When the call of man over board came out, Esmarelda snapped her head to the direction of the call. It didn't take long for her to see who had gone overboard. "ROSIE!" She cried out. She looked down to her friends in the rigging, who where already dropping down to the deck. Then her eyes fell to Artevious who was already taking control of the situation.
She thought about joining them to help but there was no way she could get down in time. Besides she could be of more use here, up in this nest she would be able to watch if Rosie let go. Another time I just have to wait and watch... She thought as she kept her eyes fixed on Rosie, she would be sure to call out the second anything changed.
Cueta grabs a rope from the main mast and ties one end around her waist as she runs to the rail of the ship's deck, where she begins tying the other end to the railing. "Well done mates! She's floundering - I'll make sure she's tied up so you can haul her in..."
From her vantage point, Cueta can see Rosie clinging to the rope like the life line it is. She looks like she's getting cold, but her white knuckled grip hasn't slackened yet.
Artevious and Gall manage to start helping reel Rosie in, pulling her 5ft closer to the ship. With the new aid and allies' strength, she's having an easier time keeping her head up out of the waves.
"Keep a hold of her! Just a little while longer! Cueta's working on something!" Harmony shouts to the group hanging on to the rope that Rosie is holding on to. She forces herself to her feet despite her stinging knee, and makes her way to Cueta, doublechecking her knots, both around her waist, and around the railing, and while she's at it, the integrity of the rope around the middle as well. The worst thing right now would be equipment failure and suddenly having *two* people to rescue. She looks into Cueta's eyes, nodding with respect, and says, "Good luck."
At the shout from Harmony, Gall shoots a glance back in her direction and does his best to check the knots from a distance. Not that he really expects to be able to sort out much in the driving wind and rain, but every little bit helps.
If he sees any major issues, he will shout out suggestions to the pair of women at the top of his voice. If not, he simply nods and calls out his assent at the idea. He has bigger things to focus on for the moment, like trying to get Rosie just a bit closer to the ship. At least at this point, he can maybe start making some real headway at the task. He does his best to haul the poor halfling woman back to safety, but the soaked rope and the storm are certainly not helping.
In her childhood, Cueta spent many pleasant hours with her sister, leaping from the giant mangrove trees that made up the underpinnings of Bloodcove, the trees themselves being the supports on and in which the city's piers, catwalks, and buildings were supported. Tall leaps, sometimes as much fifty feet, where the girls would seem to be suspended in the air, time frozen, would be interrupted by a hard splash into the Fever Sea, and then a moment of delirious panic, the sighting of the sun and great kicks to hit the surface before their air ran out, followed by peels of laughter.
There was no laughter, no sun, tonight - just the sea, roiling below Cueta. A moment of doubt entered into the woman's mind. Would the knots hold? She'd tied hundreds - no thousands - of knots in her working life, and none had failed yet, but there was always a first time, and the fates were fickle. Still, Besmara wouldn't have put Cueta on the Wormwood just to let her servant drown ingloriously in a storm, would she?
Eh, fook it, Cueta thought, and jumped.
The drop was similar in the ways of her childhood play, in that the time seemed to stretch out way beyond the fall itself, until, jarringly, she hit the water. The sea was was warm, much warmer than the chilling rain that had been falling on the crew for hours. It was also dark, utterly and completely, like a parrot's cage covered with a blanket. Heart pounding, Cueta tugged on the rope, and then headed up the rope hand over hand, judging she must only be a few feet under water, give or take a huge swell...
Head popping above the water, Cueta used the rolling logs kick to hold her place and make a quick survey for Rosie, before kicking her legs and arms, rolling boulder stroke, in that direction.
I was quite amazed at the mad action that Cueta took. I had contemplated such a move myself if Gall and myself were unable to haul Rosie in like the catch of the day. From my vantage, I could see that Cueta was a rather strong swimmer, and she managed the swells and the waves rather deftly. Hopefully, we could be able with a concerted effort to wrest poor Rosie from the briny.
"Again, Gall! Let's heave!" I shouted over the crash of the waves.
Cueta lands in the roiling waves and is only disoriented a moment before Rosie's lifted by a swelling wave, putting her into Cueta's line of sight. The knots held, it would seem. Cueta manages to swim towards Rosie despite the violent ocean motion.
While that's is going on, Artevious and Gall once again haul at the rope, drawing Rosie in close to the ship. It's slow going, but pulling too hard would jerk the rope from the halfling's hands.
Just one more good push from Cueta or pull from the boys up top should be all that's needed to get Rosie secure.
Despite everyone's best efforts, Rosie's head is still dipping under as waves crash over her. Hopefully she won't swallow too much down...
Harmony casts dancing lights, putting the four spheres of light in the area where Cueta and Rosie are, illuminating the water as well as she can.
Four lights spring into existence, illuminating just how high a wave is coming at the sailors. Perhaps a story high, the wave pulls against Cueta's momentum, stalling the mariner as she seems to get nowhere closer to the halfling.
Cursing, Cueta swallows a copious amount of seawater as the lights play across the Fever Sea's surface, black, glittering water as far as Cueta can see.
"Almost there, lad! Just a wee bit more," Gall shouts over the roaring tempest above them, eyes half-lidded against the rain. He tightens his grip on the rope yet again and prepares to heave on it steadily when a rather large wave hits the side of the boat and covers him in brine. A dark scowl touches his features at the thought of his two friends being directly beneath that swell, but he stifles the thought. They will be under far worse if he does not hurry.
Artevious and Gall manage to pull Rosie closet, putting her adjacent to Cueta. Should Cueta want, she can use a standard action to try to secure Rosie.
Despite her own struggles, her friends manage to pull Cueta closer to Rosie. Treading water, Cueta loops the loose rope around the halfling while talking soothingly to her, trying to keep Rosie from flailing too much. It is not her best work - Rosie's clearly out of her mind with panic, and Cueta's wet fingers have trouble getting the knot to bind. Still, she's hopeful the woman's light weight - even soaking wet - will allow the knot to hold.
"Pull 'er up!"
Esmarelda watched from the nest as they pulled Rosie in and Cueta went after her. Brave woman... I don't think I'd be able to do that. She thought as she watched Cueta brave the stormy waters.
"CUETA HAS HER! PULL THEM IN!" Esmarelda shouted over with winds, down to her friends below.
Gall clenches his jaw tightly around a curse as the slick rope creaks in his hands and he fights to keep a solid hold on it. Cueta's weight added to Rosie's and the pull of the ocean is only going to make this harder. Fortunately, he has no plans on giving up any time soon. "Workin' on it, lass," he shouts back up to Esmarelda, but has no idea if she can even hear him. One boot lifts to settle against the rail so that he might steady himself with a bit more room for leverage. "Harmony, give us a hand over here. More the merrier, innit?"
Harmony grabs on to the rope and tries to help with pulling, but it seems she doesn't have the leverage, feet keep slipping on the wet deck and high winds.
The combined efforts of the party make for quick work hauling Rosie up. She shivers in the air, cold and exhausted. "Th-the shit you do that for? I f%**in' h-had it, you c-cunts," she scolded, though the smile she bestowed on her saviors took the edge of her words.
It was with a surge of relief that we had managed to haul the foul-mouthed halfling aboard, even though her method of thanks left much to be desired.
That task done, we were still left with one of our crewmates in the water. I moved to the spot where Cueta's line still anchored her to the Wormwood in an effort to assist her back in the boat. "Nice work, lass!" I shouted over the roar of the storm. "Now let's get you back aboard!"
"Aye!"Cueta yells, "I'm ready for a fookin' dry hammock!" Grabbing the rope, she tries to lift herself hand over hand, but settles back into the water, exhausted.
Gall drags Rosie up over the edge of the ship and pulls her into a rib-creaking hug quickly. Fortunately, it does not linger or dinner for the evening would be mashed halfling. Instead, he sets her down and hurries over to Cueta's line, moving to grab what Artveious could not. "Come on, lad. Together now, aye?"
Cueta tries again, mustering her willpower to climb the rope. This time, she makes progress. Slow progress, but progress none the less.
Despite everyone's best efforts, it seems that folks on both ends of the rope are starting to get tired. Cueta manages to slowly heave herself out of the water, but at a crawl only after a couple of attempts. The rope is slick with rain, but friction does it's job well enough for the time being.
Harmony goes to help Cueta up as soon as she grabs onto the railing, grabbing onto the woman and trying to drag her over the railing back onto the deck. "You did great. Just rest now." Then, she calls out to the rest of the people, "Let's get Cueta and Rosie carried inside!" Once they're somewhere out of the rain, it should be considerably easier to give them some towel type textiles to help them dry themselves off a bit.
The half-giant is quick to offer an arm to Cueta and Rosie both to help them get below and out of the weather, chuckling the whole way down. Though, offering an arm to Rosie is a bit more like scooping her up off of the ground to carry in the crook of one arm like a toddler. "Yer a wild woman, lass," he says to the Mwangi woman as they walk. "Most lads what I know wouldn't dare leap into the sea during a storm like that. Hell, I'm glad yer on our side."
Cueta smiles, a big, toothy grin. "Aye. My mother said I was the most reckless child she'd ever seen. I try to live up to it every day." Turning to Rosie, Cueta turns serious. "No room in Besmara's Chest for you. Not any time soon if Gall and Artevious have something to say about it."
And we may need you later. A life is a big debt to owe.
Grinning again, Cueta turns back to her friends. "Well, I guess its back in the rigging then?"
So you have successfully saved the wee halfling who stubbornly refuses any aid offered to her from the Stitchman and sets back to work. Scourge comes by and shouts at you all for wasting time and refuses to hear any excuses.
Evening sets in and crew members begin rotating out to get a chance to eat a quick meal before heading back into the rigging. Scourge and Plugg shuffle the crew about as this rotation happens, landing some folks on a new task for the evening shift.
Gall practically devours his dinner, scarfing it down with all of the grace and poise of a half-starved mountain goat. And even then, he still gets no break. Such is the life of a sailor; he heads back out to find that he is still doing much the same. Rigging work never ends.
The man is careful to call out to his companions if they look in need of help, particularly those in the rigging with him. Knowing well that Harmony is not the best climber, he makes certain to keep a close eye on her.
Mumbling quietly to herself, Harmony mutters, "Oh yeah, this is what I needed...nearly break my knee jumping down from the mast, what do you do? Put me even higher than before. I swear, this ship is run by..." She manages to leave the last words unsaid, although it probably isn't difficult to figure out from her tone. With a sigh, she gets back to the climbing, and says, more aloud than her previous words. "Well, wish me luck. I think I might get up there before sunrise if the gods are with me."
Fortunately enough, the worst efforts she puts in are right at the beginning, which means she doesn't fall enough to break her knee some more. After she finally gets going, she keeps going all the way up, and with a deep, heavy whew, settles into the crow's nest. "I should've pilfered a sandwich with me", she mutters, settling in for hours of being bored. She keeps looking from horizon to horizon, calling out what weather conditions she can make sense of, but overall, she's not happy to be up there.
Because she's so bored and uninterested in the lookout duty, her thoughts keep drifting off, over and over again, to various things like,
- I wonder how deep the water is right here.
- I don't like that dandy gnome. Not like that. Do I?
- If I could catch one of those birds that annoy me by perching right there, I wonder if I could eat it raw.
- Besmara and pirates, hah! Oh, some people think it's so very romantic, wish they could see this crapwork right now.
- Maybe we could be rescued by dashing Andoren swashbucklers, and I could reward them. Hmm. One at a time or several at once?
- I really don't like the chili part in avocado pasta. I think it would be better without.
- Gee, that cloud looks like...oh, Harmony! Get your mind out of the gutter!
- The wind up here is really not doing any favors to my hair. And scrunchies are for urchins.
- Playing cards should have fourteen cards in each suit, not thirteen. There should be gender equality in the picture cards. And who says kings rank higher than queens anyway?
And so it goes, so it's little surprise that,
Unless somebody helps her out by pointing out something she should notice, she might be whip bound tonight.
This. This is what piracy is about, I beamed. The rescue of a cherished colleague amidst a raging storm, with stalwart companions working in tandem and risking life and limb for each other. I clapped my hand on Gall's shoulder and clasped Cueta's hand in thanks for their timely assistance. I looked into the driving rain to give a salute to Harmony in the rigging, and then turned toward Rosie.
I bowed low with a flourish and offered her my hand, helping her to her feet. "Together for one," I said, sparing a wink and a grin to Esmarelda, "and each to the other."
The moment couldn't last, as Mr. Plugg ordered us all back to work. I supposed it made sense. Unlike the stories, despite the danger to a single crewmate having passed, the storm raged on. A fresh wave crested over the railing, drenching all of us upon the deck as thoroughly as if we had similarly gone swimming with Rosie. I shook my head, sputtered a bit, then affixed my hat back upon my head and returned to my duties. But I couldn't stop smiling.
Cueta knocks foreheads with Artevious and yells, a loud Ijo war whoop, before heading back into the rigging. Its easy enough a climb - at this point, Cueta can practically do it with her eyes closed, storm or no.
The sailor works steadily to splice back together the storm-ravaged rigging, all the while yelling suggestions to her coworkers, from the crow's nest to the deck. Unfortunately, it seems that the wind and distance between Cueta and Esmarelda mean little of Cueta's advice is taken.
Esmarelda smiled brightly back to Artevious, she couldn't help it. After they ate and were summoned back up to the deck she couldn't help but sigh. "Well... back into the rain." She said as she got up and headed out.
When she got back to the deck and got her new task she quickly set to work. She fell in line with the others and worked the sails. She could somewhat hear Cueta shouting to her but was unable to make out everything she said sadly. When her task was done she looked worn out, like all of her energy had been emptied from her body.
The night wears on and with the storm still keeping a firm hold on the seas, no one is getting any sleep. Plugg and Scourge keep the crew lively with threatening cracks of their whips, though more often than not the howling wind and roars of thunder drown out the sound.
You're cold, hungry, and tired. Not to mention wet.
As the evening wears on and Gall still finds himself in the rigging, the work begins to wear at him. Perhaps it was hauling two women out of the drink or perhaps it was simply because they were not allowed to rest, but he feels very much as though he has been keelhauled already. On second thought, Jakes Magpie probably had it far worse than he does at the moment. Either way, his actions slowly begins to turn sluggish as he works to fight against the fatigue.
Calling up to Cueta and Harmony in a voice he hopes will not be heard down on the deck, he remarks wearily, "If I fall 'sleep up here, just make sure my arse drops outta the rigging straight into Plugg for me, aye? Bloody ridiculous. I 'ate storms like this'n. You two doin' awright?"
"Thanks to you guys' help, I think I made it through this day...barely. Would never have made it on my own. So...thanks, everyone", she sighs as she leans against a railing, taking a moment to catch her breath before getting back to work. "I had forgotten how scary storms can be...with no land in sight, just a hopefully well constructed bunch of lumber between you and dozens of miles of ocean in every direction. Jeez, now I'm making myself anxious", she makes a playful slap at her own cheek. "Stop that, Harmony. We're gonna make it through this. Worst that can happen is the ship breaks apart, then we just cling to floating wood and wait to wash ashore somewhere." Well, no, that's not the worst that can happen, but she's trying to be optimistic.
On and on into night, Cueta splits rope, ties if off, ties knots, hauls rope into the rigging, patches the sails...
Shivering and wet, cursing, more and more like Rosie every second, under her breath.
"We could get eaten by a kraken. Or thrown overboard by a swell and not rescued. Or pushed off the ship by Scourge. Or fooking struck by lightning. Or..."
Cueta keeps her mind busy, imagining all the awful things that could happen, and Besmara's blessings, won't.
Esmarelda worked on through the night. Her eyelids wanted to argue but the rain seemed to keep her awake enough to continue her work. "This gets easier as you go." She told herself as she kept to her work.
Her stomach complained about it's lack of continence, though she knew there was nothing she could do to shut it up. Does this storm have no end?! She wondered.
I believe there was more to the storm, but I quite thoroughly seem to be unable to recall it. There was some mumbled instructions, I was sure, but I believe Mr. Scourge lapsed into some strange dialect and I was rather dumfounded at it all.
I had a task, that much was certain. The crew needed me. The crew! It was just like that time when my father had to charm a sorceress who had turned his entire crew into farm animals. I became suddenly worried when I found myself below decks amongst a number of the crew who had clearly been turned into a porcine state. I assured them that I would see them returned to their human state, although I couldn't be rightly sure that they had been in fact human. But I think one of the pigs definitely had a yellowish tinge. Poor Jaundice.
I stumbled around in the hold, and had a thoroughly engaging conversation with Owlbear, though I don't rightly recall his salient and reasoned utterances. I know I made it back up to the deck, because the next thing I remember was the rancid breath of Mr. Scourge as he leaned menacingly close, as I had entangled myself in a very comfortable coil of rope. "Line work's done," I offered.
As Artevious passes out on the job, Scourge sends a few good men, and Conchobhar as he refused to leave the side of his beloved friend, to carry him down to the bunks. Whispers of lashings for others who fall asleep make their rounds through the crew, boding poorly for poor Artevious when this is all over.
The rest of you slave through the night, patching sails, knoting ropes, and keeping an eye on the horizon to avoid shallows or rocks. Harmony misses calling out a huge wave coming directly at the ship that comes crashing down around them, but the ships holds and no one is lost at sea (as far as anyone can tell, anyways). She earns herself a sharp word from Plugg, but it's doubtful she can even hear it where she is.
As the night slowly turns back to day, the storm breaks and the pink and yellow hues of dawn peek through the clouds. The raid dwindles to a shower and the raucous peels of thunder only come from somewhere distant behind them.
Of course, that doesn't mean you get a break. No! It's a new day! Things need done! Decks need swabbed and meals cooked! Plugg and Scourge begin sending people to their usual daily tasks with muffled yawns. Their orders lack the usual bark. Rosie runs down to the lower deck and rouses Artevious before he gets in any more trouble for being late to the mornings work.
high = sober, low = inebriated
Gall barely has the brain power left to even nod to Fishguts as he wanders into the galley the next day, but he does his best to be polite. At the request to acquire fish for the thoroughly inebriated cook, he turns right around without a word and makes for the main deck. Fortunately, he could fish in his sleep and so he does his best to use his time wisely.
Unfortunately for the half-giant, he actually does pass out in the midst of fishing and likely catches absolutely nothing. If he is not woken up, it seems that very little will be getting done in the way of dinner this evening.
"What the hell? We don't get to sleep even an hour? This is bull!" Harmony complains once out of earshot of any of the officers, although it's of course entirely possible that some of Plugg's more favored cronies in the crew will report her whining. Dragging down morale, don't you know. Because Plugg is certainly an authority in how to keep up morale.
Regardless, Harmony gets to work, barely staggering on her feet. Some of the sails have torn, and have been taken down for re-sewing, which she starts to do. And manages the repetitive task for about five minutes before it becomes clear to any onlooker that she's going to nod off. She sews a little bit...her head droops lower...lower...lower all the while, until with a jolt, she startles awake, and resumes sewing again, only for the whole thing to repeat all over again. Sew, droop, nod off, wake up, rinse and repeat, and this keeps going probably until there's one of the officers standing behind her, listening to her happily sawing logs. Not the literal kind. It's actually kind of hard to miss when she really and properly drifts off to sleep, because as it turns out -- at least when she's sitting up -- she's one of those people whose snores sound like one of those Numerian 'chainsaw' things. We're not talking like, regular loud. We're not even talking REALLY loud. We're talking HOLY GOZREH DID WE JUST SCRAPE A SANDBAR. Fishguts can probably hear it all the way down in the galley when Harmony falls asleep.
Somebody will pretty likely eventually kick her awake, at which point she jumps up with a startle, and exclaims bleary-eyed, "I did NOT paint that coochie on your door!"
And after a moment of waking up, she realizes where she is. "...no wait..."
Too tired to protest, Cueta grabs the holystone and gets to work, though it registers that Scourge may just be being cruel, making her scrub the decks after a torrential storm. It isn't long before Cueta is face down on the deck, hand still gripping the holystone, asleep in her wash - puddle.
Instead of being woken up by an officer with a cruel punishment for falling sleep, Harmony gets woken up considerably more gently by Barefoot Samms then, who nudges her awake before she falls asleep. Still pretty exhausted though!
Esmarelda weakly picked up the holystone and her bucket of water before heading off to work. Yet she didn't get far before she collapsed on the deck, out cold from exhaustion. The bucket crashed against the deck, spilling the water and dropping her holystone; which slid across the wood carried by the water.
Scourge finds you slumped against the side of the ship, snoring and out cold from the efforts of your labors. He gives you a sharp smack on the back of your head. "Wake up, ya big oaf. I'll be seein' ya at the bloody hour tonight for fallin' asleep on the job!" Confident he roused the sleeping giant, he strides off muttering about useless crew members deserving a keelhauling. On the plus side, Gall's net is full of fish. The downside... well, there's no time to cook it.
Barefoot Samms gives the sleepy Harmony a nudge with her foot. "Hey, Plugg's looking this way you probably want to be lookin' more lively than that!" She hands Harmony a length of rope that had frayed and gives her a pat on the back. "There ya go lassy. Just a few more hours."
Esmarelda gets about a 10 minute cat nap before the shadow of Plugg falls across her. The crack of his whip hitting the wood beside her head snaps her to attention. "Look alive, you bilge rat! It'll be on your skin during the bloody hour!" he cackles as she walks away, laughing at the thought of her pain later.
Cueta spends the day scrubbing the deck, the holystone rubbing her skin raw. Gritting her teeth, Cueta shuts her mind off, and zones out the best she can to make the day pass.
And it does, for the most part uneventfully. Plugg startles Cueta out of her work-induced trance, cackling as he slams his whip into the deck next to Esmarelda. A cruel weapon for a cruel man. Sighing, Cueta stretches and gets back to scrubbing. She can't muster the energy for anger today.
Rosie roused me after too short of a rest. I barely was able to crawl myself into the rigg I g for my appointed task, and only through a, I daresay Herculean, effort, I was able to get through the day without pitching off the rigging and into the deck.
Scourge finds you slumped against the side of the ship, snoring and out cold from the efforts of your labors. He gives you a sharp smack on the back of your head. "Wake up, ya big oaf. I'll be seein' ya at the bloody hour tonight for fallin' asleep on the job!" Confident he roused the sleeping giant, he strides off muttering about useless crew members deserving a keelhauling. On the plus side, Gall's net is full of fish. The downside... well, there's no time to cook it.
"Gack!" Gall awakes with a start and very nearly drops his netting back into the ocean along with all of the fish within. Luckily, he manages to catch the net before it slips and frown around at Scourge as he wanders away. With a low groan at his own weariness, Gall drags the fish onto the deck before rubbing the sleep from his eyes. This day was just getting longer and longer.
He makes his way down to the galley with a fair bit of effort, mumbling apologies to Fishguts once he gets there. Not that the cook cares much, considering the state of inebriation that has taken hold. The fish might not get cooked to perfection, but at least they aren't trying to serve that Tian Xia monstrosity they call sushi.
Plugg levels Cueta with a sharp eye and a gesture that suggested he was keeping an eye on her, but otherwise left her alone. The call of sleep weighs heavily on the poor woman, only exacerbated by the hard physical labor of the day.
Who ever said hard work didn't pay off? High above the ship's deck, Artevious deftly completes his task in a sleepy stupor. He can now lay a true claim that his work has become so easy he can do it in his sleep!
At long last, evening sets in. Everyone can look forward to a hot meal and a full night of sleep. But not before the Bloody Hour of course. More than a few members of the crew had fallen passed out due to exhaustion during the endless hours of work and Scourge was more than happy to dole out the punishments for such sloth.
For failing to cook the nights meal properly, Gall earns himself 3 rope bashes to go along with his whippings (1 non-lethal damage each)
For failing to cook the nights meal properly, Fishguts earns himself 5 rope bashes to go along with his whipping (1 non-lethal damage each)
To top off the evening, Gall and Fishguts failed miserably at cooking today. Gruel is on the menu tonight, and although no one is pleased, everyone is too tired to make much of a fuss about it. Except Grok who looks at Gall and punches a fist into her hand. But then yawns. She gives Gall and other hard stare but waves a hand dismissively. Even she seems too tired to threaten anyone today.
But finally, oh finally, there is time for rest. And sleep.