Tap, and companions begin to carry their loot and rats up from the bilgrs with all alacrity.
All too releived to escape the oppressive heat of the Bilges, you lug your newfound booty up the ladder and into the lower deck, where a familiar face awaits you among the crew's hammocks. Sandara seems to let out a held breath when you surface, blowing out her pretty cheeks.
Sure are a sight for sore eyes! What was...oh.. She stops short at the site of the string of rats that Jack held. She wrinkles her nose in disgust. Plugg sent me down here to tell ya to hurry up...figured I'd see if I could help too. Does anyone need healing? And...see you found some goods down below...do you plan to keep it?
Rodents. Large ones. Both Arden and Kerruk were bitten. As for fhe booty..Yes we intend to keep it, ormake use of it one way or another
More to the point, will they let us keep it?
I never know what Plugg will or will not do, particularly with you four. He senses something different about you, much as I had. With most others, the recovery of their equipment was seen as a rite of passage, as if they had truly become pirates. With you... She shrugs apologetically.
I say rats made some pirates.
Sandara grins. Rats indeed...more like sewer badgers by the looks of 'em. Plugg'll be lookin' for you soon, I'm sure of it. He may try his hand and take what you found there, or he may just let it go. I'm not sure he's ready to try something like taking all of what you found though...there are more of us onboard that were pressed into service than those that came of their own accord.
Well Sandara, if we had a secure place to stash things, that might be an option...at least until we are ready.
There are chests that are used as lockers in this room, but they're small. If anything, you could stow much of it between your four allotted chests, then maybe Jack could wear that armor under his clothes. Gonna' be a hot one though.
That sounds like a good plan. Kerruk, you feel up to wearing your armor?
Not really...O curse Plugg to a hot end in Hell...let us chance our arms. These are the spoils of victory, after all. But if Plugg takes it amiss, I would not have you leave me alone to face his wrath...or that of the Captain.
Grumbling theatrically, Kerruk pulls on the armour, wincing as he balances awkwardly on his injured leg.
It is good to wear armour again...but not much use on a ship, is it? I'll wear it to make a show, but I won't be clowning around in the rigging with it on...or sleeping in it.Perhaps Grok will mind it for me.
Nay, I shan't wear armor in the galley. Hot enough it is in there, and crowded too. But Master Kroop told us that we might keep our things in the galley without their being noticed.]
Indeed, Sandara, how many pirates are there aboard this ship? And of these, how many joined this crew of their own accord?
"I am not in the mood to go climbing through the rigging," Arden says, pain breaking through her usual calm façade, "I am in the mood to take my discomfort out on someone's face."
Listening to Jack, Arden says, "There may well be enough dissatisfied souls to bring an end to this farce and bring about a change of management?"
Kerruk looks across at Arden with a crooked smile. Let us hope so, for I feel the same, he murmurs sardonically, But let us see to our wounds first, yes?
These maces are the beginnings of our own private armory...but we are not yet strong enough to face the officers. I fear they are yet stronger than we.
TapTap sighs audibly, and looking back up to his companions.
Let us hide these weapons in our chests, and the armor Jack will hide for us in the galley.
We will.then see what our gold can buy us on this ship.
"Agreed," Arden says, her face emotionless once more, "The time is fast approaching that one of us will have to make our mark by taking down one of the officers so we can advance in the pecking order."
Sandara taps her pipe against her teeth and looks to the bulkhead as she takes a mental count. After a moment, she speaks again. Well, you ‘ave 22 of us poor fools we’ll call pirates, including all of us. I think that all of us were pressed into service, except maybe that fat fool Fipps. Then, you ‘ave Grok and Kroop – both pressed into service, the Cabin Girl, and Owlbear. All of them are here on someone else’s order aside their own.
Now, as far as the officers go, they’re all here of their own accord, as far as I know. There’s captain Harrigan of course, and his personal friend, Peppery Longfarthing, the sailing master. Riaris Krine is the Master Gunner, she’s possibly the fiercest warrior on the ship save the captain himself. Plugg and Scourge you know, and Kipper the Gunner’s mate and Patch Patchsalt the Botswain’s mate are always at their heels, lickin’ their boots. There’s also the ship’s surgeon and carpenter…they just call him “Stitchman”, not sure what his real name is.
I am not interested in advancing in the pecking order. I simply wish to abolish the pecking order, and go my own way. Others may feel differently; a seaman am I but no pirate.
So that is nine I count. Well, that is too many unless it were all done by stealth. Nay, I say, let us continue and make friends. Arden and Kerruk have been bitten. They may need to be attended to; I once saw a man bitten by a ship rat; for days afterwards he moaned in fever until he died. To Davy Jones Locker we sent him afterwards, though we were only a day or two out from port.
Turning to Tap, Jack whispers, There is one other whom I think would benefit from thy treatment, and mayhap would we as well. Owlbear was tarred and feathered by this very crew not long ago. I do not doubt that he is still in pain, and has little love for this crew, though he be Plugg's strong man enforcer.
Oh you are a little bit a pirate, Jack. In any case there are pirating honest-like, and pirating like the captain of this rat infested tub. In anycase, I will work on turning Owlbear...and attempt to instruct the crew on culture.
Turning to Sandara.
Can you heal Kerruk and Arden?
Sandara nods and inspects the wounds thoroughly, If the bites itch or burn, we'll have to tend to them again, but for now the wounds themselves will heal. I would remove any traces of the rats' filth in your veins if I could, but I fear I don't have the proper magic to do so. I can certainly cure any physical damage from the wound, however.
Taptap looks at Sandara gratefully.
You are a good friend to have about, Sandara. Thank you.
Tap looks to his companions.
OK let's stow our booty, and with all alacrity, let us go to the deck with these rat-ish trophies to Plugg's great disappointment.
"In time Jack we will do away with these thugs," Arden says, "For now we need to content ourselves with advancement." She turns to Sandara, "Thank you for the healing."
Yes, thank you, Sandara. And, Jack, Arden is right. We must be like termites in the hull of a boat, eating away at the ground beneath our enemies.
Be it far from me to interfere with thy termit-ing, but wouldst thou become my jailer too? For any, and all, who command this ship and do not let me be free will be, and forever be, my enemy.
Taptap loses his patience.
Jack. Are you intentionally trying to be disagreeable? If you want to go slay the officers now,you are free to do so.
Tap turns away from Jack.
Myself, I am sure that we would fail, and so I do not recommend that course. Now let us put away our booty and carry these fetid rats to the main deck, and get on with our day.
With that Tap heads to his hammock.
It is not I that is being disagreeable, to speak of licking the boots of our captors, to climb up a ladder set for us by them, like mice in an investigator's maze seeking some oderous cheese. But shouldst thou seek to climb that latter, shouldst thou seek to wield Fipps' whip in thy termite-ing, do not think that I will think of thee fondly as thou whippest my back. Wouldst thou hold back thy hand for friendship? Why should I trust it to be so? The master's tools will never dismantle the master's house.
Who said anything about licking boots? Kerruk scowls. For myself, I will not rest until Plugg and the Captain have suffered a painful end for their scurvy handling of this vessel - and the abduction of all who came here unwilling. I'll not wield a whip on any man or woman, Jack, nor have I any wish for - he curls his lip - advancement under such folk. But now is not the time for a fruitless rebellion, mark me well.
Looking over his shoulder as he walks out. Jack I think you misheard something, else you are a fool. But peace now.
Sandara nods graciously and offers a slight bow to go with her crooked grin. The least I can do. I’ll watch for Owlbear and see if I can speak to ‘im. He hasn’t been out of the galley since I came aboard.
On the main deck the day’s activities are in full swing. Much as the last few days had been, today is scorching hot, the sun’s rays beating down mercilessly on the deck. The pirates are already well into their day’s work, and are already soaked with sweat. Master Scourge sees you come on deck and motions to Plugg, who seems to be overseeing the riggers. The first mate strides over with purpose, a look of distaste turning his mouth at the corners.
Sure took yer time down there, ya’ swabs! Slack-off time no doubt; others been doin’ yer work for ya! He looks down at the rats and snorts, then turns to yell across the deck at Jack Scrimshaw, who looked decidedly unwell as he tried to go about his daily tasks. A few lil’ mice too much for ya’, eh Jack? Sure glad it wasn’t rabbits…or kittens even!
Pleased with himself, he turns back to you, and his malicious grin ebbs away. You ‘ad yer fun for the day, now at your jobs for tha’ day! Keep tha’ rats if ya’ want…bet Fishguts can make a fine stew out of ‘em for ya! His piercing, high pitched laughter is loud enough to draw the attention from everyone on the deck.
Will Jack comply?
Kerruk glowers at the giggling Plugg. One more insult added to your account, foolish Plugg.
Oh yes, we shall make thee a fine savory stew with these.
Well its back to the bilges with me boys.
I'm a lucky bastard
Kerruk carries out his tasks without difficulty and finishes right in time, in spite of the abbreviated day due to the incident in the bilges.
Taptap finishes easily as well, clearing out all of the debris and working the pump for a bit to get it to a manageable level. The bilges are almost inhabitable when he leaves, which is saying much, given the state it was in.
Taptap reaches the galley just as Jack is looking through the cupboards for something to take to Owlbear. Fishguts curiously looks on, his ugly, scarred eyebrow raised in question. Soon enough, he gets it, and grunts. He reaches into a small dark tub and removes two crabs, still wriggling and attempting to claw their way to freedom. ’E likes crabs…ain’t enough here fer a proper meal anyhow, but it’s all that came up in the traps. He offers a nod then turns after a last look towards the big form of Owlbear.
The large form of Owlbear is hunched over with his back to everything but the port wall of the ship, his massive, muscled back bare and scarred. He starts at your approach, and slowly turns his head to level a menacing glare your way.
Before arriving in the galley, Taptap stopped by to talk with Rosie.
Hi Rosie! Would you come with me to talk with Owlbear? I'd like to talk to him and convince him, that despite the tar and feathering, he has friends aboard this ship. I'd like to take owlbear under my wing, no pun intended. It would be nice if you come with me and offer your kind voice and your pretty face to the cause?Thanks!
Arriving with Jack and Rosie, Tap takes a close look at Owlbear, bug can discern nothing in Owlbear's hard glare but its hardness.
Tap softens his eyes the best he can, glances at Rosie.
I have just come on board, somewhat unwillingly, just a few days ago, and while I have met many of the crew, I have yet to speak with you. This seems a hard ship to get by on without a friendly faces backing you up in need. Tap pauses.
I heard what happened to you. That is not right, and I want to let you know that I and my friends will not let that happen again if we can help it. I plan to make that known this evening, but I'd prefer to use your given name, or at least your preferred one.
Jack approaches Owlbear cautiously, his arms outstretched, holding one wriggling crab in each of his fists. Good day too thee. My name is Jack, of the Crossed Eyes. Master Kroop would have me give these to thee. A good man is he, and a better cook than is fit for a vessel of scoundrels such as this.
Waiting for Owlbear to take the crabs, Jack looks at Owlbear's burns, a small frown creasing his jaw When I first saw thee, I did not understand. For what reason was this done to thee?
Owlbear looks at Taptap in open hostility, his face half turned to show one glaring eye and a a full mouth of green teth, sharpened to points. Rosie offers a placating smile, her stance at ease. Owlbear seems to consider with a furrowed brow, and then comes to a decision when Jack walks over with his crawling snacks. He snatches them with a big meaty hand and hunches back over as he cracks the shells with his bare hands.
Owlbear...jus Owlbear.
He glances down at his burnt skin as he sucks the meat out of a claw. Its nothing.
Arden returns to the rigging.
Well Owlbear is a kick ass moniker...one could do worse. But hey. If you need anything, or just want some company, come sit with us sme evening at the meal.
Owlbear grunts, then turns his eyes up to look at Taptap. Why?
In what seems to be his typical less-than-verbose nature, Owlbear meems to mean either why would I sit with you, or why do you care?
Well Jack has good stories, and I can sing fairly well
Owls, everyone is fond of owls
Except for mice and shrews and Simon Cowells
And you know why they come for you
The owls in your dressing room, the owls in your gravy
Even if you hide at sea, there's owls in the navy
Simon Cowell, your days are numbered
Owls will get you while you slumber, in the night they'll come for you
And tear your crazy legs in two
'Cause you're the king of the beavers, the king of the beavers
You cannot deceive us, and you can't fool owls!
The king of the beavers, the king of the beavers
You cannot deceive us, and you can't fool owls!
Owlbear listens through the song, either through interest or merely lack of anything to say. He finishes off the crabs and furrows his brow. Rosie, seeing it, steps towards the big man. Remember, Owlbear - you still owe me that arm wrestling match, too. she gives him a wink, which confuses him even further, but he looks down at her arms nonetheless.
I'll win.
Rosie doesn't offer a rebuttal, but gives the big man a lopsided grin.