Images of the night's revelry flash in your mind; good loud music, flirty wenches of questionable morals, and numerous (countless?) glasses of rum, ale and wine. The last thing you remember were plates full of sausages and meats being brought out to loud cheers and greedy grabbing.
It was truly a night worthy of the Pirate capital of the Shackles.
Those happy remembrances are immediately replaced by a pounding headache. You must still be drunk, as the floor beneath you is swaying at regular intervals. As you lick your dry lips, the taste of the wine is replaced by an ashy, unpleasant flavor.
Cracking open your eyes, you discover that you are in a ship's interior. You see others around you slowly coming to. You recognize some of the faces from the Formidably Maid the night before, and all of them appear worse for the wear. Looking around, you quickly realize that you've been stripped of all your belongings, with nothing more than the clothes on your back. No weapons. No magical components.
Nothing.
You start with a set of brass knuckles concealed on your person.
Pressing your hand against your chest, you discover that your holy symbol is still in your possession.
Lifting your head, you see a tall, skinny man in a long coat and breeches and boots. He wears a dark beard braided down his chest and his mouth gleams with gold teeth as he snarls cruelly at the lot of you. Six other burly men stand around him, all armed with saps.
His voice rings out in a shout as the whip in his other hand cracks out above your heads. "Still abed with the sun over the yardarm?! On your feet, you filthy swabs! Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap'n Harrigan flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!"
You are on a boat. Against your will. And this man, standing above you, is apparently your new superior.
Your pirate career is off to a dramatically different start than you anticipated.
Dorin opens his eyes at the voice of the pirate. He quickly gets to his feet, and while his head is slightly foggy and his mouth feels like cotton, he is able to have some semblance of the salt bearded sailor that he truly is.
Aye, sir, reportin' fer duty. Where be me stuff, eh?
Allie wakes face down on the planks of the hold floor. Her head aches and the floor rolls, threatening to upend the contents of her stomach.
On a ship?! Well done, Cat. Caught in a fish net. New game. Play it slow.
Slowly, she pushes herself up to her knees, and makes as if straightening her clothes. Affirming her suspicions that they had searched and seized most of her possessions, she smoothly moves to a standing position.
Looking over the imposing figure and his gang, she bites back the angry retort she was prepared to give.
"What are we supposed to do?" She asks the dwarf beside her.
At the sound of the lash, Yasmin stirs, eyes still closed. Wait, am I back on the ship? No... Cap'n Harrigan. That's the wrong captain. Opening her eyes, she sees the speaker and six men armed with saps. Uh oh.
She staggers to her feet, and looks around.
Dorin looks up at Cat.
Not sure, lass, but I'd be followin' orders fer now.
Growling loudly, the hideous half-orc staggers to his knees - then his feet. Peering about he shakes his head. "Again I live..." He looks dumbly at the men arrayed before him, waiting. A new ship not of my choosing... The Thunderer, she has a new setting for me to sail towards, it would seem.
Gripping her aching head, Elisandra struggles to her feet as the tall skinny sailor barks orders.
Shaking her head, Eli mutters quietly as she checks for her belongings "Wait, what? Captain Harrigan? I don't remember taking any contracts with..." trailing off as her predicament begins to sink in, Eli shakes her head and continues "ohhh, this can't be good."
Falling in behind the dwarf, a look of relief sets about Eli upon finding at least her holy symbol. A small kindness; at least they had the good sense to leave this be, thank Besmara.
Allie nods at the dwarf's response.
"All right then," she says with a sigh.
Let the games begin.
As her rag tag contingent moves toward the ladder, Allie sizes up her captors, looking for one who might have something useful on his person.
or
She casually pushes past her mark on the way to the ladder, using the close quarters as an opportunity to filch something.
Upon staggering to his feet, Ulgrast blows a long stream of snot out of his nose anbd onto the deck while looking at his new captors/crewmates. Ulgrast mutters in Orcish, "Thrice-blessed by the Thunderer, and you think you can scare me with your little words. Bah." He then follows the rest up the ladder as there is little else worth doing.
"Ye can count th' clothes on ye back 'n th' breaths in yer gut among yer worldly possessions," the man replies to Dorin. "Everythin' else ye formerly carried be now th' property 'o 'tis ship 'n her cap'n - 'n don't think fer a moment we won't reclaim yer remainin' possessions if ye gift us cause."
You don't see much of value on any of the men, but they all carry daggers on their belts. There is one man in particular who seems as if he could be a potential mark, as he stands directly in the path between you and the door, but behind the others.
Seeing that none of you appear to be putting up a fight, the man lowers his whip. "Seems like ye lot have more brains than others we've brought on board. Now move!" However, when Ulgrast speaks up, the man cracks his whip at the half-orc.
After the whip snaps cruelly across Ulgrast's arm, the man says, "Any 'o th' rest 'o ye care to have a word? Perhaps in common tongue this time, so we can all understand ye?"
As you make your way to the main deck, it’s quickly apparent that you are on a sizable ship in the middle of the ocean, far from any land. Port Peril and the mainland of the Shackles are just an ochre haze many miles astern. Figures cluster around the ship’s mainmast, looking up at the higher deck on the stern, where two figures stand. One of them is a broad, muscular Garundi man with a shaven head, a long beard bound with gold rings, and an eye patch - it is clear from the way he carries himself that this man is the captain. The other is a younger, balding man with a long black ponytail, wearing a long coat and carrying a well-used cat-o’-nine-tails.
You also notice that you are not the only new recruits - four others are standing with you on the deck, set apart by their relative cleanliness and apparent unease with their newfound situation. A dozen or so other pirates, clearly existing members of the crew, stand about on the deck or in the ship’s rigging.
Once everyone is on deck, the captain addresses the crew, his voice booming over the deck. “Glad you could join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for ‘volunteering’ to join my crew. I’m Barnabas Harrigan. That’s Captain Barnabas Harrigan to you, not that you’ll ever have cause to address me. I have only one rule - don’t speak to me. I like talk, but I don’t like your talk. Follow that rule and we’ll all get along fine."
He stares out over the recruits, taking in each one individually. “Oh, and one more thing. Even with you new recruits, we’re still short-handed, and I aim to keep what crew I have. There’ll be a keelhaulin’ for anyone caught killin’ anyone. Mr. Plugg! If you’d be so kind as to make pirates out of these landlubbers, it’ll save me having to put them in the sweatbox for a year and a day before I make pies out of ’em.”
At the end of his speech, the captain walks away, leaving behind the man with the cat-o’-nine-tails - this, apparently, is Mr. Plugg. He looks down at the impressed captives and smiles unpleasantly.
"Scourge, it looks like you rounded us up a filthy lot of land lubbers who've never seen a day at sea in their lives," Plugg says. "Except maybe that grizzled old saltbeard there."
He walks down the steps to the main deck. He takes in the five of you in particular. "We need a new rigger. One of you lot is going to earn that...honor. We'll decide who it will be with a little sport. Whoever makes it to the crow's nest first will be rewarded with the position. Now - climb!" He says, snapping his cat-o-nine-tails loudly.
The welt on his back red amongst the many scars on his flesh, Ulgrast does not take great umbrage at the words. I have endured worse than this and will endure so again. Stepping up to the rigging he begins to climb...
His first movements, are hindred as others rush with him and he takes a moment to get his bearings. Then he begins to climb methodically, making it more than half way up before he slips a bit on a bit of wet line.
Quickly recovering he finishes the climb in the same methodical manner, reaching the top and looking down on those below.
Orcish: "Without orders, I think resting here a bit is good..." The orc then sits down in the crows nest, holding his still aching head in his hands.
You manage to lift the dagger without anybody noticing.
Looking astern, Yasmin is not surprised to see Port Peril is only a hazy spot in the distance. She listens attentively at the captain, paying close attention to his mannerisms. Wouldn't be the first captain I've charmed, she thinks to herself. But now wasn't the time.
Instead, she began to climb. But she wasn't about to "win" if she could help it. Once she makes it up about 20 feet, Yasmin will start to slow down, making sure someone else wins this sport.
But as she slows down, pretending to have trouble, Yasmin goes off balance and begins to fall. "Aieeeeee"! She tries to catch herself, but fails, and falls 30 feet.
As she lies prone on the floor, Yasmin realizes she may be the first casualty amongst these new recruits, if she didn't reveal some of her power. Rolling over, she begins to sing a Kelish tune.
With only a few scratches left on her, Yasmin then gets back on her feet, and looks at Mr. Plugg. She keeps singing, her eyes gazing seductively at the man with the whip.
Allie looks at the ropes.
"Alright, then." Slow and steady. Don't tip your hand.
Allie methodically makes her way up the ropes, getting her foot tangled in the ropes twice, but making the crow's nest in good time.
Dorin spits into his palms and takes to the rigging.
Slowly and steadily Dorin makes his way halfway to the top before slipping slightly. However, he is able to recapture his grip as he scampers the remainder of the way. He sits next to the half-orc, and says,
Nice view from up 'ere, eh laddie? Name's Dorin Stonehammer.
He extends his hand to the half-orc.
Hesitating for a moment, the half-orc takes the dwarf's hand in a tight grip. Grin showing file-sharpened teeth he says in thickly gutteral common, "I am Ulgrast Thrice-Blessed by the Thunderer. You have been on ship before, no? You do ropes climbing well. These others, I do not know - but this crew seems no very freindly."
Yep, bit o' sailorin' in me blood, Ulgrast. These pirate types never are verra nice. I am more interested in recoverin' me weapon and belongins'.
"Yeah, these boys have no respect for other people's property," Allie interjects from the other side of the crow's nest.
Allie takes the opportunity to make sure her newly acquired dagger is properly stashed one of her outfit's hidden pockets - as well-hidden as possible, but still able to be drawn if need be
What's yer name, lassie? I am Dorin, and this here's Ulgrast. Good climbin' back there.
"You can call me Cat," Allie replies with a crooked smile. "A plea-sure to make your acquain-tances, gentlemen" she then follows with an intentionally ironic air of nobility. She turns her body, crossing her legs at the ankles, then extends her hand, palm down, as if expecting one of them to kiss it, and giggles.
Looking at the crow's nest disparagingly, Elisandra sighs and mumbles quietly "For gods sakes, I'm a surgeon... what am I doing here?"" Shaking her head, she grips the rope rigging and attempts to climb.
Struggling greatly with the ropes, Elisandra moves slowly and painfully up. It is apparent to all and sunder that climbing is not her strong suit by any stretch of the imagination.
The last to reach the top, out of breath and certainly uncomfortable with the height, Eli immediately clings onto the mast for dear life. Besmara, have mercy on me now.
With a self-depreciating smile, Eli looks over to the others "If you haven't figured it out by now... this isn't the kind of thing I'm used to doing." Shaking her head, she laughs nervously "I'm Elisandra, a physician by trade; just call me Eli."
Ulgrast tilts his head as he observes Cat and her antics, as if not sure whether she is quite sane. In his gutteral acceent he finally says "Cat is little animal that hunts rodents, yes? Do you hunt rodents little girl?" He then bursts out laughing at his own attempt at humor, wrinkling his scarred face and showing his filed teeth to ill effect.
When Elisandra speaks he replies, "Good to have doctor yes. You will be good on ship."
Well done, Eli. I am Dorin Stonehammer, at yer service. I be thinkin' we need t'stick together if'n we ever want t'see our stuff agin'.
"I catch as catch-can," she replies with another crooked smile.
"Perhaps I'll leave a fat dead rat on your mat," she says with a wink.
"We best head back down, before our oh so graaacious hosts decide we need a whipping for our loitering about up here. Ta ta, gentlemen."
With that, she turns and begins to descend.
Apparenty happy at the prospect of rat, the half-orc grins madly at Cat then follows her back down, taking special care as he decends.
Dorin, looks down as the two descend, and then he motions to Eli.
Come, lass, let's get back down.
Yasmin thinks better of trying to charm Mr. Plugg with the many observers around. She would save that magic for later. Instead, she does her best to recover her dignity and climbs back up, cautiously this time, and without looking down. It seemed that the more nimble ones were already climbing back down as she was ascending.
"So, time to go back already?" As Yasmin looks down, she starts to panic, still shaken after having just fallen.
Three of you successfully scale the rigging - Dorin, Ulgrast and Allie - while two of you don't make it off the deck. Yasmin, however, took a far greater beating, tumbling off the rigging and nearly falling unconscious. As you soothe your wounds with your healing song, you notice a tall, thin, older woman in a wide hat and long cloak. Her eyes narrow and her lips begin moving.
As you attempt to cast Charm Person , you feel a power washing over you, deflecting the spell you just attempted to cast. "It seems our poor-climbing lass here thought she could magick her way into your heart, Plugg." she says cooly. "Best keep an eye on that one." Plugg scowls at Yasmin, grinning cruelly, but says nothing.
As you all make your way back down the netting Plugg observes the three of you. "Well, half-orc, you're earned the spot of rigger." Turning to the others, he asks, "Next, any of you know how to cook? Ambrose needs some assistance down in the galley. Oh, and miss..." he looks at Yasmin, "you won't be taking this job, even if you wanted it. I've got a task better suited for your skills."
"I used to help my mother make meat-pies, sir," Allie answers sheepishly.
Me skills lie in sailin', not cookin'
Ulgrast simply nods at the idea of working the ropes, looking up the mast to examine his new home.
Yasmin is genuinely surprised at her charms having failed, until the old crone gives her away. She frowns. It seemed she might be destined to swab the deck ... or worse.
"Done," Plugg says to Allie. "You - I'll take ya' down to the galley. Kroop's waitin' fer ya. Now, the rest of you lot, Scourge will put you to work." Plugg turns and leads Allie down into the galley. Before he heads out of sight, he turns around and says, "Scourge, be sure to give our fallen maiden the bilges today. Perhaps she can turn her charms on the filth, eh?" He laughs cruelly as he disappears below deck.
The bearded man from the morning - apparently Scourge - steps forward and takes you all in. He turns first to Ulgrast. "All right, rigger, you'll be putting your muscles to the test to ensure we move as quickly as possible. Your tasked with line work today."
Next, he turns to Dorin. "You, saltbeard, you're swabbing the decks."
He then looks at Elisandra and says, "You, pretty lady, are going to put those lady fingers to work hauling and untying the tangles we got in our ropes in port."
Finally, he looks at Yasmin with a cruel grin on his face. "And you, my dear, have already heard your task. You get to spend the day cleaning out the bilges. I'll take you down personally to make sure you're properly acquainted."
You head below deck into the galley. The cramped and chaotic kitchen holds two wooden worktables, several wooden cupboards, and two small stoves against the port wall, as well as virtually every cooking utensil imaginable and a frightening array of meat cleavers. A score of chickens and three goats wander freely throughout the chamber; the goats are meant to be caged, but have a distressing tendency to escape their bonds. The kitchen is a madness of dirt, food, and knives. The stoves are perpetually lit, and large cauldrons bubble away atop them all times. A huge array of spices mingle with barrels of rainwater, two tuns of rum, cupboards full of ship’s biscuit and salted beef, barrels of sauerkraut, and a small supply of fresh vegetables picked up in Port Peril.
You spot who you assume is Kroop. He is wearing a filthy apron covered in various stains and remains. As you get closer, the smell of alcohol is staggering - it is clear this man likes his drink. Plugg looks at him with disgust before saying, "Here's your new assistant. Says she's cooked before. More'n we can say about you, eh?" he says smiling cruelly as he turns on heels. Kroop gazes at him, his expression unreadable.
As soon as Plugg is out of sight he says in deep, rich voice, "You're here to serve me, got it?". Kroop appear to be slightly drunk at the moment, but he doesn't seem to be an angry drunk, which is positive. "You do as I say and you'll do just fine. We keep this ship running with our cooking - any foul up is sure to foul us up, if you take my meaning." He looks up the stairs to be sure that Plugg is out of sight before saying quietly, "It’s poison, this ship, but don’t let anyone hear you say it aloud. The hull listens, see, and the cap’n hears it all. Poison the Wormwood is, though, rotten to the core. You’ll not meet a more nasty, sour piece of work than Cap’n Harrigan in all your days at sea, and his crew’s the same, ’specially the first mate, Mr. Plugg. Vicious little sod, he is. He’d take his own mother’s liver to the butcher to make pies with, he would. But they leave me alone, mostly. They know I can’t ’arm ’em. You'd be wise to keep your head down, too. Do your job. You'll be fine."
"Well, let's get to it. We won't start with anything fancy for your first day - just a basic meal to fill the crew's belly," He says, handing you a filthy apron of your very own.
Dorin sets to his task, and he works at a steady pace, not willing to truly appear as if this is his favorite task. However, he certainly does not shirk his duties, either.
He hums a few different bars from various sea chanties and dwarven drinking songs. He is alert to attempting to influence anyone nearby with his knowledge of sailing and freebooting.
Spent me whole life aboard one berth o'another. Lookin' forward t'see what this rig can do, and if'n the cap'n will be movin' us along quick like. I am right good in a scrape with me hammer.
Frustrated at her own inability to climb the rigging, Elisandra quietly fumes as Plugg barks new orders at the crew.
When he directs her towards the ropes, Elisandra appears incredulous for a moment but then gets the better of herself and holds her tongue.
Could be worse.
Walking up to the ropes, Eli sighs longingly. "Fine work for a ship surgeon..." Setting herself to her task, she calls upon her experiences from previous voyages.
While successful at the task, Elisandra finds herself wearing out quickly, unused to being put to such laborious tasks. Sweaty and exhausted, Elisandra plumps down after finishing her task entirely out-of-breath.
Looking up to the heavens, Eli laughs between breaths "I'm not sure... what I did... to deserve this m'queen..., but it sure does sting."
Her first day on this ship was not going well at all. First the horrendous fall, then the bilges! Dark, stinky, it was going to be a nightmare. But Yasmin was determined to turn things around.
.
.
After her work is complete, Yasmin decides she just needs someplace to get cleaned up. Hard to be charming when one stinks of brine and muck. She looks around for a friendly face who might be helpful. .
Allie prepares the evening meal alone, after Mr. Kroop slumps drunkenly against the galley wall and begins snoring.
Fish stew and hardtack may not be gourmet fare, but you've eaten worse, Cat.
Reasonably sure that everything is ready, Allie decides to take advantage of her chaperone's state to sneak out of the galley and explore the adjoining area of the ship.
Let's see what's what around here.
Ulgrast approaches the ropes in a workman like way, enjoying the labor of the seas despite the fact that he didn't get to choose the ship or captian. As he works he begins to wonder about the location of his Mask, the focus of his power. Surely the Thunderer didn't mean for him to be separated from it, and he surely doesn't have the resources to begin to craft another. When his work is finished, he sets out about the ship trying to find where the gear they took from him might be stashed.
The work is hard, but you plow through fine, not feeling too worse for the wear at the end of the day. Unfortunately, only one other passenger was assigned to swab the deck today, Fipps Chumlett, a fat, pushy bully with a shaved head. He was one of the sailors who "greeted" this morning. He is clearly unimpressed by and uninterested in hearing your stories about your times at sea.
The work is tedious, but you set into it well enough, quickly managing to untangle the ropes and lines. Unfortunately, hauling the ropes around the ship proves to be quite exhausting, and at the end of the day you are fatigued.
However, there were several other passengers working alongside you. During the day you met:
Rosie Cuswell - a foul-mouthed halfling woman.
Crimson "Cog" Cogward - a moody male human wearing a blue Varisian scarf around his head.
Giffer Tibbs - a bedraggled female gnome with one eye.
You take easily to the task, your previous experience aboard a vessel serving you well. Though you were slightly unused to the exertion, you manage to feel fine at the end of the day.
Unfortunately, your efforts to spot your gear go unrewarded. But your tasks kept you above deck - perhaps your totem is somewhere below.
The bilges are filthy, smelly and utterly foul. Fortunately, the ship hasn't been at sea too long yet, so the hold is relatively empty. You manage to get it as clean as is possible.
You weren't alone in the bilges, a female named Tilly Brackett joined you. She wasn't warm towards you, but she did make several jokes throughout the day as she complained about the thankless, filthy work. Additionally, there was a man in the bilges - but rather than helping you clean, he was chained to one of the walls. He ignored you all day long and when you inquired about him, Tilly said, "Best not talk to 'im. 'E's been caught thievin'. Cap'n has it in for 'im." His name is Jakes Magpie.
At the end of the day, the hatch to the bilges is thrown open and Scourge descends the ladder. "Not bad, bilge rats," he says, inspecting your work. "Perhaps ye' pair have earned ye-selves permanent work down 'ere. Come on ye, two. Or, three rather, isn't it? Your time has come, Magpie. Let's go."[/b] He heads over and unchains the man who doesn't even bother to put up a fight. Scourge then leads you out of the bilges and up to the deck.
Kroop trudged off to a corner of the kitchen and started snoring loudly as you prepared the day's meal. There were plenty of ingredients and the simple stew was easy enough to make. As you completed lunch, Kroop awoke and excused himself out of the kitchen.
Seizing the opportunity, you sneak out behind him. You seem him enter
He doesn't spot you, but you notice him going into a room with a tall half-orc woman. She smiles widely as he enters, clearly glad to see him. "'Ello, Grok," you hear Kroop say. "Got any new goods from our new arrivals?"
"A bit," The half-orc replies, looking casually over her shoulder. "Only interestin' thing is that orc's mask. Sends shivers up my spine lookin' at it. Foul thing it is. Don't want to keep it in here longer than be necessary." Kroop closes the door behind him and you don't hear any more. Sneaking around the rest of the deck, you get a pretty good sense of that level's layout. Unfortunately, you hear Kroop open the door and have to scurry back to the galley before he notices.
The rest of the day is spent chopping, storing and sorting the foodstuffs procured in Port Peril. As you prepare to bring the food up, you are formally introduced to the half-orc. Her name is Cut-Throat Grok - apparently named for the huge scar across her neck. She helps you and Kroop carry the food above deck.
You all hear a loud ringing come from the main deck of the ship. It is coming from a macabre brass-and-copper clock, which depicts worms writhing through whale corpses. The clock makes a heavy reverberating tick each second, and chimes with haunting bells at dawn and dusk.
Everyone gathers around on the main deck. There is a nervous, anxious energy that spreads over the crew. Finally, Scourge emerges from below deck leading three individuals - Yasmin, a woman, and a man. All three of them are filthy beyond belief, but the man's face is drawn and empty - he looks like a shell of his former self.
"It be th' BLOODY HOUR!" Scourge screams loudly, his face beaming with delight. "Fer them 'o ye new to us, we use 'tis time to motivate th' crew to do their jobs to th' highest possible level. Some 'o ye newcomers need a wee motivation, I'd wager. Cusswell, step forward!"
A halfling woman is brought to middle of the deck and tied face-first to the main mast. "Ms. Cusswell here thought she could mouth off to a superior last nightfall. Ms. Cusswell be mistaken," Scourge says, smiling cruelly. "We don't allow fer insubordination on th' Wormwood. She'll receive three lashes fer her learnin'." Without warning, Scourge cracks the whip three times against her back, each lash resulting in a large welt on the halfling's back. Cusswell remains silent during the punishment.
As soon as the whipping is finished, one of Scourge's toadies - a bulbous-nosed dwarf - brings the man, who is tightly bound in a rope now, from the bilges into the crowd and leads him to the side of the ship. Plugg steps forward and says, "Mr. Jakes Magpie here, stands accused of theft. He has admitted to his crime and accepts his punishment." Plugg fails to conceal the look of glee on his face as he continues. "Before the evening meal, we will all witness the fate of anyone who dares steal from his brothers and sisters!" Without warning, Plugg pushes the man overboard.
The man is drug under the boat for more than a minute before being pulled back on deck. All that remains is a bloody mess that has been torn to shreds. He is almost immediately thrown back overboard to be fed to the sharks.
You notice the relish with which Mr. Plugg, in particular, tugs at the rope as the unfortunate Magpie is dragged under the ship.
After the Bloody Hour is over, Allie, Kroop and Grok bring up the evening meal - a fish stew. It's not too bad, if a little bland.
The five of you all naturally end up sitting next to one another, as it appears no one else wants to be seen with you. Until, that is, a striking young woman approaches your table.
"Name's Sandara," the woman says, sitting down. "That Scourge's a right piece of work, in't he? Tried to make a pass at me last night. Earned the back of my hand for that. And, well, I earned the 'cat' for that." She smiles easily. "Twas worth it, though." She has a fiery red mane of hair that sits beneath an exquisite tricorn hat. She dresses to accentuate her figure, and her whole appearance speaks of the sea, from the seagull feather in her hat to the sailor tattoos on her arms and the clay pipe thrust into the corner of her mouth.
"You can't have too many friends on a ship like this, and you lot look like you could use one."
Allie smiles at the woman, and bounces to her feet to enthusiastically greet her, speaking in a quick, and somewhat insipid tone.
"Hiya! You can call me, Cat. Yes, I agree. Friends are valauble on this boat full of very mean people. Would you like to sit with us?"
Allie motions to an open spot on the deck next to where she was sitting.
"Speaking of friends," she says dropping back to her knees and leaning in conspiratorially. "I just happened to find out that the big greens-kinned lady, Grok, would be relieved to be rid of a certin mask that she's been charged with keeping in the stowage down below. Seems she's a bit worried about what powers it possesses. Just thought it worth a mention..." she whispers, giving a crooked smile and a wink at Ulgast.
"I figure she's got all our stuff down there. The Captain probably wants to sell it all when he gets back to port."
. Yasmin shudders as she sees Jakes Magpie get a keelhauling from Scourge. No wonder he'd been so quiet. Clearly this ship ride would not be nearly as fun as her past experiences. As dinner comes, Yasmin finds herself amongst her fellow newcomers. "Please forgive the stench - it's not pretty down in the bilges." She sighs, and takes a bite of the fish. After a long day of misery, it's surprisingly pleasant. "This is quite tasty, how'd you make it?" she asks the pretty blonde.
She's grateful when Sandara makes her introduction. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Yasmin al Akbar. Any enemy of that Scourge is a friend of mine. Poor Jakes..." she trails off. But she perks up as Cat starts talking about their possessions.
"Thanks!" Allie replies to Yasmin's compliment. "Really, I just chopped up everything on the galley table and thew it in the stew pot. I'm glad it turned out well, Mr. Plugg seems to have gotten the impression that I can cook." She shrugs and smiles, as if perplexed by all of it.
"It was terrible what they did to that man," she says with a look of dismay. "Confessing to stealing certainly doesn't save one's skin around here, does it?"
The fate of Jakes clearly having left a sour taste in Elisandra's mouth, the young priestess mindlessly circles the food on her plate with her spoon with little interest.
Looking up as Yasmin compliments the stew, Eli smiles weakly as she glances over at Cat "Aye, the food is good Cat... I'm just not terribly hungry at the moment." Leaning back, Eli drops her spoon and nods agreeably "No, confessing to stealing certainly doesn't do one much good around here. I think Mr. Scourge and Mr. Plugg enjoy their duties a bit too much."
Shaking her head dismissively, Eli looks over to Sandara and smiles lightly "It's a pleasure to meet you Sandara, I'm Eli Casdemay. I hate to cut our introductions short, but I really ought to see if Ms. Cusswell needs some medical attention."
Getting up from the table, Elisandra moves across to where Rosie Cusswell is situated, and greets the halfling girl, speaking quietly to her so that only she can hear "G'day again Rosie. Listen, I didn't mention this earlier, but I'm a physician by trade. If you'd like, I can tend to those wounds, help them heal up faster."
Dorin sits down to eat. having witnessed the bloody hour, he is a bit distraught at the treatment of the crew, but the violence does not surprise him.
A shame fer the poor fella, but I be havin' other concerns regardin' our lot. Sandara, I am Dorin Stonehammer, and I be welcomin' yer friendship. Any ideas when we may be gettin' our belongins' back? Me hammer been in me family fer years. Can't see how'd we be any good a piratin' without our stuff. Do ya be knowin' where it's stored?
Ulgrast seems beyond conversation as he devours the food greedily. Until he hears the mention of the mask. He looks at Cat and says grimly in his gutteral accent, "No pretty games, mouse-catcher, where do I find the mask?"
Cat, do the rest of our stuff be with...who di ya say - Grok, below?
Sandara nods conspiratorially as Allie mentions Grok. "I managed to get back a couple of items for ya'," she says, smiling broadly. "That horrible...I mean...interesting...mask included. It's in the bunks below. Seems Grok's a bit superstitious and was more than eager to be rid of it. I also talked her into handing over this suspicious looking piece of equipment." She withdraws a fancy-looking set of thieves tools. "I told her these were necessary for cooking the meal. I doubt she believed me, but she's not as bad as most of the apples in this barrel. If you were able to meet her, I'm sure she could be persuaded to hand over some of your belongings - though, getting that hammer could prove tricky, I'm afraid. Not sure she wants to be responsible for arming the new castaways."
Not long after Sandara finishes speaking, Rosie Cuswell ambles over to your table. "Don' suppose ye' can spare a bit o' that healing power, can ye' Sandara?" she asks, her face displaying both pride and pain. When Elisandra offers her assistance she nods and cracks a small smile. "So, got two of ye' aboard who can help soothe the wounds, eh? F@@#in' good fortune, that is. Name's Rosie. Cusswell. Toughest b#+#! on this boat - male or female. Don't f+@$in' forget it. Now, about that healin'..."
After dinner is over, a barrel is brought around. Sandara eyes it warily. "Plugg serves up this rot to keep the crew docile. And weak. This stuff will rot your gut. Be careful. I'm off to take some of these poor lad's coin - they can't gamble for shit. Talk to you lot later."
Rosie sets off after her, saying, "The nights aboard the ship t'ain't awful. Leave us pretty much to our own devices. Try'n stay outta trouble, though. No need to face the whip, yerselves. Not sure any o' you softies could f*@+in' handle it!" She laughs loudly at her own joke as she leaves.
Dispose: DC 10 Stealth Check. No bonus/penalty.
Sip/Make Grog: A pirate often waters the rum down with water, ale, or whatever other liquid might be handy/less potent. A pirate who nurses his rum, or dilutes it to make Grog makes a DC 10 Fortitude Save, or is fatigued. 8 hours rest removes this fatigue. (Essentially failure means the PC needs to rest for a full night). This is a poison effect.
Drink Deeply: A true pirate drinks his rum and likes it! He makes a Fortitude save at DC 15 or takes 1d3-1 Con Damage. He also gains a 1d4 alchemical bonus to Charisma for 8 hours (pass or failure). The next morning the PC must make a DC 10 will save or be fatigued until the PC can get 8 hours rest. This is a poison effect.
This has been added to the campaign info tab.
• Sleep - Go to bed early and sleep through the night (automatically recover Fatigue or Exhaustion)
• Gamble - Play or gamble on a pirate game of chance or entertainment (see spoiler)
• Entertain - Make 1 Perform check to entertain the crew (see spoiler)
• Influence* - Attempt to influence a single NPC.
• Sneak* - Take time exploring one area of the ship. PC may Take 20 on Perception or any other skill check but the PC must make a check to avoid being discovered.
• Steal* - Attempt to open a locked door or locker. The PC must make a check to avoid being discovered.
You can also attempt to take up to two additional ship actions during the middle watch in the dead of night (any nighttime ship action marked with an asterisk), but to do so the PC must make a successful Constitution check (DC 10, +4 per extra ship action taken) or be fatigued for the next day.
This has been added to the campaign info tab.
You may play and/or gamble on the following entertainments. Minimum bet is 1gp (or an item of equivalent value).
• Arm Wrestling - Not the typical contest, rather this is usually done on a barrel with broken glass, caltrops or some other dangerous hazard. It's an opposed Str check with the higher result winning and the loser taking 1d2+the opponent's Str modifier in damage.
• Hog Lob - A game where contestants attempt to hurl a lead ingot covered in a greased up piglet skin the farthest. A bet is agreed on before starting. Contestants roll a d20 and add their CMB to this. The ingot counts as an Improvised weapon and suffers the appropriate -4 penalty to the roll. If you have the Throw Anything feat it negates this. Your final numerical result is the number of feet you threw it, with the winner being the one who threw it the farthest.
• Heave - A potentially deadly game where you try to drink your opponents under the table. Bets are made beforehand. Each person swigs a half pint of rum. You then make a DC 15 Fort save or take increased damage from your rum rations. Each next swig increases the DC by +3. The game lasts until only 1 pirate is standing.
This has been added to the campaign info tab.
Make a Perform check to entertain the crew. This is generally sea shanties, songs, or something similar. If you hit DC 20, you gain a +2 bonus to all Cha-based checks made to interact with any listener in the crew (including as part of the Influence action) for the next 24-hours.
If your Perform check result is a 9 or lower, however, the next time you attempt to Entertain the crew, you must first make either a Bluff or Intimidate check DC 15 to get them to stop ignoring you, at which point you can then make a Perform check.
This has been added to the campaign info tab.
Ulgrast thanks Sandara profusely for returning his mask to him.
When Rosie mentions having two who can heal wounds, the scarred half or pipes up in his gutteral common, "I can heal wounds as well with magics, but I need my spirit-pouch back from Grok lady first. It be bad fortune for her to keep spirit-pouch from me... Show me where Grok lady is and I will ask for spirit-pouch back so I can help Rosie when hurt."
With that Ulgrast poors his rum in with the rest of the swill (makes grog) and drinks it down.