Bellara (Rigger):
Shaeda (Swab):
Alessandra (Swab):
Diego (Swab):
Rogar (Cook's Mate):
Swabs
Sandra Quinn
Rosie Cusswell
Crimson “Cog” Cogward
Giffer Tibbs
Jack Scrimshaw
Tilly Brackett
“Badger” Medlar
Shivikah
Aretta Bansion
Fipps Chumlett
Jaundiced Jape
Jakes Magpie
Riggers
“Barefoot” Sams Toppin
“Ratline” Ratsberger
Maheem
Slippery Sly Lonegan
Tam “Narwhal” Tate
Conchobar Turlach Shortstone
You descend again to the deck, where Plugg is waiting with an expectant gleam in his eye as you line up in front of him. "Well that was a bloody miserable display!" he spits "The bloody Dwarf is clearly going to be bloody useless fee anything above deck so e's going to be the bloody cook's mate. Hope e' can cook better'n he can climb! As fed you," he says, poking Bellara in the chest, "you're the new rigger. Fer today ye going t' be workin' up top with Maheem and Narwhal. As fer you," he turns to Shaeda, "you're join t' be catchin' rats belowdecks with Cog, Jape and Magpie. You," he says, confronting Alessandra, "are goin' t' be a runner fer today, along with Tibbs, Tilly an' Aretta. After ye've cleaned up that mess ye left belowdecks, that is. And as fer you, ye think yer smart 'eh?" he says, rounding on Diego with an evil grin "we'll see how long ye keep that smile on yer face after a day cleanin' the bilges with Fipps and Jack."
Bellara: DC 10 Climb or Acrobatics check and DC 10 Profession (sailor) or Dex
Shaeda: DC 10 Stealth, Survival or Dexterity
Alessandra: DC 10 Acrobatics and DC 10 Con or fatigued
Diego: DC 12 Strength and DC Con or fatigued
You can approach these tasks by...
Work Diligently: Take 10 on daily tasks (but not Con checks)
Influence: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and attempt to influence a single NPC (Diplomacy) who you are working with.
Sneak: Make normal checks for a job’s daily task and briefly explore one area 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 Sneak check to avoid being discovered.
If you are Seasick you are at a -4 on these checks!
Aye aye sir, rat catchin', Very good sir!
So there's my rat catchin' for the day.
I'll wait to roll my diplomacy until I know more about my workmates for the day.
Oops, I just spotted that you'll post descriptions later. I'll check back and see who I've got!
The poke to her chest snaps the Taldan girl back to the present, torn as she was between reliving that odd flip in her stomach from Diego draping his arm across her shoulder, the gut churning terror at watching the dwarf fall, and the worry that she surprisingly felt when Plugg hit the half-orc. That glib reply she tossed at Alessandra while they were still up in the crow’s nest was almost forgotten.
”Oh, don’t you worry, there are many things I can’t do - spending time with someone named Fishguts being one of them,” Bellara says with a smirk. ”Why do you think I climbed up here so quickly? And trust me, holding my tongue is proving quite difficult under the circumstances. Having said that, do try not to rouse their ire, my dear. They are far too quick with that cat around here.”
For now, Bellara squares her shoulders, nodding curtly at Plugg. Inwardly, she was relieved to be as far away from the tasks of cooking and rat catching as she could possibly be. "Right then, up top with Maheem and Narwhal." Her gaze can't help but travel to where Doc disappeared before she works her way up the mast once more.
Maheem: A big Rahdoumi man with a permanent scowl.
Tam “Narwhal” Tate: An ugly dwarf with a lrage prominent nose
These two keep together, shooting you dark looks as you work. They seem hostile.
Crimson “Cog” Cogward: A human male with a standoffish, unfriendly attitude. He wears a blue scarf around his head.
”Jaundiced” Jape: A nasty-looking half-orc with brass rings in his long ears. He doesn’t say a word.
Jakes Magpie: A slight man with a scowl and a long scar running from his brow to his chin.
Giffer Tibbs: A bedraggled looking male gnome with a rough leather eyepatch and orange hair.
Tilly Brackett: A pretty human woman with a ruddy, freckled complexion. Occasionally she cracks off-colour jokes about bodily functions.
Aretta Bansion: A bad-tempered and scantily-dressed human woman with big ears and a bad attitude.
Fipps Chumlett: A fat human male with a shaved head who scowls as he works and keeps “accidentally” bumping into you.
Jack Scrimshaw: A young human lad with a wide smile. He works hard at his task throughout the day, despite frequently being jostled by Fipps.
Diego smirks at the mention of the bilges. For the moment he's lost for witty remarks, though still eager not to show his disdain. The silver-lining, he supposes, is that Scpurge isn't likely to visit down there. So... there's that.
Belowdecks, Diego removes hi shirt to wrap around his face and mask the smell. The tentacled tattoo is extensive, winding about his entire torso and wrapping both arms. It's grueling work, but he surprisingly keeps up in spite of his sickness. He grins from ear to ear, eager to surprise Plugg as if such a task were menial. But in truth, it's has absolutely exhausted him.
"I assume Plugg must send the ones who intimidate him most down here, eh? ". He asks the others, smirking behind his makeshift mask as his tattooed eyes do the same. "Then we might as well get to know each other, as chaps like us are likely to always occupy that space. So who do I have the pleasure of shoveling s*** with?" He usually doesn't prefer the word, as there's so many more expressive and intriguing ones, but at the moment he rather liked the alliteration.
[ooc]Attempting to influence one of the two. Dips then, he seems the greater challenge which would be Diego's whim for the day. But he'll be seeking out Mr. Scrimshaw later if he actually does scrimshaw!
After catching a rat or two, Shaeda addresses the man with the scar, "Magpie is it? I go by Shaeda, I'm thinking there sure must be a heck of a story about that scar you've got there, we may as well chat, catching rats is boring business otherwise.
Bellara works steadily, thankful for her sure footing and the balance that years of sailing on various ships bestowed upon her. After a few furtive glances at the pair working with her on the rigging while tying off some line, she decides to at least make conversation with the one so very aptly named "Narwhal."
Considering her present company, Bell lets that Taldan diction of hers slip in favor of something she hopes wouldn't alienate her even further from her new shipmates.
"Name's Bell. I figured if we're to work together, we could at least swap names."
Knowing that making friends wasn't her strong suit, she goes back to focusing on her work, hoping that she didn't gaze at the dwarf's prominent nose for too long.
Torn between wanting to meet Bellara's insult in kind but not wanting to offend her new-found companion, Alessandra first makes sure they're not being overheard (an easy task in the crow's nest!) and chooses her words carefully: "You should be grateful for these guts - they've got you a place in the rigging away from the men below; you're too good-looking for your own good, sweetie! I suppose we could cut off that blonde hair of yours, it's not exactly standard issue for Taldan nobility anyway, hmmm?"
Immediately changing the subject to avoid any discomfort and give Bellara some space, Alessandra takes a moment to catch her breath and admire, again, the view of the sea. "Beautiful, isn't it? Why did no one ever tell me?"
Back on deck, and grimacing at the mention of 'running' (her quip to Shaeda about not outrunning a shark wasn't far from the truth), Alessandra hunches over in a sort of bow and does as she's told, trying not to catch Plugg's attention.
Unfortunately, all the young girl's acrobatics experience is based on the ground beneath her staying level: the fact that the horizon appears to be moving disorients her completely. Every time she tries to run, she falls in a tangle of limbs - and at just under six feet tall, that's a lot of limbs to keep co-ordinated. Whether it's the residue of last night's drugs in her system, the unfamiliar environment, or her sea-sickness, her body is refusing utterly to obey her commands.
Thankfully her stamina is not in question; for her, a day of climbing, falling, running, being hit is just another Tuesday. If you'd told her yesterday that the next day, no one would be allowed to kill her and that she'd make friends, she'd have taken it gladly.
You slowly emerge back into wakefulness to be confronted by a jowly face dripping with sweat and stinking of rum and garlic. Noticing that you're awake the figure smiles and leans back. "Well now. So ye've woken up then" he says taking a swig from the bottle he clutches in his hand. He wipes the bottle's neck on his stained, sweaty shirt and offers it forward before continuing in a drunken slur. "Name's Ambrose but everyone calls me Fishguts. Seems you're goin' t' be 'elping me in the galley. Bloody Plug don't like m' cooking I reckon. Jus' 'member, It's poison this ship." here his voice drops to a whisper "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 tha n Cap'n Harrigan in all your days at sea, and 'is crew's the same, 'specially the first mate 'Mr Plugg'. Vicious sod, he is. He'd take is own mother's liver t' the butcher t' make pies with, he would. But they leave me alone, mostly, They know I can't 'arm 'em. slowly his voice drifts into silence and he slumps back in his seat and begins snoring loudly.
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It takes a few heartbeats for Bellara to collect herself. Alessandra was already going on about the wonders of the sea. She shakes her head, then deliberately rakes her long blonde locks away from her forehead with her slender fingers. Lifting her chin in defiance, the wind whips at Bell's hair until it flows like an incriminating halo around her. She turns to look Alessandra in the eye. The Taldan girl's voice is husky with emotion as she clarifies, "I meant the cook, Alessandra. His name is Fishguts."
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oh, GODS - talk your way out of this one, *******!
Alessandra is by her mistake - the first person in years to show her any kindness at all without expecting something in return, and what does she go and do? Maybe all the thoughts she's having are right, maybe she's too different, maybe she doesn't need friends anyway, just too much of a complication, right?
Those thoughts don't last a second when she looks at Bellara and sees the hurt she's caused. She's hurt her friend. And she needs to do something. For the 16 years of her life, Alessandra has had two options: fight, or run. Past experience is useless here - she needs to try something new. She has no idea what.
Silence falls as she stares, stricken mute, at her friend.
Well say something, you ************* idiot!
Alessandra clears her throat, which is suddenly husky. Where to begin? With a beginning? Worth a shot: "I - I'm from the gutter. I don't talk about it much because I got out, made good - good-ish. Ok, not good at all but I survived. I can fight - 's all I can do, really. But everything becomes a fight, you know? Even words. Specially words. But it's instinct, look for weaknesses and you attack, you don't hold back, not ever, you know?" Alessandra presses a hand to where the lash caught her face earlier as a pretext for wiping away the tears that are forming.
"The thing about fighting, everything's a threat, everything's an attack. And you have to hit back, to hit first, yeah? So you won the race and I thought - I thought you'd do what everyone does, you taunt the one you beat - 's normal. Why didn't you do the normal thing? I don't know how to deal with the not-normal!" The teenager drops her head, as she did earlier this morning, and lets her dark hair cover her face: even isolated at the top of the crow's nest, she doesn't want anyone to see her cry.
Her muffled voice continues: " 'm a bad person. 's the only way I survived, all that time. You're not. You're nice. You looked out for me earlier, I saw what they did to Diego when he wouldn't get up. I - I owe you one and I'm , ok? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm , I should never have said it, I'm sorry..." Alessandra's face is still hidden, but the heaving shoulders and muffled sobbing sounds tell their own story.
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Carefully, as if testing each bone and muscle, Rogar stands up. Leaning to the table, he studies his new whereabouts, trying to remember what happened. Oh yeah... Twice fallen, twice risen... Had better days... On the other hand, have had worse, too.
The dwarf looks at his new companion, and seeing a kindred soul, smiles. I can see yer a man o' refined taste. We'll be gettin' along jus' fine.. he says patting Fishguts on the back. He takes a swig from the offered bottle, and starts investigating the galley.
She places a comforting hand on Alessandra's still heaving shoulder. "It's alright, my dear. One day, you and I will have a talk. Today, however, is not that day," Bell muses, leaning over to watch Diego climb up valiantly to join them. There it was again, that appreciative smirk for the way the tattooed man chose finesse over brute strength.
"And as far as not doing the normal thing goes, I suppose it's because we are all in the same predicament here. It seems to me that we need to pull together if we have any hope of surviving this ordeal intact, yes?"
A tongue-tied, embarrassed half-orc is a rare sight indeed: Bellara is privileged.
Face flaming crimson, even through her grey/green skin, Alessandra climbs back down the rigging, secretly hoping that the ground will swallow her up. (Maybe that's why her acrobatics ability fails her so completely later on)
The day passes quickly as you begin to acquaint yourselves with your new tasks.
Diego manages to work well through the day, but the heat and the stink of the bilges get to him and, although he tries to ingratiate himself with Fipps, the big man seems unmoved. As Diego continues to talk, the man suddenly turns and pins hiim against the wall of the bilge with his finger. Stepping close enough that his breath overwhelms even the stench of the bilges. "Now you listen 'ere ya bloody pansy." he says "you just stay out've my bloody way or I'll bloody flatten you. I don't like ye. I don't want to talk to ye. An' I don't like yer bloody friends neither. You tell them t' bloody watch 'emselves or they'll end up with a bloody black eye. Now shut the ^&*( up!"
Down in the hold, Shaeda seems to fare no better with "Magpie". The fact that she manages to catch more vermin than the scarred man seems to annoy him, and he makes a point of working as far from the halfling as he can.
Meanwhile, up in the rigging, Bellara works well, drawing snarls from both of the sailors working with her. "I don't care what yer bloody name is" he says, when she attempts to start up a conversation, "ye won't last long enough fer it t' matter I reckon." with that he turns and, agilely for a dwarf, climbs off to the end of a spar to join Maheem.
Alessandra, still sickened by the constant swaying motion of the ship, has to stop frequently as her stomach tries to empty itself. No matter how she tries, it seems like she's always in someone's way.
As night draws closer Fishguts wakes from his drink-induced coma and suddenly sits upright. "^*(^&*&! Dwarf, how long have we got till the bells? Quick! we gotta get food on fer the crew or its a floggin' fer us both! The two of you work quickly to get a thin fish stew ready as quickly as possible before the bell rings, marking the end of the working day aboard ship.
As the sun begins to set, a red glow shines across the waters. A clock on the mast, a macabre brass-and-copper object depicting worms writhing through whale corpses and hanging from the mainmast above the whipping post, rings the onset of dusk. As the crew gather on the deck, Mr Scourge suddenly emerges from the hold, dragging the sobbing form of Jakes Magpie. He throws the cowering form to some of the crew who hold him tight despite his struggles, before turning to the assembled crew. "Looks like we got a show tonight Lads! This man that stands before you, Jakes Magpie, will suffer for the crimes he has committed against the Captain and his crew. He thought that his wants stood above the law of the sea, and has been caught stealing from the quartermaster's stores. He admitted as much to Master Scourge and I with but a few simple questions. For his crimes, he will be keel-hauled." The grin on Mr. Plugg's face at this last is reminiscent of a cat toying with a mouse.
As Master Scourge finishes, Mr. Plugg motions for the sailors holding Jakes and they pull him behind up toward the bow of the ship. Once they stand just behind the figurehead at the bow, Mr. Plugg wraps one end of the rope around Jakes' wrists, and the other around his legs, handing the other end to Scourge. Plugg then kicks Jakes over the railing. The two hold their ends of the rope and walk slowly and precisely down the length of the ship. Down from the foredeck, across the main deck, and back up the poop deck to the stern. As they reach the end of the walk, they slowly haul the rope back up the side, coiling it at their feet as they do so. What rises up over the side has been cut to shreds, and PLugg briefly displays it to the crew with a smirk before he tosses the lifeless body overboard, most likely the food for sharks.
After the task is done Mr. Plugg dusts his hands and announces dinner time. He instructs Fishguts and his cook's mate to give the cabin-girl, Caulky, the officer's meals and then feed the crew and dole out the rum rations.
A half pint of grog (watered down rum) is given each evening, and is expected to be drunk. When taking rum rations there are three options.
Drink Normally: Reduces you Will save by 1 for 24 hours (Which heals overnight) with no other effect.
Drink Deeply: Reduces you Will save by 1d6 for 24 hourse and requires a DC 5 Will save or the drinker becomes addicted, but gives you +2 to any checks to influence the crew for the next 24 hours.
Fake it: Requires a DC 10 Stealth or Sleight of Hand Check, but getting caught dumping rum will earn you lashes in punishment.
Sleep: Go to bed early and sleep through the night (automatically recover from fatigue).
Gamble: Play or gamble on a game of chance or pirate entertainment.
Entertain: Make a Perform check to entertain the crew.
Influence: Attempt to Influence a single NPC (Can be done with Diplomacy [be nice], Bluff [act nice], or Intimidate [act tough]).
Sneak: Take time exploring one area of the ship. You can take 20 on a single Perception check or other skill check, but must make a check to avoid being discovered.
Steal: Attempt to open a locked door or locker. Must make a check to avoid discovery.
I'll post further descriptions of the crew so you can choose who to make friends with as soon as I can. I've put the grog and nighttime actions in the Campaign Info tab for future reference.
Crew descriptions... also in the Campaign Info Tab for future reference. I'll update attitudes as you find out and/or change them.
BTW: You can't try to influence officers as nighttime actions - they leave the rest of the crew alone during this time.
Making sure there's no ambiguity about her actions, Shaeda cheerily announces, "bottoms up me hearties," and she proceeds to drink normally.
"That's a damn funny thing about Magpie," thinks Shaeda. "Just a few hours ago we were catching rats together, and the damn fool had to go off and try to steal.". Right then, she shudders as a horrible thought runs through her head, "what if old Plugg faked the crime, or did him in just because I tried talking to him today?". Rejecting the idea, Shaeda decides to take the time to seek out either Cog or Jape after dinner, the other two rat hunters from the day, and make conversation with them.
During dinner, however, Shaeda will be sure to at least make eye contact with each of the other members of the "pressing class of Wealday." If Doc hasn't shown up at dinner, she'll try and discern his condition from rumors and such.
Shaeda approaches whichever rat catcher she found and starts a conversation, "what the hell with Magpie eh? Stealing from the quartermaster ain't a likely way to be making friends eh? And to think we was just bumping elbows with him a few hours before he got sent down to see Davey Jones!
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It's been a rough day, and once Rogar is holding today's grog ration on his hand, a smile appears on his face. Deep he drinks, flushing away all the sorrows of the day.
With bottle-born vigour, he climbs up from the galley, and first goes to check if Alessandara, Diego, Shaeda and Bellara are ok. We're all the same... New here and pray to the wicked ones
"Good t' see yer still alive. Hope yer doin' better than I was... Heh, better leave t' flyin' t' the dwarves, right?"
Managing to carry a couple of extra mugs of grog from the galley, Rogar bumbs into already-intoxicated Tilly Brackett. "Oi, ye look like ye'll 'preciate a good drink! 'ere, help yerself wi' this" Doc says smiling wide, offering some grog to the woman. "So, wass yer name, lass?...."
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Shaeda claps Doc on the back gently, so as to not jostle the dwarf who has had a heck of a day already. "You won me a bet today Doc, and I appreciate it," Shaeda grins. "Indeed, a few years back it was. Me and some fellers was sailing two points into the wind trying to catch some Chelish slavers. Sterv "The Perv" Benchrock offered to do horrible things to a dolphin while riding it to catch the slavers. I offered up that it bes better to launch him from the ship's artillery instead. He refused and said dwarves don't fly, and if I ever made a liar out of him that he'd pay me two falcons," beaming at the height of her story Shaeda concludes, "and now that bastard owes me some money, if I ever seen him again that is."
Diego is disgusted by the display of gratuitous punishment up on the main deck. He tries to hide the distaste as he leans over a barrel, utterly exhausted from the days work, with his shirt draped over his shoulders and his wavy hair clinging to the perspiration on his face. He can swear that at one point Plugg notices the grimace on his face, and sneers with satisfaction in reply.
He does make a mental note, however, not to steal from the quartermaster's stores. It also seems an odd punishment after Captain Harrigan said this morning that the ship was undermanned.
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Below deck Diego reclines with his boots propped up on a barrel, crossed at the ankles. He drinks his grog normally, quite glad to enjoy the liquid. He's greatly overspent from the day, but not about to turn in on the first night aboard the Wormwood. "I don't suppose any of you play any instruments, would you?" He asks of the others.
Then he turns to Bellara, "And I have a proposition for you, if you're savvy. You seem like you'd have a strong voice, and part of this tale always sounds better with the presence of a female voice. You don't need to be able to sing, just say it convincingly." The young man's cheeks stretch with a confident smile, eager to teach her the small part of she's interested.
The part is small, and not difficult to memorize, but a bit dark. "Trust me," Diego says with a smirk, "all pirate tales are dark, and a voice like yours will likely make it even more haunting." Then he winks, and rises from the table in a burst with his half-empty mug held aloft.
he shouts over the din of the crew, With everyone's attention now, he no longer needs to shout, calmly resuming his seat but speaking in a voice that intrigues and entices. "'Tis the tale of a man much like our good friend Plugg, and the young man who hunts him."
The story starts bold, as Diego beams a confident smile and pushes the hair out from in front of his face. Then, leaning forward over the table as if he's about to share something extravagant, it begins:
"We are two mariners / our ship's sole survivors / in this belly of a whale.
Its ribs: our ceiling beams / its guts: our carpeting / I guess we have some time to kill.
Well, you may not remember me / I was a child of three / and you, a lad of eighteen.
But I remember you / and I will relate to you / just how our histories interweave.
At the time you were a rake and a roustabout / spending all your money on the whores and hounds."
"You had a charming air / all cheap and debonair / which my widowed mother found so sweet.
And so she took you in / her sheets still warm with him / now filled with filth and foul disease.
As time wore on you proved a debt-ridden, drunken mess / Leaving my mother a poor consumptive wretch."
"And then you disappeared / Your gambling arrears / the only thing you left behind.
And then the magistrate / reclaimed our small estate. / And my poor mother lost her mind.
Then, one day in spring, my dear sweet mother died.
But before she did I took her hand as she, dying, cried:"
"Find him / Bind him / Tie him to a pole
and break his fingers / to splinters / drag him to a hole
until he wakes up / naked / clawing at the ceiling of his grave."
Diego lets the silence hang for a moment, anticipating a bit of shock that he'd like to let linger... then continues with the same bold spirit as before:
"It took me fifteen years / to swallow all my tears / amongst the urchins in the street.
Until a priory / took pity and hired me / to keep their vestry nice and neat."
Then, leaning in close again as if sharing a secret. [b]"But never once in the employ of these holy men
Did I ever, once turn my mind from the thought of revenge."
"One night I overheard / the prior exchanging words / with a penitent whaler from the sea.
The captain of his ship / who matched you toe to tip / was known for wanton cruelty.
The following day I shipped to sea with a privateer,
And in the whistle of the wind I could almost hear:"
"Find him / Bind him / Tie him to a pole
and break his fingers / to splinters / drag him to a hole
until he wakes up / naked / clawing at the ceiling of his grave."
"There is one thing I must say to you / as you sail across the sea
Always your mother will watch over you / as you avenge this wicked deed."
Diego continues:
"And then that fateful night / we had you in our sight / after twenty months at sea.
Your starboard flank abeam / I was getting my muskets clean / when came this rumbling from beneath..."
The storyteller begins to rattle the floor with his boots, creating a steady roll and inviting others to join.
"The ocean shook, the sky went black, and the captain quailed.
And before us grew the angry jaws of a giant whale!"
Diego yells out, as if for a moment the deck where you are drinking is being torn apart. Then, after a pause, narrows his eyes as one side of his mouth begins to grin.
"Don't know how I survived / the crew was all chewed alive / I must have slipped between its teeth
But Oh, what providence! / What divine intelligence / that you should survive as well as me.
It gives my heart great joy to see your eyes fill with fear.
So lean in close and I will whisper the last words you'll hear..."
He slowly turns to smile at Bellara, though he had asked her to do nothing but smile at this point herself. The crew would hear her say it, without her having to ever open her mouth.
"Doc! You're up - you're aliiiive!" The half-orc teenager astonishes herself (and probably some others) by giving the dwarf an exuberant hug (which might just be distinguishable from a rugby tackle, but only to an experienced observer). Today has been a good day. She might be slightly muzzy from the rum. She drank the grog (normal ration) hoping that it would settle her nausea. On an empty stomach, it's given her a nice warm glow.
"Are you alright? You didn't miss much - Shaeda went rat-catching and Diego was sent to the bilges (whatever that is, doesn't sound nice though) and I fell over a lot trying to deliver messages and got in everyone's way, oh and I upset Bellara but I think we're still friends, I hope so - what did you get up to? Once you'd recovered, I mean? Did you meet any of the crew? Are they nice? Did you see the keel-hauling? I'd wondered what it was when the Captain mentioned it, I've never seen one before, have you? Fascinating. Bit pointless though, don't you think he would have drowned way before it was over? That's what I'd try and do, get it over quickly."
Alessandra makes a point of checking up on her other companions; if she can get them out of earshot of the crew she'll ask for details: "Are you ok? Did anyone bother you?"
Bellara eats her dinner woodenly, shoveling in the water fish stew only because she knew that a long day of working the rigging required her to replenish herself. Halfway through the bowl, she heaves a sigh of relief at seeing Doc back on his feet again. She raises her spoon in a small wave of greeting at the dwarf, though her face remains pale and drawn. Witnessing a keelhauling firsthand affected her more than she cares to admit.
She shrugs at Alessandra when they get a moment for a quick exchange. "I'm not making friends here anytime soon. But other than that, I'm fine. What of you? Is your stomach is feeling a little better?"
When Diego appears, Bell wrinkles her nose only slightly. Though there were definite olfactory offenses committed, at least the man's looks made up for it. Once she hears his offer, the Taldan girl downs her grog in a few gulps. "It's been quite a while since I've been in front of people," she confides nervously. Despite her admission, the girl gamely gets to her feet to accompany Diego.
Distracted as she was by the recent keelhauling, Bell fumbles through the first few words. She definitely didn't drink enough grog to be doing this. A flush starts where her cravat leaves off and steadily rises to her cheeks. Her voice comes out strong, certainly. But Bell's attention is clearly elsewhere judging by the awkward pauses that occur whenever it was time to do her part.
Once the performance was over, Bell leans into Diego, her long hair brushing against the ink on his arms. "I...I'm truly sorry about that. Today hasn't been one of my better days."
Alessandra notes Bellara's drawn expression, but when she says she's fine, decides not to press it. Done enough harm for one day, I reckon.
She listens to the song, enjoying the revenge theme, but disapproves of the reference to breaking the fingers: can't carve broken fingers, they just splinter apart. She makes a mental note to tell Diego this, and resolves that when she ultimately takes care of Mr Plugg, his fingers and thumbs will be intact.
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"Are you alright? You didn't miss much - Shaeda went rat-catching and Diego was sent to the bilges (whatever that is, doesn't sound nice though) and I fell over a lot trying to deliver messages and got in everyone's way, oh and I upset Bellara but I think we're still friends, I hope so - what did you get up to? Once you'd recovered, I mean? Did you meet any of the crew? Are they nice?"
"Oof... Easy there, lass! I'm still a bit sore from the fall.. Ha, yer full o' questions aren't ye? I'm fine, 'twas jus' a little fall.. Dwarves grow up tumbling down the mountains all the time. Jus' feelin' sorry fer the keelhauled lad, not a nice way t' go", Rogar wipes a tear from his eye as he says this.
"Better not go stealin' from th' quartermaster's stores. Can't help but wonder if that's where me stuff is, tho. Oh, but how're ye, lass? Feelin' any better yet? Ye don't look so pale no more." the dwarf gives the girl a strong squeeze back, even if he feels he's breaking a few his bones there.
...
Distracted as she was by the recent keelhauling, Bell fumbles through the first few words. She definitely didn't drink enough grog to be doing this. A flush starts where her cravat leaves off and steadily rises to her cheeks. Her voice comes out strong, certainly. But Bell's attention is clearly elsewhere judging by the awkward pauses that occur whenever it was time to do her part.
Once the performance was over, Bell leans into Diego, her long hair brushing against the ink on his arms. "I...I'm truly sorry about that. Today hasn't been one of my better days."
Diego is grinning wide with a spark in his outlined eyes. "Yeah, that was atrocious!" he mocks. "We're likely to all be killed now... and you'll go knowing it was probably your fault."
He leans back again, still laughing, and rests a hand on Bellara's arm to ease the jest. "In earnest, I was impressed. I sprung that on you without even a moment to prepare. And I picked you because I thought you'd have a presence in your voice. I didn't expect you to have tone. I have a suspicion that you can really sing if given the chance." Then he clicks his tongue and feigns a worried expression, removing his hand and leaning back with his mug, "But that's unlikely, since... you know, they're gonna kill us now." He keeps nodding his head afterward, taking another sip of the grog.
In hindsight, it was poor choice of tale to share right after a keelhauling. But he wanted to show that their spirit wasn't defeated. That's what this whole thing's about after all... the labor, the grog, the whippings. Break a man's spirit and you can make him whatever you wish. So he sings of revenge, because he hopes to bring courage.
Yes, as my swift days near their goal,
'Tis all that I implore:
In life and death a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.
Shaeda:
You work your way over to Jape who is sitting alone not talking to anyone. When you begin to talk he merely grunts, stands up and moves away to be alone again. Sandra, the woman who helped Rogar when he fell leans over and says, in a stage whisper "You won't have much of a conversation with that one love. He's mute - they say it were bitten out by a whore with a hunchback. ha! Don't know how anyone would've found that out though!"
Rogar:
Tilly welcomes you, and your grog, with a big smile. "Don't let 'em catch ye talkin' too much" she says "or you'll be joining 'Magpie' in a shark's mouth before ye know it! Mind you, I've never said no to drink and i'm not join to start now! Name's Tilly, and I've been on this ship for a while now,.. You stick with me and I'll see yer alright. Mostly its just keeping yer head down and stain' out a' trouble. Ye might want to see Grok, the quartermaster too if yer wantin to get ye things back. Plugg don't like us carrying weapons around but a sharp knife's always a handy thing t' have."
Diego & Bellara:
Your performance goes down reasonably well, but many of the crew are of the opinion that they've hear a lot better. Rosie Cusswell seems morose and, when asked, says that she sometimes plays the fiddle but it was taken from her when she was shanghai'd three weeks ago.
Cog seems to like the story more than the others - he seems to relish the dark theme.
Allessandra:
Seasickness lasts until tomorrow morning when you'll have to make another check (DC5 Fort) - you will have to keep doing so (and suffer the consequences) every day until you pass one! - You can choose to attempt an action like the others, but with a -4 penalty.
"Oof... Easy there, lass! I'm still a bit sore from the fall.. Ha, yer full o' questions aren't ye? I'm fine, 'twas jus' a little fall.. Dwarves grow up tumbling down the mountains all the time. Jus' feelin' sorry fer the keelhauled lad, not a nice way t' go", Rogar wipes a tear from his eye as he says this.
"Better not go stealin' from th' quartermaster's stores. Can't help but wonder if that's where me stuff is, tho. Oh, but how're ye, lass? Feelin' any better yet? Ye don't look so pale no more." the dwarf gives the girl a strong squeeze back, even if he feels he's breaking a few his bones there.
"Oh, sorry - don't know my own strength sometimes - but I'm so glad to see you, thought you were goner for sure! You dwarves really are made of stone, hey? And yes, looks like quartermaster's stores are off limits - but I'm already thinking about that, Doc, girl's gotta make plans, you know?"
"I can't decide if I'm feeling better or not - sometimes I think I'm fine, and then my stomach reminds me who's in charge round here. I've decided I'm going to live though, I need to repay everyone's kindness, hey?"
"I'm not making friends here anytime soon. But other than that, I'm fine."
Alessandra suddenly realises what Bellara said; at some point later Bellara feels a tentative hand on her shoulder and hears Alessandra's stammering voice behind her: "Y-you have made one friend today - at least if, you know, if you still want to be...? After - after earlier, I mean."
If she overhears the halfling mention daggers, Alessandra shakes her head and mutters quietly: "You heard the Captain - no killing. Draw a dagger and you've suddenly got few options, and they're all terrible. Something non-lethal would be better - what about a couple of those saps they carried this morning?" She pauses. "And maybe a couple for the others, too."
"I've been thinking (I've had a lot of time on my hands today) - can you get to the quartermaster's tomorrow? Can't steal anything, but a smile and a kind word might get results. You're good with people, I've watched you." She looks slightly downcast "It's not something I've managed to learn, but I like you. Thanks for looking out for me today. We'll have to have that talk sometime - I'd like to hear your story."
The girl grins suddenly, lopsidedly: "Speaking of watching - I don't think Bell's going to honour your 'dibs' on Diego..."
"Nice song. I like the revenge idea. Something to live for, keep everyone motivated, is that the idea?" The half-orc girl's voice is dry and amused - the drunk demeanour she had around Rogar has fallen away, not exactly an act but no longer quite so exaggerated.
She looks Diego over, professionally: lean, deceptively wiry, one of those types who'd use your own strength against you in a fight, but not much of a brawler. OK. (If Diego returns the inspection, he'll see that despite her height the half-orc girl is much younger than she first appears - maybe a teenager still? Underfed, but her acrobatics training and lean muscles mean that she isn't scrawny; attractive curves, maybe, if you overlook the odd-colour skin, the tusks, the coarse hair, the unnaturally red lips ...no, not possible really.) "I think you and I can work together, Tat-boy, assuming we overcome this sea-sickness. Just try not to draw Plugg's attention to us, hm? In return, I'll look out for you. I hear Fipps gave you some bother - I'll fix that right now."
Alessandra unwinds the pink scarf from round her waist: she wrapped it there when she started throwing up this morning, to keep it out the way. "Look after this. Don't get it dirty. If you spill anything on it I'll cut off your nipples." Not waiting for him to respond, Alessandra strides off.
Alessandra is torn: there's a WHOLE SHIP to explore (squee!), but it will still be here tomorrow (and if it isn't, she'll have bigger problems to worry about). No, she needs to stop some trouble before it starts. She's sorry that the other riggers weren't nice to Bellara and she'd love to do something about that (actually, on reflection, what she'd really like to do is untangle the emotional turmoil the young Taldan has - unwittingly - tumbled her into, but she's slipped the coast without compass, charts or course on that one) - but Fipps, the swab who was hostile to Diego, threatened violence and that's the bigger problem right now. And it's one she can solve. Solvable problems are the way to go, she decides.
She tracks down Fipps and fixes him with a predatory stare.
Humans can't snarl very well: it's something to do with the inability to breathe in and out simultaneously and something to do with the type of voicebox you need to have. Orcs can snarl; so can half-orcs. Alessandra is snarling now, a rolling, continuous rumble much like that of a big cat. Her red lips have rolled right back, showing the full extent of her tusks, and her eyes have a glint that's not coming from the nearby lighting. The extent of the transformation is shocking.
She walks, slowly, up to the swab and gets right in his face, still snarling. In a low, menacing growl, pointing to her new-found friends, she threatens him:
Even with the lingering effects of sea-sickness, Alessandra is a scary sight indeed when she wants to be. Collecting her pink scarf back from Diego, she walks off to give Fipps some time to digest what she said, and to be grateful he isn't (yet) digesting his own hand.
Shaeda responds to Alessandra, "Oh my friend, I've no intention of killing anyone, but I've also no intention of getting killed."
Now as for the boy, Diego," she smiles and rolls her head around a little bit, "there are plenty of fish in the briny sea, so I'll not pin all of my pride on one, no matter how cute he be."
She spends a moment watching the comings and goings of the crew, and then finally broaches the final topic, "As for the Quartermaster, I'll make no promises, let's just see what the morrow brings, but if I can get away from me duties, then I'll give it a go."
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The young man smirks at Alessandra, especially the threat at the end. Little does she know the background he has with half-orcs--and enough experience to recognize the friendship apparent in such violent talk. He simply offers a nod of acquienscence, still grinning as he folds the scarf he's been handed into a tidy triangle.
Perhaps she's right, it would be good not to kick the hive too much, especially if others might be at stake. He looks to the others:
Bellara has poise and command. She could captain a ship if given the chance, and men would follow. Hell, men would likely follow her anywhere based on looks alone. But there's significantly more beneath that. He can't tell if she tries to conceal that, with her masculine attire and formal demeanor, out of a desire to be seen as more or out of self-consciousness. Whatever the reason, it's certainly not what defines her, and anyone who reduces her to such will suffer a significant loss.
Alessandra has the capriciousness of youth. She has a quick temper, but is quick to make friends... which is ironic as Diego imagines she's been hurt in that realm fairly often. McGunners opened his eyes to a lot of the prejudice he would have otherwise overlooked. And even from this single long day of experience, Diego can tell she deserves far better than that. She clearly puts effort into looking human, but hopefully can see the beauty she possesses through that orcish blood.
And Rogar has been to sea... he said something about not wishing to be back here just this morning. He's stuck in this predicament, but deals with it with strength. The ale may be a vice, but it's not a crutch. Diego has a suspicion the dwarf's actually quite brilliant--which is a little intimidating, as Diego prefers to think he knows the most. It's very likely that the grizzly alchemist has him surpassed by leagues.
Diego spends some time talking to the Halfling that spoke of a fiddle she used to own. The young man had assumed that the five of them press-ganged last night were the only ones forced aboard the ship, though such an assumption is rather foolish in retrospect. "Taken, maybe..." he proposes, "but perhaps there is a way we could get it back." His eyebrows raise, with a confident glint. "Music would make evenings here far more bearable. Have you any idea though where equipment taken might be kept?"
He can't help but think of his own lost equipment of course, especialy the ivory pipe that Filligree had left in his care.
When Diego strikes up a conversation with Rosie, Bell considers the rest of the crew one by one, trying to garner any information that might be useful to them.
One man in particular catches her eye. More than the others, he seemed riveted by the tattooed man's performance. She seeks Diego out once more, clapping him on the shoulder while she leans in to whisper, "This may be nothing, but I couldn't help but notice the one with the blue scarf on his head. He seems particularly interested in your choice of material."
Sometime after their impromptu performance, Bell feels a hand on her shoulder. She whirls around instantly, tense and on guard. Her shoulders sag in relief when she realizes the person behind her was Alessandra. The girl unerringly manages to touch upon all those parts of her that were soft and often well hidden. "I am glad to hear that I have made one friend, my dear. You may count me as yours." Bellara gives the half orc girl the same regal nod that she had given Diego.
She then waits for a time when the crew gets more raucous in the their drinking before telling Alessandra in a low voice, "I'll be passing on this observation to Diego as well. You are likely far better at making friends than I am. There is a chap with a blue scarf tied around his head. His response to the performance was far more positive than the rest of them. Perhaps there is something there we can use to our advantage."
Suddenly aware that she has been gazing at Bellara for perhaps a couple of seconds too long, Alessandra breaks eye contact and tries to assess her new friend in the same way she did Diego. Hopeless. The smile, the eyes, the regal poise, they're just too distracting. I'd love to be like that, she thinks wistfully.
Doing her best to put it out of her mind, Alessandra focuses on what Bellara is saying. She smiles mirthlessly at the suggestion she's better at making friends. "Ha! Before today, I had exactly one friend; and he's been dead nearly two years. You want someone robbed, scared or ... taken care of, I'm your girl. Like I said earlier - fighting's what I do." Her glib reply glosses over the unpleasantness of growing up in Port Peril alone - she survived, and that's what matters, she reminds herself.
She falters slightly, but quickly continues: "Shaeda's good with people; so's that tattooed fool of a boy when he puts his mind to it." She pauses: she's seen the way Bellara looks at Diego, and wants to offer encouragement but doesn't want to intrude into her new friend's private life.
Her lips twitch slightly into a more genuine, if slightly impish, smile as she offers encouragement - of a sort: "You have one thing in common already: you've both got the muscle tone of a banana - a mashed banana... Perhaps you could use that as the basis for some sort of shared life experience?" She hopes her friend will understand the subtext: Go for it
"Oh my friend, I've no intention of killing anyone, but I've also no intention of getting killed."
Alessandra relaxes at being called a friend. 'S a good word, she decides. Leaning right back, supporting herself on her elbows, she's as close to the halfling's height as she can manage. They share a comfortable silence as she thinks about Shaeda's words: spoken with the quiet confidence of someone who has a lifetime's experience of not dying. It would be pretty stupid not to take her advice.
Alessandra is wilful, stubborn and often acts - and speaks - without thinking; but she isn't stupid. Clearing her throat, she looks speculatively at Shaeda: "Listen, I'm thinking of having a look round the ship tomorrow - did you see anything that struck you as worth a closer look?"
"An excellent question Alessandra," she begins, "I did notice a fellow earlier today that had a bunch of tar and feathers on him. Anyone receiving that sort of treatment might be an outsider and looking for friends."
Alessandra offers a slightly twisted non-smile and repeats - more or less - what she says to Bellara that same evening: "Until today, I had exactly one friend; and he's been dead nearly two years. You want someone robbed, scared off or ... taken care of, I'm competent. The more social stuff - not so much. You could try getting that tattooed nitwit to help out, if you think he can be trusted with anything important. He seems to be good with people."
Despite this, Alessandra is intrigued - if no one else is planning to check this guy out tomorrow, she might give it a go.
A thought strikes her: "Actually, Bellara mentioned one of the swabs" - she points out the man with the blue headscarf - "said he might be worth talking to; something about enjoying the performance?"
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Rogar sneaks into the other’s company. ”Oi, mates. If ye’r missin’ any o’ yer gear, I reckon the quartermaster ‘as got ‘em. If poor Magpie teach us anythin’, better not go sneakin’ t’ the stores, unless ye’r fancying a long swim. Me was plannin’ t’ put on me sweetest smile, ’n ask her nice tomorrow.” the dwarf whispers, raspy voice full of plots. ”Ye learn anything’ o’ Wormwood yet?”
That evening, Rogar seeks out Sandra Quinn. ”Ain’t much, this life o’ mine, but it’s very dear t’ me. And thanks t’ ye, I be keeping it fer some time longer. Ye get me warmest thanks, lass. If there’s anything this dwarf can do fer ye, ye just let me know” Doc blurts out in earnest, shaking Sandra’s hand.
Shaeda:
The man with the blue head scarf is somewhat unfriendly, but seems to be less hostile than some of the other pirates. Although he doesn't offer any advice or real friendship he seems to be ok with you joining the small group he's sitting with. His turn of phrase is remarkably dour and his conversation frequently turns to dark subjects and violence. When conversation veers towards these topics his eyes seem to light up.
Bellara:
Focusing on the blue-scarfed man you can tell - almost instinctively that he seems more dangerous than those around him. He is more assured in himself and seems ready - almost eager for a fight.
Rogar:
Sandra smiles widely when you approach her. "Im sure ye'd do the same fer me" she says in a lilting, somewhat rough tone. "I've only been aboard a few days more'n you, but it seems t' me it'd be a good idea t' have a few friends around. Its a rough crowd and I don't think we'll last long without someone t' watch our backs."
Diego:
You quickly learn that all of the gear that the pirates 'liberate' from their 'volunteers' ands up in the quartermaster's store - The captain considers it plunder. Rosie seems very eager to get her hands on the fiddle again.
ALL
Eventually, as the night darkens and the clock above the mast works its way towards midnight, sailors head to the crew berths to sleep, their chatter and games finished for the night. Joining the others, you find hammocks that are, as yet unclaimed and manage, eventually to fall asleep with the gentle rocking motion of the ship at anchor. Before heading down to the berths you do, however notice that four of the crew are taking up position above-deck as lookouts -Shivikah, Tilly Brackett, Jaundiced Jape and Fipps Chumlett. Tilly seems a little lonely amongst the others, who seem to from a bit of a clique.
You are woken the next day by the ship's bell accompanied by the bustle of pirates stowing their hammocks and rushing to the main deck so as to avoid the inevitable lash, or worse - bilge duty that is the reward of laggardly behaviour. Quickly (but for anyone without Profession (sailor), inexpertly), you stow your hammocks and join the back of the tide of pirates rushing upstairs. As you reach the stairs, however, four figures, all smiling nastily block your way forward... Aretta, Fipps, Jape and Lonegan. Fipps, standing with the others at his back smiles,.. "In a hurry?" he breathes out, laughing and pushing Bellara roughly in the chest. At the stairs a number of other sailors stand, eager to watch the entertainment of the inevitable fight...
Pirates:
Bellara:
Rogar:
Allessandra:
Diego:
Shaeda:
Shaeda beats Bellara on 1-3
INITIATIVE ORDER:
Allessandra
Shaeda
Bellara
Pirates
Rogar
Diego
BATTLEMAP - Hope its clear. White letters stand for PCs and allies (usefully you all have different initials), red letters for NPCs.
Shaeda declares to her friends. "Fipps first,", and takes a swing at him.
Alessandra's reaction on seeing Fipps touch Bellara is - her mind fills with thoughts of flames, violence, blood, death. She cannot remember the last time she was this angry. Outwardly, this doesn't show - her response is to quietly remark "Oh, Fipps; if you were still hungry last night I'd have fed your hand to you then - all you needed to do was ask. Well, looks like you're having an early breakfast."
Her quarrel isn't with Lonegan, standing opposite her - it's with the fool who threatened Diego and has now compounded the offence by laying hands on Bellara. She was worried this might happen, she can't be the only one who's noticed how pretty the young Taldan woman is (although this is not the time to focus on that, she firmly reminds herself).
Time for somebody to get an object lesson: they can't all be slow learners, she reasons to herself. But if they are, she can handle that, too - Alessandra grew up in surroundings that make the School of Hard Knocks look like a child's playground.
The young half-orc girl elegantly raises her hands above her head - and springs forward, cartwheeling by Lonegan and through the place occupied by Japes, landing behind Fipps.
Her balance is still slightly off (although infinitely better than it was yesterday!), but she catches them unawares and she's fairly sure they can't strike at her as she wheels past (but hey, a girl has to take some risks now and then). Elegantly landing behind Fipps, she winks at Bellara (who's now in front of her), and whispers in her opponent's ear from behind him: "Think of this as the classroom, ok, sweetie? I'm dishing out the instruction - try and learn from it...
Assessing the rocking of the ship, she plants her feet accordingly and drives a punch into his kidneys that carries all her weight - and her anger.
(strength bonus, flanking bonus, freebooter's bane)
(strength bonus, freebooter's bane)
Looking past Fipps, addressing her companions, she offers a lop-sided grin (that doesn't show her teeth), and remarks: "Morning, all - on balance, I think it's fair to say (taking one thing with another) that I'm feeling better..." Indeed, this tall, lithe, graceful, confident figure is several worlds removed from the miserable wreck you first encountered yesterday morning...
Sorry for missing your action Alessandra. I'll post the consequences of it as soon as I can. In the meantime though (so that you can retcon if you want) I'm not going to treat the pirates as flat footed because they are more than ready for the fight. If you want to think of it in mechanical terms then think of Fipps' threat as happening in the surprise round.
This means no sneak attack (unless you flank) and they get an aao. I'm happy to keep your rolls of you want, or you can retcon to not perform the action(s) you posted and repost new actions instead.
So, Alessandra, when you confronted Fipps he backed away somewhat nervously, returning to his friends (the same individuals now confronting you) and muttering darkly whilst shooting you dark looks.
I'm not going to treat the pirates as flat footed
So, Alessandra, when you confronted Fipps he backed away somewhat nervously, returning to his friends (the same individuals now confronting you) and muttering darkly whilst shooting you dark looks.
** spoiler omitted **
So, Alessandra, when you confronted Fipps he backed away somewhat nervously, returning to his friends (the same individuals now confronting you) and muttering darkly whilst shooting you dark looks.
They don't have knives,...not drawn ones anyway.
Alessandra's been expecting trouble ever since her spat with Fipps last night, when he and his cronies kept shooting her dirty looks - as if that bothered her!
Waking up was a refreshing experience this morning, swaying gently in the hammock, her stomach finally under her control, surrounded by new friends.
When Fipps and his stooges step out into their path, she can see that they mean trouble. Of her companions, only Shaeda is up to speed at once, putting some sort of Halfling jinx on Fipps - the others are just not quite with her. She assesses her options, rapidly discounting them. Stand and slug with Lonegan? No - she's on the end of their line, she needs to be in the middle, wreaking havoc, watching her friends' backs; they need her.
And she needs them, she suddenly realises. For 16 years, she's been going from one bad deed to the next, always justifying it as doing what was necessary, what she needed to do in order to survive. She knows now - having seen it in Plugg yesterday - where that path leads: to enjoyment of it, to becoming something that preys on the helpless just because you can. She knows now - that if their positions had been reversed yesterday - she wouldn't have stopped for Bellara, someone she didn't know.
That thought, that moment of self-awareness, cuts her more than any knife ever has.
Alessandra watches, eyes brimming with tears of rage, as Fipps approaches Bellara - she sees his touch, knows his mind, can sense his intentions. Nuh-uh. Not today. Not while I draw breath. She's mine. They are mine.
Everything slows, through the flames that roar through her brain. She sees the way to reach Fipps, a simple cartwheeling roll that will leave him trapped between her and Bellara - the predator, prey. Simple. Elegant. Daring. Alessandra remembers, irrelevantly, part of the last book that Tor quoted at her, something Elven (a language she doesn't speak): 'De l'audace, et encore de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace!' Something about the need for daring. Thanks, Tor - for everything. Wish you were here. If you've got any sway Up There, put in a good word for me, hey? A girl would appreciate that.
Time stops. The moment is -
(breathing in, confident, as if conducting the dance that's about to begin, the half-orc girl raises her arms and prepares to push off her back foot)