Treggor reclines for the majority of the day, his hat over his eyes and his ears open. He knows that if someone wanted to cause him grief, now would be an opportune time. So he relaxes, hums a few old tunes, and waits to see if anything eventful unfolds.
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The morning after the light before, Jack has the inclination to rest on his laurels. Besides he was tired, not as tired as some of the others mind and by the afternoon he had quite recovered. He wondered if Badger wanted to talk but decided, perhaps wisely she'd find him not the other way around.
The crew take a well-deserved rest. And then show up for dinner. The meal is fish stew again, but Fishguts is still showing his renewed enthusiasm for his culinary skills, so it goes down well; especially in light of a day of hard biscuits, water and grog.
During the meal, Badger sits next to the Press-ganged, and whispers, "Whatever you need, I'm in."
She then gives a playful wink to Mad Jack and pretends she hadn't spoken at all.
***
Later that night, Badger takes Jack aside for another session of dutiful worship -- assuming he's game.
And the next morning it's back to work. Amazingy, Scourge seems in an even fouler mood than before.
"Oy, Grizzle. Get those stubby dwarf legs up that mast on the double! You're in the crow's nest. You spot trouble you'd better shout it out, or your hide belongs to me, got it?!"
"The rest of you swabs are on repair duty. That little gust did a number on the ship. Report to the Stitchman. He'll have jobs for each of you. Now move!"
***
And of course Dieredon reports to Fishguts, who hands him a net.
"I need you to catch some fish, laddie. And when you're done, come back here so I can teach you more cooking."
The swabs report to Habbly Quarne, one of the Wormwood's Officers. He serves as both carpenter and surgeon. And it does not escape anyone's notice that he uses the same set of tools for both. Of course, the crew know him simply as the "Patchman" and refer to him as such.
The Patchman is a dry, humorless sort, with the bedside manner of a still life painting. But he knows his stuff, and within minutes he has the press-ganged working on many different repairs to the ship and its supplies.
"Roit misser whopfoice!" Grizzle roars, charging up the ropes, and proceeds to fall asleep at the top. Luckily, he wakes up after a minute or two, and does a superb job!
"Roit misser whopfoice!" Grizzle roars, charging up the ropes, and proceeds to fall asleep at the top.
Treggor decides to spend the day working hard to bring the ship back to good order. After all, a ship was an honest man's home and living, and a pirate's just the same. Besides that, he'd be needing this ship later, once he'd deposed the captain and his toadies.
-Posted with Wayfinder
As Alfonso works, he tries to chat up Patchman, and get a sense of where his allegiance lies.
Dieredon gathers the nets and heads to the edge of the deck. He diligently casts and recasts the nets to catch as many fish as he can before returning to the kitchen with his haul later in the day.
Dieredon's diligence pays off. Upon his return to Fishguts, he shows him the haul.
Ok, Fishguts, show me how best to prepare this bounty!
As Alfonso works, he tries to chat up Patchman, and get a sense of where his allegiance lies.
"Say, Mr. Patchman, I'm sure you've seen a lot of injured come through here, so you might say you have a front-row seat to the aftermath of all the... jobs the crew undertakes. Is it worth it? Does our current leadership take good care of the crew and the ship?"
Ecumenical matters well in hand, Jack applies himself to the serious job of repairing the storm damage. It wasn't the most exciting job, but it was ultimately a matter of survival. If the ship wasn't properly maintained, something would fail potentially with fatal consequences.
Hearing what seems like dangerous talk in front of an officer, Jack claps Alfonso on the back and putts his arm round him with a slight dig to the ribs and adds quickly, "Eh? He dinnae mean nae disrespect ta tha Mate or tha Capn'. Alfonso here's jus' keen ta git some booty. Chasin' a fat mark, be how a Captain takes care o' his crew eh? I'm tha Capn' has a plan fer tha right?"
Shikyo does his best to repair the ship
He displays an uncanny ability to fix things, it must be the Rum.
The Patchman stares at Alfonso suspiciously, but ultimately is calmed by Mad Jack's words.
"My time with the Cap'n has been very rewarding, I assure you. Ain't none better than him at keeping a crew rich. And ain't none better at keeping his crew - period. Best remember that."
"That's a great catch, laddie. We'll have a happy crew tonight. Here let me show you how to work that butcher knife"
Ol' Fishguts plys his trade with aplomb, and it occurs to Dieredon that the man wields a knife in a sure and practiced way, and with the reverence of a true artisan. He may not be a warrior, but he is dedicated to his craft.
Dieredon settles in for his lesson.
***
The day's repairs go smoothly - almost shockingly so. And in the end the Press-ganged finishes the day's labors with a feeling of satisfaction.
The skies clear, and the Bloody Hour passes by with no one getting lashed or swatted.
And dinner is a fabulous affair of grilled fish. Dieredon has brought in a haul big enough for the entire crew. It's a filling and delicious meal. And the crew is in good spirits.
Grizzle attempts to open a locker, to see what more treasures he can find.
Grizzle opens up one of the unclaimed lockers. At first he thinks it empty, but just as he is about to close it, he notices a glint. In the corner, forgotten and unclaimed there was a silver ring engraved with dwarven script that invokes the Dwarven god Kols, the Oath-keeper.
That night at dinner, Treggor mingles with some unfamiliar faces: a few small folk and a half-elf woman he's worked with before. But first, he slugs the shoulder of the dainty little performer among them. "Time ta win some hearts, eh pointy-ears?"
He starts up a simple conversation, to see who might care to talk.
"Fine work ye been doing, the lot of ya. They call me Treggor Mynth, as ya may remember from the howling of our much beloved bosun."
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Dieredon joins Grizzle in an attempt to open a locker.
Hmmm...what have we here?
"Fine work ye been doing, the lot of ya. They call me Treggor Mynth, as ya may remember from the howling of our much beloved bosun."
Treggor is greeted by a few hearty guffaws. It's warm enough until Flipps Chumlett shows up to silently let his displeasure be known. Treggor remembers that Chumlett was one of the group who assaulted the Press-ganged on their second day.
Soon Treggor is abandoned by all save one -- Jack Scrimshaw, the lad who had been attacked by the rats down in the bilges.
He passes Treggor a scrimshaw statuette of an orca whale.
"Thanks for saving Badger. She looks after me. A friend of hers is a friend of mine."
That must have been some sort of power play. Perhaps Scourge is solidifying his own allies against you.
Dieredon finds a tiny alcove that was cunningly hid. Inside is a small bag with a small gold bar inside with the royal seal of Cheliax.
Alfonso seeks out Aretta Bansion, one of the people who attacked the group several days ago, to try to sway some of the rowdier elements to the cause.
"Ms. Bansion, I just wanted to say that there's no hard feeling over the little scuffle we had. You were spoiling for a fight, and that's good. There'll be fights up ahead, and we need tough gals like you. I just need to know that we can count on you to fight for the good of the ship, you understand?"
Treggor claps the man on the back. "Ye have me thanks, Mister Scrimshaw. There be honor among sailors. Least, among some of us." Treggor gives Jack a warm smile as they part ways. Afterward, however, he frowns bitterly and makes for his bed for a little rest and counter-plotting.
-Posted with Wayfinder
By now Alfonso and Jack have spoken to most of the crew, but there was one or two left. After a while he finds Tilly Bracket doing some chores and he casually leans against a bulkhead as he says, "Fair eve Ma'am, and a calmer one t'night eh? Truth be told I'm glad tha excitement be over. Though it kinda has a ways of sneakin' up on yer, when ye least expect it..." He was thinking back to a certain evening in the inn that shall live forever in infamy.
Shrugging slightly Jack adds, "Or mebbe that's jus me? Anywhoo if ye ever have any little problems mebbe we could help? All ye 'ave ta do is ask, know what I'm saying?"
"Maybe," she draws out, a doubtful note in her tone as she swigs a spot of rum from a bottle. But the bottle is empty. "Rum's gone. Now ain't that a tragedy."
Tilly seems evasive, when normally she's loud and quick to joke. Something feels off. Perhaps a little rum might get her to open up a little.
Shikyo is going to sleep off his last level of exhaustion.
"Ms. Bansion, I just wanted to say that there's no hard feeling over the little scuffle we had. You were spoiling for a fight, and that's good. There'll be fights up ahead, and we need tough gals like you. I just need to know that we can count on you to fight for the good of the ship, you understand?"
"You trying to imply something there, knife ears? That sounds like mutiny to me. Mayhap you'd best watch yourself from now on. You and your little cabal are about to get a mite unpopular."
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Jack sniffs, "Aye that it be, lass." Suddenly a thought occurred , she wasn't being sarky, she actually liked the horrible stuff. He rummaged through his pockets for a moment before pulling out a battered hip flask. "Was gonna give ole Grizzle a snifter. Seems ye 'ave a greater need." He gently throws it to her and departs, saying "Friends should be carin' an' sharin'. Fair eve' ta ya ma'am." He dips his, non-existent tricorn hat and walks off thinking not for the first time, 'I needs me a new hat...'
Once back with the others, Treggor spreads the word of events from the evening. "Seems we've made a few friends on this vessel, but squarely as many enemies too. I've a feelin there'll be blood soon, an' I twould rather it be they than us. By now we all know the inevitable end o' these events, so I think we best be prepared. Let's see ta Cusswell's strings in the mornin'. Then I think we'd be wise ta plot our move, so they's that would be rid of us be deprived a theirs."
-Posted with Wayfinder
A watch may be a good idea.
Animated as if energised by the coming storm, Jack replies, "Aye the buzzards be a circlin', a fight is brewin'. Still I misslike dem choosin tha where an tha when. Mebbe we can arrange fer an accident ta put em on tha back foot?"
"Aha! Good thinking Jack! Subterfuge! Strategy! I can offer my assistance, as I've read many books on the subject."
Jack turns to Alfonso and replies, "Oh aye, an what do yer books 'ave ta say?" With an appraising eye, Jack considers their half elven bard, 'Mebbe Alfonso could goad 'em into startin' a riot...'
"You're a true gent, Jacky Boy. A god among men," Tilly says to Mad Jack.
She takes a swig from the flask, and smiles.
"Guessin' if you need to be choosin' a side, can't go wrong with the one that's got the kitchen -- and the rum. To yer 'ealth!"
-Posted with Wayfinder
The Press-ganged go to bed feeling nervous and uneasy. They make a point to stick together and keep a watch. The night goes by, and nothing untoward happens.
Yet.
The next morning, the Press-ganged go about their duties. The waters have become shallow, making navigation tricky and slow. As the afternoon wears on, the First Mate, Mister Plugg calls the Press-ganged together on the main deck. Even Dieredon is forced to attend.
At Mister Plugg's feet lie four crab pots. He points to a reef lying some 200 feet north of the ship, and says, "The good Captain Harrigan, is in the mood for crab. And you lucky few have the privilege of retrieving it. Swim to the reef, fill up these pots and swim back. Simplicity itself."
"For those of you who, somehow, managed to earn a weapon, you may arm yourselves. If not, you can requisition a temporary dagger from Grok. Good luck. And do not fail the good Captain."
And with little ceremony, Mister Plugg walks off to another place on the ship.
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Grizzle shivers. "Er, Mis'er Plugg, do ah relly av ta go en tha wat'er? Ah got a bit o a fear af it meself."
"Hey Grizzle, I know it be scary, but I'll be there fer ya." said Jack with the certainty of a man who jumped into a mountainous sea to save Badger.
He unceremoniously jumps into the water and starts swimming in lazy circles, waiting for Grizzle to join him.
"Yes, I'm with Grizzle. I've never been a strong swimmer. Do you have any kind of flotation devices on hand?"
Alfonso will borrow a dagger on the way out.
Alfonso finally manages to drag himself onto a rock, wheezing and coughing up some of the sea water he swallowed.
Come now, mates. We are pirates, eh? Let's be about it and aid will be provided where necessary. I may even need it myself.
Shikyo dives into the water but struggles as a swimmer. However, he manages to make it to the reef.
Kore wa uragiri no nioi. Dowāfu no yō ni kusaidesu. Shikyo mutters, looking at Grizzle and smiling.
This smells treacherous. he says in halting common.