Grok inspects Treggor's mace for balance and quality. After a moment she nods, seeming satisfied.
"You'll notice I haven't asked ya where ya got these," Grok said with a teasing smile.
She got serious again and said, "Straight up trade the mace will be worth a dagger and 10 throwing stars. But ya got some stones on ya Treggor so I'll make it a dozen stars. Just mind where you throw 'em. I'm too pretty to die. Deal?"
"Ooh, good idea! In that case give me one throwing star, one sling, and 20 of those bullets, and keep the change for the good tip."
"I assure ye, they'll be used with discretion." Treggor nods and secrets away his new acquisitions.
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Grok hands over the stars and a dagger to Treggor. The dagger has a skull on the pommel.
"That one's got a bit of sentimental value to it. A dwarf nearly took my eye with it before I smashed his head in with a hammer."
She turns to Alfonso, takes his two silvers and hands him back a copper piece.
"Appreciate the thought, boyo. But I never feels right owing someone. 'Sides, Cap'n catches me skimmin' and that'll be me hide."
She then hands the star and sling along with all the bullets.
"You'll need somethin' to carry that, or they'll fall right out your pockets. I can sell you this ratty old pouch for 2 silvers."
During this exchange, Alfonso notices a fiddle sitting on a table and is reminded that Rosie Cusswell is trying to get her fiddle back.
"Hmm. I'd forgotten my pockets are full of holes now, what with nothing to put in them until now. Say, how much for that fiddle? And the bow, of course. And rosin!"
Shikyo will exchange the Gold Ring (worth 20GP) for however many throwing stars he can get. He will then spend some time secreting the throwing stars in various bits of clothing.
"Well the bow and fiddle are a matched set. Even has a vial of rosin in the case. Don't think you can afford it though. She's worth 30 gold measures. Maybe when ya get yer share of yer first plunder, ya can come back then."
Shikyo will exchange the Gold Ring (worth 20GP) for however many throwing stars he can get. He will then spend some time secreting the throwing stars in various bits of clothing.
"Hmph. I guess I'll just get that pouch then. But 2 silver pieces, really? For that ratty old thing? I'll give you 1 for it, same as the sling. I'll even throw back in that odd copper."
"Ah, well, I suppose you're right about the pouch. It is a bit grim. 1 silver and 1 copper then," Grok says with a sigh.
Grok nearly chokes when she sees Shikyomaru hand him the gold ring.
"Been busy, I see."
She bites the ring and inspects the jewel with a magnifying glass.
"She's a beauty. Fetch a fine price in port. I'll give you 20 gold measures for her."
When Shikyo indicates he wants some stars, she nods. "20 stars will run ya for a single gold. That's 19 left. You might not want to have that much coin on ya. Could make you a target. Look, how about this..."
Grok digs around for a bit and finds a gorgeously crafted Tien shortsword that Shikyo knows is called a wakizashi. The blade is pristine, and the handle is wrapped perfectly.
"Got this from the same feller as the throwing stars. It's worth 10 gold measures. What do you say?"
How about a dagger and 5 silvers for the mace instead of the light hammer? Do you have one?
Shikyo grimaces gives the man a curt nod.
Done.
Grok hands the sword, 20 stars and 9 gold measures to Shikyomaru.
"Be careful who you let see you with that gold," she tells him sagely.
Grok then turns to Dieredon and says, "Deal."
She hands the elf 5 silvers and a dagger with a carved ivory handle in the shape of a dire wolf. The weapon is perfectly balanced for throwing as well as fighting.
Jack watched the commerce with an approving eye. He didn't have anything specific to trade today, Calistria be praised the whip had served him well. Still a good rapier would be worth having but that wasn't something he could ware openly. Some light armor would be worth having too, but he'd found a shield - that would help. It could do with a spot of paint mind, Calistria's sigil would look grand on it!
He asks Grok, "D'ye have any paint fer trade? I nae need much..."
"Could ah get a cople o axes fer these?" Grizzle says, showing his vials of holy water. "Ah wan tha feel a nice axe in me hand again! Swords are too mooch ta ask. Da ye think ah wood be able ta hide a shield?"
Grok thinks for a moment about Mad Jack's request. "No, I'm afraid not. I suppose if you had an alchemist, ya could whip up some pigment. And I do have some alchemist's supplies here. But that'll run ya 50 gold measures. I'm bettin' ya ain't got that. Now a proper painting kit wouldn't cost ya much, mind, but it ain't something we'd have on the ship. Generally, when we need some paintin' done we take care of that in port. Of course, we might get lucky on our next raid. I'll keep an eye out for ya."
She then turns to Grizzle.
"Holy water, eh? Just a moment."
Grok examines the label with her magnifying glass.
"Hmm. Church of Abadar certified 4710. The seal looks right. Very likely the legit stuff. I'll takes ya at yer word. Mind, I'll thump yer skull against the hull if ya tries to cheat me. But anyways, this flask is worth 12 gold measure and 5 silvers. I could get you a pair of handaxes for that no problem, with a couple measures to spare. Hells, could even get you a battle axe, if ye're feelin' frisky. But ya seem to value discretion for the moment. I could also trade ya a shield. But that alone is worth 10 gold measures. I couldn't rightfully throw in a handaxe as well. So what's yer pleasure?"
"And, no, the shields I got are pretty obvious. Wouldn't be something ya could just stuff down yer trousers. Suppose ya could keep it in a locker though."
"Ah'll take a couple o handaxes then. Thans fer yer offer." Grizzle hands over the vial, and takes the axes.
Slightly disappointed but accepting of the situation, Jack replies "Aye, well tha Savored sting be praised if such booty comes our way." Grok has a point though. As sure as the tides and the seasons there's be a raid. That would be their chance for revenge. Scourge wouldn't live to regret his actions.
After seeing Grok, the Press-ganged return to their ship duties. They work hard for the rest of the day, but the interruption served to invigorate them.
Finally the sun begins to set and the Bloody Hour arrives. Once again, the First Mate, Mr. Plugg, and Master Scourge take center stage.
"We have a way of doing things here, gentleman," said Mister Plugg.
"And not following our traditions is bad luck. And the sea is too cruel a mistress to leave anything to chance. Certain individuals have been warned, and yet refused to heed. Mister Shikyomaru, for failure to consume the rum ration under orders you will receive a single lashing. And Mister Mynth, you were charged to assure that your fellow crewmembers complied. And in this you have failed. You will also receive a single lashing. Step up, if you be men of honor, and accept your fair and just punishment."
The bloody hour passes with no one being called out for punishment. It's a bit of a reprieve for the crew. And amusingly a disappointment for Master Scourge.
Dieredon and Fishguts serve the evening meal of fish stew and biscuits along with the rum ration.
During the meal, Shikyomaru notices the parrot from last night has landed close to him. It looks starving and miserable. It's plummage all in disarray and falling out in clumps.
The others are approached by Jack Scrimshaw.
"Wanted to thank you boys for taking down them rats. I'd a been torn to shreds had I not made it out of there. Anyways, one of you boys ever need a favor, I owes you one."
"T'were me pleasure, Mister Scrimshaw. Ne'er have I seen bilge rats with bigger teeth an those that bit ye. Smart man, he that runs from a fight he's no hope ah winnin'."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Scrimshaw gives Treggor a wink and a small bow. "That's certainly how I sees it. Pleasant evening to you gents."
And Jack walks off to finish his meal.
Shikyo gives a bit of hardtack to the bird. He attempts to befriend the animal
Shikyo drinks his rum, and coughs.
Night time actions
Shikyo rests, sleeping off the rum.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The parrot is tentative at first, but then begins to peck away at the cracker with gusto.
"Shiver me timbers! Shiver me timbers," it squacks happily. It hops onto Shikyo's shoulders and nuzzles the man's ear playfully.
"Ye soim ta have gooten yerself a talkin chicken, Shiyokowatsit."
"Yer welcoome Scrimshaw. Hoo ya bin doin n tha last li'l whoile?"
Grizzle spends a little while chatting it up with the man as he guzzles down his rum.
"Well, the rats were a refreshing change of scenery from looking at Scourge all day, that's to be certain..."
He coughs and sputters at the rum. "Is it stronger today, or did somebody piss in it?"
Jack tells Scrimshaw, "Nae problem, friend. Gotta look out fer one another eh?"
A little later as they're queuing up for yet more of the gods awful rum, Jack is tempted to palm some to Grizzle who seemed to genuinely like it. Apparently he had a lead lined stomach, because the stuff always burnt Jack something rotten as it went down. Jack resented being forced to take the ration, resented it powerfully. Almost enough to spit it back in their faces, but not today. They needed to be sure where the cards lay, although it seemed some would fall their way.
With ill temper Jack took his ration, drunk it in one and stomped off.
Later when he'd had a chance to cool down, Jack decided to see if he could still sing after the damage had been done to his throat. Finding a group of the sailors he started to sing:
Fifteen men on tha dead man's chest--
...Yo-ho-ho, an' a bottle o rum!
Drink and the devil had done fer the rest--
...Yo-ho-ho, an' a bottle o rum! ...
Treggor notices a halfling that looks just shifty enough that they might get along. He approaches the rigger and starts a conversation.
"Say, I hear they call ye 'Ratline'. Why, I just had me own encounter with some rats this mornin'. I wonder, how did ye earn a title such as that?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
Shikyomaru heads to sleep after a few friendly scritches from his feathered friend.
***
Grizzle talks to the young Jack Scrimshaw.
<--
And it goes remarkably well. Grizzle impresses the young man with some of his wilder tavern stories, and Jack tells a few of his own. The two sailors bond. Throughout the whole night "Scrimshaw" is whittling a piece of wood, and by the end he hands the piece to Grizzle.
"I want you to have this."
It's a beautifully detailed stamping, rampaging bull.
***
Alfonso has a bit of a rough start to his night as he drinks a bit of grog that wasn't quite watered down well enough.
***
***
The rat-faced "Ratline" remains mostly indifferent to Treggor's prodding. "Well, my name's Ratzburger. I guess it's from that." The halfling nibbles on a small piece of biscuit.
***
Mad Jack breaks out into song, and wouldn't you know it a few of the crew join in.
The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike
the bosun brained with a marlinspike
and cookey's throat was marked belike
It had been gripped by fingers ten;
And there they lay, all good dead men
Like break o'day in a boozing ken.
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
"Thank ye lad, ah am honored." Grizzle says humbly. "Eff thars anythin ye need, don be afrad te ask." Once he is done talking, he claps the young man on the back, and heads to bed.
"Blech. I need to sleep off this rum, if I'm to have any chance of avoiding the lash tomorrow."
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After helping to serve the others, Dieredon takes his portion of rum, like a fine pirate.
I am getting a bit used to this Pirate stuff...I hope not too used to it...
Afterwards, he looks for a game of dice that he can join. Having acquired a little silver, he seeks to fatten his purse on the inexperience of others. He rolls his dice casually in his hand as he searches the deck and below for some dicing companions. If he cannot find any, he will begin throwing the familiar bones by himself until others join him.
***
Dieredon manages a hot streak that night and ends up winning 9 silvers and a dagger. He grins at the other players as he leaves to get some shut-eye.
The next morning, Master Scourge seems to be in a particularly smug mood as he assigns the work details.
"Oy, Grizzle, you're doing rope work, again."
"You swabbies are haulin' more rope. Because you lazy bums didn't do it yesterday."
"And, you, report to Fishguts, cooky." he says to Dieredon.
Dieredon discovers that Ambrose is in a drunken stupor when he heads to the kitchen. This was not good.
"AYE SCOURGE! THA AH WELL DOO!!" Grizzle roars, setting to work.
Dieredon sets to work frantically preparing the meals for the officers and crew in light of Fishgut's drunken stupor.
Jack applied himself to shifting and coiling rope. Truth be told he preferred it to scrubbing the deck with those hateful stones. While his body worked, his mind was far away dreaming of Scourge's painful demise and how he might ingratiate himself with the crew. It was vital he knew who would be with them when the time came...
Treggor works proficiently and accomplishes his task with relative ease. Years earning the position of first mate had prepared him for all manner of ship's labor, and his experience did not let him down.
Waiting for the right moment, he makes for the middle hold. However, he barely begins to wander off before hearing Scourge giving someone else loud and threatening encouragement. He returns to his work, unable to find another opportunity.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Shikyo is exhausted from the hard work, but he begins to enjoy the parrot's company. He gives it a bit more biscuit from his morning meal.
"Guys, I just walked by the galley, and I think I smelled something burning."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Dieredon prepares the meal in a panic, and unfortunately doesn't notice as a vial of spices accidentally spills into the fish stew. It's going to be a very hot meal.
Shikyomaru and Alfonso are exhausted by the day's labors. It was an extremely hot, sweltering day. And it was just a little too much.
***
That night at the Bloody Hour no one is punished. But then the meal is served. And Besmara's sweet, bountiful chest it's hotter than the pits of hell...to some's pleasure perhaps. But not the Captain's. The Captain makes a point of giving Fishguts and Dieredon the stink-eye. And the rest of the crew aren't far behind either.
After the debacle of dinner, Mister Plugg approaches the Press-ganged along with a few of the same folks who attacked you on your second day at sea.
"Well, that was an interesting repast. Perhaps we could spice things up a little further with a bit of sport. I dare one of you to fight the Owlbear."
"Bare-knuckle fists or wrestling only, no magic tricks, and the last one conscious wins. To make it interesting, I'll put in 100 gold measures of my own money into a pot."
He drops a large pouch of gold that lands on the ground with the unmistakable, tinkling sound of coin.
"Winner takes all. You all can pay me when we make our first catch. So what do you say?"
You've heard that the Owlbear is a monster of a man. And is sort of the personal bodyguard to Mister Plugg. He was actually tarred and feathered a couple days before the Press-ganged were "invited" on ship.