Sweating and swearing, Lucas manages to get the sail ready. To no one in particular, he growls, "Those godless morons better not pull this s%^& in the rigging of the Wormwood, or I'll throw 'em overboard myself!"
Hunting turtles is exhausting work, but at the end of the day, Ambrose has managed to catch enough for the evening meal. "Dinner is served," he says without ceremony, ready to collapse.
Not fatigued from working in the filth of the bilges all day, Atsadi tries to make nice with some of the hostile crew.
"Captain did right by us after taking this ship. When do you think we'll meet up with the rest o' the crew again?"
After the ordeal they had all endured, Ambrose elects to turn in early, once he has prepared his spells.
"Ah, there you are, Azrael," he says, discovering his familiar nested amongst his things. The small bird had managed to keep out of harm's way aboard the Wormwood, but it was good to finally lay eyes on a friendly face, even if that face was covered in feathers. He strokes the bird's red-and-black feathers for a moment before preparing to sleep. Switching to Infernal so that the bird could understand, he laments their situation. "This is a fine mess we are in."
Seeing Atsadi working at the crew, Lucas chimes in where he can.
"A few more raids like that one will do us just fine, eh?"
"As long as Plugg doesn't work our hands to the damn bone, that is."
"Bah, bloody crew." Atsadi looks to Lucas. "We don't have that many fans aboard here. This trip is looking longer and longer...just hope we survive it."
Lucas nods, and thumbs the fletching of one of the arrows in his quiver. "You and the Chel have always been square with me; I got yer back as long as you got mine, Jaws," he smiles grimly.
"So you never told me, how'd you end up in the Shackles, anyway? You're clearly a hell of a long way from home."
Atsadi nods firmly to Lucas in response.
"Ah, a story! It may indeed take some time to tell."
"In a land far, far away was a perfectly clear by surrounded by towering peaks. It provided everything you could want. The trees rang with coconuts, fish filled our nets, and the beaches would be filled with beautiful women. And, most importantly..there was battle. My island brothers would gather arms and sail against fierce serpents, against one another, and against those who lived to the north."
He sighs, looking across the ocean. "But one day...we ventured too far. As a grand champion among men I strode stood at the prow of our ship and we provoked something too great for us. The wrath of a slaver fleet. Men clad in steel bearing great magic outnumbered us and swarmed over our boats. At the end, many of us lay dead in the water or in chains. My own situation was none better. While I had challenged their leader and dealt him a brutal blow, cleaving into his side...it was not enough. He withstood a mortal blow and knocked me out."
"When I awoke.."
Atsadi tries to strike a thoughtful pose, propping one foot on the edge of the boat, elbow on knee and head in hand. "When I awoke...it was to chains and misery. Long days of metal chafing wrists and ankles. Sickness. Hunger. Many of my companions perished in the hold. The slavers were wise and only used sticks to push food close to us..until one was not so wise."
"Taokowan claims it was a gift from the spirits. Manaaki thought it was simply exhaustion from the trip. Me? I believe Besmara smiled upon us, this foreign goddess seeing foreign people and setting a challenge to our hands. We rose to that challenge."
He turns back from the ocean, his mouth bristling with shark fangs and letting out a laugh. "The boy's hand came too close and I took off several fingers, snatching him around the wrist with my teeth! He sobbed and cried, relenting to provide us with the key...and that was their doom. We would not be taken a second time. Fighting to the death, we captured the vessel and had our own ship!"
"We turned the sail home but something caused us to pause. There was gold to be had here, where we were. There were gems as brilliant as home's oceans. There were women, and plunder...and revenge. We sought the slavers companions and turned to piracy!"
That was years ago..."
He shrugs, shouldering a coil of rope for no apparent reason. "And that is the start of the tale of Atsadi, Shark Thief and Beloved of Besmara!"
Lucas listens to Atsadi's tale, his unblinking serpentine eyes following along with every word, glinting with the telling of this tale.
"Hah, yes! I love it! When the time comes, I hope you will add 'Looter of Ghol-Gan' to those titles, much as I plan to do myself. There's fortune and glory to be had in those ruins, and I aim to have them! My father disappeared searching for them, but I will see it done!"
Atsadi laughs, clapping Lucas on the shoulder. "When we buck our shackles, we will pilfer the very stonework from those ruins. Fortune and glory are all we live for, my friend!"
By the way, I meant to tell you.
Lucas loves his rigging, and keeps it in as good a shape as he can.
He has already gone on record saying what a half-assed job the crew of the Man's Promise did with the rigging of the ship, and will do so again a few more times.
Lucas will be especially careful during a storm.
Because it would be a real tragedy if, in the middle of a storm, there was a moment when no one was looking, and something came loose at the wrong time in such a way that it knocked Plugg or Scourge overboard, and they were lost at sea before anyone could do anything about it.
Yeah, a real tragedy...
(Acceptable, if not optimal, consolation prize in this effort would be any of the crew who are strongly pro-Plugg/anti-us.)
Lucas spends another day swinging through the rigging of the Man's Promise, keeping things in order, doing his best to lift spirits and help others with thier tasks , and doing his damnedest to establish a bit more rapport with the other crew members.
Ambrose again sets out to hunt turtles. After the practice he had had the day before, he fares much better, though he is beginning to tire of the same dish. Plugg and Scourge were becoming intolerable, but instead of grumbling, he decides to do something about it. As he had done early on to brigade of patsies, Ambrose cooks a special batch of bilgewater punch for Plugg, casting what was quickly becoming his favorite cantrip to cover his tracks. [I]"This should put our captain in his proper place. Would you not agree, Azrael?"
Atsadi will spend his day working diligently.
As tired as Ambrose was from hunting and cooking turtles, there were others doing far more work, and it did not take much prodding to encourage them to share their frustrations. Sometimes, making allies was as easy as saying nothing at all.
Lucas looks around the deck, and if he sees Atsadi or Ambrose, makes that sort of gesture-with-his-eyes motion that says, "I'm going over there."
Lucas felt a twinge of relief that Quinn seemed to be on his and his allies' side. That wasn't to say he trusted her as he did the other two, but she'd played it relatively straight with them, and Lucas took this as a sign he had not been forsaken by the Queen at this ignoble start to his career as a pirate.
Lucas stands next to Sandara, leans over the rail, and looks out at the sea. "Good evening, Miss Quinn. Are you having as much fun here on the Man's Promise as I am?"
Ever since setting foot on the Man's Promise, Ambrose had wanted nothing more than to retreat to his bunk and sleep (except possibly to take revenge on Captain Harrigan and put Plugg, Scourge, and the rest of them in their proper place). They had fumbled any opportunity they might have had during the battle to turn the tables in their favor, and the situation worsened by the day. So when Sandara Quinn motions conspiratorially, his ire is piqued almost as much as his interest. Glowering, he saunters over to join the growing party on the prow. "Would that we could all have as much fun as you," he says mirthlessly as he walks up. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
After yet another long day working in the bilges, Atsadi's care-free grin is a frown. He follows the other two with a small scowl.
Unlike the other two, he doesn't say a word and just leans against the ship's railing, spitting over the side.
Sandra's revelation is greeted with a low growl. "That's not something I'm keen on happening."
He glances to Lucas, lowering his voice a bit. "Do we have any idea how many of the crew are...equally dissatisfied?"
At Sandara's revelation, Lucas' pleasant facade drops, rapidly replaced with a scowl. Plugg barely tolerated the three of them as it was currently, for reasons that had never entirely been clear to the tiefling. Some guys are just born a%##*$&s, he muses to himself.
"Do we have any idea how many of the crew are...equally dissatisfied?"
Lucas raises an eyebrow. "Barely enough that I feel okay going to sleep at night," he replies, "But as for hard numbers, I’m not sure."* Lucas takes another look around and, assuming no one else is within earshot, continues in a low voice. "My impression is that most of these guys follow him out of fear, not loyalty. If something were to… happen to him, I’d wager the only other one we’d have a real problem with is Scourge." Looking over at Ambrose’s scowling visage, he says, "Any thoughts from the Butcher of Westcrown?"
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The Butcher of...? Ambrose's scowl only deepens with the nickname, and thin tendrils of smoke begin to leak from the corners of his red-on-black eyes as he turns his baleful gaze on his fellow tiefling. He bares his teeth at Lcase as he carefully enunciates his words. "I am Lieutenant Ambrose Lucien Trelawney Jeggare, of the Korvosan Jeggares, and I am many things. I am hellspawn. I am Asmodean. For the moment, I may even be a pirate. But mark my words carefully, I am no damned " He punctuates the last word with a sharp exhale of smoke, stinking like brimstone, and after a moment, he releases his hand from the sword he did not realize he was gripping.
At an earlier time, a younger Ambrose might not have thought twice about drawing steel over such an insult. But it was that recklessness and lack of discipline that had gotten the spoiled aristocrat pressed into service aboard ship in the first place. It could thus be said that that is what arrived him at his current predicament, forced to serve aboard his second pirate ship in under a month, serving under an absolute brute of a captain who would not be fit to shine shoes in Korvosa. Of all the abominable places in the Inner Sea that Ambrose would rather be, even Cheliax would be a step up from the Shackles.
After a few moments of deep breathing and scornful glowering, the more even-tempered Lieutenant Jeggare comes to bear. "But I believe I agree with your assessment. There is little love lost between our Captain Plugg and our fellows, save for the likes of Ms. Bansion, Ms. Lonegan, and Messers Chumlett and Jape." Looking back to Sandara, he raises the obvious question. "What do you propose to do about it?"
"Bah, you wouldn't be wrong there. Fear is a good motivator though!"
Lucas's needling of Ambrose seems to bring a smile back to the pirate's face. "The more you insist against it, the more entertaining it'll be to call you on it, Jeggare."
He looks back to the Sandara and shrugs. "Maybe we can just kill them all while they sleep?"
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Lucas frowns for a moment in thought. "Wait a minute," he says as he turns to Atsadi, "You were the one who told me he was from Westcrown!" He breaks into a grin, too appreciative of the joke to be pissed.
Ambrose's eyes flick back and forth between Atsadi and Lucas, but Atsadi makes a good point. Electing to ignore them, he focuses on Ms. Quinn's revelations. "A well-executed coup would certainly be preferable to whatever Plugg might have in store for us. There is the added benefit that it removes us out from under Harrigan's thumb once and for all. I am surprised I had not thought of it myself." For weeks now he had prayed to Asmodeus for an opportunity to put his captors in their rightful place; it seemed that his prayers might just have been answered.
"If we are to do this, we will not have long to enact our plan once it has begun, perhaps a day to take proper account of our strength and disseminate the plan to our allies. I considered serving the captain a cup of bilgewater grog this evening, but thought better of it. Slipping him a special drink is not possible, but poisoning the whole batch might just work. Do we think we can all fake an evening's drink?"
A sly smile crosses the shark-kin's face and he lifts his arms in a shrug. "Atsadi says a lot of things, Lucas, my friend."
Sandra's explanation brings a worried look. "No, she does not. Mutiny is something I could get behind with that sort of news. Treachery for treachery. I do like that idea, Jeggare and wouldn't mind starting off on a solid food. What kind of poison would you use?"
Lucas nods thoughtfully at Sandara's comment. "An awful lot of angry faces among the crew," he says. "But if we can't get 'em t'help us, maybe we can at least get them to sit that dance out when it's time...?"
"We should use what time we have to get a few of those angry faces as friends then, yeah? Then maybe we can win a fight."
Lucas looks back out over the deck of the Man's Promise. "Any thoughts on who to approach first?"
Ambrose does an admirable job of stifling the urge to retch as the pirate priestess fingers her holy symbol. Despite what she stood for, she was the truest ally they had to count on at the moment, and alienating her would do them no favors. His personal feelings on pirates and piracy could be dealt with later, when he was no longer at their mercy.
"It sounds that we have a plan of action then. The enemy has us surrounded. That makes this simpler." With help from the others, he draws up a list of potentials that might be easily turned to their cause.
With something resembling the makings of the beginnings of a plan in place, Lieutenant Jeggare rests a tad bit easier. Still, he does not much care for the idea of waiting any longer than they need to. Fate had a way of tossing tempests at Ambrose that had a tendency to waylay his plans, and he is not keen on leaving another opening.
Atsadi has few ideas, but provides what insight he can to Jeggare's plan. "A few approaches, smart comments...this sounds good, Ambrose. We will make do with what we can manage and feed all others to my seabound brethren."
Lucas gets up in the rigging, and although he can barely see his hand in front of his face, he perseveres, and encourages his shipmates to stick with it. "C'mon, men! No storm can stop us!"
Atsadi keeps close to Lucas, knowing if one of them slips or starts to fall asleep the other could try to help. He makes no complaints, gritting his teeth and looking into the storm.
"Lucas, keep an eye out for anyone going overboard!"
Atsadi swings from the rigging, battered by rain and ropes against the mast. "Why the hell did Plugg put me up here.." He grumbles while struggling to disentangle himself from some stray, flaying seaweed.