"Oh... my head... What happened?"
Dot.
Caul shakes his head, but the foggy, throbbing, dizziness remains.
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Ah... What a wonderful night! Your time in Port Peril has been the most relaxing and wild time of your life. Hells, you got so stoned last night you wake up against the wet wooden floor. Your heads all buzz worse than a fly in your ear, and the door wobbles as if your still drunk. As you stand it takes a moment for you to regain balance, suddenly a loud crack of a whip fills your ears. “Still abed with the sun over the yardarm? On your feet, ye filthy swabs! 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!” cries a man dressed in pure black, whip in hand. Several men behind him.
Suddenly you realize, that isn't the wobble of a drunkard... But the shifting of a boat beneith your feet. The man cracks his whip again. "I said up!" he points to a man still trying to stand, oviously unable to find his legs. A pair of men hit the man with a sap and lift him to his feet.
He then turns to you. "Well? Get on your feet ya Landlubbers!"
Veltisiel is among the first to wake up, and looks around the room while still laying on the floor, the darkness hiding nothing from him.
For a moment, he is slightly confused by his surroundings.
Am I... on a boat? What happened last night?
Oh.... my head. What was in that drink? And what happened to Kath? I swear, I will kill whoever did this to me. Slowly. Now, where are my daggers.... Hells, they're missing, aren't they? What do I have? No spellbook, no bag, no candles.... Well, lookie here. I guess someone didn't check thoroughly enough. Component pouch? Check. One step at a time, one step at a time.
The man stands up, and looks at the whip-man directly in the eyes, uncowed by this man's explosive temper. Those that can see in the dark might see a long, scaled tail quickly dart around before tucking itself inside the 'half-elf's' robes.
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The tall, Golden eyed and red haired aasimar groans on the deck "curse that damn fool Charles Mopps... damn him for inventing that acursed swill...why is the ground mooving..."
When he is shouted at Wade looks to the man with the whip and considers testing his magical might against the man but desides against it, needing to gather information first.
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The man makes a grimace, like he's in pain, "What do we have here?" he says, advancing on Veltisiel, "Ye giving me the eye?" he throws a punch at your gut.
The blow hurts, nearly nocking the air from your lungs.
"eyes down ye swab! And up on deck, now!"
It dawns on you now... This man was there in that bar... He was a jolly good fellow who bought you all drinks...
Veltisiel barely flinches with the blow, and his eyes start glowing red, fairly visible in the dark room, "Of course... sir. Whatever you say." He strides out of the room as soon as he can, looking around at his new surroundings.
A small voice in his head speaks up
Well, you did want to find a new direction in life.
This is not what I intended, and we all know that. Still, most Free Captains are clods, but might prove valuable. I really should learn about my fellow captives, they might prove valuable assets- or potential sacrifices should they fail. I wonder who this 'Captain Harrigan' is.
Hearing the shouting, Murat's body responds before his mind can shake the fog. He straggles to his feet.
Murat peers about, looking for a way to go topside, but cannot recognize his surroundings at all. Wait...again? I should just stay on the ship when we get to port... He suppresses a belch and staggers toward where the steps should be, ignoring the other new recruits.
Veltisiel casts a wayward glance at the hobgoblin coming to his feet,
"See ei ole seda väärt. Need hale lollid ei tea luure, kui see otsa komistada neile selgelt. Ma kahtlen mis tahes sõna rohkem kui Ühise ja Polüglott."
Show of deference... This one might prove a good minion, or ally if the submission is feigned.
Murat stops and turns.
"Ta ütles, et aru kapten." He mumbles through his hangover.
He shakes his head and blinks, looking at the speaker. In common he offers some advice, raising his voice for all the captives to hear. "If you want to live, you get up and you work. Now where the bloody human hells are the damned stairs?"
"Ei, mida ma viitasin. Ma kahtlen ta aru sa üldse."
"Of course, sir. I clearly underestimated your wit earlier. I humbly apologize for any offense taken, and accept your punishment for my tongue. What is your name, Master..?"
He seems sincere, but those perceptive enough might notice his shadow mocking the whip-man.
Caul's head throbbed as his waking body swayed with the rocking of the boat.
Must have had too much to dri - wait. I'd recognize that wood creaking anywhere. I've been brought here. Then that means... Black Caul grins at himself for playing the fool. That gal's good. She got me. But now I've got a part to play. Nothin' doin' 'bout that.
"Aye, sir," he says to the Master-at-Arms through closed teeth, careful to mark the man giving orders, and even more careful to learn his name . Then Black Caul makes a brave attempt at running as straight as he can while running toward the set of stairs.
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oh? says the man, and ye seriously believe that I would in any way trust the lot of you? he scoffs. Well, ye have one more strike left... Now get moving before I deside to make an example out of ye,...
When the rest of you are either dragged up on deck by the man's lackies or on your own you come up on deck. All round you is ocean. The deck is filled with at least another 20 men and women, from their clean clothes you can tell they are like you, another 15 or so armed pirates hang among the rigging or the sidelines
On the poopdeck looking down on you all are two men, one an older man, bald and we'll armed- Oviously the captain. Next to him is a younger man, balding and dressed in dark clothes, at his waist is a cat-o'-nine-tails.
The bald man clears his throat and speaks:“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.”
the captain then walks away, and Mr.Plugg steps forward. Okay, I have some positions to fill... First, I need Riggers! You...[b] he points to a group, which includes the party[b] we'll start with that group. Mr.Plugg walks down next to thean who's been whipping you. you go test the others, Master Scourge, I have this one... Scourge nods and walks away
Mr.Puggs smiles at your group. This is how we'll do this, first one of you to the top is my new rigger, make it to the crow's nest and you get the job... Now have at it! he shouts.
The elegantly robed dark-haired figure gives a half bow to the captain as he starts to walk away, mindful of his request to not speak.
When told to climb the mast, Veltisiel briefly toys with the notion of rebelling, but quickly discards the idea, Plenty of time for that later. For now, it's time to play the part of the performer who recognizes and defers to authority. But the time will come for them to burn.
he turns toward the mast, nearly tripping over his trailing clothing
And I need to get some clothes more practical for life. These are just... cumbersome.
he springs into action, not wanting more of a beating. He was sure there would be some kind of punishment for being beaten into unconsciousness, as nonsensical as that might seem.
But fails to find any level of purchase on the ropes, falling flat on his back once, constantly tripping over his cumbersome clothing. If there has somehow not been anyone that has succeed by then, he takes a few moments to improvise a tie-off for his robes, turning them into loose trousers and baggy sleeves, before trying again.
He does much better this time, but still isn't the first up
It takes Murat a few minutes to shake off the hangover and fully limber up, but once warmed up scurries quickly to the top.
Grak startles awake, gasping for air, as if he had been holding his breath. Realizing he's not in water, he lays back down. "What happened? Where am I?" The pain in the back of his head compels him to keep his eyes closed. He becomes even more confused about his situation when he hears multiple people speaking goblin. Being accustomed to slavers, the crack of the whip let's him know he needs to listen to directions though. He manages to get himself up and follow the others up on deck.
He squints in the bright sun which just makes his head pound more. He is able to open his eyes long enough to put a face with a name. When Mr. Plugg starts shouting directions, Grak forces himself to pay attention, knowing full well the consequences for not doing so.
"Ugh, not the riggers," he thinks to himself knowing that climbing was not a strong suit for him. He moves over to the mast, not the first but not the last, and tries to climb. His time on the previous ship must have served him well, as he is able to make it up fairly easily.
Ordrax wakes to the crack of the whip. Startled he jump to his feet. His hand dropping to grab his mace and grabbing air. Looking down he now sees that he is unarmed and unarmored. He notes that his brand new equipment is gone as well.
umm ti bensvelk
umm not good.
Quickly scanning his person he notices his tools warp in an oil cloth still tucked into the sash of his pants.
Well at least I have those still.
His head moves slowly around the room looking for a way to escape and then he hears the man talking
Cap’n Harrigan, What happened to me. I remember looking into some work at that tavern and then I am here....What the f#%+ is going on
Ordrax stands up straight and keeps quiet as it is apparent that these people do not take kindly to disrespect. He watches as the whip master enforces his desires for the group to listen and not cause trouble.
Thank you whom ever you are for making yourself known first. Let us hope the trouble continues to follow you and not me.
Landlubbers....What the...What or who is a landlubber....Great, they speak Goblin...oh, and so do they....this will be fun. I should have learned Goblin when I had the chance.
Once Ordrax reaches the main deck of the ship, his eye go wide for a few seconds. Water...everywhere...water...so much...space...just water.
Hearing the orders Ordrax starts to climb.
and after a some distance up the ropes he looks out over the ship to see what may or may not be available to him for escape.
f!$* ve
f~!! me.
He sees nothing but water from every angle. He is slightly rejected but after taking a deep breath, he continues onward with his climbing.
Once he gets to the top he looks back down and then it hits him...
silit, si mi vi silit jaka
slave, I am a slave now
Hmm... What would the benefits of cooking?
Few days out in the sun. Less time around Plugg and Scourge, as it would seem neither of them are the cook.
We don't know that. Well, we do, but for all we know the last cook was blown overboard or something and we'd need to take over completely cooking. On the other hand...
It might just be the current cook needs an assistant, which I'm fairly certain we could manage.
Exactly. Besides, being in the kitchen means lots of sharp tools, plenty of knives, and lots of cutting.
That is true...
Besides, we can figure it out. We always do. In any case, if the food tastes horrible, well, that's what magic is for, isn't it?
So long as they eat it within an hour.
Well, there's that.
Vel's eyes flash purple for the briefest of moments before returning to their normal storm-gray color as he steps forward, "I can cook, sir. And I am happy to help in any way that I can, it's the least I can do for failing so miserably at climbing."
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Me.Plugg nods. You got the job, the rest of ye are swabs! Work begins immediately! the man points to a drunk man who walks up to Vel and takes his hand. Alright! Ye know how to cook? the man says .Come with me...
-Rope work: DC 10 Dex or Profession (sailor)
-Repairs: DC 10 Dex/(sailor)
-cook food: No check- see spoiler
Everyone make their checks for this day, you don't give time to do much else...
The drunk man takes you to the Gally, a disorganized little kitchen. A pair of chicken and a goat wander around. the cook curses and shakes his head. Sorry, m'names Kroop, Crew calls me Fishguts. I'm the real cook, your only m' mate...Plugg don't like my cooking, says It's the worst greul he have, so I need an assistant... he takes a swig of his rum. But don't you mind... It’s poison, this ship, but don’t let anyone hear you say it aloud. The hull listens, see, and the cap’n hears it all. Poison the Wormwood is, though, rotten to the core. You’ll not meet a more nasty, sour piece of work than Cap’n Harrigan in all your days at sea, and his crew’s the same, ’specially the first mate, Mr. Plugg. Vicious little sod, he is. He’d take his own mother’s liver to the butcher to make pies with, he would. But they leave me alone, mostly. They know I can’t ’arm ’em.
Kroop sighs and grabs a chicken. Now... I'll show ya how we like to cook-in my Gally
"Greetings, master Kroop. My name is Veltisiel, but you may call me Vel, if you so prefer. Are there any other languages you speak, should we want to converse freely, without risk of being overheard? I am fluent in many different tongues. Now, how do you cook on the Wormwood- I have some tricks to help flavor food in ways you cannot believe." He looks around the galley, noting anything of value, note, or of potential use.
Later, when they are about to serve the food, Veltisiel takes it aside for a moment into the corner, saying "Just a moment with the food, and I can make it taste far better. Do you have any salt or other spices? He hides what he's doing with his body, and mutters a 'recipe' to himself as he 'spices' the food.
"There! Sorry for hiding that- tricks of the trade and all- but there is no way that they'll dislike this food, so long as they eat it hot. Now, shall we serve it? It has been a pleasure working with you today."
Vel keeps a keen eye out for any chances he can, looking for where his spellbook might be stashed. He would need a few changes to his usual repertoire if he wanted to succeed at his goals on the ship.
Well, I think that went rather well he remarked to himself after his daily duty
Yes, it did. Clearly, a head-on approach will not work here. A more... subtle tactic is in order to turn this to my advantage. Perhaps befriending other crew members, kowtowing to the officers, and encouraging allies to join me- my fellow press-ganged victims should prove sympathetic.
The whole 'cook's assistant' turned out quite well.
Yes, it did, didn't it? Better than we first thought. Absolutely better than spending all day repairing the ship like the others. I didn't prepare any mending spells yesterday, after all.
Black Caul lets out a low sigh, trying to keep from being too audible.
Yay. Net work. So exciting, I can barely contain myself. Ah well. Not like I haven't done it before. Ol' Captain Jervy woulda said 'A captain should know every part of ship, stem to stern. And that includes net minding and repairs!' But what the devil does he know? He's a whaler, at heart. No, that's no life for me.
Then Black Caul looks down at his finger work.
Neither is this. Bloody peasant work. Bide your time Cauly, bide your time. Then he grinned.
Just like old times.
Caul looks around as he works, taking care to note his ship mates working along side him.
Murat looks down from the rigging and chuckles. It is easy to tell the experienced hands from the novices. Human down there knows his knots pretty good...excellent splicing. Good. The other hobgoblin is not meant for physical work, but does not look soft. The wind gusts, causing the sails to billow and focusing his attention back to his work.
When Mr. Plugg asks about cooking, Grak considers what he might have to do in the job for a moment. As he starts to raise his hand to volunteer, the tiefling speaks up and is given the job. "Hmm, there isn't a very high competency requirement for cook apparently if they just take someone's word for it. I'll have to remember that come meal time," he thinks to himself as he wonders what job he will end up with. Hearing the options, he figures his limited time on a ship combined with his engineering knowledge might help him make some repairs.
Ordrax goes about what he is asked to do and keeps his head down.
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You all finish your jobs and are given a Bink on the lower deck, as well as your own locker each- the locks all weak. There are 25 in total including yours. The lockers for the officers must be in their rooms. The locks each are rather poor,
and your given an iron key with a drop of paint to show it works with whichever lock has the same color
You may now choose to interact with the crew, sleep, gamble, or sneak around...
Kroop laughs and shows you the basics, taking a Cleaver(which you look at and notice is actually a Hand axe) and takes the chicken's head off. Trust me, Mr.Plugg knows when he's eating magic. Mostly he's sick of me drunkenness. He's left with himself to cook when I'm too drunk.
He chuckles Well, honestly, you have no need to be fancy with your words, boy! You like to cook, and that's what matters!
He has you cut various vegitbles for a stew...
Dinner is a chicken stew, and is rather tasty, despite the salty broth.
As much as he hated it, Veltisiel still did have all of his spells ready, and as such could make do without his spellbook for one more day. As such, he gritted his teeth and decided to introduce himself to his fellows that he had woken up with in the hold.
"Greetings. My name is Veltisiel. What might each of your names be? We need to stick together if we want to last here, clearly."
After that conversation, he goes to find another crew member and attempts to sway them to his side- the closer they seem to be to Plugg and Scourge, the better.
"Greetings. My name is Veltisiel. I'm afraid I have yet to have the chance to make your acquaintance yet, a terrible travesty. Clearly, you are the most magnificent worker on this here vessel. That can be seen from half the ship away. I'm the new cook's assistant- did you like the food tonight? I did my best to give it a special touch. Do you have any advice for me, as a newcomer to the Wormwood, that a brilliant soul such as yourself might be able to offer? I would be honored for any input you could provide."
Caul eyes the lot gambling at a table, excitement bursting in an uproar.
One man's gain, another's loss. That's life, and there it is. Everything on a balance. But with little skill? Black Caul shook his head. Not for me. Now, if there's a fighter's circle to be entered...
** spoiler omitted **
As much as he hated it, Veltisiel still did have all of his spells ready, and as such could make do without his spellbook for one more day. As such, he gritted his teeth and decided to introduce himself to his fellows that he had woken up with in the hold.
Black Caul flashes a pointed, feral grin.
"Name's Black Caul," he says. Wonder if this is the sort of fellow that would stab anyone in the back? Looks calculating. Perhaps he's figuring assets and that sort thing. Or perhaps he looking to see who he can shank and climb over. Don't really know. Never do. "Looks like we'll be seeing lots of each other now, I reckon."With a nod, he continues past Veltisiel over to his hammock and sits in it, keeping a watch on the group as a whole.
"So, Captain Harrigan, he a good fighter? Smart captain? Fair dividing the plunder?" Murat asks to whoever is listening at chow. He spits out a piece of fat, "Least the food ain't half bad."
"Nice to meet you, Caul. Is Black your actual first name? What skills do you have?"
Grak lets out a small sigh of relief after his day of work. "Well, I survived the first day. I hate having to start all over on a new ship. Seems that a few of the others know their way around a ship. I'll have to see what kind of group we have here," he thinks to himself as he follows the others below deck.
He looks over his bunk and then suspiciously eyes his locker and the cheap lock. "I don't think I'd trust leaving anything in there, not that I have anything at the moment." He then moves into the galley for dinner.
Grabbing a bowl of stew, he finds a seat next to some of the group he found himself with. He carefully takes a small sip of the stew. He is pleasantly surprised by the taste. "Well done," he says to the tiefling. When he introduces himself, Grak responds. "I'm Grak. I assume the rest of you were press-ganged as well. I had finally moved my way up from the bottom on the last ship I was on. Looks like I have to start over," he says with a short, sad chuckle. "Any of the rest of you have any experience on a ship? A few of you seem to know what you're doing"
Not wanting to push his luck, and not knowing what tomorrow will bring, Grak watches the crew interact for awhile before turning in. He checks his alchemy crafting kit, making sure it is well hidden in his clothes as he sleeps.
"Nice to meet you, Caul. Is Black your actual first name? What skills do you have?"
Caul shakes his head, and shrugs.
"Fraid not. Just a given name. Seems I have some sort off a reputation. As for skills. Well, lets just say if ya got a man tied up, I ain't afraida be the one'at cuts his throat. No job to dirty. No honor in me, they say. Sounds trite, but there it is. Black Caul."
After a long day of being a slave, Ordrax makes his way back down to his bunk. He continues to remain quiet but keeps an eye and an ear out for tidbits or anything that may be of use in the future.
When the time comes for chow, he quietly makes his way and sits down. The tiefling is talking again and drawing attention to himself. Watching and listening and simply says in Draconic.
Ordrax
And you are a creature of too many faces...
He reaches over to where the Hobgoblin spat the wad of fat and picks it up. He looks at it for a bit and then wipes it off with his shirt and tucks it away. Ordrax eats the chicken stew and picks out a piece of bone from his soup. He looks at it and then also wipes it off and tucks it away. Towards the end of his soup, he spits out a piece of spice from his soup and again wipes it off and tucks it away.
Later that night when everyone is hanging around gambling or telling stories, Ordrax removes the items he took from the galley. He unlocks his chest and takes the lock in his hands. He turns it around and looks at it from many different angles. He then removes his tools and lays them out on the floor in front of him. He begins to poke and pry at the lock, checking the parts of this cheap lock.
Taking the lock apart and laying the parts down in front of him. Ordrax takes one of the lanterns down of the wall and sets it down beside him. He next takes the piece of fat and places it on a metal probe from his tools, using the lantern to heat up the fat he smears it all over the parts of the lock. Feeling satisfied with his work he puts the lock back together. Testing it and seeing that it moves better now and does not seem to be ready to break at a moments notice. Next he removes the chicken bone and files it down to a small point and sets it aside. He then removes the spice and crushes this up into a powder and mixes some of the leftover fat with it. Picking up his chicken bone needle he rubs it all over the fat spice mixture and gentle places it in the locking mechanism. Returning the lantern back to the wall and replacing his lock to his chest, Ordrax sits down on his bunk feeling confident that what meager things he may find will be safe now.
That will only work for so long.
Veltisiel makes sure to respond to each person in turn, ensuring that Scourge wasn't in earshot first, "Yes, I was indeed press-ganged, and they ensured that I would not forget it, ja nad peavad kahju, et otsus piisavalt kiiresti. Nad põletavad oma viga, purustatakse väga ones nad arvasid oma sõpradele. But I digress. I have had very little experience on a ship, though I do have experience with people. For now, as you say, we just need to work our way to the top."
He eyes the Aasimar, "A celestial? With influence over the winds? Impressive. A healer, as well? If today is any indication, your services could prove quite... profitable to those involved. Are you a priest or cleric of some sort?"
"Well, then, Caul, it is good to meet you, but how often could a strong man such as yourself possibly be in a situation with prisoners that need to be killed? Surely they are dead long before then, unless I mistake what kind of person you are."
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A man comes down as you are eating and passes out rum to you all
The other sailers begin drinking their rations, some deciding instead to hold off and wait to drink.
A man in the corner picks at his food and sighs, when Vel approaches to talk he scowls and walks away, not listening.
The rest of the crew continues their merrymaking...
While one group sings, a pair of men armwrestle, oviously drunk
The other men in the crew, fro. What you can see are just as pressganged as you, some look like sailors, others like pirates, and a few like normal people. One is actually a young man, no more than 16, he is one of the few who refused to drink.
Veltisial wrinkles his nose when the rum is passed out, but shrugs and downs the rum in one gulp.
If he still has time before bed, he goes to the young man, "Hello! My name is Veltisiel, what's yours?"
"Ah, I see. So, how long have you been on the Wormwood, and do you have any advice for a newcomer like myself to stay out of trouble?"
"Jacob? Well, it's nice to meet you. Tell me, do you have any special talents that set you apart from the rest? What's your job on the ship?"