The Crescent Watch marches the prisoners through town. Interestingly (and perhaps ominously), they bypass the closer North Jail and continue escorting the captives to the larger, more secure South Jail. There, the prisoners are frisked before being secured in cells. Jarvis is fitted with a small pair of manacles to hinder any potential spellcasting; Aghon's bracelets, likewise, are left on. Jordan's manacles are removed.
Culder and his intimidating anchor are given their own small cell in the subterranean cellblock. The other three members of the party share a larger cell across the room.
In the deepest hour of the night, with the prisoners all sleeping uncomfortably on the cool floors of their cells, some special visitors are given brief access to the cellblock. The men (and halfling) are all briefly awakened from their slumber by confident chanting from a gruff female voice before an unnatural and deep sleep again takes them all.
When they next awaken, they're quite disoriented. All is dark, they're wet and cold, and the world around them seems to be rocking gently. There's a faint acrid smell like acid mixed with the salty air of the sea.
"Ah-ha! Our sleepin' beauties be comin' back 'round! Won't they be in fer a surprise come mornin'!" chuckles an evil-sounding male voice. "Gonna spell 'em again, Mage Lady?"
"Ain't necessary," coos a sultry female voice. "I had plenty o' time ta truss 'em up good! These boys'll be lucky ta wiggle a finger, let alone slip my bonds."
Indeed, the captives find their ankles, wrists, arms, and legs all expertly bound with multiple lengths of soft yet sturdy rope. In addition, each is blindfolded and gagged, wearing only their normal clothes, now rather wet. Culder notices a decided lack of familiar weight on his anchor-bound hand and the smell of acid is strongest in his nostrils: his signature prized anchor is gone, leaving only a single link of chain around his wrist.
After what is likely a barge ride across the harbor, the kidnapped men are offloaded only to be seized by rough hands and carried up what seems to be a gangplank, then tossed unceremoniously in a hold.
It's a typical loud, raucous night of alcohol-fueled bedlam at the Formidably Maid in mainland Port Peril. Pirates, sailors, and more pirates drink, laugh, plot, and even occasionally sing the night away. As closing draws near, members of a certain pirate crew help three of their senseless mates back to their quarters aboard the Wormwood. Few at the tavern knew or cared that the three unconscious folks hadn't arrived with the Wormwood's people, weren't their crewmates, and had, in fact, been drugged and press-ganged.
What happens in Port Peril stays in Port Peril...until it's shipped out, that is.
The unconscious folk were stripped of all gear save the clothes they wore, were bound hand and foot, and were laid out in a dark hold to sleep off what had been slipped into their drinks. The three victims were a strapping human sailor, a mustachioed gnome wearing the foppish clothes of a dandy, and a rather plain-looking fellow who was actually a sorcerer.
An hour later, four more bound bodies were delivered to the hold. Shortly thereafter, the Wormwood rocked to life and sailed out of Port Peril, its destination known only to a privileged few.
When the press-gangers remove your blindfolds and gags, you find yourselves in what appears to be a spacious ship's hold, though much of the space between the walls, masts, and support columns is currently occupied by over a dozen rope hammocks hanging from these supports. Dark, snoring forms fill many of them.
A hooded lantern reveals the faces of some of your captors: A scowling dusky-skinned man stands with an even darker-skinned woman almost as tall as the imposing man, their arms encircling one another's waists; a fat, ugly man wearing a bandana and sweating profusely grunts that he's off to bed as he waddles into the darkness at the far end of the hold; a grinning half-orc, his skin a glowing yellow-green in the lantern's light, sits on the nearby steps watching the proceedings with amusement; a smirking, leggy, dark-haired woman looks down and comments that she hopes her knots aren't too uncomfortable before wishing you all "Sweet dreams"; and last, a dangerous-looking fellow in a dark, flowing coat with a whip coiled on his belt offers a mirthless smile before saying, "Welcome to the Wormwood, me swabbies! Get what little sleep ye can--ye'll need it fer tomorrow and the days beyond!"
"Ugh--Oh, I say--wherever in the world am I and who are you ruffians?" The words come from a tied-up gnome dandy lying nearby.
"Release me right now, you...you ruffians!" the angry gnome squeaks. "Do you not know who I am? I'm Conchobhar Turlach Shortstone--famous bard and minstrel! You can't just treat me like...."
"Whaddaya call a gnome bard?" calls out a sleepy voice from the far end of the hold. "A troubadork!" the same voice adds a moment later. This brings a few laughs and chuckles from other crewmen but more than a few grumbles of "Shut up!" and "Stow yer clack!" from grumpy would-be sleepers.
A moment later the lantern's hood is closed and the hold is plunged into darkness.
Aghon rubs his eyes, his jaw, his hands, and wrists as much as he's able. Then he looks around for his friends, and seeing them all present and accounted for, whispers. Well, all things considered, it could be worse. We're alive, we're aboard a ship, and there are a couple of nice looking women aboard. He looks directly at Jarvis, and offers him a wink and his patented debonair smirk. Also, there's more than one minstrel aboard, so we should have no short supply of rousing pirate-themed ballads.
"Aye, 'cause ballads'll get us out of this," Jordan mutters, his head clearing. "Shoulda known there wouldn't be that much law in a pirate town," he continues, looking about the room. Groggy though he might have seemed, his head held only one thought, to escape and continue his journey.
The woman who bound the prisoners did her job well--there's no escape. An hour passes and the two unconscious folks awaken. A few hours later, a bell tolls above decks, the sleeping crew get up, fold their hammocks, and clamber up on deck, and the ship you're on leaves port. You're left in total darkness to contemplate your fates for another two hours before a dozen pirates open the hold hatch and climb down the stairs.
The whipmaster in the trenchcoat stays near the top of the stairs, sneering down and barking orders to his underlings to untie the prisoners. While two pirates train their crossbows on the group, seven more scamper forward and begin working on the knots binding the captives; two more with saps in hand stand at the ready in case there's any trouble. The leader atop the stairs takes this time to address you.
”On yer feet, lubbers! The only sound I wanna hear out o’ ye is yer feet slappin’ against the stairs! Git up on deck and report fer duty before Cap’n Harrigan flays yer flesh inta sausage skins and has fat ol’ Fishguts fry ye up fer breakfast!”
His underlings untie ankles and legs first before removing the bonds on your arms and wrists. As soon as they finish the task, they draw saps. A couple whisper, "Don't resist."
Captain Harrigan is a ruthless and notorious Free (Pirate) Captain of the Shackles.
This includes the brass knuckles you're supposed to have via your campaign trait. This situation will be remedied soon, however.
Jordan stood on his feet, a little unsteadily. He stood for a second, rubbing feeling back into his hands and feet. Keeping his head low, he followed his new shipmates up the stairs.
"How does it feel to be back to see, Cap'n?" he mutters to Culder, as they head out onto the deck.
As Jordan stands, so, too, do two of the other captives--the sailor and dandyish gnome. The human bends quickly, retrieving what was his gag earlier. As he ties the dark bandana atop his head, he looks about the hold in wonder. "So this is the Wormwood...." he says in an awed whisper. The next moment, though, he's heading up the stairs.
The gnome, however, seems to have had his feathers ruffled. "Where is my hat?" he demands, crossing his arms in defiance.
"Ye'll git yer hat if and when the Cap'n sees fit ta give it to ye!" the whipmaster snarls from the stairs, uncoiling his weapon. "Now git yer butt in gear, Fancypants!"
The gnome utters a miffed "Hmph!" but starts slowly up the wooden steps.
sitting up, Vincent look's around the hull blankly. He then look's down at his bound arm's and legs and let's out a long sigh. He then looks down at one of his upturned hand's and then flex's his hand towards himself causing small sparks of electricity to pulse in the palm of his hand. Seeing the comforting force of his own magic, his face almost breaks into a small smirk.
When the guard comes over to unlock his hand's and feet victor just stares blankly at the man, and stands up rubbing his wrist's and then follows the rest of his fellow captives up the stairs, muttering "should've known there was a catch when then told me they could give me a free ride to the next port"
my anchor best be on th'ship, else I'm gonna kill every mother-frakking last one o' these dogs... Gotta wait, tho... can't take 'em all at once, 'specially not without my stuff... keep it together and I can start murderin' one a night while they sleep...
Culder grits his teeth and stands, very purposefully taking slow deep breaths. To Jordan's quiet question he answers (somewhat loudly), "bein' back t'sea suits me jus' fine. Someone 'ere mus' be awful stupid, tho, t'put so much work into gettin' me here fer a job I woulda signed on fer."
Gods I hate having ropes about my wrists. Chafing bastards. Jarvis thinks to himself as he rubs the pressure marks from his bare wrists. He adapted quickly to the roll and heave of the deck, his sea legs never really having disappeared.
Fine ship you have here! He says, as jovially as he can muster. His eyes roam over the ship looking for any sign of familiarity. What'd you say her name was? He tries to leverage his experience as sailor to spot anything useful about the ship. His eyes scan everything he can see, trying to make mental notes of the layout, location of things like fids, rope storage, hatches, and the like.
Aghon joins the rest of his mates climbing the stairs to the ship's deck. When he gets to the top and smells the fresh salty sea air, he smiles from ear to ear. Prisoner or not, it feels good to be in motion on the water. He then looks to the whipmaster, and gives him an impish grin. Sooooooooo, what's on the duty roster for today master? Swabbin' the poop deck? Scrapin' barnacles? I've got some carpentry experience if you need some mending. He spits in his right hand and then rubs his hands together vigorously to spread the sludge evenly across his calloused palms. Just point me where you want me, and I'm off like a dirty shirt.
Most of the pirate crew has stopped working to view the arrival of the new recruits. Two officers stand imperiously on a raised deck at the stern of the ship.
”Well, well—if it isn’t the new blood! Welcome to the Wormwood! I hope you’re worth the handful of coins I paid my ‘recruiter’ in the Crescent Watch. You men look like you’ve some promise.”
The speaker is a tall, broad, muscular bald man of Mwangi descent. He wears an exotic mix of studded leather armor and currently has a wicked handaxe dangling from his belt. A leather eyepatch studded with gems covers his left eye and his long beard is braided neatly, dangling about half way to his belt.
”Allow me to introduce myself—I’m Captain Barnabas Harrigan…not that you’ll ever need to address me. I have only one rule—don’t speak to me. I like talk, but not your talk, if you understand my meaning. Follow that rule and we’ll get along fine.” Turning to a prematurely-balding fellow with his long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, he adds, ”They’re all yours, Mr. Plugg.”
”A great man, our captain…YOUR captain,” Plugg says to the press-ganged recruits, a cat-o’-nine-tails swaying softly from one hand like an incoming tide. ”A man of few words and fewer rules. I’ve got a few, though, ye lubbers, so open yer lugholes and pay heed! First—when I tell ye swabs to jump, I expect ye to ask ‘How high?’ My name’s Mister Plugg and my right-hand man is Scourge—Master Scourge—but we’ll get along better if the only words I hear leak outta yer yappers be ‘Yessir!’ and ‘Right away, sir!’…mark me? Don’t mark me words and Scourge’ll mark ye, with a rope bash or three fer small infractions and 3 ta 6 lashes with his whip for medium screw-ups and insubordination. Piss either of us off enough and we’ll send ye to the sweatbox for a day or introduce ye to the Cap’n’s daughter—she’s one spiteful b****, ye’ll find. And since we’re a bit short on crew—even with the recent additions from the Formidably Maid and the Crescent Harbor jail—there’ll be no takin’ of another crewman’s life…even if they be deservin’ death. Murder’s punishable by a swift and painful keelhaulin’.”
”Answer the bell real prompt-like in the mornin’, work hard all day, drink yer grog after supper, and keep yer noses outta other folks’ business and ye scupperlouts might just earn the moniker of ‘pirate,’ savvy? Now yer first test! I need one or two new riggers. All of ye—climb up the riggin’ ta the crow’s nest like the monkeys ye are! GO!”
Right away, sir! Jarvis says with gusto, thrilled to have an opportunity to get back into the rigging of a ship. He starts slowly, testing the ropes as best he can before launching himself up the rigging with well-practiced purpose. As he clambers into the crow's nest, he lets out an excited whoop. Drawing in a deep breath he revels in the salty sea air.
Culder very quickly scurries up the rigging with the practiced precision of a seasoned sailor. Unlike Jarvis he says nothing and shows no enthusiasm over the endeavor.
Clicking his heels together, Jordan throws a mock salute, shouting "Aye aye, sah!" before hurrying up the rigging after Culder. Despite their situation, it felt good to get some exercise after being stuck in that musty cell and dank hold.
Though he wasn't a sailor, climbing wasn't new to Jordan. Hurrying up to the crows nest, he paused for a moment to look out over the horizon, and then back down at the activity on the ship before finishing his climb.
;)
Aghon watches as Jordan and Culder scurry up the rigging like jungle monkies and then turns to mister Plugg. Well boss, looks like you got yer two right there, so... really, no reason for me to risk life and limb climbing, right? Did I mention I am an experienced carpenter? Aghon realizes this may, in fact, warrant a quick lashing, and while he isn't looking forward to that, he also realizes that taking a lashing, and continuing to have a positive attitude can soften even the hardest of masters, having witnessed it himself on previous vessels.
"ALL of ye climb!" Plugg howls as Aghon hesitates to speak his mind. Master Scourge steps forward, whip raised at Aghon's hesitation, but the words 'experienced carpenter' cause him to pause and look to Plugg.
Vincent, seeing Master Scourge's brief hesitation at his fellow captive mentioning of being a skilled craftsman decide's to also take a risk to avoid the even bigger risk of climbing the ropes.
come on vince, a whipping is a bit better then accidentally falling to your death, put on a respectful and obedient tone and it should be alright
he then moves towards the escalating scene, bow's respectfully to plugg and then say's "please my lord, this man didn't mean any disrespect. he was simply saying that as a carpenter, he could help maintain this beautiful craft, and that sending him up a rope ladder where he could fall and break his arms, surely a man as intelligent and wise as you can see his worth as a craftsman. Also if it pleases you, I would like to also offer up my humble services as a alchemist and sorcerer."
Plugg doesn't say anything or even look to Scourge, so the taskmasker does his worst. "He said CLIMB!" Scourge screams at Aghon, raising the whip. "Don't require an answer, but the only right one'd be 'How high?'"
The whip's tip snaps into Aghon, drawing some blood . Scourge then turns to consider the alleged sorcerer, another recruit doing more talking than climbing....
for
Master Scourge raises his whip again, his evil smile and malicious intent now turned upon the sorcerer, but this time Plugg speaks up, intervening.
"A finger-wiggler, eh?" he comments, raising his hand to Scourge, a signal to stay his hand. "It appears I've got me riggers," he adds, shifting his gaze up to those climbing to the crow's nest. "I'll take the big'un...an' the speedy half-pint. That'll leave ye a couple strong men an' the li'l popinjay as swabbies. Mayhap the Mage Lady be interested in a 'pprentice or whatever in hell they're called."
It appears that even though Jordan and the other human are climbing a bit faster than Jarvis, Plugg has noticed the halfling's natural ability at the task, a task where speed isn't all that important.
Plugg calls for the climbers to return to the deck. He tells Culder and Jarvis that they work for him now and are part of his crew of riggers before motioning for them to step aside.
Master Scourge cracks his whip again and says, "The rest o' ye dawcocks are swabs under my whip...all save one. The Cap'n wants a new assistant for our sluggard cook, Fishguts. Any o' ye scugs got any talent in the galley? Speak up!"
While up near the crow's nest, you could see the mainland off a long ways to the south. No sign of any other land anywhere.
Jordan steps forward, and raises a hand. "I've some experience with that sort of work. Tendin' bar and handin' out drinks, at least, and fryin' up the occasional egg." Looking Scourge in the eye, he adds, "Not cookin', per say, but it's better than starving."
Vincent stands up straight and cast's his gaze over towards Aghon. as their gaze meets he raises his lefts eyebrow while maintaining his blank face, almost as if to say sorry, but its still unclear due to the lack of other helpful body clues.
kissing up to them won't be the worst thing, if anything I now have a ship, a crew to sail it, free meals, and I won't have to give any commands. Just have to prove my worth and not step out of line, it could be worse
Scourge glares at Jordan, then at the gnome dandy, and then at Jordan again. "Yer muscle'll be wasted helpin' Fatty Fishguts," he says in disgust, clearly wishing the gnome had some talent in the kitchen. He pulls a scrap of parchment from an inner pocket of his coat, glares at it (he glares at everything!), and then tucks the scrap away again. "Very well--report to the galley."
Master Scourge calls his 'swabs' together to assign each man's (or woman's) daily chore; Mr. Plugg does the same with his riggers. A redheaded woman steps up to Jordan, taking him by the arm. "Shall I show the new cook's mate where the galley is, Master Scourge?" she asks, giving the slightest bow of her head.
Scourge scowls at her before nodding brusquely and saying, "Aye, ye do that Red. An' don't be thinkin' that gits yer sweet ass outta workin'--it's rat-ctachin; an' water duty fer ye!"
"Red" nods to Scourge and replies, "Understood," before leading Jordan down some stairs to the middle deck. Only when she's out of sight from Scourge does her submissive facade vanish. "Don't get on Scourge's bad side--from what little I've seen of him he's one sadistic bastard. Plugg's not much better."
Sticking out a hand, the woman adds, "I'm Sandara--Sandara Quinn. A priestess of Besmara yet just another press-ganged piece of meat like you and your friends and the ones they nabbed at the Formidably Maid. The galley's this way. I'll introduce you to Fishg...Ambrose, the ship's cook. Pray to Besmara--and all the gods for that matter--that he's not still deep in his cups...."
In the galley, a chubby man wearing a filthy apron is curled up on the floor. When Sandara tries to rouse him, he smiles up at her, says, "Helena...mah sweet Hellenooow...," and passes out again.
"Looks like you're on your own," Sandara tells Jordan. "Good luck. I'll try to check in on you later."
As she leaves the galley the woman stops, turns to Jordan, and rolls her eyes. "Oh yeah--welcome to the Wormwood."
A tall, muscled, yet strangely thin dark-skinned woman begins to escort Vincent toward the stairs when another female voice calls out from the deck where the captain initially addressed the new recruits. Harrigan's gone, but in his place stands a woman--human or perhaps half-elf--with long, prematurely gray hair streaked with black.
"No need, Shivikah," she calls to Vincent's escort. Smirking a bit, the lady explains, "He's a sorcerer. I'm a sorceress. We don't take apprentices--that's wizard's work and headaches! If he shows any promise then maybe I'll see him--not 'til then!"
And just like that, Vincent's just another of Master Scourge's swabs.
Scourge hands out working assignments to the ship's swabs, Plugg to the riggers. Jordan's left to his own devices for a while before he meets the quartermaster, who tells him that the Captain's ordered up a special feast that night for the officers.
Day #1 Task: Lookout: A climb to the crow’s nest 60 feet up, requiring DC 10 Climb checks followed by a DC 10 Perception check.
DAYTIME SHIP ACTIONS
Work Diligently: Gain a +4 bonus on any one check for a job’s daily task.
Influence: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and attempt to influence a single NPC.
Sneak: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and briefly explore one part of the ship (the PC can make a single Perception check or other skill check with no chance of detection).
Shop: Take a -2 penalty on all checks for a job’s daily task and visit the quartermaster’s store (area A9).
Shirk: Take a -2 penalty on all checks for a job’s daily task and take time exploring one area of the ship. The PC can take 10 on a single perception check or other skill check, but must make a check to avoid being discovered.
Co-Workers: A scowling dusky-skinned human male checks in on you (and briefly relieves you, if necessary) every so often, not speaking to you unless you try to influence him.
Day #1 Task: Rigging Repair: The ship’s rigging frequently gets damaged and must be repaired, requiring DC 10 Climb checks to reach the rigging 30 feet up, followed by a DC 10 Profession (sailor) or Dexterity check.
DAYTIME SHIP ACTIONS
Work Diligently: Gain a +4 bonus on any one check for a job’s daily task.
Influence: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and attempt to influence a single NPC.
Sneak: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and briefly explore one part of the ship (the PC can make a single Perception check or other skill check with no chance of detection).
Shop: Take a -2 penalty on all checks for a job’s daily task and visit the quartermaster’s store (area A9).
Shirk: Take a -2 penalty on all checks for a job’s daily task and take time exploring one area of the ship. The PC can take 10 on a single perception check or other skill check, but must make a check to avoid being discovered.
Co-Workers (2): A small rat-faced halfling with unusually long arms (one of which ends at a hand missing three fingers); an ugly, surly dwarf with a strange nose (wide, uneven, and tapering to a point) and covered with nasty-looking cysts.
Day #1 Task: Man the Bilges: Vile and sweaty work cleaning out the bilges (area A11), requiring a DC 12 Strength check. The PC must also make a DC 10 Constitution check to avoid being fatigued at the end of the shift.
DAYTIME SHIP ACTIONS
Work Diligently: Gain a +4 bonus on any one check for a job’s daily task.
Influence: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and attempt to influence a single NPC.
Sneak: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and briefly explore one part of the ship (the PC can make a single Perception check or other skill check with no chance of detection).
Shop: Take a -2 penalty on all checks for a job’s daily task and visit the quartermaster’s store (area A9).
Shirk: Take a -2 penalty on all checks for a job’s daily task and take time exploring one area of the ship. The PC can take 10 on a single perception check or other skill check, but must make a check to avoid being discovered.
Co-Workers (3): The fit human sailor (and fellow abductee) with the dark bandana; a curvaceous human female with mean eyes and slightly large ears; and a fat, bald, human male with piglike features and a severe sweating problem.
Day #1 Task: Hauling Rope and Knot Work: Tying and untying knots in the ship’s ropes and moving heavy coils of ropes from one part of the ship to another, requiring a DC 10 Profession (sailor) or Strength check. The PC must also make a DC 10 Constitution check to avoid being fatigued at the end of the shift.
DAYTIME SHIP ACTIONS
Work Diligently: Gain a +4 bonus on any one check for a job’s daily task.
Influence: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and attempt to influence a single NPC.
Sneak: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and briefly explore one part of the ship (the PC can make a single Perception check or other skill check with no chance of detection).
Shop: Take a -2 penalty on all checks for a job’s daily task and visit the quartermaster’s store (area A9).
Shirk: Take a -2 penalty on all checks for a job’s daily task and take time exploring one area of the ship. The PC can take 10 on a single perception check or other skill check, but must make a check to avoid being discovered.
Co-Worker (1): A bedraggled female gnome with lemon-lime hair and an eyepatch over her right eye.
Day #1 Task: Special Occasion: Captain Harrigan is celebrating something today, and wants one of the ship’s pigs butchered and cooked for dinner. The PC must make a DC 10 Profession (cook) or Survival check to slaughter the animal, then help Kroop to clean, cut, and prepare the carcass. If Kroop is sober, no additional check is required. If Kroop is drunk (which he is), this requires a DC 15 Profession (cook) or Intelligence check.
DAYTIME SHIP ACTIONS
Work Diligently: Gain a +4 bonus on any one check for a job’s daily task.
Influence: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and attempt to influence a single NPC.
Sneak: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and briefly explore one part of the ship (the PC can make a single Perception check or other skill check with no chance of detection).
Shop: Take a -2 penalty on all checks for a job’s daily task and visit the quartermaster’s store (area A9).
Shirk: Take a -2 penalty on all checks for a job’s daily task and take time exploring one area of the ship. The PC can take 10 on a single perception check or other skill check, but must make a check to avoid being discovered.
Co-Workers: None, but a female half-orc who introduces herself as Grok the Quartermaster checks in occasionally on passed-out Fishguts.
Jarvis Re-rolls:
This post was a colossal pain to compose, but I think I've now got a template for the future.
Culder does his appointed job, rather well. During his downtime he begins poking around, trying to find his anchor.
Aghon loves a good curvaceous woman, so whilst pumping bilges he introduces himself.
Good morrow m'lady. Name's Aghon. He keeps pumping with his left hand and reaches out the right for a gentile handshake, and then (if she accepts) turns her hand over and brings it to his lips for a small kiss. I didn't expect to find one of such rare beauty doing such dirty work, but you are welcome company. He says and gives her his best debonair grin.
*************************
Jarvis rose at the first peal of the bell and made his morning ablutions quickly. Scampering up the rigging, he set to his task of repairing any damages he found with diligent attention.
Culder’s day is mostly uneventful. The dark-skinned fellow must’ve taken lessons at the Scourge School of Scowling, because he doesn’t say a word to the big sailor the few times he climbs up to check on Culder or temporarily relieve him. Culder takes advantage of one of his breaks to quickly scope out the ship’s main hold (located just below the main deck where most of the swabs’ tasks are carried out). There’s not much to see, save 14 caged pigs and crates of their feed, three ship-to-ship weapons stored near the mainmast (2 light ballistas and a disassembled light catapult), and 12 barrels of oil (each holding apx. 20 gallons). As he moves toward the front of the hold, he hears the clanking of a chain and a tall figure appears in the shadows near a set of stairs.
”Officers’ quarters!” the large fellow almost yells. Although muscular, the fellow’s posture is a bit odd and droopy. His head is shaven and it appears he has patches of tar and feathers covering his shoulders and arms. He seems to be unarmed and has his right ankle in a shackle attached to the foremast by a length of chain. ”Officers’ quarters!” the man repeats. ”And as such—off duty! No, that ain’t right. Off…off…. Off limits!”
You get to know the other riggers by sight if not by name. There’s the scowling, non-talkative, muscular man with dark skin who checks up on you in the crow’s nest occasionally and who you see speaking often to the next person on this list; a tall, leggy, human female with long black hair and a wide but decidedly wicked smile; a second human female, shorter, with a pierced lower lip with a silver ring through it, whose occasional smiles seem more genuine and who goes barefoot in the rigging; an unusually short but long-armed halfling fellow with a rat-like face; and an ugly, foul-tempered, cyst-covered dwarf with a wide, broken nose, who also occasional speaks with your watcher.
Jarvis is pretty much left alone by the other riggers, who occasionally check up on him but leave moments later after nodding, content that the new recruit’s been up in the ropes before and knows what he’s doing.
You get to know the other riggers by sight if not by name. There’s a scowling, non-talkative, muscular man with dark skin who checks up on Culder in the crow’s nest occasionally and who you sees speaking often to the next person on this list; a tall, leggy, human female with long black hair and a wide but decidedly wicked smile; a second human female, shorter, with a pierced lower lip with a silver ring through it, whose occasional smiles seem more genuine and who goes barefoot in the rigging; the rat-faced halfling (who takes a moment to introduce himself as Ratline Rattsberger); and the ugly dwarf who says nothing other than to occasionally curse you and Ratline for no good reason.
You could possibly chat a bit more with Ratline if you wanted, but the dwarf seems uninterested in conversation.
A ladder beneath a trap door in the lower hold leads down to the bilges, an abominably humid and stinky pit of darkness. 1-2 feet of filthy water sloshes about much of the area, and there are a pair of dirty bilge pumps near the stern. The corners of the low ceiling are cluttered with thick cobwebs. Six sets of manacles are fixed to the bulkheads in the forward portion of the chamber, one of which holds a frightened human male.
Aghon’s charm is wasted on the female pirate, who looks at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief as the cleric kisses her hand. The fat man bursts into a fit of squealing laughter, finally saying, ”Lookin’ fer a freebie, mate? Sweet Aretta don’t put out unless ya gots coin. What’s yer current rates, Ari? Five silver for a quick bit o’ acrobatics in the hammock or roll on the deck floor?”
”Shaddup, Fipps!” the woman snarls. ”I wouldn’t sleep with yer fat ass for all the gold in the Hurricane King’s vaults!”
Aretta and Fipps trade barbs occasionally but generally ignore you after the first little introduction. The human sailor—who introduces himself as Cog—is more chatty. Although he was drugged and pressganged at a drinking spot on mainland Port Peril the same night you and the Captain’s Crew were shipped off of Crescent Harbor, Cog seems to be genuinely excited about serving on a pirate ship.
As the day passes, you find out that the prisoner is Jakes Magpie and he’s being held for punishment for stealing from the quartermaster’s makeshift store. Jakes begs to be released. He’s ignored by Aretta and Fipps, but Cog approaches the man once, ginning and asking if Magpie knows where he might find some thieves’ tools to spring the man. ”Well…the quartermaster’s store, probably. Maybe Lonegan’s locker. But I need it done now, man!” Cog smiles, shrugs at the prisoner, and goes back to work. Scourge and Plugg both make brief visits to interrogate Jakes, and Scourge asks Fipps how the newbies are working out, getting an inarticulate grunt and shrug from the fat man.
Although all four of your crew are supposed to take turns manning the bilge pumps, Aretta and Fipps take far shorter shifts before ordering yourself and Cog to take their places for long, grueling ones.
There are a few crates stored above the water line here, but you’d definitely be noticed if you tried to look at their contents.
You can try to talk a little more to the NPCs but won’t be able to influence them further (that might not be a bad thing considering how your first attempt went).
Jordan began familiarizing himself with the ships kitchen. Wrinkling his nose at the bloody pig carcass, he grabs a knife and begins sharpening it. "This'll be a bit trickier than a fried egg," he mutters to himself.
Ignoring snores from the drunken Kroop, Jordan begins busying himself with cleaning and dressing the meat.
It was slow going, and a couple times Jordan was checking to make sure he still had all his fingers, but eventually the meat was prepared. Checking again on the sleeping Kroop, Jordan gave a frustrated sigh. He gave a glance out the door, and was tempted to have a look around the ship. The waters aboard seem to be a bit stormy, he thinks to himself, And the way into a captain's graces could be through his stomach. After all, there was still the night to sneak around in, and he preferred to do his work after dark.
After hours of working and cooking, Jordan sat down on a sack of flour, wiping his brow, tired from his work.
Having fumbled words and smirks enough today, Aghon settles in to the gritty work of manning the bilge pumps. Frick, does Wormwood ever describe this vessel. It must have more holes in its hull than hull. We're fighting a losing battle here unless we stop this ship from taking on so much water! Aghon exclaims to no one in particular as he mans the pumps. Aghon ignores the prisoner altogether, and only talks to Cog with cursory phrase, but if he ever catches Aretta looking at him, he does his best to smile and wink.
The galley is a filthy, chaotic room of pots, pans, cooking utensils, free-ranging chickens (about 20) and goats (3). There are two cluttered worktables and the walls are lines with cupboards; 2 small stoves—already lit—are against the port wall. There are spices and rices and veggies (oh my!), but if there’s some sort of organizational system to the place it wholly escapes you.
Early on, you meet the quartermaster—a female half-orc named Cut-throat Grok—who asks for your help in getting Chef Kroop (aka Fishguts) off the floor and into his bed in the small cabin off the galley. Grok says that she runs a sort of makeshift store out of her office, but before you can ask she tells you that all your confiscated gear is forfeit, now considered part of the captain & crew’s booty. She says that if you have enough gold or trade goods she could sell stuff back, however, though weapons will only become available once the captain decides the new blood can be trusted with them.
True to her word, Sandara checks in with you in the early hours of the afternoon. ”Seen any rats or other vermin in here?” she asks. (You haven’t…amongst the chickens and goats.) ”The damned rats are creepy…an’ smart! They can sense ya comin’ an’ make tracks before ya can get near.” Quietly, she adds, ”If ya can make friends with Grok, ya might be able to get some gear back. She’s a superstitious one—I told her my holy symbol was blessed by one o’ Besmara’s high priests and would act as a curse if ever it fell inta the hands o’ a non-believer. She seems to be a good egg, though, so far as that goes on a ship o’ villains.”
You can chat a bit more with Grok and/or Sandara if you’d like.
When you next catch Aretta's eye and smile and wink, she scowls at you and flashes a one-fingered salute. You're beginning to get the impression that she really doesn't like you. Fipps doesn't either, for that matter, though he's less demonstrative about it. The pair mostly ignore you but talk a bit to Cog, warming up to him more as the afternoon passes. It's like they're taking him under their wings while booting you out of the proverbial nest to rot.
"There was a priestess of Besmara back in Crescent Harbor," Jordan comments, almost off hand, "A Beliza or somethin', seemed to like to go around and help people.". Wiping off a countertop, Jordan begins trying to sort the clean dishes from the dirty ones, but it's nearly impossible to tell which is which. Looking up, he casually asks "How long have you been on the Wormwood?"
Jordan exchanges a few more words with Sandara, doing his best to keep the conversation friendly. Pushing a goat aside, Jordan excuses himself from the kitchen and meanders towards Grok's store.
"So, did you hear the latest news from Crescent Harbor?" he asks Grok. After some small talk, he launches into the tale of the heroes killing the hag and zombie octopus (all told from the perspective of an observer). Before leaving to get back to organizing the kitchen, Jordan makes sure to get the prices for his gear.
"This Beliza sounds like a kindred spirit," Sandara says, "but no--I've never met her. I let me guard down four night back an' got drugged--by Scourge himself. That creep's taken a shine to me--it's all I can do not to vomit when that beast's near, but I learned the hard way not to antagonize him. He whipped me within an inch o' me life. So now it's 'Yes sir' an' 'Right away, sir' an' 'Understood, sir' fer me until I get my chance to do...something."
"Well, I better get back to work. If you or yer pals need any healin' after Bloody Hour or whenever, seek me out an' I'll help if I can."
**********************************
Grok seems pleased to chat a bit with Jordan and does so, telling him she's impressed by his tales. "Got to lop the heads off a few shamblin' corpses meself with my dependable Gal's Edge." Not sure what the deal with the walkin' dead was; Lady Longfarthin' said the powers-that-be in Port Peril are callin' it the Storm of Souls. Say that some magic spun outta the Eye of Aroden and awakened all the dead sailors and sea beasties it passed over."
You find the heavy labor challenging and can’t help but wonder how a scrawny little gnome can handle it all day without complaining or faltering. The not complaining part is easy to understand: she barely acknowledges your presence during the day, so engaged is she in properly carrying out her day's task. She does at least introduce herself as Giffer Tibbs.
When the ship's bell sounds to end your shift, the bright-haired gnome apologizes for having been antisocial, but she didn't want to earn herself a whipping at Bloody Hour by not performing her job adequately. She sticks out a hand but before you can shake it, she looks around nervously and whispers, "Wait! Would you agree to a kinda oddball request?"
You notice the gnome clutches a small dagger in her other hand. Slowly, to show she means no harm to you, she brings the weapon's tip to her hand and gently pokes her palm, causing a tiny spot of blood to appear. "Mind terribly iff'n I do the same to you? Think of it a sort of ritual! We'll be blood brothers--sort of--only I'm a girl."
A bell rings somewhere on the maindeck, signaling the end of your first day as pirate swabs, riggers, and cook’s mate. Like a human tide, the Wormwood’s crew sweeps onto the maindeck, where Master Scourge awaits.
While everyone arrives, you have time to look around a bit. The ship’s clock, a macabre brass-and-copper instrument in the shape of giant worms writhing through a bloated whale’s corpse, hangs from the mainmast over several thick strands of dangling rope stained with blood. Two heavy wooden grilled hatches lead down to the hold. The other item of note is the coffin-sized wooden box bound with iron that sits just beneath the bridge.
You also notice that none of the Wormwood’s non-officers wears any armor or carries (openly, at least) a weapon larger than a dagger.
”Welcome to Bloody Hour, ye bunch o’ chuckle-headed miscreants!” Scourge roars over the general murmur. ”The Cap’n’s runt has tasted tonight’s supper an’ declared it both nonpoisonous an’ halfways edible! That slugabed Fishguts musta been out all day, an’ it seems his new mate’s a decent chef! Who’d’ve guessed?”
”I was hopin’—nay, expectin’—that most o’ the new blood would get strapped to the Wormwood’s spine an’ get a taste o’ pirate law this fine eve, but the lubbers did decent work. Scrimshaw and Bansion —ye’re lucky yer not hugging the mainmast an’ tastin’ my lash fer the slackin’ ye did this day. You, too, Jape! Vacation’s over, lords an’ ladies! Port Peril…she’s behind us now. No soft beds or warm company fer the foreseeable future…unless ye can afford Bansion’s rates, that is! It’s a pirate life ye chose, an’ it’ll be a pirate’s life ye live, fer better or fer worse.”
”We do have some entertainment planned fer this evenin’ though. Seems Mister Magpie—some o’ ye might know him as Jakes—helped himself to some goodies in the quartermaster’s store. For that lack o’ judgment an’ breach o’ the Cap’n’s trust, he’ll be granted a slow keelhaulin’ fer yer entertainment an’ educational purposes. Gents—bring Magpie forward an’ prepare him fer his little swim!”
A muscular, scowling, dark-skinned pirate, a lumpy dwarf with an oft-broken nose, a fat, sweaty man, and the leering half-orc Jape drag poor Jakes Magpie forward and bind him with thick ropes. Mr. Plugg joins the quartet after Magpie’s thrown overboard, pulling the rope with great pleasure as the thief is dragged along the ship’s barnacled bottom. What comes up out of the water on the other side of the ship is a bloody mess…and quite dead. There’s some cheering while other heads watch silently, and a few look away.
The night’s supper includes a few strips of pork to go along with bread, stew, and a half pint of potent-smelling rum. The interaction between the crew is pretty telling: in general, swabs eat and talk with swabs, riggers with other riggers. There’s one mixed group, however. The four men who aided in Jakes Magpie’s keelhauling are joined by the curvaceous Aretta Bansion and two other tall human women: A muscular but thin and tired-looking Mwangi female cuddles up to the dark-skinned man while a leggy lass with long black hair clasps hands and jokes a bit with each member of the clique.
Mr. Plugg suddenly appears on the poop deck and calls for silence. ”A few words o’ wisdom for the new blood,” he calls out. ”Eat yer supper an’ drink all yer rum, cuz there’ll be nothin’ more ‘til the breakfast bell.”
”Also, by the Cap’n’s orders, none of ye are to have in your possession any weapon until further notice. If ye prove yerselves trustworthy, ye’ll have brass knives or daggers by week’s end ta help in yer duties. Use ‘em on another crewmate an’ ye’ll taste me cat or Scourge’s whip. Ye’ll each be given a locker an’ a key; don’t lose it or ye lose whatever ye got inside! An’ last—there’ll be no use o’ aggressive magic under me watch, savvy? What be ‘aggressive magic,’ ye asks? Well—I’ll know it when I see it! As you were….”
Shortly thereafter, the pirate Scourge called “Red” earlier in the day seeks out each other member of the “new blood” to introduce herself (her real name’s Sandara Quinn) and chat a bit if they’re interested.
Bansion must be Aretta’s last name. Also, you recognize Fipps to be the fat, sweaty guy who helps to keelhaul Jakes Magpie.
When Sandara introduces herself and shakes hands, you feel her press a piece of metal into your palm—your iron knuckles or a similar pair. ”I’d keep ‘em well-hidden, given Plugg’s little speech just now,” she says softly.
Also, you recognize the scowling fellow who checked up on you during the day to have been one of Jakes Magpie's keelhaulers.
"My first day as a pirate, and I've already seen my first keelhauling," Jordan remarks as Sandara comes by. "Is it this fun every night, or do they just plan something fun for new arrivals?" he finishes with a dry smirk.
After chatting with Sandara a bit, Jordan asks if she has any suggestions on how he could get on the quartermaster's good side. "Unless you think you can convince her that I'm one of Besmara's chosen," he adds with a grin.
While talking to Sandara, Jordan moves to pick up is rum, instead "accidentally" knocking the cup off the edge of the table.
"Actually, this is me first day at sea with the Wormwood," the woman confesses. "Scourge an' his cronies bagged me four days back, so I don't know if this is typical or not. Maybe too many keelhaulin's be the reason the ship's short on crew."
"As fer Grok...I dunno. I'll put in a good word for you next time I speak with her. Actually...I think she's got a soft spot in her 'eart for the cook. Be good to Ambrose an' maybe Grok'll be good to you in turn."
Jordan seems to get away with his 'accidental' rum spill.