Part One: The Wormwood
Day One
Pain cuts through the darkness and you're all pulled from your sleep. It seems like moments ago the sounds and smells of the Formidably Maid filled the air. Rauctious laughter, rich stewed meat, he heady perfume of the doxies, the heat of so many bodies and the scent of rum, blood and vomit overwhelmed your senses. Now your head is throbbing in agony, the taste of cheap wine fills your mouth and there's a perpetual sense of motion, like you hadn't yet thrown off the effects of your indulgences the night before.
The rhythmic creak of boards, the sloshing of water, the sounds of movement and muffled voices from somewhere above start to break through your muddled senses and the darkness is barely pierced even by the sharp eyes of the elven woman.
As you start to move, you hear commotion from above...
Several pairs of heavy footsteps echo from above and light starts to spread from a staircase near you as seven men make their way quickly into the room, shining their lantern into your eyes.
"Still abed with the sun over the yardarm?" snarls a tall man with a braided beard who cracks a whip over your heads, "On your feet, ye filthy swabs!", he screams, "Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap'n Harrigan flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!" His mouth splits into an expression that might be mistaken for pain, but is clearly an attempt at a smile.
The six others are a motley bunch of hard looking men carrying saps with cruel smiles etched on their faces, waiting for an excuse to lay into you all.
Uhn, me head. I thought I learned me lesson in Il-
Oh. Right. Bloody oar.
"Still abed with the sun over the yardarm?" snarls a tall man with a braided beard who cracks a whip over your heads, "On your feet, ye filthy swabs!", he screams, "Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap'n Harrigan flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!"
Uh oh. I know this type, just do as they say and you might make it off the boat without any new scars.
"Aye, sir." Allysen stumbles to her feet and makes for the door without any further prompting.
Jasmine's elven eyes open slowly, curiousity hit her, Sleep?...How did I fall a sleep...I dont' think or feel like I've meditated... confusion as she touches her sore eyes, ...gotta stop drinking the cheap stuff. Shaking her head back and forth a bit, trying to regain her wits but feeling sluggish. Slowly she begins to touch her head and the grapfruit sized lump on the back of her skull.
Breathing outloud in a quick puff,"Ow, that hurt's," her dry mouth moans. The coppery taste of blood on her parched lips.
As the sudden appearance of light silhoutte's the shape of seven loud men, "swabs?" she repeats softly. This can't be good! Slowly getting her bare feet under her and beginning to stand.
Steading herself, she looks around to get a quick overview of how many other unluckies were recruited last night as the situation starts to dawn on her aching body.
or
Sliding her hands over her hips, feeling the familar spell component pouch. Her eyes rise ever so slightly. She begins to move towards the 7 men...
Seijiro rises up slowly, pushing himself to his knees and, then all fours, he shakes his head back and forth trying to make sense of it all. Where am I? I was... tavern... then docks... then... then... blackness... His stomach lurches as he realizes he's been shanghaied, then he smiles slightly, but hides it behind his arms, since he's still on all fours. At least I'm at sea again... but where and with who... who is this Capn Harrigan?
He checks to make sure he's still in his human form and stands up, feeling the back of his head where he was struck... rubbing it gently.
He nods to Master Scourge and heads towards the stairs to go up on deck with a quiet and subservient, "Aye, sir"
He stumbles more than walks as he moves, the lump on his head combining with the effects of too much liquor last night...I really shouldn't drink. Ever. Again.
It's then as he begins to move that he notices he's not alone and he checks out the others who were press-ganged as well, each one with a quick glance and a blink of amber eyes, as if taking a mental image of them all in turn. It seems I'm not the only unlucky bastard here today.
Amerdan's eyes immediately blink open, an audible gasp escaping his lips. The pain from the blow last night throbs at the back of his skull as he blinks wildly, looking at the strangers surrounding him. He narrows his gaze at stranger barking orders and Amerdan's thoughts quickly turn to retribution. His cold, stiff fingers begin the gestures of dazing spell until...
What?
A tiny tuft of wind blows gently against the back of his ear. Turning to look behind him, Amerdan notices a small dot of light: a hole in the wood, barely noticeable, but there nonetheless.
A northern wind...could it be...?
Sighing, Amerdan's legs ache as he stands in quiet submission, saying nothing, but obediently follows the three figures in front of him.
The lot of you are ushered hurridly up the stairs, to the main deck, any attempts to divert from course are met with manhandling and swinging saps and the whip, to encourage you all towards your destination. As you emerge upon the deck you see that the ship you're on is a sizeable vessel, probably a hundred feet from stem to stern. You're also in the middle of the ocean, any visible land being just an ochre haze astern, fading farther in the distance. Figures cluster around the ship's mainmast, looking up at the higher deck on the stern, where two figures stand watching you all with interest.
One is an intimidatingly broad, heavily muscled Garundi man with a shaven head, a large beard bound with gold rings, and an eye pach---clearly the captain from his demeanor. The other is younger man who is bald except for a braided black ponytail, wearing a long coat and carrying a cat-o'-nine-tails that looks like it sees regular use.
Looking around, you all notice that four other people stand apart from the crew by their apparent unease and relative cleanliness.
One is a red-haired woman wearing a tricorn hat with tattoos covering both her arms and skin tanned by years out at sea, a short, muscular halfling woman with a fierce scowl on her face, a large, angry looking young man with a blue Varisian scarf tied around his head, and a foppish looking older gnome gentleman, dressed in a wide purple hat, matching pants, an eye patch and an expensive looking white silk shirt.
A dozen or so other pirates, clearly existing members of the crew, stand about on the deck and in the ship's rigging, watching the show.
The captain looks over you four, cruel amusement dancing on his features.
"Glad you can join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for 'volunteering' to join my crew.", some of the pirates burst out into a smattering of sycophantic laughter, "I'm Barnabas Harrigan. That's Captain Barnabas Harrigan to you, not that you'll ever need to address me. I have only one rule---don't speak to me.", his tone changes from jovial comeraderie to cold severity with his last words. "I like talk, but I don't like your talk. Follow that rule and we'll get along fine."
With that, he breaks into a grin once more as he turns to leave but stops suddenly.
"Oh, and one more thing. Even with you new recruits, we're still short-handed and I aim to keep what crew I have. There'll be a keelhaulin' for anyone caught killing anyone!" He turns towards the bald man with the ponytail at his side. "Mr. Plugg! If you'd be so kind as to make pirates out of these landlubbers, it'll save me having to put them in the sweatbox for a year and a day before I make pies out of 'em!"
With that, the Captain bursts into laughter and walks away, dismissing your existance from his thoughts.
Mr. Plugg looks down on you all and smiles unpleasantly.
"The Captain has tasked me with making you into pirates and that is what will happen. I do not have time for idle chit-chat. I do not care about any of your opinions in this matter. They are irrelevant. I have places to fill and I will fill them."
He takes a few steps towards the group. "Behind me is the mainmast. You four.", he points to your group. "Climb to the crow's nest, on the double!"
Seijiro starts to climb the mainmast slowly, actually glad to be at sea again and climbing up into the rigging, though he hides the smile he feels growing on his face.
Once he begins climbing though, he can't help himself and clambers up the mast like he was born to do so . He hops into the crow's nest and takes a deep breath of the sea air with a contented smile on his face, hopefully not visible from below. I may not like how I got here, and this Capn Harrigan may be a right bast'd, but 'tis good to be at sea again.
He scans the horizon in all directions from the vantage of the crow's nest, as long as he's up there.
Jasmine looks at the others briefly and walks forward to the mainmast. She nimbly hoists herself up the line. Her muscle ache from the night before.
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#6 *This is a fall
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* As Jasmine falls from the lines she gently floats down to the deck of the ship, like a feather caught in a light breeze. She laughs all the way down to the deck, hysterically like a mad woman.
May as well start to put the fear in the crew that I may be crazy mad, not fearing death, or my personal safety. Heck, perhaps, they will beleive I am blessed by Gozreh himself.
Mr. Plugg sneers at Allysen as she continuously gets tangled in the rigging and despite making it up a good fifteen feet, falls.
"What's the matter, boy?", he snarls, "Back up the rigging! Never been on a ship before, lubber?" He punctuates his sentence with a crack of the cat-o'-nine.
His eyes narrow at Jasmine. "What's so funny, wench? Can't climb some simple rope? Maybe we should put you in the hold as a pleasure slave! To the nest before I strip yer hide!"
His eyes narrow as he sees Seijiro more than halfway up the rigging with ease and tightens his hand on his cat-o'-nine, annoyed that he's being denied a chance to bully because his orders are being followed to the letter... for now.
As Jasmine lands, she bows slightly then walks back over to the mainmast. "Yes Sir," she states as she begins the climb a second time.
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* Jasmine again floats down to the deck and resumes her laughter.
His eyes narrow at Jasmine. "What's so funny, wench? Can't climb some simple rope? Maybe we should put you in the hold as a pleasure slave! To the nest before I strip yer hide!"
Playing off of Mister Plugg's rude comment to her, Jasmine mentions as she land, "Perhaps my talents lie with the sheets but I do think, I can be more helpful mending the sails." She shrugs lightly and smiles at the Mister Plugg,"Of course, if I'm not good mending the sails, then between the sheets as a pleasure slave may be my calling.
Allysen manages to land on her feet. Seemingly unfazed by the set back, she tries again, gets halfway and falls back to the deck.
Damn bloody pirates, coulda asked nicely instead of hittin' me in me head with a damn bloody oar!
Steps to the side as Allysen falls to the deck. Looks like there may be two for the pleasure hold. Lucky crew. Looks back up toward Mister Plugg for his response.
Seijiro looks back down to where his fellow conscriptees are having trouble with the climb and alternately watches the horizon, Mr. Plugg and the women. Each is interesting in it's own way. He sees Mr Plugg eying him and smiles to himself, but bites his lip unconsciously. This is one to watch. He likes bein' a bully and will be watchin' fer any chance to do so. Best not get on the wrong side o' him and his cat'o'nine.
He is fascinated with Jasmine's feather fall and makes no attempt to hide the fact that he is staring at her as she floats gently down to the deck each time. Now that's a handy talent to be havin', that it is. Maybe she could teach me how t'do it.
Alternately, he cringes as he watches Allysen fall, but then nods in admiration as she tumbles to avoid damage. This one is good, maybe as good as I am, he thinks, unabashed at his own arrogance. Right now he's just feeling a bit too pleased with himself. Having made it to the crow's nest without too much trouble and not having orders to come down, he's enjoying the freedom of a few minutes respite from thinking about his situation as a virtual prisoner aboard this ship.
He scans the horizon in all directions from the vantage of the crow's nest, as long as he's up there.
The sky is clear as far as the eye can see and to the south and east you can barely make out land. From what you can tell, the Wormwood is travelling north across Jeopardy Bay and to the south lies Port Peril.
"Enough!" barks out the First Mate. "You up in the crow's nest, back down on the double!"
He turns his attention back to Jasmine, his eyes dangerous slits. "Watch your tongue, girl. I'd sooner treat Cap'n Harrigan's crew to a scorpion than a knife-eared snake." he sneers. "Keep it up and you'll provide entertainment for the crew during the 'Bloody Hour'."[/b]
"You there.", he asks the kitsune, "It's you're lucky day. You get to be the new rigger." he smiles nastily.
"You can't climb", he states matter-of-factly to the three of you left. "Can any of you cook?"
"I-I can, sir."
Allysen staggers to her feet, favoring her right leg. A rather nasty bruise is starting to form on her right arm as well.
Damn, that's going to hurt in the morning.
Jasmine mindful of her tongue hesitates and thinks, I've never been known for my cooking but hell, how hard and it be to cook for this lot?Perhaps, I can find a few needed items in kitchen.
"Aye, First Mate. I've done some cookin" slipping into friendlier pirate tongue "but me better skill is mendin' the sails, if they be torn."
Seijiro climbs out of the crow's nest and begins the climb down. He takes it a bit slower at the beginning of the climb, and speeds up a little for the bottom half. New rigger? Great! At least I haven't been assigned duties that'll keep me below decks. Why's he smiling like that, like it's a bad thing to be the new rigger? Ah well, guess I'll find out soon enough.
When he reaches the bottom, Seijiro does his best to land on his feet and tilts his head to one side with a little questioning look. "New rigger, sir? Aye, sir." He frowns a little and scratches himself idly, suddenly realizing that he still has his trusty tools hidden away among his wrappings. Again, he hides his smile and waits for further orders.
Amerdan's eyes sting in the sunlight as, flustered, he does his best to follow in step with everyone else around him, not realizing that he's nearly half a minute slow.
Climb Checks: +0 modifier
After an initial hiccup, Amerdan gets his footing, climbing a good 30 feet before plummeting back to the ground.
Acrobatics to negat falling damage: +2 modifier
...of course.
Amerdan falls, taking 3d6 falling damage.
Amerdan's ankle audibly snaps, leaving him at 2 hp. Finally realizing what's happening and where he his, he knows he has to prove himself useful or being forced to walk the plank.
Anim fara gol sissteth!
With swift, exaggerated gestures and a declamtory incantation Amerdan attempts to silence the laughter of the crew with a display of his worth, casting cure light wounds on his injured leg.
Cure spell:
The snapped bone visibly resets itself in a haze of white, magical light and Amerdan is only slightly worse for wear.
He can't even get a footing as he makes further attempts to climb the crow's nest.
The sadistic First Mate and several crew members laugh loudly at Amerdam's fall, doubly so when they see, and hear, his ankle snap.
"By Besmara you worthless cur, you haven't even started work and you're already fit to be thrown overboard.", he sneers, until he sees the healing magic reset the bone. "Healer are you? You'll need those skills to keep the skin on your back if you're as useless as you look." he chuckles darkly as he runs his fingers down his cat-o'-nine.
He turns towards the two women, eyeing them both. "I don't care where you think your skills lay, elf.", he quickly reaches out and grabs one of the knotted ropes, swinging it at Jasmine.
to hit.
"The next words out of your fool mouth towards me today will be 'Aye, sir' and nothing more. Is that clear?"
"You.", he points to Allysen, "You're a cook's mate now. Report to Ambrose Kroop in the galley. Now!" he dismisses the young woman from his thoughts and smirks at the other two.
"You two are assigned swab duty. Master Scourge, get these two lazy lubbers some work!"
Well, better a rigger than a swabbie or cook. None of us are lucky here, but I don't envy those three. He stands ready by the mainmast, waiting for orders.
Jasmine leans over to offer a hand to Amerdan, a friendly healer could be beneficial...given my current situation. With a quick nod and a whisper, "come let me help you before we both end up overboard."
As she helps the healer up, she looks around for Master Scourge.
Swab? Not if I can help it.
Amerdan moves to speak, but hesitates, remembering the wind from before.
Perhaps it's prudent if I conceal the extent of my abilities for now...and pray that there are no more injuries.
Noticing Jasmine's hand and voice, he nods in silent affirmation to her unwarranted kindess.
She looks like she's in familiar company. Best follow her lead.
As Jasmine help Amerdan on to her feet, she briefly shields her face from the watchful eyes of their captors with her other hand, cupping a tiny piece of copper, and casts a spell message directed toward Amerdan.
It seems as if we both have beneficial talents, but we must bide our time and not be foolish. I am quite familar with slave traders...patience is a virtue, they will let their guard down. Think a response...
The First Mate turns towards, Seijiro.
"Rigger, what is your name?" he barks out.
"Aye, sir." and with that Allysen is hobbling off to the galley at her best speed.
Just keep low and out of the way. Once we hit port I'm off this tub.
An ill-timed step down the stairs causes her to put her right foot down much harder than she wanted and she winces as the pain runs up her leg.
Best thing that's happened to me today is I still have a knife. Helluva way to spend a birthday.
By the time she finishes the thought she's a the galley.
"New cook's mate reporting, Mister Kroop."
The boatswain leers at Jasmine and grins a mouth full of gold teeth.
"Well, well, fresh meat for Master Scourge issit?" he chuckles. "I can find some good work for a pretty lass like ye, I can. Maybe even enough to keep ye tired through the day and night!"
He spits on the deck and turns towards Amberdan. "An' a healer too? Besmara's smilin' on the Wormwood she is. Sound off yer names, swabs and I'll be findin' ye some work to keep yer hands busy."
"Jasmine Rose reporting, Master Scourge," nothing more nothing less is stated.
The scent of spices, sweat and alcohol overwhelms Allysen's senses as she approaches the galley and her ears are assaulted by the sound of a deep voice singing but the words are too slurred to make out beyond it being a sea shanty of some kind.
As she enters she sees that it contains a large stove against the aft bulkhead and a single porthole in the starboard wall. In a corner, a derrick stands next to a trapdoor locked with a large padlock. There are foodstuffs in boxes loaded up everywhere, cooking utensils and a whole slew of odds and ends on every available surface. Oddly enough there's a strange looking bird in a cage propped up on the table, the only livestock in the room. She also sees the source of the 'music'.
"New cook's mate reporting, Mister Kroop."
"Eh, wha? Cook's mate, lass?", ask a large, some would say fat, man who has to weigh over 200 pounds despite being naught but five feet tall. He exudes an air of neglect, perhaps even of despair, from the bushy tufts of black hair behind his ears, to his rotting teeth and the stains on his filthy apron.
He doesn't seem hostile, but his bloodshot eyes and slurred speech indicates that he's either hungover, drunk or somehow both.
"Jasmine Rose reporting, Master Scourge," nothing more nothing less is stated.
"I have some work fer ye ta keep yer pretty arse moving." he chuckles and a few of the more sycophantic crew members join in. "Yer gonna be runnin' messages to the crew an' officers fer' the day an' be quick about it or ye'll get the lash."
Amerdan blinks wide-eyed for a moment, but recognition of the spell's effect puts him at ease. He brings the sleeves up to his face to "wipe his nose" in an effort to conceal his whispered response.
Agreed. I'm still not exactly sure what has happened, but you seem to have a grasp of the situation. You have an ally...for now.
Amerdan gets to his feet and steps forward beside Jasmine.
Amerdan Stormspeaker, herbalist.
"Jasmine Rose reporting, Master Scourge," nothing more nothing less is stated."I have some work fer ye ta keep yer pretty arse moving." he chuckles and a few of the more sycophantic crew members join in. "Yer gonna be runnin' messages to the crew an' officers fer' the day an' be quick about it or ye'll get the lash."
"Aye sir," continuing to act subdued and defeated. Looking around the deck to get a feel who the other yet to be identifed officers are.
As Jasmine attempts to complete the days task without complaint. She will work diligently the first day.
Amerdan Stormspeaker, herbalist.
"Amerdan, the swab ye mean.", he punctuates the word with another spit on the deck. "An' I have just the job fer ye, swab. Yer mannin' the bilges today! Sounds perfect, don't it swab?"
"Aye sir," continuing to act subdued and defeated. Looking around the deck to get a feel who the other yet to be identifed officers are.
perception to spot officers:
1d20 + 0 ⇒ (20) + 0 = 20
Besides the officers that you've already met, you do pass by the quartermaster's store and deliver a message to Cut-Throat Grok, a no-nonsense female half-orc with a large scar across her throat and who carries a greataxe across her back. You also meet a foul-mouthed peg-legged woman with dark skin and a broken nose named Riaris Krine. She's the Wormwood's master gunner. There are a few others that have that "look" about them, but you're unable to catch their names just yet.
"New cook's mate reporting, Mister Kroop.""Eh, wha? Cook's mate, lass?", ask a large, some would say fat, man who has to weigh over 200 pounds despite being naught but five feet tall. He exudes an air of neglect, perhaps even of despair, from the bushy tufts of black hair behind his ears, to his rotting teeth and the stains on his filthy apron.
He doesn't seem hostile, but his bloodshot eyes and slurred speech indicates that he's either hungover, drunk or somehow both.
"Aye, or so I'm told. Me skill at cookin' is good, but no match fer some o' the cooks I've had the pleasure o' meetin' and sailin' with."
Allysen looks around to see if anything is cooking and to see what's in there.
"So what'll ye have me doin' first, Mister Kroop?"
Jasmine in her runs around the ship would have made sure she started to notice some of the details of the ship layout. When she was in the quartermaster's store she would have lingered for as long as she could, without being yelled at or dismissed, in order to take in the visable gear/supplies.
Allysen looks around to see if anything is cooking and to see what's in there.
"So what'll ye have me doin' first, Mister Kroop?"
"Ahh... r'placement fer ol' Jonesy, rest 'is poor soul."
The large man stands up and walks unsteadily towards Allysen. "A'righ, so yer 'ere, we'll start yer duties. We be huntin' fer sea turtles today, lass. Cap'n 'Arrigan's favorite an' a special request. Hope ye know how ta use 'arpoons." He walks over to the wall and starts gathering a pair of harpoons, nets, and treble hooks. "What's yer name, lass?" he asks with curiosity.
Amerdan, sighs, and sets about his task diligently, keeping his head low and his gaze lower. He rolls his eyes at the word "swab" once his face is firmly out of view.
Strength check: .
By the end of the day, Amerdan's muscles feel tight with his previous labours.
Constitution check: .