Sandara shakes MacLaren's hand with a smile, "Good to other clergy around, especially friendly ones."
Rosie does not offer her hand, as hers are full with her meal and cup. She also doesn't look to be in much of a mood to talk. She does return Melli's looks of sizing up, and returns a challenging eyebrow. She seems disappointed when Melli says they aren't fighting, "F***ing Port Peril, same as you. You bastards got the royal treatment, getting your a**es woken up while we were already at sea. It's a fun f***ing time, being anchored offshore, were you can see the bloody city, but it's too far to swim back..."
Brother MacLaren pulls out his brass tankard, keeping it wrapped in rags.
He mutters a prayer and waves his hand, and the tankard fills with ale.
"Now this - this you can drink. Anyone else? Or wine, if you prefer."
He keeps his voice low so as to not make big show of his casting, but he's also not tremendously secretive about it. Think of it as more modesty than secrecy.
"I don't deny that we are in Besmara's realm now, but I hope the blessings of the Lucky Drunk are welcome."
No luck. He can't get a read on the halfling.
Sandara smiles, "Of course. Relations between the gods can be tricky, but that doesn't have to mean relations between mortals have to follow suit. And besides, our doctrines aren't too far removed so as to compete."
Rosie scoffs at the offer to change her drink, and swigs down the rum even faster than Melli did. "But if you can make more, I won't refuse you." She mentions with a wink.
Tempest makes small talk with Sandara and Rosie as best she can, but once she's finished with her meal, she stands and taps Beryl on the shoulder, "You wanted a story, right?"
She makes her way to where the entertainments are occurring and waits for an opening in any performance to step up, announcing herself with a clap of thunder to set the mood.
"I've been led to believe that you fine folks enjoy storytelling. Well, I just so happened to grow up amongst the faithful of Gozreh, and I'm sure I have a tale or two for you..."
She proceeds to weave a tale drawn from Gozren dogma, but embellished a bit to make it more palatable to sailors who may fear the Sky Father.
Tempest's thunderclap seems to startle more than a few people, and even gets some looks from the officers on the poop deck. Even still, it proves effective in grabbing their attention in preparation for her story, which does seem to entertain them enough to elicit applause at the end.
Beryl saves the book, wondering how something so valuable was lost in this mess of a kitchen.
Beryl searches a bit more around the galleys, not having anything better to do at this point.
Melli's not stupid - with an attitude like that, Rosie's just asking for a fight. She cracks her knuckles and sets aside her grog cup, then stands up - a bit wobbly. "And it was a such a picnic for us too to be woken up the way we was...were."
"...Hells, what's in this grog?" She glances at her cup. "We'll have to settle who had it worse later on - I'm in no shape for a good fight yet. I'd also say yes to more to drink, if it avoids this awful aftertaste!"
He will of course refill her mug with ale or wine as she wishes, and just engage her in small talk about her past adventures.
"I can't say I've seen much of the world yet. This, for better or worse, is going to be an eye-opening experience for me. But tell me about where you've been."
Hopefully it is not bad enough to worsen her attitude, and it might even be a success if giving her ale grants a circumstance bonus.
Rosie laughs a bit at Melli's wobble, "What's wrong, landlubber? Can't hold your rum?"
Rosie turns out to be a decent conversationalist, if you can get past the fact that her mouth is filthier than an otyugh. She also seems to be a fan of alcohol, which gives Brother MacLaren an advantage in getting on her good side. By the end of the night, she even ends up being a little flirty with the good brother, though she makes no overt advances.
Veronica shivers as the man's sentence is announced. Terrible way to kill a man. As it begins, she turns her head and looks out to the horizon, missing most of it.
She joins the others at dinner, and starts off by checking up on the half-elf girl: "How are you feeling?"
She's pleasantly surprised to see another crew member approach at pretty much the same time asking her the same question.
"Nice to meet you both. It's nice to be met with a friendly smile after all that's happened today." She returns the cleric's smile with one of her own.
She gives a nod at Brother MacLaren's offer.
"I'll go ahead and take you up on that offer - I'd really like to avoid drinking this stuff if I can help it."
Best if I can keep my mind and body sound for now.
Veronica will join in on the conversation with Rosie - making friends the rest of the crew still seems like the best idea for now.
From the conversation with Rosie, Veronica is able to notice a few things about her personality.
"How dare you insult Meliandri Chastain Lillifeet's drinking ability! Besides, this hardly counts as alcohol. Wouldn't surprise me if it stripped the paint off the ship's hull, too." Melli scowls at Rosie, but her stomach is definitely turning. "I'll tell you what? We find something clean to drink, and you'll be the first under the table!"
Rosie shakes her head and laughs, "Yeah. Good f***ing luck finding any o' that on this bucket. But whatever you wanna tell yourself."
Ellie watches the "bloody hour" with disgust. Thieves must be punished, of course, but a keelhauling for a first offense seems... excessive. Do these pirates enjoy bloodlust? She suspects she already knows the answer to that.
She takes her rum ration gladly. At least there's one good thing about this ship. She tosses it down without tasting it-- whatever bottom-barrel slop they managed to steal surely isn't worth her taste buds.
She coughs and gasps for air. What in nine hells?! Are they trying to poison us?! The ship sways before her despite her well-practiced liver. "That's the last time I drink this stuff," she tells Sandara as the woman finds her again. "I'd say I'm better now, but well, that isn't really true anymore. Gods, even the rum is trying to kill you on this ship." She chokes down her evening meal in an attempt to counteract some of the liquor. "Thanks for your magic, earlier. I needed it."
She turns to the others. I don't know if I can trust any of these people, but they're the closest thing I have to friends here. "Okay, I think we need to stick together. Us conscripts, we're all we have on this ship right now. So we need to find out more about the ship, and we need to ingratiate ourselves with the crew. The more see us as worth knowing, the more likely we are to stay alive." She looks at the spot where Jakes Magpie last stood. Cayden help us all.
Perhaps it's the rum clouding her mind, or the events of the day, or just having to follow Tempest's story, but Ellie's tale falls noticeably flat on the assembled pirates. Thankfully, no one throws a bottle at her or boos, but none of them seem particularly impressed with her attempt at storytelling.
Veronica nods at Ellie's suggestion.
"I completely agree with you. None of us is here by choice, and I'm sure that's the case with most of the crew, unless they're as bloodthirsty as the captain and his mates. But we're all stuck here and there's nothing we can do to change that for now. Best we can do to just help each other and watch each other's backs. Try to see if we can all get by with as little pain as possible."
Veronica's gaze lingers a bit on Jack's remains and her expression hardens for a moment, addressing the group in a low voice to avoid being overheard outside the group.
"I do hope he was right you know, and that these bloodthirsty bastards get what they deserve."
She then turns back towards the group and looks at each other in turn.
"I'm Veronica by the way. I don't think I've got your names yet though, with the exception of brother MacLaren's and Meliandri's. Don't hesitate to ask me if there's anything I can do to help."
Brother MacLaren sees the shape Melli and Ellie are in after drinking the stuff. Basic treatment for alcohol poisoning is as foundational to Cayden's faith as balancing a ledger is to Abadar's.
"Have some more of the stew. That will clear the taste of the so-called 'rum'. In fact, have a lot more. And clean water. I've got you there.
And if you feel you're going to lose your dinner? Keep eating until you do. Get as much of that poison out of your system as you can. Then get lots of rest and keep drinking water."
To Veronica he replies, "Pleased to meet you, Veronica. Aye, my given name is Jasper, but nobody ever uses that. Brother MacLaren, or just MacLaren, or Mac. Priest of Cayden Cailean, from Andoran. I had been looking to hit the seas and see the world... this was not the way I planned to do it, but here I am."
"Heh, I was also looking to join a crew, actually. Kind of a family thing, you might say. But I definitely didn't expect things to turn out the way they did."
"I'd say we got pretty lucky to have you along though, if they're gonna keep forcing us to drink this stuff everyday. I do have some minor magic abilities that can help as well, if needed - an ancestor of mine was blessed by some ocean spirits or some such, if you'd believe some of the tales - but I'd much rather defer to cleric of Cayden Cailean for all things involving drinks!" She replies back with a hearty laugh.
Sandara brightens up as Veronica mentions her magical prowess, "Oh, you're the mage? I had managed to 'rescue' a spellbook from Grok after you lot were brought aboard. I wasn't sure who it belonged to, though. I had assumed it was you..." She nods to Tempest, "...but I didn't want to give it to the wrong person. I have it in my bunk, when he head to bed you can grab it."
”I’m Ellie Dewblossom, daughter of Captain Alter Dewblossom. I sailed on his ship the Tempest since before I can remember.” A distinct note of pride can be heard in her voice when she mentions the captain and ship, and a heavy dose of grief as well. ”I had a perfectly fine ship, and crew, and had no desire for another. I doubt these pirates will simply let us off at the next port, but if we stick together I bet we can make our way back. Eventually.”
”Meantime… I gotta admit, I’ve always wanted to learn magic. Would someone be able to teach me?”
Tempest smiles when Ellie introduces herself, "Tempest, you say? That just so happens to be what I'm called."
Her face darkens a bit, though, as the conversation moves to survival, "Agreed. Strength in numbers, that's how we survive. And how we get our vengeance. Would that I could do it myself, but I don't have that kind of power. Not anymore. Not yet, again."
When Sandara states her assumption about Tempest being a mage, she scoffs a bit, "Oh, I wield magic, that's for sure. But not from some book. Mine is a a part of my soul." As if to demonstrate, she holds out her hand, small arcs of electricity forming between her fingers. She closes her fist after a second, so as not to draw attention to herself.
As the night wears on, the crew start to retreat to their bunks to sleep off the day's labor and the night's drinking. Sandara returns Veronica's spellbook to her before climbing into her own bunk to rest. The newcomers are left to their own devices to locate an empty hammock for themselves. There are also footlockers lining the walls, which are free to be claimed, if empty.
For those who have worked on a ship before, the night is as uneventful as anyone could hope. The ship sways and creaks with the rolling tides. FOr those unaccustomed to the sensation, it may well make for a troubled night's sleep, though restful enough to prepare them for the next day.
In the morning, the crew begins to awaken and make their daily preparations. Those few religious souls can be seen doing their prayers while others elect for simple stretching or even just relaxing before the morning bell.
When the dawn bell rings, the majority of the sailors move to the stairs to head up on deck. The first of the newcomers to for the stairs is Brother MacLaren, but he is blocked by Fipps Chumlett, along with five others. "In a hurry?" Fipps says, laughing. He shoves the good brother back by the chest.
The pirates seem prepared to block the group's path to the deck to start the work day. As the group has learned, and as would have been confirmed by Sandara, or one of the other friendly crewmates, being late for the work day is an offense punishable by three lashes.
Seeing the pirates shove MacLaren, Tempest rolls her eyes. never one to mince words, she marches straight for the ringleader, drawing on her magic as she does. Chanting a spell in Auran, she unleashes a blast of chaotic, swirling colors over the group.
Brother MacLaren is not Nauseated (seasickness?).
He wakes up a bit before dawn to say his prayers, then starts heading up on deck.
"You're in the way, you spineless son of a goblin turd."
He attempts an Overrun combat maneuver to push past the man blocking his way. This will provoke an AOO if Fipps is armed, but MacLaren isn't looking to deal any damage right now - just looking to get by. And so Overrun seems like the safe bet.
Edit: see Tempest's post here as I was writing. MacLaren will make a point of Overrunning anyone who makes the save.
It is over in an instant. Every single one of the pirates attempting to block the path upstairs is overcome by the affect of the spell and fall to the floor, unconscious.
Up on deck, Scourge seems slightly confused to see the group, but recovers quickly. He does glance at the stairs a few times, though, before Fipps and the others make their way on deck, just seconds before the ship's bell rings again to mark the start of the day. Scourge seems to glare at Chumlett for longer than usual before handing out the work orders for the day.
Ellie sees Brother MacLaren get up and figures it’s time to head above deck. She’s about to retort at the pirates who block their way when Tempest, her old ship’s namesake, calmly casts a spell of some kind and, barely breaking stride, drops the lot of them. Whoa.
She follows her companions out of the crew deck, making no attempt to avoid kicking or stepping on the unconscious bodies in the process. Was that one even in her way? Eh, who cares.
This ship is falling apart... Melli thinks as she puts - no, splices - rope together. Her scowl from last night has only deepened. She didn't fight with Rosie, and then she missed the fight with Fipps Chumlett and his friends. Plus, her hangover from the...rum...seems to be gone.
Ellie's lessons from the day before seem to have stuck, and the rope splicing goes much, much better than the previous day's work, even though she rushes it. When she's finished, she wanders the ship, looking for any secrets the ship may be hiding. Her wanderings take her into the big hold in the middle deck.
Tempest gives Scourge a superior look in response to his confusion. When tasks are doled out, she can't help but smile. Finally, something I'm suited for.
Near the start of the day, Tempest corners Fipps Chumlett. She calls forth her magic, increasing the breeze around her, swirling her hair like raging stormclouds, complete with lightning flashing within. She leans close, her eyes alight with energy to stare him down, "You made a grave miscalculation this morning, Chumlett. I am not someone you want as your enemy. I do not forget slights, and I do not forgive easily. I don't expect you to switch sides, but if you know whats good for you, you'll stay the hells out of my way."
As the day goes by and she runs to and fro, she makes a point to navigate through whatever area Fipps has been assigned to, and to shove her way past him as she goes. She makes the occasional snide comment to the effect of, "Out of my way." as she does.
Are Fipps and his cronies late enough that they get flogged?
Brother MacLaren heads off to the galley, and spends the day listening to Fishguts' stories.
"So who do you think has a bit of heart here on the ship? Anybody who treats you with some decency? Sandara and Rosie seem okay. How about Grok?"
"Come on... you know that stuff's not any good. It'll kill you. Let's drink this ale. It tastes a lot better and it doesn't hit you as hard. What do you say?"
If that doesn't work, then he will subtly cast Purify Food and Drink on his extra rum ration. But he'd prefer open honesty with Kroop rather than subterfuge.
As his extra action, he will Sneak, checking out area A9 with no chance of discovery.
This is the ship’s main cargo hold. The hold is mostly empty, save for the 14 pigs; normally kept caged, they periodically escape and run loose within the hold. In the forward section, a flight of wooden stairs climbs up to the officers’ quarters (area A4), while a second set of stairs descends into the lower hold (area A10). A rather large human man is chained to the foremast, here. He looks at Melli with a blank expression, then goes back to picking feathers off of himself (it appears he was tarred and feathered recently). Another flight of stairs in the aft section next to the galley leads up to the captain’s quarters (area A5), but it is common knowledge among the crew that the door is trapped. Stored near the mainmast are two light ballistas, a disassembled light catapult, and 12 barrels containing 20 gallons of oil each.
Are Fipps and his cronies late enough that they get flogged?
Kroop laughs off MacLaren's concern about the rum, "Kill me, will it? Well, it's been taking it's damn time. I'd rather it hurry up and get it over with!"
MacLaren is able to purify his rum without issue, but Kroop insists on drinking his. That said, as they talk, he seems to lighten up a bit, and seems almost...content.
"Grok's got a good soul. She's always done right by me. She's had a hard life, she has, and we sorts gotta stick together. I ain't really talked to most o' the rest o' ya, 'cept you and the officers. I mostly jus' try to keep to meself."
The big man piques Melli's curiosity, and she watches intently as he picks feathers off of his skin. After a minute, she steps carefully forward and picks one off his calf. "You missed a spot. She flicks the feather and tar from her fingers onto the deck. "Name's Melli. I'm new with the crew. Who're you?"
Things end faster than they start, and Beryl doesn't even have the time to move before all enemies hit the floor. He just sneaks past them back up deck, happy to not even break a sweat.
Nice job, me' friend! Now 'yarr making me want tae' hear your stories even more. - he quickly tells the sylph as they move up deck.
At some point, as tasks are being divided, Beryl approaches her. He produces a heavy mace from his bag.
Would that be something that interests you? 'Ya can have this one, mate.
At some point, as tasks are being divided, Beryl approaches her. He produces a heavy mace from his bag.
Would that be something that interests you? 'Ya can have this one, mate.
At some point, as tasks are being divided, Beryl approaches him. He produces a book from his bag.
I have 'tis book here, which could help boost 'ya cooking quirks; you can keep it for now, if 'ya promise to keep it hidden from everybody else's eyes. Kroop especially! - the Dwarf winks, trying to see if the cleric catches his suggestion.
He's given the task to deal with the ropes and knots, and is fairly used to it... So he's glad not to be sent back to the bilges again! Just sad to not have anyone he knows directly with him, but he makes up for it by doing small chat here and there with whoever passes by.
Beryl will sneak to explore the lower decks of the ship.
Are these guys gonna be here every morning to "greet" us? I think a quick lesson in good manners is in order
As Veronica is about to rush the guy who just pushed Mac, she sees Tempest casting something as she approaches the group. Recognizing the spell she relaxes a bit and waits for it to take effect, ready to charge whomever is left standing.
This ought to be good. These guys won't know what hit them.
With the spell having done a splendid job, she walks out along with the others, while delivering a swift kick to one of the unconscious thugs.
"Nice work back there Tempest." She gives the sylph a smile as they get near the deck, and is quite amused by Scourge's confused look as they gather for their assignments.
7.5
15
22.5
30
37.5
45
45
52.5
60
Climbing to the crow's nest goes nearly as well as the previous day, and she figures she did her job as lookout adequately enough. As the day ends, she makes her way back to the deck, with one more task in mind.
She starts by grabbing two cups of water, and then going to find Rosie, with a grin on her face.
"Hey, could you do me a favor? There's someone I need to talk to, possibly fist to face, and I'd really prefer not to get interrupted. Think you can help? You can have a cup of mead here as thanks! I'd also appreciate any tips you could give me on what to include on my lecture."
Not managing to spot Fipps anywhere, she settles for one of the other thugs. She corners Aretta and pins her against a wall of the ship, staring into her eyes with an intimidating glare.
"Let me make something perfectly clear here. You might think being Scourge's lapdog means you can try to pull stunts like the one this morning and be safe from its consequences. But he's not the only one around here you should be afraid of. You got off easy today by being knocked out by my friend's spell - trust me, if I'd gotten to you first, you'd probably have ended up passed out as well, but the way there would have been quite more painful."
"If you or one of your pals tries to pull another stunt like this again, I'll find you for another quick chat. You do not want that to happen."
Sixteen pillars support the deck above this spacious hold. At night, the Wormwood’s common pirates tie their hammocks between the walls and pillars and sleep until dawn. Two minor officers, Kipper and Patch Patchsalt, have claimed the far forward section of the hold as their own, and their hammocks are strung between the foremast and the stairs leading up to the middle hold (area A6). A trap door just behind the mainmast opens onto the bilges below (area A11). The hold is currently empty of cargo, but several footlockers line the walls. Each member of the crew has a locker, equivalent to a small chest. At the start of the adventure, only 18 of these lockers are in use, while 22 empty lockers are stacked along the walls.
Ellie spends the day knitting sails with the casual speed of practice, though she doesn't get as much accomplished as she would have on any normal ship.
As dusk falls, once again, the ship's bell rings to mark the end of the working day. And once again, the pirates are gathered on the deck for Bloody Hour. Today is an unremarkable day, and only one swab is called forth for punishment. Crimson Cogward was caught slacking, and is sentenced to three lashes. It is a much calmer session than the previous night.
Once that is done, Fishguts and MacLaren bring up the leftovers from the previous night and begin serving it up, alongside the rum ration brought by Grok. Some of the crew grumble about it being the same thing two days in a row, but they take it nonetheless.
He flips through the book. "Some good ideas in here. Might save me a lashing. Look, if we get off this boat, I'll make you good on the value of it. If you still want to give it to me. Or else I saw nothing."
"I managed to have a little talk with one of our "friends" from this morning." Veronica says as she joins the group, a grin on her face. "I was actually looking for Fipps as he seemed to be leading the group, but I couldn't find him for some reason. But I think I managed to convince Aretta to avoid these kinds of stunts in the future."
She then turns to MacLaren, holding the cup with her rum ration.
"If yesterday's option is still available today, I'd really appreciate it if you could change this stuff to something drinkable. I already used the magic stuff I talked about yesterday..." Veronica stops a bit, as if she's just realized something, and turns to Sandara (or calls to her to join if she's not already here).
"Sandara, a quick question - when you "rescued" my spellbook, did you happen to see a cutlass in an elaborate black scabbard? It is kinda of a family heirloom, so I'd like to get it back if possible. If it's with Grok, I'll try to go there tomorrow, see how much I'll need to save up for it."
Veronica will thank Rosie again for her help during the day and offer to get her another drink during the day if she wants, while also letting her know how her talk went, and also try to find out more information on the rest of the thugs, in case she decides to approach another one tomorrow.
Ellie takes her rum ration and surreptitiously tosses it overboard. She can still feel the effects from last night, and she doesn't have the slightest interest in repeating it.
Being pointed in the direction of one of the other female swabs, Ellie approaches Tilly Brackett. "I think Fipps has it in for me. He ever try anything on you?"
She nods to Veronica. "Good, that's a start. I thought maybe the big one, Maheem, would be willing to talk after you dropped him so quickly," she looks at Tempest, "but no luck. Anyone learn anything about the ship?"
"Owlbear, huh? Did you get that name before the feathering, or after." Melli pulls a few more feathers off places the big man can't reach while chained, then puts her finger to her lips. "Listen, Owlbear. I've gotta go before they realize I'm down here, but I'll be back. Maybe I'll bring some food for you. Sound good?" Before he can really respond, Melli sneaks back up out of the hold.
"Hey, you all would not believe what I found belowdecks," Melli mutters into her food. She waits for the "rum" to be fixed tonight before drinking, and only eats about half of her portion of the leftovers. "They have a real live Owlbear chained up in the cargo hold. If you want to see, I'll show you. You just gotta be quiet, alright. It's not a big fan of surprises or sudden moves."
Melli heads into the hold, half of her evening rations wrapped up, and approaches the big man. "Hey, Owlbear. I told you I'd be back." She hands him the food. "It's not a lot, but I'm pretty small, so you get half of mine."
If MacLaren can turn her rum into something that won't kill her, Tempest takes the offer gladly. Sitting and talking with the others, she chimes in about Fipps, "I spoke with him, actually. Made a point he shouldn't be pulling crap like that." She glances around to see if anyone's eavesdropping, "He said Scourge put them up to it. Seems like the bastard has it in for us."
Feeling the effects of running all day seeping in, once the conversation starts to die down, Tempest excuses herself to head to bed, opting to sleep it off.
Brother MacLaren will cast Purify Food and Drink on his own rum ration and that of anyone else who wants it. And, as well, he will conjure far more potable ale.
Would it be odd or unusual if Maclaren were to search the galley as his night action? Given that Beryl found a useful cookbook there, it is possible that with some searching Brother MacLaren could find some useful equipment. He isn't particularly stealthy, so if he isn't supposed to be in the galley at night then he won't go. But if as the cook's mate he can get away with tidying up the place, that seems a good idea.
Sandara thinks a moment on Veronica's question, "I remember seeing the hilt of some kind of sword, yes. It was all kinda piled together, though, so I didn't get a good look at it. It's a good bet, though, that if you had it on you when you got kidnapped, that Grok has it. Fair warning, though, she's not just going to give it to you. You might want to try to earn some coin gambling or find something you can barter with..."
Despite the offer of drink, Rosie doesn't seem to warm up to Veronica any further. In fact, Veronica very nearly accidentlly insults her. Veronica is able to glean some more information about Maheem. Despite his large size, the big man is absolutely terrified of the occult, spirts, ghosts, curses, etc. He's also a bit of a lech, and has tried to proposition Aretta on a few occassions in exchange for coin.
Tilly seems willing to chat, though tends to weave crude jokes into the conversation. The talk doesn't seem to be very productive, however.
"What? They can't have an Owlbear, Melli. You must be mistaken. An illusion, maybe?"
His curiosity piqued, Brother MacLaren follows the halfling to the cargo hold.
Veronica nods at Tempest's comment about Scourge and Fipps: "Yeah, I kinda figured that's what was going on, with the looks he was giving us and them this morning. Maybe we should keep on persuading them to stop - take away his little goon squad, and without them doing his dirty work, Scourge's ability to terrorize the rest of the crew should drop somewhat."
"Thanks for the tip Sandara. I actually had a more mundane sword on me when we got caught, you could have seen that one instead - Maybe I'll give Grok a visit and check, or if anyone else is also thinking of going there, I'd appreciate it if you asked her about it. Rosie just gave me a pretty good idea to try tomorrow, and I don't know if I'll have the time to go there." Veronica thanks Sandara with a smile, but ends her reply with a mischievous grin on her face.
The Dwarf smiles silently to the cavalier, then leaves.
In this case, I'll hold it mah'self. - says Beryl, keeping the book and putting it back on his bag - I don't trust him, and if ya' can't make me' condition, t'seems fair I'll just keep it for now so you don't have to hurt anyone's feelings.
He pauses for a moment, then produces a heavy mace from his bag.
Well, this one I don't care who you tell about, as long as ya' don't say t'was from me. Just avoid me' head when you swing it, alright? - completes the Dwarf, extending the hilt of the weapon to the cleric.
Hah! It makes sense, mate! - he laughs a little bit, in low volume, then pulls back the mace and stores again - Very well. I will try to find something more suitable, me' agile one!
Beryl gets his ration, but this time he waters it down with his own aquakinesis. The drink still has some effect, but it's a lot milder.
As he's drinking the rum, he thinks on how he missed some good drink. He walks around, then finally stops by an one-eyed gnome.
Howdy, mate! - he speaks, greeting her - So, what's yer' story, lass? Maybe we can exchange sum'stories over this terrible rum? Hah!
He laughs, already thinking about the first story he will tell. The talespinner is ugly, not really social, but somehow he makes up for it with his wits and silver tongue.