"Ah. Ye mus' be th' new cook's matey. I'm Ambrose Kroop. An' this 'ere be Black-'earted Bezebel. Welcome ta me galley. Ya be needin' an'ting atoll ye jes be askin'. It'd not be much fer t'lookin' but e'ert'in' a cook be wantin' y'kin find ab'ut. Ter mornin's fer th' crew's biscuit and we'b gettin' dinner fer t'emal' ab'ut ter day. At'imes there'b' fishin' n' turtlin' t'b'done. 'T'any questions?"
The youth blushes at Aemilia's questions.
"No, ma'am. I don't have a girl. I was just..." He holds up the ivory, the tapered end carved into a long fish tail, the rest curving into an incomplete hourglass figure. "Scrimshaw," he explains. "I'm Jack."
"Aemilia." She darts a glance toward Scourge to make sure he's still looking away before dropping one end of the rope and offering Jack her hand. If he takes it, she lets the clasp linger just a tad longer than strictly necessary for a greeting. With another nervous look over her shoulder at Scourge, she gets back to splicing. "How do you dare to do that on the open deck? Aren't you afraid he'll catch you? You must be terribly brave."
** spoiler omitted **
Questions... Well, actually, i'm wondering if I can visit the Quartermaster, is he nearby? In particular, I have some parchment i'd like to recover from my things; so I can write down any recipes you will teach me, Ambrose. Theres a couple of other things I need but the parchment is the important bit. If I can write everything you teach me down, i'm sure I won't make too many mistakes he explained with an easy smile.
Diplomacy
After hours of silence, the woman seems surprised when Nakon finally addresses her. "Oh. Ye do speak. I'm Samms. We're headin' out o' Jeopardy Bay. Probably heading out between Widowmaker Isle and Dahak's Teeth to the Fever Sea. From thar, who knows?"
Raiding then? Nakon says a little too eagerly.
Did the whole crew drink from the wrong flagon at the wrong tavern or did you sign on by choice?
Con Check:
About 3 hours into the work, Sevien collapses from Sun Stroke. Between the whipping, the falling, the climbing, the working and the sun...he passes out on the deck...
Diplomacy
Nakon's attempt at casual conversation comes across a bit creepy.
From above he looks on calmly as Sevien collapses.
That one will not survive the day it seems..... Yet as weak as he is what if he is meant to form part of my transformation? Deep Ones no! It could not be...
Anyone looking at the big man at this particular moment would see him frown deeply.
Plugg is 'is first mate and 'e's a nasty piece o' work. He’s barely been on board a year, but ye'd think 'e owns th' ship. The apple o' the cap'n’s eye, that one. Harrigan treats 'im like a son — but not a legitimate one, mind. That cutlass o' 'is is magical, see. And 'e wields that cat like it was his own arm. I’ve seen him using both in combat. Despite 'is pettish looks, 'e’s quite some fighter by all accounts. Not that 'e fights th' crew, o' course. He's got Master Scourge toadying 'im fer that. Now, there's a man wot loves 'is work. Ye'll never find a braver soul than Scourge when 'e's got Plugg and an 'is men to 'ide behind. An' they got me. Th' bastards finally got me."
"Grok's prett' good, b't she takes 'er job as Quart'rmast'r prett' serious like. Though she oft closes up mid arvo 'n we 'as a few. She's good-like ta me. Don't got too many ovvers. Y'see, 'tis poison, th'ship, b't don’ let 'nwone 'ear ye sa'it aloud. Th'hull listens, see, an' th' cap’n 'ears 'tall. Poison th' Wormwood is t'ough, rotten t'th core. Ye’ll n't meet a more nasty, sour piece o' work th'n Cap’n Harrigan 'n all yer days 't'sea, an' 'is crew’s tersame, ’special' th' first mate,
Misser Plugg. Vicious liddle sod, 'e's. 'e’d take 'is own movver’s liver t'th' butcher t' make pies wit', 'e would. B't t'ey leave me 'lone, mostl'. T'ey know I c'n’t ’arm ’em.”
Kroop shakes his head slowly, then describes the job of the cook’s mate, which basically entails helping him prepare meals, and actually acquiring food for meals by fishing on a fairly regular basis. Several people wander in and out during the day, including the red haired woman, who dashes into the Quartermaster's Store soon after midday and dashes off again after several minutes.
Jack sits a little taller at Aemilia's comments. "He ain't never caught me yet. He ain't too bright, ol' Master Scourge. You do most o' the work, ye avoid most o' the whip. The work's pretty hard, don't get me wrong, but ye can usually squeeze in something else. I even made it down to the quarter master store o' Cut-Throat once and bought me this," he holds up the bronze knife, "from me winnings at cards."
Lysandra, attentive to her duties, manages to endure the endless scrubbing and mopping and, though tired, is still able to stand by the end of the day.
Sevien, however, collapses to the deck. When Master Scourge notices, CRACK!
"Quinn, get 'im back to work."
The red haired woman appears, rushes over and takes out a small kit. She creates water, gives some to Sevien, applies some salts and rouses him.
"Take care. Hope that helps." She drops something into Sevien's pocket and departs.
Sevien barely registers the whipping as he lays there groaning. After Sandara wakes him and realizes what has happened.
Sevien's hand brushes over Sandara's and he whispers, This will not be forgotten...
He waits for a time when no one is around except for Lysandra.
@ Lysandra, When the time comes I expect we should be able to change a few things around here...mark my word things will change... Lysandra sees flames dancing in Sevien's eyes as he eyes Plugg walking the opposite direction.
@Sevien, "I certainly hope so...I don't know how many days of scrubbing that damned deck I can handle."
Jack sits a little taller at Aemilia's comments. "He ain't never caught me yet. He ain't too bright, ol' Master Scourge. You do most o' the work, ye avoid most o' the whip. The work's pretty hard, don't get me wrong, but ye can usually squeeze in something else. I even made it down to the quarter master store o' Cut-Throat once and bought me this," he holds up the bronze knife, "from me winnings at cards."
"Oh." Aemilia looks disappointed. "I could never buy anything. I don't have any coin ... or anything else, either to swap or to bet." She leans closer to Jack so he can feel her breath as she whispers, "Even these clothes aren't mine."
Jack turns bright red at Aemilia's comment and is about to stammer something when Scourge starts shouting at you.
People are constantly moving about the ship, fetching equipment, carrying messages, hauling ropes, even exchanging the occasional joke. Despite your assigned duties, you're often told to help lift and carry, pass or tie ropes, or moved out of someones way. The main way below decks is down the steep steps through the officer's fore cabin. There's apparently another set of stairs in Captain Harrigan's aft cabin, never used by the crew. Anything too large to fit up the stair has to be brought up by the laborious process of opening the main deck hatches and hauling it up from the hold. This process is further complicated by moving and managing both the people on deck and the animals in the hold. Those that are too slow to follow commands, talk back or are caught where they're not meant to be are abused, lashed with a rope or taste the stings of Master Scourge's whip.
Mister Plugg stands atop the aft deck, at the Wormwood's helm much of the time, shouting commands to the runners and Scourge, who is only too happy to boss the crew around.
Occasionally, Captain Harrigan appears on deck and takes the helm and at these times Plugg is constantly by his side.
The weather is fine and the sea is swift and what with the sun, the shouting and the whipping, the day goes remarkably quickly, though your bones ache as they never have before. Eventually, the sun lowers in the sky, the sails are taken down and you drop anchor as the working day ends. The crew assemble on the upper deck, facing towards the main mast, and it occurs to those of you who have been on deck all day that the large rope wrapped around the base of the main mast has yet to be used for anything. The setting sun paints the sky a deep, rich orange and the ship is bathed in red light. Bloody hour is here.
Mister Plugg steps forward and a hush falls over the crew leaving only the sound of waves lapping against the ship's hull.
"As ye know, we got oursel'es a few more crew back in Port Peril. Since today's their first day we'll be giving a couple o' them a warm welcome." He lashes his cat against the main mast inspiring scattered laughter among the crew. It cuts through the dark stained wood to the lighter brown below.
"But don' think I forgot th' rest o' ye. Crimson Cogward, c'mon down."
The Varisian in the blue bandana steps forward and hugs the main mast as best he can. The rope around the main mast is used to tie him into position.
Plugg nods at Master Scourge. "Three."
Scourge grins widely, limbers the whip and swings it down across the Varisian's bare back as Plugg counts.
"One." CRACK! A bright red line appears and the man grunts.
"Two." CRACK! A second line appears below the first, catching a dribble of blood from above.
"Three." CRACK! A third line cuts the first two, splashing the back with red droplets, and Crimson Cogward cries out.
As Crimson is untied and returned to the crew, Plugg announces, "Cogward was caught fighting with Tam Tate. Tate."
The wide burly dwarf steps forward and shucks his shirt to reveal a back white with scars. "I'll 'ave a fourth."
Mister Plugg and Master Scourge are only too happy to oblige. Tate bites his tongue and grunts as the four lashes split his skin. When he's released he rejoins the crew next to Cogward and spits at the human's feet. Cogward smashes Tate with his fist, who merely chuckles as Cogward is dragged back to the mainmast.
"Yer not very bright, ar' ye?" smiles Plugg. Crimson's neck turns bright red as he scowls. Another three lashes leaves his back a bloody mess.
Plugg cracks his knuckles as Crimson is carried back to the crew, away from Tate. "And now, our fairy who thinks 'e can fly." He looks at Sevien.
Lysandra looks on, equal parts concern and disgust.
Aemilia does her best to stay close to Scrimshaw Jack, the only soul on board who even knows her name. The pocket the bronze knife is hidden in is tempting, but at this point a possible ally is more valuable than a hidden weapon; she doesn't have the strength to kill a man in one blow, which is the only one she would get. She winces as the dwarf removes his shirt, even more convinved to do anything necessary to avoid punishment; scars like that would mark her forever as a slave and eliminate any chance of passing herself off as a lady. Her eyes rove over the assembled crew, counting the complement of women among them. Surely they don't strip down a woman in front of the whole ship to give her the lash....
Sevien nods his head at Plugg, Of course... he moves to the post he then lowers his shirt.
The scene below is...startling. His back and shoulders are one massive tattoo. A scene, possibly from hell, of a large Devil stands to one side. He holds a parchment, an infernal contract written on Seviens's back. Flames lick the outskirts of the contract. Various devils are pictured in the background kneeling in obvious reverance to the devil holding the contract...
Let your justice be done!
The Devil appears to be the Scion of Asmodeus.
Aemilia bites her lip to stifle a surprised laugh. She certainly hadn't been expecting that. If he could bear the long and arduous process that acquiring that tattoo must have been, perhaps this 'artist' wasn't as weak as she had assumed. Having been raised in a good colonial home in Sargava, she knows enough to surmise that he must be from the decadent home country of Cheliax and has enough latent patriotic spirit to look forward to seeing the big Devil on his back struck by the lash. Still, for all that he's skinny, she can't deny that there's something impressive about his casual refusal to quail in the face of being beaten for the third time since morning....
A murmur goes round the crew as Sevien reveals his tattooed back, and some of them even press forward.
Plugg
Plugg pauses. "He's owed three, from th' cat." Plugg gives his cat-o'-nine-tails to Scourge. Someone in the crowd murmurs something, but Scourge eagerly takes the cat and applies it with vigour.
"One." CRACK!
"Two." CRACK.
"Three." CRACK.
"And for our grand finale... bring up those two from the bilges."
Mata and Jakes Magpie are fetched from below decks and brought before Mister Plugg.
Mata emerge from the steep stairs filthy and dripping water. He tries to shake off the hands of his guards and walk forward proudly.
Xantrius quietly positioned himself to stand near the dark-haired Chelish beauty- one of the press ganged he had not yet had a chance to converse with. While the crowd's attention was on Sevien's tattoo, he took the time to start up a whispered conversation with her-
I wasn't given a chance to introduce myself to you this morning, my Lady. I am Xantrius Casmirre, of Cassomir.
Sevien falls unconscious from the power of the blows and lays limp against the mast...
Aemilia glances quickly aside at the whisper to see the young man with the cheekbones and the quick wit who was sent to the kitchens. Cassomir. She doesn't recognize the name, but the way he says it implies it's a place of some importance on the northern continent. With a quick look at Messrs Plugg and Scourge to make sure their attention is still on the Chelaxian tied to the mast, she cautiously sidles a bit closer and whispers back. "Aemilia Fullona, of Eleder." She surreptitiously offers him her fingers at the end of her nearer arm to clasp.
Despite the weeping wounds and the axe cut across his back, Mata slowly walks forward with his head held high. The man with him has scraggly black hair, a thin face with a long nose and several days stubble. He blinks in the fading light and looks round nervously but sighs and a smile breaks his features as Mata is brought forward and tied to the mast.
"Six o' the cat," orders Mister Plugg.
Maser Scourge eagerly complies.
"One." CRACK!
Mata's body sags under the blow, and Scourge's face is covered in disappointment. He looks to Plugg who looks to the red-head.
"Bring 'im back, we ain't finished."
She scowls and pulls out the ebony holy symbol. "Aye, aye, sir!"
Another wash of positive energy soothes over you all, closing wounds and mending bruises. Cogward, Sevien and Mata awake.
"Welcome back. TWO!" CRACK!
"Three." CRACK!
"Save th' rest fer t'morrow, Master Scourge. Wake 'im up. 'e'll be wantin' to help with Jake's keelhaulin'."
Jake's eyes go wide and he points at Mata being untied and roused to consciousness. "'e said ye weren't gonna kill us. It ain't fair! I was set up!!"
Jakes struggles desperately but to no avail, screaming and crying as he is bound, hands and feet, to a length of rope passed under the keel of the ship.
"Jakes Magpie. Caught stealin' from the quartermaster's store. I 'earby sentence ye ta be slowly keelhauled."
Plugg and Scourge eagerly take one end of the rope, along with half a dozen more crew. The rest take hold with considerably less relish, but do so, none the less.
"Make some space for th' newcomers. I want 'em ta feel th' way th' rope twitches an' jerks." He waits expectantly.
Aemilia shrugs and moves to take hold of the rope without much enthusiasm. Her fingers have taken enough punishment from coarse ropes today, but with so many men pulling, she doesn't expect to have to apply much strength to the task.
Under his shirt Mata has many old scars, they look quite old and not made by anything as precise as a whip.
Mata comes to and looks around.
Oh course they want me to part of this, killing the one person who was nice to me. He was only nice because he didn't know I was a half-orc. But he was still nice to me. They might well kill me if I say anything. He deserves to believe someone stood up for him. If they were going to kill me speaking up is unlikely to change anything, probably will just mean more whipping and that'll make me stronger.
In a weak voice
Aemilia glances quickly aside at the whisper to see the young man with the cheekbones and the quick wit who was sent to the kitchens. Cassomir. She doesn't recognize the name, but the way he says it implies it's a place of some importance on the northern continent. With a quick look at Messrs Plugg and Scourge to make sure their attention is still on the Chelaxian tied to the mast, she cautiously sidles a bit closer and whispers back. "Aemilia Fullona, of Eleder." She surreptitiously offers him her fingers at the end of her nearer arm to clasp.
Had we met in happier times, i'd offer you a pleasant walk away from this violence. Xantrius whispered softly and a little sadly. He took the offered fingers and squeezed her hand to offer her comfort as the grisly fate before Jakes Magpie was made clear. Before they moved away from each other, he asked her quickly-
The big rigger, the devil-tattooed and the dark-haired woman have already made an agreement to look out for one another and improve our lot together, when we are able. Shall I count you in, Aemilia of Eleder?
Xantrius winced as the Half-Orc spoke up once more and felt sorrow in his heart. He wished he could speak up and aid the stubborn fool, but there was too much to be risked at this stage and too little to gain. Nevertheless, he cast his eyes around for any easily accessible source of wool, if he could just grab a tuft of it from someone's clothing, he had a plan... A desperate plan, but a small chance to potentially save Jakes Magpie.
Had we met in happier times, i'd offer you a pleasant walk away from this violence. Xantrius whispered softly and a little sadly. He took the offered fingers and squeezed her hand to offer her comfort as the grisly fate before Jakes Magpie was made clear. Before they moved away from each other, he asked her quickly-
The big rigger, the devil-tattooed and the dark-haired woman have already made an agreement to look out for one another and improve our lot together, when we are able. Shall I count you in, Aemilia of Eleder?
She casts her eyes significantly to where Sevien, his tattoo obscured with blood, has just risen unsteadily to his feet. "Your allies haven't proven very effective in their mutual protection pact thus far," she whispers back. "Still... far be it from me to refuse the advances of a gentleman." Empty words, she thinks bitterly as she moves to the keelhauling rope. The one from Cassomir is in the galley and the brute in the ropes all day; am I to trust in the ability of a woman and a man who cannot even finish his own work to help me? Better to form my own alliances.
Nakon watches the scene impassively but his emotions surge when he sees weakling's tatoos.
Yes.. that one has some part to play. But what, what? Am I to aid him, kill him myself ...
He pays little attention to the whippings, the crack and cry of pain all too familiar, concentrating on the faces around. Absently, he notes funny man and the flower whispering together. The former's plan was clear, he would sing his sweet songs. It was just a question of whether the wrong person heard them before they bore fruit. Either way would help Nakon though, he felt it.
The command to aid in the keelhauling was all too obvious. Bind us in blood. Make us glad it is not us. Teach us to obey.
He moved forward with the others.
Noone commands Nakon, noone! Never again... First the Change. Then ... All he could see in his mind was red.
Ok, no need to wait on Xantrius then.
Xantrius sighed, as his plan was clearly not feasible with what he had available. Regretfully, he took the rope along with the others, hovering near Aemilia.
"Thick as thieves, they say."
Mister Plugg lets go the rope and walks up to Mata, looking him directly in the eye.
"Unlike ye, this ain't th' first time Magpie's taken stuff what ain't 'is. But unlike ye, he's proven 'e can be useful aboard a ship. So, ye ken take the rope, or ye ken die in 'is place. But if ye can't follow orders, ye've chosen th' second. Now, take the gods damned rope!"
Mata considers mentioning he didn't take anything but what was given to him, but decides that wouldn't help.
Mata looks across at Jakes Magpie shrugs apologetically and goes and picks up the rope.
Sevien slowly rises and slips his shirt back over his shoulders. The sting of the whip still there to remind him of what just happened. He doesn't know the man so cares little for his fate. He was destined to die before he came on board.
Sevien steps up behind Aemilia. Although her allure was obvious, Sevien does his best to just nod at her and ignore her womanly charms, preparing to do what needed to be done to the other man.
Once everyone takes the rope, Mister Plugg does so as well. At his command, the rope is hauled and the pleading, sobbing Jakes Magpie is silenced as he vanishes over the side of the ship and below the gentle waves. Hand over hand the rope is slowly drawn through the crew. The rope almost pulls itself at first, then catches occasionally, until finally it offers some resistance as the dead weight is lifted from the water. The process takes only a minute. What appears on the other side has been cut to shreds and is soon thrown overboard to feed the sharks.
Ambrose Kroop fetches Xantrius and the two of them dish out to the crew the fish stew they've prepared for dinner. Usually referred to as "Fishguts", Ambrose recieves little praise for his concoction. The captain’s cabin girl, “Caulky” Tarroon, collects the officers’ food from the galley and takes it to the captain’s cabin. She takes enough for at least a half dozen. Ambrose then informs Xantrius he's off to bed and staggers unsteadily below decks.
As supper finishes up, there are warm greetings for the female half-orc who appears on deck with a full bucket. The quartermaster, Cut-Throat Grok, has a huge scar across her neck and, from the bucket, doles out half a pint of rum to every member of the crew. You notice Mister Plugg and Master Scourge watching you as you're each awarded your rum ration.
Goodnight Ambrose... Xantrius said softly in farewell to the cook.
Now... How to spend the evening...
Nakon isn't very quick but he is no fool. 'Why do they care if we drink? More drugs? But then its out of the bucket for everyone.'
He takes a mug but fakes a few sips, watching to see what effect the brew has on the rest of the crew.
Anyone know where we are supposed to sleep? The room we awoke in? I think I have had enough for one day and am ready to retire before I get the lash again.
Lysandra sniffs at the rum ration. Taking note of Nakon's actions, she only takes the most minor of sips until she sees the reaction of the other crew members.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Unfortunately, Sevien, I believe we are supposed to stay where we awoke."
Looking around at the other press-ganged crew members, "Other than the obvious injuries Sevien suffered, did any of the rest of you have any unfortunate run-ins with Mister Plugg or Scourge?"
Mister Plugg, have you any other duties for us at the moment?
assuming no...
Maybe we should continue this discussion in our estate room, he says sarcastically.
Anyone else wish to join? Since we are stuck on this ship for a while we should get to know each other a little better before you are either whipped or keelhauled to death...
he turns and heads towards the cabin where they awoke.
In the estate room to Lysandra after she joins him, if not he asks her later, I could actually use a little more healing if you have some? I used mine earlier. Seeing this situation I will plan on knowing more until we have a reason for my other magic. Are you a healer of some type?
"Only a trick I picked up in my travels...I wouldn't call myself a healer, but I can help a little." She says casting a curative spell on Sevien.
CLW: