The two pirates slash at the unarmed paladin, gleeful murder in their expressions.
Eleuterio grimaces as the two pirates thrust their blades into him, then glares at them. "You should not have done that," he said, laying a hand over the wound. White light glowed from beneath and flesh knit itself back together. "My hands were tied while you did nothing to hinder me. Now, however, I can defend myself. Inheritor, aid me!" He took a swing at Syl, his fist glowing with the same white light.
Swift:
Standard: Punch Syl, smite evil. This draws an attack of opportunity. Not much I can do about it.
Syl tries to parry Eleuterio's strike with her dagger, and although his fist rocks her back and sends blood flying from her nose and mouth, the sharp blade cuts his arm from wrist to shoulder.
Narwhal tries to take advantage of the opening as Eleuterio focuses his attentions on Syl, but Syl's wound makes her wary, and her own counterstrike seems to be more about keeping Eleuterio from hitting her again than about actually damaging him.
Nonetheless, both attacks get through, and two more stab wounds hinder the paladin further.
Eleuterio cries out as Syl slices his arm open, and blood pours from the jagged wound. He clasps his hand over the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood. The two pirates stab at him twice more, and he dodges way from the worst of them, receiving minor cuts for his bobbing and weaving. "No mercy is it?", the paladin spits. "Of course not. It never is with piratical scum like yourselves. If I am to die here in the bilges, then guide my hand, Iomedae. Let me take one of these black souls into Pharasma's realm with me." He throws himself at Syl, paying no attention to his own safety any longer. All that matters is setting the ledger straight - one soul for another.
Swift:
Attack Syl again, same as before - this time, no smite. I'm out of pally tricks now.
Hopefully, that's another hit...and that Syl goes down.
Syl tries to block Eleuterio's punch with her knife again, but the paladin's speed is simply more than she can match, and his fist makes contact with her temple. Her eyes roll up into her head, and she falls bonelessly into the knee-deep water, her dagger disappearing into the dark brine as well. It occurs to Eleuterio that she's likely to drown that way, unconscious and under the water, but he's in little shape to do much about it, what with the dwarf and his nasty dagger still threatening him.
For a moment, Eleuterio thinks about grabbing the blade. It would be all too easy to let Syl drown while he and Narwhal fight. He might be able to take Narwhal properly armed, and he would be able to walk from the bilges alive. Down here, in the heat and dank seawater, who would know? Who would care? All it would take would be to let her lie.
That's what a pirate would do, anyway.
He reached for Syl, grabbing her from the brine. He pulled her close to his body, wrapping his bleeding arm around her shoulders, using her as a shield. "Stand down, Narwhal!" he yelled. "Throw down your blade, and none need die today. We will face the lash together for quarrelling, but all of us can remain breathing." His gaze was level at Narwhal - he knew that it was folly to think he would truly stand down, but he had to give him one last chance.
He was a paladin, after all. Redemption was his business.
Pick up Syl, and hold her between Narwhal and myself. I'm not sure if this gives me cover, or if this is even an act becoming of a paladin, but it's a damn sight better in Eleuterio's mind than drowning. It might even give Narwhal pause before attacking him again, if he thinks he might stab his friend.
Narwhal sees Eleuterio's attention turn toward saving Syl, and he leaps forward in cowardly fashion.
The blade sinks home, but the paladin grits his teeth, finishes pulling the body from the water and delivers his message to the dwarf. Narwhal pauses to consider the situation, but only for a moment - with a nasty smile, he replies, "I've been promised the lash won't touch me as long as you die, Iomedaen, and I'm the sort that keeps his promises." He slashes again, heedless of the unconscious form of Syl in the way.
The swing is clumsy, and ELeuterio almost manages to get both himself and Syl out of the way - almost. Unfortunately, he can't quite get his erstwhile foe clear, and the blade cuts her shoulder.
Eleuterio glares at Narwhal as he attacks regardless of Syl's life, and shakes his head with disapproval. "Just remember, you wanted this fight, pirate." He reached into the water, grasping around for Syl's blade. All the while he did his best to avoid Narwhal - he couldn't take too many more of those.
Total defense, and grab for the dagger. Would total defense apply to Syl as well?
With Eleuterio ready for him, Narwhal's attempt to run the paladin through is much less successful, and when he comes up with the dagger, the grin disappears entirely from the dwarf's face. Knowing his odds have decreased dramatically, Narwhal slashes again, hoping to strike before Eleuterio is fully prepared.
Even holding up Syl in his off-hand, though, Eleuterio fends off the attack easily, and can at last go on the offensive against the other pirate.
Finally armed, Eleuterio lashes out at Narwhal, bringing the blade to bare against the dwarf. His vision was swimming, no doubt from the blood loss. His attacks were guarded, and he warded off the blows as much from Syl as he did for himself.
Not sure if Syl grants Narwhal a cover bonus, so I'll let you figure that out, DM. Fighting defensively, so that will bring my AC to 17 after everything's accounted for.
Even holding Syl as awkwardly as he must, Eleuterio finds his opponent is much less effective against an opponent that actually has a weapon. The dagger slashes Narwhal's chest, and the dwarf's eyes begin shifting toward the ladder - sadly for him, the ladder is behind Eleu. Narwhal shifts to the side, trying to circle the paladin, and makes another attack with his blade.
Eleuterio parries that strike as easily he has the others, though.
"What's the matter, Narwhal?", Eleuterio asked in a mocking tone. "You wanted this fight. Have the balls to finish it, rather than tucking tail and running back to the bosun's skirt." He made a few feints towards the dwarf before striking, but Syl's dead weight made it difficult to strike, and his vision was swimming from the blood loss. The stabs refused to cut flesh, but he also used the blade to give Narwhal second thoughts before striking.
Same as last round. AC 17 again.
Dang, I was on a roll!
Narwhal makes another slash at Eleuterio before circling again, winding up next to the bottom of the bilge ladder.
Again, he stabs Syl instead of the paladin, and the blood flows freely into the briny water around her feet.
"And what will the bosun do if you flee, Narwhal?", Eleuterio continues taunting. "Think you'll end up with out the kiss of the lash for failing him? I guess we'll find out who you're more frightened of - him or me." Eleuterio seizes the initiative, lashing out with the blade, leaving a bloody wound across the dwarf's cheek.
Yep, same as last time.
Narwhal ignored the taunt, turning his back on Eleu and trying to flee up the ladder.
For a moment, Eleuterio thinks about stabbing the dwarf as he retreats. It's what Narwhal would do, were the roles reversed. In the end, though, that's what stays his hand. "You had your shot, Narwhal. Tell the bosun that he'll need to send bigger men to kill the son of 'Rumrunner' Reis. Or, in you and Syl's case, send men in the first place."
Once the dwarf escapes, he slumps against the wall, exhausted from the fight. The heat was stifling, and the his body was weak from the many wounds he sustained. Iomedae had protected him, but things were far from over aboard the Wormwood, that much was sure.
Above decks, Evril, Artevious and Chum see Narwhal Tate stumble up the ladder from the cargo deck and hurry over to Mr. Scourge, and it is impossible to miss the stab wounds on the dwarf's body. There is an intense whispered argument between the two men, during which Scourge looks increasingly furious and Narwhal cringes further and further away. After a few moments, Mr. Plugg gets involved as well, and the first mate looks no happier than the bosun did at whatever it is Narwhal has to say. Finally, Plugg calls out, "Mister Quinn!" but Sandara has already disappeared belowdecks.
Down in the bilge, a few minutes after Narwhal left, the hatch over Eleuterio's head opens and Sandara appears at the top of the ladder. "Seawraith's sails," she swears, seeing the unconscious Syl and the savaged paladin. "As soon as I saw Narwhal, I thought there might be trouble," she adds, climbing down. "Good to see you're not dead, Iomedaen." Without waiting to be asked, she reaches out a hand, fishing her holy symbol out with the other, and murmurs a quiet prayer to the Pirate Queen. Eleuterio's wounds close as the healing spell works upon him. When she's finished, Sandara looks down at the unconscious pirate, covered in bruises from Eleuterio's fist and slashes from Tate's knife. "What are you going to do with her?" the cleric asks.
Eleuterio instinctively backs away from the hatch as it's opened, initially believing Plugg has sent more men to kill him. He's relieved to see Sandara on the other side, and relaxes his guard, lowering his dagger. "As much as it pains me to say this, Sandara, I welcome the Pirate Queen's favor today. From the first day we met, you've been a staunch ally and a welcome harbor on this black freighter. Might I get your help once again?" He shifts Syl's limp form in his grasp, stabbing the dagger into the side of the ship for the moment. "I hadn't quite figured out how I was going to get her out of the bilges yet. A length of rope should be enough."
Assuming Sandara finds one, Eleuterio ties the rope around Syl's waist and up under her armpits, exchanging places with Sandara to haul the woman's body out of the bilges. "Please, see to Syl's wounds, and Narwhal's as well. They've probably got a date at the mast this evening. I do too, at that. No matter. One more thing." Eleuterio leans in close, whispering quietly to the pirate lass. "Spread the word. Let the rest of the crewmen know that this is what happens when you tangle with the son of 'Rumrunner' Reis or one of his friends. I will take no action against any man who has not wronged me or my friends, but respond with great and final reckoning on those who hinder us. Let them know this, Sandara. It is time they know exactly who it is they are dealing with." And time I let my black-hearted father's legacy work for me, the paladin thought.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," the paladin concluded, returning to the ladder. "I have the rest of my time in the bilges to see to. Would you be so kind as to close the hatch behind me?" The holy warrior manages a smirk as he descends back into the stifling heat.
Sandara laughs delightedly at Eleuterio's words as the hatch closes. A short while later, she reappears on deck, dragging Syl's unconscious body, supremely unconcerned with the additional bruises she is delivering to the other woman as she manhandles her across the deck to dump her unceremoniously at Scourge's feet. "Compliments of Eleterio Reis, scion of 'Rumrunner' Reis!" she calls out, grinning. "Seems Mr. Tate and Mr. Lonegan crossed the wrong sailor today. Didn't I see you search him for weapons, sir?" she asks Scourge, her voice full of mockery. "And still, look how it went for these two!" She laughs again, the sound carrying on the ocean breeze as she lifts her holy symbol and channels healing energy for the two of them. Syl opens her eyes and looks around, clearly shocked to still be alive, while Narwhal looks utterly murderous at the public humiliation. Scourge and Plugg look little better, but for the moment, the first mate does nothing but look on, and the bosun sends the half-recovered pirates to work alongside Evril scraping down the deck, hurried along by Scourge's swift-kicking boots.
That night, Scourge puts Lonegan and Tate before the mast and gives each three lashes, but does nothing but eye Eleuterio with undisguised fury. The words "'Rumrunner' Reis" are heard several times during the evening's entertainments, in a variety of tones, from awe to disgust - but regardless, it is clear that many aboard the Wormwood are taking the Iomedaen paladin more seriously than they had before...
I could scarcely believe my ears. Indeed, I had to have it told to me several times before the true weight of the news sank in. But when it did, I felt awash in wonder and excitement.
I hurried to find my comrade forthwith once the realization dawned that evening. Confronting him, resting my hand on my rapier's hilt, I looked him straight in the eye, and said, You've been holding out on us, my good Eleuterio!
Before he could react, I shook his hand and embraced him fiercely. You, too, are the scion of a notorious pirate of the Shackles!?! I threw my head back and laughed heartily in pirately merriment. It's like we're brothers! Me, the son of Ricardo de Poisson, and you, the grandson of this 'Rumrunner' Reis! Or does that make me your uncle? I'm not really sure.
But regardless! This is cause for celebration! I wonder if your grandfather and my father had any run-ins? My mother's novels make no mention of someone named 'Rumrunner' -- and certainly not anyone named Reis, though I suspect she changed some names to better protect his allies from his many enemies. What tales have you heard? Surely there must be great deeds in your family's history!
This Wormwood might be a trying vessel at times, but she was a vessel of fate, for certain!
Eleuterio is slightly perplexed as Artevious pulls him into an embrace, but his confusion resolves into a dark glower. "Great deeds, Mister Poisson? Hardly. I'm not surprised you've not run across the name 'Rumrunner' Reis in your novels. His exploits aren't the sort of thing a soul would expect to find in fairy tales and children's stories. I don't recall hearing of the sacking of Kibwe in your tales, nor the night he and his crew stole into Song-Wind-City and slaughtered hundreds in their beds, running the streets red with blood while they made off with their victim's wealth. The night he and his crew made port at the Merry Widow and made off with a half dozen of the priestesses of Besmara there was conspicuously absent as well. That's to say nothing of those he met on the open seas. Those with whom he had no quarrel he merely slaughtered. But if you had aroused his ire? Then he got creative. One I heard about was that he lashed the captain to the mast of his own ship and cut off the man's eyelids so he was forced to watch the torture and slaughter of his crew. Then, after the crew was dead and the deck crimson with blood, he set the ship aflame and left the captain to burn alive."
"So there you have it. The lines of Reis and Poisson meet at last. I hope it's as glorious as your storybooks have led you to believe."
I stood, shocked -- shocked, I tell you -- at the words of Mr. Reis, as he described acts most horrific. My mind worked furiously, as my outrage grew.
Those. Chelaxian. Fiends! I mustered at last. I'd heard many a horrific tale of piracy myself from their ministers of information, but for them to sully your grandfather's name! How dare they!
I could barely constrain my ire. Poor Eleuterio, his grandfather slandered most heinously by vicious innuendo! But strangely, that outrage changed to clarity of purpose, thinking on his last words -- the lines of Reis and Poisson meeting. I met his haunted gaze with a steely one of my own. It shall be glorious, my friend. You and I -- and these other stalwart worthies -- shall shake the very foundations of the Shackles.
I paused a moment, thought, then asked, Do islands even have foundations?
Chum watched quietly, as usual, as the excitable pirate spoke to the suddenly-more-respected Reis. Two of them. If they sent two after me, they would not even work up a sweat. Well, in the bilges, everyone sweats. But they'd have me skinned in no time. he shudders at the thought and starts watching his colleagues for any that might bear him ill will.
Eleuterio can only stare blankly at Artevious' response. Finally, he chuckles softly to himself and shakes his head. "You know, Mister Poisson...if it weren't for that hat of yours, I'd swear you were sun-touched."
There is a distinct tension in the air as the sun rises over the eastern horizon the next morning. Crewmen aligned with Scourge and Plugg glare unrelenting daggers at those you have made your friends, and it is hard not to notice the almost-palpable battle lines forming across the deck. Slippery Syl, far from being thankful for the life Eleuterio chose to save, seems even more angry than before, as though his mercy were somehow a mockery of her.
It all begins to seem like a coiled spring, twisting tighter and tighter...
...until the cry of "Sail ho!" from Barefoot Samms in the crow's nest turns everyone's attention to the horizon. Within minutes, Captain Harrigan's spyglass confirms that the distant speck is in fact a merchant ship, and he has ordered a pursuit course.
Piracy, at last, has come to the Wormwood...
Eleuterio almost seemed pleased with himself. Not only had he thwarted Plugg's plot to kill him, but the Wormwood's crew was divided amongst themselves. He did take a moment to speak with Syl, heedless of the contemptuous look on her face as he approached. "I know you did what you did because you had little choice," the paladin said. "Had you passed up the chance to attack me, you would have received a lashing worse than the one you got. Just keep in mind - I stayed my hand, while Narwhal did not. You should put some serious thought into where your allegiances lie, Syl. Think about the people you count as your allies, and ask yourself if you can't do better than that."
He only gets a bit of work done in the galley when he hears the words he'd been dreading since he awoke beneath the Wormwood's deck.
"Sail ho!"
Eleuterio's throat tightened as he felt the ship begin to change course. "I think I'll be needed on deck shortly, Fishguts," he says. "Might I have a moment to prepare myself?"
I couldn't help but feel something rather odd was happening upon the Wormwood. My faithful comrades and I seemed as thick as ever, yet there was a very definite gloom of hostility from those others with whom we hadn't made any headway.
In fact, despite my continued exhortations that a crew should be united against all ills that may befall it, it seemed as though the crew was strongly divided. I truly couldn't quite put my finger upon why those who brought us on board the Wormwood in the first place should seem to be the most antagonistic. I mean, Plugg and Scourge pressganged us. One would think that they would be happy to have brought on board such a sturdy bunch of souls. We weathered the storm, I bested the Owlbear, and we brought aboard some very tasty sea monsters. Though, I suppose we did beat up our wake-up committee, failed to board the vessel, and I'm not sure what transpired in the bilges, but Plugg and Scourge seemed none-too-happy about its result.
I was quite confounded by it all, truthfully.
But then, just as my mind had twisted itself into knots over the same ponderances, I heard the call: Sails on the horizon!
Finally! The chance to do some actual pirating! Perhaps all we've needed this whole time was a worthy prize to seize!
Chum looks neither excited nor bothered by the news of another ship. If anything, he looks resigned. He'd been here before - not on the Wormwood, of course, but on another ship. This part of the pirate trade interested him little at all. Being on the ocean, feeling the wind in his face, that's what he wants.
As the others prepare as they will for the upcoming conflict, the slight half-elf merely checks that his cudgel is at his belt and keeps running messages.
Crewmen aligned with Scourge and Plugg glare unrelenting daggers at those you have made your friends, and it is hard not to notice the almost-palpable battle lines forming across the deck.
There is no hiding the malice in his gaze as Evril locks eyes with members of Scourge's gang. Give me a reason, shackle-****ers, and by the Vault I will show you your doom.
"Sail ho!"
Breaking out of his dark daydream, Evril looks out towards the unfortunate vessel. "Oh good. A reason," he says cryptically. "Let's hope it's not full of priests and orphans."
Fishguts shakes his head. "Naw, thersh time yeh, Loo. Trush me, 'vebin heer befoor. When we geh closh, th'capn will wan' th'hogsh." He gestures vaguely toward the small pen where he keeps the ship's pigs. Black-Hearted Bezebel eyes the hogs distastefully, fluffing up his feathers and turning to study the ceiling intently.
The chase proceeds slowly, hours ticking by as the two ships race ahead of the wind. It is soon clear, though, that the broad beam of the other ship is doing it no favors against the narrower, cleaner profile of the Wormwood; as the afternoon wears on to evening, the speck of sail grows slowly into a clearly-visible ship. Night falls, but the vessels are close enough now that the clear night sky and the lanterns on the two ships keep them within easy visual range of one another. Sandara, clearly excited, suggests everyone get some sleep - the Wormwood will likely catch the other ship not long after dawn, and it will be important to be ready. The atmosphere aboard the Wormwood is tense, but in a completely different fashion than it was earlier in the day; most of the crew takes Sandara's advice, going to their hammocks early and keeping their favored weapons close to hand.
The ship's bell rings well before its usual time, but many among the crew are already awake when it does; the first rays of dawn are just crossing the horizon, and when you reach the main deck you see that only half a mile or so now separates the Wormwood and her prey. Caulky finds Eleuterio and tells him, "Cap'n wants the hogs. Go tell Fishguts, and get them slaughtered."
As preparations begin, I work my way around to speak to as many of my allies as possible, reminding them that 'accidents' can happen, and they should be sure to keep close to friends they can trust not to bump into them, rapier first.
I drew my rapier and stood at the railing, ready for action. After several minutes, the black dot on the horizon seemed to grow slightly. I sheathed my rapier and drew my pistol. As my heart thudded in anticipation, I holstered my pistol and drew my rapier again. The black dot remained tiny on the horizon. I drew my pistol again, weighing both in my hands. The rapier returned to its spot on my belt, as no doubt it would be needed before both vessels closed. I checked its shot and pointed it along its sights. I waited several more minutes. I checked the shot again, and made sure it was ready.
Goodness, this was taking a while.
I paced about, drew my rapier again, and checked its edge. It again returned to its sheath, as I turned the pistol over in my hand. I ran up to the bow, and whooped an exultant cheer, trying to rally the crew to the joys of the chase. The sails whipped in the wind, and I pointed my pistol in the direction of the tiny speck on the horizon.
Suddenly, Scourge's lash cracked, and I had to return to the rigging. This was certainly a most anticlimactic situation. There it was, a merchant vessel just ahead, but this interminable distance seemed aggravatingly far.
I couldn't believe as hour after hour dragged on. While there was a certain inevitability about it as the speck grew into a dot, into a dark ship, but as the sun dropped low, I realized we weren't getting to have our first real pirate episode until the next day. This certainly wasn't how it was depicted in my mother's novels.
Sleep came slowly that night.
Chum, having seen this before, can't help but smile and shake his head at the eager pirate as he waited at the railing. He recognized the wisdom of Evril's warning and vowed to keep his eyes open. "You speak truth. Be sure to watch your own back, sir."
Keeping the warning in mind, he continues running messages and falls asleep easily.
Eleuterio awakens the next day to find the merchantman far closer than he'd hoped. He'd prayed that night that the wind take their quarry far away from them, but the dark desires of the heathen lot around him were apparently too great for his single voice to drown out. Perhaps I might be able to swing aboard their ship, and fight alongside them. The four of us could be rescued, though I doubt the rest of this ship would see it as such. I'll have to play this one by ear, but it might just be the opportunity I've been looking for.
He raises an eyebrow as Caulky orders him to slaughter the pigs. He nods, and heads belowdecks to fetch Fishguts. "Captain wants a pork dinner, Fishguts. Looks like the butchery starts before we even throw our grapnels."
Morning at last! I hurriedly drew on my boots and made sure my gear was in its place. Then I dashed up to the deck, hoping I hadn't missed the entire affair. It still seemed rather quiet up there.
I hadn't missed it! Our prize was still plenty far away, but many of its details could be made out. Now, at last, our pirate adventure would truly start. I moved up to my comrades, wondering why they didn't seem to share the exuberance I felt. Evril's caution about accidents happening during a battle was certainly welcome. I figure we'd be in for some cramped fighting, so no doubt it would be imperative to keep one's wits about, to know friend from foe. But given our weeks at sea together, I doubted I could possibly mistake any of my mates for another sailor, nor would I expect anyone to forget who I was.
Fishguts nods at Eleuterio's words, replying sagely, "'Sta chum th'watersh." Working quickly and efficiently with Eleuterio's help, Fishguts slaughters six of the pigs and carries the remains to the main deck, where they are unceremoniously tossed into the sea. (It is hard not to remember what happened to Jakes Magpie on that first day.)
Just a few minutes afterward, Riaris Krine summons all four of you to the aft deck, near the railing behind the Wormwood's helm. The master gunner seems intense and focused, but perhaps the most shocking thing about her demeanor is the fact that she uses not a single profane word as she speaks to you all. "The ship’s wheel is on the aft deck, just below the sterncastle. You’re going to grapple over, kill the guards on the sterncastle, take the wheel, and guard the ship’s boats. Kill anyone who tries to get away on one of the boats. Don’t move from the wheel until the fighting’s done, or you’ll have to answer to me. Oh yeah, as we get close, it’s going to get foggy. Just stick to what I told you to do." She levels a finger at Artevious. "You. You're in charge of your boarding party. Any questions?"
With a fierce grin I replied, None whatsoever! I rubbed my hands together briskly, then put my fists proudly on my hips while turning to Evril, Chum and Eleuterio.
We've been given quite the task, you and I! We'll be wresting their helm, likely from their captain himself! I tell you friends, we've been pressganged into destiny. Savor it! I can't tell you how I've longed to follow in my father's footsteps, and my first battle upon the high seas is nigh!
I turned and focused upon our target, studying her lines and watching as her crew moves about. The sterncastle was in sight, and I knew soon I'd be standing on those decks with my mates with me. Something nagged at me, though.
I turned back to the trio who have certainly been the standout worthies aboard this ship. I know some of you would rather be elsewhere, I began, looking each in the eye in turn. But acquit yourselves well here, and there's no telling how the stories will grow! Through boldness, bravery, and steel will you soon become masters of your own fate! It starts here! Now!
And there's no one in these waters I'd rather have fighting at my side!
To myself, resignedly, "Kill them? For what offense?"
Louder, "You know I have little to offer in a fight, but you'll get what I have."
Eleuterio's jaw was clenched in disgust as he heard their task. I have not come so far to redeem the name of Reis as to turn pirate now. I'll swing aboard as Krine wants, but that ship is the best chance of rescue and return to civilization as I'd dared hope we find. Once I'm aboard that ship, I'd be a fool not to try to ally with that crew and help them repel the Wormwood's crew. I've always heard one man in the right place at the right time is all that's needed to make the difference. I hope to the gods that this is that moment.
As the two ships close, suddenly waves of fog wrap themselves around the two vessels. A heavy, metallic thrum sounds as one of the two ballistae on the merchantman fires at the Wormwood's rigging - a second later, the other ballista fires as well, but the fog means that both bolts miss their marks. Moment by moment, the two ships grow closer, until only a handful of yards separates them.
"Kill them, Artevious? Is that the way it's done in your novels?"
Shrugging his shoulders, he says, "Whatever we do, we'll need hooks and ropes to do it, hey?"
Well, it's not really mentioned how they're dispatched, I responded to my good friend Chum. Many of my father's enemies had numerous minions that had to be dispatched straightaway, and my mother -- not knowing details such as names, appearances, and the like -- simply didn't describe their fates after they encountered my father. If they were not slain, no doubt they slunk away to avoid their cruel masters' ire after failing to best Captain Poisson.
I considered Chum's other query. Hooks and ropes, you say? Given our performance on the jolly, I'd say we wait until our ships are grappled, then we either trust our legs to propel us aboard, or use lines in the rigging to swing ourselves across. With that suggestion, I started looking for just such a line that would allow myself enough length to swing out over the enemy's sterncastle.