"Well, well, look who's finally decided to show up," comes a cruel voice you know to be Scourge's without looking. Sure enough, his crooked gold-toothed grin eyes you up and down with a hint of mischief. "Ye be late again, ye sorry excuse for pirates. It'll be lashes for you all at the Bloody Hour this evenin'! Now get ta work!"
With that, he starts handing out the day's tasks.
high = sober, low = inebriated
Harmony is assigned to haul and knot rope on the second day. Despite her polished and well manicured looks, she proves to be quite adept at the assignment, producing expertly knotted ropes that look like she genuinely knows what she's doing, and drops them off with heavy thuds wherever required. Despite the high quality of her work, or perhaps because of it, it takes a lot out of her, and she is just as exhausted at the end of the second day as she was at the end of the first.
When Scourge mentioned lashing Esmarelda almost began crying again, but she kept her head. Their job wasn't to beat us up! It was to make us late... or maybe both! She thought as she glared over at the group who had cornered them below deck, her eyes where still red from crying. When Scourge handed out their tasks for the day, Esmarelda relaxed for a second. While catching rats was not the best work, she was sure she could do it a lot easier than the bilges. She gave Scourge a respectful nod, so not to get in more trouble, as she said "As you wish Master Scrouge." Her tone wasn't sarcastic, or hateful, just flat.
She went down below deck and started her task, it really helped her take her mind off of what had happened that day, and she was rather good at it! By the time she was done she was sure she caught every rodent aboard this ship. "This isn't so bad." She said a loud, mostly to herself, as she ran her sleeve over her forehead to get the sweat before it fell into her eyes.
Gall lifts a hand to wipe his mouth after spitting a bit of blood onto the deck during the line up. Cooking, as usual. What a glamorous life I lead. Should've let the younger lass do this work. Bloody morons. He keeps his trap carefully shut, nodding his understanding when given his task. With a quickly murmured, "Y'know where I am if ye need me," he moves off to get going on today's work. Which naturally entails doing all of the cook's job because he is too drunk to function. While not the most accomplished of cooks, the half-giant does know his way around a kitchen. Dinner is prepared with relative ease, giving him plenty of time to poke around the galley undisturbed in search of anything useful again.
Cueta grinds her teeth at the mention of lashes, but being already beat and a little woozy, says nothing at morning lineup. Still, she can't muster any enthusiasm for bilge work, and after an hour or so starts to get really woozy. Perhaps Gall hit me harder than I first thought.
Throwing her bilge bucket aside, Cueta sits on the ladder. Fook this work, she thinks, her little act of rebellion bringing on a smile. Maybe, just maybe, we'll hit rough water and the bilge'll help sink this damned ship. And that, perhaps, is why Besmara has me here in the first place. To send all these fookers to the bottom of the ocean.
Regardless, no bilge water would be pumped today. Instead, Cueta starts putting together a plan of her own. Harmony was thinking too many steps ahead - someone, maybe all of them, would die before her maneuverings would bear fruit. No, Cueta would need to be proactive. She'd have to start gathering supplies. But first, she'd need a place to hide them.
Standing on her bilge bucket, Cueta starts with the ceiling, and then works her way down the room, looking for any loose boards, dark corners, weak points in the mast, and so on. Taking some sludge, the sailor marks anything that could prove useful. Lastly, Cueta kneels and runs her hands over the floor, all around the bilge, and despite losing her breakfast, covers every submerged inch. The day nearly spent, Cueta stands, spent as well, confident that if there are any, she's found any potential hiding spots or weak points in the ship's construction.
Eventually, the sailor could hear some of the Wormwood's crew moving around above her. Must be dinner time. Or the bloody hour, whichever came first. Joy to me.
I refused to be cowed by Scourge's bluster. He may be shaping up to be the villain in my tale, but I wasn't about to allow him the satisfaction of disrupting my great pirate adventure. "Yessir," I responded with gusto. "Can't be a proper rigger and leave tears in the rigging, no sir."
I deftly climbed up into the rigging to start mending the sails. I set a rapid pace, since I wished to slip over to Grok's to see what it would take to recover my effects.
I had the lines and sails trimmed and mended in a jolly jiff, so when I felt the task was complete I moved quickly to the quartermaster's berth.
"Ahoy and hello! Artevious de Poisson at your service," I introduced myself with a flourish and a bow. "One of the Wormwood's recent recruits, as it were. Quite the twist of fate that brought me here, I must say, for when I set foot in that tavern back at Port Peril, I had every intention of signing on with a pirate crew. I can hardly fault Scourge's overeager attempt to engage my services, but now that I am here as a staunch and stalwart member of the crew, I was wondering what it might take to reacquire my misplaced belongings? I assure you, I've every intention to put them to use in the service of the Wormwood herself. Including, I might add, that collection of books that may have been brought on board. They contain tales of the most thrilling variety, and I would love to share them with the whole crew if they're keen to listen to a rousing story."
The bilges were never a nice place, let alone when you're really looking through them. But Cueta's efforts pay off and you are able to find a plank right at the waterline that pulls free. But it looks like you aren't the only one who has found this spot! Inside, there's a waterlogged pocket watch with an inscription on the inside. It appears to say 'For my little Jakey'. To top it all off, while running your hands along the bottom of the bilge water you turn up a finely made handaxe you suspect might be of masterwork quality.
"Books? Books, books, books..." Cut-Throat Grok, a rather rough and tumble looking half-orc gal, starts rummaging though a few crates kept in the back. "Ya mean these?" she asks, holding up a volume that Artevious easily identifies as one of his mother's. "Don't got many of these kickin' around back here. Cap'n ain't one for readin'. Neither are the rest of the crew if we bein' honest." She promptly set the whole set of the books, except one, out for you. "That'll be a copper each." she says, hand out ready to accept money. "That or your rum rations for the night. I'll take either, truth be told. Actually, lets make it the rum and we'll call it even."
While Fishguts snores on in his quarters, Gall fumbles around the kitchen, looking for this that and the other thing. What you manage to find is a large cookbook filled to the brim with easy to follow recipes, perfect for the pirate of discerning tastes.
It may not be glamorous, but it's a noble job to catch rats. Even Mr. Plugg can't find a thing to complain about your work today.
I clutched my chest in a mock-hurt gesture. In truth, a nip of the grog would be a fine repast after these last two days of pirately pursuits, but turning such over to Grok for my mother's novels was a fine trade.
"Agreed in its entirety, my dear. My cup is yours."
As I collected my mother's novels, I pointed to a familiar-looking blade with a basket-hilt. "I'd like to stake a claim to that cutlass, if I may. If you'd do me the favor of letting me know its price, I shall endeavor to meet it," I said with a wink and a nod.
Proud of her work, and the fact Plugg couldn't find a single rodent when she told him she was done, Esmarelda took the time just after her task to drop by the quartermaster's shop. When she entered she found Artevious, clutching a large amount of books. She smiled softly, she was glad he was able to acquire something so dear to him.
"You got them back I see." She smiled as she met him at his side. "Hope they didn't cost you too much." She said before she looked at the half-orc before them. "I am looking for something as well, it is my kapenia, an embroidered silk cloth with beaded strings that have metal figures of the sea on the ends." She informed her.
Grok takes a moment to hum and haw over the cutlass for a bit. "Fifteen gold be market value for a blade like that. But ya seem like a nice chap. Maybe I can cut ya a deal. Ya came in with that Harmony girl, right? I heard her spinnin' tales at the Formidable Maid while I was drinkin' at the bar. Ya get her to tell one of them stories over dinner one of these nights and I'll see if I can't lose the blade somewhere ya might find it," Grok proposed with a grin. "If there's one thing I can't resist, it be a good tale of adventures on the seas. And a good drink. Preferably both. At the same time."
Cut-Throat Grok gives the girl a look up and down and snorts. "Wee lass, ain't ya? Wish I could help ya, but I ain't got ya fancy piece of fabric no more. You'll have to hit up Rosie Cusswell. She been usin' it as a blanket, last I checked."
It took Esmarelda a few minutes to place the name with a face. "Thank you for telling me." Esmarelda said as she turned and ran out to go find Rosie. It took her a bit to find her on the upper deck of the ship. "Rosie? It's Rosie Cusswell right?" She asked as she walked up to her.
It was quite a fun bit of back-and-forth between myself and Grok. She did seem to be the generous type, despite her outwardly gruff demeanor. I patted the stack of books. "You'll be getting your fair share of both, I'd wager." It appeared that we had an accord, so I bade her my fair adieu, and headed back to my berth in the Wormwood's hold.
It was there I saw Esmarelda, looking much better than in the morning. She inquired about that kapenia thing that I thought Raheem had bought from her somewhat unwillingly. "I did indeed!" I told her, hefting my precious collection. "But I'm afraid I didn't see anything like what you described. I thought that Raheem fellow had it, judging by your exchange yesterday morning. He didn't seem to think it worth much; only a copper. I daresay at such a pittance he should have simply given it back to you."
Esmarelda's face turned a dark red as she sighed at Artevious's words. "He wasn't saying my kapenia was worth a copper... he was saying I was... or well my sexual performance was..." She did her best not to meet his eyes when she spoke.
Well, I certainly had misjudged that; and though it may have been embarrassing for me, it was obviously mortifying for Esmarelda. I certainly wished to do no additional harm to the poor dear's esteem, so I chose my words carefully.
I stepped up and touched her chin, gently coaxing her to look up at me. "Now see here. Doubtless you are a blazing sun compared to Raheem, and he would melt as the softest wax if he had the wits about him to realize your brilliance. Don't let his shortcomings quench your fire."
Okay, I may have paraphrased my father a bit from The Poisson Identity, but I truly meant every word.
Esmarelda felt her cheeks grow warmer as he spoke gently to her. Her eyes locked with his, and she gave him a soft loving smile. "Fancy words Monsieur de Poisson" She said softly, her hand moved up and gently rested on his own hand that held her chin. "Careful or I just may fall for you." She said, before smirking and adding in. "And his name is Maheem, not Raheem."
Lifting his brows in surprise, Gall takes a moment to peruse the book and its contents when he drags it from beneath a bit of rubbish. All manner of pirate recipes at his fingertips; this could come in handy at some point, for certain. Or, judging by the book's size and comprehensiveness, he could try to sell it. It might fetch a gorgeous gold or two, if nothing else. But it could also be an enormous boon to his work that could keep his fat out of the fryer. Both literally and metaphorically. He muses over the idea for a moment or three as he tongues the split lip Cueta gave him, before shaking his head. Better to pitch the idea to the group. He had said it himself: they are in this together.
A wry smirk colors his features as Gall moves to haul tonight's dinner onto the stove. It feels surprisingly good to know that he is among friends, if only partially, on this ship. At the very least, he has some people to commiserate with and misery certainly does love company. Though he is loathe to admit it, he can certainly use the eyes to watch his back, as well. There are more than enough knives hiding on the ship that he needs as many as possible keeping a weather eye out. At the thought of a great many knives, he turns to look over the great many blades arrayed across the wall for use. Fishguts is sleeping rather soundly; it would be so easy to simply take a few.
He casts a glance across to Grok and the pirates that go to and from her shop so frequently. Easy to take, but not to do so unnoticed, he finds himself thinking. Better to find something that no one will miss.
As the day winds on, he nods to Esmarelda and Artevious when they stop into the store. Fishguts finds a blanket over himself whenever he finally awakes from his drunken stupor, thanks to the half-giant's doing. When the sun starts to dip toward the horizon, he pulls the feast of fish marinaded in orange and spices from the flames. Dinner will see a banquet fit for some manner of king, pirate or otherwise, Gall believes. At the very least, he has done his best and believes some amount of pride is due for that. Even if he still would never assign himself to the kitchen.
Not that it will spare his flesh the lash at the Bloody Hour.
Rosie Cusswell shouts a few choice words at a rigger who nearly dropped a rope on her head. None of them which would have been appropriate for any situation. Foulmouthed didn't begin to describe it.
"Depends who's askin'. What the s~++tin' f*%~ do you want?" she replied to Esmarelda, a look of annoyance clearly painted on her face.
"Did that c~$% licker Shortstone send ya? You tell that son of a b%#%! to leave me the f$*! alone or he'll be gettin' a Besmaran bath after I personally keelhaul the bugger!"
Daytime Ship Action: Spread story about the fight, rolls and details in previous post.
Nighttime Ship Action: Sleep to recover from fatigue.
During her rope-hauling day, Harmony makes a point out of interacting, however briefly, with those crew members she's already encountered (but not officers, such as Harrigan, Plugg or Scourge, steering clear of them as much as she can). She exchanges a few words with Barefoot Samms, telling her of a brutal beating belowdecks and it being the reason why she and the others had been late to deck. If passing by any of the would-be assailants on the ship -- Fipps, Jape, Syl or Maheem -- Harmony recoils a little, as if a beaten dog cringing away, and circling well around them, playing up the angle of the defeated. She keeps true to her word, not ruining Esmarelda or Artevious' reputations, but otherwise slipping subtle words here and there on board the ship about the thugs' victory.
Between the story-spreading and the ropework, she's spread pretty thin, and doesn't have meaningful interactions with other crew members today, but she does manage to spare a few words to her fellow pressgangees.
To Esmarelda, Harmony tries to be reassuring and encouraging, "Just try to hang in there. We'll do our best to look out for you. If you slip up with something, just blame it on me if possible, and let me handle the rest, all right?" She doesn't appear to have concerns about being able to handle sudden surprises.
To Cueta, Harmony is more inquisitive, seeming respectful of the woman's apparent strength of body and character. "You seem like the sort of woman who can take care of herself. What's your opinion on this whole situation? What should be our first priority, beyond just surviving day-to-day of course."
When she spots Gall, Harmony asks about what his assignment is like, as the half-giant has been hidden away belowdecks so much of the time. "You're probably the one I see the least. How's the situation down there? Are you doing okay? Any major problems I should know about?"
And finally, with Artevious, Harmony asks more about his family background. "So tell me more about your father. You mentioned he was a pirate. When you were a child, were you exposed to a lot of the pirate lifestyle? Did you spend a lot of time on pirate ships? Or were you left on land and your father was gone most of the time? Have you spent much time on pirate ships before this?"
Cueta smiles when the board pries loose, and says a quick prayer of thanks to the Pirate Queen. Pulling the pocket watch from its hiding place, she reads the inscription and tries to place the name, drawing a blank. Shrugging, Cueta puts the watch back and covers the hiding spot with the board.
Truly, Besmara is watching over Cueta today, for within the hour the sailor's hand brushes what can only be a handle under the water. Pulling a gleaming handaxe from the bilge, Cueta lets out an Ijo war whoop, before looking around hastily, thankful that no one is down in the bilges with her. Using the axe to scratch "For My Little Jakey" high above the waterline, near the ceiling, Cueta then puts the axe into her hiding spot.
What the pocket watch means, Cueta can't imagine. But the handaxe, so obviously a gift from Besmara, confirms Cueta's suspicions. Besmara wants Harrigan and his crew for her treasure chest.
------------
Cueta runs into Harmony as they head above decks. A little smile, lacking any real joy, graces the sailor's face. "First thing is to survive this flogging. I don't think they plan to kill us. What would be the point of going through the press-ganging process to just turn around and have to do it again? Still, I worry that Scourge can get easily carried away. Perhaps your silver tongue can spare us some leniency?"
"At any rate, Besmara put me here for a reason. I believe that reason is to send everyone involved in our press-ganging below the waves. This is what I plan to do - from Harrigan on down to Yellow-bellied Jape. All of them go into the chest."
Then, perhaps I can be free of our bargain, Pirate Queen.
When she spots Gall, Harmony asks about what his assignment is like, as the half-giant has been hidden away belowdecks so much of the time. "You're probably the one I see the least. How's the situation down there? Are you doing okay? Any major problems I should know about?"
Gall offers a friendly smile when Harmony wanders into the galley in the midst of his efforts to whip up a sauce for the fish. He does not bother to lower the large bowl that he is presently stirring furiously. No sense in letting up his efforts just because a friend walks in. He does pause very briefly to gesture with his whisk toward the small pile of oranges in one corner for her benefit. "Ahoy there, lass. Hungry? They're still fresh."
At her question, he shakes his head before jerking his chin toward the large cookbook on the table between them. No sense in hiding it, really. It had just been lying around in the first place. If he had not, someone else would have found it given enough time and effort. "I'm doin' right fine, no need for concern. Actually, I got a question and a request for ye, since yer here. Just found that cookbook there in all this mess. Big as it is, it might be worth something. Think I ought'a sell it or hold onto it to lend me a hand 'round the galley here? Can't say as I'm the best cook this side of the Eye, but I'm holdin' my own down here, as it is," he muses thoughtfully as he sets the whisk aside to add a bit more spice to the sauce.
"Oh, and that request. I reckon the quartermaster's still got a fair bit'o my things, seein' as I've not had a spare minute to chat with her. Ye mind givin' her a go for me? I'm not near to as good with me words as ye seem to be, wouldn't wanna foul things up none, aye?"
To Esmarelda, Harmony tries to be reassuring and encouraging, "Just try to hang in there. We'll do our best to look out for you. If you slip up with something, just blame it on me if possible, and let me handle the rest, all right?" She doesn't appear to have concerns about being able to handle sudden surprises.
Esmarelda gave her a smile and nod. "Thank you Harmony, but I think I will be alright... today's task has taken my mind off of the worst of it. I've done rather well!" She told her, she sounded rather proud of herself and her normal tone had returned. "But thank you for coming by, it's good to know you care." she said.
Esmarelda felt her cheeks grow warmer as he spoke gently to her. Her eyes locked with his, and she gave him a soft loving smile. "Fancy words Monsieur de Poisson" She said softly, her hand moved up and gently rested on his own hand that held her chin. "Careful or I just may fall for you." She said, before smirking and adding in. "And his name is Maheem, not Raheem."
I took in the raven-haired beauty, with her mysterious golden eyes. It's said that pirates often have a lust for gold, but I decided to keep that observation to myself. "I can think of worse fates," I replied with a smile.
==============
And finally, with Artevious, Harmony asks more about his family background. "So tell me more about your father. You mentioned he was a pirate. When you were a child, were you exposed to a lot of the pirate lifestyle? Did you spend a lot of time on pirate ships? Or were you left on land and your father was gone most of the time? Have you spent much time on pirate ships before this?"
After stashing my books in they driest nook I could find, I moved topside where Harmony started inquiring of my origins. She was quite the personable lass, very engaging and had a way of getting folks to open up.
"I daresay you'll hear great things about my father, if his legend hasn't already brought his tales to your ears. My mother put his greatest adventures into print, and I have just managed to reacquire my copies of those volumes. If there's time this evening, I may just select a few passages to read to the crew."
As to my own origins, I demurred a bit. "Come now, there's always an air of mystery around every famous pirate. And since I aim to become one, I believe I should refrain from spilling the minute details of my childhood. Suffice it to say, I was raised on the lore of the pirate through and through."
Adding a playful smile to deflect the disappointment that may thus be forthcoming, I then asked of her story. "And you, Harmony? What of your background?"
I took in the raven-haired beauty, with her mysterious golden eyes. It's said that pirates often have a lust for gold, but I decided to keep that observation to myself."I can think of worse fates," I replied with a smile.
Esmarelda could not help but grin from that. With how well her task had gone and now being flattered, her esteem was almost back to full. She felt bold again. "That is wonderful to hear, I shall keep that in mind." She told him, he felt her hand pull away the one he held her chin with, enabling her to lean in and give him a soft peck on the lips. Once she pulled away, she slipped back to the entrance of the shop as she pointed at his books. "My favorite was The Pirate Who Loved Me. I will have to come back after speaking with Rosie about my kapenia, and see if my copy is still here." She told him before she left.
--------------------------
She shook her head. "I'm not here for anyone other than myself." Esmarelda told her honestly. "the Quarter master told me that you bought my kapenia and I was hoping I would be able to make a deal with you to get it." She explained as best she could without making her even more angry then she already seemed. "It is very dear to me, has been in my family a long time. In my culture it marks me as an adult." She added.
"Ya mean my new f+%!in' blanket? Well s~#*, lemme think about it... No! I spent my f%$#in' good money on that piece of s!!* and unless you got five f%!#in' gold kickin' around to reimburse me, plus some, ya can't f$%+in' have it!" Rosie's cheeks color in anger. "That f$$@in' b%*+~ Grok scammin' me and swindlin' me keepin' my g%# d~~n fiddle! I bet she ain't even f##~in' heard a g&# d%&n fiddle before. Bull s+#% is what this is! Tryin' to charge me so much I'll never afford it! But f##@ her, I'll buy what I can until that shop is s*~& empty!"
To Cueta, Harmony nods in agreement. "I've no love lost for kidnappers. It'll be a while until we can maneuver ourselves into a position strong enough to start doing something about them, though. You can count on my help, though."
With Gall, "I say keep a hold of the cookbook. Anything that gives us an edge, any edge, to perform our duties for now and stay under the radar is a good thing. I'll see what I can do about getting your things back. What exactly are you missing? I doubt the stuff is labeled with the previous owners", she smiles.
When Artevious asks Harmony about her background, "Well, I grew up most of my younger years in Port Peril, in fairly modest surroundings. Moved away when I was still quite young, and did a lot of odd jobs, all sorts of stuff, really. I only came back to Port Peril a few days ago, and then this happened."
Why is it people just always seem pissed off? She wondered as she listened to Rosie's rant. Then it hit her, her fiddle! She seemed to care a lot for it, maybe a trade would work? "What if I got your fiddle for you?" She asked with a sly smirk. "I get you your fiddle, you give me back my kapenia, and we're both a little happier on this gods forsaken boat." She added with a simple shrug.
"Hrm. Good point. Should be a fair few things what look a fair bit bigger'n anything any of the crew on this ship have got any right to be usin'. Sling, cestus, terbutje-- Err. Big ol' sword what looks different. And a chain shirt. Wouldn't mind gettin' my pack back, too, but I can live without it." Gall says after a pause for thought about how poorly organized the quartermaster's shop must be. Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, he snatches up an orange and tosses it Harmony's way. "See if ye can't bribe her into givin' me things back. I've got all manner of goods in here that nobody'll miss."
Rosie takes a moment to think over Esmarelda's proposal befor grabbing the woman's hand and giving it a firm shake. "Well s+&!, I guess I could agree to a f&$#in' deal like that!" she exclaimed. "You get me my f@&!in' fiddle and I'll trade your over-sized handkerchief."
"ON DECK YE YELLOW BELLIED CURS!" a voice, perhaps magically amplified to reach every corner of the ship, echoes through the air. Mr. Plugg's voice is easy to identify. "IT BE THE BLOODY HOUR AND THERE BE A KEELHAULIN'!"
A hush settles across the rest of the crew as they all start shuffling to the main deck. A keelhaul was rarely good news for the victim. It was a morbid punishment, though no one seemed to have any idea who it was that had garnered such a punishment.
Up on the main deck, Master Scourge has the young Jakes Magpie by the scruff of his neck. Mr. Plugg paces in front of the pair while the captain watches from his position on the poop deck.
"Did ye, or did ye not pinch that pretty little trinket from the shop?!" Mr. Plugg asked, getting his face right up into the rather frightened looking Jakes Magpie's face. "Ye think the pretty thing belonged to ye? DID YE?! IT BE THE CAP'N'S AND YE BE THINKIN' YE CAN JUST TAKE IT?!"
"N-no, sir! No! Y-ya gotta believe me! I ain't takin' nothin', no sir!" stammered back Jakes.
"A likely story," sneered Scourage as he smacked the lad across the back of the head.
The young man tried to recoil from the blow, but Scoruge held him tight. "No, please! It was a gift from me Ma an' I just wanted ta see it again! I didn't take it no!" Jakes pleaded.
"AHA! So ye admit ye broke into the shop, eh boy! Confession enough for me! Kipper! The ropes!" Scourge barked, grinning from ear to ear. Mr. Plugg gave a short nod, apparently also satisfied with the ruling. A few whispers ran around the onlooking crew as Jakes was thrown over the side and into the deep cold waters. Mr. Plugg cranked at the rope that wrapped around the underside of the ship.
Cueta is able to note Mr. Plugg's sadistic and twisted smile. He obviously takes joy in this torturous punishment. He seems to be taking more time and going much slower than strictly necessary.
Two minute later, the shredded and broken body of Jakes Magpie is brought back over the side. The ship's 'doctor', the Stitchman as you all know him as, gives the body a quick once over and shakes his head. Kipper quickly unties the bloody corpse and tosses it back over.
"Now let that be a lesson to ye!" Master Scourge says, giving the stink eye to the gathered crew. He points a finger at the lot of you, wherever you may be standing among the crowed. "You lot! Line up now, nice and orderly. Don't think I haven't forgotten about you!"
One by one, you all are bound to the mast and given your lashes. Scourge has a knack for whippings and each crack of the whip splits the skin.
At the end of the Bloody Hour, the crew are dismissed to enjoy their evening. You're all free to go, too, although you'll likely be enjoying it a good bit less with the raw wounds on your backs.
Cueta scowls as Jakes is tied and thrown overboard. The pocketwatch she found had clearly belonged to the boy, and not unlike her own possessions, was probably seized by the crew when Jakes was press-ganged. That Plugg seems to enjoy the act of killing the boy - taking his time as Jakes is drug along the hull of The Wormwood - makes Cueta's frown even deeper. Thieves and sadists in addition to press-gangers.
Mr. Plug had moved up Cueta's list.
When Scourge points to the group, Cueta stares at the man for a few seconds before stepping forward. Pulling her shirt over her back, she tilts her head back to Scourge. "Know this. You are about to whip one of Besmara's chosen. Consider carefully that the Pirate Queen is not a loving, nor a forgiving goddess. And Mwangis don't forget whippings."
---------------
At dinner, Cueta grabs a plate of fish and sits in the same spot as yesterday evening, shifting uncomfortably. Once her friends are assembled, Cueta speaks, her voice low. "I found the pocketwatch that Jakes was given, hidden in the bilges. It was inscribed to him from his mother. I also found his hiding spot - a loose board directly across the wall from the words "For my little Jakey." Pry the board out and you'll find the watch - as well as the fine axe that I used to carve the words into the wall. If you "find" anything laying about, hide it in the bilges, so Plugg doesn't turn you to chum."
Gall snarls and clenches his teeth as the whip bites into his skin, but he does his best to stay as still as possible. Easier said than done, but he does not want any extra lashes for flinching. When he is released from the bindings, he sets his jaw and moves back to the group with every effort to look no worse for the wear. It's far from the truth, but he sees no reason to appear weak in front of the rest of the crew. When each of his friends amble back over to the watching crowd, he is careful to offer a hand to steady them should they need it and a few soft words. "Yer all right, I've got ye if ye need a spot of aid. Lick yer wounds, we'll be right as rain in the morning."
When the evening's festivities draw to a close, he heads down to get a bit of dinner for himself and joins the group at whatever table they can find. Gall grunts around a chunk of orange, taking a moment to chew and swallow before he speaks. "Good on ye, lass. I reckon we'll be using that quite a bit soon. As for yerself," he replies as he turns to Esmarelda, "it ain't subtle that yer young, so I'm gonna give ye a warning and a bit of advice. Warning first: this ain't a pleasure cruise. If we wanna get outta this, we'll be getting our hands dirty. I can carry ye to the end, but I can't carry everyone. So, we're all gonna have to carry our own weight. Now, the advice. The fear, the pain, the tears. All that's fine. Natural. But if ye wanna get through this, yer gonna need to stow that pride. If ye don't, yer gonna find that Besmara ain't so keen on lip neither. But don't ye never lose that sense of humor. That'll keep ye alive. Aye?"
"Is it sad I was hoping you would have a bad memory?" Esmarelda said in Scourge direction. She fell in line along with her friends, pulling her shirt off to expose her back. She didn't want the whip to rip apart her only shirt and she didn't mind holding it over her breasts as he dished out her lashings.
As the whip tore into her skin Esmarelda gripped her shirt tightly to deal with the pain. It was the worst pain she had ever felt! She quickly bit her bottom lip to keep herself from crying out, as tears started to run from her eyes again. No! Stop it! You can't let them see you cry!" She told herself as she buried her face in her shirt to keep people from seeing her tears.
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When everything settled down, Esmarelda still held her shirt in front her till her back stopped bleeding and she could clean off the blood so it wouldn't stain her shirt. It didn't take her too long to do, but it stung like mad since all she had to clean it with was sea water. Once she was done with that, she went to find Gall before heading up to dinner. She listened to his words and sighed"You're right... Normally if I mouth off I can just run away but... not on a ship." She said as she looked up at him. "Thank you for helping me." She smiled softly, even with the lashings she was still rather pleased with the day. "Just fair wanting, I'm going to hug you now." She said before she threw her arms around his midriff, since he towered over her. She let go smiling at him. "I have to go see the Quartermaster again, but I will keep everything you said in mind and take it to heart." She told him before walking off to see Grok.
"Good to know, it may come in handy." Esmarelda told her with a nod. "I doubt I'll find anything to be honest... I should keep my head down so that I don't end up mouthing off. It is obvious I have a problem with that..." She said as she ran her hand into her hair. It was an easy observation after the little speech Gall had given her.
"It is good advice," Cueta says, oblivious that most of what Gall said could apply to herself, especially the part about pride. "And we're all finding things. Yesterday you didn't know you were such a good rat-catcher, right?"
Mopping the rest of the sauce off her plate with her last hunk of bread, Cueta sighs. "The flogging was bad, but the keelhauling... Killing a man for stealing back his own pocketwatch, was given to him by his ma. That's the type of thing that gets you haunted." Cueta puts her plate down, bread uneaten, and abruptly stands. "Gotta go. Head."
It was an off-the-cuff idea, but her window would close as soon as the crew was finished dinner, and some of them decided to head to their berths to sleep off a hard day. Making her way to the lower deck, Cueta looks around.
Satisfied that she's alone, Cueta grabs a torch from a wall-sconce and hurries down to the bilges, where she takes the axe from its hiding place. Quickly, she carves more letters into the wall where she had earlier carved the pocket watch's inscription. Standing back, she gives her work a quick look-over, but time is short, and she heads upstairs to replace the torch and get back to her dinner companions, hopefully unmissed by anyone else.
"Sorry," Cueta says, holding her stomach and wincing. "Must've drank some bilge on accident."
Cueta can't help but smile though, making her bluff patently obvious, as she thinks of the words now carved on the wall.
You all will pay
For my little Jakey's murder
I swear on my restless soul
Little rebellions. It may not amount to much, and Cueta didn't know where to take it from here, but pirates were a superstitious lot. She knew she'd be scared, had she not carved it.
My jolly good time on this ship came crashing to a halt as if the Wormwood, rotten as its namesake, smashed into a cliffwall. I'd presumed that Scourge was mostly bluster, loud as he was and cracking that whip with gusto, but he was quite more dastardly than that. Worse, however, was the captain.
I'd honestly never quite understood what a keelhauling was. I had figured it was some heavy, unpleasant work when the ship needed to be drydocked or something. But this wasn't anything like that. This was unnecessary and cruel. The fate of poor Jakes Magpie was gruesome. Stories often allude to the harsh and grisly demise of foes and swiftly move on to other matters. Unfortunately, real life was quite different as the dripping, bloody corpse of Jakes was dragged back on deck for all to see.
Then came the whipping post. I was first, I suppose because he chose alphabetically or something, and received a pair of lashes. My father had suffered under the lash at times; sometimes he escaped before hand, sometimes during, and sometimes he simply had to endure, knowing full well that he would later get the upper hand.
It seemed like for me, I would have to bide my time. I resolved to not be placed on the post a second time, and to ensure that I would later have the upper hand on that villain Scourge.
"Thanks. I try to leave the talkin' to folks like Harmony there, but sometimes ye get a wee gem of wisdom here and there, I suppose." He replies to Cueta's as he winds an arm around Esmarelda's shoulders with a hoarse chuckle. Gall does his best not to squeeze, given the treatment that they have already received this evening, but he can only do so much. "Think nothin' of it, lass. Ye can thank me if we get outta this alive."
When Cueta's wanders off for a few moments, he quirks a brow after her until he realizes what she meant. Bilge work is vile and he can hardly blame her. Tucking into his fish, he looks across to Harmony and nods in her direction. "Y'know, lass, yer gonna have to tell these lads one of them stories ye got sooner or later. I reckon they'll love it, no matter what it's 'bout. You been tellin' tales a long while?"
The stinging on my back was a steady reminder of the peril I was actually in. But I was determined to turn the tide. Not only was I whipped, but the other folks who were brought along aboard with me. Sometimes the harshest conditions can create the firmest bonds.
Afterwards, I listened to Gall's resonant voice giving encouragement. I could have clapped him on his back in agreement, except for the raw wounds. "I am in firm agreement, Gall!" I extolled. "Harmony, milady, I have been requested to ask that you regale the crew with one of your fine tales. I think spirits are in need of lifting, and a rousing story is one such way!"
I thought, and added, "By the way, the purser, Grok, was the one who requested it. She seems a reasonable sort, and is quite willing to work out arrangements and barter for the items. I think there can be some profit in these sorts of endeavors."
Esmarelda slipped into Grok's shop, looking around for Rosie's fiddle as she walked in. "You don't happen to have a small fiddle around here?" She asked Grok as she leaned on the table, her cup of rum still in her hand. Esmarelda had always been more of a whiskey drinker then a rum lover, so she hardly touched her drink.
During the keelhauling of Jakes Magpie, Harmony just grimaces and stares furious daggers at Mister Plugg, but doesn't speak out loud. It it clear from her expression just how much she not only disapproves of this action, but outright *loathes* it. Monsters, she thinks to herself. You are nothing but filthy, murdering animals, and you deserve everything Cueta is planning. Every single thing. And I am more committed than ever on helping her.
During the lashing, Harmony has the easiest time at it, perhaps due to sheer chance, perhaps because Scourge fancies her, perhaps because she avoids direct backtalk, perhaps because the wind blew in a favorable direction, who knows. Either way, she only grits her teeth with a pained face as the lashes bite into her back, and doesn't let out sounds of pain this time. She just stares coldly directly ahead at the post she's tied to. And you, Scourge. If I get my way, you and Plugg are dead men walking.
Afterwards, as both Gall and Artevious request a tale, it doesn't take much for her to dig up the right tale.
Harmony tells a tale of a cruel pirate captain, who enjoyed torturing his crew members and captives, killing and maiming them at will. He led his crew on a harrowing adventure through many trials, with the aim to find a lost golden artifact that gave immortality to the one that possessed it. Through amazing adventures, the pirate crew made it through the adventures, and the pirate captain gained possession of the artifact, making him immortal. However, a side effect was that he now cycled through every pain and punishment he had inflicted upon others, from the first time he had kicked a puppy to the most recent time he had backhanded a sailor, going chronologically and looping over and over again. He remains alive even today, continuing to go through all the pains he's ever inflicted, and sometimes, when you listen to the wind, you can maybe hear his screams...
Cueta leans forward and puts her head in her hands, and closes her eyes, taking in the story that Harmony tells. The Mwangi had always enjoyed stories. It was in her culture. Though hers was diluted a bit by growing up in Bloodcove, even in the Mwangi-towns there, the oral tradition was strong. Cueta herself had spent a little time trying to learn the art of storytelling, but was never better than a middling tale-spinner.
Harmony though, she had a gift. By closing her eyes and listening to the cadence of the woman's voice, Cueta was taken to that artifact hunt, and into the cruelties of the pirate captain, and for a bit, away from the swaying of The Wormwood and her own pain and exhaustion.
But like all good stories, Harmony's tale of the cruel pirate captain had to end. Back to reality, Cueta was surprised to find that her throat was constricted and her eyes were moist. Excusing herself for the second that evening, Cueta made her way below decks, where she slept under her hammock, on her stomach, so that the wounds on her back could breathe.
A brutal tale, but one that ends with justice befitting a vicious captain with no sense of mercy. Gall sits quietly through the story, listening with clear interest as he enjoys his fish. He always enjoys a good story to take his mind off of things, though this one is a bit more topically appropriate than he was expecting. Not that he minds; perhaps it will be able to convince a few of the crew to abstain from their more cruel inclinations. Personally, he doubts it, but one never does know.
When the tale draws to a close, he nods his approval and pops a chunk of orange into his mouth. "Well said, lass. Much as I'm keen on gettin' to know the lot of ye better or hearin' another, I think I left something in the galley before the Bloody Hour. 'Scuse me, won't ye?"
Pushing himself to his feet, he nods politely to the group before heading off toward the stairs. In truth, he does not have anything to leave in the galley in the first place. But he does know that there has to be more junk lying around therein that nobody will miss. It will just take a measure of stealth to acquire it, more than likely.
I must say, I was entirely enraptured by Harmony's tale -- a cautionary tale of the high seas and the dangers it presents.
As her tale drew to a close, the tension on the ship was palpable. The slow and steady creak of the ropes and the slosh of the waves against the Wormwood's hull was the only sound for a while. She was quite the gifted storyteller.
I myself, however, had some tales to tell. I felt that the lads and ladies of the crew might be interested in a bit of swashbuckling romance after such a heady tale. So after the crew had a chance to regain their wits from Harmony's oration, I took the opportunity to step up and take the stage.
I had carefully selected the novel I wished to introduce to the crew. While I had large swaths of them memorized, I still liked to read from the pages. Something about their texture, their musty smell that transported me to the voyages of my father. There was, really, no debate. After all, with my own rum ration being enjoyed by Grok, it felt quite appropriate. I should start these chaps at the beginning.
Once I had the audience's attention, I began. "Ho, lads and ladies! Are you in for a treat! I thank Harmony for the recounting of such a chilling legend, but now is the time for high adventure and derring-do! For I shall be reading to you selections from the very first Le Pirate de Poisson novel, entitled Gone with the Rum!"
I cleared my throat, and began: ... she had never seen such a man with such wide shoulders, so heavy with muscles, almost too heavy for gentility. When her eye caught his, he smiled, showing animal-white teeth below a close-clipped black mustache. He was dark of face, swarthy as a pirate, and his eyes were as bold and black as any pirate's appraising a galleon to be scuttled or a maiden to be ravished. There was a cool recklessness in his face and a cynical humor in his mouth as he smiled at her...
I stuck to the highlights -- the best parts, the fighting and the loving. The derring-do and the witty banter of the Pirate de Poisson.
Esmarelda attempts to get into Groks shop, but actually finds that it is locked up for the evening. Any knocking turns up no answers. It's very likely Grok is either eating or in her quarters.
"An' what're you doin'?" slurred a gruff voice from the adjacent room. "Ya ferget somthin' laddy?" Fishguts gave a big yawn and stumbled out of his quarters, a half empty bottle of rum in his hand. "Wait, wha'day is it? S'it time ta make dinner lad?"
Seems like Gall's plans of snooping about the galley have come to an unfortunate end before they even began. "No, no, no. I think I remember cookin'. Yea, that's it. Ya want some rum laddy? Grab a cup an' I'll tell ye a story!"
Harmony had no problem getting everyone's attentions as soon as she announced she was going to be spinning a tale. Word got around quick about her stories after a few of the crew got a taste at the Formidably Maid. The usual boisterous shouts and laughs of the crew dulled to a muffled murmur, all eyes and ears carefully tuned in to Harmony's words.
At the end of the tale there was a smattering of applause, but most sat in contemplative silence.
Artevious, friendly as he was, had as little issue as Harmony when it came time for him to call everyone's attention. At the first sight of a book, some of them lost interest. Pirates weren't much for reading in most cases. But as soon as Artevious began narrating the epic battles on the high seas, any qualms about books were swiftly put aside. The crew jeered and shouted along with the grand exploits of the dashing pirate.
He may have actually inspired a new reader.
Shortly after his rousing reading, Grok approached Artevious and clapped him on the shoulder. "Ya should have said ya could tell a story like that!" As promised, Grok aggressively handed Artevious his sword in the way only an exceptionally inebriated half-orc could. That is to say, she quite nearly impaled him on his own cutlass. With a grin and lifted cup she bid Artevious goodnight and stumbled back towards her quarters.
"Naw, mate, ain't nothin' like that. Ye slept through makin' dinner, but I kept ye well covered," Gall assures the drunkard cook as he tries to mask the fact that he was snooping around. Realistically, he doubted that there was any chance he could get in trouble given that he would be working here every day. But he thought it better to err on the side of caution, for now. "Err. Well, why the hell not? Suppose I could use another story this evening, might help the pair of us get on a bit better. Let's hear it, shall we?" And with that, the half-giant settles in to the nearest object that could serve as a chair to listen. Maybe some good will come of this, even having quite thoroughly failed.
I bowed with a flourish at the generous applause as I finished. I promised them that much more was to come -- my mother had written numerous volumes. When Grok clapped me on the shoulder I was grateful that she missed my wounds by scant inches, then further thankful that my cutlass missed me by nearly the same margin.
I nodded in thanks for her praise. "If you could see fit that some of my new mates here on board could have some of their belongings returned I could endeavor that every night has similar entertainment," I offered before letting her stagger off to mull it over.
I tipped my hat and shook a few hands with the other crew who had also enjoyed my mother's writings, then set off to retire in my own berth. I also had some healing to do, and I wanted to be fresh and on deck first thing in the morning to avoid any further retribution from Scourge. The man liked his lash a little too much.
Esmarelda sighed when she found the store all locked up. She walked back up to join the others, returning just in time to hear the end of Harmony's tale. Harmony's tale had been wonderful to hear and she told it well and while it seemed Cueta agreed, she got up and headed below right after it. She was soon followed by Gall, which made Esmarelda raise en eyebrow. Did I miss something? She wondered, first Cueta and now Gall. But Esmarelda gave a friendly nod to them both before turning her attention to Artevious who had begun to read from one of his mother's books. While she had liked Harmoney's story, it was Artevious's book that made her smile softly. She listened to his words and they took her back to when she would lock herself in her father's study and read the very same stories that filled the books he had. Then she watched with a look of worry as Grok walk up and give him a cutlass, almost running him through with it.
When Grok came her way to head below deck, Esmarelda swiftly removed herself from the path of the drunken half-orc. She would speak with her tomorrow about the fiddle if she had the time. She smirked and shook her head as she watched Grok disappear below before going to join her friends. "Good choice." She told Artevious. She settled into a seat with ease, to spend a little more time with Harmony and Artevious before heading to her hammock for the evening.
Unfortunately, Harmony has been pretty exhausted by the trials of the day. She had planned to go to sleep right after the lashing as it were, but had been talked into telling the story about the cursed immortal pirate. After managing to squeeze out the tale, however, it's clear in her voice, if not in her immaculately groomed appearance, that she's on her last legs for the day. "I'll see you tomorrow, Esmarelda. For now, I'm afraid I've given all I have to give." With that, she heads belowdecks for a good night's sleep to try to recover from the day's fatigue.
The night was quiet and the waters calm, making easy rest for the crew.
You awake the next morning with much less incident than the previous day. However, when you open your locker, you find you have each had an item of yours returned to you.
Harmony's chain shirt
Esmarelda's spell component pouch
Artevious' belt pouch and its contents
Gall's cestus
Cueta's boarding pike
You reach the main deck un-maimed and un-threatened. Well, at least until you get to Mr. Plugg who seems to be handing out the days work instead of Master Scourge. It doesn't take much to pick up the whispers going through the crew saying that Scourge was sick and bedridden. Some say he was poisoned, but suggesting that only results in a harsh scolding from the Cabin Girl if she's within ear-shot. Apparently it's her job to test the officer's food for poison.
high = sober, low = inebriated