Skull & Shackles: Red Sky at Morning (Inactive)

Game Master Vanulf Wulfson

"Now this here boy approached the docks, lookin’ to get paid;
He drank powder mixed with rum at Formidably Maid;
Some go willing, most do not, when the press-gang calls;
There’s crew to fill, and they pay in swill, till the ocean takes them all."

"Aye, lad, aye, lass, live by Besmara’s code;
Many a journey started here, if the truth be told.
Aye, lad, aye, lass, drink Besmara’s mead;
By strength or spell, give ’em hell, and fill your ship with gold."
Tinosecky Ayondoth, Tino to his friends, the owner of the Formidably Maid finishes his song and picks up his drink "Drink up, Lads and Lasses, for who knows what tomorrow may bring, but tonight we drink!" so saying he knocks back a shot of Kill-Devil the house's homemade, and potent, rum before wandering the Main Deck and making his way behind the bar.

Perched on the far shores of Port Peril’s docks, the [u]Formidably Maid[/u] calls to sailors across the Shackles like a siren to so many doomed crews. With strong drinks and boisterous crowds, the notorious pirate tavern often serves as a first port of call for returning mariners and a final shore destination for those about to head to sea. Between wild tales, bawdy songs, and frenetic brawls, ship captains also quietly trade here in stolen goods, maps to lost treasure, and innocent lives.

It is here you find yourself, for reasons of your own, the night before destiny unveils it's plan.

Overkill DOT

Striding into the Formidably Maid is 3' of unconventional gobbo pirate. Red eyes stand out against the green skin of this pantaloon-wearing, miniature corsair. One shoulder is heavily laden with a waterproof sea-bag with the end of an unstrung bow peeking out of it. Slung rakishly across his chest is an oversized bandolier. Tied to the bandolier at shoulder height is a human-sized axe whose butt-end scrapes across the floorboards. Completing the pirate look, Eli wears a large, salt-sprayed, leather tricorn hat. He whips the hat off in a debonair fashion for a passing trollop who he mistakes for a lady of high standing. Covering his skull (also at a rakish angle) is a 'pirate necessity' - a red silk bandana. Unfortunately, Eli doesn't realise what most of the people in the room do, that his bandana is actually a pair of women's panties.

The goblin’s red eyes take in the tavern’s sights and sounds with obvious delight. This was real piratey! His parents had insisted that first impressions were important… so Eli decides to establish his credibility as a corsair-with-sea-water-running-through-his-veins by grabbing a flagon of grog and bursting into a sea shanty he’s taken pains to memorize. Mind you, he was still trying to decipher the meaning of the fourth stanza.

Hey HO! Ohhhhh, I’m a flinty sea-dog…

Cuz I’m a FLINTY sea-dog – Hey Ho!
Cuz I’m a flinty SEA-DOG – Hey Ho!
Cuz I’m a flinty sea-dog – HEY HO!

The little goblin delivers an absolute tour-de-force of horrendous, off-key, and piss-poor singing.

Perform (Sing – Sea Shanty): 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0

Sitting quietly at one of the corner tables, a red headed, scruffy looking guy struggles with staying upright in his chair as he attempts to polish off what looks like a pint of rum. It is plainly obvious he is drunk out of his mind but seems to still have enough strength to lift the mug. His tattered peasant looking clothing quickly identifies him as some sort of ship’s hand who looks to be spending what little coin he has on booze. The only two thing that stands out about the man is the fact that he is extremely burly, and he has a menacing two-handed hammer propped up against his table. “Egerm, someone bring…more grog!” Be belts out just before doing a faceplant onto his table.

A human man wanders into the Formidibly Maid, he's in his mid-twenties with probably two weeks of sea-beard grown in and his dark hair pulled back. He walked with the land uncomfortableness of someone who spends most of his time on shipboard, meaning it was difficult to tell if he was already intoxicated, or merely just off the rolling deck of a schooner. Perched atop his head was a well-worn leather tricorne, and a well-handled rapier tucked into his sash belt with a well-worn pistol formed in the shape of a mermaid on his right hip. He wandered to the bar, dropping a seabag at his feet, ordering the house rum, and quickly downing it. He listened for a time to the tales being told around him, prodding at the edges about names of ships, and crews, captains, and other information he might gain, before the eye of a pair of women across the bar and sauntered across....

Striding into the Formidably Maid is a young woman with a winning smile which she immediately directs towards Tino. A wide-brimmed black hat is set over flaming red hair and bright blue eyes. Her shirt is white and unbuttoned just enough to reveal a small amount of cleavage. Dark blue trousers and well-worn leather boots complete the look.

She's beautiful, but that's not why all eyes in the bar turn to her. No, that would be because behind her walks a crocodile with a red ribbon tied around his neck. While the pretty red bow indicates that he must be some sort of pet, he is still a crocodile and therefore not something one would normally expect to see walking into a bar. Not even in Port Peril.

Tino barely looks up. "No."

"Oh come on!" After that initial burst of exasperation the winning smile turns up another few notches. The woman leans against the bar, displaying her cleavage to its best advantage. "I'm probably leaving Port Peril soon, you know. I just want to be able to have a last hurrah without having to worry about poor Chomps sitting outside all alone. See how sad he looks?"

'Poor Chomps' does indeed look rather pitiful. Perhaps this is because he's significantly smaller than most of his kind. Or perhaps the ribbon is emasculating ecrocodilating him. It's hard to tell.

"He'll stay under the table and won't be any trouble, I promise. Cross my heart-"

"No animals in the bar. No exceptions. We've had this talk before."

The woman pouts but Tino is unmoved. "Fine. Come on Chomps." She stalks out, Chomps dutifully following, and comes back crocodileless a few minutes later. "He's waiting behind the bar. Sad. Alone. It could start raining any minute."

"Do you want a drink or not?"

"Gimme some rum."

Completely inebriated, the red-headed sailor sits up just long enough to catch a glimpse of the crocodile as it enters the room. After pausing for a moment, he then turns his attention towards the half empty stein sitting at his table. He takes one more look back over at the crock just before face planting back into the table. Moments later he begins mumbling something about what he just saw. “Eck, rumgator cumin to cheromp me leg. Eck, good rum, more rum." Soon the drunkard fades back off into a stupor.

Well played, Jezanna, ‘ecrocodilating’ cracked me up.

While his shanty didn’t garner the enthusiasm he hoped for, the little goblin’s spirit is undaunted. He soaks in the ‘piratical ambience’ with glee. Even the drunkard passed out on a table is magical to him.

But the crocodile, oh the crocodile, takes his piratamometer to the top! His shark-toothed grin is improbably wider than his over-sized head. It only flags when the croc is forced to leave. Eli debates speaking with the flame-haired woman… he chooses to finish a pint of grog to pluck up his courage.

Shortly after the red-haired woman returns to the bar without her pet, another woman sidles into the Formidably Maid. Taller than most of the other patrons, with an overstuffed-looking physique, not the kind of plumpness that suggested a life of leisure, but something stranger, like no normal person with that body would be shaped like that. The ashen-gray skin of her exposed upper arms has a few rows of neat little scars, as if she's repeatedly made small, precise cuts that have added up over time. Her eyes are a dull, reddish brown, bloodshot and intense, and she has short shock of hair so blonde it almost looks white, which only adds to the look of a person who's "not from around here." She's dressed in light, colorless robes of linen, clearly meant to hang off the body to mitigate the heat, but on her they appear stretched like the casing of a sausage, with a broad, strong belt from which hangs a well-worn, waterproofed book, with the kind of sigils that signal to all "I am a wizard, do not trifle with me." In her hand, she holds a small bag with what seems to be a heavy load.

She doesn't say a thing as she moves through the crowded tavern, with a surprising amount of grace given her form, and seats herself at the bar, the stool creaking a bit under her. She looks over at the menu board, listening to the gods-awful singing of the strange goblin with what appears to be a look of amused contempt on her face, before turning to Tino, reaching into a pouch on her belt and setting out five coppers before him.

"The fish pie, please. To start." she says in a deep, husky voice.

While Tino gets her food, she pulls up the bag and sets it on the bar with both hands, then turns to look at the door while keeping one hand on the bag so no one messes with it. Clearly she's expecting someone.