Ambrose "Fishguts" Kroop __'s page

"See ya." Ambrose calls and then mumbles "Now I have to cook myself again."

"You do you. I'll try it once you're done." Fishguts tells and opens a bottle of cheap wine.

"Pepper is there, nu juice, and what is soy sauce?" It is a rethorical question. Fishguts makesg himself comfortable in his chair with a bottle.

"Rice? I ordered some barrels of grain. Didn't check which ones they delivered."

For the fun of it, lets assume you find everything that would be easily aquired in a caribean climate and wouldn't spoil earlier than two weeks.

"Mr. Fishguts? You really think that's my name? That's an insult the crew came up with, because they don't like my cooking. So if you insist on being formal, I'm Mr. Kroop. Or call me Ambrose."

"Soup is easy. One big pot, everything in, done. If you want to put in more work, be my guest."

It is still the same day and the meal with the fish will be next day.

"I don't care. Whatever you like."

"Wow, that is a nice fish." Fishguts calls out. He takes over the monstrum and hangs it on a beam with a hook. With a few cuts he opens the fish and removes the innards. After a shower with a bucket of saltwater is the fish is clean and ready to cook.

"What do you say? Fishsoup?"

"At least it is one fish. I don't do fishing. The crew gets to do that. But so far no one was really good at it. Guess it will be a thin fish soup?"

"Well, that is not good. If we got no fish for tomorrow, you will lose your cooking job privilege and become a swab." Fishguts tells and hands her another piece of rotten fish as bait.

After lunch there is some more work to do. Fishguts tells Jewel "You go and catch some fish for tomorrow." and hands her a fishing rod.

That is survival.

"You did well!" Fishguts commends Jewel and pats her back.

Fishguts looks over the ingredients Jewel brought. "Beans? Okay. But you have to cook those hard ones first." Then he takes his bottle of cheap wine, sits in the corner and watches Jewel work. Taking a sip here and a sip there, he finally dozes off and starts snoring.

"You saw rats down there? Good to know. If they are getting bold again it's time to send some guys to catch them."

"I don't care what we fill it with. But only grain and potatoes with maybe some vegetables for the crew. We can throw in a piece of meat for the taste, but only the officers get to eat the meat in the end."

"Do I look like a great chef?" Fishguts asks rhetorically. "You fetch something from the lower deck, throw it into this large pot and cook it until everything in it is dead. If you manage to make it taste only half bad, you're left alone. If it is horrible you may be keel hauled."

"If you can cook yourself, better for me. If not I can tell you each step what to do."

Fishguts picks up a wine bottle and takes a swig.

Following the smell leads into the right area.

"That would be me." a guy tells, leaning back to look out of the 'kitchen' to see who's asking. "Oh, he sent the witch, hehe."

"So, what are we cooking today?"

"Cut it into steaks and grill it."

Fishguts pulls out the shark with the help of some others. Finally it hangs from a boom. "That'll be a fine meal."

"That be a good meal." Fishguts tells. "Here take the rope and knot it at the tail. ye can help me gutting that."

Fishguts pours the stinking stuff overboard.

Fishguts fetches the stew from yesterday made from the remaining fishes from last week. "Want me to pour it into the sea?"

"Yesterday's fish stew?" Fishguts replies.

"Something large and meaty." Fishguts replies.

Fishguts comes on deck. "Ah'm sick ta cook that landlubber stuff. Trytton, ya still have ta bring me a fish fer a week."

Walking to the rail he leans on it and watches the starting construction on The Rock. "Captain? Are ye getting ta be a Free Captain? Might'a made enuff of a name fer that."

"Hey!" the complaint comes from far behind on the Kraken.

Fishguts brought a two layer wedding cake to the celebration and hands over the cutlass to cut the cake to the groom "Here, you're first."

As the ship approaches the Island Fishguts comes on deck. He leans on the rail and revels in memories of the past. Finally he turns to the officers "So how ye going ta do that. Brute force, sneak in, or laying the lady of the house?"

Fishguts adds his 2 cents worth to the discussion "Ye have ta build some reputation as pirates besides earning the pay for the crew. Bringing up fat merchants is good. But be careful fat merchants have guards. Are ye up to that yet? Ye still missing the men to man the ship!"

He then cuts a ham off one of the boars and puts it on the plate of Noonan. "Tis a good thing ye're getting more than the ration now, aye?"

"Ye know what? Everything ye catch is good. It's fresh. But I need some spices and maybe some pigs. What a waste ta throw them into the sea for the sharks." He looks through his provisions. "It's not gettign better than grilled fish fer now."

Fishguts looks confused "It's ships bisquits, as always. Ye won't find me up that early to cook somethin'. But ye can talk ta our new Quatermaster to buy somethin' ta make better ship bisquits."

Eager to help this party Ambrose makes some grog. He waters down some rum and adds sugar to it to create something drinkable out of this liquid poison.
No fort saves for that one ;)

As he sees how Noonan enjoys the meal and that he still looks hungry Ambrose gives him another helping. "Sour times are over lad. No need ta go ta bed hungry."

"Leave me that fine chap here ta help with the cooking" Fishguts replies patting Trytton on his back "and stock our provisions with the good stuff. And not that rotten hogwash Harrigan bought. That cheap penny pincher."

"Ye know, I was a chef at the Lobster’s Armor, one of Port Peril’s most popular and expensive restaurants. But fish three days dead makes no good meal no matter what."

Profession(Cook): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25
Ambrose serves grilled fish made from the fish Trytton caught over the day with a side of sauteed vegetables. One could get the idea Fishguts actually knows what he is doing.

Ambrose Kroop is sober for a change and seems to be in a rather good mood. Through the galley, captains cabin and middle deck wafts the smell of rather tasty food.

Fishguts turns around and goes back to the Galley. "That is bad. This will have no good end."

Fishguts hear the commotion and the screams and comes out of the galley walking up the stairs. Ending up on the stairs next to Sandara he asks "What the heck is goin' on here?"

"Ye do that. I start cooking me fine stew." Fishguts replies.

Fishguts comes and pats Trytton on the back. "I'll be on that ship too."

Fishguts already waits on deck. "What tookst ye so long. I need t' get done wi' th' cookin' before Captain`s Dinner. Hurry now." He takes all the crabs and the reefclaws and disapears in the galley, calling back "Trytton, ye come and help me."

"Before ye pull in the jolly. The captain wants crabs for dinner and we're passing a reef. Send them collecting I need two dozen crabs." Fishguts calls from the deck. "I'll put the crab pots here."

The crab pots are some containers that are strong enough to withstand the claws of the crabs.

"Yer beloved fish stew is ready. Come 'ere and get some." Fishguts calls them.

"Get ta hell outta ma kitchen!" Fishguts shouts while threatenin Noonan with a butchers cleaver.

After telling some more stories of his former life where he were a famous cook in Prot Peril and the fastest eater in the whole Shackles he nods off, snoring loudly. After an hour or two he starts waking up noisily again but is in no condition to accomplish anything.

Roll to influence please if you want to try.

Fishguts has had enough rum to not care and tells "I lost ma life in a bet to the Captain." He takes another swig from the mug. "Why don't YE leave?" he chuckles.

"I don't care. Grok has more for sure." Fishguts replies.

"Yeah. Fill it but not with that s+@@. Get a good bottle from that cupboard!" Fishguts demands. Checking in the cupboard you find two bottles of fine wine that is for the officers only.

"Mostly he boasts what he's doin' with ma chicken." Fishguts laughs.

"That lad, is none of yer business. But have ye noticed ma bird here. Ye know sometimes he talks ta me. This cock is better than a parrot." He pats the bird sitting on his shoulder.

Fishguts sits down with with Trytton and a mug of rum. He tells how miserable hsi life is and that it's only bearable when drunk. And he complains about the ship. "It’s poison, this ship, but don’t let anyone hear you say it aloud. The hull listens, see, and the cap’n hears it all. Poison the Wormwood is, though, rotten to the core. You’ll not meet a more nasty, sour piece of work than Cap’n Harrigan in all your days at sea, and his crew’s the same, ’specially the first mate, Mr. Plugg. Vicious little sod, he is. He’d take his own mother’s liver to the butcher to make pies with, he would. But they leave me alone, mostly. They know I can’t ’arm ’em." He furhter talks and drinks himself into a stupor.

"Get lost." Fishguts snarls at Noonan.