The smell assails you first – the scent of unwashed bodies mingles with the powerful bouquet of the sea. It’s nearly overpowering, and provides an inauspicious reception for you. The second sense that hits you is touch – that of your face lying flat on a hard, wooden floor. You can feel the gaps between the planks, and your head is so heavy that it feels as if it could burst right through the floor at any time and you’d be hard-pressed to stop it.
As you contemplate the thought of just giving in and lying there until hunger or thirst takes you to the Lady of Graves, you hear heavy, thudding footfalls coming near. The pounding vibrations do little to ameliorate the throbbing of your head, but you are able to lift the dead weight nonetheless, to peer at this newfound intruder into your misery.
You’re awarded with the painful glare of a piercing shaft of light from a lantern, and you shield your eyes with a tingling hand. This safeguard allows to you view a motley group of men in various states of dress and countenance. There are half a dozen of them, all wielding saps save one…apparently the leader as he walks in front of the band, who wields a whip. He attempts a grin, but the attempt just makes him look like he’s in severe discomfort, as he cracks the whip and addresses you with a impossibly loud, screeching voice.
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!
Looking about the room you’re in, you can see a rather spacious room with pillars supporting the roof above. Hammocks are strung between them, and between some larger, round columns…masts. Each of you is well versed enough to recognize the construction when you see it...and the tell-tale swaying of the floor speaks to its true identity. There are stairs, leading up, past the six ruffians…you figure that you must be in the hold of a ship…and not a small one, by the looks of it.
You notice right away that nearly all of your possessions are gone. Everyone please choose one small item to retain - this could be a holy symbol, light weapon, spell component pouch, thief's tools, or the like. It's assumed that you were able to conceal this item.
Strange, for such a big Ruffian, he sure is speaking softly. ---With sudden remembrance, Tap quickly reaches upward.---
Curious. Just last week, I hear a song from the sea, grab my sack, kiss my mum goodbyes, and head for the door...but when I begin to open the door, my mum rushes over with her fist thrust forward, "Sweet Tat. Sailors are such loud brutish folk." I looks down and see a set of well coated brown ear plugs. "Take these Tat." And I did...and right she was..
---Getting his feet under him, Tat chuckled.---
Good 'ol Mum
Is there a convention for describing actions, for the story telling? I'm just leaving that plain text
Reassessing briefly, Tap eyed the most motley of the men, and broke into a broad, easy smile. Glad you woke me!
Turning his head to the big man flicking the whip. I don't know these others --Tap flicked his eyes towards a compact, strangely bright-eyed man--
...but I think I was looking for you --well perhaps not so abruptly. That WAS a fine beer-- But do show me to your captain! I came to find a place on a good ship.
Looking around Tap shrugged, wrly. I don't take much room..
I figured that since Tap hadn't actually really done anything in the first post, I'd actually have Tap say something. But do let me know...I am still new to etiquette and pacing.
Where are you, Tuvor? Close, but not too close, I hope. If any harm has befallen you at the hands of these cretins, they will pay. Grievously. And forever.
Kerruk eases himself to his feet, staring blandly at the brute with the whip.
Yes, please show us to your...captain.
Press-ganged! By renegades, by the look of this lot. Time to keep my head down and ears open. I hope this little one is more careful than he seems.
Arden is still in possession of a skane marked with the wave symbol of Pharasma, the Lady of Graves.
Standing with her back to the worn, grease-stained wood of the hull, Arden looks through the dark shadows created by the sudden beam of light from the lantern and waits for her eyes adjust to the change in illumination. Her face is emotionless, as she stoically ignores the dull ache in her back and sudden wave of nausea.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22
Arden glances at TapTap and Kerruk, her face remains a blank slate, her eyes remote and devoid of emotion. She takes in the hold again, the gaps in the planks, where the motley crew of men appeared from and how they are arranged before. She slowly slips behind two taller prisoners so she is partially concealed behind them.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Stealth: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19
Arden is trying to get a "feel for the room" and is attempting to put something, hopefully a couple of larger prisoners, between herself and the crew.
The man fixes you each with a scowl that could certainly clean the barnacles from a shipwreck, then turns with an authority, claiming through his movements that he had no intention of answering any questions or even waiting for your responses. Instead, he leads you up the stairs, his unruly posse of hooligans falling into step behind you. As you follow, you begin to adjust to your surroundings.
You can attempt the following rolls in order as you come back into the world of the living
You're led up into a large room that looks to be a cargo hold, though it seems to be currently empty, save for a dozen or so caged pigs that squeal and snort about in excitement at your appearance. You head up another set of steps, and emerge into the light. Momentarily blinded, you shield your eyes against another brilliant light...this time from the unyielding sun.
You find yourselves on the main deck of a ship, which runs between the foredeck and the poop deck. The mainmast rises from the center of the deck, extending probably 60 feet in to the air to a crow's nest. Craning your head back to view it, your stomachs roil in complaint...still haven't recovered from last night, it seems. Your survey is interrupted by the appearance of several other figures on deck. They all look up to the higher deck on the stern, where two figures stand. One of them is a broad, muscular man with a shaven head, a long beard bound with gold rings, and an eye patch...sure would make a fitting captain. 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.
You notice, now, that you're not the only new recruits. Four others are standing with you on the deck, set apart by their relative cleanliness and their apparent unease with their newfound situation. A dozen or so pirates, clearly existing members of the crew, stand about on the deck or in the ship's rigging.
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
Intelligence: 1d20 ⇒ 2
...frowning Tap quickly glances towards the sea.. Where am I?
KnowledgeGeography: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6 if there is anything to see
With a shrug and a wary smile...Tap looked up again toward the pirate with the patch.
something is strange here
...stranger than getting a pirate fastpass?
Tap's eyes narrow slightly.
Cast Detect Magic
concentration: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
I'm sorry... I just realized I didn't follow direction (I think) about what I can and cannot do this round....noob all over the place.
It's apparent now that you're in the middle of the ocean, far from any land. Port Peril and the mainland of the Shackles are just an ochre haze many miles astern.
The muscular man opens his arms wide to indicate the entirety of the ship, in a welcoming gesture. 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 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.
His piece said, the captain walks away, leaving behind the man with the cat-o'-nine-tails...apparently Mister Plugg. He looks down at you and smiles unpleasantly, as he follows the steps down to the main deck. Alright, first spot to fill! I need another rigger; you lot look less than worthless, but yer the choices given to me. Get on up to that crow's next...now! The fastest one up is my rigger.
The crow's nest is 60 feet above the deck and accessible by climbing the rigging. If you choose to climb, please roll 4 consecutive climb checks DC10; remember that you climb at 1/4 your base speed, unless you have accelerated climb. I'll RP/summarize that as a round, then you can roll the rest, based upon how far you've gotten. Alternatively, you could deliberately try to fail the check with a bluff check, or refuse to do it at all.
alchemy: 1d20 ⇒ 13
eck—*@!#..not quite awake yet
Tap appears to try to shake the night off, and looks around to his fellow future bunk-mates.
Hi! I'm Tap. Noticing the young half-elven woman seemingly trying to slink back, Tap favored her with a quick smile.
I hope they'd hurry and pass down the grog...this sun is warm
Let them think I am a fool—they'd not be entirely wrong—
Tap turns toward the figures on the upper deck of the stern.
...but I've value on any ship, pirate or otherwise—what sea-man does not love a good shanty.
Arden glances at Tap and replies, coolly, "I am Arden." In the next moment she bursts into action, climbing towards the crow's nest.
Climb: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23
Climb: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23
Climb: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
Climb: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
Do we have Hero Points? * crosses fingers *
Tap's eyes follow Arden up with admiration, but confusion.
Why is Arden climbing? There is no where to escape.
Turning again to the men on the higher deck.
Maybe she'll be your new lookout in the crow's nest, Captain sir!
Preparing a most charming smile, Tap faltered...
Did I miss something? Men are looking at me like I am daft..
a sudden thought occurred to him....
Tap quickly stills his facial expression, widens his legs and shoulders.
Let's talk talent; I have it!
Note the -2 Wis. ha ha Im in trouble... I just realized. While I was introducing myself to Arden, GM Nayr had already posted again.. Ha Ha. I first wrote this post wondering why Arden was trying to escape by climbing a pole in the middle of the ocean, but I guess she wants to be a rigger.
Grunting in disgust - partially to distract from Tap's faux pas - Kerruk begins to climb slowly and labouriously up the rigging: despite his experience as a sailor, he has never been strong in climbing.
Climb: 1d20 ⇒ 19
Climb: 1d20 ⇒ 1
Climb: 1d20 ⇒ 13
Climb: 1d20 ⇒ 13
Now is not the time to show power, someone might see, and understand what it means...with the aid of the Spirits, I could climb this: but that Elf can climb better than me stars or no. I'll let her take the prize, for what its worth.
There goes the bright eyed man and a couple of other chums too; in a race?
...ha i could put a little oil on those ropes...maybe
Tap shakes his head and instead casually pulls out his earplugs, pockets them, and awaits fate.
that's an idea to remember though
Dumb brute. ..a slippery fall one cold night is in your future I think. Then I will replace you.
up I go, sir! Tap saluted sharply.
climb: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
climb: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
climb: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
climb: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
half way up sir! Ummm. May I say these sails are in poor repair.
looking up, Tap managed to smile. Arden does move smoothly
Plugg seems disappointed that Taptap decides to comply, and he starts to coil his whip back up as he watches the new recruits scamper up the rigging. The other members of the crew on the main deck stop and watch, their jobs momentarily forgotten.
Taptap reluctantly grabs hold, and moves up the first ten feet with some difficulty, then seems to float up the next ten with nearly inhuman ease. Gaining confidence, he grins and attempts the next move with a flourish, but his grip slips! He slides off of the rigging and lands with a
Kerruk scampers up the first ten feet swiftly then, having secured a strong foothold, reaches up with both hands for the next handhold above. Unfortunately, he doesn't account for how slick parts of a ship can be, and his feet slip off. With an Oomf! he
Arden, her gaze focused on the surface of the rigging and the presumed prize above, climbs the rigging with a great measure of skill. Plugg shows no satisfaction as she gains the lip of the crow's nest and pulls herself over, but many of the gathered crew offer grunts of approval.
Plugg shouts in his screeching voice. Congratulations, you're now our rigger! You'll take your jobs directly from me. Try to do better than the last...well, you know.. He waves dismissively, obviously leaving Arden to decide whether she was to come back down or not.
He turns to Taptap and Kerruk, and one other large man who had escaped the rigging test. He steps up to Taptap and points at his belly. You're not fat enough. Can you cook?
Far above the deck of the ship, Arden takes a moment to breath in the sea air and look momentarily back down at crew. She notices the Halfling who had spoken to her and his failure to make the climb. Now alone, Arden savours the fresh air and distance the crow's nest gives her from the throng below.
Profession (sailor): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12
I am rolling to see if Arden knows what is expected of her as rigger. I imagine she would stay up in the crow's nest rigging while the ship is underway.
Acrobatics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
damage: 1d6 ⇒ 5
Bearded Mermaids but the gods hate me today.
Grimacing, Tap turns to the bite.
I cook poor fair. --Not that you are interested, but I am skilled in mending broken things, like those sails and your poor excuse of a sailors kit, and I am skilled in singing the sea and easing sailors hearts...and more
|2 people marked this as a favorite.|
Guffawing, Jack shouts out Take ye no chances with your vittles sir! Not with such a one as he. No doubt we'd all take to wearing the Devil's Helmet just to avoid eating his swamp cheese! For two years I served about the Merry Jackal and not a man got the scurvy, nor ever did I hear complaint; for what I cook, I cook with secret sauce! Would put hair on this halfling's chest, it would, and drive maiden crows from their nests
Arden wrinkles her nose at Xeyed-Jack's words, "...for what I cook, I cook with secret sauce! Would put hair on this halfling's chest, it would, and drive maiden crows from their nests."
I think I would rather trust the other human.
"Aye, no impotent maidens in this nest you galley scrubber," Arden yells down, a smile on her face, "the only maiden I see should be set to work washing the decks. Give him a sponge and a bucket, not a ladle and a pot!"
1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22 Perform(sing)
Ahoy! Alee. No Maiden Crow says she!
Yo ho row row!
Yo ho row row!
Grab ye Grog, watch this dandy.
The heroics of this smooth tongued Bonded Jacky,
For surely will he
Climb the crows nest to see, what will he see?
Yo ho row row!
Yo ho row row!
Forward to the mis-ship
There she blows!
Portside (tsch) Starboard (tsch)
Go OOh! Go ARRRGH!
And pieces of eight, pieces of eight
The Galley Scrubber's dingy dost deflate!
Yo ho row row!
Yo ho row row!
Mister Plugg turns from Kerruk and eyes Jack with an unrestrained look of disgust. He advances upon the main, his whip uncoiled and at the ready. With eyes showing pure malice, he seethes out a reply. The cook's mate you are, then. And, if it ain't good, then it's the the lash...or worse. Sure hope you can boil water, for your sake.
He allows the outbursts of the newcomers, as the crew actually seems to quite enjoy Taptap's tune. The captain even cuts a toothy grin before turning away and returning to his quarters, a slight young woman in tow.
Plugg looks to Taptap and Kerruk. The rest a' you are swabs! Now, this ship ain't going to sail itself. All a' you, get to work!
Task:: 1d6 ⇒ 3
I hope Mr. Moustachio cooks as well as he says.
skipping over to Kerruk.
Well Kerruk, is it? The name is TapTap, or Tap. Your preference...You say you're a sailor? That's great. I mean, I came to the sea to be on a ship, erm, not this ship exactly,ha ha! hmm, well here we are, eh??...Now 'ol X-eye, he seems a sailor, has the whole yar har har down all prettily enough. I don't expect he can cook though.
a long breath
Anyway, I mean to make the most of this, eh. who knows. A little midnight-oil and a lucky gust can make some fortunes indeed, eh?
In a low tone Tap added, But we must first watch each other's backs on this tub of villlians, don't we Mr. Kerruk? Tap gives Kerruk a long serious look, then launches into a toothy grin, Tap jumps up, turns and starts whistling the 'ol fisherman's tune, "Busting Barnacles"
Arden makes herself comfortable while she waits for her assigned task. She stares out across the water and watches the surrounds intently, searching for anything of interest. The deck below is a world away for a moment, and she is able to ignore her current situation for a few seconds.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24
Not an ideal vessel, or crew, but I can make this work.
As Jack waits his instructions, he considers what he has seen today. Yes, a fool was I to drink with these rough jaspers, and yet, here we all are, crimped for service aboard this wreck of a pirate ship, and my press gang dandies prance around like its the first day of a pleasure cruise. But I will stick it into the gut of that captain for doing this to me. A free man am I, and will always be.