Quillin casts a quick cantrip on himself to appear orange tinted with purple spots before he enters the galley. "Good to see you're up and at 'em this morning, Mr.'Guts. I don't feel so well."
Smudge cheerily squawks, "Poor Baby!"
Quillin sighs and makes sure he's got Grok's attention before continuing, "Ya see, it's that book I lost. It's magical and cursed. The magic spreads to whomever is close to it and then strange things occur. I have to keep it close now or I'll sicken away. I'm afraid it might go worse for whoever happened to find the troublesome thing. Wish I could get it back if only to spare the poor soul from such calamity."
Hassan looks over the motley assortment of onlookers for a moment, then shrugs. A man must make the best of the situation that is, not that which he would like himself to be in.
"I am not your friend, alas, but I think that I would like to be. I find myself, like many aboard this vessel I think, wanting very much and having very little. I thank the ten thousand gods of heaven that I still count my life among my meager possessions. But if I am to prosper in this new situation I find myself in, I will need more than sweet words. I will need... allies.
"But I am sensing that, like all things in this world, friendship is not free. So I am offering an exchange. I will use my gifts to help you, and in return you will help me with my problem."
Hassan pulls the sequestered biscuit from its hiding place. He places it in his open palm, and holds it up for all to see. "I am thinking that a... distinctive jewel of a woman such as yourself is more interested in the savory than the sweet." He waves his other hand above the biscuit, tracing an arcane gesture in the air. "Sim Sim Salabim!"
He breaks the biscuit in half, and holds one half out to Grok while stuffing the other in his mouth. The flavor of stale bread has been replaced with that of fine beef, roasted in garlic and butter. "This small thing I can do, and other fine tricks as well... for a price."
Ajani doesn't respond to Plugg's orders in any verbal way; he merely turns on his heels and heads directly for the mainsail, intending to keep his interaction with the man as limited as he possibly could. There was no way he could defy him, for certain, that didn't mean he had to grovel at the evil man's feet, either. He set about his duties, channeling his frustrations into his work.
Ajani finishes the mainsail work with expert skill, taking a step back to admire his work upon completion. The sail looked to be in even better condition than when he'd first began, and he was personally none the worse for wear.
When the morning's work was finished, he returned to Grok to try and further befriend the half-orc woman and trying to learn how it is she first came to be the quartermaster for the Wormwood.
Finding Grok to be even more amiable to his company than the previous day, Ajani asks her if she has perhaps seen a beautiful seashell that was in his possession before being brought aboard the ship. As the shell was the last gift he received from his mother and father before he left home to head to Port Peril, it's very dear to him and he would like to get it back. He describes the shell's physical appearance in great detail to her; it's clear to her that the shell, simple though it may be, means a lot to the Vanara.
Con Check
Acrobatics
Mel actually quite enjoys the day as she scrambles through the ship..She makes sure that she passes the Quartermasters Stores frequently stopping to converse briefly with the Half Orc Woman whenever she can find time.
Diplomacy as Influence on Grok
She takes time to point out that Grok seems overworked and that perhaps a QuarterMasters Mate is what is needed.
Quillin watches the steady stream of Grok's 'suitors' with amusement. As he goes about his kitchen chores, he jokes with Fishguts and Grok about each visitors potential as a lover.
Hassan:"oooh, watch out for that one, Grok. Qadirans are known for their nimble fingers. Might steal your heart that one. or at least your maiden-hatch."
Arjani: "Ha, the monkey boy's got love in his eyes. I don't know Grok, that tail looks fun and all that fur to keep you warm at night. I think he's a keeper."
Mel: "Oh really, boy? You're out of your league there. Grok'll snap your toothpick!"
Smudge repeats key words for emphasis and cackles appreciatively throughout the exchanges.
As the day wears on, Fjori's wounds, being bathed in the filth of the bilge, begin to redden and swell. After a few hours the nord sailor is feeling ill, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body as the poisons slowly infect his still raw wounds.
Grok seems caught off guard by Quillin's theatrics and quickly roots around and turns over the book the gnome is looking for. Writing's no good on the waves anyway, get the cursed thing away from my stock.
The kitchen does indeed become a parade of cordial calls to Grok who seems somewhat amused at the wave of newcomers courting her favor. T
To Hassan she seems dutifully impressed but laments that unless he can turn a biscuit into a stiff Andoran malt or a Chelaxian red her sense of "taste" is fairly worthless. All the same she seems willing to consider bartering with the man and offers that he returns later on in the day when the evening meal is on to look over the wares and talk trade.
To Ajani Grok is able to turn over the seashell in short order noting that normally she would charge a gold or two for such a nice object, You get yer first share maybe you push a coin or two my way or let me take on something fancy for a good price.
Mel's frequent stops as she busies herself about the ship seem to amuse the half-orc and Grok offers to Mel the same opportunity as to Hassan that when things are quieter and work is less of an issue the human lad can come and look over what the shop has to offer.
Quillin's jest prove to be almost too much for Grok from time to time as the half-orc's raspy laugh provides a grating undertone to Kroop's own booming blubbery laugh as they work through the day. A chance inspection by Plugg leads to a fit of giggles as the mate leaves with Grok going on that maybe she should try each of the male callers out in her bunk taking the opportunity to lob an obvious foul mouthed joke about Quillin's lack of consideration due to "size".
Things are bleaker in the bilges as the brackish water mixed with human waste (as the bilges are often used in such a way at night) puts a poor toll on Fjori and all the abuse he has weathered in the last day or so. Quinn looks the man over and notes that though his cut his hot the infection is more than likely exhaustion at this point. Nonetheless she once more offers her healing aid and lays he hand on Fjori's arm to heal the wound and wash away his fatigue. The woman considers Fjori a moment and then moves back to the pumps to work, So you know the others well? The ones you came on with? Plugg and Scourge seem to content to lump you all in a group but you don't seem friends...
A flicker of disappointment passes across Hassan's face when his magic trick is not as well received as he had hoped, but it vanishes behind a smile almost instantly. "Andoran beer I do not know, but the flavor of Chelaxian wines I am most intimate with. This I could do for you, although I would need use watered rum for the kick. All I ask is for your... discretion in this matter. If my talents become well known aboard ship, I will be pressed to use them for that unscrupulous dog of a bo'sun and there will be none left to share with my friends. I will return at dusk and we may discuss our transaction, and more perhaps."
Hassen bows deeply. "A thousand blessings and one upon your head." He then turns to leave. "And my apologies to you, master gnome, for interrupting your work. You may return now to offering our fine chef your sweet words and gentle caresses. I know it must take you some time to work him up enough that you might extract the sauce for the soup."
On that word Hassan returns to his duty, brushing past Ajani as the young Vanara approaches for his own inroads with the quartermaster.
Ajani smiles broadly at seeing the shell, eagerly accepting it from Grok when she offers it to him. "You have my eternal thanks, Quartermaster. I will be certain to return the favor at the earliest opportunity." he answers, then stops short and looks to Quillin, cocking his head to one side as he stared at the gnome. "You have come into a very curious complexion. Have you caught some strange Shackles illness?" he asks curiously.
"My lady, I know none of them. I was taken when my drink was poisoned. The first time that I had ever laid eyes on them was yesterday morning. What of you? How long have you been aboard this vessel? And why do you stay?Any captain that leaves his boatswain that free with the cat, well he is not someone I wish to sail with."
"O-ho!" Quillin chortles as the Qadiran retreats. "Did you hear that, Fishguts? Our swarthy little friend knows how to flavor hardtack and the secret to your sauces. I'm sorry you ended up with me as cook's assistant instead."
"You have come into a very curious complexion. Have you caught some strange Shackles illness?"
"Bookworm bit me," Quillin quips. "Thank you for your concern. It should clear momentarily and might I say that you got off lightly. I'm surprised Grok didn't press a harder bargain. What's the matter Grok? Are you really going to pass on some wild monkey love? Literally actually."
Bart goes about his assigned work dutifully. He gives Plugg a glare, but otherwise just goes about his business.
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Bart makes his way around the rigging, but apparently he drank more than he thought last night. His fingers slip around and his head swims as he attempts to work. As he works, he try's to make conversation with his partner.
"So, Conchshell, new to the piracy business?"
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Mel ignores Quillan's crude comments and nods at Groks invitation.."Aye, Ma'am..I'll do that" she says "Mind you t'would be a mighty great pity if the blades curse fell upon anyone who might want to use it"
Bluff
It's Shortstone you lummox and apparently I'm not as new as you
Despite his best efforts Bart finds the foppish gnome to be rude and overly demeaning doing little to aid Bart as he slightly struggles to accomplish his rigging tasks himself. Others in the ropes seem to be indifferent to the Chelaxian save for those who tussled with the group this morning. Plugg offers more than a few overly critical observations of what Bart "lacks" as a sailor but no actual punishment is served to Bart other than the gnome's rudeness.
Grok seems to blanch at the word "curse" having already seemingly dealt with one such object earlier in the morning. Shooing Mel away and mumbling about trade time after meal Grok's love of the limelight this morning slips slightly to sullen drinking in the afternoon with that half orc lamenting simpler times when half her store wasn't haunted junk.
Quinn chuckles at Fjori's questions. Clerics of the Pirate Queen are not immune to press gang. She love's the life for all its flaws and so too must we who worship her. I've only been on a few days more than you. Just enough to attract the attention of Scourge and to threaten to melt off what he claims is a cock if it so much as comes close to my person....as to the Captain...well Harrigan has a reputation. Up and comer as they say. He is a man worth being close to if you seek glory and riches and have no ship of your own.
Quinn takes on a thoughtful look as she relays this information to Fjori, Plugg and the bosun are another matter. No proper virgins or squires in the Shackles life but those two seem of a dark sort. Mates and bosun's come and go. My guess? Harrigan has need now for their type to break a proper crew and Plugg is so far up the capn's ass that Harrigan might not see what Scourge and him are like. Except for last night, which was interesting to see Harrigan so agitated. Pirate politics can be slow politics though. I think the captain's not an issue but it will take time to get the Mate and his dog out of the way. And I don't mean killin. That happens to someone like Plugg, Harrigan is sure to throw most of us overboard and break a new crew than suffer a mutiny or a murderer on board.
Stealth
Mel's Rum ration once again finds it's way into the ocean.
She seeks out Cogswill that evening hoping to further improve his attitude
with a tale of piratical skullduggery but cannot recall any that would appeal to the man....
Knowledge Local
Still she tries to maintain friendly overtures
Diplomacy as influence
She moves amongst her new shipmates letting each know in turn that it might be an idea if they had a quiet word together.
"They think off us as mates..we might as well be mates and help each other out." is her general point.She also includes Sandara Quinn in the group the woman seems to know her way around after all and a cleric is always handy to have around if they aren't too stuffy
As the day ends, Fjori emerges from the bilge and works his way topside. A few pails of seawater remove most of the stink, but the smell will most likely linger for days. He gets in line for the evening meal and, once again, sits away from the others, slowly dribbling his rum ration into the sea. He keeps his eyes on those who attempted to delay them this morning, smiling grimly if any look his way. While he no longer needs the scrap of cloth on his arm to cover the knife wound, he leaves it there as a badge, and warning to those who might think him an easy mark.
He spends his time watch the crew, picking out those who were take with him. He notices that they do not really acknowledge each other, rather acting on their own. Perhaps, if they are seen as a 'group' by Plugg and Scourge they should team up. They worked well in the fight that morning, perhaps he should approch they with the idea.
Quillin passes his hand over his cup with an arcane phrase in what he explains is an Azlanti toast and then downs the grog.
Afterwards, the gnome in the lavender coat cautiously approaches the big northerner and his hand moves toward his blue and black dreaded head before he realizes he has no hat to remove. He continues forward with a sheepish grin on his face until he catches a whiff of bilge.
Grimacing, he exclaims, ”Fer Cailean’s Sake, what did they have you doing today? Um, I just wanted to say that I picked up Fipps’ knife this morning. Seeing as your blood is on it, I figured you have the best claim. I think I’m in pretty good with the Quartermaster as well if there’s anything you might be needing.”
Bart sits down after getting his ration for the evening. He swirls the liquid around in his cup before diggin in. All this aint so bad, I guess. Plugg's a bilge-sucker, and that gnome's askin' fer a long fall off the rigging, but not too bad all together. Might as well enjoy the comp'ny. Bart drains his rum and begins to make friends with the various other scallywags who happen to be sitting near him throughout the night.
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Despite the drink, nobody seems to warm to the mildy intoxicated Chelaxian's banter.
Hassan gets in line with the others for the evening meal, which he wolfs down quickly and quietly, pretending to sip from his mug of rum from time to time.
As soon as he sees Grok head back below deck, Hassan hurries after her, mug of rum in hand.
Ajani lines up with the rest of the crew for the evening slop, partaking of it slowly and thoughtfully. Nonchalantly, he walks over to the edge of the ship and appears to slug back the rum in one go, grimacing severely as the grog flies through the air just over his shoulder and into the water.
No one else any the wiser, he makes his way over to Mel, realizing that he is the only person he's really had any kind of conversation longer than a sentence or two since they woke up a couple days ago.
"Good evening, lad." he begins with a slight grin. "Tell me...have you grown accustomed to my appearance yet? Or does the sight of me still cause a shock?"
Fjori looks up at the gnome and smiles. "You keep it, my friend. I would not wish to do something rash with a blade!" He laughs softly at his own joke, and then gestures to a space near him. "Sit, if you can stand the smell. The bilge was my punishment today, and it almost did me in, I am not ashamed to say. If not for Quinn, I might not have been coming out under my own power. How was your day?? Still working in the galley? The food certainly tastes better."
Quillin climbs to a seat near Fjori which sends Smudge squawking skyward for fresher air, ”What a Stinker! Bloody Bones!”
The gnome retorts, ”You ain’t exactly a daisy either, Guano Brains!”
Once things have settled, Quillin continues, "Fishguts was sober enough to cook today. I must say I think I did a better job though. Hmmm, Quinn’s the pretty one, yes? That’s the thing about being in the galley, I don’t see much of the rest of the crew. Most of the newbies we landed with came down today to visit Grok, the quartermaster though: the sneaky Qadiran, I peg him for a thief though he seems to know some minor magic; the monkey wanted to buy a shell, simpleton I’d say; and the cabin boy.” Quillin squints at the boy, "I don't trust that one either, went crying for Scourge at the first sign of trouble."
Quillin glances over at the drunk Chelaxian, ”What do you think about him? He held his own this morning.”
"He is trained as a warrior, that is for sure, and can hold his own in a scrap. The Quadiran was the one who loosened my bonds while I was ties to the mast. He has some magic, for sure. As to the others, I have not really given them much thought until recently. It would seem, because we stood together against those malcontents this morning that we are now considered a 'team'. Not too sure how I feel about that!"
Quillin purses his lips and then nods, "The Qadiran is crafty. I'll grant you that. Not so sure about the chimp and the kid, but I guess we ought to take what we can get. My name is Quillin by the way and if you like I can help you out with the bilge stench before lights out."
Fjori smiles and holds out his hand to the gnome. "A good meeting Quillion. I am Fjori and any help to remove this stink would be greatly appreciated!" He looks over to the Chelaxian and, when he catches his eye, waves him over. He does the same to the young lad and the Vanara as well. He looks for the Qadiran as well, but is unable to locate him on deck. "I guess we should get out 'gang' together and introduce ourselves." Fjori says to the gnome.
Bart, getting the sense that he is not welcomed amongst his current company looks over to see the big Ulfen waving to him. Bart takes one last bite of his meal and half walks, half stumbles his way over to where he is sitting. He almost sits on Quillin, and once he sees the gnome his blood begins to boil. Then he realizes it is not Conchshell and calms down and sits with the pair.
"Whacha wan'?"
No one else any the wiser, he makes his way over to Mel, realizing that he is the only person he's really had any kind of conversation longer than a sentence or two since they woke up a couple days ago.
"Good evening, lad." he begins with a slight grin. "Tell me...have you grown accustomed to my appearance yet? Or does the sight of me still cause a shock?"
Mel has the grace to blush.."Sorry about that..Ajani..right..I've just never seen anyone like you, and it's Mel..that's short for Melvaun..I'm from Riddleport if you have ever heard off it"
She spots Fjori's gesture.."Looks like someone else wants to talk." she mutters.."Shall we join them?"
Ajani waves his hand dismissively. "Riddleport...I seem to recall hearing the city mentioned a time or two in Senghor, but that is the extent of my knowledge of the settlement. And yes, Ajani is correct. Do not worry yourself over my jest, young human. I meant it as only that and nothing more." he answers, catching Fjori's hand-wave at the same time as his blonde companion.
"Given the assault from this morning, it seems that those aboard ship who wish to be our enemies regard us as a team already, even if that is only by virtue of being press-ganged at the same time. And if they desire us to be a team, who are we to deny them?" he answers.
With that, he gets to his feet, waiting to see if Mel wishes to join him before making his way over to the others.
Mel follows closely behind "I was thinking the same thing..there is safety and strength in numbers and I have been noting those who might be useful allies..that Quinn woman..Cogswell who I may have persuaded to our side and possibly that halfling woman though I have not spoken to her yet...there may be others"
Fjori greets all three of the new arrivals with an offering of his hand. Once all have settled he begins to speak. "Welcome and thank you for coming over. I know some of you may wish to distance yourselves from me as a possible troublemaker. If this is so, then you will probably wish to leave now, and with no hard feelings from me." He waits a few moments for anyone who wishes to leave to do so, then goes on. "It would seem that we have a problem here onboard ship...well actually two. Plugg and Scourge. I have been told that any physical harm to either of them could cause the captain to dump us all overboard and start looking for a new crew. I believe you all know Quinn? While she has only been onboard for a little longer than us, she seems to have connections within the crew, and for whatever reason, is willing to help us. I feel that if we stick together, be seen together like we are now, then Plugg, Scourge and their lackeys will think twice about confronting us. At least until we can find a way of replacing them, for I do not think we will ever win their loyalty. What say you all to this? Do we band together or go our separate ways?”
Mel nods.."Aye I was saying to Ajani that there is more strength and safety in numbers. Have any off you managed to befriend any off the other crew I know a lot off us have been working on Grok and I think I might just be able to get our gear with a little cash to grease her palm."
"We have t' be wary mind, too many in our little band and Scourge or Plugg might think we was planning a Mutiny"
Hassan enters the Quartermaster's cabin, and bows with a flourish—nonchalantly closing the door behind him with his foot as he does so. "Glorious jewel of the sea, I have returned to complete our bargaining. I believe that I have the ingredients for that which you desire."
He places the mug of rum on the counter, and places his finger to his lips, for silence. He begins rubbing his hands together in front of his face, while muttering an incantation. He then cups his hands and inch above the rim of the mug, while continuing to chant. A stream of cool, clear water begins to pour from his outstretched hands, filling the mug to its brim.
Hassan grins, and does another little flourish with his hands. "Sim Sim Salabim!". He gives the mug an experimental sniff, and looks at Grok with a glimmer in his eye. "A Longacre Red. '97, if I am not mistaken. He offers the mug to the burly woman.
"Agreed. I can assure you, from personal experience, that Plugg will never be our ally. He is vile. As the young lad said, there is strength in numbers, and if that rabble this morning views as a group, who are we to disappoint? I am called Ajani. In your Common tongue, the meaning is 'He who wins the struggle'. It is my honor to be meeting you all. You mention Quinn as an ally. As Mel mentioned, I believe our Quartermaster, Grok, is likely to be...more sympathetic to our cause."
In the kithcen/quartermaster's shop the smell of rum is prolific as Grok and Kroops get on with their nightly rituals. Both seem to be chatting about completely separate things but having fun nonetheless.
At Hassan's verbose entry the half-orc stairs at Hassan not unlike Scourge looks at the man, though with far less malice but more simple bewilderment. She follows the point though and takes to the alcohol presented. She makes a strange face and shakes her head slightly. The taste is different enough but the bite's the same. Can't magic away what an alcohol "feels" like I wager. Still, good try. Mebbe when I'm more sober I'll be more impressed. So. Here we are. What do you want? Grok makes a wide wave at a cramped room filled to the gills with all manner of trinkets, chests, gear, boxes, junk and what not. There seem to be no organizational method employed save Grok's memory and ability to notice things.
"Sadly, not with the poor tricks it is my humble honor to have with me today. But now that we are such excellent and great friends, I consider it my duty to find a way of bringing a smile to your face, magic or otherwise.
"For now, however, I must ask for a particular thing to settle another obligation. A fiddle, baring the name 'Rosie', which I understand to be in your possession."
Quillin nods at Fjori's proposal although he looks less than enthusiastic about binding his fate with the rest. "That'll do. Let's not look too tight though lest they get abit paranoid. It might be a good idea to see where the rest of the crew stands as well. Maybe I'll work on the small folk. We're more likely to see eye-to-eye."
Quillin takes a look around and noting only one other gnome besides the foppish rigger, heads over to the bedraggled female with er, one-eye.
diplomacy
The gnome looks Quillin up and down turning from nursing a mug of rum and seemingly engrossed in a crew game of "Hurl". Clicking her tongue lightly the gnome responds in Common, Long enough. Why?
Quillin shrugs back switching to the common human tongue, "As I said, I'm rather new to the whole pirating thing. You look like you've had a bit more experience. I was just curious how you've managed to survive what with Scourge's lash and other assorted job hazards."