Gall stands up from his hammock gingerly in an effort not to aggravate his wounds any further, but finds that the sting has significantly lessened today. His body seems to have done what it was made to masterfully and he is certainly not complaining. A quick check to make certain his coin is still in his locker reveals the cestus that has abruptly appeared within. He lifts his brows in surprise and quickly snatches up the weapon to tuck into his belt. Best others don't know he has anything of the sort. He can always ask the group later if one of them happened to nick it. In the meantime, he heads up to the main deck with a bit more of a spring in his step than he thought he would. On the way, or perhaps once in the morning line-up, he offers a grin and a wink to his friends but stays quiet. Thanks can come later.
Apparently I'm a butcher today. I ought to have a list made of all the jobs I've taken on; it's starting to get to be fairly long. He sets to work on the beast with practiced ease, carving it from stem to stern with a flensing knife. He then empties the beast of its unnecessary innards before helping Ambrose work through the preparations. As soon as he is able, though, he excuses himself from the galley. While he would really like to see if there is anything else he can dig up that might help, getting his gear back is equally important. No harm in getting a word in edge-wise before Harmony gets there. He hopes, anyway.
"Hey there, lass. Ye got a tic? I was wonderin' if I might bend yer ear about my effects. Maybe we can work out some sort of arrangement?" Gall suggests, trying not to sound too hopeful. This would all be far easier if he did not have to buy his things back piece by piece, after all.
Cueta scowls as she's assigned the bilges. Again. Still covered in filth from the day before, she figures at least she can't get much dirtier. After an hour or so of work, Cueta begs off and sits on the ladder, thankful at least that no one else is assigned to work with her. Or not work with her, as she decides to once again shirk her duties, and instead take a look around the lower hold.
Perching on the ladder, it is easy enough to tell when no one is in the lower hold. Whenever the opportunity presents itself, Cueta scrambles up into the lower hold and searches the area, checking crew berths for any unlocked lockers, rummaging through hammocks, and checking any other containers in the hold, always careful to put things back as they were. She especially concentrates on the berths of the four crewmen that attempted to assault them the previous morning, figuring anything that she can take from them will only help Cueta and her friends in the long run.
Despite the fact that for the second day in a row that the sailor has shirked her duties, Cueta still feels awful at the end of the day, as if she's fighting off some sort of sickness or infection.
It was a pleasant surprise to find no surly roustabouts lurking to ruin our punctuality the next morning. Further, I found that a number of my effects were returned to me, sitting atop my mother's novels. Certainly a nice find, I equipped myself and strode upon deck to receive the day's task.
I was to work the mainsail -- clearly an important job, since the mainsail was, well, the main one. My exuberance for the task carried me through the day, because otherwise it would have been backbreaking labor.
Throughout the day, I chatted with Conchobar, that dapper gnome with a penchant to wax poetic about Rosie Cusswell. I offered to assist where I may, lending an insight into the workings of romance I had garnered from my mother's writings.
Esmarelda greeted the day with a sigh as she got up and out of her hammock. She began to stretch but her back disagreed with the action so she halted it. While they where not as painful as they had been last night, her wounds where still there. She walked over to her locker and opened it to make sure her spellbook was still there and gave a gasp when she saw her spell component pouch sitting right beside it. At first she smiled, then she paused. Who got this back? How did they get it back? Most importantly... why? She wondered as she picked it up and looked inside to ensure that everything was still there. When she was satisfied everything was accounted for she almost began to slide it into place on her belt, then stopped. Should this be something I carry openly? She asked herself. After thinking it over she tucked it back into her locker for safe keeping and headed up on deck.
When she got there she was slightly taken back at Plugg dishing out their orders for the day. Oh this can't be good... She sighed before she got in line and was given her task for the day. Being a runner shouldn't be difficult, yet Esmarelda was having a hell of a time! Her mind was still running over everything that had happened yesterday at bloody hour, and the fact she still had to get Rosie's fiddle. That on top of wondering who had given her back her spell pouch, took more of her attention than it should have. Making her slow her pace multiple times throughout the day, thus her response time between officers rather poor.
Though when a letter for Grok came up, Esmarelda was there as quickly as her feet would carry her. This is my chance! She thought, just before she came to an abrupt stop to ensure she didn't run into Gall. "That was close..." She said with a sigh as she worked her way around him. "Hello Gall." She said with a smile before turned her attention to Grok. "Letter for you." She told her as she held it out to her. "Also while I'm here, you wouldn't happen to have a little fiddle would you?" She asked as she raised an eyebrow.
"If that arrangement be ya puttin' money in my hands, I think we can probably work somethin' out," Grok said with a cheeky grin to the large man. "Unless ya got somethin' of equal value, then maybe we can try ta trade. Cap'n wouldn't like if I just started givin' away all his things. What did ya have in mind, big fella?"
At the end of the day, the fatigued Cueta earned a through shouting at, though nothing more. It seems like Mr. Plugg has his hands full enough trying to do both his own job as well as Scourges for the day.
However, while she was shirking her duties, Cueta managed to do a fair bit of snooping around the lower deck. Under each of the crews' hammocks, they keep a chest of their own possessions. Each of these chests is secured with a poor quality lock, which Cueta would know isn't too difficult to disable given some time. However, none of these chests were left unlocked. But her search did turn up one useful item! Tucked behind some of the spare chests was a slight misshapen crowbar. Judging by the dust and grime caked to it, no one would notice it if it disappeared.
Conchobhar was more than delighted to have someone to further discuss Rosie with. "Oh-ho, she's a hard nut to crack!" he exclaimed. "But I tell you, any day now, she will fall into my arms! Now, what was that you said your father did to woo that one woman? ... Mhm... Oh yes, I see. O-oh my."
After a day of friendly pointers and Conchobhar discussing the song he's been writing in Rosie's honor, he claps Artevious on the shoulder. "You are truly a gentleman, good sir! Doing your father proud, no doubt! Should you ever need anything, don't you be shy about asking old Conchobhar!"
Grok looked confused for a short moment before a frown furrowed in her brows. "Rosie sent ya, did she? No point lyin', she's sent more than a few down ta try and fetch it. I'll tell ya what I told her, and all the others: It'll be fifty gold pieces for the fiddle. And there ain't much that'll change my mind on that price."
Although she may not know how they did it, Esmarelda knows that Mila Quinn had managed to wrangle up a few items from Grok without paying up. Perhaps there's more than one way to skin a cat.
On the third day, Harmony is assigned to mopping and scrubbing the decks, and she doesn't do too well with it. She manages to avoid any serious consequences, but it's obvious that she isn't as good at this as she is at message delivery or ropework. At the end of the day, she's once more quite exhausted, making it three times in a row that she has no energy for anything during the night, except crawling into her bunk and passing out.
Over the course of the day, she manages to socialize a little, and targets Cut-Throat Grok for her attentions. Though she doesn't have time to visit the quartermaster at her base of operations itself, she does exchange some words with her when Grok shows up on deck while Harmony is mopping. "It's nice to see that you've gotten to such an important position. I have experience with many people who would be dismissive or even outright hostile to someone like you because of your ancestry", she says to the half-orc, "but whatever other faults Plugg and Scourge might have, at least they don't appear to be outright racists." She sort of intentionally makes the assumption that Plugg and Scourge would be responsible for Grok's position, leaving Grok the opportunity to say something along the lines of 'Harrigan gave me the chance, not Plugg or Scourge' if that is the case.
The crowbar goes into Cueta's hiding space along with the axe and the pocket watch. It will be useful later, but today isn't the time or place to be breaking into people's lockers.
When Plugg lays into Cueta, the sailor stands impassively, trying to mask any emotion, as she studies Mr. Plugg, hoping to figure out the best way to plant an idea in his head, the kernal of a plan that has been growing in Cueta's mind since she scrawled the message on the bilge walls.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Plugg. I'm not feeling good. Could be all the bilge, made me feel sick. There's the words down there too, pretty scary, even though I'm not the one that killed Jakes."
She chooses her words carefully so that she tells no lies, and hopes that Plugg doesn't ask her too many questions. Oh, if only I had Harmony's silver tongue!
"Hullo, lass," Gall greets Esmarelda cheerfully before he goes back to listening to Grok's proposition. Something to trade might not be so hard to come by, if he had much of anything to offer. As it stands, he has little more than a cookbook and his cestus, neither of which he is keen on parting with. "Aye, suppose I could scrounge something up. Don't suppose you'd take food as a fair trade? I work just there with Fishguts, so I got a fair bit of that. Or maybe there'd be something else yer fond of what I could help ye get?"
The words Mila had spoken from the first night filled her head. Superstitious... But friendly if you can butter her up... Hmm. She looked to Grok, a friendly smile on her face. "I won't lie, there is no point to. I respect you too much. Doing your job can't be easy, having to deal with press ganged crew who are angry their belongs where taken can't be pleasant. I need the fiddle to trade to Rosie to get my kapenia, simple as that. Surely we can work out a payment plan or an exchange of goods for an amount of time? The only thing worth any real coin I have is my spellbook and after what Mila told you about it, not really tradable." She was hoping the witch's curse Mila came up with would come to Grok's mind if Mila's visit to her was brought up. "That really only leaves me with two things, my dinner and my rum rations. I would be willing to give you my rum rations for a month if you let me walk away with the fiddle." She suggested the terms calmly, doing her best to seem friendly.
With my rigging task coming to a close and my comradely fellowship with Conchobar sealed with a firm handshake, I decided to meet a few more of the crew. I asked the good Shortstone to introduce me to that brooding fellow, Crimson Cogward.
"Ahoy and hello! What a life! To be pressganged upon one of the fiercest vessels of the Shackles themselves! Brave and hearty souls thrust together by outrageous circumstance to chart their own paths! What's your story, might I ask?"
At around the noon hour when the sun was at its highest point of the day, Grok comes out on to the main deck with a rather dry looking sandwich in hand. She leans over the railing and looks out over the ocean. When Harmony approaches her, she's quite friendly and even seems eager to chat with her.
"Nice thing about bein' a pirate out here is that no one care who ya are or where ya come from. Everyone treated the same: like shit." Grok gives Harmony a big wide grin. "But enough of that talk. Where'd ya learn to spin a tale like that? Ya got all the crew listenin' like they were back home on their momma's laps again!"
Plugg sneers at Cueta and spits at her feet. "Ye be a filthy liar, and not a good one at that. Ye'll be in the bilges until ya learn to do yer job properly down there!"
Cueta continues to avoid the lash for today as Plugg still seems too busy to deal with indiscretions in behavior today.
"Now, ya better not be nickin' things from the kitchen and gettin' ol' Fishguts inta trouble," she says, giving Gall a warning glance. "But if ya do managed to earn somethin' nice, ya let me know and I'll see what I can do for ya. And don't make it food, I prefer my meals in liquid form."
"I won't be takin' ya rations of either type," she said flatly. "One, ya need food, and two, I'd get sick of all the rum before the month ran out. Ya seem like a smart lass, and there's plenty of ways ta be earnin' things on this boat. You'll figure somethin' out."
COnchobhar is more than happy to introduce the pair, although he keeps Artevious between him and Cog. Apparently, Cog has a tendency to pick a fight whenever he can and it would seem Conchobhar is avoiding that fight coming towards his own face. Unfortunately, Cog is a bit busy for chatter today. "Sorry mate, but maybe I can catch ya a touch later over some grog," he says as he gets back to his work.
"Ah, no! No, no. Wouldn' dream of it, lass, I were just meanin' that I could see about whippin' up some dishes ye might be fond of or something. I'll see if there ain't anything what meets yer standards, then. Sorry for takin' up yer time," Gall amends quickly, looking more than a bit embarrassed by her assumption as to what he meant. Not surprised in the least, but definitely not thrilled. He is fairly used to having his words taken in the worst possible way.
Heading back into the rest of the galley, he pauses once he gets out of earshot of the quartermaster and waves Esmarelda over. "Say, lass. What're ye lookin' for a fiddle for, anyhow? I didn't figure ye for some kinda bard or nothin'."
"Oh, here and there. Ollo. Quent. Many places all around the Shackles", Harmony replies to Grok's inquiry about her background. "Though I can't really say I learned it...I guess I did hone it, over time, but the initial part...I guess it was something that just came to me. I started realizing when I was pretty young that people tend to listen to what I have to say. So it was kind of natural to start to think about what I wanted to tell them." She shrugs, a little sheepishly, to the half-orc. "Honestly, I'm just glad if you're entertained. Means my big thing isn't going to waste."
Esmarelda sighed sadly as she walked out of the room racking her brain about what she could do, yet seeing Gall wave her over snapped her out. "It isn't for me." She answered as she placed her hands on her hips. "It is for Rosie, she bought my kapenia and I don't have the gold to buy it from her. But, I was able to get her to agree to a trade: her fiddle for my kapenia." She explained as she leaned against the wall of the ship. "Only problem is Grok wants fifty gold for it! I could buy my kapenia back from Rosie ten times over if I had that."
"Aye, maybe. But ye could be buyin' her friendship by gettin' it back for her, too. Or something similar. Either way, shouldn' be so hard to get the kinda thing that Grok'd be willin' to trade for." Gall casts a glance around the galley as he replies, as though trying to see if there might be anything in the immediate area that would fit the bill. When nothing avails itself, he grunts and looks back to Esmarelda with an apologetic smile. "Just keep yer eyes and ears open, aye? We'll get our things back sooner or later."
"I hope you are right Gall and I shall keep a look out for anything that she may trade for. All I have is a copper, no where near enough for what she wants, and I was saving it for the day I could shove it down Maheem's throat!" She said, her eyes flashed with an angry gleam as the last words left her lips but quickly snapped back to the point she was going to make. "But the point is there isn't much I can do with just a copper..." She said with a sigh as she stood back up fully. "I should get back to my task, I've been gone long enough and I don't want to get in any more trouble." Giving Gall a friendly nod, she turned and headed back up to finish the task she had been assigned.
Cueta shrugs. "I guess I'd better learn, then. But I'm not lying - there's writing down there, on the walls of the bilge."
There'd be no shirking her duties tomorrow. Someone else needed to get down there eventually, the sooner the better.
Turning without a further word, Cueta makes her way to dinner.
Harmony is quite exhausted by the time she makes it to dinner. This is a bunch of crap. This is outright slavery. How do they expect to make this work long term? Well, that's a stupid question, of course. Our lives are disposable, and then they'll just get some more slaves the way they got us. A slave ship riding the waves of the Shackles. I know Cueta's amenable to ending this. What about the rest? Are they just out for themselves? Am I? Do I want to stop this because I want to make the Shackles a better place, or just to save my own skin? Yeah, I think I know the answer to that. She sits off at a corner to the side, quietly, looking thoughtful while picking at her food. After she's done with that, she makes her way slowly over to Gall, to start to sate the curiosity piqued by her wonderings. "So...this is essentially slavery", she says quietly to the half-giant. "Your thoughts on that?"
I decided to continue to forge ahead with my intention of learning about Crimson Cogward despite Mssr. Shortstone's misgivings. It was often true that gruff exteriors were only that, and all it took was a show that one was not off-put by such a demeanor. Over dinner, I again offered to hear his story of how he came aboard the Wormwood, and what he thought of its crew.
"I myself have some decidedly conflicted opinions about a number of the officers, but I anticipate that as soon as we find ourselves locked in combat against one of the fierce threats of these waters, no doubt we will all forge a comradely bond. I cannot wait to draw steel against a common foe."
With a nod and a smile across to Esmarelda as she heads back to her task, Gall does much the same. Although, his task involves a fair bit more sitting around the galley and lending Fishguts a hand on occasion. Not that he is going to complain, but it is far from the most work intensive situation.
Later at dinner, he sits back and enjoys his share of the roast pork on a bed of greens. He did not do very much to actually prepare the meal, but it tastes good enough that he feels just a touch of pride to have had a hand in it. If nothing else, it beats the hell out of whatever they might have had without the cook around. Harmony's approach snaps him out of his reverie and he offers her a polite nod, scooting down the bench to give her room to join him.
"So...this is essentially slavery", she says quietly to the half-giant. "Your thoughts on that?"
Her question takes Gall by surprise, but he does not hesitate in his reply. It finds its way to his lips before he even has to mental capacity to think it up; he can feel it in his bones, and has felt it since he woke up here. "Aye, that it is. And don't ye worry, lass. I'll see that gold-toothed cur Scourge relieved of his head 'afore this is over or die tryin'. And any'a the rest of this lot what might've had a hand in gettin' us into this mess." He tilts his head to spit onto the deck at the thought of any of the rest of the crew being involved. During his promise, for it is not a threat, he does not raise his voice or gesture in the least. The cold sincerity of his tone and steely, predatory gaze is likely enough to convey exactly how committed he is. It does not last though, and the guise of an amiable cook's assistant quickly returns sans his usual smile. "Ye fixin' to lend a hand with all that, then? Or just seein' where we've all got our loyalties set?"
Crimson Cogward was a bit of a quiet bloke who kept his eye on any potential brawl outbreaks, and on a ship like this, there was a lot to keep track of. He was pretty hush hush about his own story, but Artevious manages to get him to admit he had actually volunteered to join the crew. It was a rather one sided conversation, with Artevious taking the lead and Crimson Cogward giving short replies. But Artevious eventually found his weak spot; a good fight. "Yeh mate, I seen Grok hand over that cutlass of yours. Ya know how to use it any? I prefer a good fist fight myself. Nothing like the feel of a jaw crackin' under ya knuckles!"
"Well, I'd be lying if I said I approved of this practice", Harmony answers quietly to Gall. "I think it's fair to say that nobody particularly *likes* being captured and being forced to do unpleasant things." A moment's thought, and she briefly glances in Artevious' direction. "Almost nobody." She sighs, and rolls her shoulders tiredly. "Obviously, I want my freedom. I think all of us do -- well, almost all -- but I suppose there are different varieties of wanting that. Some might just be happy with the first chance to run away and put this behind themselves. Others might want revenge for all they've been put through. Flight or vengeance. From the way your words are put, I'd guess you for the latter camp." As for Gall's own questions, Harmony doesn't immediately answer them, gauging her feel for the half-giant, but ultimately does share a little bit. "I suspect very few people here have any real loyalty to Scourge or Plugg. Mostly, just to themselves. Maybe to some personal friends. I suppose it would be good to be able to distinguish people between the latter two. Who's just out for number one, and who might have more than that in themselves. So to answer your question, that is one of the things I'm investigating. Having said that, if I can provide any trouble to you-know-who without getting myself killed, I would certainly help all I could." She tilts her head and smiles a little bit. "Too long an answer?"
Despite her demeanor, Cueta's failed bluff of Plugg had shaken her mightily. The man - surely no student of human nature, save perhaps of those cruelties specific to it - had seen through her deception with ease. That Plugg had simply not believed her, instead of realizing that Cueta was up to something... well, that was extremely fortunate. There could have been a keelhauling in her future instead of dinner. I can't pull this off, Cueta thought, and grabbing her pork over greens, settled into her usual spot next to her friends.
First of all, the pork was good. Really good. Gall had a facility for this kind of work, that was for sure. And second of all, perhaps most importantly, Harmony seemed to be committed to Cueta's side of the ledger - that was, evening the score. As did Gall. Given the good food and the shared motivations of her friends, Cueta's mood was buoyed a bit. I can't pull this off. But perhaps we can.
"Seems to me, what's good for the goose..." Cueta trailed off. "Harrigan, Scourge, Plugg, Jape, Maheem. They're all going into Besmara's chest, if the Pirate Queen gets her way. And I'll always bet on Besmara."
Taking another bite of pork, Cueta considered her options. She was never very likable, nor did she possess much facility for lying. Luckily, Besmara had seen fit to provide Cueta a friend with a silver tongue. Cueta leaned in close and whispered. "I started something. Was a whim, really. Scratched some more words in the hold, after the keelhauling. Now it says:"
"You all will pay
For my little Jakey's murder
I swear on my restless soul"
"Figure, pirates are a superstitious lot. We sow a little discord among the crew, mysterious sounds and lights, so on. Spread rumors Jakes' ghost is wanting revenge on those that keelhauled him. Could be we get the crew riled up enough to turn them against the officers - or at least some of them, like Plugg, who did the deed. Could be we even get a mutiny out of it."
Cueta leans back, looks over her shoulder, and then leans back to finish her thought, looking to Harmony. "Thing is, I'm a fooking bloody poor storyteller. You though, Harmony, you could sell a galleon to a goat."
"Too long an answer?"
"Nah, that's probably for the best that at least one of us is seein' who's really to blame. That way we don't see any poor sods what never did nothin' wrong tossed into the sea. And don't ye worry 'bout stayin' alive, lass. Just stay behind Arty and I, we'll keep ye safe."
Gall frowns thoughtfully at the mention of starting a mutiny by faking a ghost on the ship. It could work and very well, but he has no idea what part he could play in the whole plot. Magic had never been his strong suit and he was not half as good with his words as Harmony. Then again, they did not need everyone spinning a yarn for this to work.
"That's clever, that is. Good on ye, lass. If it don't start a mutiny, it'll definitely make for a spooked crew. Much as I'd like to lend a hand, I'll stick to me strong points, aye?" He says with an idle smirk as the polishes off his dinner. "Speakin' of, I think I'll try me hand at that hog lob. See if I can't turn these coppers into something bigger. 'Scuse me, mates."
With that, the half-giant is off to see how well he does at hurling a hog. Or however these pirates play the game.
Esmarelda laid on the deck next to her friends, her mind racing thought ideas on what she could do in order to get Rosie's fiddle from Grok. Even if she is superstitious, I don't know if I can sell a story to her. I mean I couldn't get her to agree to anything today, how would I be able to sell a story of some superstition? She wondered as she rubbed her temples. Finally she gave a heavy sigh before she rolled over and got up. She watched as Gall walked off, realizing she had been ignoring the group's conversation the whole time. She looked to Harmony and Cueta, the two who remained. "What we talking about? Sorry, I've had a lot on my mind tonight..." She said as she sat down close to Harmony. "Is Harmony going to tell another story?" She asked as she smiled at the woman she was now next to.
Cueta yawned. As a good a storyteller as Harmony is, I may have to bow out of one tonight. Still, something was on Esmarelda's mind. So she'd stay up a bit more. "What's bothering you, mate? Other than being enslaved on this gods damned ship, of course."
Thanks to Cueta's yawn, Esmarelda could not help but do the same. "Don't do that... Damn...You have me doing it now." She said before Cueta asked her question. "Huh? Oh, it's Grok and Rosie... Rosie bought my kapenia from Grok and when I asked to get it back she said she'd only give it back if I had five gold to pay for it. Then went on about Grok still having her fiddle. I was able to get her to agree to a trade: my kapenia for her fiddle. But I couldn't seem to strike a deal with Grok today and she wants ten time what Rosie paid for my kapenia!" She explained.
"Grok would be willing to trade the fiddle for something but I've nothing to trade... Not to mention I don't know Grok well enough to even know what she'd want to trade for. The only thing I could think of outside of just getting to know her is to lie and say it's haunted. But I don't talk to people well unless I'm telling them to get lost." She informed them as she rested her head on her fist, elbow firmly placed on her knee.
"I could tell her it is cursed, though to be honest I don't really want to lie to her. Unlike Scourge and Plugg, Grok has been fair and maybe even nice if we got to know her more." She said. With how few friends they had on this ship she didn't need to make their little group another enemy. Plus she meant what she had said! She did have some level of respect for the half-orc. Maybe I should do that! Just befriend her! Even if it doesn't get me the fiddle, our group having the quartermaster as a friend could really help. As Esmarelda's mind worked she couldn't help but begin to smile.
"I've got that ax I found in the bilges, and it is a nice one. I'll give it to you and you could trade that for your scarf - if you can get my bow, arrows, and boarding pike in the trade as well. I'll be in the bilges again tomorrow, if Plugg follows through on his threat - just come and visit and I'll get you the axe."
Cueta yawns again and stands, stretching. "For now though, shop's closed and I'm beat. Off to bed."
Esmarelda smiled happily at Cueta. "You are a good friend." She told her as she gave a nod. "I will come down and get it as soon as my task tomorrow will allow. Hopefully it is something easy, I would hate to be a runner again..."
She looked to Harmony. "If you plan on telling another story tonight then I will be sad to miss it, but Cueta seems to have the right idea. I am far more warn out then I thought I was." She told her. Esmarelda gave another yawn as she stood up. She said her good-nights to Harmony, Gall, and Artevious then went below deck to climb into her hammock.
Crimson Cogward was a bit of a quiet bloke who kept his eye on any potential brawl outbreaks, and on a ship like this, there was a lot to keep track of. He was pretty hush hush about his own story, but Artevious manages to get him to admit he had actually volunteered to join the crew. It was a rather one sided conversation, with Artevious taking the lead and Crimson Cogward giving short replies. But Artevious eventually found his weak spot; a good fight. "Yeh mate, I seen Grok hand over that cutlass of yours. Ya know how to use it any? I prefer a good fist fight myself. Nothing like the feel of a jaw crackin' under ya knuckles!"
I must admit that I did not know that feel, but I laughed along with Cogward nonetheless. "A pugilist! Jolly good! I must profess to some skill with the cutlass, considering how much I practice with it. I prefer it to the other weapons that require brute force, since fighting on the deck of a ship, you have to be light on your feet!"
With the beginnings of a new friendship forged, I realized I'd been neglecting some of the others of the crew. I strode belowdecks, and saw that Esmarelda, Cueta and Gall were in the midst of a discussion.
I sat down and rubbed my muscles, fearing I may be a bit sore in the morning thanks to working the mainsail all day. But it was all in all a good feeling. Unfortunately, these other chaps didn't appear to be having such a good time.
"Why the long faces, friends? It's been a rough go, true, but I'd say things are looking up. I've made a few more friends on this ship, and I see that even our belongings are finding their way back into our hands. Besides, the way Harrigan, Plugg and Scourge treats his crew, they'll all jump ship next time we're in port! I myself will have a tough time deciding whether to stay or try my luck signing onto a better one."
Esmarelda noticed Artevious's discomfort, when her brother would come back from sailing with her father he did the same thing. She gave a small laugh as she shook her head. "Does anything put a damper on your spirits?" She asked. "The rigging must be treating you well, though with the way you just rubbed your muscles I may be wrong." She shrugged before finally answering his question.
"Oh it does seem things are looking up, but we still have to deal with Plugg and Scourge. Wait... our belongings I forgot to ask about that. Have any of you gotten something of yours?" She asked as she looked around. "I mean this morning when I opened my locker to check on my spellbook, my spell pouch was there. Did any of you do that?" She asked quietly.
The Hog Lob, unfortunately, is not played with real hogs so much as a hog's skin wrapped around a heavy ball. The object of the game is to get the 'hog' further than the other participants.
Competing against Gall this evening is 'Badger' Medlar. She's got a bit of a crazed look to her, but otherwise has caused you no problems yet. 'Badger' Medlar watches as Gall gets his ball a good distance across the deck, then steps up for her own turn.
For a moment, she thinks her ball is going to make it, but it falls short. She gives Gall a real stink eye before handing over her money to him.
Cueta snorts. "Poisson, do you think they're going to let you leave? That isn't how press-ganging works."
Then Esmarelda asks about their belongings, and Cueta stands to make her exit, claiming tiredness. In truth, she'd not thought to look in her locker, having had anything taken from her.
At her berth, Cueta skeptically flings her locker open, surprised to find her boarding pike, as if it had been resting there all along. A smile crosses Cueta's face, wide and toothy.
Bad things were going to happen to bad people.
Gall returns to the group several minutes later with a broad grin and a handful of coins, jingling all the way. Settling down at their communal table, he makes a quick count of the lot of it with a nod to Cueta as she steps out. Not enough to get his things back yet, but certainly a good haul for the moment. More than double what he had wagered in the first place. He looks up to the group again as he slides the coins off the table and into a pocket, tuning into the conversation right at the end of Esmarelda's question.
"Weren't me, lass. I found me glove in that locker this mornin', as well. I reckon we've got ourselves a friend or an admirer on board. Best keep them things outta sight, though, lest somebody think we're stealin' it all," Gall suggests as he gestures across the table to the magus. Given that he cannot see any such spell pouch on her, he surmises that she has already taken such measures. "That'll leave two of us with a bit in the way of weapons and another with spells. You got anything what's good in a fight, Harmony?"
I pondered for a moment about Cueta's words. "That doesn't make very much sense at all. It's the pirate way to revel in the loot and celebrate with the crew when the ship puts into port." I could scarcely believe that such a part of the pirate life would be denied us.
As to the mystery of our belongings being returned to us, I did have a theory as to that. But because the speculation led me to think that our clandestine benefactor may wish to remain anonymous. "It may be the doings of someone who appreciates the entertainment we have been able to provide. I have promised a great many more tales of my father. Last night, I had them eating out of my hand, and Harmony similarly had them entranced. I expect tomorrow night I will read to them another selection. We shall see if that continues to provide us with favor."
"Violence isn't really my thing, Gall", Harmony replies with a shake of her head to the half-giant's question. "I do know a little bit of magic, but not really the sort of stuff that would be useful in a fight. I've lived most of my life by the credo of, if a fight starts, you've already lost -- the best way to getting what you want is avoiding fights entirely." Which might sound a little cowardly to many. But it's just the way she is. "It also keeps your clothes and nails intact", she mumbles under her breath.
"I did find a piece of armor in my chest, though", she contributes as others share their own findings as well. "Either they're preparing us for a frame job, or somebody's being nice to us. I'm guessing the latter, since if they wanted to frame us, they wouldn't have given us all day to get rid of the items." She sighs a little, shoulders sagging from exhaustion. Briefly, she glances at what Artevious is saying, and then just rolls her eyes without commentary, shaking her head a little bit.
Gall grunts in consideration at Harmony's comment, mentally marking her down as some sort of bizarre pacifist. Even if she is not much help in a fight, she is quite the boon outside of one, so he cannot find fault there. Perhaps she is simply being modest. Regardless, he casts a glance across to Artevious and considers for a moment trying to force some sense into the man. Rather quickly, he finds himself thinking better of it and gives a slight shake of his head to clear it of such ideas. No amount of doing on his part was likely to break the swashbuckler out of whatever delusion he was entertaining.
"That's all right, lass," he replies belatedly to Harmony, "we'll keep ye well covered and in good hands if it comes to that. Just somethin' to keep in mind. That said, I reckon Cueta's got the right idea. Give a shout if the lot of ye need something."
Pushing himself up from his seat, he ambles off toward the lower deck with a slight jingle in his step.
Harmony is ready for bed too, but as the group prepares to disband, she says a few more words before calling it a day. She waits until just the recent pressgangees are reasonably alone, and then speaks quietly."Putting aside our personal preferences for how to specifically handle this situation, at the very least I like to think that all of us would, on a general level, like to live. And I am telling you now, we can do it. No matter the adversity on board this ship, I believe that if we just watch each others' backs, we will be able to pull through. We all have different skills and different approaches to things, and instead of tearing us apart, I am certain that it will be a strength in the coming days. The Wormwood is doubtless going to be a personal hell for many of us, but grit teeth and hang in there. Keep each other alive. And things will, absolutely *will* get better. This I promise you."
Emarelda watched as Gall left them, her mind still lingered on the question of who was getting them their belongs but she forced herself to set it aside. She smiled at Harmony and Artevious as she said "Well spoken Harmony. I believe you are right and I think we should follow their lead, and head to bed. Who knows what tomorrow will bring." She stood as well and headed to her hammock. Tomorrow looked promising after all, she may just be able to get back their belongs from Grok and her kapenia from Rosie! Yes it seemed little would dampen her spirits right now, tomorrow was just too promising.
You awake the next morning feeling refreshed. Bright eyed, bushy tailed and what not. Clouds on the horizon threaten rain later in the day, but for the time being the sun shines on the decks of the Wormwood. Scourge is back on his feet after a good treatment from the Stitchman and a day of rest. But his mood seems ten times more bitter and angry than ever before. Even Plugg seems a bit wary of his temper.
"There ye are, ye filthy Bilge rats!" Scourge scowled as he spotted the lot of you. "There be somethin' in the bilges, and ye all will be lookin' for it! Even you two!" He points to both Artevious and Gall. "Ye'll both be down there with 'em today!"
As you head back down below decks, you hear whispers of young Jack Scrimshaw down there earlier. Apparently he's been spouting that it was haunted and the ghost of Jakes Magpie bit his leg. Ghost are infesting the Bilge waters!
Gall awakes and slides out of his hammock, stretching to work out the kinks that may hAve developed while he slept. He quickly takes stock of his surroundings and belongings before heading up on deck to see what the day holds. Surprisingly, no cooking or butchering today. Apparently they are to be ferreting out ghosts in the Bilges. As a reasonable, logical person, the half-giant isn't sure he believes in ghosts on ships. But as a sailor, he knows well that superstitions are always rooted in truth, so it is better to take this seriously. More likely, Cueta's plan has actually started to take and there is something that spooked Mr. Scrimshaw. It is with his jaw set in grim determination that he heads down to complete today's activities with the others. He does his best to get himself down through the door to the Bilges first, just in cas anything attempts to leap out at them. "Cook, butcher, and now ghost hunter. At least this life ain't boring, huh?"
Cueta grins as she makes her way below decks. Perhaps Plugg had believed Cueta after all, and made his way down to the bilges last night to find her scrawling on the wall. It was possible that Plugg was more afraid than he was letting on, and that Cueta's "ghost" had the first mate spooked enough to send all of them to the bilges. They could spend the time to plan further how to best sow discord among the crew.
When Cueta hears that Scrimshaw was bit, she's genuinely surprised - and a bit dismayed. There really is something in the bilges? There can't be! Making her way to Jack, she looks the boy over thoroughly, looking for signs of a wound. "You were bit in the bilges? Show me! Did you see the ghost that bit you?"
Turning to the others, she says, "If you've got a weapon, get it."
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Cueta follows after Gall, ready to sprint to her hiding place at the first sign of trouble to get the axe. Not that it would likely help if there really was a ghost.
"Gall the Ghost Hunter," the Mwangi says, her voice trailing off as she scans the bilges for any threats.
It was a strange turn of events, that regardless of my fine showing in the rigging these past few days, that I was then called upon to assist in ferreting out a mystery in the bilges. Still, it would give me a chance to explore more of the Wormwood and assist the other fellows and ladies with whom my lot is thrown.
"Pirate ghosts!" I remarked as I made sure my trusty cutlass was secure on my side. "Or, perhaps, ghostly pirates! There may be a difference, although I'm entirely unsure of what it may be."
I moved with the rest of the group below decks. "Jack is a decent sort, so I don't think he's thrown in with Plugg and Scourge to lead us on a fruitless chase. I wonder what he's encountered?"
Esmarelda seemed to wake in a very good mood. She got up humming a rather cheerful tune, checking her locker to see if anything else was added. When she found nothing had been added she shrugged and headed up to the top deck. Oddly enough though, when Scourge ordered them to the bilges she couldn't help but smile. Right where I wish to be. She thought as turned and headed back down.
While Cueta and Gall spoke to the others, Esmarelda went to her locker and retrieved her spell component pouch. After all if there was going to be combat she would need it. As the group went by to head down into the bilges, Esmarelda fell in line. "What are the rest of us? Chopped liver?" She asked with a smirk as Cueta made a comment to Gall.
When Artevious spoke of Jack Esmarelda gave him a sideways glance. "Really? Think he'd rather throw his lot in with us?" She asked.