Despite his best efforts, Izkaen cannot manage to fulfill his tasks this day, either, and is left utterly drained thanks to trying so hard to do so. This place is getting to me worse than I thought... or I'm a lot less competent than I thought I was. Not a pleasant thought, that.
QUARTERMASTER'S
Grok is found by Lily in a mild mood. She sees the mace and licks her tusks as she inspects the mace. "Bit dirty, rusty, but the head and handle are solid. I'd give you 6 golds for it, or trade it for a weapon of equal value. As for the bow, yeah I have a fiddle bow around here somewhere."
When Jacques visits, the half-orc's eyes widen in recognition of his ancestor's name, her green skin paling as Jacques filled her head with visions and imagined whispers. She tears her area apart in her scramble to hand the rapier and book back to the Garundi. "WHY! Why does Harrigan meddle with these things? First that devil woman now this!
NAVIGATION
While working, Aamu does not go out of his way to avoid Lonegan, but he does usually seek out small talk actively throughout the day. At least not initially
Eventually, his curiosity takes over, and he initiates a conversation when he and Lonegan are working near each other.
"Sooo... What was the other morning about, exactly?"
Lily trades the weapon for the fiddle bow and nods, ”That should liven up the evenin’.”
When Jacques explains about the curse she makes the sign of Asmodeus to ward off the bad luck and asks, ”Does he keep bananas? Cats’re s’posed to be lucky, we should get one o’ them next we’re ashore. Donna want Harrigan to be the death ‘o us. What else is he dabbling with he shouldna be?”
Jacques takes back his rapier and spellbook after a moment. "I will take these off your hands, as there is less chance the curse will affect me as a blood relative. But it may be that you continue to suffer because of the grandam's wrath! Let me know if you continue to feel the effects. We may be able to exorcise the spirits if your wounds still ache and your dreams haunt you." He smiles inwardly, sadistically enjoying the pain of someone that he feels has wronged him by stealing his possessions.
QUARTERMASTER'S
Grok frowns. "We can't hold onto cats for long. Either they get eaten by vermin or killed by some drunkard's blind rage. As for the Cap'n ..." Grok shakes her head. "Rumors. Hearsay. I shouldn't have said anything. Got me all shook, now." With a dismissive grunt, she shuts the upper half of the door and you can hear the sound of a latch locking and the uncorking of a bottle.
AAMU
Syl glares at Aamu, fighting with the rigging 20 ft up. "Plugg dinnae like ye. If he dinnae like a fool, we rough 'em up. Simple as that." She leaned down, almost upside down, to lock her manic eyes with the vanara's. "Truth be clear, I dinnae like ye much either. If I had been given orders to, I'd cut ye loose and let ye fall into the sea right now. Blessed are ye that I ain't been given such an order."
Hearing the response, Aamu lets out a robust laugh while shaking his head in disbelief. "But why? We never spoke." Once he calms down, he keeps working and continues. "To clarify, I don't exactly love you either, but I don't make a habit of shivving random strangers before breakfast. Are we not the same crew?"
Lily returned to not catching rats, she was too apprehensive about Grok's statements.
Now almost as an after thought, when she saw Rosie next as she navigated the ship, she presented the bow she had traded for to the halfling woman, "Do ye know any fu-ge? I think that's what they call it. It's borin' without music at night."
AAMU
Syl cackled. "We ain't the same crew. Blood binds out here, monkey. Thicker than water, and all that. We haven't bleed for each other yet, fought and killed together. Survive that, then maybe we'll talk being the same crew."
LILY
Rosie's eyes light up, her normal scowl softening as she receives Lily's gift. "Oh, I know a thing or two. You and yours have my thanks." Immediately, the halfling rushes the bow to her locker, placing it with the matching fiddle. "Anything I can do for you or yours, let me know. I'll have your back."
Ramada works reasonably diligently in the bowels of the ship - at the very least, the bilge pump is a relatively welcome change from the rat-traps, and the deep one surgeon actually finds the physical labor involved quite easy.
The piscine physician mostly avoids trying to win over the others as he works - both Rosie and Fipps are fairly steady in their loyalties, and he's well aware of his own shortcomings as a conversationalist. Instead, he decides to poke around the bilges, idly wondering if anything useful might have collected in the depths of the Wormwood.
While he's not much for conversation, he does idly chat with the others as he works. "Fipps, your vest is... hmm... Chelish Navy, unless I miss my mark? Not as great a distance from here as the... hmm... Soivoda, but a distance nonetheless. What brings you to... hmm... this part of the world?" He glances over at the bald sailor between pumps, his tongue moistening his bulging eyes as he nods at the other man's bald head. "In my homeland, the monks of... hmm... the Monastery of the Veil shave their heads, in service to She of Graves - I've seen you shave your... hmm... head, is it in obeisance also?"
Fortunately, Aamu finishes his work while Lonegan is making a fool of herself. He sighs, disappointed. "Right, right. Well, good thing Mister Jape bled for you, I guess. Saw the man bleed all over the railing and Plugg's whip after -you- left the man unconscious on lower deck and -I- had to drag him to roll call."
He looks at the deck, then back at Lonegan. "Oh, oh! And we shouldn't forget Magpie. I think that was the name, at least. But we were never really introduced. Fellow did a whole lot of bleeding for you, too. Made a nice trip around the ship hull. You must be the best of friends. Then again, with friends like that...", he stops himself, realising he is rambling. "You know what, never mind. I saw some loose pulleys near the poop deck. You have fun over here."
Aamu disappears from Lonegan's sight, not interested in that interaction anymore.
Lily nods and gives Rosie a crocodile's smile as she pledges herself to her crew. "Thank ye. If I ever be needing a favor I'll call on ye."
RAMADA
Fipps absently rubs a hand over his shaven head. "No. It is far more mundane than that. Initially I kept it short to keep opponents from grabbing it, then a lice infestation made me shave it off entirely. However, you are not off on the Navy guess. Former Chelish Marines out of Sargava."
The overweight Chelaxian, despite his shape and sweat, performs his tasks with the same efficiency one would expect from the Infernal Empire's military. Ramada could assume vice outweighing the exercise needed for sailing. Perhaps his favored position as an enforcer or loyal crewman allows for privileges.
Having no interest in further interactions with the woman, Aamu continues his work but maintains a healthy distance from Lonegan.
NIGHTTIME
As the day's shift winds down, Plugg appears on deck and calls Lily and Izkaen over to him. Scourge, Narwhal, and Maheem stand with him, outnumbering the half-orc and elf two to one.
"I understand you two performed subpar today. One of you even snuck off to visit the shop for a ... fiddle bow, was it?" Plugg sniffed. "Rosie dearest vouched for you, but Fipps don't. While I am not opposed to a bit of music over fish stew, I expect work to come before slacking off. As for you, elf, I know you and Ratline are slim ones, but that's no excuse on this ship. Am I clear?"
No one is drawing whips or cat-o-nines, so it seems Lily and Izkaen are being let off with warnings this time. However, the four vs two reinforces who holds the power on the Wormwood.
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Jaquelyn watch quietly, glad that the only lashing was a verbal one. Though I'm sure that won't last. We still need to figure out how to get out of this.
Once food is being passed out, she will retrieve her plate and her rum ration, joining her motley gang to eat.
Noticing Rosie has her instrument ready to go, once the halfling is done with her food, Jacquelyn will lean over towards her. "Mind playing something fun and loud? I'd love to have a distraction for what I'm gonna do next."
Once Rosie starts playing, Jacquelyn will try and position herself with bodies between her and any unfriendly crew, then cast Read Weather
Lily's mouth draws in a thin line as she is berated, she fully expected to receive lashes for her performance so far. She thought that her duties did not match her strengths, why wasn't she in the rigging?
She managed to bark out while standing at attention, "Aye aye, sir!"
Later she took her rum ration sourly.
Lily, drunk and angry from her dressing down, approached the arm wrestling table again. She threw a gold coin into the pot against whoever would dare to challenge her.
Izkaen accepts the scolding with an exhausted equanimity, as well as the alcohol. However, the moment that he has the chance, he dumps it over the side of the ship, then swiftly heads to bed.
LILY
Maheem challenges Lily, the Garundi man a head taller than most of the crew. However, as Lily channels her rage the human's fist and forearm are shoved mercilessly into the bloodstained metal tacks kept for this game. Half a dozen crewmen had gathered for the match up, and quite a few coins exchange hands. .
GENERAL
Rosie, reunited with her fiddle's bow, plays above deck as the crew take their evening meal. Audible complaints arise from the poor quality, and as voices begin to accuse Jacques a rotund man with bloodshot eyes and a chicken filth-stained shirt raises his voice, slurred from rum, and takes the blame.
"Sorry, laddies and lassies. Ain't his fault, twas mine. I was nae payin' me mate no nevermind."
Plugg appears and speaks softly to Kroop, who dejectedly follows him into the captain's cabin. A few minutes later he emerges nursing a busted lip. He gives Jacques a friendly wink before retreating back below decks.
Aamu will take his meal and rum rations and go sit down to eat in peace. After he is seated with the circle of new bloods, the vanara looks around to see who is where. He speaks in a calm, matter-of-factly tone."Apparently. we've been attacked...", he pauses and looks at Lily. "Well, there was an -attempted- attack, but that fire was put out fast. Anyway - I spoke to Lonegan, and she said Plugg doesn't like us because..." He scratches his head. "Well, it doesn't matter why. He just doesn't and the people who approached us got orders to do so. And they don't like us either, apparently. Just something to think about." He continues with the food, looking towards Jacques every few bites. "This is an unusual taste. A dish from your homeland, perhaps?"
After the chat with the newcomers is done, Aamu will excuse himself and walk to one of the riggers he works with - Barefoot Samms Toppin. Being a man of many great oratory talents, he attempts to initiate the conversation with a topic both parties are familiar with.
"I don't think I have ever met a human that doesn't wear shoes. Then again, most humans I have met have decided to trek through a jungle. Would you like to compare calouses?"
After completing her spell, Jacquelyn will look around and locate Shivikah, and walk over to sit next to her.
"Any idea why the captain is sailing us out this way? You think we might be heading to Motaku or Bag Island? Or maybe even further? Why won't he tell anyone where we are headed?"
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Jacques is surprised that his cooking failure is so quickly dealt with, and by his superior officer. He resolves to think better of Kroop in the future, while also noting that the old drunkard is apparently easily manipulated. "I was born in Port Peril," he says shortly, in response to Aamu's question. He drinks his rum ration, scowling at the awful taste.
Flush with confidence, he seeks out one of the crew that he believes to be firmly in Plugg's camp, the Rahadoumi rigger named Maheem. Sliding up beside him, he mutters "This is a warning. You had best abandon your alliance with Plugg, or there will be serious consequences. Do not stand against Lily and her mates, for we will see that you suffer terribly for each slight you evoke against her. By my oath."
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AAMU
Samms beams and hoists her feet up from her seated position to reveal soles that would rival any halfling. "Never liked shoes far back as I can recall. Sure, they not pretty now, but on a ship where you need to feel where you're stepping there's no substitute." They are rough and sport a couple of corns, but after seeing her running across the deck and climbing the rigging Aamu cannot really argue with the results. "Sorry you got roped into this, friend. The only reason one should take to sea is of their own free will answering the call. You were a native of Port Peril?"
JACQUELYN
The tall Garundi woman shifts uncomfortably as the undine approaches her. She shrugs noncommittally at her posed question. "Not our place to question the cap'n. Nor is it common practice to tell the crew everything. Especially not those who have yet to prove themselves real members of the crew. As far as most of us are concerned, you are little better than slaves aboard this damned vessel." Shivikah meets Jacquelyn's eyes, and the druid can feel the callous soul of someone who cares little for the feelings of others. "Test our loyalty to Harrigan at your own peril. Whether we like him or not does not diminish our fear and respect for the dangerous man that he is."
JACQUES
Maheem, already sullen from Lily handily besting his strength, chuckles without mirth at Jacques threat. "You think I'm so easily scared of you and yours? You merely put me between an unproven threat and another that I know the power of. Prove you can live up to your grandam's legacy and perhaps I will take your threat seriously, eh?" He turns away, but then with an exaggerated whiff, barks out a laugh. "Or perhaps learn to hold your rum first. HA!"
Jaquelyn nods, hiding her concern at the unexpected response. "Dangerous is certainly an apt word. I would not ask you to strain your loyalty. No one wants to end up like Magpie for sure."
She lets the thought hang unsupported in the night for a few long moments.
"Well anyway, praise Besmara for the days of smooth sailing to come she has granted us. Only thing worse than sailing into unknown waters would be doing so in a storm. Though, far be it from me to deny the beauty of a good storm. Maybe some day."
The undine stands. "Anyway, sorry for interrupting your meal with such bleak talk as keelhauling crewmates and storms. If you would prefer to be alone I will rejoin my fellow not-quite-slaves. Desna grant you luck to avoid peril, and Besmara grant you skill to survive what you cannot avoid."
Jaquelyn will hesitate long enough for any response the Garundi woman wishes to provide, but will rejoin her companions unless asked to stay.
The vanara chuckles and raises his own foot to present it. "Hah. I guess you win. Our people are used to a shoeless life, so I guess your skin is tougher indeed."
"Port Peril? No." He sighs longingly. "No, I hail from the eastern jungle. Mwangi. I was in Port Peril to meet a man, but it seems that won't happen now." Aamu looks around the ship, constricting him to a life without tall trees to jump from and to. At least the work in the rigging is adjacent to that. "I used to be a wilderness guide. Maybe I can put that experience to use if we stop on an island without civilisation, or something. We'll see. But there's no point crying over it. The winds of fate blew me here, and I've never been one to complain. It's a new experience, if nothing else."
A smirk appears on his face, almost resembling a smile, even if for a moment. "But thank you for the sentiment. I feel it could get monotonous, so I'm looking for more friendly souls...", he looks at the woman. "But where are your roots? I think I heard an accent."
As mugs of grog are passed around, Doctor Ramada finds a seat near Badger Medlar, joining the weathered half-elf in a quieter corner of the mess hall. The fish-eyed physician glances over the older woman briefly from behind his spectacles, his tongue snaking up to moisten one eye. "You have the air of an experienced sailor about you, mein Freunde. Have you had many postings before this?"
The nascent deep one scowls, sipping at his mug. "I have had a fair few myself. Some worse than this, but not many. Most ships have need of a surgeon - this one more than many others, I think. I've met your old surgeon - the man struck me as a sot. Probably a butcher also, but that is nothing new, I fear - unless a surgeon is trained in Ustalav or the Padishah Empire, he is very much a butcher by the standards of modern medicine." He raises his eyebrows inquisitively at the older half-elf. "I take it you have seen many things - do you have any tales of your travels?"
JACQUELYN
AAMU
Samms purses her lips as she thinks back. "I've seen enough Taldans to know I'm probably one of them. However, I've ever only known the Shackles. I think my folks might have been colonists down in Sargava once upon a time, if your going by accents that's mine."
"Been on the Wormwood for a couple of years, didn't get pressganged but I'm admittedly not a fan of how the cap'n does things. Don't let Scourge catch me saying that out loud."
RAMADA
Badger nods as Ramada speaks of his encounter. "The Stitchman? Aye, that sounds like him. The cabin girl, Caulky, got a piece of something in her eye, and Mister Quarne let his tool slip. Cost the cap'n's favorite an eye. You better be better than that, fishface."
"As for me? I got pressganged onto this fine vessel maybe a decade ago. Stayed on Scourge's good side till I proved myself, now I just do what I'm told unless I feel like earned a bit more than normal. I wasn't much of a sailor before that, but I was a quick learner and steady on my feet. That'll get you far on the waters, more than mere strength will."
"I have seen a few things. Heard more. Heard Infernal Cheliax is building a navy to reclaim Sargava, and that the Hurricane King is demanding black powder weapons as tribute in addition to booty and bodies from the Free Captains. You've had the fine fortune to take to the seas during a tense time, doc."
"Here's to that.", Aamu chuckles and raises his drink. "On that topic - a couple of years? Did you know his predecessor? Or know how he became captain?"
Aamu spends some time in conversation, figuring out the history of the ship and Harrigan.
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Samms tells Aamu what she knows - or thinks she knows. Harrigan has always been captain of the Wormwood. He'd never admit it but recent years had been marked by a string of rotten luck for him and his crew, adding to the hearsay of the ship being "mildly" cursed. Some have taken to whispering that Harrigan made a deal with a devil to turn his luck around, a theory that had gained traction with tales of renewed Chelish interest in the Shackles and Sargava further south.
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The night wraps up as neatly as the day began. No one is punished, no one fights, and other than some sour bets lost from Lily's wins spirits are slightly raised from Rosie's music lulling them to sleep below decks and Jacquelyn's promises of clear skies.
The fourth day is met with Plugg and Scourge divvying up assignments. Lily and Ramada are tasked to general repairs: sewing sails, splicing ropes, etc. They are joined by Jack Scrimshaw, Tilly Brackett - a Taldan woman who passes the time cracking jokes, and Jaundiced Jape.
Aamu is tasked to line work, hoisting and lowering sails, and is tasked to this alone.
Izkaen is tasked with rigging repair, joined by the halfling Ratline.
Jacquelyn is tasked with raising and lowering the mainsail as demanded, joined by Samms and Shortstone. The gnome, having been told off my Jacquelyn, now seems to ply conversation from the friendly Samms.
Jacques finds a sober Kroop in the galley, organizing his herbs, spices, and fishbones and offering a swollen-lipped smile to his "matey". Fishguts ensures cooking goes by without a hitch.
Jacques spends a bit of time watching Kroop work in the galley, making conversation with him in an attempt to show gratitude for his taking the fall for Jacques's stew the previous evening.
After spending a couple of hours listening to the man's instructions and reminiscing, Jacques suggests he should take a walk to clear his head. He spots Lily and Ramada repairing sails, and slyly notes that Jaundiced Jape is also working on weaving ropes in the same area. He heads over to the yellow-eyed half-orc and looms nearby, watching him with a menacing smile. He laughs cruelly whenever Jape hesitates or drops a braid. If Jape asks what he is doing, he murmurs "We are keeping an eye on you, connard. Plugg isn't always going to be around to reward you for toadying him! When things change around here, you want to be on the right side of the crew, and where you are now leads to keelhauling... or worse!"
Lily tries to laughs at Tilly's jovial attitude and makes a few jokes her own, "An old salt swaggers into a bar. He has a ship’s wheel stuffed into the front o' his trousers. The bartender says, “Hey, you’ve got a ship’s wheel in your trousers!”
The ‘ol salt says, “Aye mate and it’s driving me nuts!”
She's much happier doing what she considered work more aligned with her talents, especially the rope work.
Jaquelyn handles the mainsail quite capably, using the task as another opportunity to pay attention to the calls the helmsman makes, and the why and when of the choices, absorbing all of the sailing knowledge she can.
Some time into her shift, she leans back, knuckling her back as the aches already begin to set in, and nods amicably at Shortstone. "Sorry for snapping at you the other day. But also, thank you for being polite today. I do appreciate it. You mind covering for a minute? My legs need a stretch."
Once away from her task, the undine will slip belowdecks, ending up among the bunks, and once checking the coast is clear, take as many minutes as she thinks she can spare searching through the belongings of crew loyal to Plugg, specifically looking for any weapons she can steal.
Aamu spends his day hard at work, alone. If anyone pays attention, they can hear him whistle on occasion. Most of the melodies are off-key, but he doesn't mind.
Izkaen, determined not to fail his tasks for another day in a row, dedicates himself to working on them. I've gotten too much of his attention now to risk going off and doing anything else. He reflects as he clambers up to the rigging. Hopefully the others have something going on.
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JACQUES
Jape does not speak, but he frowns up at Jacques with his yellowed eyes and makes two gestures. The first is a pinching motion at his throat and his open mouth making a hollow gasp but no words coming out. The second is a crude gesture based on the foul expression on the half-orc's face - making a fist then extending his index and pinkie fingers, Jape jerks the extended fingers up beneath his chin and then sticks out his tongue.
LILY
Tilly barks out a raucous laugh at Lily's joke, slapping her thigh as she works between the two half-orcs. "HA! Drevin' me noots! Imma reemember dat wun! Ye be far better comp'ny than Jape 'ere. 'E's a mute, so no jooks from 'im."
JACQUELYN
Slipping away from her duties, the undine had made note of the lockers in the berth of the ship and had identified the ones belonging to Aretta Bansion, Fipps Clumlett, Maheem, and Tam "Narwhal" Tate.
AAMU AND IZKAEN
The day begins and progresses, the elf suffering a bit while the vanara whistles merrily.
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Ramada works quietly alongside the others as they perform upkeep on the ship's worn-out equipment - his heavily webbed fingers fumble with the fine manual dexterity required of the task, but he does an adequate job, quickly getting into a rhythm as he patches holes in an old sail. Listening to Tilly's jokes, one corner of his mouth twitches upwards as he remembers a humorous story from his time as a physician in Caliphas, though he decides not to share it after a moment's thought, realizing how much time it would take to explain the ways of the distant land.