"And a mighty good evening to you to!" Ethron hops from one ship to the other, rapier drawn.
"My good man, er, hobgoblin, I'd suggest you give in now. Your crew is effectively incapacitated and we outnumber you six to one, even without our more than capable crew."
Ethron strikes a pose over an overturned barrel, making sure his rapier glints off the moonlight. "So is this going to be easy, or will I be passing another round of grog to celebrate the life and times of Captain Gortus Svard?"
Alessandra grinds her tusks teeth. (Teeth. They're DEFINITELY teeth. Refer to them as tusks in her hearing and you're looking at a 1-way trip to whatever afterlife you believe in.)
"Don't grandstand, you stupid pinkskin - kill him! You can pose over his body later, once he's safely dead. Jeez."
Under her clothing, the teenager's green-grey skin is crossed with scars earned learning that lesson. The streets are a hard place to grow up and the wisdom gained is often paid for in blood. Mostly other people's blood, in Alessandra's case, but the principle is still valid.
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"'Allo cap'n. We 'ad a little parlay with me crew, an' we decided t' pick our share o' th' loot. And since I know ye by yer reputation, I know yer not gonna come into agreement how we split the loot. So we reckon we beat you first, and talk later!"
And without further ado, Rogar flings a tanglefoot bomb at the hobgoblin.
Chaenath claps at Ethron's dramatic moment. Speech! Speech! Speech! Let's have a debate instead!
Captain Svard is demoralized by the beginning of the combat, and by Ethron's approach and words.
Doc's tanglefoot bomb hits Gortus as well.
Success, he is not entangled.
Svard responds, "you surely have me at a disadvantage, but I did not become a Free Captain by taking direction from the likes of you."
He charges Ethron and swings his falcata.
Miss!
Gortus - Shaken (2 rounds), 10 DMG
Ok, the party is up again!
((Assuming Svard is within 30 feet of Chaenath))
Oh. No more words Chaenath looks a bit sad and hits Svard with an Evil Eye Hex targeting his attack and cackles to extend it a round. ((For 9 rounds -2 to attack unless he makes a Will Save DC 17. If he does then it'll only be for two rounds.))
Success!
Gortus - Shaken (2 rounds), Hex (-2 to attacks) 2 rds, 10 DMG
Alessandra calls on the magic of her shirt* and is suddenly a blur of movement. She draws and fires her bow rapidly, striking the hobgoblin with lethal force.
*no sniggering at the back. Yes, I'm talking to you.
Ethron nimbly ducks and weaves as the hobgoblin tries to turn the priest into a slice of jerky.
Gortus shrugs of the longer duration of Chaenath’s hex.
Doc’s next tanglefoot hits him.
Alessandra hits Gortus twice, but her crit doesn’t confirm.
Ethron attempts to trip Gortus, who takes his AOO.
Miss
Ethron fails to trip Gortus, and is tripped himself.
Gortus then attempts to attack the prone Ethron.
Hit/threat
Crit Confirm:
Confirm
Ethron gets hit for 30 points of damage.
The party is up again.
Gortus - Entangled, Shaken (2 rounds), Hex (-2 to attacks) 2 rds, 47 DMG
Ethron! Chaenath screams as the foolhardy inquisitor gets run right through and pinned to the ground by the pirate captain's blade with a spurt of blood. She casts a healing spell and continues to cackle to keep the attack hex on the captain active for another round.
Ethron feels way too much blood leave him from such a powerful blow, then feels his wound partly close from his favorite witch's spell. Wow, never thought he'd say that in his life.
Ethron attempts to stand up, knowing he's going to be open for attack, but he has no choice!
Ethron's demeanor changes as he seems almost sympathetic, his wound covered in a light brown glow.
Before his enemy can react fast enough, Ethron tries to return the favor, swinging his rapier with intent to run Gortus through.
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"Ye all right, buddy? Best be careful, that one's one mean bastard. Now, 'cuse fer a moment..." Rogar moves to the captain's flank, drinks one of his extracts. Suddenly, he starts feeling very ill, and begins vomiting.
But what comes out is not just Rogar's lunch, but an army of spiders which starts crawling all over Gortus.
"Stupid... frigging... pinkskins " Alessandra grates as Ethron goes down ('frigging' isn't exactly the word she uses).
She raises a scornful eyebrow (as only a teenage girl can manage) at Chaenath's scream: "Don't worry, sweetie, they breed like flies - there'll be another one along in a minute..." - but she breathes a (private) sigh of relief as she watches him get back up again. For good measure, she looses a couple more arrows at the hobgoblin.
Alessandra's volley of arrows takes down the enemy captain.
You now have possession of both ships, which I assume you will sell.
Gortus Svard had:
MW Armored Coat
+1 Keen Falcatta
Light Steel Shield
MW Thieves tools (he was a 3rd level rogue also, but with no chance to flank or surprise it didn't matter)
Light crossbow with 10 bolts
The captain from the other ship had:
+1 rapier
leather armor
eyes of the eagle
Ethron gets up from the floor, feeling his self-healing wound cease. "Ok, bad idea on my part, I'll admit." He gives the dead hobgoblin a kick in the ribs before taking the specially crafted weapon that nearly took his life. "I'm taking this as a trophy."
He also takes the other blade from the other captain, twirling it in his hand and spinning it around a little. "Nice balance, good craftsmanship, all in all a very nice blade." He replaces the one he had with this new, magical version.
Alessandra raises a scornful eyebrow "A trophy? You?! What did you do to earn it?! Still, at least you're still in one piece and unmarked, so that's something, I guess?"
Alessandra has enough magical weaponry on her already; she can afford to be magnanimous about this. "So, what now?" she grins.
"Excuse me for wanting to keep a memento of the...thing that nearly killed me. Besides, it's a nice blade." He gives the falcata a swing, feeling the weight and the pull of the steel in his hand. Nice......I'm keeping this."
As soon as Ethron got back onto the Chimera, he found himself a little more focused on the new blade he admittedly pilfered from Gortus. A few more swings and he think he understands the bla--thunk!! Oh great, there's a new gouge in the main mast. "Whoops..."
As most of Ethron's self entitled training is on either the mast of the ship or against imaginary foes, he finds the weight of the blade leading him towards slightly stranger angles, and when he's given the chance from fellow crewmates, he finds himself able to aim a little better when someone else is distracting his target.
Alessandra leans against the ship's rail, grinning as she watches Ethron. "Back in Port Peril, we had this gang: the Shamlag Boys. They had this game where they used to get couple old, homeless geezers, types missing an eye, a leg... whatever. Used to befriend 'em, get 'em roaring drunk, and then make 'em fight each other with a two-by-four. Can't think what's brought that memory back to me just now."
She pauses, for effect. "I used to have to pay to watch that - this, I can do for free!"
But she can only stand to watch a bad job being done for so long - Ethron's ineptness just gets on her nerves, eventually. Moving away from the ship's rail, she approaches him, carefully. "Look, I'm sure your training in the art of telepathy or whatever from the Order of the Silver Whatsit was great, but it didn't include learning how to actually fight, did it? Be honest here. You're among friends. Mostly."
Alessandra's been seething at Ethron's little jibe for months now; getting even is truly the best thing, like, ever. Her glee is palpable.
Ethron gives another spin, feeling the weight of the blade and how it is feeling closer to an extension of himself, rather than a tool.
"Telegraphy and Order of the Silver Flagon. And yes, I did receive weapons training." He gives another swing, feeling where his feet would have to be on the strike. "Mostly with the rapier, since that is the Lucky God's favorite blade. But now, I'm kinda liking this one." He gives a thrust as if he was using a piercing blade, but he shakes his head with a groan of exasperation.
"I was also trained in an experimental weapon that allows one to fire a crossbow bolt 5 times before needing to be reloaded." He gives a spinning vertical slice to feel the momentum of the weighted head. "I preferred getting up close and personal, but I still know how to use it."
He stands up straight, putting his falcata back in it's sheath. "Port Peril's where you're from? Never been myself, but I here they have amazing ale." He takes a swig of his grog ration, leaning against the railing. "Much better than this, but I'm not complaining." Another swig goes down the gullet. "Myself, I'm from the birthplace of freedom itself, Almas of Andoran." He sighs as he thinks back, looking up at the sky. "Sometimes I miss home, but there's a job to be done. If I don't do it, who will?"
He glances back over at Alessandra. "Speaking of telegraphy, I can tell just by your stance and your facial expression that you think I'm an idiot, you don't trust me very well...and yet, I'm familiar to you?" He grins. "You've met morons and drunks like me before then? Swindled them?" His expression turns a touch grim. "Killed them before?" His carefree grin returns after another swig. Her past is her past, and whatever she tells him is her decision.
"I did receive weapons training." He gives another swing, feeling where his feet would have to be on the strike. "Mostly with the rapier, since that is the Lucky God's favorite blade."
Alessandra shakes her head. "A rapi- a rapier? Right. So it's worse than I thought. You've been taught how not to fight. See, the types we're fighting, they don't fence." She spits the word. "They don't do 'en garde' and rules an' stuff. While you're swishing and strutting your stuff, he's gonna smack you inna balls and jab you in the eye, and stick something sharp into that soft pinkskin stomach of yours."
Her voice is soft, quiet; different from its usual tone. "Then, when you're curled up on the ground whimpering about how much it all hurts, he's gonna knock out your teeth just to see if any of 'em are gold. So listen up, now - and learn something useful."
"But now, I'm kinda liking this one." He gives a thrust as if he was using a piercing blade, but he shakes his head with a groan of exasperation.
The teenager shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "No, no, no! Give it here. Huh. Bit like a scimitar, yeah, but... not. Right. Grip it here, OK? Thumb goes there. Then you swing the whole thing from the shoulders. Which means your feet like this - your weight on the front foot. It's all in the timing: +-&% it up and you'll fall over. Don't +-&% it up, is my advice. Here. You try it."
She watches him, critically. He's clearly pretty bright, and learns fast. Maybe this could work. Carefully moving behind Ethron, she puts a hand on his shoulders, gauging the muscles beneath. "Huh. You got work to do if you wanna hit hard enough. I can show you some exercises, but you're gonna be sore for a while. Not much use for a fight, and you won't use that rapier properly again, most likely. On the plus side, you'll get to live. Probably. Deal?"
He glances back over at Alessandra. "Speaking of telegraphy, I can tell just by your stance and your facial expression that you think I'm an idiot, you don't trust me very well...and yet, I'm familiar to you?" He grins. "You've met morons and drunks like me before then? Swindled them?" His expression turns a touch grim. "Killed them before?" His carefree grin returns after another swig. Her past is her past, and whatever she tells him is her decision.
The half-orc girl blinks, caught off-guard. Ethron has an annoying habit of doing that. "Familiar...? S'pose so. Remind me of someone I used to know - he was an arrogant sod, too! Well-spoken, handsome, everyone liked him; even I liked him, an' I don't like anyone! But then he did save me from the streets, taught me how to be something other than a guttersnipe..." She trails off, annoyed that she let her guard down. "Right. That's enough touchy-feely crap. I killed for the first time when I was 11, an' I've killed a lot since. You wanna learn from me, or not?" She glares at him, defiantly.
Ok the ships:
The Devils Pallor is a warship (25k gp) with 1 point of plunder (ship’s arsenal and stores)
The Sea Chanty is a galleon (10k gp) with 2 points of plunder (fruit and wool)
So to move forward, you head to a small town to sell those ships, and then experience a bit of a dryspell for several weeks. Roll to sell the plunder value? Roll to raise your disrepute/infamy?
Ethron's retraining is accomplished.
The [i[Chimera's[/i] water supply is running a bit low. After consulting some charts, you find a spot where others have refilled their water barrels before. You sailed there, a slight way up a small river on the Mwangi coast. Just as you were finishing refilling your barrels and getting them aboard, some of your lookouts come running back to you on the shore, to announce that they can spy a large ship that has taken up station at the head of the river, where it meets the sea.
The ship is reported to be the Dominator a massive Cherish man-o'-war, filled to the brim with Chellish marines, the best sailors in the fleet, a mass of well trained officers, and a Captain, who if the flags she flies are corrects a Paracountess.
That is not a nut you think you can not crack with brute force, you will need a plan.
Chaenath inspects Ethron carefully as he comes back from the ship and nods at her work. Even now healer man. But be careful. If you go then who will save me from trees?
Before Ethron beings his retraining she picks up the Falcatta. I am better than A-less-san-dra at archery and I think I am also better than you at swinging swords without falling so maybe I should use this and she whoops and giggles as she waves it around her head and goes into a crazy spin that ends with her splayed on the deck, the Falcatta embedded in it, and Swum running around in a chattering panic far away from both.
**At the Dominator**
Chaenath thinks about the ship, the difference in their relative strengths, and comes up with a cunning plan. Charge!
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"Bugger me... A Chelish Man-o'-war!" Rogar had come up on the deck with a bottle of rum, in hopes of turning his hangover back to drunkenness. But the news makes his head just ache more. "That'll slaughter us in a fair fight. So better avoid that. Any ideas me fellow crewmates? Slip in durin' th' night, and burn 'er up?"
Ethron takes up the training offered to him from Alessandra, a good 8 hour training segment every day for nearly a fortnight. All too often he finds himself on the deck or bleeding from a wanton kick or punch from the dirty fighter of a teacher, but this feels like a worthy effort.
When all is said and done, the Priest of the Lucky God finds himself more attuned with the new blade than with his old one, but he keeps his rapier on him, just in case.
Ethron tries to give the same finesse he gave his rapier more than once, but his body is more attuned to the falcatta now, and his flexibility with the blade is changed. "Well, this thing is a nifty blade. Sure hope it saves my life to make this all worth while."
At the sight of the Dominator, Ethron thinks a little bit, but is interrupted by Chaenath. "That would be a bad idea. This is a much larger and well armed and manned ship. We'd be horribly out numbered, out gunned, and outsized just from looking at it. We need a plan..."
Looking over the river, Ethron has an idea. "Would it be possible to sneak aboard after dark? Get through the woods and hid our presence until we reach their landing?"
Maybe hurt the ship? Cause it to sink to cause distraction? We can breathe underwater. They can not
Alessandra is impressed that Ethron puts up with her teaching methods; she'd been inclined to dismiss him as a bit of a fop with a fondness for drink, but she's grudgingly forced to give him some respect for the way he keeps getting up even as she pounds on him again.
She listens as the others share their plans for the ship. "There's always a way in, somewhere. Just need to find it. Night would be best bet."
Chaenath nods We swim in at night. Climb up. Get to the Paracountess?
After a few minutes of discussion, Ethron thinks he has a proper plan of action, which he dictates over a map and another drink.
"Here's the plan. We wait until nightfall, following the bank in the forest. After we get to about 50ft away, Alessandra will take up a post just in front of the bow, I'll wait with her. She'll have the Eyes of the Eagle, so she can see further onto the deck. She and I will wait while Rogar and Chaenath sneak up under the rudder and use a any spells and Alchemist Fires we have to cripple them, in case part two doesn't go as planned.
"They'll also act as a distraction while Alessandra and I sneak onto the ship with a couple grappling hooks and some rope. The two of us will work our way onto the ship, get the gangplank either down or clear of guards, then have Rogar and Chaenath get onboard. We'll clear out who we can together, find this Paracountess and pacify or kill them, then light the deck on fire.
"Any objections?
Alessandra resists the urge to cuff Ethron round the back of the head. "Hopeless. I'm sure your god just loves that sort of thing, but me, I like living. Listen. Where I grew up, you occasionally got this - some gang or the Watch or some baddass would be coming down your patch, and you ran and you hid; or you died." The girl doesn't say that on occasion, she was the one doing the killing; but Ethron's smart, he can probably work that out for himself. It's not something she's proud of, but she's alive. Anyway, why the hell does she care what he thinks?
Shaking her head to clear it, she resumes. "That's what we're doing now, OK? They're bigger than us and they're killier than us and we are outta here. We grakk up their rudder and then we rakk right off."
Ethron seems a little taken aback that the only true killer in the team is choosing to run away. He lets out an exasperated groan. "I'm not running with my tail between my legs...but, you're right." He shakes his head, then downs the rest of his rum, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Get this bucket moving once we're full up on supplies."
Ethron departs, heading back below deck to the infirmary for the night.
She is stung by Ethron's disappointment; this time, Alessandra really does aim a swipe at the back of the inquisitor's head. "Yes, we're running away! That's what you DO, if you want to keep your tail, or anything else between your legs! Grashnakhyt! ... You're like a kid - this ain't a kids' story and the good guys don't win most of the time; they just An' I'm fed up with buryin' friends who thought they were immortal..."
Spinning on her heel, with tears - angry tears - pricking her eyes, Alessandra stalks away, muttering to herself in Orcish.
Ethron gives himself some time to think, then calls his friends back together.
"Yeah, I was kind of impulsive, and I'm sorry. But we can't pass up an opportunity to make a name for ourselves, unafraid to make some trouble for whoever gets in our way."
He grabs one of his torches, using it to make one of his arrows able to catch alight. "They can't catch us if they can't catch the wind in their sails, right?"
"What about if we sail beside them, hit their sails with a few flaming arrows, then fly away before they know what hit them?"
Sails have replacements, damage the ship and sail away while they repair.
With narrowed eyes, Alessandra chews thoughtfully on her lip while she considers Ethron and his plan. Eventually, she grins. "OK, I'm in! Flaming arrows... you know how to get a girl's attention. But." She glares at him, and not just on principle this time. "You try anything...heroic... and Doc and me here'll throw you overboard. I meant what I said earlier: I'm done burying people I care about."
Realising what she's just said, she scowls. "Not that I - you know. It's just it'd be a huge waste of all that time I spent training you if you died now. So don't, OK? If you die without permission, you'll really be in trouble."
Right. That's enough wordy crap. She strings her bow, enjoying the feel as she draws it. Hells yes. Hello fiery mayhem, my old friend, where you BEEN? "Doc, Chaenath: get ready to gakk their rudder. Helm - take us in quietly. Archers - Hells, you know what to do. And you: stay clo- stay where I can see you, OK?"
That seems to be it, bar the shooting. The girl grins again, infectiously, the blood surging in her ears "Let's rakkin' DO this!"
With narrowed eyes, Alessandra chews thoughtfully on her lip while she considers Ethron and his plan. Eventually, she grins. "OK, I'm in! Flaming arrows... you know how to get a girl's attention.
Out of habit, hearing he has someone's attention, he winks in Alessandra's direction. Then he realizes what he's done, quickly waving it off as he wipes his eye.
I'm done burying people I care about."
Realising what she's just said, she scowls. "Not that I - you know. It's just it'd be a huge waste of all that time I spent training you if you died now. So don't, OK? If you die without permission, you'll really be in trouble."
Ethron can't help but chuckle. "Sure, sure, I'll make sure I'm still alive at the end of this. Just do me the same favor, yeah?" He gives her a playful nudge.
And you: stay clo- stay where I can see you, OK?"
Ethron grabs his own bow, stringing it with a similar unlit flaming arrow. "Sure thing." That grin of Alessandra's must truly be infectious as he finds himself grinning as well.
Turning, he calls out to the crew. "Silence the bells and snuff the lanterns! Archers, keep your bows drawn and ready for our signal. Keep a torch and flint ready, but only light it when we get close enough. Run it through the archers, lighting their arrows in one run."
He kneels down behind the railing, trying to keep himself hidden next to Alessandra. "Stay quiet. When this is over, I'll pay for the next port's bar tab."
Ok, I will offer up what the AP provides on the subject, no skill checks needed:
While the Dominator is virtually impregnable to any attacks the PCs might make with their ship, a DC 15 Craft (ships) or Knowledge (engineering) check or a DC 20 Perception or Intelligence check allows the PCs to recognize that the Dominator has a steering wheel on its quarterdeck and must, therefore, have a pulley-activated tiller in the cabin below. While the ship’s rudder is below the waterline and too difficult to easily damage, if the tiller’s pulley ropes were severed,
the Dominator would be crippled for hours while the tiller was repaired,
giving the PCs’ ship plenty of time to escape without pursuit.Under cover of darkness, the PCs could row or swim over to the Dominator’s stern, using the galleries of the ship’s elaborately decorated sterncastle to scale the stern of the ship with cover from guards above. Once they reach the cabin windows beneath the quarterdeck, the PCs simply need to break in and quickly disable the tiller before returning to their own ship to drift past the Dominator in the dark and escape.
With that said, I am fine with an strategy the PCs want to try to temporarily disable the Dominator to allow yourselves several hours of lead time to get through.
So lay out your plan for me, and we'll get to it!
That is exactly the skill I would use, under what circumstances will you do it? Full sail? Running with the ebb tide?
No need for non stealth folks to hide, if they don't see the ship, they don't see you, haha.
Hint: don't do it with sails, large white objects against a black sky are pretty obvious.