Separately and collectively, you've all fallen into the hands of pirate slavers.
Most of you remember it this way: you were collecting water from the river, visiting a lad or lass in a neighbouring village, or coming home from the tavern. And suddenly you heard a thrashing in the bushes around you, and then a massive blow to the head. Everything went black.
When you awoke you were in the dark, stinking, tiny hold of a pirate galley, shackled by the wrists to the the sturdy beams of the slave bunks, bunks stacked like cordwood. There were about 40 other captured folk there form all over the archipelago.
You were sick from the blow to your head and from the tossing of the ship, from the revolting gruel the pirates fed you, and from the knowledge that you were bound for a port in either the Northman lands to the west or to the slave ports of distant Calimshan.
Mockingly, the keys to your shackles were hung from a hook right by the hatch onto the deck, only 5 or 6 feet away from the lot of you. They might as well be miles away.
A few days after you woke up, the ship was hit by a squall, which turned (after half a day of tossing and rolling) into a full-blown storm which blasted spray and curses into the hold every time the hatch opened. Your jailer, a man named Hafkris of surpassing ugliness and maybe a touch of Fhoi Myore in his blood brought about half the shackled slaves abovedecks to man the oars vacated by sailors swept overboard. The storm continued on another day, and Hafkris took another quarter of the slave cargo above deck. He looked worried.
That was yesterday; you haven't seen any pirates or slaves since then, and you haven't been fed. Early today, the shouting and cracking of whips indicating that the rowers were being kept in line, faded away to nothing.
Right now, as you're waiting for some sign of life from abovedecks, there's an enormous crash - a grating, grinding noise and horrible shuddering of the ship around you as it runs aground. Abovedecks, there's the sound of snapping spars and a great crash on deck which you know must be the mast coming down.
You're all thrown toward the bow, but are held fast by the shackles and suffer more bruises to your wrists.
The bow of the galley is shattered by the impact and as the galley grinds to a halt, the bow is torn away entirely, letting in a ferocious blast of numbingly-cold air. RAM! The port side of the galley is laid open by a huge boulder that the galley has ground against.
A moment later, there's once again only the sound of wind and poundng surf. Out of the open bow, you can see a section of rain-pounded beach; you seem to have run aground where a cliff face meets a cove beach.
Pain and noise. Head hurting, arms hurting, wrists really hurting. Snared like a fish in one of my own traps. thought Healaugh, as he recovers from the immediate impact of the wreck. Slumped in his shackles, fury rages through him and he makes a private vow to himself. I will have vengance on the pirate filth polluting my sea. Whatever it costs me.
With his last thought burning across his mind, Healaugh looks around him, hoping to see the keys or anything else that might be useful somewhere among the debris.
Healaugh can see the ring of keys is still hanging on its hook. Unfortunately, he's still shackled fast to the bunk.
Resigning himself to the fact that the keys are as far away his old life, Healaugh tries to stand up to take some of the strain off his damaged wrists and examines his surroundings more closely. He twists to see if he can work out if the impact of the wreck has loosened the shackles attached to the bunk.
Now that the ship is floundering, Tresmeer quietly presses himself against the side of the vessel and attempts to force his hands (or feet) through the manacle.
He gives up when he realizes the shackles are too well made.
Tresmeer's efforts indeed avail him naught.
Siobhan
After the days of grueling treatment Bran's Strength seem to have been fading. With the vessel run a ground new hope has surged into him.
A chance to escape! But not before I help the others and gain some amount of venegance as he thinks to himself.
'Anyone else up and able?' he says as he looks around for something to break the chain fasting to the hull.
There are 7 of you in total, 1 of whom is a male halfling and the rest of you are human seemingly, 2 women and 4 men. Bran notices that one of the women, a slight girl with very pale hair seems to have had her shackles broken off the bunk in the impact. She is the only one of you free. Whether she has noticed this or not is another matter.
'Miss! Miss you then. Would you be so kind as to retrieve the keys on that hook.' He points to the hook by the hatch.
Healaugh looks across at Bran. "Awake and angry" rasps the halfling. "Who else?".
Waking up to the sounds of people talking, I groan out "By Earth's Hammer, what hit me?" I then look around, and realize I'm entangled up in my chains.
Tresmeer tries to move over to the girl that's free.
"Oiy, me dear, 'ow you dere? mebbe yur feelin' shaiky loike me. I be Tresmeer, what be yur name?"
He does his best to appear calm and collected in this chaos.
Dazed and a little lost Siobhán looked up and around, her loss of connection to the Earthmother had left her listless, the inability to find the quiet moments in the morning to pray leaving her even weaker, depressed. She'd been almost certain that the squall was going to be the end of her and this divine gift of a possible second chance was a little overwhelming.
She hadn't heard the stirring men at first, her mind still working quickly, thinking through all the logistics of the situation. Surely it can't be as simple as reaching the keys and fleeing.. She thought to herself, always the thinker rather than the doer. It was then the voices finally got through to her, blinking gently at the other unfortunate souls gathered she spoke in a gentle tone. "Pardon? I think I missed all of that.."
ack, rubbish listening skills, can I add in professional knowledge to this or not?
Healaugh fixes his gaze on the slender woman. "Can you reach those keys?" he asks urgently.
"I can try" Comes Siobhán's simple response, adrenaline coursing through her at the notion of freedom actually being quite that simple. Shifting her weight to get closer to the keys, cold, tired hands fumbling she attempts to unhook the keys from their purchase, the hook that had been taunting them all with it's close proximity for the past few days.
"Nice, you be doin' jest fine. Jest fine, darlin'," Tresmeer soothes.
He turns to the rest "'Affling, 'Affling!, cun you two 'ear well? If'n you cun, then listen fur 'Afkris and 'is goons cummin' Weather bain't good but dey may be still abawt. Be anyone 'urt around 'ear?"
Looking over himself, Cyndeyrn looks over himself and responds, "It looks like I am unhurt, though the headache is new." Looking over at the woman he watches her efforts with interest. If she has trouble getting the keys, we may have to break the chains. How sturdy are they anyways? Cyndeyrn then looks at the chains, looking for any weakness.
"Wat be yurn name den? I jess tellin' dat maid, I be Tresmeer. Tis a fierce ol' day an' we bess be gettin' up an' away afor the bawt breaks up on de rocks."
Tresmeer keeps one eye on the young girl in case she needs anymore encouraging.
That's more like
His spirits revived by his companions, Healaugh listens once more. Then
he adds his own encouragement to the girl's efforts. "You can do it". Then his gaze shifts to his companions. "Name's Healaugh." he admits. "You?" he queries generally.
Waking up the older man had to fight down the urge to vomit. Earthmother what happened? Trying to take in his surroundings amid the swirling of his vision he managed to get upright. "What happened?"
"Tis Tresmeer of Dennik, Healaugh," answers the bearded man.
'I am Bran Stonar of Highport. I believe that the pirate vessel in which we have been imprisoned on has run aground. Miss have your senses returned to you? The keys miss, the keys.' Looks to see if freed girl has retrieved the keys yet.
Siobhan finds that her chains have broken off the wall and she is able to get up, and walk to get the keys (albeit a little unsteadily in the wreckage). With these it should be a simple matter to unlock everyone else's chains as well as her own.
The other woman (an attractive lass with blond hair) says in a kindly manner, "That's excellent! Now we can get out of here!"
Healaugh can't hear anything bar the crashing surf and gusts of wind.
Tresmeer looks at the lengths of chain to see if they would make a weapon. "Tis too long fur a weak'un loik me."
"'Um goin' to tek a look up dere. 'Oo fancy cummin too?" as he heads for the stairs.
The tall, thin man staggers with the boat as he steps over to the way out without a word of thanks to Siobhan. As he does, a large splash of water dowses his beard.
Miss are you ok? Is anyone hurt? Bran askes as he throws off his sackels. He looks to the others in the group.
Quietly Siobhán unlocks the shackles binding her and the others to the ship, ensuring to be careful not to catch cuts and bruises. A small sigh escapes her as Tresmeer makes to leave. Offering a hand to the other woman to help her up a friendly smile forms on her lips. "It looks like young Tresmeer has offered himself up as leader for our escape" She announces gently with a shake of her head at the impulsive man, not caring that to those who didn't know her she appeared to be fewer in years than the bearded man she'd just called 'young'
It had taken a little while to sort out his throbing head but by the time the young lady had unshackled him Conall was more himself. As she released him he offered her a slight smile as he stood and stretched.
Oh that felt good, rubbing his wrists he quickly looked himself and his fellow slaves over to see if anyone was carrying any serious injuries.
Rolling his eyes a little at the young bearded fella as he headed off he went to offer his aid to the young ladies. "I'm Conall.. Can I be of any help?"
The other woman, with quite a cultured accent says, "Thanks." to Siobhan, "What do we do now?" she whispers urgently to the rest of the group. As Conall comes over, she adds "I'm fine thank you, well as fine as can be expected."
You all notice that she possesses a great deal of poise and refinement even in these circumstances.
Healaugh nods his thanks at the pale haired girl as she releases him. "Careful" he mutters to Tresmeer, "the ship's not stable. What's left of her".
Now he's back on his feet again, Healgaugh rubs his wrists and briefly examines his bruises. Nothing that won't heal.
His quick halfling eyes scan his surroundings for any useful objects.
Spot check (16)
Link http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1521314/
When Tresmeer reaches the ladder out he turns back and watches all the nice people being nice to each other. He looks unhappy with the pleasantries.
"Yurn all gonna die if'n you keep chattin'. Dees rocks ear gonna rip de bawt to pieces in der storm. Ships run on rocks in Dennik last no time. Us need to go an' go now!" calls the blunt farmer, his hands opening and closing as he speaks.
"Der time fur names tis laiter. Over'un drink on shore wif us all alive!" Tresmeer points up the ladder to the top deck where the winds are howling.
Siobhán inclines her head in a polite bow to the lady and older man she is speaking to before turning to face Tresmeer once more. "Brash action tends to get you killed as well." She replies curtly before tilting her head to the hole in the bow of the ship. "Surely this hole is closer to the ground, and to escape than the deck is.."
A cursory glance indicates that Siobhan is correct. The hole in the bow leads right onto a pebble beach.
Healaugh can see nothing of much use in the hold, bar bits of wood and their now dropped chains.
'Aye I would have to agree with the lady.' Bran says as he looks for a makeshift weapon of sorts.
Once he sees a weapon or not he will go over to the hole in the side of the vessel and look out to see if it is close to the ground. If so then he will procede to tell everyone and help them down, the ladies first of course.
Bran finds a few bits of wood that are equivalent to clubs. The hole leads straight onto the beach and shouldn't require any special effort on anyone's part.
Healaugh looks quickly round at the group. "Out?" he suggests, heading towards the hole.
Like Bran, he's going to see how easy it is to get out of this hulk. He keeps an eye on their cultured companion. She seems an odd sort to find in this situation.
Tresmeer sees the rightness of the girl's point.
"Miss, yurn right. I'm going te see if'n der is anythin' good on deck. Taint much but mebbe tools un stuff would 'elp. Doan wait fur me." With that he starts climbing the ladder.
'Before you go up there take this.' As he hands Tressmer one of the makeshift clubs.
How many of clubs did I find, 2?
She sighs lightly as Tresmeer insists on going ahead and climbing the ladder "Your ruddy stubborn-minded attitude is going to get you harmed if you aren't careful" She tells him quietly, usually not one to be so vocal she can't help but worry a little for the man "Why don't you come onto the beach with us? We can see the condition of the ship a little better from there, whether it's likely to collapse under you if you explore it or not."
"Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Thanks sur for dat club." Then he disappears out the top.
Stubborn like a mule, mother used to say.
'Before you go up there take this.' As he hands Tressmer one of the makeshift clubs.
How many of clubs did I find, 2?
Bran finds enough wood for 3 rather nasty 'clubs'. The ship creaks slightly under the pressure of wind and wave.
Poking his head out of the top, Tresmeer can see that the vessel has fallen rather skewif. The deck is now at such an angle as to make it rather a challenge to traverse. He can see nothing of use there.
Impetuous as ever, Healaugh carefully lowers himself down to the pebble beach and takes a cautious look around, staying within range of the wreck in case he sees or hears anything menacing.
If he does see or hear anything menacing or odd, he'll warn the others.
He quickly climbs back down.
"Tis all garn."
Smiling a little to herself as Tresmeer returns she makes her way over towards the hole in the bow of the ship, stepping out onto the beach beside the halfling. Savouring the salty fresh air she turns to offer the other woman a hand, in case the seemingly refined lady needs help getting off of the boat.
The other young woman seems a bit startled by Siobhan and Healaugh's boldness, but takes the proferred hand.
Siobhan and Healaugh
The farmer follows the lady.
She looks down the beach with worried eyes as her hand lightly takes the other woman's, offering support as she leaves the boat.
"Sir?" She calls out "Are you alright?"
Healaugh holds up a hand to halt his companions and slides back to the wreck, gesturing to Bran and Tresmeer. "Someone got here before us" he mouths quietly, pointing to the stumbling figure.
"P'raps 'ee cun tell us where we be?" asks Tresmeer.
"Doesn't look much better than us" responds Healaugh.
1d20+5 ?¨ [17,5] = (22)