True to his word, Chum offers Evril his coin pouch.
I press the dagger as well as the offered coin back into Chum's fist. "Keep it, Master Seaborn. You'll know when the time comes for repayment.
Turning to Grok, I offer a thankful bow. "You do whatever you have to do to stay safe, my dear, until I can buy you a drink in port, and get you hired on to a proper vessel. And if the time comes, and that doesn't seem likely, take one of them with you, hear me?
Chum nods, grinning, "I'll be watching for the opportunity, my friend."
Grok gives all of you hugs, then firmly ushers you out while she's still holding it together. With the shopping arrangements sorted out, there's nothing left to do but board the Man's Promise and start getting settled in.
The Man’s Promise is a three-masted sailing ship, 105 feet long and 30 feet wide. A minimum crew of 20 is required to sail her. She has three decks - the main deck, middle deck, and the cargo hold. The crew of the Wormwood has thoroughly ransacked the Man’s Promise, and with very few exceptions, the ship is empty beyond common items such as hammocks, lanterns, rope, and a few other mundane objects. As you board the new vessel, Mr. Plugg and Master Scourge assign you and the rest of the crew to berths and cabins on the ship; all of you are assigned to the crew berths on the middle deck, along with all of your friends except for Sandara and Barefoot Samms. Those two, along with the rest of the sailors aside from Mr. Plugg, are assigned to the officer's cabin on the main deck, beneath the foredeck. Plugg himself claims the captain's cabin on the aft of the main deck, beneath the aft deck.
In addition to the cabins, the middle deck of the Man's Promise contains a secondary hold and armory forward of the crew berths (although there are no actual weapons in it at the moment), and the galley and cook's cabin (where Fishguts bunks down) aft. The cargo hold below is basically empty at this point after the looting, with only the ship's water barrel present in the otherwise bare, cavernous space. Other than the obvious elements, the Man's Promise's main deck only holds a few items of note, including the two ship's boats (a cutter and a gig, the former fished out of the ocean after the battle) and the two light ballistae on the sterncastle.
No sooner than you have put your stuff in your duffels and picked out a hammock than Plugg assigns you your tasks so that the Man's Promise can get under sail. Eleuterio is still helping Fishguts, while Evril is sent to the bilges and Chum made to start swabbing the decks. Artevious is sent into the tops to work the upper rigging, and it seems as though Plugg, Scourge and some of the less-friendly crew are watching in hopes he falls. With the crew given their duties, the Wormwood and Man's Promise both hoist sail and set their courses.
I said my final goodbyes to the crew remaining on the Wormwood, though thankfully most of my mates were traveling with me. I tipped my hat and bowed with a flourish at poor Grok, who appeared to already begin missing us.
And so again we took to the high seas, separated from Captain Harrigan and the Wormwood, but underneath the leadership of Plugg and Scourge. I was again sent into the rigging, and the new set of ropes and lines confounded me greatly until the able assistance of Barefoot Samms and Ratline came to my aid. Once high within the rigging, my general pirately knowhow kept me on top of my daily tasks.
It was strangely enough, almost the same as before the sighting of the Man's Promise. I had hoped a bit of action would finally forge a bond between the two sides of the crew, but that certainly did not happen. I thought about Port Peril, and wondered if taking my leave of this ship might not be the best thing, if staying on meant continued sailing under Messrs. Plugg and Scourge.
Chum takes to the swabbing with determination if not excitement. He has no desire to anger the 'captain' since he doesn't know how much the real captain kept Plugg and Scourge in line on the Wormwood. He carefully and diligently keeps the deck as clean as he can, keeping an eye out to make sure he doesn't trip one of the others doing their tasks - especially the message runner, since he has a particular empathy with that poor soul.
Not wanting to start my time on the Man's Promise by putting myself completely at the mercy of the merciless, I endeavor to be as efficient as possible on the pumps. I do, however, find a little time during the occasional respite to make sure the crew had searched this area thoroughly as well. After all, there was quite an assortment of things hidden in the Wormwood's gut.
Evril doesn't find anything except more bilge spiders. These he kills quickly, but the warning is clear.
Evril doesn't find anything except more bilge spiders. These he kills quickly, but the warning is clear.
The silence was really set the Man's Promise apart from the Wormwood. Her skeleton crew made for a much quieter time than the full complement aboard the other ship. Eleuterio was thankful for it, even though it meant he had to work harder. Less people meant less complications, and his life had been far too complicated as of late. He only had a few moments to select a bunk when Plugg sneered and ordered him back into the galley. "More of yer Taldane cuisine, you worthless whoreson!", he barked as he sent the paladin back belowdecks.
He sighs as he enters the galley to find Fishguts snoring at a table, one of his arms wrapped around a empty bottle of rum. Black-Hearted Bezhebel roosts upon his head, clucking softly to herself. He surveys the galley - the hardtack sits in a soft lump upon the board waiting to be rolled out, several empty pots sit upon an unlit stove, and the lid to the barrel of salt pork sits ajar. "The more things change...", the paladin sighed as he tied on an apron, setting to work at the jobs that laid before him.
Taking 10 on Profession (cook) gets me a 16, so we're good!
By the time sundown arrives, Scourge seems almost disappointed that he has no excuse to take any of you before the post during the Bloody Hour. Once Eleuterio and Fishguts hand around the evening's stew, Plugg orders most of the crew - everyone whose berths are belowdecks, anyway - to go below and sack down. "Aboard the Man's Promise," he snarls, "we'll have none of the loose discipline you useless slobs were accustomed to back on the Wormwood. Rum rations are a waste of time, and I'll take the whip myself to any fool I catch throwing dice or the like after hours. You're here to work, not lollygag about like a cheap Taldan whore."
During what free time is afforded them, Chum can be found staring into the distance, as if listening to a song only he can hear.
I didn't rightly know what to think. I suppose it made a certain sense that with the reduced crew there on the Man's Promise that we needed everyone ship-shape and able-bodied in case we ran into some sort of adventure, but Mr. Plugg seemed intent on belaying any sort of fun or revelry aboard. There was, of course, to be expected a certain lack of strenuous discipline aboard any pirate vessel, otherwise one would just join the navy of one's choosing. I'm not quite sure if Plugg understood that.
I shook my head with a touch of sadness, then headed belowdecks to confer with my mates. I must say, I'm finding myself at quite the quandary. As much of a setback as it may be to my burgeoning piratical career, I do believe that I may jump ship when we return to Port Peril. This isn't quite the pirate adventure I had expected. I looked quite pointedly at the faces of Evril, Chum and Eleuterio, and those others whom we have befriended as I confessed. Given your demonstrated lack of enthusiasm for sailing under the flag of Harrigan and his officers, I would expect you to do the same. But what would you say to continuing to sail together, under the colors of a captain we would be proud to serve? I've yet to find any of the myriad allies of my father, who no doubt would take us on.
Chum shrugs without looking at the enthusiastic pirate. "I belong to the sea. I will serve one ship or another as long as it be necessary. But I would prefer to serve with you three, at least, if the opportunity presents itself."
As the paladin rolls out the hardtack, he passes the time chatting with Fishguts. "You're in a rare mood, Master Kroop. Did some good fortune come to you?"
***
Eleuterio shrugs at Plugg's announcement, unperturbed that the shipboard games and drinking would be curtailed. Inwardly, he smiled. That's another mistake, Plugg. If you're trying to start a mutiny aboard your own ship, you've done very well for yourself.
"Aye, Master Chum, I would much prefer to sail with the three of you at my side any day. Speaking of Port Peril, we should probably sleep in shifts until we get there. I trust Plugg and his men about as far as I can throw them. Tomorrow, though, we start speaking with the crew. I'm curious how everyone else is reacting to Plugg's draconian demeanor."
As the paladin rolls out the hardtack, he passes the time chatting with Fishguts. "You're in a rare mood, Master Kroop. Did some good fortune come to you?"
Kroop grins. "Jesh... feelsh goo' t'be off th'Wormwood 'shall. Like we're makin' a new shtar'."
Keeping my voice to a whisper, so as not to intrude in the other whispered conversations around us, I add my ante to the conversation. "I have very little doubt that they mean us well, though they can't risk putting us all out at once until we get closer to port. The crew's already stretched thin. Watches and watching backs, gentlemen."
"I have very little doubt that they mean us [harm], though they can't risk putting us all out at once until we get closer to port. The crew's already stretched thin. Watches and watching backs, gentlemen."
The ship's bell rings at the usual time, and you receive the same assignments as the day previous. Not long after you head to your appointed tasks, however, Sandara and Barefoot Samms take a moment to catch Evril and Artevious respectively, and each tells the same tale: last night, when they went to their berths in the fore cabin, they found that none of the other sailors were there. Later eavesdropping when they did finally return - sometime after midnight - revealed that all of the other sailors had apparently been at a meeting of some sort held in the captain's cabin, currently occupied by Mr. Plugg.
Going about his tasks, Chum visits with Sandara as he works . In a low voice, he asks, "Lady, do you know why we've changed heading? We should still be going northwest, as we were at dusk, but we are going northeast toward Garund."
My first night aboard the Man's Promise was quite unremarkable, and in the morning on the next day I was again given the task of upper rigging line work. I accepted the task mutely, since I had quickly learned aboard the Wormwood that cheer and exuberance impressed Mr. Plugg not in the slightest.
As Samms helped ensure that I reached the top rigging safely, she informed me of something quite peculiar: a clandestine meeting by Plugg, Scourge and a number of other sailors late last night. What's more, it became painfully obvious that our heading had changed. My most recent attempts to pay more attention to our headings and course had started to pay off. I was quite certain that the route we were taking would not bring us to Port Peril, and instead somewhere off the coast of Garund.
I took my time and care to ensure my tasks were completed in the rigging, though I did spare a bit of time for musing. Why would Plugg disobey his orders to return to Port Peril? It seemed like a question I should best put to the others when I got the chance.
Sandara frowns in response to Chum's question. "I... don't know for sure," she says at last, "but let me tell you what I told Evril just a bit ago..." She repeats her tale of the previous night's meeting. "I can't help wondering if there's a link between the two somewhere," she adds finally.
"I'm not the suspicious sort, but I'm sure that Eleuterio would tell you they are. Can you let him know of these developments without drawing their ire? They keep too close an eye on us, I fear."
Eleuterio notes something's amiss as he leaves his bunk to go out on deck in the morning. It takes him a few moments, then it hits him. "The sun," he says to himself. "The shadows are all wrong. We've changed course." Impotent to do anything with this epiphany, he heads belowdecks and heads to work with Fishguts. "Master Kroop, if I might bend your ear," he says, tying on his apron again. "Have you noticed we're no longer heading towards Port Peril? I'm not especially familiar with these waters - what lies to the northeast?"
"Wha..?" Fishguts blinks, surprised. "We're na' goin' t'Por' Peril? Buh... Wai', wher' didja shay we're goin'? Nor'eas'?" He frowns, then his eyes widen. "Nah... even Plugg wouldn'... not 'gainsh th'cap'n... buh..." He looks at Eleuterio again. "Thersh a playsh call' 'Ricketysh Shquibsh' on th'Shlitherin' Coash. 'Bout a daysh shail nor've Bloodcove. Rickety dosh f'r shquibs, y'shee - if y'take a ship and y'don' wan' her linsh t'match, n'caysh y'meet th'prevyush owner, y'get'er shquibbed. Diff'rnt bow, exshten' th'decksh, tha' shorta thing. Buh if Pluggsh takin' ush ther'... He mush na' mean t'shtay wi' th'cap'n! Ish a mutiny, it ish!"
... all of the other sailors had apparently been at a meeting of some sort held in the captain's cabin, currently occupied by Mr. Plugg.
Crawling around in the bilge after dropping the pump handle for the third time this morning, I look warily up at the opening hatch, expecting trouble. Instead, the flame-haired Besmaran ducks below deck and motions me over. That's trouble of a different sort...
"Forgive the mess, my lady," I offer with a somewhat soggy bow. "Since Plugg aims to make this my new home, I figured I would give the place a thorough scrubbing before moving my hammock down here. Give me two, maybe three more ... months... , and I'll have the beams shining like polished silver."
Upon hearing Sandara's news, however, my spirits once again darken.
"Thank you for coming to me with this, Master Quinn. I will let the others know when I see them next, though we should prepare ourselves for some sort of dark dealings. I know your Lady may see no issues with the way these bastards work, but I would hate for that to result in you - or any of us - coming to harm. Keep me posted if anything else turns up, yeh?"
My mind keeps turning over Sandara's words, and I am unable to make up for time lost to digging out pump handles. Sighing, I steel myself for a turn at the mast later this evening.
Evril does indeed receive his lashes before the post, and Plugg takes the opportunity to deliver the punishment personally. In a move that surprises many among the crew (although almost as many of those who are caught off-guard by the move seem pleased by it as are upset), Plugg does not use the standard whip, but chooses instead to apply the cat.
When Evril's untied, Chum helps the staggered Andoran away from the mast, concentrating on his burden and the deck as they move.
Though we were no longer serving underneath Captain Harrigan's flag, Mr. Plugg seemed to embrace the worst of that villain's practices. My eyes widened in shock as the bald man used a cat o' nine tails to punish Evril for his lapse in duty. My ire rose, and I surprised myself by feeling the smooth grip of my pistol beneath my palm. The only thing that stayed my hand at that point was a curious notion that Mister Cooper would not want to spend the resulting fracas tied to the mast. Surely he would wish to be a part of said rash action.
Chum carried the flayed man below decks for healing, and I pondered my reaction. I could scarcely believe that I was considering taking up arms against those appointed to be officers of this ship. I wondered if others had similar thoughts. I was in for an uneasy night's sleep.
I couldn't believe I actually craved the rum ration.
"Evril, man, do you need me to heal you? Or are you holding out for soft hands' ministrations?"
"Evril, man, do you need me to heal you? Or are you holding out for soft hands' ministrations?"
I start to laugh at Chum's suggestion before the searing pain across mu shoulders and back asserts itself in a strained "Heh *hsssss*
"I don't know that the Pirate Queen and I are on speaking terms at the moment, Master Seaborn, regardless of how much I'd like the 'ministrations' of Her priestess. Give me a moment to bandage myself up a bit, and then we'll see if the Lord of Storms has an opinion of the matter, yeah?"
Reaching over my right shoulder, I run my fingers over the bruised and sundered skin, then do the same on the left, while muttering "relinquere cicatrices" under my breath.
Most of the open wounds close themselves, leaving a patchwork of scars and bruises behind.
Solemnly, Chum says, "The Wind and the Waves cares not if you are a good pirate or a bad pirate or a pirate at all. He will respond to my request if I ask."
...He will respond to my request if I ask."
"Oh, to have the gods so readily heed my call... Very well, ask the Wind and Waves for a boon on my behalf, brother. Perhaps it will help me survive long enough to see the Sand and Shore once again."
"It is a boon. And a responsibility. My destiny is out here on the waves, I can feel it in the air. I must use my gifts, however, to reach it. You are doing me a favor."
Despite Evril's gloomy pronouncement with regard to Besmara, it is at this point that Her servant appears, storming down the ladder to the crew berths with a fury that would make the Eye of Abendego proud. "That wretched, cruel, tyrannical, vile..." Sandara snarls, already reaching for her holy symbol as she spots Evril. She pulls up short, though, when she realizes that almost all his wounds have already been healed. "Oh," she says, clearly caught off-guard, then shakes her head and stomps forward once again. "We need to do something," she says, turning Evril around to study his back and the magically-closed injuries (without pausing to ask him for permission), "and we need to do it soon. I only have a few minutes before dinner, and then I'll be expected to be back upstairs in the fore cabin, so let me just say this now: whatever you guys decide to do, you'll have my spells and my blade alongside you." She spins Evril back around again, nodding once in seeming satisfaction, before giving him a firm kiss on the lips and marching back upstairs, still radiating anger like heat from a glowing forge.
In her wake, a few of the other sailors you've made friends with poke their heads below as well, and something rather like a meeting begins to take shape in the hold.
Eyebrows raised, watches the cleric storm in, set Evril back on his heels, and storm out. "What do you think... Oh! Hello!" Unable to hide his surprise, Chum steps back to let the newcomers into the hold.
She spins Evril back around again, nodding once in seeming satisfaction, before giving him a firm kiss on the lips and marching back upstairs, still radiating anger like heat from a glowing forge.
A befuddled grin spreads across my face and I raise an eyebrow at Chum in unspoken comment.
Ministrations, indeed.
Eleuterio is late getting back from the galley - there was quite a lot to do, and only part of it was cooking. He was descending into the hold when he saw Sandara climbing the stairs, her face as scarlet as her tresses. He recognized a lit powder keg when he saw one, and wisely let the pirate priestess pass. He saw the impromptu gathering around the three other members of the pressganging that brought him aboard the Wormwood, and noted Cooper's demeanor. "Either you've gone as daft as Poisson, and have started enjoying your time at the mast, or I'm missing something."
As he sees the group gathered, he squares his jaw, and begins to speak, saying words he had hoped to say for uncountable days. "I don't know how many of you noticed, but sometime over the night, Plugg has decided to alter the Man's Promise's course. We're not heading to Port Peril any longer. We now sail towards the Slithering Coast - most presumably to Rickety Squibs, so Plugg can have a ship of his own. Plugg has made his decision - he aims to worm his way free from underneath Harrigan's thumb, and assume captaincy of his own ship. We find ourselves in a rare situation, my friends. We are not speaking of mutiny. No, not us. The mutiny has already begun."
Eleuterio allows that to sink in for a moment before he continues. "All that remains now is the choosing of sides. And, truly, there can only be one answer. Do we side with Plugg, the man who has cut the rum rations, set aside all forms of entertainment, and set himself up as the Tyrant of the Man's Promise? Or do we make our stand here, and depose the Tyrant, and forge our own destinies? I cannot speak for anyone here, but my back has tasted the lash once too many times, and I will not allow this man's evil to fester in these waters any longer. What say you all?" He looks to his friends to aid him in this, his eyes immediately glancing to Master Cooper. Surely the Andoran can help rouse these folk into throwing off the yoke of servitude!
Quietly, "You know where I stand."
Eleuterio's words cut me to the quick. I had kept my own counsel about the puzzling happenstances aboard the Man's Promise this whole time, all the while my comrades were also gathering the information and sussing them out in a most clever fashion. Mr. Reis's speech was inspiring. Truly, we had our allies together here aboard this vessel, ready to chart our own destiny.
I felt a sudden swell of purpose. Again, destiny's hand was upon me, and I knew that my great fate as a pirate was at hand. At Eleuterio's call, I stood up proudly, stating, I say jolly --
--And I promptly smacked my head upon the low ceiling. That hurt.
"What say you all?" He looks to his friends to aid him in this, his eyes immediately glancing to Master Cooper.
It takes a moment for the realization that all eyes were on me to sink in, but the quiet series of chuckles that followed Artevious' overly-enthusiastic attempt to stand shook me from my Besmara-induced stupor.
"Master Reis is right. The longer we wait, the closer we get to letting our freedom slip away. I don't know many of you as well as I'd like, but I know you were all born free men and women, and you deserve better than to be bound in fear by a madman and his bullying cohorts
Walking behind Chum, I place a hand on his shoulder, while making eye contact with several members of the crew, especially Owlbear. "Some of us are gentle souls, doing harm to no one unless forced, and have taken the abuse of Plugg and his cronies with a bowed head and bloodied nose. Others have joined in the revelry, expecting the adventure and reward heralded in the pirates' tales, and instead had the dreams of buried treasure dashed from our minds with the crack of Scourge's whip. Or possibly a ceiling that was a bit lower than expected," I add, helping the flamboyant de Poisson to his feet.
Most of us, though. Most of us were simply in the wrong pub at the wrong time. Whatever the circumstances of your arrival on the Wormwood, you have toiled under the threat of the lash long enough. We have been given this chance to reclaim our freedom, but we mush seize it. We must set aside gentleness in the face of evil. We must see through the illusions of Fame and Glory, and seek out Justice. We must cast off the shackles of our Fear and reclaim our destinies from the feet of cruel Chance." I pause a moment to let my words sink in, and to gauge the crew's reaction.
There are nods and low but determined murmurs from all around the room. Owlbear looks confused, but he smiles broadly when Evril makes eye contact; Rosie strokes the head of one of her axes, eyes narrowed; Fishguts, as always holding a saucepan, hefts the cold iron pot as though it were a warhammer; Jack Scrimshaw swallows nervously, but takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders before nodding once fiercely. All around, agreement - it is clear that your friends are willing and eager to stand with you.
"Well now," Crimson Cogward says musingly. "We know what we're gonna do. Now the question is when."
"Not to mention how," Conchobhar adds. "I'm more than happy to display my thrilling talents on the field of battle once more, but not if we've no plan in place. This fine face is far too charming to decorate the end of Plugg's cutlass."
Chum nods and quietly says, "We cannot hope to wash them from the deck like a hurricane. We must use what advantages we have - perhaps surprise. Having Fishguts on our side is certainly a strength. Anyone would be hard-pressed to fight if they cannot keep their supper down, eh? We've seen them in action - what are their strengths? What are their weaknesses?"
"I'm no tactician. But I can do something similar - and smaller - to what Longfarthing did when we took this ship. With me swabbing decks, it would be easy to hide one end of the ship from the other, if that would help." He looks around for other ideas.
I felt a sudden swell of purpose. Again, destiny's hand was upon me, and I knew that my great fate as a mighty pirate was at hand..
I felt a sudden swell of purpose. Again, destiny's hand was upon me, and I knew that my great fate as a mighty pirate was at hand..
Ahh, indeed, that's what was missing.