This one is a tough nut. Tough nut, or maybe the nut has no meatWell. Owlbear. Were you at sea before coming onboard this ship, or were you a land lubber like myself?
TapTap waves his hands, sings a note, casts detect magic on owlbear.
Owlbear seems to lose his confused nature, and his expression turns sour. With a snarl, he turns back around. Ain’t been no place good, and not here either. Don’t matter…boat, land…folks is the same.
True enough. But what do you want OwlBear? Revenge against your enemies? Loyal friends? A weapon by your side?
Owlbear eyes Taptap and considers. It takes several moments, but in the end he drops his eyes to the floor. Wanna' be free. Don't wanna' lick tha' boots of anyone...don' matter who. He casts a pointed glance at the steps leading up to the main deck, then returns his gaze to Tap, and then Jack. And whadda' you want?
I did not come aboard of my own will. Nor any here. For my part, I will depart the first chance I have. I know not when or how that might come to pass; and I would help thee to gain thine, if I can. But I must bid thee adieu, for I am wanted in the kitchens, where I labor with Master Kroop.
Jack returns to the kitchens.
Live free, or die, aye. A creed worthy of a man, be he an owlbear or a halfling. Liberty on the high seas, it will be had, for you , Jack, and myself. Remember that I told you this. But Jack is right. I must get back to my job before I am missed to long, else I might not live to taste that freedom.
Tap bids Owlbear goodbye, deep in thought.
Arden is less than cordial after her encounter with the rats, and spends her day working the ropes and quietly observing the crew from above. She nods if greeted, though makes no real effort to engage in conversation.
The day ends without much mishap, the majority of the pirates having carried out their duties well. As the sun sets on another hot day, only poor Jack Scrimshaw gets a pirate punishment, Plugg blaming the three lashes on his “makin’ something outta nothing” in the Bilges incident.
Soon after, Grok brings up the rum and Fishguts the food, and the evening begins in earnest.
Arden takes her rum and food, gives it a sniff and tries to hide her obvious disgust, and moves off. As she passes by, she gives a short nod to her friends. She chooses a seat without much thought, and looks around.
Unlucky Jack Scrimshaw.
Taptap shakes his head at Jack Scrimshaws whipping. I wonder if he needs healed? Perhaps Sandara will see to it?
Hey Kerruk. There are just several more men on this ship I'd like to target in my campaign to turn the crew in our favor. There is the continuing campaign for the unfriendly Fipps. He would be good to have at our side in a fight. But there are others. We yet know little of the that burly looking half-orc. And there is that man with the scar, he wears the red bandanna. Know anything about him?
Without waiting for an answer Taptap seeks out Fipps and sits down with him with his rum.
Well Fipps. It would have been nice to have your strong arm down in the bilges in that fight against those giant rats. Poor Jack Scrimshaw. He didnt deserve that whippin. Those things would have ate me alive without my friend's help.
Jack goes over to Jack Scrimshaw, who sits leaning against the bulwark nursing his rum, an angry grimace over his pale face, and gives him his rum ration.
Jack, turns toward Plugg, angry, and begins to reach for his dagger, but Tap quickly steps up and whispers to Jack, Not now, Jack. Patience.
Jack goes to bed, his fists clenched.
Sandara does, indeed, tend to Jack's wounds, and they both nod their thanks to Jack's rum donation. Jack Scrimshaw looks up with a grin. A good friend you are Jack, if only I'd had yer dagger at my side when I first went into the Bilges. Ever need anythin' friend, you let 'ol Jack know. He raises his rum with a wink and downs it in a big gulp.
Fipps eyes Taptap with a glare. Whaddya' want, little man?
Fipps snorts. Rats, eh? Never 'ave seen rats quite that big, I'll tell ya' that. Suren' 'e didn't, but tha's justice 'ere on the Wormwood...whoever holds the whip, makes tha' justice. He glances towards the officers on the poop deck.
The little gnome, Conchobar, comes over as well, and sits near Tap, dipping his hat to the pair. Always the way of it, eh Fipps?
While Arden silently watches the crew, she sees a few dicing and all drinking, but the festivities are mostly subdued this evening. The man with the bandana, whom you hear called "Cog" is nearby, dicing with the big Rahadoumi man, who is a fellow rigger. They are almost entirely silent as their silvers change hands.
Jack slips into his hammock, readies himself for any unwelcome surprises, and slowly drifts off to sleep.
Tap bids Fipps and Conchobar goodnight.
Jack wakes up in the middle of the night; he stands up, and stretches, looks around. It is hot, the air stifling, and the smell of everyone's sweat pervades the room, but the hammocks sway gently with the sea, and it is difficult to be awake. Kerruk lies peacefully suspended in the air, while beside him, Arden snores loudly, a frown resting lightly on her lovely visage. And Tap... where is that rascal? Ah well, I'll find out in the morning.. With that, Jack lays back down and is quickly asleep.
Taptap sneaks off on light feet, keeping to the shadows in the darkened quarters. Unnoticed, he remains at the base of the steps leading to the officer's quarters and listens.
Mister Plugg's voice dominates much of the discussions, his screeching seemingly unhindered by any desire of the first made for subtelty or secrecy. Scourge and others chime in as well, mostly with affirmations of Plugg's grandiose claims and portrayals of self worth. The talk is mostly of the crew, who he deems to be worthless, and a "temporary necessity. He even pokes fun at the portly Fipps, calling him a blubbering whale ripe for rendering.
One voice is mostly silent, and is identified later as Peppery Longfarthing. The only comment she makes in her softspoken way is a reminder that Plugg should not forget his place. The barely veiled threat effectively silences the first mate for a few moments.
Those creepy scoundrels!
Taptap tiptoes back to bed.
I'd like to get into Longfarthing's lab, but I still have not figured out how I might get past that trapped door.
The morning comes quickly, as it always seems to on the Wormwood. The day is no less hot and Plugg is no more merciful as he doles out orders.
One knot left suspiciously loose, Tap heads down the steps and into the galley, which adjoins the quartermaster’s store. Grok is there, in the cramped, crowded storeroom that contains all manner of barrels, boxes, and chests. The door is half-shut, being a service door with two leaves and a shelf. Grok is leaning on the shelf and watching Taptap closely as he approaches.
Not shirkin’ I hope…ya’ know there’s a price to pay for that. She grins to suggest that she wouldn’t care either way. What did ya’ come down here in the stinkin’ bowels after?
Wouldn't you know it, but when I bashed that rat this morning with a stick, out came some silver. Bashed it again. Out came some gold. Bashed it one more time, thinking of riches, but I only a got turd. Tap grinned.
Wells anyway, I was wondering whether there was anything somewhere that could be traded for some coin.
Despite the heat and Plugg's glare, Jack is glad to be out in the sun, which he has seen too little of in recent days. Whistling a tune he learned as a boy, Jack sets to his work. First he looks to the nets, untangling and mending where broken. Careful not to tangle them, he casts the nets into the sea, breathing a silent prayer to Besmara. He then prepares himself to man a mighty pole and line, to which a jagged bloody hook is attached. To this he affixes the head of a small shark, caught for the previous day's meal. Jack sits back, and lowers his bait into the sea, and hopes nobody complains.
Grok coughs out a Har! then nods. Aye, I've all manner of things - weapons armor, goods, even some potions and scrolls and a wand, if yer one a' them types. I'll buy back some a' yer crap as well, if ya need some coin...we can always use more crap fer when we take on more "volunteers" She says the last word with a sneer, showing what she thinks of the process.
Jack, meanwhile, easily hauls in enough fish for the day, to Kroop's apparent delight.
A good day's work, then. Hopefully there are those in the crew with an eye for a job well done...and respect those who are diligent.
Well, there are just several items I've an eye for. I'd like to purchase some sling bullets, say 40 of them? Also, I'd like to get a good cutlass.
Kerruk is able to perform his task flawlessly, and is also able to repair a line that had gotten frayed due to someone carelessly leaving it loose. Such diligence undoubtedly kept someone from feeling Plugg’s lash, at least for today.
Grok nods, and begins to dig through her inventory. As she does, you can see where she keeps her higher security goods – in 2 wooden lockers, 2 wooden chests, a wooden trunk, and lastly a large metal trunk. As she sifts through, you can see some signs of some familiar goods – your own.
Ah, ‘ere we are. She pulls out two leather pouches and the cutlass and sets them on the shelf. Only ‘ave twenty of the bullets, but have more than a few cutlasses. The bullets are in leather pouches, but the cutlass seems a bit old, with a dull nicked blade. Needs a lil’ work, but I’ll give ya’ both for twelve gold
A high price for something I used to own, Grok. Tap pauses to consider.
I'll give you 1 more gp, 13 gp total if you give me one those better conditioned cutlasses over there.
Truthfully Grok. The cutlass is for Jack. He's only 5 gold right now, so anything over that is him owing me gold to get him a cutlass now. Now, 'ol xeye, he can swing a dagger I suppose, but give the man a cutlass, and he surely flies with lethal grace. Hell, you might think of it as a requisition for Jack's work in the kitchen, because he can carve a fish up pretty with a cutlass, but just maim it with a cutting knife. Peculiar, I know. So I offer 13 gold for a cutlass in good repair and those bullets, but if you can cut that down any, its for Jack's sake, not mine.
Kerruk has joined Tap, and looks hopefully at Grok.
Does it so happen that you have my short spears, Grok? I am not averse to fighting with bare hands, but a man of the sea is lonely without his trusted weaponry.
Grok eyes Taptap suspiciously, as if expecting some sort of treachery. She snorts then, and nods. Aye, can 'ave Jack losin' is ead to a fish. Ol' Fishguts'd put 'im in the pot, and Jack seems too stringy a meal fer me. She grabs said cutlass, a fine piece, and turns it and the bullets over for the proffered thirteen gold.
Grok looks to Kerruk, and her eyes turn serious. Kerruk, is it? Heard yer name about; that big bird is yers?
Thank you Grok, you surely are a reasonable man..
Oh my. Jack might owe me a favor or two for getting this one.
"Are you boys behaving yourselves?" Arden says sleepily, rubbing her leg absently, "What is happening here?"
Grok gives Taptap a queer look, her smile fading. Then, she shrugs and pockets the coin.
Arden performs her rope work flawlessly, securing lines to bollards and cleats with tight knots she'd obviously done dozens of times before.
Jack better cut up some Sushi with that Cutlass.
Taptap interjects. Kerruk. If that bird is yours, then you have a mighty fine hunting bird for his sea journeys. Magnificent!
Although, I think I'd prefer a monkey. Wouldn't you Grok?
I wish I was a monkey
I'd sleep in the trees
I'd do my best to imitate the man
Who does his best not to imitate me
I'd like to be a monkey, be monkeys with you
Cause I'm a monkey by myself with a lot of s&!+ to do
He is not mine, good Grok. But we are old friends. Kerruk's face assumes the tranquil look he always has when talking of Tuvor.
Grok laughs heartily at the song. Thinkin' ye'd be a fine monkey tamer indeed; ain't fer me though. Give me a crocodile, and I'd be 'appy. Grok's croc, it'd be! And not a man's nethers'd be safe from me croc, if they were ta' cross me.
She looks at Kerruk with newfound respect, and her mind begins to work through the relationship. Not many I seen that could keep friends with a bird like that. A good friend though...I don't doubt.
About those short spears?
Tap grins.
Grok nods, and eyes Kerruk with great respect, if not a touch of reverence, as she hands over the short spears. A gift then...jus' ask whatever spirits fly with that bird of yers to look kindly on 'ol Grok, eh?
Kerruk smiles gently. As you say, Grok. And thank you. I am sure the heavens shall look well upon you for your kindness.