Kerruk, a fart joke might earn thee a more welcome reception. Be thou not shy! Our Grok is a merry soul, who loves good bawdy cheer.
“By trade I am a f~&+er, miss
so may your heart be filled with bliss”
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The rum should come early tonight. Do we get 7th day off?
GM Nayr rook the weekens off.
yeesh. what a long day at sea
Bored, Jack thumbs through his cook book, given to him by Fishguts. Wow thinks Jack, maybe there is more to this than I thought.
Jack notices that the ship seems to have stopped moving. Becalmed at sea? What does that portend? With that, Jack begins humming a song he knows:
Becalmed upon the sea of Thought,
Still unattained the land it sought,
My mind, with loosely-hanging sails,
Lies waiting the auspicious gales.
On either side, behind, before,
The ocean stretches like a floor,--
A level floor of amethyst,
Crowned by a golden dome of mist.
Blow, breath of inspiration, blow!
Shake and uplift this golden glow!
And fill the canvas of the mind
With wafts of thy celestial wind.
Blow, breath of song! until I feel
The straining sail, the lifting keel,
The life of the awakening sea,
Its motion and its mystery!
Ah Longfellow, thou wert a poet indeed.
A nice song. May have to give Jack some voice lessons though
TapTap claps Jack on the back Do you think we will long at sea?
Ah, Tap, I do miss the sight of the sea; not a breath of fresh air here do I have, nor sight of the sun. But my sailor's heart says that it may be, but it may not. The weather is as fickle as a sailor's heart, they say (or some do, for others are wont to say that no heart is as true and steady!)
Grok! I saw a whistle and a fiddle locked up in that room of yours. Knives and rum, I understand. But whistles and fiddles? Let them be free. Dost thou not feel how we are now becalmed? What ship can sail without the dancing of the Little Breezes? And which of them will dance when no one will play for them?
Grok looks at Kerruk in suspicion, then glances at Sandara as if the woman was somehow pulling one over on her. However, her eyes widen slightly at Kerruk’s claims, and she looks to her lockers. Damned sea witch here, spirits of the stars there…all cursin’ goods that’d be sold or used! I won’t be losin’ an arm or be turned inta’ a barnacle, but I ain’t losin’ my ‘ead either. These goods be the cap’n’s now…don’t ya think he’d be comin’ my way if he’s seein’ everyone walkin’ round with their stuff now?
Fishguts laughs heartily at Jack, and claps him on his shoulder as he looks across to Grok. Sure enough e’d be angry, but maybe there’s somethin’ here or there that e’d not be seein.
Grok looks back to Kerruk. Well…I maybe can part with the worst of ‘em…can’t all a’ this stuff be cursed anyhow. What’s the worst?
Why, your magic!
I'm joking! I came for no other purpose but to learn more about you. You seem an interesting fellow, and I've need of interesting friends! Louts there are, and enough of them on this ship. But my friends are not louts, and are indeed interesting...and in such times, having interesting friends is better than findimg a knife im ones back over spilt rum.
How come you this ship? Freely or with a lump on your skull?
Kerruk makes a great show of muttering and gesturing as he grabs the requested items (assume here that he regains any items requested by Arden and Tap), occasionally growling like a beast and clicking his fingers. Oh yes, this is dangerous indeed, Grok! If I do not exorcise these things immediately our voyage will be doomed...and the fair Wormwood will sink faster than Fipps vacates his bowels at the sight of Jack, here.
A gratuitous compliment my friend.
Arden spends the day in the crow's nest, as usual she keeps an eye on the deck and her fellow crew members from her high vantage place in the crow's nest.
Grok grunts at the requests and shakes her head, but she digs through the lockers to get the goods. Her eyes widen at Jack's pack. Now, ye're sure ta' get me Keelhauled! Where ya' be hid in' that then?.
Fishguts looks over from the galley and gives the pack an appraising look as he wipes his hands on a towel that appears far grimier than the stubby digits. Bah, 'e can keep that here in the galley; sure it won't be noticed with all this other junk. Just come an' get some thin' when ya' need it, Jack.
A look passes between Grok and Fishguts - it appears to be a request for affirmation of your trustworthiness, and Fishguts offers the slightest of nods. Grok sighs again and turns to Kerruk. Get me caught, and the sea witch'll be the' least a' yer worries!
Tap's face erupted into a grin. Rosie is a darling. Between you and me, I've gotten her fiddle back from Grok and was going to surprise her with it this eve as I performed for the crew
In any case, I'd better be back to the ropes now. I just had a moment. Come join us some eve to share stories.
Kerruk responds to Grok with a swift bow and a cheeky grin. All will be well, Madam Grok!
After everything is apportioned out, Kerruk stows his potions, soap and journal in his footlocker.
Thanks Kerruk.
Tap takes the fiddle, and fastens it and its bow with a bit of cloth, and stows it in his locker. Tap unfastens the sling from the staff, folds it and slips it into a pocket. The innocent looking staff, Tap leans against his locker. When a near bye sailor eyed Tap,This is my tall stick, when I's a needs it..I can't be asking you tall louts to get doodads off every high shelf, now can I? . Tap grins.
Jack gives Grok and Fishguts expressions of his gratitude, and quickly stashes his pack behind some barrels of salted herring.
Ah hmm. Now I'd no real romantic intentions on Rosie...well I hadn't yet anyway. And I could see as how this would play for you, indeed. Well let me think on it...as there were other transactions and people involved in the process of aquiring that fiddle. Come see me at the evening meal, before my performance, and we will tqlk over our rqtion of rum.
This gnome seems a nice fellow, but I.wonder abojt that fellow
Tap takes his leave and returns to his locker. Looking at the fiddle, Tap casts Detect Magic,
and makes an appraisal.
Tap.picks.up the fiddle and attempts to play a tune
Never was much of a fiddle playrr
Watching Tap take his leave, Jack laughs and turns to Fishguts. Dear, Ambrose, I do believe that our TapTap has in his heart that muscular halfling Rosie. A romantic at heart, despite his boyish exterior.
With that, Jack goes on with his chores preparing the evening meal. Suddenly, a distant noise sent shivers up Jack and Fishguts' backs. they turn to each other in mock horror.
Lords of the sea, what is that screeching noise? A banshee? Not a siren, certainly. Jack and Ambrose use their ear plugs. Ah, much better.
The fiddle itself is quite well made, if a bit out of tune from disuse. It doesn't seem to have any magical properties, unless the shriek of a thousand dying cats that it emits when you strum it holds some power other than annoyance.
OK. The gnome isn't greedy, just love sick. I might give it to him for free, but a little gold could be useful indeed.
Jack wanders over to Tap, and gives the fiddle a knowing look. Yes, its a fiddle. Definitely. Probably worth a pixie's weight in gold. But it is not its value in gold that thou shouldst be weighing, but what it is worth to that worthy lovestruck gnome. Would he trade his hat for it?
Well. There are several things to consider. The gnome says he will offer gold for the fiddle, a fair price says he, and gold is useful. However, my original intent was to cement my friendship with Rosie as part of my campaign to establish ourselves on the wormwood. So, if I take gold for the fiddle I do not gain that. However, if I refuse the gnome, the gnome will be less inclined to support us later. So how do I win all rounds?
Tap looks around at Jack.
I could take just enough gold in order to cover my supposed costs, but insist that, as having just met the gnome, the gnome announces tonight in full view his intent to give Rose a gift, thereupon I present his gift to him to give to her. What do you think?
Friend Tap, thou must make they own mind on this. But if thou wouldst take my advice, thou should first decide what sort of pirate thou art, or would like to be seen as. Is what this gnome says is true, then he is pirate perforce, not by choice or inclination. Therefore, ask from him some token, or future favor, and win Rosie's friendship in some other way.
Perhaps Kerruk may take a look. Tis not magical, but it could be a masterwork instrument. It is not obviously bad, anyway. Still, I took the fiddle not for gain, but to gift. I'll take a recovery fee, and request that he give it to Rosie by tomorrow eve. Let it be an objective test of his faithfulness to his word.
'tis a fiddle true, Taptap, but I know little enough about such things. It seems well enough to my untrained eye. And although I am not privy to your situation with this gnome and Rosie, your plan sounds a likely one.
Come join me, friend Grok, and I shall tell you the tale of Four-Fisted Melba, the terror of Katapesh!
Kerruk is not a naturally gifted storyteller but does his best to entertain Grok by dipping into his sailor's fund of stories.
He also watches Grok keenly in order to ascertain as best as he can her temperament and allegiance. (obviously, he's aware that Grok and Fishguts are friends)
Taptap borrows Jacks dagger for a bit and carefully inserts the dagger into the left f hole and scratches a shallow, small, and almost imperceptible 'G' into the wood at the base plate. Tap returns the dagger and then makes his way to the gnome in the ridiculous hat.
Well my gnomish friend...although your name escapes me...I think your request is reasonable...even admirable. I've only one small request...that you present Rosie with the gift within the next three days, for I wish mightily to have instrumental accompaniment from Rosie, and I may inadvertently reveal your intention to give her fiddle back to her before long...
Tap fixed him with a menacing glare, salted with a grin.
...and may I say, as I have just met you, I and my friends would be most disappointed were Rosie not to receive here fiddle.....But that should just be reassuring to you, friend.
Tap smiles even more warmly.
Let's make a deal for a fair price to cover my expense, and I'll give you Rosie's fiddle. Sooo friend, what do you feel is this fiddle's fair value? Tis a beauty indeed, and sings so sweetly... perhaps a masterwork? Ah now, I'm not to set out to profit, and indeed willing to lose some money on the deal...so though its worth more, say 15 gp?
Conchobar's eyes flash, either with excitement at getting the fiddle or with a stifled retort at the indications of Tap's words. In the end, he grins a wolfish grin. My new friend, Taptap, you are a fine gentleman indeed. He offers a bow, and he sweeps his hat across his body in a poetic nature. I will of course pay the ransom to free this fiddle for that beautiful creature Rosie to strum it's strings.
The bloody hour is surprisingly low on candidates for entertainment. A few lashes are all that comes about, as the crew seems to be working together quite well. Plugg does a poor job of hiding his dissappointment.
Grok steps onto the main deck with the rum, and the evening begins in full. Dinner is better than it has been in quite a while, even after the best had been served to the captain for his "special" meal.
Taptap takes his ration of rum and sits down with Kerruk and Grok.
Very nice tale Kerruk. Tap pats his new friend on the back. Turning to Grok.
But I'd love to hear from Cutthroat Grok. You seem the sort to have a tale or two worth the hearing. How did the excellent Grok find the sea?
A
For evening Action, Jack joins Tap and Kerruk to spend time with Grok.
Yes, a fine tale, and one to make one think, I think. But Grok, do tell us thy tale, as I can see from thy visage that thou has one to tell. But before this, tell me, who is it that sits yonder in shadows, tanned and muscular, but dotted with black stops and white feathers? I have not seen him before or his like.
Grok looks at Kerruk with suspicion, her eyes drifting towards your person as if expecting one of the accursed items to jump out at her and set upon her with Besmara's vengeance. Nonetheless, she sits to hear the tale, her rum ration in her hands. At the close of Kerruk's tale, she hoots her enjoyment as she raises her clay cup, then snorts her amusement. By this time, quite the crowd has gathered.
Grok glances aside at Taptap, and her face lights with enjoyment, though she feigns embarrassment at having been singled out. She sets down her cup and stretches to her full height, which is considerable indeed. Oy' guess there's a story er two ta' be had at sea on this tub, not ta' doubt. Now. not sure ya' know, but our own Fishguts an' I met before we shared our misery here on tha' Wormwood.
She glances aside at the cook, who grunts in response and raises his own cup in toast with a hearty Har!
Grok toasts in return and continues. See, our cook 'ere ain't always worked on feedin' smelly, ungrateful pirates like ourselves. Nah, once he was a professional chef type at the best restaurant in Port Peril! Always busy, always wanted, 'e was rubbin' elbows with the richest an' snobbiest folks ya'd ever meet. Ol' Grok...why, yer Grok was tha' muscle...I kept in tha' back mostly, but when dey wanted someone ta' look mean, well that was what I did.
So, this one night...some lil girl comes in, with a big 'ol fella' she been with, and dey're not so happy. Yellin' about Chef Kroop and his beguilin' ways...his charm and panache! Ha! Even Fishguts chortles at this, his belly-laugh genuine. 'Fore I knew what was what, the big fella' stomped back an' had our friend Kroop up against a potrack, lookin' ta' squeeze the life outta' 'im.
This guy, 'e gives me a look, an' 'is eyes git big - I got me club an' a mind ta' use it after all. But, ain't me that shuts 'is eyes...while e's lookin' at me, Fishguts 'ere hits tha' fool with a heavy iron skillet, still steamin' hot. Shrimps and a butter sauce go everywhere, splatterin' and burnin' the poor sod. His girl screams, and runs out...so does some of the wait staff.
But not our Fishguts...nah, not him. Ya' know what he does? He looks down at tha' burned fella', swipes a finger on 'is shirt, and tastes 'is sauce! Turns ta' yell at 'is cooks..."Needs garlic, needs garlic!
She nearly loses herself in laughter at this point, as does Fishguts and some of the gathered pirates. Grok wipes a tear from her eyes. Garlic...'er shrimp...either way, that poor sod had a mark on 'is face that'd last a lifetime...shows ya'...never cross the cook!
After her tale, Grok settles back into her seat. She eyes Jack with now-trusting eyes. Ahh...that fella'. Name's Owlbear Hartshorn...one a' the strongest fella's I ever seen. E's Plugg's pet enforcer...the first mate uses 'im when he needs ta' make an example outta' someone. You talk to him?