You all "awaken" in the same room, it smells of the sea, salt and something you cannot even describe...
You taste a spice on your tongue called "nutmeg"...
The aftertaste of nutmeg is a clear sign of Taggit poisoning...
A strange looking construct is right next to all of you, he is bound in a massive net...
You walked out of the inn and were beset upon by numerous thugs, you were quickly captured in a net...
Make a sleight of hand check, if you beat the dc of 15 you can have one thing on you such as a dagger in your boot...
Perception check
Drahzar wakes up, disoriented and wondering how he got here. He immediately feels around for his myriad weapons, then looking around for anything worth using in a fight. There is a terrible taste in his mouth that he cannot seem to get rid of.
"Ahh. You wake."
Says a deep gravelly voice to Drahzar as he begins to stir.
" They took our weapons."
Barnacle remains quiet after, sitting motionless under his net.
not sure what i might have on me thanks to sleight of hand.
if i had my Mass Reallocation Unit device, it would potentially have most of my stuff in there.
if i had my Rocbar, that might make the most sense.
failing that, the thundershot would really be the most helpful.
in addition, i have an internal toolkit implant with tools for engineering. with a small metal pipe, some carved wood, a tad bit of rope, i might be able to put together a crude firearm and some bullets that'll last a combat. or it could explain the thundershot being secreted in pieces on my person. it would really depend on what i was doing when i was captured.
Kree snaps to wakefulness and immediately reaches for her sateq, the infamous finned glaive-like sahuagin weapon her malenti foster-parents gave her, only to find it absent. Dismayed, she looks around at her fellow captives, then frowns suddenly.
"Nutmeg? So...taggit poisoning. Not slavers then?"
Then Kree remembers her manners.
"I'm Kree." Kree closes her eyes and feels the surface beneath her for a moment. "Are we moving? Are we aboard a craft?"
"Taggit poisoning?" I say. "Can't be, I always-"
Always cast Detect Poison before every meal. But last night... I hadn't. Just one night, just one moment of distraction... and now I was here.
"Okay, Taggit poisoning," I nodded, accepting the other woman's expertise. A friendly gesture that cost me nothing, even if she were wrong. "Not slavers?" I ask, glancing around. "Why does that mean it isn't slavers? It looks like there's some labor left in most of you." I paused. "Us."
"I believe we are in the hold of a ship."
" Yes. We are. Not slavers. I think we have been..... Shanghaied? Conscripted anyway, to work on, or service this ship."
Looking around at the wooden walls and floor..
" It does indeed need some work."
As you speak you hear the sound of many walking and seven enter the hold, six of them are pirates bearing saps. The seventh is an ugly looking beast, the expression on his face might be mistaken for pain but is clearly an attempt to "smile"...
His voice is like that of the slavers you herd hawking their "wares" at market in Stormreach...
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!
"Might as well be slaves..." mutters Kree as she rises and follows the directions given, trying to hide her indignation beneath a veil of drugged stupor...
Drahzar follows Kree out of the hold, attempting to appear still mildly affected by the drugs.
Panic pushes me to act, to attack, to burn them all... but the warm, comfortable feeling I sense from Kiss stays in instinct, soothes me. He's probably basking, or curled up somewhere warm. It... probably wouldn't have been wise, anyway. The ship's messy and well-tarred, a tinderbox waiting for a spark... and it seems the doorway we've been addressed through is the only one.
If I'd flamed them, we'd likely have burned or choked to death in this room.
The enormity of it shocks me to stillness, and I only manage to mutter agreement with the shifter woman as I fall in shuffling step behind her, hoping the day wouldn't be bright.
At the mention of getting up on deck, Barnacle holds up his hands, wrapped in the net, and shrugs.
" Would that I could..."
Calloran gets up, feeling the comforting weight of his wrench in his right boot. He stands up, bracing against the wall, and when walking appears to have a bum leg. In the light of day, it becomes obvious that one of his arms looks much more like that of a Warforged than a human.
Kree's eyes raise at the sight of Calloran's crafted arm.
There's more to that one than meets the eye. Wonder whatthe drow woman is looking for...
The pirates quickly untangle the net and roughly shove the construct before them to meet with destiny...
As you all arrive on deck you see two figures of particular note, One of them is a broad, muscular man with a shaven head, a long beard bound with gold rings and an eye patch. The other is a younger, balding man with a long black ponytail, wearing a long coat and carrying a nasty looking cat-o’-nine-tails.
It seems your not the only "new" people, four others stand on the deck who look like they too have been press ganged... Around you both on deck and in the rigging are a dozen other pirates who look like they have been on this ship for a while...
As you arrive the bearded man speaks, his voice cruel and thunderous.
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 all 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.
Finished with his speech the Captain retires to his quarters...
Mister Pluggs smiles down upon you all, he fondly strokes his cat-o’-nine-tails. He then speaks his voice like that squeaky bully you all knew growing up, "cept" this one apparently did grow up...
Lubbers, get on the damn mast! The one who makes it up there first is the new rigger! With those words Pluggs cracks his whip against the deck.
"and here I was hoping at least the captain was literate" drahzar mumbles to those around him.
[+1 Str, +2 Shifter]
[+1 Str, +2 Shifter]
[+1 Str, +2 Shifter]
Kree climbs nimbly at first, but whether fatigued, the after effects of the taggit. overconfidence or just a lack of concentration she seems to climb less well toward the end...
Staggering to a halt as the Captain begins to address them, Barnacle looks round with interest at the ship.
This my not be so bad... I was created for this type of work after all...
When commanded he nods to the person named Plugg and begins to climb.
That would be the...Bosun? That feels right...
"Aye."
Calloran didn't fancy himself much of a rigger, and seeing the others quickly best him caused him to make halfhearted follow-on attempts.
-I stirred, woozy, the deck hard beneath my back, and found myself staring at the sky, birds wheeling overhead, the rigging a cobwebbed foreground. "Ouch," I murmured, feeling the lump on the back of my head. "What happened?"
Barnacle and Drahzar are the first to make it up top, followed closely be Kree, Calloran and Torviir by contrast land upon their buttocks. They suffer no real injures ().
Mr. Pluggs looks up at the riggers and points at Drahzar, Congratulations lubber you are now the bloody damn new rigger!
Taking the rest of you in Pluggs barks, Now which of you lot can cook worth a damn?
In Pluggs voice you detect some form of "urgency", especially concerning the word cook...
Cooking? I thought, shaking my head to clear it then wishing I hadn't. Wasn't that what servants were for?
Sense Motive
Still... it might be better than the other options on the table. Or, off the deck, as it were. "I-" I groan, "I can guarantee not to poison anybody by accident," I tell him, staggering upright.
Bluffing that she has some knowledge of cooking
Kree is incensed at missing out on monkeying around topside with a view of the sea and the wind in her hair. Kree can tell Ire is lying, and decides to join the charade.
"Well, the drow are known for their culinary expertise, and as long as the sea provides…"
"Well, I'm not claiming to be a professional," I smile. "If you've some expertise, I'll happily step aside."
The benefits of appeasing my captors being, I judged, outweighed by the benefits of making an ally amongst my fellow captives. Plus... it'd been a long time, since I'd had someone to talk to.
Besides... "I've got to eat the food too," I laughed.
if only I can get my bow back, up in the rigging is the perfect spot to shoot into other ships.
"As you say boss, Drahzar is the name.
sense motive
Looking at Torviir almost with...is it "hope" in his eyes Pluggs bellows in his grown up squeaky voice, go to the galley and whatever ye do don't screw up like fishguts!
As you all hear Pluggs speak you see that several pirates draw the sign of Arawai before them, the look in their eyes indicates that whomever this "fishguts" is he must be a truly terrible individual...
Pluggs turns to the rest of you and pronounces your fate, the rest of you are now swabs get cracking on deck! Pluggs strikes his whip hard on the deck when he speaks the word cracking.
Edit: Drahzar will take 10 on his checks to work in the upper rigging.
Kree snarls in anticipation. Just like shooting womp….catching rats back home!!!!
Yesssss! Lotsa lotsa lotsa juicy ratses!!!!
I am a messenger? decidedly bad use of my skills. These Pirates have no thought to their plans...
Barnacle slumps after running messages all day, feeling a fatigue that he is not used to ....
As you enter the kitchen a wandering goat (with horns and filthy, a buck) tries to headbutt you but you dodge and continue on your way into the "kitchen"...
Surrounding you are a disturbing array of butcher knives, meat cleavers, random animal carcasses etc... As you walk forward you nearly slip in a pile of goat droppings and urine.
In the midst of the filth, depravity and animals run amok is the man that caused Pluggs such great distress... The man turns around from the carcass he is butchering with a chicken on his shoulder, an obscenely comical parody of the pirate you saw in Stormreach with a green parrot on his shoulder...
http://www.deviantart.com/art/Ambrose-Kroop-320266076
The man with his bloodstained apron turns to you then and speaks in a friendly voice, like that old sailor from the movies with a dash of run down eatery cook thrown in...
You my new cook's mate?
"Yes, uh, sir," I reply, trying to hold my breath. Fire, it's foul in here. "What, ah, would you like me to do, Master Kroop?" I asked, hoping, praying, that it'd be elsewhere.
"I can fish," I sighed with relief. I've fished before, but never with nets and never seriously. More to while away the time whilst Kiss did the needful things a sea krait needs to do.
The nets were pretty foul and tangled, but I worked diligently at the task, fearing worse should I fail. I wasn't a noble here...
...but clearly my noble talents, and a little luck, were coming well into play. Fish were bountiful in the nets, fat cod and haddock, salmon and swordfish and slippery eel.
"I've got your fish, Master Kroop," I called, dragging the net behind me as I made my way to the foul kitchen. "Shall I sugar some of them to keep?"
Something I could do elsewhere, preferably...
@Kree, you apparently have some weretiger in you...
@Drahzar I'm ruling that you can't take ten on job checks unless you would auto succeed otherwise on any roll but 1 in which case you may simply "auto succeed".
@Barnacle rushing messages all day is certainly tiring on your wooden frame...
@Torviir Kroop takes you into the middle of the cramped kitchen to begin gutting fish, you then see your poor familiar in one of them... Kiss looks positively terrified and is eying one particularly fearsome looking meatcleaver in abject terror...
Kroop absentmindedly (but amiably) begins talking about the weather, food and so forth...
@Calloran as you perform the back breaking swab work one of your fellow swabs speaks, she is a woman with astounding red hair, fierce eyes, a wild face and a blade on her hip...
Name is Sandara Quinn, I have a few things of yours and your companions from the quartermaster's... After our work is done we need to speak tonight.
Profession (sailor)
"Sounds good, Let me know when and i will seek them out." Calloran whispers.
Sandara smiles at you and then is interrupted by a short but incredibly strong halfling, her voice is like the halfling version of Jack (from ME2) complete with swearing...
!@#$ Quinn you got their gear but not my fiddle!?!
Sitting still after being a runner all day, Barnacle rest near the main mast, running his hands over the wood and gear of the ship.
She was a fine lady once. With a little work she could be again.
"Ahh! Kiss!" I scream, like a little girl, leaping forward in front of Kroop, between my sea-krait familiar and the fat cook. "How could you let yourself get eaten by some dumb fish!" I petted his head, reassuringly, before letting him slither up onto the reassuring warmth of my arm. "Don't you know its dangerous to slither off?" I chided gently.
"Oh!" I said, noticing the distance between Kroop and I had grown large, for such a big man in a small galley. "Don't be afraid. Kiss is a sweetheart," I said, "he'd never bite anyone I didn't want him to. Thank you for rescuing him. And..." I paused, folding my arms behind my back and leaning forward, "for rescuing Kiss you get a kiss," I continued, pecking Kroop on the cheek. He lef a slightly rancid taste, oily and alcohol soaked.
"No! Bad snake!" I protested, as the slimy, fish-gut coated Kiss tried to slither up my arm to his more accustomed place at my neck. "You're filthy," I told him, stepping to the kitchen's water-barrel, scooping a handful, and cleaning Kiss off. The water was none-to-clean either, but better than the alternative, and with a half-sigh I let him slither up my arm to coil comfortably about my neck.
"We'd better throw that fish or leave it for the rats," I told Kroop. "If he's bitten it, there could still be poison in it." I cut a small slice of the - delicious-looking - fish, and offered it to Kiss. "Hair of the dog?"
Kroop looks at you befuddled but does not throw away the fish, as you get to work besides him the hours continue on and on until Kroop speaks.
Best you be going, whispers among the crew that somethings going to happen this here night... Something that's going to excite the Fury and the Mockery...
A shudder runs through Kroop's body as he speaks, something tells you it wasn't the names "Fury" or "Mockery"...
As the suns beats down low you all gather on deck for a brief respite, whispers say the Captain has something special planned...
"Thanks, Kroop," I murmur, feeling rather desperately nervous. The Mockery, particularly, was an aspect of Vulkoor, half-scorpion deity of the wild drow, natural enemies of my civilized people, the Sulatar.
Xen'kar had been a Vulkoor-worshipper, more or less - and it'd been consorting with him that'd seen me betrayed and banished from the Obsidian City.
Painful memories all around, though it was just the brightness of the setting sun over the flat ocean horizon that leaves my eyes welling.
Wrapped around my neck, the slight bulge of a piece of fish in his gullet pressing against my windpipe, Kiss stretches his head, forked tongue flickering out to lick away the salty tears.
Calloran looks about for the woman from earlier, with mention of their equipment.
As you all watch you hear murmurings of a "bloody hour" and then two pirates from the same lot that that you met in the hold come out. They are dragging a human, brelish by the look of him up to Scourge and Pluggs.
With obvious relish Scourge pronounces the sentence...
Jakes Magpie, right ol name for a thief I would say! Do you know Magpie what we do to thieves aboard the Wormwood?
Jakes Magpie's voice is pitiful, pleading.
Plea-se don't kil-l me, I won't stea-l from the rum st-ores again I prom-ises...
Pluggs then joins in with obvious relish.
Thats right you won't, drag him under time for a Keelhauling!
With that Magpie is thrown overboard as his rope is tied to the rails, a minute later the pirates pull up Jakes... He is now nothing more then a piece of split meat, he has truly been "keelhauled"...
The pirates up in the rigging and on the deck jeered as Magpie was lowered into the water and laugh as they see his split corpse...
With the "bloody hour" over rest begins and you see Quinn motioning for you from the shadows...
Drahzar sees Quinn, nods to him and makes his way over.