Tap, scratch . . . Tap, scratch . . . A small furry form ducks his head under the swinging half-doors of the Formidably Maid and begins to enter. An almost laughably over sized backpack catches the doors, and they swing slightly allowing the grizzled ratfolk entrance. He walks to the bar, tap, scratch . . . a wooden peg punctuates each step. He reaches the bar, scrambles out of his burden, hops on top of it and uses the additional height to reach the top of a bar stool. Pulling the pack, up after him, he sits and pears at the tender wiping a wooden cup likely never to be fully clean again. The entire practiced complicated process takes no longer than any normal creature would just taking a seat.
The rat speaks, "Beer, something thick, yes. And pour pan drippings in, yes meat juices. I will pay. Is good. Am thirsty. Need drink. Drink with meat juices to flavor."
Upon receipt of his 'beer with pan drippings', he turns to observe the rest of the bar revealing the deep burn scar in the shape of what looks like a skull spread across the right side of his face.
Who here wants my stuff? They take it, they burn, they melt. It is mine and I keep it.
Sandman finished stitching and poured odd blue sand over the wound.
The sailor had come in with half a Mwangi arrowhead lodged in his shoulder. The arrowhead was made of bone and had splintered against his shoulder blade. The ship's carpenter didn't actually know enough about medicine to get all the pieces out. The cyst that had formed on the sailor's back probably would have killed him if it had been left to fester.
The man had screamed bloody murder until he passed out. He made it longer than most of the bar patrons expected. The betting pool had gotten pretty big, and one of the bar wenches ended up making a weeks pay in one night just by guessing closest to how long the sailer had lasted.
Pretty much everyone at the Formidably Maid knew who the big dark-skinned medicine-man was. Not many were brave enough to talk to him, but word got around. About once a week someone came in with some kind of ailment that needed tending.
It wasn't that Sandman was the best doctor around.
It was that he worked for free.
His only stipulation was that he didn't allow anything to kill the pain. No anesthetic. No drugs. No alcohol. Nothing.
He believed that the pain was important to the healing process.
In spite of that, he never seemed like a sadist. If he took pleasure in hurting his patients he didn't show it. If anything, he was a fairly comforting fellow. He never seemed to go out of his way to meek things hurt more. he just wouldn't let anyone escape the pain they were due.
So, over time, the center table of the Maid had become something of a makeshift hospital bed. Only the roughest customers sat there now. It was the biggest table in the place, heavy and thick, made out of the rear deck of the legendary pirate Colvaas Gibbit's ship The Island Wench. The table even still bore the ship's name plate along one edge. Now it was completely soaked in bloodstains from Sandman's work over the years.
The big healer finished his work, put the little shard of bone from the man's back into a small glass bottle and tossed to the barkeep, who put it on a small shelf behind the bar that was covered in similar small bottles.
Bullets. Arrowheads. Teeth. Claws. Chunks of metal and bone of all kinds. There was even a bent silver coin that had been lodged in some poor sod's leg by an explosion.
The barkeep had been collecting them for years. He labeled every one of them with the name of the patient and how long they'd lasted under Sandman's less-than-tender ministrations.
So far the record was four hours and six minutes, held by a greenhorn turnip farmer turned swab who had to have his guts opened to pull out a chunk of glass. Finding it had taken a while.
Sandman said nothing. He let the blood soak into the sand, hardening it and quickly forming a bluish scab, then he stood up and walked back to his usual seat at the end of the bar.
The unconscious sailor on the bloody table was unceremoniously dumped on the floor by a group of sailors. About a minute later drinks were slapped down on the bloody table.
Sandman sipped his own drink and rolled a sinister looking wooden mask over in his hands.
Sated?
For now. the mask whispered in the big man's head.
The halfling slipped into the Formidably Maid without a sound. Nobody noticed him as usual. Folks were too busy shouting over the wounded sailor's cries of agony...
The big scarred man is at it again. Sh*#@ maybe I should leave and come back after the poor sod passes out. F@!# it! I am thirsty and the night is young.
He slinks into a corner of the bar, back to the walls so that he has a clear view of the door. He checks for any unusual hurdles in the path of his pre-scoped out escape route, and relaxes a little.
"The usual, darlin'", he tells Beth the buxom blonde and smiles at her.
He looks around the place, nods to the bartender and the big Witch Doctor.
Sandman nodded in return, a small smile on his wide mouth. "Welcome back, Rhemus." he said in a low rumble.
When he wasn't sewing people up, the big man was a fairly sociable fellow.
In a corner of the Formidably Maid, a small crowd had gathered. The Undine Woman in their midst had been here the past week, and some regulars knew about her by now.
She was looking for a new ship to work on, and no doubt would soon find a place in a crew, which was all the more reason to enjoy the entertainment she provided while waiting here for offers.
She would always start off with a shanty, oft times ones known by a many of the drunkards frequenting the maid,
Following that, she would tell a rather unbelievable, but fascinating story related to that shanty, how it came to be, and how the story ended.
Sometimes the songs and stories were better, sometimes less. It was entertaining all the same, and with half the room joining in singing, the actual performance mattered little, but it was entertainment not usually had all the same, and while the Undine kept talking and singing, the people at her table kept drinks coming to prevent her throat from going dry.
"Sandman", he lifts the massive pint of beer in the big man's direction. He then notices the other small creature at the bar.
Rillum slithers down the bar stool and carries his drink to the large table. He sets an appraising gaze on the local surgeon.
"Tinctures? Tonics? I can make what you need. Nothing safe, nothing merciful - I know, I know, but works. Works well." His eyes glint with avarice. A tiny paw smears some of the new blood across the table, then a red claw dips first in the meat-flavored beer before the ratfolk licks it clean.
"Indeed." Sandman said to the small rodent-man. "Your last concoctions were most useful."
"Same arrangement as before? Agents that speed healing and prevent infection only. No pain killers."
"I know, I know," Rillum smiles knowingly. "You have at end of the week. Good work, good work for good pay. Then you can make your treasures, and men can leave to come back again." Rillum laughs and turns to sniff at the unconscious man on the floor beneath him.
"We watch so he keeps. He keeps his stuff, all of it." He nods and drinks deeply from the mug, with a tight grip on his backpack.
The halfling watches the Undine siren enthral the locals with her song and scantily clad body. He recognizes the song and joins in for the chorus, yet does not leave his little corner of the bar.
He also watches the exchange between Sandman and the ratman. I wonder what other concoctions the little guy has in his backpack. He sure is holding on tight to it. He licks his lips with greed...
"Carve your name on the ever-changing sea with a sabre of terror and triumph. Fight for plunder, fame, and glory, and earn your place among the legends of the sea."
The big scarred man at the bar eyes the the attractive woman with the monkey on her shoulder. He smiles appreciatively and goes back to his drink.
Baltzar smiles slightly at the scarred man, then waves down the barmaid for another rum.
A tiny monkey sits on Baltzar's shoulder wearing a little pirate costume himself.
(Kind of like Monkey Jack from Pirates of the Caribbean hehe)
A strange figure walks through the doors. Standing fully six and a half feet tall and barefoot. Long white blond hair hangs past his shoulders. A belted loincloth along with a pocketed sash with a pouch hanging comprise the majority of his clothing. Several nets hang from hooks strung around the belt and a pair of whips hang together on the hip opposite the pouch. His left hand is encased in coral, some kind of aquatic cestus. Both of his wrists have sheathed daggers. In his other hand he holds a trident. An oiled bag hangs over one shoulder with a pair of swim fins and a couple of other strange devices hanging off of that.
Yet all of this seems rather ordinary compared to his final piece of clothing. A large grotesque mask covers his face. Carved into the face of it is some kind of foul aquatic creature from the darkest myths. Stopping just inside the doorway, he cocks his head to one side slowly turning to take in the whole room. At that angle and with the slow steady movement, the mask seems to come to life as if the tentacles were writhing. Just as suddenly as he stopped, he comes back to life, heading straight for the bar. Producing a coin which he slaps down on the bar top, a nearly disembodied voice issues forth, "Κάτι Νεράιδες."
Mordant Spire elves speak Azlant to non-elves as they still associate it as the common tongue with humans. I chose Greek as why not an ancient language for an ancient language?
The bed you are lying in is terrible. It feels like sleeping on a wooden plank. Mostly because it is one, and partly because of the hang over. Your muscles ache and your body is stiff, stiffer than you've felt in a long time. The only thing worse is the pounding in your head. The best part, and it's really not a positive, is the lingering taste of cheap wine.
The previous night is a blur of memories. Women laughing, men gambling, halfling dancing, blood spilling, curdling screaming, and abundant food and drink. As your eyes open, you realize you're not lying in a bed. Instead you are on a wet wooden floor and it appears to be swaying. The only light streams in from a set of stairs that leads up and the occasional crack in the ceiling boards above you. The cacophony of sounds is almost deafening, but lessens with every passing second.
When i enter "Κάτι Νεράιδες" into google translator it comes back as "something fairies." If you don't mind, just put the translation in a spoiler with the needed language to understand it.
Baltzar slowly sits up, the hangover making even her darkvision have trouble focusing in the darkness.
"Arrgh, my head..." she says in Varisian.
Almost ready to throw up, in the last moment Nivian manages to keep her stomach under control.
I'm not as young as I used to....should cut back on the rum. Unlike me but it happens. Hm. A ship...so I got hired yesterday? It's all a blur...wait...there's others?
With one hand massaging her temples to try and ease the pounding headache, Nivian sits up, looking at the others here with her, some of whom she recognizes from the bar.
"Good...morning? Did we take on a contract? I have to admit, I remember nothing of yesterday-...
Rhemus carefully opens one eye while he rubs his neck and shoulders and tries to recollect the activities of the night before. Hearing two feminine voices close by, You dawg! Must have been quite a night! Tis a shame you cannot remember more...
He manages to mumble, "Was it good for you too?" before the reality of the swaying and the hard plank underneath comes crashing in, Oh sh%#! Press-ganged again! How could I let this happen? He scans around the room looking to orient himself and catch his bearings. His heart pounding fast, he looks for escape routes and where to hide.
Rhemus is "Paranoid", so if able to in the poor light, he will scan the room:
Then will slowly crawl into a corner and hide:
Wake up the mask said like an old friend. It's voice was the throb of his headache and the crawl of his aching muscles. You've slept enough.
Sandman's eyes snapped open and he took a deep breath. It wasn't pleasant.
People were talking. It was dark. The ground was wet and moving. You are on a ship.
Yes.
He raised his hand and a gentle light danced around it, swelling slowly until it was as a torch. He looked around.
The rat man. The odd masked fellow from the bar last night. The pretty pirate. Someone else in the distance he couldn't make out well. Another voice behind him. Sounded like... Rhemus?
He stood up and checked himself over.
They took everything. Including you.
In the dancing purple and green lights that swayed around him, the big man's shadow was cast onto the walls. It was tattered like an old sail, as if there were gaps in his body. It was as though the light was able to pass through every scar on his body. The scar-tatters even formed a torn-looking face that seemed... amused.
"They're going to get more than they bargained for." the big man said quietly.
The shadow smiled.
"Is everyone alright?" the big man asked the others.
Rillum stirs. His small paws fitfully rub the sleep from his eyes an smooth the brown and grey fur sound his scar. His tongue flits about his teeth and he rolls to his side. The accommodation are similar to what he usually enjoys, but the noise . . . The noise. Finally, in spite of remembered and current fleeting pain, his eyes open.
Rillum's heart starts to beat more quickly as he takes in the view. A collection of big ones surround him, forms shifting and awakening like himself. The smell of fear and stale vomit from over-indulgence hangs stagnant in the air. Instantly, Rillum's hands shoot out to touch the reassuring texture of his backpack, finding nothing.
My stuff . . . Rillum struggles with a mouth that feels caked with dirt. "My stuff . . . My stuff, my things!"
With sudden energy, he leaps to his feat, and starts dashing around the corners of the room, peaking in each cranny and gap, twitching his nose at each of his fellow victims.
"Mine . . . It is mine . . . My things, my stuff, my things." After a few moments, he realizes that nothing is here. A short almost agonized wail squeezes strangled from his throat. "Again, again . . . not again . . . why again."
Upon the Ratlings sudden activity and outburst, Nivian remembers to check her own belongings.
Gone...
"It would appear we are not here voluntarily, after all. Unless one of you fine people remembers where we stashed our gear, and how we got here?"
With a bitter expression, she remembers her past...Definitely not the first time I'm forced to be on a ship. I wonder if they'll also lock me up to prevent me from fleeing. But why am I here...and why didn't they just hire me?...either way, this time, everything will be different, because I am different, right, buddy?
With these last thoughts, and a growing panic, the Undine jumps to her feet and joins Rillum in his frantic search, obviously looking for something very important, her face alternating between fear and anger.
A broken, miserable and resigned voice comes from behind a column and some hammocks, "It is all gone... All my gear and yours too... Physically I am unhurt, but am emotionally distressed finding myself press-ganged onto a ship by unknown masters. We need to stick together and see how to confront our aggressors."
You then hear bones cracking from the same area, probably Rhemus stretching and rubbing down his temples and neck.
"I suggest we wait for our captors to show up, assess their strengths and look for the right opportunity to make an escape."
"Stand." the big man rumbled. "Panic and distress will not help us now. Anything missing can be found or replaced. They have taken nothing from us that we cannot survive without."
"Stand and show strength. When they come for us they will not find us mewling."
As your hands frantically search about your body, you quickly realize that your possessions have been removed.
Without low-light or darkvision, it's hard to make out anything, but you do notice a few pillars with hammocks strewn between them. On the other side of the room, opposite the stairs you can pick out cots and possibly foot lockers. A quick search reveals that the foot lockers are locked. While searching you encounter the occasional unconscious body on the floor. You can't make out many details, but you can hear rhythmic breathing. In total, there are nine bodies, not counting yours of course.
Last night certainly counted and you are definitely not fatigued this morning.
As Sandman speaks, Rillum's head snaps down. The despair in his voice disappears in an instant, and his red eyes alight with rage.
"My things, my stuff. I will get them back, and those who took, who take, who steal. Their flesh will burn, faces melt. They will cough their viscera into their cupped hands, and I will laugh, laugh at them."
With a shiver, the little rat visibly gains control of himself. His eyes close and what, charitably, could be called a smile creases his face. "But you are right, very right, correct. We must wait. Wait, then punish. Punish, then kill and feast."
"Anything missing can be found or replaced? Speak for yourself, ....medicine man! What I am looking for is beyond the value of mere trinkets!"
Nivian continues looking for her familiar...but keeps an ear out for any newcomers or interruptions..."You are damn right they won't find me in a compliant mood when they come. They could just have asked! This will not do! Not at all!"
Rhemus clutches the iron skull and crossbones that hangs around his neck and murmurs a prayer, "End your quarrels on shore. Our survival depends on working with this crew until we reach port. Then we shall have our vengeance."
He touches the hook embedded into the pillar that holds up one of the hammocks and says a few words: the hook lights up and sheds light in 20 feet.
He then retreats back to his hiding place.
As her eyes finally come into focus, Baltzar looks around at everyone.
"Well, I was looking to join a pirate crew anyway... not how I planned it, but... hey. Take what you can get... Though... Romello? Romello?"
Not hearing or seeing her familiar respond (but not sensing he's dead) she looks a bit distressed now.
"Hope he's at least on the ship..."
Familar (Pilferer) | Acrobatics +10, Climb +10, Disable Device +6, Escape Artist +2, Perception +1, Sleight of Hand +2 (+4 when stealing)
The sound of feint foot steps can be heard just before a sudden flash of light fills the immediate vicinity. Your vision quickly returns and you can make out over a dozen pillars throughout the room with numerous hammocks hanging between them. Several cots line the walls each with a foot locker beside them. You can see locks on the closest foot lockers. There are also eight other people in this area with you.
You can spot Rhemus hiding in the shadows near the stairs.
You easily hear the sound of a door being thrown open and multiple sets of footsteps coming down the stairs. Several pirates come down and take up positions near the bottom of the steps, all wielding saps. A tall, thin pirate steps out into the middle. His beard is braided and his mouth full of gold teeth. With a sneer of his face and a whip in his hand he looks around the lit room and shouts...
"Well, glad to see you're up and acquainted, now 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 ye filthy swabs!"
Sandman's ghost lights flicker out as the sound of footsteps was heard above, casting them all back into darkness until the men and their lanterns descended the stairs.
The big Mwangi didn't say anything. He barely acknowledged the presence of the men and their saps. He just walked up the stairs.
Hm...I still have my color spray memorized...but now's not the time. I don't know where my little friend is, nor could I flee if there's more guards upstairs. The brought Saps and a whip, hu? Nothing that is used to kill, only to subdue. Well then...
Finding a resolve in her spite that could surprise others, Nivian addresses the pirate who spoke:"Ah, not that aquainted yet. Could you give us a tour of the place? I hope the rest of the ship is not as neglected as your personal hygiene-"
"I may be forced to submit, but I'll damn well won't let them break my spirit. I've been there and thrust me, you don't want to be seen as weak by that kind of guys! Better if they keep trying to break you."
When the stairs begin to creek, Rillum steps next to the biggest of them, Sandman, and fails to suppress a low hiss as his captors descend.
Each word hits him like a blow. With only a moment of hesitation, he follows Sandman up the steps, paws reflexively gripping invisible imaginary objects.
Sandman looked down at the tiny ratman and gave him a simple nod. He said nothing, but the message was clear. They would get through this.
After Sandman and Rillum start walking up the stairs and the pirates are distracted watching them, Rhemus will slip out of his hiding spot, ensure his holy symbol of Besmara is prominently displayed, and then will walk confidently passed the pirates to get to the stairs and follow them up.
His intention is to startle the men standing on his side of the stairs. If any of them show signs of being rattled by his sudden appearance behind them, he will chuckle briefly.
As he passes the blue siren, he nods in her direction and says, "A tour of the facilities would be a splendid idea."
She doesn't say anything, she just heads up the stairs.
They do not notice.
"A tour you say? Perhaps we should show 'em the sweat box boys, whadaya say? Or you lovely, maybe a tour of me personal quarters? he says as he leans in close to Nivian. A few of the pirates chuckle at this and begin shoving people towards the stairs.
He craps his whip once preferring to pick on the weakest looking person, one of the others you don't recognize.
The pirates themselves are startled when the halfling emerges from the shadows and look at each other as if to say why didn't you tell me he was there?
You are escorted up the stairs through the middle deck and up unto the main deck and stood in line shoulder to shoulder. As your eyes adjust to the surrounding, it's easy to see that you are on a sizable ship in the middle of the ocean. No land is in sight.
Many pirates cluster around the mainmast. On the higher deck on the stern stand two man. One of them is a broad, muscular Garundi man with a shaven head, a long beard with gold rings, and an eye patch. The other is a younger, balding man with a long black ponytail, wearing a long coat and carrying a well-used cat-o'-nine-tails.
"Glad you could join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for "volunteering" to join my crew. 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. I like talk, but I don't like your talk. Follow that rule and we'll all get along fine."
"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 killin' anyone. 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."
At that, the Captain turns and walks away while the balding man with the pony tail makes his way down to the main deck to inspect you. He walks up and down the line a few times before taking a few steps back to address all of the new comers.
"As the Captain indicated, we have a few, open positions" he says with a grin towards the females. "First up, we need another rigger. The first to reach the crow's nest gets the job.
"What are you waiting for? Gets ta climbin!
Rillum licks his gums and detects the faint aftertaste of rotten nutmeg.
Taggit! I am fool, fool to not see, not smell . . . Too late to taste.
Hurded with the others, Rillum looks to the crow's nest with a touch of fear. His inability to climb was always a source of humiliation as a child. He hesitates for a moment, but as the ponytailed man raises his whip, Rillum beginnings the attempt.
Rillum struggles, but after more than a minute manages only to travel just over 20 feet. Fatigue and fear combine to a missed hold and he plummets to the deck floor. His eyes open and close in pain, but he retains consciousness. He struggles to his foot and peg and waits for his captor's and fellow captee's reactions, braced for the inevitable wave of laughter.
Rhemus notices the oily after taste of nutmeg on his tongue.
Remembers seeing the pirate with the whip at the Formidably Maid.
Once on top deck:
Rhemus scans the length of the main mast and takes in a big gulp as he stares at the Crow’s Nest 60 ft. up, Damn that is high… Rigger is not a job I want on this ship, but showing weakness or cowardice will not win me any friends . He grabs his iron skull and crossbones, and starts mumbling a little prayer to Besmara, “…earn my place among the legends of the sea!!!” He shouts the last bit of the prayer as he charges up the main mast.
success 7.5 ft up
success 15 ft up
success 22.5 ft up
As he climbs and once he is out of reach of the Mr. Plugg’s whip, he will speak loudly so that Mr. Plugg and all the pirates close by who are watching the entertainment can hear,
“This climb is for your entertainment my mates… But let me share with you Mr. Plugg that I was the Cook’s Mate aboard The Fury and my recipes were well loved by the crew. My Mahi-Mahi a la Orange, Halfing Lemon tarts and Fish Casserole in Wine Sauce are famous from Absalom to Westcrown and all ports in between. Full of citrus goodness to stave off scurvy and disease…”
Rhemus will look around to see if any of the pirates are paying attention to his words and if he gets any signs of friendship or at least sympathy from the crew. If he does, he will nod slightly to those he notices and continues climbing,
success 30 ft up
success just barely 37.5 ft up
success 45 ft up
success 52.5 ft up (should have double moved!)
success 60 ft up!!
He will breathe heavily once he is up in the Crow's Nest and watch below for any new signs of friendship, and should he dare, admiration?
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Aerel quietly stirred awake from the drugging that must have brought them all together on the ship. He meekly followed along as they were herded up onto the deck. When the order came to climb the rigging, he murmured a few words and made a curt gesture. The elf then ran for the mast and began rapidly climbing.
Sorry about that. I usually do put the translation into a spoiler. It was the closest I could get to 'something elven'.
Damn... hope I didn't sleep with him... that would be awkward.
"Bottoms up!"
fall but still on deck
fall but still on deck
At this point, seeing others are actually making progress, Baltzar says something vulgar in Varisian, then slows down her climbing attempt.
7.5 feet
10 feet
17.5 feet
15 feet
22.5 feet
30 feet (at this point Rhemus has won, but now it's a point of pride, she keeps climbing regardless of anything Plugg might say)
37.5 feet
45 feet
52.5 feet
60 feet
12 rounds, but she made it.
"Damn, you're pretty fast." to Rhemus, "Good thing Romello isn't here to see us, he'd have beat us both and be laughing at us, especially me."
Sandman licked his lips as he looked up the mast, noticing the strange taste on his tongue.
Drugged. Taggit oil. You were too weak to fend off the poison. the pain whispered to him. It did not judge. It never did. It simply spoke the truth.
Sandman did not hurry up the ropes. He was in no position to win this competition and he knew it. Also, he didn't care.
Sandman stopped about twenty five feet off the ground, not even halfway there by the time Rhemus and the strange elf made it to the top.
Hm, this guy was at the bar last night...and I don't usually eat in these locales, so where does this taste come from. I suppose I got a laced drink
After some banter with the man and pirates(not really backing down, but not playing it out) she follows up on deck.
Ah, a short-handed crew. They are not likely to outright kill people not meeting their expectations, then-
When the balding guy demands a rigger, Nivian at first just stands there as if not addressed.
If told that participation is not optional(if it is not), she will laugh out loud, while walking towards the rigging: "What, you sons of biscuit-eaters don't have eyes? I'm a being of the sea. Do you know what fish in nets do? They flop around. Like this."
(Trying to get out of inmediate reach)
FAIL
FAIL
FAIL
FAIL
FAIL
Seeing one of the others finished the climb, Nivian lets go of the rigging:"Guess I won't get to be a rigger on this journey, either."