Jaquelyn, very tired from a hard days work and the fight, not to mention still feeling unclean from her exposure to the stagnant water, tucks in early to rest.
Jacques tries again to exert influence over one of the crewmembers who is not already obviously decided in their allegiance.
Izkaen drops his grog over the corner when none of the rest of the crew is looking, then goes out seeking one of the unaffiliated crew members - specifically, the one-eyed gnome that had been injured earlier that day. "So," he says after greeting her politely, "those rats were not a particularly nice bunch. How badly did the one get you?"
SWAYING
Aamu, having already built rapport with Samms, finds pleasant conversation with her through the night till sleep found them. Jacques, using his fearsome size and reputation, speaks with the young Jack Scrimshaw and seems convinced that the young man will side with him should the officers try and force an issue involving them both.
Izkaen approaches the gnome, who’s leg seems well tended to, as are those wounds Ramada tended to. “Felt worse than it was, it seems.” Giffer sniffed, gingerly touching the area. “You’ve brought a keen eyed doc aboard, elf. Smells as weird as he looks, but he knows what he’s doing when it comes to stitch and poultice.” She will continue pleasant small talk as long as Izkaen desires, seeming to warm up to the odd bunch brought on most recently.
SLEEPING
Lily and Jacquelyn retire to their bunks, sleep finding them swiftly.
"Good to hear you're doing better." Izkaen chuckles, a gently amused sound. "He is an odd one, I agree. I've yet to spend much time with him, but it's reassuring to hear that his skills aren't in doubt." His monochromatic eyes twinkle briefly as he settles back on his heels, examining the rest of the crew.
"It feels like our crewmates aren't always the most compassionate." The samurai observes mildly. I wonder whether she'll pick up on that? Sometimes those outside of the Shogunate didn't catch his implications.
The night is uneventful, rolling into the fifth day. Same as before, Plugg and Scourge assign tasks. This time around, the Wormwood is sailing a bit closer to shore. Not so close as to tempt those without , but in the shallow clear waters fish and a bale of leatherback turtles can be seen swimming around the ship. Those assigned above decks will cast glances over the side to watch.
Jacques, as he meets with a sober Kroop, is handed a harpoon and treble hook. "Got it in me 'ead to catch us some leatherbacks." The shorter man smiles wide as he'll lead Jacques up on deck and begin to walk him through the process of targeting large turtles swimming along the shallows.
Lily is assigned to swab the decks, along with Sandra, Scrimshaw, and Aretta.
Ramada is sent to man the bilges.
Aamu and Jacquelyn are sent up to be lookouts as the Wormwood sails closer to shore.
Izkaen is tasked with line work along with Slippery Syl and the Narwhal.
Izkaen dedicates himself to doing his work, determined not to give the tyrannical petty officers the chance to criticize his work.
Jaquelyn spends most of the day looking out over the waves and to the shore, making small talk with Aamu as the ship sails on. She does note the landmass they are next to, trying to see if she can identify it.
She does interrupt her normal duties shortly after midmorning, taking a moment to cast Read Weather to get an updated forecast.
Jacques does his best to help Kroop catch leatherbacks, though he clearly has no idea what he is doing.
When Lily was assigned to swab again she quietly thought about how these duties were beneath a sailor of her caliber. She avoided Aretta as best she could knowing that they were in Plugg’s favor. She made small talk with Jack Scrimshaw. ”Why are ya called Scrimshaw,” she asked bluntly. ”Me ma liked carvin’ wood. Is carvin’ scrimshaw like that?”
Aamu makes small talk, but leaves Jaquelyn to her own devices once she starts performing rituals. He does observe, however. Once she is done, and only after she is done and he is sure, he addresses her. "You're a, uh...", he scratches his head. "A shaman or something like that? What was that?"
Other than that, he works diligently. As usual.
He observes the shallow waters and the shores in sight, longingly. "This must be a purposeful provocation" The vanara muses.
The undine continues sitting in the crows nest for a moment, staring at the sky, before replying. "Something like that. Shamans are similar, but I specifically am a Druid." She stands. "My magic comes from the primal energies of nature herself. That spell there was a simple one, just used to check the weather for the next few days."
Later, in response to Aamu's musing, she snorts. "A foolish one. I'm willing to bet I could swim that gap without much trouble." She looks at her plainly non-aquatic companion. "Though I suppose most of the crew couldn't. Either way, I expect Harrigan enjoys every chance he gets to flex the power he wields."
"Never been much of a swimmer. I picked it up eventually, but there were very few opportunities to do so." Aamu keeps looking at the shore. "Heh. I'm not reaching that place. That land might as well be the moon. Maybe I'll get some practice as a sailor. Who knows?" He shrugs and looks at the critters hunted around the ship. "With a grace of a... turtle?" He chuckles, and reaches for his waterskin.
Ramada makes his way down into the bilges as ordered, though he does grumble about another shift belowdecks when he judges the officers out of earshot.
The fish-like physician's mood improves marginally after a day's work waist-deep in bilge water - the former swamp-dweller doesn't mind the damp, and the repetitive work lets his mind wander. Unfortunately, while he does get some ideas for his unnatural experiments, fairly little water is actually pumped from the bilges.
Jaquelyn also chuckles at his comment. "I actually find turtles to be quite graceful, at least the ones in the water. On land, not so much." She looks the other direction, out at the open waves. "If it weren't for the cruelty of the captain, I would be thrilled to be sailing on a ship. Maybe that is a problem we can solve, though not yet."
JACQUES
With Jacques' aid, Kroop catches plenty of the bale of turtles, waxing poetic about the ways he's heard folk prepare the creatures. Though, those crew that are within ear shot will mutter about how Kroop only knows how to make fish stew and even that isn't that spectacular, but Harrigan liked it so it was a constant.
RAMADA
Being down in the bowels of the ship, Ramada's lack luster work isn't noticed by Plugg, but Fipps - who was tasked down there as well - does.
"Fishface! Pick up the pace, eh?"
LILY
"Aye, it's something like that." Said Jack as they scraped the holystones across the deck. "Bones, though, not wood. My pa was an ivory carver, and I apprenticed under him till I was ... assigned to this oh-so-fine vessel. This manual labor isn't good for my hands. This work dulls the finer control I need for detail. Don't dare complain though. I received Scourge's "corrective treatment" the first and last time I tried to negotiate."
"Oh, I only saw them lumbering on land. Just surprised by their speed in water, is all." Aamu sighs. "Judging a fish by its ability to climb a tree, I guess. That's on me."
There is a pause in the air as Aamu considers the issue of the current officers' lodge. "That could mean disposing of at least part of the crew. Syl Lonegan seems quite loyal, and I assume she is not alone."
"Unfortunately I agree with you." Jacquelyn sighs and leans over the edge of the crows nest. "In a perfect world, there are only three people who need off the ship, Harrigan, Plugg, and Scourge. But I doubt everyone in the crew will let those three go without a fight. Many will, but not all."
Lily frowns, "Its worth somethin' though. Coulda had ye sell some o' the pieces ye make fer lighter work. Expect to be on the receivin' end o' a cat-o-nine-tails after today. Doubt they'd just put me ashore and be done with me."
Once enough turtles had been caught, the Wormwood turns west-northwest to keep land just out of sight once more. Before turtle stew is served, Lily's prediction comes true.
Scourge's grin is feral as he leads Maheem, Syl, and Narwhal to strip any armor and weapons from Lily and hold her face first against the central mast.
"Clearly I've been perceived as lenient of late." Plugg addresses the crew as Scourge uncoils his whip. "Since some of you ain't putting in the work here and there, I'm going to have to crack the whip and ensure quality service aboard this vessel."
Lashed to the mast, Lily will receive three strikes from Scourge's whip . While not life threatening, the viciousness of Scourge's punishment nearly knocks Lily out. Her gear is tossed at her feet after Lily's untied from the mast, and as the officers retire to the captain's cabin and the three perpetrators disperse, Sandra and Jape will rush to the half-orc's side, the woman cast a healing channel into Lily with a prayer to Besmara while the mute half-orc looks impressed at Lily's pain tolerance.
"Bastard looked like he enjoyed that too much." Sandra's teeth clenched as she tended to Lily.
As Lily regains her footing, Jacques and Kroop emerge from below decks with bowls and a large pot of salty turtle stew.
When Jacques learns what Scourge and Plugg did to Lily while he was dishing up stew with Kroop, he is spitting mad. He spends all of their dinner glaring at Maheem, Syl, and Narwhal. If looks could kill, he would be guilty of homicide many times over. "There will be a reckoning," he mutters darkly to Lily and the others. "Mark my words. The architects of this will suffer the same but tenfold."
Lily nods grimly and silently as they come for her. She doesn’t resist, knowing full well that she hasn’t been performing to the best of her abilities. As she passes out a voice in her mind speaks to her, pathetic.
When Sandra heals her wounds Lily almost smiles, ”Thank ye. Didn’t know that her blessin’s could touch me, marked as I am. How’s that work?”
When Jacques threatens life and limb on her behalf she does get a satisfied grin, ”Both o’ us, all o’ us,” gesturing to those loyal people present, ”we’ll put Scourge and Plugg down. But when the time is right, matey, I swear it on the Dark Lord’s and the Black Lady’s name.”
Izkaen scans the deck, looking for anyone particularly interesting or otherwise potentially useful to ally with. Spying the scarred half-elf , he approaches. "Evening. Are things always this... sedate?" He asks, choosing his words carefully. "Some internal issues, of course, are normal, but I've not seen any signs of other ships out here."
IZKAEN
"The water's a big place, knife ears." Medlar quips. "Unless you've been tracking someone specifically, you can float from one end of the Fever Sea to the other and never see another sail. Not that that's a good thing. Physical doldrums can draw out the need for violence in this crew."
DAY 6
With the first "blood" properly drawn between the pressganged crew and the officers, the next day feels taut with bitterness. Tasks are assigned and work is performed with a crisper edge to it, no one wanting to endure the same punishment Lily took. However, the sheer height of Lily's tolerance for punishment has left an impact on the crew, especially those already on the PCs' side or swayed their direction.
That night after dinner, Plugg brings out a hulking brute of a man with patches of tar and dirty feathers across his shoulders and down his arms and lower legs. An iron ring goes round his neck, a thick leather cord leading from it to Plugg's hand.
"Since the crew's behaved so well, I've decided to offer a bit of a treat for you all! To those who don't know, this here simpleminded buffoon is our resident monster, Owlbear Hartshorn."
The man raises a hand in an awkward wave. "OwLbEeR hArTsOrt!" He bellows out with an earnest smile, earning a raucous wave of laughter from the crew.
"If anyone thinks that they can take him in a fair fight - bare knuckles, no magicks - they can be rewarded with extra rations and this here purse of one hundred gold!" Plugg raises the purse and jingles it dramatically. "Surely some of us have some steam to let off, eh?" The last remark is aimed at the pressganged faction.
Jaquelyn grimaces, shaking her head slightly. As cruel as this is, that money could be useful. Not to mention a show of strength could convince crew on the fence. But no chance I can survive any time against him.
She looks towards the stronger members of the party, waiting to see if any of them respond to the challenge.
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Lily steps forward cracking her knuckles as she does so, ”Aye. Just Owlbear here against me?”
Thanks to Sandra’s channeling of Besmara’s power and a good night’s sleep, she felt great. A prayer escaped her lips, ”The Dark Lord protects and The Black Lady puts the wind in me sails.”
Izkaen snorts. "Aye. That much's becoming clearer every day I'm here." He casts a brief glance over the half-elf's own ears, but doesn't make mention of them, trusting his monochromatic eyes to keep her from noticing that particular bit of discourtesy. "We'll see what comes. In time, I'm sure we'll come across some target worth taking." Of course, 'worth' is a relative term. Hopefully it's not an innocent merchant ship. He's not quite sure how he'd handle that.
Izkaen arches an eyebrow at the challenge, and then frowns slightly at the sight of the man that Plug calls "Owlbear." Another illustration of the cruelty of this crew. He muses silently. And no one worried about him, it seems. Or I'm just bad at reading moods.
He looks at his fellow press-ganged folk. Lily or Aamu both fought barehanded... Though in the former's case, he's not sure she'd be able to go without magic.
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Aamu gives the mountain of a man a measuring look. He looks at the hesitation around him. "Let me." Before Lily knows it, the vanara has a hand on her shoulde and is pushing her back as he passes. "Hello there, Mister Hartshorn. I assume this is not to the death?" He asks as he looks at Hartshorn, but the question is clearly meant for Plugg. "Or would there be one less old fool on this ship after we're done?"
"nOt tO dEaTh!" Hartshorn parroted back, balling his fists and baring his teeth, pieces of crustatean packed between those teeth that remained.
"Of course not to the death." Plugg rolled his eyes as wagers were made in the peripheral. "We only execute crew that's proven criminal or traitor. Recall the Magpie we keelhauled a few days ago?"
The vanara nods. "All right, then. Good luck to both of us." He offers a handshake and takes a few steps back to get into a starting position. He moves one of his feet back slightly for balance and lifts his heel. He waits for the starting "whistle", and charges in a single flowing motion to the right, making sure to stay on Hartshorn's left side.
Aamu puts a little too much effort into the evading motion and overextends the attempted elbow to Owlbear's ribs. A glancing hit.
Reaching round 7, Plugg, seeing the agility of Aamu to avoid Hartshorn's blows, snarls and tosses a club to the giant man. "Damn you, you buffoon! Hit the damn monkey!"
By instinct Owlbear picks up the club, too slow to catch it mid air, and continues to swing at Aamu. However, the elder vanara still dodges the blows while dealing his own. Two rounds later, Owlbear bears several growing bruises and is favoring his left side even more. Dropping the club, he falls to his knees and covers his face, weeping and turning his back to Aamu.
The crew begins to groan and disperse, while Plugg uncoils his cat-o-nine and advances to striking distance of Hartshorn. "I didn't tell ye to stop, brute! It's till you drop that monkey to the deck, lights out!"
Seeing Owlbear's state, Aamu stands between the kneeling man and Plugg, holding open palms at his chest level to defuse. "I believe we're done here, sir. Mister Hartshorn seems to have yielded. We're both tired, bruised, and ripe to see the doctor." If Plugg attempts to go around, Aamu will keep repositioning to shield the other combatant from the officer's ire. "I also believe there was talk of coin.", he adds with a careful tone.
With Aamu standing in front of Plugg, and the cowering Owlbear, Jaquelyn will cautiously approach, hands outstretched, one eye wearily on Plugg. She will kick the club away from Owlbear and kneel next to him. In a quiet voice, she will say: "You did good Owlbear. Can you stand?
If Owlbear lets her, she will help him to his feet, wanting to take him to Ramada but knowing she needs to wait and see what reaction Plugg has first.
Jacques will grab the club from where Jacquelyn kicks it. He is about to hold it aloft and verbally taunt Owlbear, but decides it is unnecessary when he sees the large man begin to cry.
Plugg cracks his cat in a show of bitterness but he stands down, tossing the coin at Aamu's feet before storming off to his quarters. Scourge, Aretta, Fipps, Maheem, Syl, and Narwhal also retire early.
Hartshorn looks up at Jacquelyn with big watery eyes, nearly falling into her arms as she seems to comfort him. "CaN sTanD." He nods and rises to nearly full height, eclipsing the undine and following her to Ramada's.
The jaundiced half-orc Jape lingers, impressed at the graying vanara's skill in reducing the tarred and feathered hulk to blubbering pieces with such ease. He will salute Aamu and Lily before also disappearing below decks.
Lily regards Aamu with respect, "Ye know how to fight. Good. Shoulda wagered on ya."
Lily gets Aamu some water, "Wish we had somethin' better than grog. Would toast yer win."
Jacques chuckles. "With that purse, you could probably buy something more appropriate for us to toast you with. Congratulations! I imagine that no longer will the epithet 'monkey' be considered an insult on this ship."
Jaquelyn will stay to assist Ramada if she is able, and only once Owlbear is taken care of will she gently pat the giant's shoulder and exit. Finding Aamu she will congratulate him on his win. "Good job and well fought. And I appreciate you not beating the man more than you had to. I don't think he realizes it, but I feel he is as much a prisoner on this ship as we are."
Aamu picks up the bag hesitantly, hanging it on his belt. He chuckles at Jacques' comment."Was it ever?" The contents of the bag jingle a bit as he pats it. "Thanks for the praise, everyone. I'm sure you would do just as well." He rubs his limbs. "I'm aching a bit. Something to wash down the pain would be nice, indeed." He looks at Owlbear. "Later. Let's get the big man to Ramada and then buy some liquid courage?"
He helps Jacquelyn with the man. "For what it's worth, Mister Hartshorn, I was this close to soling my pants." He almost pinches his fingers together and chuckles, trying to elevate Owlbear's mood, even if only a little bit. "Let's get you to a doctor and I then... Well, drinks after a fight? What do you say? Plugg's treat." He pats the bag on his belt again.
Izkaen watches the brief "fight" with interest. Impressive movements. Aamu is more agile than I gave him credit for. He glances at the poor fool on the other side of the battle. Clumsy, but strong. Worryingly so, if I were to face him even with weapons in hand.
He offers Aamu a brief smile at the end. "Restraint and skill?" He asks the vanara in a low voice. "I'm beginning to suspect that you're not suited to the piratical life at all." There's a definite note of praise to his voice, mitigating any insult that the comment may have given.
"PlUg's TrEaT!" Hartshorn's eyes light up at Plugg's name despite the cruelty nearly loosed upon him by the man.
Cut-Throat is more than willing to let you pay for a cask of unwatered-down rum, which the crew gleefully shoves mugs and cups into range for a share. Cheers "To the monkey!" and jaunty music from Rosie turn the night into a lighthearted one. Even the Owlbear clumsily jumps about, delighting the crew - though some of them are clearly laughing at the hulking man.
Ramada helps Aamu and Jacquelyn get the battered man belowdecks - fetching his medical bag, he gets to work, applying salve to the man's bruises. As he works, his bulging eyes roam over the man's injuries. "Quite... hmm... well-placed injuries - you're rather skilled with those fists, Herr Madha." The fish-like physician nods approvingly, not taking his gaze off his patient as his tongue snakes up to moisten one eye. "You've hit most of the... hmm... main nerve clusters along this side - you would, I think, have made an excellent anatomist, in another life." Turning his attention back to the injured 'Owlbear,' he continues applying the medicine. "Here - this should... hmm... numb the worst of it."
Finishing, he grins, patting the man's uninjured shoulder. "Now, we get back out there and let the rum... hmm... finish the job, yes?"
Back on deck, the doctor joins in the merriment, grabbing a mug of ale and joining the rest of the press-ganged sailors. "I've been on... hmm... many ships in my time, and we've often had cause to celebrate, but this in particular reminds me of home. Not the Feast of the Dreamer, the... hmm... peasant festivals, on mid-summer's day or the coming of the great rains. I can't quite describe it - it's... hmm... something intangible." He grins, nudging Jacquelyn in the ribs with a bony elbow. "My father Carol used to make an extra batch of his... hmm... tsuika before the festivals - those were the kind of nights you don't recall the following morning!"
Jaquelyn, realizing she had been focusing on the ill thoughts of their imprisonment, forces a smile after Ramada's comment. She looks over the crew being merry, choosing for the moment to ignore those laughing at Owlbear. This is nice. Mostly.
Her grin turns genuine as she looks to Ramada. "I've had a few of those nights, and they are lovely. Here's to more in the future yes?"
"If you can stomach it." Aamu, despite actually funding the merryment from the winning money, does not seem to be overly indulgent. Instead, he takes small sips, attempting to keep his head straight. He seems to be reaching for the pouch from Plugg every few minutes. "I might as well have a target on my back.", he confesses to the table. "And I have no use for the coin, anyway. Perhaps I should share. Morale would probably improve. Probably."