Wiping her hand across her brow, Cueta grimaces, suddenly aware of just how rank she smells. If you can smell yourself, others could smell you already.
"Let's go check in with our masters."
Esmarelda gave a nod as she took Artevious's hand. "Such a gentleman." She said giving him a alluring smiling. Though her focus changed when Cueta began to talk. "Ah Cueta you are a god sent!" Esmarelda said joyfully as she took the axe from her with her free hand. She did her best to remember all of Cueta's items.
She couldn't help but smile at Gull as he took care of a poor creature. "Lets just hope we can keep the poor thing from the rest of the of the crew. I don't think many others will be as kind to it as we have been." She warned her friends just before Cueta commented about checking in with their masters. She nodded in agreement with their friend, only to stop mid nod. That wasn't a good idea... She thought, though thinking was slowly becoming a bit painful. "Aye, I think the heat down here is beginning to get to me. Hopefully it doesn't get to our new friend too." She said as she followed her friends up and out.
Cueta was looking forward to a day out of the bilges when Plugg's words came back to her, the words about how she'd be in the bilges until she figured them out. Scowling, she turns around and makes her way back down. "I'll be here if anyone needs me. Esmarelda, let me know how it goes with Grok."
The sailor works diligently the rest of the day, keeping an eye on the one live rat, her pike never far from her reach, bailing bilge, scrubbing the walls, and so on. Despite the heat, the humidity, and the fight that morning, by the afternoon Cueta thinks she's mastered the art of the worst work on the Wormwood. If nothing else, the sheer stench of three straight days covered in bilge should keep Plugg at bay.
"Don't ye fret over that wee thing, aye? I'll see to it. Maybe we ought to have Harmony be the one what talks to Plugg, seein' as she's got a way with words and all. The rest of us can hold them dead rats or somethin'," Gall suggests as he makes his way up several flights of stairs to the main deck.
Sweat pours from every inch of the half-giant and he hooks a finger into the collar of his tunic to tug it away from his neck. More than anything else, he knows he does not want to be the one to report much of anything to Plugg. Vile little wretch.
"If you plan on talking with Grok, I've discovered that she likes her rum. Also, she likes the stories that Harmony and I have provided to the crew. I had intended to again regale our pirate brethren of further adventures of my father this evening. Hopefully, that news will put Grok in the best of spirits."
I was glad to be out of the bilges finally. It was dreadfully hot down there, though I managed to weather it well enough to complete the task at hand.
I noticed Esmarelda making eyes at me. I was of course none too surprised; it was the lot of the dashing pirate to catch the attention of the comely lasses he meets along the way on his journeys. I smiled back, but noticed the stifling heat had got the better of her. She was flushed -- and not in the good way.
All in all, with the heat and the reeking waters that have soaked us thoroughly, there were better times for further flirtation. The novels and stories never really manage to convey the stink of certain realities of a ship.
Anyone looking for Plugg or Scourge can easily find them on the main deck, both conversing together in hushed tones between verbal lashings at anyone they didn't favor in one way or another. Hard workers, lazy workers... it didn't seem to matter to the pair of them. They yelled at those they disliked equally and it seemed they disliked most everyone.
A few of the more curious of the crew stop the group to ask if there was really a violent poltergeist in the bilges.
Harmony follows Gall's suggestion and takes care of reporting the event to Plugg and Scourge. With a little bit of embellishment. While still in the bilges, she carves the name 'Jakes' into the flesh of the rat on the inside, in one of the cuts opened by a weapon. Then, going up, she tosses the rat carcass to Scourge and Plugg's feet, leaving it there, and pointedly *not* mentioning anything about the carving, as if she knew nothing of it. "Sir, crewman Leading reporting from the bilges! I'm pleased to inform that any situation there has been resolved. As far as we could tell, the issue was only a minor vermin infestation." She then goes on to deliver a report about the altercation, accurately reporting that the group went to the bilges and slew a bunch of dire rats. "A bunch of filthy little rats, but we took care of them all. There shold be no further concern from anything in the bilges." She reassures the crew that there was no such thing as a poltergeist belowdecks, and instead hopes that they will discover the carving in the rat's flesh on their own. "Any and all rumors of anything supernatural belowdecks seems just superstitious sailor talk." She makes no mention of the sick dire rat that Gall took with it, intent on keeping it a secret for as long as they can. The ultimate goal in her play is to promote a little bit of panic in the crew, while looking completely not responsible for it.
Plugg and Scourge quickly cease their conversation as the lot of you approach. They listen to what was going on down in the bilges. Neither of them seem impressed and they quickly bark out orders for you to see to your tasks for the rest of the day.
high = sober, low = inebriated
As you all walk away to do your respective tasks, you hear Plugg give a bit of a yelp followed by a splash. Anyone who looks behind them can see the rat is gone, presumably just tossed overboard. Throughout the day, others question you about what was really in the bilges, and the stories Harmony spins about battling over-sized rats captures the attentions of more than a few members of the crew. But there's also another whisper going around; the rats were cursed by the ghost of Jakes himself.
The half-giant snorts in amusement at Plugg's yelp, but does not bother to look over his shoulder as he moves off to the kitchen. What he finds is a plastered cook and quite a bit of work that still needs to be done. Fortunately, there is plenty of rum to go around between FIshguts and his assistant, so the cooking goes quickly. Whether it goes well is another story entirely.
Despite thoroughly enjoying carousing with Fishguts, very little in the way of decent food actually gets made. The pair are far too drunk by the end of the day to even realize that they have burned the chicken to a crisp, to say nothing of the heaping pile of seasoning atop the charred meat. Gall makes a token effort to fix things by spreading the herbs and spices around, but it is far too late now. Dinner is ruined. At least they had a good time making it?
When dinner rolls around, even a hammered Gall does not forget to take a bit of his own meal with him down to the bilges. Even if no one else enjoys the meal, their new friend likely will.
My general elation at a successful morning of rodent-slaying did not last throughout the rest of the day. I couldn't quite rightly explain it, but the day's rope work absolutely confounded me. Perhaps it had been the heat of the bilges, or the lingering stench in my clothes, but I was decidedly off my game.
What was worse, I had any number of shipmates coming up to me and asking what I had seen in the bilges. While I proudly stated that we had slain a large number of oversized vermin, they didn't seem all too satisfied about my answer. Furthermore, one look at my shoddy rope work and I distinctly heard the muttered word, "curse," as folks walked away.
"But we.... never mind." Esmarelda started as she looked at her friends, that stopped her from continuing. "Aye sir, right to work." She said with a nod while shoving her axe in her belt before turning to get to work. When she heard Plugg's yelp she couldn't help but giggle to herself, though she did not dare look behind her to give away what she did. Man doesn't like rats, good to know. She thought as she made her way to her station for the day.
Sewing sails?! I never learned to sew... She thought as she got a hold of a needle before climbing the rigging to the sails getting to work. Though she kept pausing to speak to those who came to her for information of what happened down in the bilges. While she herself said little, she did inform them that Harmony and Artevious would have better stories before getting back to work. "Maybe I should have paid more attention to mother's lessons..." She said to herself as she looked at her rather pitiful work. "I have no idea if I made this better or worse."
After dumping the rat on Scourge and Plugg, Harmony walks away, hands briefly touching up her hair to make sure it is all in place, then smoothing down her clothes to remove what wrinkles she can. Nothing she can do about the sweat-matted spots from the hot, humid bilges. But whatever she can do to make herself look good, she will. Once her appearance is fixed up, she puts on a smile, I won't let you bastards see how much I hate this, and gets to work. Today, she is doing odd fixit jobs, sewing torn fabrics, tightening the screws and administering oil on squeaky doors, plugging a cracked water barrel, and what not.
To even her own surprise, she does a wonderful job at these things despite their variety, many of them requiring completely different skillsets from the others, yet she manages to improvise, using things she's learned from her broad job history, and adding a healthy dash of common sense. Whoa, I didn't expect that to actually work. I wonder if it's going to stay together or what? She thunks the item she just repaired a few times to see if it falls apart, and when it seems to sturdily enough stay in one piece, she lifts her eyebrows, nodding to herself in deep thought. Not bad!
The rest of your days progress with relative ease, even if most of you do find yourselves blundering about. At least no one seems to mind, everyine is just content to here the tales from the bilges. Well, everyone except Scourge who seems almost happy about the days failures.
Come bloody hour, Artevious, Esmarelda, Gall, and even the inebriated Fishguts are called to the mast for lashings.
Esmarelda raised her shirt once again before they bound her to the mast for her lashings. The first one bit deep and sent her head spinning. Her open hands turned to fists as she readied herself to the next lash. With the heat from the bilges and the lashing she just took she wasn't sure if she could take the next one. When it did come biting into her flesh what she had feared began to happen. Her vision began to darken as she started losing her senses, then just before they untied her she blacked out and slumped down against the mast.
When they did cut her free from her bindings she clasped on the deck. She was out cold, but still breathing thankfully.
Gall steps up for his lashings next and moves to scoop Esmarelda up off of the deck before he sheds his shirt. Better that she be carted off to the side where the other three can look after her in the meantime. Any of the rest of the crew that try to step up and claim that they will take care of the young woman get a stern stare that promises grievous harm. He sets her down at Cueta's feet and gestures for her to do what she can, before he turns to head back to the mast again.
On the way, he hauls his loose tunic over his head and lets the mountain of muscle on display speak for whether he will make good on his unspoken promise. Drunk as he is, the lashes do not hurt nearly as much as he expects them to and he feels just a bit thankful for that. Even so, a wince colors his features as he shrugs back into his shirt and makes his way back to the group, apologizing to Fishguts once there.
My hopes to avoid the lash were not bore out. Somehow, I never made Scourge happier than by disappointing him. It was quite perverse, come to think about it.
I took my two strokes of the whip for my shoddy rope work and again resolved to not be whipped again. In stalwart defiance of the punishment, I maintained my good cheer, though. I selected a few scintillating chapters of Le Pirate de Poisson: Poisson Strikes First for the evening's entertainment.
As I read the harrowing escapade of my father being trapped upon a rope bridge above a deep ravine filled with hungry river lizards, I knew my adventures were only beginning.
Cueta grimaces as she arrives top-deck to see her friends in line for the Bloody Hour's lashings. What could they have said to Scourge and Plugg to draw their hatred today? Well, Gall was obviously drunk, as was the cook - Fishface or whatever his name was. So dinner, it might be fit for the rat. But the others?
Esmarelda was the first to get her lashings, and the poor girl went straight under. Cueta stepped forward, but Gall got there first and scooped the girl up, dropping her at Cueta's feet. Knuckles bared, the Mwangi stared down anyone that got too close, her stare saying eveything that needed to be said, while Gall was tied to the mast next.
-------------------
That night, after Artevious's story, Cueta stood on her chair and yelled to quiet the crowd. "Listen up, jerks! Yeah you, Yellow-bellied Jape, and you too Chumlet. All of yous, really, I got a story to tell. And you dummies are going to listen to it, and you're going to like it! It was a dark and stormy night. No, no it wasn't. It was just dark, but was the morning. Not, that's not right either..."
Cueta found herself much more nervous than she thought she would be. Turns out, the way that Harmony and Artevious could capture a crowd, hold their attention, and relate something - a truth or feeling about their one real shared condition, that of life itself?
Yeah, that was really fookin' hard. Cueta lost the crowd before she even set the scene.
As dinner comes and goes, Gall is sure to feed their new rat friend before he goes about the typical evening activity of finding the nearest option for gambling. Seeing as he was successful last time with the hog lob, he figures he may as well give it another effort. With his buzz dying down, it is probably best to get going on the lead ingot hurling sooner rather than later.
He does keep an eye on the rest of the group, giving a smile at Artevious's story and a wince at Cueta's attempt to do the same. That one did not go over well. Maybe next time she would fare better.
The ever charming Maheem, who everyone likely recognizes at this point, does take a step forward just as Gall sweeps Esmarelda off the floor. The lecherous look in his eye says it all, but the glare from Gall is enough to force him back a step. He scowls at the half-giant until the first lash comes down at which point he whoops and jeers enthusiastically.
Fishguts, even drunker than Gall, slurs out some manner of words that generally indicate that it isn't Gall's fault and not to worry. You think, anyways. Scourge seems to ease up on his whipping anyways, leaving Fishguts only minimally injured.
With Gall's winning streak, it's a little tougher to find people willing to try their own luck against his. Though the Hog Lob is hardly about luck so much as muscle and leverage. He eventuall finds a willing competitor in Grok herself!
The attempt was doomed from the start! Grok just couldn't compete with the hulking half-giant. She pats Gall on the arm. "Ya keep ol' Fishguts outta trouble, alright? I know he can be a handful when he drinkin', but ya gotta help him next time, ya hear?" Her tone carries a sincere concern for the cook and she gives Gall one last pat before leaving him to collect his winnings.
Being first up to the mast, Artevious seemed to have gotten the strongest arm in the evening's lashings. The braided leather straps cut through his skin, exposing the sensitive flesh underneath. Several members of the crew cringe at each crack, but offer silent reassuring smiles and gestures. It would seem Artevious is becoming quite well liked on the Wormwood, for what that's worth!
Artevious' mother's stories and his expressive readings to the crew are once again met with enthusiastic ears. Anticipation is in the eyes of everyone at every twist in the plot and emotions swing as the story takes a hold of their imaginations. It seems Artevious is growing quite a dedicated following for his mother and her writing. "I'll have to find a copy for myself!" exclaimed Conchobhar as he comes up to shake Artevious' hand for the fourth time this evening. "Splendid telling! Splendid! Why I thought I was there battling the dangers myself!" Several other's gathered nearby nod along with Conchobhar's words, echoing his desire to get their hands on a copy of the books themselves, though Artevious suspects those fellows may not actually be able to read them if they did.
Cueta sees as Maheem makes a move to scoop Esmarelda up himself, but is quickly deterred by Gall's baleful glare. He keeps shooting glances to where Cueta keeps vigil over Esmarelda, a look of anger and bitterness coloring his features, though he holds his place seeing that Cueta's stare is just as intimidating as Gall's.
Later in the evening during Cueta's attempts to tell a story to the crew, she manages to get everyone's attention when she starts yelling out insults. A few of the crew laugh openly at the expense of the two called out by name. "Yeah, Chumlet! This'll be the only woman payin' ye any mind this year!" Several guffaws chain off and a few other rude comments are exchanged, but the attention Cueta had managed to rouse doesn't last long. It seems slinging insults is more interesting than listening to Cueta stammer over her words in an attempts to form a coherent setting.
Part way through the evening, you're approached again by Mila Quinn, the Besmaran cleric who had wrangled up some key pieces of equipment for you on your first day.
"I didn't want to do nothing before coming to speak with you all. You all seem to have grown close. That's good; strength in numbers and loyalty. I'd like to help your friend out. Esmarelda? I can do a touch of healing, get her back on her feet so she can avoid any grabbing hands who might try to take advantage, you know?"
Any attempts to discern her motivations come up clean. it would seem she's sincerely interested in aiding your unconscious companion.
Harmony gives a nod of her head to Quinn, taking a step back to -- for her own part -- allow the cleric to heal Esmarelda, although others might still stand in the way if they choose. "I'm starting to get real sick and tired of these stupid lashings", she says although she's been one of those who's gotten off the easiest, not being lashed at all today and taking a fairly easy lashing the other day. One can only imagine what the others might be feeling by this point. "I wish we could just steal or break the whip, but I'm sure it's not the only one on the ship, so they'd just get another one." She starts cooking up a tale inside her head, something that might do even a little bit to discourage the whippings.
"There was this pirate", she tells the crew later, after night has fallen and the only light shed is by the lanterns hanging in the wind. "Who found a magic whip. It was a pretty awesome magic whip, he was able to grab onto things with it, like onto ledges, outcroppings or whatever, he could swing on it like an adventuring archaeologist --" If there are any vacant stares among the pirates who might not know such a profession, she just waves it away with a brief, "doesn't matter", and then just goes on, describing a couple of harrowing adventures the whip-wielding pirate went on, from rescuing a Vudrani princess from the den of an ancient, undead cyclops, to the daring defeat of a Rahadoumi corsair on a center-deck duel in the middle of a hurricane.
"Then he found out that the whip talked", she says, and holds a little pause for effect. "The legend doesn't say if it spoke to him only, or if others heard the words as well, but we do know that at least the wielder of the whip heard it, and heard it clear. 'Feed me, and you shall have power'", she whispers in as eerie voice as she can. "The pirate had been using the whip on his enemies before, but now did so with renewed vigor. He whipped his enemies harder than he needed to, feeding the whip with their blood, even after they went down. As he did so, he could feel his male potency grow as he sapped the energy of his victims. Some of the victims, it is told, could not perform for *years* afterwards." She leaves that lingering in the air for a few moments.
"But the pirate himself, he grew more virile and energetic by the month, entertaining many beautiful women. Until one day, he had not lashed anyone for a week, he found that all of his ability had disappeared. He no longer had even that which he used to have before encountering the whip. 'Whip, whip, why have you forsaken me!' the pirate cried out in desperation, only the receive the reply which had by then become well familiar to him. 'Feed me, and you shall have power'. It was then that the pirate conceived of a cunning plan. Rather than having to risk himself in battle every day to feed his whip against enemies, he would imprison one of his friends and whip him every day, draining the friend's male energy for his own benefit. This worked for about a month or so."
"It turned out that every day, the whip needed to be fed more in order to provide the same amount of potency to the wielder. And so the pirate began imprisoning more and more people, until he had a veritable dungeon of people, haggard, drained, in shackles, shades of humanity barely clinging to life, all their energy sapped to satisfy his desire to perform. It was then that one of his lovers found out the source of his inexhaustible ability. He had just come up from the dungeons, refreshed and bursting with energy, when she confronted him. The two struggled, and he tried to force himself upon her", Harmony tells with wild eyes, acting out a little bit of a struggle-like body language, "she managed to flip him over her -- and there was a window right there. He plummeted into the dark night, falling two hundred feet to crash to the rocks and surf below. A search party rushed down the cliffs, to find his body broken and dead, but one thing disturbed them far more than that. For between the dead pirate's legs was a writhing mass of maggots feasting upon flesh that, by the looks of it, had been dead for a long time. 'It wasn't like that!' cried the woman who had thrown the pirate out the window. For as long as the pirate still had the whip in his possession, it had provided life energy to his parts. But upon the fall, he had lost it, and all the life energy provided over the years had gone with it, leaving a rotted husk. The search party looked and looked, but no one could ever find the whip again. It must have floated off on the waves, and where it would next be seen, no one would know."
"Such is the tale of the Whip of Calen Torn. Did you like it?"
"Ya keep ol' Fishguts outta trouble, alright? I know he can be a handful when he drinkin', but ya gotta help him next time, ya hear?"
"Aye, of course I will. I tried apologizin' to the poor sod for gettin' him into this mess, but he weren't hearin' none of it. I'll keep a weather eye on him from now on, though, lass. Ye have my word," Gall assures Grok with every ounce of sincerity he has in him. He may be drunk, but he likes to think that he takes care of those close to him. Not that he has been doing a spectacular job of that lately. With a weary smile and a nod to Grok, he quietly collects his coin and makes his way back to the rest of the group.
He makes idle small talk for a few moments about their new four-legged friend, but falls silent on Mila's approach. Pursing his lips at her offer, he reluctantly nods and pushes himself up from his seat. "Probably for the best that she get a wee bit of help. I'll come with ye, make sure nothin' goes belly-up. Unless one of ye lot want to be supervisin' instead?" He asks Harmony, Cueta, and Artevious.
Cueta stares Maheem down, flexing her wrists and opening and closing her fists any time she sees the man's attention fixed on Esmarelda. That one will get his own spot in Besmara's Chest, if I have anything to say about it.
------------------
After the crowd turns its attention from Cueta, the woman sits glumly on a barrel, silently berating herself for her sudden case of the nerves. She'd never had so much as a tremor when insulting someone or throwing a punch, but standing up in front of a crowd and trying to give them something beautiful? It was a skill Cueta desperately wanted.
Then Harmony stands and delivers yet another rousing tale, and Cueta finds herself filled with both admiration and jealousy. Such a silver voice! Such a calm, confident delivery! And then there's you girl, stammering over your words, not even sure how to start your tale. The only good thing to come off your lips are insults...
Happily, Mila Quinn approaches and Cueta shrugs off her self-doubt. With an inward groan, the Mwangi realizes she could have asked for Besmara's blessing to heal Esmaralda's lashes - it had, after all, worked for the rat's bite. Perhaps I should see what this Quinn could do.
Hopping off the barrel, Cueta nods to Gall. "I'd like to come too. How do you ken to heal our friend, Quinn?"
I was certainly pleased that so many of the crew enjoyed the latest excerpt of my father's adventures, but I was certainly abashed by the most skillful recounting of Harmony's harrowing tale of the whip. I certainly felt some worry on my behalf, considering that I had earlier fallen under the lash. But, I daresay that the gruesome fate of the lash's wielder would be more concerning.
When Mila made her further acquaintance, I nodded in agreement. "That's most considerate, I must say!" It's true that the poor lass had been having a rough go thus far, despite my efforts to buoy her spirits. "Milady, do as you feel necessary to make sure her honor is protected, and do not hesitate to call upon me if needed," I told her.
When Maheem earlier approached Esmarelda, Harmony had also been ready to act, but thanks to Gall, no action was necessary. She doesn't glare at Maheem, but does think about the man for a while. Perhaps I should try to draw his attention for the medium term. Maybe flirt with him a little. Try to get his attention away from Esmarelda. The girl doesn't need any of this. Half tempted to get him in bed and then slit his throat, but that's a rather impractical fantasy. Not only don't I want to deal with a keelhauling, but I'm a rather firm believer in helping Esmarelda carry out her own revenge instead. Ah well.
After the lashings have been dealt out, and Harmony has told her tale of the whip to the crew, she withdraws a little bit, finding a quiet corner of the decks, to be alone at around the same time as Quinn is offering to treat Esmarelda. This is the first night that I haven't felt completely exhausted. And I must admit, the sea itself is nice to be on again. I just wish it didn't have to be enslaved to vile reprobates such as these. She watches out into the starlit darkness a little wistfully, wondering how her family back in Port Peril is dealing with her disappearance. The wind blows over her skin and in her hair, and she closes her eyes for a moment to relish the sensation.
One way or another, this state of things cannot go on. Escape seems like the best route to pursue. Despite Cueta's thirst for revenge, I don't believe we can take on the leaders of this little slave ship and prevail. Even if I could incite half the crew to our side... She shakes her head and frowns. Even so, the likes of Harrigan, Plugg and Scourge... I think it's just too much to bite off. Running is the smart play. We'll have to make port someday, and I'd better have a plan ready for that day. Having sunk deep into her serious thoughts, her expression briefly betrays some distress, until she snaps out of her reverie, and puts a smile back onto her face again. Touches up her hair and clothes. Slips off the railing, and makes her way to rejoin the crew again.
"How is Esmarelda?" Harmony asks, making her way back to her group after enough time has passed for Quinn to do whatever she was going to do.
Mila Quinn allows herself to be lead off along with the others to tend to Esmarelda. "Pray to Besmara and hope she sees me fit enough to loan me the power to aid her," she explains to Cueta. Once settled beside the unconscious woman, she takes Esmarelda's chin in her hand and gives her a once over, checking for signs of any concussions from collapsing or other ill effects.
"Just fatigued and pushed beyond her physical limits," she mumbled, partially to the group but mostly to herself. "A little rest would be enough, but let's expedite that."
She utters a prayer to the Pirate Queen and places a hand upon Esmarelda's head. A soft light the color of clear ocean shallows surrounds Esmarelda. "Ought to do it. I'd let her rest though."
Mila lingers to answer any questions or conversational topics before taig her leave to hit her own bunk for the night.
Cueta lingers after Quinn calls her blessing. She's unsure of just how to proceed, as Mila seems to be, for lack of a better word, trained. Both in healing, and the doctrine of the Pirate Queen. Ah, fook it. Just tell her, girl.
"I was called by Besmara, just a month or so ago. Was on The Golden Pegasus, maybe you heard, she was sunk by a kraken. Was the only survivor. And I came eyeballs to eyeball with the creature. It had me and was going to lock me in Besmara's Chest. And in that moment, like a lot of our people, I got really religious."
"But here's the thing. Besmara listened. The kraken let me go, and The Wasp's Tail picked me up, floating with my locker, three days later. Then, when she landed at Port Peril, I left The Wasp's Tail and vowed never to set foot on a ship again. And then the first thing I do on dry land is go to The Formidably Maid and well, we all know how that turned out."
"Besmara wants me on this ship, I'm sure of it. I thought it was to put Maheem, and Jape, and Plugg and Scourge and even Harrigan into Besmara's Chest. But now I don't know. Perhaps I'm here to meet you. Because, to be honest, while I paid Besmara tribute every now and then, until the kraken, I was never devout. I know little of Besmara's doctrine, almost none of her prayers. Could I... study with you, at night, when you have the time?"
"There's another thing. The Pirate Queen talks to me. Its like these whispers, almost finger-like, massaging the back of my mind. Sometimes, they're pleasurable, sometimes painful. Most of the time, I don't understand her, but every now and then, she tells me things. Like what you just did for Esmarelda - I did that this morning, after our fight in the bilges."
Cueta puts clasps her hands behind her back and stands mast-like, straight and to her full height, ready to be called a lunatic, or worse, by this real priest of Besmara that the Queen of Sea Monsters saw fit to put on this ship. But Cueta fervently hoped that she'd be believed.
I was ready to retire to my berth after my tale, but Harmony's story led my to remain awake for a while yet. I offered to stay and watch Esmarelda while she recovered. Once Mila appeared to lend her aid, I tipped my hat to her and slipped off to the hold. It had been a day of highs and lows.
Esmarelda gave a small mumble as she sat up followed by a groan. "Oh dracu, ce sa întâmplat?" She muttered as she looked around.
She noticed all of her friends around her and gave a small laugh. "How much trouble did I cause?" She asked them as she slowly stood up. Her body was still a little stiff and her back was sore, but she was sure with a good nights rest that would go away. "And who do I have to thank for getting me back up on my feet?" She asked as she looked around, then noticed Mila. "Is is safe to assume you?"
"No trouble at all, or thanks needed," Mila said with a grin to Esmarelda as she woke up.
Mila gave Cueta a hard look up and down, clearly judging the woman, but not in a particularly cruel way. "Well, I never heard of that before. But I certainly am not going to turn anyone down with a request like that. I think you'll find it a might bit simpler than you'd expect. Ain't a heck of a lot to learn, and most of it reads like an epic sea shanty," Mila explains to her. If she found issue in the details of Cueta's story, she didn't give any indicators of it. "But not tonight. I think I'll turn in before it gets too late. Come see me tomorrow evening, if you get the chance."
With that, Mila took her leave, offering a gracious smile to Harmony as she passes as the woman returns. "She'll be fine. Awake if nothing else."
Sure enough, Esmarelda is quite conscious, although she feels like she still needs to sleep it off. She's feeling rather fatigued from the whole ordeal.
The next day returns to the usual routine with Scourge handing out the day's tasks and duties.
high = sober, low = inebriated
Gall does his best impression of a surly soldier as he marches down to the hammocks with Mila, but the moment Esmarelda wakes up, he is all smiles. If nothing else, he is relieved that this woman has turned out to truly be a friend to them with no strings attached. "Not needed, but thank ye regardless, lass. Ye done us two favors now. Just ye give me a yell if I can't return the favor for ye at some point, aye?"
Turning to Esmarelda, he reaches out to offer her a hand to help her get to her feet. He is still not quite sure she should be moving around just yet, but far be it for him to stop her. If their roles were reversed, he sincerely doubted that he would listen. As soon as she is up though, he gives her a critical look over. "Say, lass, maybe I ought to see 'bout gettin' the lot of us our things back tomorrow morn. Give ye a chance to recuperate and take it easy on whatever they got ye doin', ye hear?"
----------
The half-giant goes about his usual daily tasks without preamble, delighted to hear that he is to be fishing today. Fishing has always been a fond pass time of his and he has more than a bit of skill with it, so he sets to the task with a gusto. Which naturally gives him plenty of time to cut out early once he judges that he has enough fish. All the better to snoop around the galley or have a chat with Grok about some gear.
Cueta had done swab work many times on the Pegasus. Sure, the work was tough, but Cueta knew not to push oneself. Slow and steady would do the trick. As the morning wore on, the sailor once again found herself shirking her duties.
Lingering near the Officer's Quarters and appearing busy, scrubbing or swabbing whenever observed, Cueta spent the day doing as much watching as she did cleaning. She was particularly attentive whenever an officer went into his or her quarters, especially Plugg or Scourge. Cueta would try to peak into the quarters, to see how they were constructed, if the door was locked (and who carried the keys if that was the case), and if the officers did anything with the door to the quarters or in their quarters to suggest that there were any traps or alarms anywhere, designed to foil anyone unauthorized from getting in.
Sighing as the bloody hour approached, Cueta put aside her holystone and waited to see who would be on the docket for tonight's whipping.
"Another day, another coin. No wait", Harmony sighs as she gets up in the morning, groaning a little. Despite the fact that yesterday had been the easiest day for her so far, she nonetheless hadn't slept too well, and feels a little queasy. Her condition isn't helped any by being sent below decks, away from the cooling breeze and sea spray. I wonder if I'm coming down with something, she thinks to herself, feeling her forehead at various times during the day and keeping a close watch on how she feels. "Rats. Well, at least not as big as yesterday", she mumbles to herself while hunting for the vermin.
Wow, this is working out better than I expected, she muses after having caught a dozen rats and stuffed them into an empty barrel for holding. I wonder what they want me to do with them. Do they want to eat these things? Throw them overboard? Use them for target practice? One thing I know is that I'm not killing them. I was expressly told, 'catch', not 'exterminate'. If that's what they want, let them do it themselves. She manages to catch a very good amount of rats over the day, yet another satisfying performance despite the lack of job training.
"Gall?" she knocks on the kitchen door sometime during the late afternoon as the shifts are approaching end. "So...I have a bunch of rats I caught today. And I probably shouldn't ask this, but what sort of stuff are we eating every day? Should I bring the rats here; would that be a step down or, I'm afraid to ask, a step up?"
While passing Esmarelda sometime during the day, she pauses to ask the younger girl about her family. "You mentioned being a scion of the Valarie shipping company... I'm not familiar with them, are they active here in the Shackles? Or are they further up north, and you've traveled away from them?"
Sometime during the day, she catches a glimpse of herself in some shiny reflective surface, perhaps there's a mirror somewhere, or if worst comes to worst, at the bottom of a particularly well polished kettle. She doubletakes, and then grimaces, looking at herself and turning her head a little to the left and right. "Ouch", she says to herself, briefly concentrating just on herself and unaware if anyone's watching. The bruise from Cueta's punch the other day has made by now a pretty impressive blue-black area across her cheek. "Yeah, that's not going to be easy to hide. Maybe Grok has some makeup." Her expression is clearly dismayed at such a clear mar of her appearance.
Daytime Action: Shop
Harmony makes her way to Grok's shop sometime during the day, with the only thing she has to trade -- the chain shirt she had found in her locker, thanks to an unknown benefactor. She's aware of Esmarelda's need for her kapenia and the fiddle thing, as well as the axe Cueta discovered from the talk the other night, and she crunches some numbers inside her head. "So Grok", she opens up, "I have this", she holds up her chain shirt, "and you have a bunch of things I need. Let's start negotiating. My first option would be trading this for Cueta's longbow and arrows if you are amenable. If you're not, I would settle for Rosie's fiddle. Do either sound like a fair trade to you?" Harmony spends some time haggling with Grok, trying to get either Cueta's equipment or the fiddle from the quartermaster.
"Oh, and some makeup would be nice if you have anything."
She shook her head at Gall. "No, I doubt Scourge and Plugg will let me rest and visiting Grok will allow me to rest." She said before give him a smirk. "After all there are some things we just have to do." She then headed down to her hammock, stopping at her locker to put the axe away. Though when she took it off her belt she stopped. I wonder... She set the axe in the locker and cast a spell to detect magical aura.
-----Next Morning-----
Esmarelda got up, giving a stretch as she did so. So much better, I think today is going to be a good day! She thought happily as she got up and got the axe from her locker.
She headed up to the top deck with her friends to get their tasks for the day. Though when Scourge ordered her to the bilges she sighed and looked at the half-giant. "I can't get away from the bilges with ease, and to be honest I don't want to risk it. I am not too eager to feel Scourge's whip on back again. So can I take you up on the offer still?" She asked as she handed him the axe.
Esmarelda made her way down to the bilges to get to work. "Count your luck Es, they could have put you back on the sails." She told herself before she climbed down in. While doing her job though the heat seemed to weigh heavily on her.She climbed back up the latter and sat on the flood, her legs handing though the hatch leading down.
Which was great timing for Harmony came to speak with her Though the question she asked cause a bitter sweet look in Esmarelda's eyes. "Yes they are, though they mostly travel the Fever Run, Sand Coast Reach, and Varisian Reach. Pretty much the whole western coast." She said with a sigh. "The house I grew up in is here in the shackles though. Spent a lot of time down at the docks, much to my mother's dismay." She gave a small laugh as she turned away from Harmony. "I... didn't even say goodbye..." She muttered. She shook her head and looked back to her friend. "I need to get back to work, don't want to give Scourge a reason for me to take my shirt off again!" She said with a joking laugh before she gave her a nod and began climbing down to the bilges.
"Yeah, 'course, lass. I'll see it gets sorted for ye." Gall is perfectly content to take the axe and trade it to Grok, but the moment Harmony steps into the galley, he gets an idea. He pauses in the midst of helping Fishguts de-bone the fish to quirk a brow across to the rat-bearing woman. "...uhh. That'll be a step or three down, lass. We're havin' fish tonight. I'd just give the lot of 'em to Scourge if I were ye."
Tossing the fish's skeleton into the nearest refuse bucket, he gestures for her to come a bit closer and tugs the masterwork axe from his belt. She will be far more likely to be able to do something with it than he will, with her silver tongue. "Ye mind doin' me a solid and seein' what ye can trade Grok for this? Suspect she'll enjoy the words comin' from yer mouth more than mine. All I'm lookin' for is me sword and chain shirt back, but the rest of our lot's stuff comes first."
No one seems to pay the least amount of mind to Cueta as she swabs the decks near the officer's cabins. Afterall, she was exactly where she should be doing exactly what she should be. And it seemed that no one noticed when she'd pause her work to get a glance into the off-limits quarters.
From what she could see, the officers slept on the same sorts of hammocks the rest of the crew did, though much more private. It seemed that on either side of the area was a door that lead into another smaller room. One of them Pepper opened a few times over the day. She seemed to fidget at one of the side doors for a short amount of time before entering. Cueta is unsure if she was disabling a trap, or simply unlocking the thing.
Caulky, the cabin girl, went in and out a few times over the day.
Any attempts to notice specific behaviors of the officers went wholly unnoticed by the stealthy inquisitor.
Grok was more than happy to see one of the ship's best storytellers at her shop and greeted her with a hearty hello. "What can I do for ya?" When Harmony holds up the chain shirt, Grok gives a bit of a frown. "If ya want my opinion, ya don't wanna be getting rid of that. Keep you alive, that will. And I don't need to tell ya that you and the company ya keep aren't everyone's favorite people on the crew," she says darkly, her eyes darting about trying to pick out any eavesdroppers.
I set about a repeat of yesterday's tasks, to see if I could acquit myself better than my last effort. I believe I did a much better job than before.
Since the ropes did not confound me like last time, I struck up a conversation with Badger Medlar while working. "How do you do? What a great day it is to be sailing upon a mighty pirate vessel in the great waters of the Shackles!"
Bedger Medlar was not a particularly friendly sort, but Artevious' charm is rather infectious and he gets her chatting, though for her part the words are few and far between. At the very least, by the end of the day she seems a little less unfriendly.
--- at the galley ---
Earlier on, in the galley with Gall. "Well, I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that our food has higher quality ingredients than what I just spent my day harvesting." She gives a tip of her head to Fishguts as well, if he seems to be sober enough to be aware of her presence. "Because believe me, I've been on ships where the catering has not exactly, shall we say, lived up to expectations."
When Gall pulls out the masterwork axe that Harmony had heard tell of before, but hadn't actually seen, she looks quite impressed by the item. "That's...a handsome weapon", she says. "Certainly, I can offer to haggle over it with the quartermaster, but it looks like a real high quality item...a shame to just give it up", she points out. Despite her objection, however, she holds out her hand so Gall can give the axe to her.
--- outside the officers' cabins ---
While Harmony is on her way between the galley and the quartermaster, she stops by Cueta. The ijo woman's position up on deck isn't exactly on the crow-flies route between the galley and the quartermaster, but as she is under the impression that Cueta is the person who seems to have found the axe in the first place, Harmony feels that she should doublecheck things, just to make sure. "So, Gall gave me this axe, is this the one you found?" she asks Cueta in a low voice, trying not to draw attention from the rest of the crew. "He suggested that I try trading it in with Grok for our supplies...I just wanted to doublecheck if that's okay with you?" She glances around at the swabbing that has been done, and adds an additional question. "How are you doing up here, is everything all right?"
--- at the quartermaster ---
"Well, no, we're not exactly winning popularity contests", Harmony answers Grok, but does lower the chain shirt she was holding up, as something else occurs to her -- the axe that Gall had asked her to trade. It looks really nice though -- I'd hate to throw away something like this, while my chain shirt is just garden variety. But well, it's not mine, so I don't get to choose. It's theirs and they wanted to give it up. Then, putting a hand behind her back, to the axe tucked to her belt, she pulls it out, showing it to Grok. "What about this, then?" she asks. "Would you be more willing to trade something for this? Most of us already have some kind of weapons, so you can't pull the same 'we need it' stunt with this one", she smiles teasingly. "So...we're looking for Rosie's fiddle and our own stuff...what kind of deal can you offer?"
--- at the bilges ---
While visiting Esmarelda at the bilges, Harmony does what she did during the rat fight the other day, staying up on the ladder and not descending all the way down to the bilge waters. "That is some foul stuff", she grimaces, nodding down to the...stuff...liquid...type...thing. "I hope you don't mind if I just stay up here and, you know, don't join you down there." Whether Esmarelda minds or not, though, getting down there is a 'hell no' sort of thing, even for sympathy reasons. "That's a little funny that you mention not saying goodbye to your mother, though. I'm in a bit of the same situation. As far as I know, I just disappeared, and I doubt she knows what happened to me. At least, unless someone who arranged it gloats to her."
--- at the end of the day ---
Harmony makes her way to either Plugg or Scourge, whichever happens to be more easily accessible, and reports about her ratcatching success. "Sir, crewman Leading reporting! I'm happy to report that a whole bunch of regular, non-human-eating variety rats have been disposed of belowdecks. I live only to serve your every whim, so I wanted to check with you what you wanted done with them!" She points a finger to a large barrel that the officer is leaning against. "I've been putting them in there. You want me to light it up with some rum and a torch, to satisfy your evil, sadistic personality? We could spend the evening watching little rats squeal as they burn to death. It's not really the sort of thing that I find arousing, but as I mentioned, I only wish to please you, so I am trying to come up with things that you might find romantic." Yeah, maybe she's going a little too far. Might be a lashing incoming, perhaps depending on whether her desire to please is seen as genuine or as needling. Newsflash, it is needling. But she does try to at least pretend that it's genuine.
"Perhaps for afterwards, we can try picking the wings off some live flying fish. Sir!"
Bedger Medlar was not a particularly friendly sort, but Artevious' charm is rather infectious and he gets her chatting, though for her part the words are few and far between. At the very least, by the end of the day she seems a little less unfriendly.
"Jolly good!" I extolled when Badger finally smiled and seemed somewhat in better spirits.
I finished my day's tasks, pleased that my work was going to pass muster and therefore not give Scourge any excuse to see me during the bloody hour. I tipped my hat to Esmarelda and Mila as I passed them by at the close of the day's work. Then I saw Harmony doing her absolute best to bring a smile to Scourge's face.
"That's quite the good idea!" I commended Harmony later. "Certainly a cruel and depraved pastime for such folk, but I agree that a barrel-full of vermin is a most fitting gift for one such as Scourge. I hope he appreciates the thought that you put into it!"
Grok, already partial to Harmony and her story telling, takes the ax and gives it an appraising look and nods. "I can give ya fair value on this," the half-orc says, setting the ax back on the counter. "For somethin' like this, you can get back most everything you're lookin' for." She pauses then gives Harmony a look up and down. "Fiddle's goin' to that tall girl to give to Rosie right? Be good to get that wretched halfling off my ass." Without waiting for an answer, Grok digs around the back and pulls out a large crate. "Just take it all. Be quiet about it, but take it. It should all be there. Oh and..." she digs around again and hands her a massive sword. Probably Gall's if Harmony had a good guess. "You tell that giant-man that if he get ol' Fishguts in trouble again, I'll tell the captain he pinched it in the night."
~ ~ ~
Scourge looks at Harmony like she's grown a tail and a pig's snout before dismissing her, muttering about the bat shit crazies they picked up. She doesn't earn herself a lashing from what she can tell, but she certainly didn't endear herself to him in any way.
"What? Tall girl? No. *I'm* going to give it to Rosie. That way, Rosie will like me, and when I give Esmarelda her kapenia back, she will like me too. A girl has got to build relationships, you know", she laughs, maybe joking, maybe only half-joking. When Grok pulls out the crate, Harmony is like, whoa, that's big. "Um. You know, this might take two or three trips for me to haul this stuff out. Don't mind me", she says. Sometime after she has delivered the rats to Scourge, she embarks on the effort to try and haul the group's equipment to her locker. Some of the stuff doesn't fit there, so the biggest ones, like the massive sword, she drops off at Gall right away. The majority of the stuff, however, she places in her locker, planning to distribute it to her companions (or to Rosie, in regards to the fiddle) after the evening meal when things have settled down.
"This is heavy as crap", Harmony says as she makes her way to the galley as the evening mealtime approaches, just before Gall and Fishguts close up shop. With her, she's dragging the massive sword -- literally dragging by the hilt, the tip scraping the deck. "If this isn't yours", she tells Gall, "I swear, you get to transport it to whomever it belongs to. I'm done!" With that, she lets the huge sword clang to the galley floor, and lets out a heavy sigh of relief.
Before mealtime, she makes a point out of applying some of the makeup she bargained from Grok, putting some on her cheeks to try and hide some of what Cueta did with that fist of hers. Oh, and while she's at it, her lashes can certainly use a touch-up. "No nail polish though", she mumbles to herself. I'd say I have to pick up some at the next port, but next port is going to be more of a drop-off location if I have anything to say about it.
Nighttime Action: Entertain
For tonight's tale, Harmony tells the crew a story of a ghost captain that sails the Fever Sea, looking for the most evil pirates that he can find, to kill and add to his ghost crew. The story is told adequately, but it doesn't hit the spot quite as well as her earlier stories.