"I just want to get back into a position where I'm not getting flogged or set up for a flogging," quips Ravenna, as she flips her dagger in the air and catches it. "If you have a plan or just a big group looking to make that possible, I'm in."
"Six we are already. More will be recruited. I'll heal wounds after the Bloody Hour, and me and Veltisiel will try our luck with Owlbear later. The more people like us, the easier we'll gain the upper hand. With some patience. And keep an eye out for anyone who frowns at our Scourge and Plugg, they could be staunch allies."
Veltisiel stays silent for much of the discussion, watching the others.
Good. So I have allies.
"I will do what I can. I am... eager to turn the tables on our captors and making them pay for their capture of us." he thinks for a moment, "Does anyone know where the captain keeps the ship's treasury? We could pull off quite the heist between the six of us to repay our work done."
"I have not either. I have tried to befriend the quartermaster, but don't feel I've made much progress. I will continue to try to determine who are allies," Grak replies.
It is difficult to tell time in the bilges, and it is hot as hell and so humid it feels like swimming. Nonetheless, this is usually the work of two swabs, so a day in the bilges for all of you is not a terribly difficult day. As the night bell rings the end of your shift, you scrabble back above decks, dire rat bodies in tow.
Plugg and Scourge seem noticably irritated by your reappearance, apparently hoping at least one of you would be eaten by whatever had attacked their dwarven ally.
You have a chance to interact with the crew during dinner (which is a terrible stew of turtle and goat made without the aid of the cook's helper).
After your dinner, Plugg rings the bell and calls out to the crew, "Well now, let's all take a moment to cebrelate our rat-catching heroes! Apparently, they are toughter than poor Narwhal. Well, then, let's see how tough they are. I'm a bringin' out my own pet, way toughter than a big rat...he's a OWLBEAR!!!!!"
At that, Scourge pulls upon a chain and Owlbear Hartshorn stumbles out of the hold and onto the deck. "For a bit-o-sport, I dare one of our rat killin' heroes to take on Owlbear in a battle o bare knuckle fists or wrestling. No magic tricks. No weapons. To make it interesting, I'll wager 100 gold pieces on the winner."
Owlbear is a large man with meaty fists. He is almost entirely hairless and bears the signs of the tarring and feathering he received shortly before you were brought on board.
Well, there goes my plan.
Raush cracks his neck and his wide hands, sizing up Owlbear. "Unless one of you wants the honor and glory, I think that's for me."
Ratcatcher wouldn't be half bad a name for a ship.
Veltisiel quickly ducks below deck, visiting the quartermaster below as the match prepares to start, "Hey, Grok. I don't suppose I could take a quick loan out, do you? Just, say, 200 gold? I'll pay it back with interest later tonight."
Whether successful or not, he returns to the top deck within a few minutes (wagering his loan if successful), and nods to Raush, "Go for it. I've seen you fight. He doesn't stand a chance."
Grak moves over next to Raush. "This is all you. Just remind him that we have no choice and to not take it personally. If you offer to heal him later, maybe he will forgive you," he says quietly.
Stepping to the front of the group to be seen and heard, Grak attempts to gain Plugg's attention. "I'm afraid that I only have 3 gold pieces right now, but I know how to create things like acid and sunrods. Perhaps you would be willing to accept my services as our side of the wager," he asks.
Grok will loan Veltisiel 50 gp with a chuckle and a "When you lose that, I'm taking it out of your hide."
Plugg responds to Grak, "Boy, everything you are already belongs to me. You can't bet what you don't have."
Raush and Owlbear step into a circle formed by the surrounding crew. The crew is excited by the bloodsport. This is certainly the most exciting thing to happen on the ship since you have been aboard.
Owlbear comes off as a lumbering fighter, moving slowly and heavily, but his blows carry the force of a heavyweight. His fist sails over Raush's head, barely avoiding a devastating blow.
Ordrax continues to look over the rats as the others talk of the future. He lifts a rat up and looks it over and then drops it back into the water. He scans the water again and responds without looking up.
Equipment I can get...when the time is right. There are allies all around if one is willing to listen and watch. We each of met some that are willing to jump sides...more are needed.
Ordrax turns around holding a rat in one hand.
He looks at those that have fought the rats.
The captain most likely keeps the ships treasury close to his quarters. The quartermaster has several items of interest as most of you know already. The two wooden lockers contain lots of equipment. Which one would assume belongs to us that were taken as slaves. There are two wooden chest and a wooden trunk. Kept out of sight is an iron trunk. All of which can be opened...given enough time and a bit of luck.
He steps forward towards the others.
It is not the right time to make any move on the quartermaster....not yet. I agree that we should keep our eyes and ears open to see who is on scourge's side and who is not. There are two Halflings that may be of use. The female will be very interested in helping...I do not know much about the other one just yet. Scourge and his cronies are just itching for any reason to feel superior at our expanse. If the Drow have taught me anything it is that when you are around people like them...you shut your mouth and swallow your pride. Do what needs to be done and wait for the correct time to act. The less attention you draw to yourself, the more you can see and hear.
When the fight and gambling starts, Ordrax sits and watches. He tries his best to be involved just enough to keep him off of others notice.
Disappointed he can't wager more, Grak puts up his 3 gold as a wager that Raush will win.
Damn, he's good.
Dodging Owlbear's first hit by a hair, Raush answers with two quick jabs to the center of mass, trying to get a feeling for the opponent's pattern.
Stamina. Strength requires mass, mass requires blood, blood costs wind. Outlast him. Lady of the Sea, see if I am swift and strong.
Raush connects with both jabs to Owlbear's gut. The big man is strong but slow. He is unable to avoid the swift blows from the vanara.
Owlbear does the only thing he knows, swinging with a massive right hook.
The strange man connects with his blow, shaking the vanara's body.
Raush wheezes as the blow pushes air out of his lungs. Queen, but is he strong. Attrition. Breathing.
His swings are off balance, as he raises his guard to dodge every possible blow.
Grak winces when Owlbear connects, hoping that Raush can wear the large man down before he connects again.
Veltisiel watches helplessly from the side, wishing desperately there was something he could do.
|
Wade frowns, what had initially seemed like a sure bet didn't seem like one anymore.
One of his rules to live by flashes through his mind never bet on the lame horse unless you can shoot the healthy one: shooting the lame one and betting on the healthy one is it even better bet He wonders how subtle a hex would be to those uninitiated in magic, and quietly looks around for anyone casting detect magic
Ordrax appears to be watching the fight. His eyes roam around to see who is watching who as he tries to see who is pulling what strings.
Under the punishing blows of Raush's fists, Owlbear recoils. He scuttles backwards, eyes on Raush but feet clearly trying to retreat into the crowd. Plugg meets him at the edge of the circle, forcing a club into his hand and pushing him back into the circle. The look in Owlbear's eye's makes his fear obvious, but he swings the club through the air, clearly more afraid of Plugg than he is of Raush.
As the massive man moves in, swinging his club defensively at Raush. Fortunately for all of you, the ape-man is faster in his attack. Raush attacks in a careful, guarded fashion, but even then he easily penetrates the Owlbear's defenses. Another blow connects with the man's torso, and an uppercut connects with his chin in a truly devastating blow, snapping his head back. Owlbear's eyes roll into his head so hard he must see his brain as he falls to the deck of the ship. The cheering crowd is suddenly silenced.
"Well, excellent work, monkey man. The purse is yours. The rest of you, time to settle in."
Raush grabs the purse with a smirk and a slight bow. "No magic, no weapons, no problem. Get up, big guy. You are strong enough for Besmara's grace."
One hand over Owlbear's chest, he channels respite, healing force mending a few of his bruises.
Grak's brow furls when Plugg gives Owlbear the club. "That's not fair," he thinks to himself, looking around to see if anyone else feels the same way.
He cheers when the big man is put down. "Well done, Raush," he says as he looks around to see if anyone else is happy with the outcome.
As the healing energy washes through him, Owlbear's eyes snap open and he smiles like a child waking from a happy dream. "Thank Raush."
Plugg goes out of his way to kick Owlbear as he lies on the deck, clearly unhappy with the man.
The crew seems surprised more than anything, not clearly pleased now dismayed.
Grak collects his winnings and grabs his bottle of rum, looking around for someone to celebrate with. He finds a spot next to Kipper.
"That was some fight, huh. Fortunately, I was down in the bilges with Raush and saw how well he handles himself with his fists. The names, Grak, by the way. I've seen you around but haven't caught your name. It looks like your job is more important than mine since I haven't seen you swabbing the deck or handling the ropes. What do you do on the ship?" he asks.
Veltisiel returns his loan to Grok with a smile, and flips her another gold coin for interest. Once that's done, he makes a new friend with someone who seems talkative. If nobody seems particularly friendly, he seeks out Samms again, hoping for a... friendly face.
Raush helps Owlbear get up and pats him on a shoulder as if to say "nice fight".
After checking out that the coins are effectively a hundred, he moves over to Rosie Cusswell. "I'll have a nice bruise on my shoulder, but Plugg's face was quite worth it. Rosie, are you? You got press-ganged like the rest of us, or maybe there's another story?"
Grak collects his winnings and grabs his bottle of rum, looking around for someone to celebrate with. He finds a spot next to Kipper.
"That was some fight, huh. Fortunately, I was down in the bilges with Raush and saw how well he handles himself with his fists. The names, Grak, by the way. I've seen you around but haven't caught your name. It looks like your job is more important than mine since I haven't seen you swabbing the deck or handling the ropes. What do you do on the ship?" he asks.
[dice=Diplomacy]1d20-1
Kipper is a wiry young man whose hands are pocked with gunpowder scars. He has a relatively beautiful smile for a sailor, but his nose shows a few ancient breaks. He has a habit of chewing orange peels.
Kipper puffs up a little at the flattery from Grak, even though it isn't very smooth. Kipper smiles at Grak with the smile of a crocodile, which Grak completely fails to notice.
"Name's Kipper, and I'm the gunner's mate. The monkey has good hands. It's a strange bunch we picked up in Port Peril. You'll get to see my work soon enough, once we get into the trade lanes and find prey. I'd watch meself getting on Plugg's bad side. Man has a mean streak fathoms long."
"Wonder what got lice in his bed," says Ravenna of Plugg. "Or maybe he just enjoys cruelty. Probably the latter."
Veltisiel returns his loan to Grok with a smile, and flips her another gold coin for interest. Once that's done, he makes a new friend with someone who seems talkative. If nobody seems particularly friendly, he seeks out Samms again, hoping for a... friendly face.
[dice=Diplomacy]1d20+7+2
Veltisiel catches the eye of a jaunty gnome wearing a purple hat with a massive feather sticking out of it. This is Conchobar Shortstone, as he proudly declares with a sweeping bow and flourish of his hat.
"I was, at first, most dismayed to find myself pressed onto the Wormwood, but after a few days, it seems the beginning of a fine adventure. I have to say, the food is better than I expected, thanks to the cook, as it were. I should think that you will have opportunities for advancement if you keep nose clean."
He seems to have little memory of suffering at the hands of the crew.
Raush helps Owlbear get up and pats him on a shoulder as if to say "nice fight".
After checking out that the coins are effectively a hundred, he moves over to Rosie Cusswell. "I'll have a nice bruise on my shoulder, but Plugg's face was quite worth it. Rosie, are you? You got press-ganged like the rest of us, or maybe there's another story?"
[dice=Diplomacy]1d20-1+4
"Well, you see, I was drinking away on the streets of my native Peril, born and bred in the heart of the Shackles, when a great bird swooped down and plucked me up, dropping me here on the Wormwood."
Rosie is an auburn haired halfling spitfire. "Naaa. F$$!ing drugged, robbed, and stuck on this tub. I wish they'd let me get my fists on Scourge's face."
Raush chuckles at Rosie's sarcasm. "Who knows, perhaps the day will come soon. But don't take this the wrong way, my fists may fit better than yours."
Ordrax tries his best to keep his distance from the the others and keep his eyes open for trouble. I guess it is time to wake up early from now on. Do not want to be falling asleep or take a knife in my sleep.
Kipper is a wiry young man whose hands are pocked with gunpowder scars. He has a relatively beautiful smile for a sailor, but his nose shows a few ancient breaks. He has a habit of chewing orange peels.
Kipper puffs up a little at the flattery from Grak, even though it isn't very smooth. Kipper smiles at Grak with the smile of a crocodile, which Grak completely fails to notice.
"Name's Kipper, and I'm the gunner's mate. The monkey has good hands. It's a strange bunch we picked up in Port Peril. You'll get to see my work soon enough, once we get into the trade lanes and find prey. I'd watch meself getting on Plugg's bad side. Man has a mean streak fathoms long."
Grak nods in agreement. "Yeah, I've already experienced Plugg's punishment. I imagine most on the ship have. He does seem to enjoy it a bit too much. How much longer till we get into the trade lanes? What types of weaponry do you use against the other ships?" he says with interest.
"There are catapults and ballista, but those are primarily for defense. For prey, we mostly pursue and board. We might use the ballista to foul the lines or sails. We try to avoid firing what might be valuable."
Grak nods in agreement. "Sure, don't want to damage the goods. So what do we attack them with when we board, our bare hands?" he says, holding his up. "While I can create wonderful things with these, fighting with them is not my strong suit. Did you know how to operate the siege weapons before coming aboard or did you learn once you were here?"
"By the way" continues Raush, after taking a sip of the rancid grog "I've heard you were lookin' for a violin, and to tell truth I'm yearning for a few shanties. What say you I lend the money, so that we can sing somewhat in the evenings?"
To Grak: "When the time comes, Plugg will issue weapons from the store. It may even be that we will practice boarding at some point before it happens for real. Depends on how the Captain feels. As for the position, I was a rigger and then I caught Krine's (the Master Gunner) eye when the former gunner's mate caught a crossbow bolt in the gut."
To Raush: Rosie is pretty vocal about wanting her fiddle, so it isn't much of a stretch to say are aware of that.
"Hot damn, Lord Primate. That would be the best thing since rum...I don't know what kind of singing voice you have, but we can get up to all kinds fun."
"Not a great voice, I fear. But I'm a decent listener." And anything that wins people's hearts is worth some dough.
On the morning after the great owlbear battle, the sun rises on towering thunderheads off to the north. By the time you begin your daily assignments, rain falls heavily from the skies. The work of the day goes well enough, but the evenings activities are subdued as the rain continues.
Grak does his best to complete his tasks for the day, given the weather. After dinner he searches out Krine.
"That's some storm out there today. How long before it passes do you think? I'm Grak. I understand you are the Master Gunner on the ship. An interest in siege weapons is what brought me to Port Peril. If you are ever looking for another gunner's mate, I'd be interested in learning."
As the rain reminds him of the Mwangi, Raush works rather merrily through the day. At lunchtime, he makes a quick trip to Grok. "Uhm, hello. I'll be buying that violin-" Vengeful Queen, that much? And I can't very well threaten her... "and, well, no chance you'd cut down the price, eh? Guessed so."
He thunks down the gold bag, somehow regretting the word given. Bloody Pintsize better be a master musician.
"Ah, this ain't much of a rain, just a hint of a drizzle, a summer shower! We'll get sun all day tomorrow."
Grak is apparently one of the most unpleasant hobgoblins ever to walk Golarion. Or maybe Krine has just had a bad day and is irritable at being damp. Whatever the reason, she does not take well to his approach.
She turns to Grak, raising her fists.
"Crew assignments on the Wormwood be made by the Captain, swab." She balls her fist and takes a swing at Grak...
nonlethal
connecting firmly with an uppercut, leaving Grak surprised at the outburst.
Grak's eyes get wide when she throws a punch at him. Completely caught off guard, he is frozen and can do nothing but wait for the punch to hit him. Catching him squarely in the chin, it snaps his head back and he stumbles backward. He reaches up to his mouth to check for blood, a stunned look on his face. "What was that for? Somebody piss in your rum?" he says angrily and prepares to defend himself if she tries to hit him again.
"Stay where you belong, Grak." She throws her nearly empty cup at Grak's feet and lunges toward her quarters.
The next day is wet again the rain increasing in intensity and the wind raging.
But two days after the confrontation with Riaris Krine, the storm truly rages. The morning bell rings early, pulling you from an exhausted sleep. By the time you make your way onto the deck you are already soaked, those parts that you had managed to dry from yesterday. Scourge doles out your assignments:
"Today, all hands will be on rigging details. Gozreh is reaching out to smash up today, and them as are not careful may end up in the drink."
Grak decides to keep to himself the next day for fear of someone else attacking him out of nowhere.
The 3rd day of rain is starting to get to him as he wonders how long this storm will last. "Can't we move out of this?" he thinks to himself as he tries to climb to fix the rigging but he can't keep his footing on the slippery wood and ropes.