looks significantly at his now well sauced supervisor, "...and I thought getting some food into him would be a worthwhile effort. But it looks like he's gone straight to the liquid painkiller."Lee raises a cup to Kroop. "You're paying an ugly price for saving a cat you hardly knew because you didn't want to see a poor animal treated cruelly. That makes you a better man than most, Kroop," and if Grok or Kroop raise their cup Lee will touch his cup to theirs before drinking.
"Gha. Normally at home we drink to one another's health but this rum makes that seem so sketchy...
After seeing a rat corpse get dumped onto Mr Scourge's foot.
*Yes you are clever*
*Steer clear of Scourge. He would happily kill you, still*
"Whole ship's a place ta tread careful," Kroop slurs. "Whole ship is poison,it is. 'N Harrigan's the venom sac and Plugg and Scourge the fangs. They know I'm 'armless though, they might put the lash on me for a show, but I ain't worth their time otherwise." The afternoon descends into inebriated blather from there.
Thren yawns widely."Damn. I'm getting too ambitious for my own good. I'm beat, Lark. I think you're going to have to solo this one. Drink's going to my head, it's why I don't want to touch the stuff normally."
The tiefling rises slowly, unsteady more due to her low energy than the rum (though the drink's still a part of the problem), and heads for her bunk.
The Halfling follows the procession from the galley to the deck. He won't interfere but he stays close enough to Mr Kroop to assist or take instructions or whatever needs doing. He'd like to Mage Armor the cook but tipping his hand too early regarding his capabilities could hurt everyone so Lee hopes Kroop can endure the punishment.
After the beating, Lee idles along behind Grok and Quinn as they take Kroop to his quarters. As he follows...
...and notices nothing amiss.
Lee goes about the process of delivering food to the captain as smartly as possible. The only snag is when Caulky Tarroon refers to him as 'lad'. "I'm actually not offended but some Halflings do bristle at being mistaken for human children. I don't know if you've been around Halflings much, but you realize I'm not a 'lad', right? I'm fully grown, though new to adulthood, and am a seasoned slayer of men and beasts." Lee will say with as much good nature as he can muster given the circumstances.
After delivering the meal, Lee will find a quiet spot ask Grok about Kroop. "Mr Kroop's okay, right? I've seen people hurt in fights, some maybe even worse. But that lashing looked bad..."
After joining his friends he'll get the news about Locker #22 and maybe note that...
...Quinn has given him really good advice.
Once together again with his friends, (and again using a cup as proof (hopefully) against lip reading) Lee will give them the manifest of Locker #22. "All useful items, though a hogshead of Alchemists' Fire and a folding boat would solve our problems faster, I'd wager. Also, I found this stuck in a cheese today." And lifting his shirttail he'll reveal his dagger to his friends. "There are piles of spears and harpoons down there, too, if one were interested in things like that..."
Heaving himself to his feet, Lee continues, "I'm off to bed. My midday rum toddy has left me feeling a bit worn and today's display by Plugg and Scourge has sapped me of all desire for merry-making. I'll swing by the galley to feed 'Pancakes' then I'm into the hammock."
*I' coming to feed you some fish.*
*Are you watching over Kroop?*
*He's hurt because he was protecting you.*
(The third message is a little more complex but not totally unsendable. Muffin's relationship with Lee has allowed him to better grasp the usually unfeline concept of "selfless act")
Once there, Lee will greet Muffin affectionately.
*There's my clever boy.*
*Nice rat today.*
*Can you tell if anyone is nearby? Any stinky pirates around?*
"Mrow?"
Muffin enters the galley from the direction of Fishguts' quarters.
He is very glad to see Lee.
*Followed? Really?* (In the kind of pitying tone one uses for someone who never quite gets the hang of 'shoe tying' or knowing 'left' from 'right')
Muffin tries to figure out if anyone is around, mostly by listening and sniffing. Given a few seconds of that...
...he's pretty sure of the lay of the land.
As his friends head off to bed Lark suggests ”Might as well only make one trip to Grok’s store tomorrow. I’ll pay her a visit and try to buy three locks, if that works for y’all.”
Once they’re gone, Lark strolls over to Cusswell. ”That was good of you to talk with Thren this morning. She’s a good soul and you can imagine she hates to see anyone parted from their music. I’m sure Threnody wants to help you out and if she gets up to anything you can count me in as well.”
”I always feel more optimistic about improving my situation when I have friends around, and the more the merrier. If you ever feel like you need a friend, well, you know how to find us.”
Influence Cusswell
When Lee interacts with Caulky, her imperious tone fades, but her lip dips into a pout. While he's made her recognize perhaps the error of her ways, she's turned to sulking for a moment, "Cooks mate is the only one I get to call 'lad.' Everyone calls me 'lass' all the time." She squares her shoulders and covers up her faint disappointment with false bravado typical to the roughly 16 years old she probably is, "Just remember I outrank you!"
He joins the others, gets his rum, and also locates his locker and chats before making other plans for the evening.
After checking her newly "assigned" locker, Thren climbs into her hammock and between a long day of standing and repairing and a dose of rum, easily falls asleep. She dreams of standing on the bowsprit of a mighty ship, the spray of the ocean caressing her face as she watches a Chelish naval ship in the difference burn and sink under the waves.
Lark approaches Rosie. She shrugs and nods, but says, "Like I said, I don't f#**ing wanna talk about this kind of stuff down here."
She looks at him. "You wanna make friends? Come lob the hog with us."
She saunters toward the group throwing the greased block and says, "Step aside, let me show you how it's done!"
She picks up the "hog" and attempts to chuck it along the deck as far as she can.
She surprisingly manages to hold onto it, and it flies and slides about 11 feet before stopping. Not the best night's performance, but successful enough several crew cheer and she is not forced to chug a round as "punishment" for failure.
She looks at you and jerks her head toward the crowd, asking/suggesting you join in.
: Muffin reports the presence of "fish-source-rotten-fruit-smell-male," "high-up-less-rotten-fruit-smell-female" and "large-dog-and-or-man?" He does not indicate a sense of fear or danger. ().
When you yourself approach the stairs to go to the cargo hold, Quarne "the Stitchman" spots you from his berth at the fore of the lower hold and stands up to block your way. "I'm sorry... O'Neill, was it? Crew not on night shift can't leave the lower hold at night, unless you're called up due to an emergency. Cook's mate as of today, yes? I'm sure whatever it was you forgot to do in the galley, you can do it tomorrow."
She looks at you and jerks her head toward the crowd, asking/suggesting you join in [lobbing the hog].
Larks steps forward and addresses Rosie and the audience ”Oh yeah, I’m game.”
”Make room, folks, make room. You are about to witness a feat of strength and skill worthy of tale and song.” As he speaks Larks goes through a series of exaggerated stretches and flexes. ”Watch carefully, for it’s not likely you can emulate my performance, but you’ll want to catch all the details for when your friends demand a retelling.”
Lark hefts the Hog, contorts his body, and snaps forward like a catapult.
Selling the throw
The Hog
The impressive looking throw has most heads turning downrange. Those that manage to keep an eye on the hog see it hang, unmoving, for a breathless instant. Then it smacks down directly on Lark’s foot. Lark did not perfectly place his drop, so he doesn’t have to completely fake the yells of pain as he hops about on one foot. The hopping doesn’t last long before Lark wobbles and then collapses in a heap.
Of course Lee stops when addressed by Quarne.
"Please feel free to call me Lee. And yessir, I was heading to the galley. Thanks for the warning. I do NOT want to violate any rules. No sir, I do not. Though I do have a few questions that you are probably familiar enough with the ship's normal operations to answer. First, who feeds the second watch? They've been sleeping all day so they must eat at night. Second, who gets up before the first watch to prep breakfast? It takes some time to brew tea, after all. And third, can we have someone from second watch just look in on the galley to make sure all is well? I didn't really do any kind of 'shutting down' and while I'm pretty certain we won't burn the ship down, checking would ease my mind."
Lee waits patiently for Quarne to process that last bit.
At this point Lee is curious about the second shift.
Pirates uproariously laugh at Lark's antics, many distracted from the drop by his "show." Any who might notice he did it intentionally don't call him out on it, and may indeed take it as Lark intended--his copping out for feeling unable to compete. He does get pushed and roughed about a bit in the pirates' form of ribbing, but while perhaps a bit unpleasant, it is not hostile.
Cusswell rolls her eyes a bit, but is amused. "At least you tried," she says.
=========================
The middle aged man raises an eyebrow at Lee with a faint smile--which is about as expressive as he ever gets. "Mighty eager to please, aren't you? I'm sure Mr. Plugg appreciates your sort of hard work," Quarne observes, apparently without any sort of irony. "But you needn't worry. The night shift eats what is your dinner for breakfast, taking it to the maindeck with them, and eats your breakfast for dinner on their way to bed. Caulky gets up early to get the water boiling for tea, and wakes Mr. Kroop and Miss Grok, the former to get the officers' breakfast, the latter to open the biscuit box to pass them out. You weren't assigned to be cook's mate until after that happened yesterday, but you'll see how it works as you settle in." He pulls a toke on the pipe he is smoking and breathes out rings. "Don't you worry, young man. Harrigan runs a tighter ship than it might appear at first--and as doctor, I wouldn't abide any process that would make the crew weak, especially those who have to stay up at night." He falls into contemplative silence over his pipe.
Lee will try to gather his companions for a quick confab before turning in. Hopefully they can recap their days and discuss emerging strategy for improving their situation. In private.
You wake up to find, sadly, you are still pressed members of a pirate crew. You head up to report your duty, with only brief time to chat with Lee before he runs off to the Galley.
Once making your departures...
He turns to you. "Now we've finished fixing the damage done by the Chells, I need another hand in the rigging. Whoever gets his honor is whichever of you climbs the topmast the fastest." His tone indicates you do not have a choice in being tested. He asks you to stand on either side of the mast, and when you are ready, he tells you to start.
You report to the galley, where perhaps surprisingly, Kroop stands chopping vegetables as if nothing had happened to him yesterday. Close observation shows he is stiff, but obviously functional.
He smiles as he greets Lee. "Good mornin' Lee. Best get the breakfast dishes washed, and then I need you to clean the fish iin that there bucket. It appears you have ordinary kitchen duties and can work on your cleaning project, or take other action as you see fit.
.