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It hasn't been updated since 2015, but perhaps this might be of interest to ye.
An exasperated sigh from somewhere in the vicinity of Port Peril. "Just had to go 'n hide under a bleedin' mountain...couldn't be bothered t'think of us sea-farin' folk who have t'leave their ships behing and trudge ashore t'go shoot a bastar...er...fellow or three..."
The balding man of mixed Varisian and Sargavan heritage takes a long pull from his mug of rum before hooking it on his baldric, as he tosses five envelopes onto the map table of his cabin, each letter sealed with a noble crest depicting a Pegasus in flight. "Arr and welcome to ye, young Pathfinders - welcome aboard Th' Ardent Lady. We'll be touchin' Taldor's yonder shore in under a day, time enough for a briefin' and for you to see me quartermaster for any gear ye be needin' t'buy." Rubbing a hand over his balding pate he chuckles a bit before fishing a thin stiletto from one of his many pouches, tossing it on top of the letters. "These here be correspondence from one Remaio Alcasti, a Taldan who seems t'think that helpin' him wi'some history-gatherin' might be in th'society's best interests. Seein' as I was on me way t'Taldor anyways, th'lovely Lady Gloriana Morilla asked me to find a troupe o'novices like'n yourselves t'see it through. So! Here be th'letters. We'll make landfall in th'mornin', so ye can make introductions and such now, and decide how ye want to go about these things!"
Based on Book 6 of Skull and Shackles - there is a NPC who has 10 levels in this PrC: 1 - The HD are indeed d8 2 - The NPC has 6 Pirate Tricks, suggesting that the chart is correct. That said, since I'm looking at taking a few levels of this in PFS, I will recommend it for a campaign clarification there.
Ah don't trade! Ah take stuff! That's th' whole point o' bein' a pirate!ARRR!!! Ah dunno if ah like this. Ah signed on ta this Pathfinderin' thing ta go raidin' in tombs an' such, 'stead o' raidin' ships like ah used to. Guaril un'erstan's that. Ah dunno 'bout this legit tradin' stuff. Not really ma style.Cat leans in and whispers some advice to Green Beard. "It doesn't have to actually BE legitimate trading. You just need to convince the other guy that it's legitimate trading! I, for one, look forward to cooperating with some other entrepreneurs willing to think outside the box." "Aye mate, but y'need t'be able to offload yer cargo, ye can't jus' be plunderin' without end!" Followed by a long pause, and then, "...well, ye can, but then ye be turnin' everythin' over t'the Society's vaults, and ye get less of a profit." ----- All jokes aside, and just speaking for myself, losing the Sczarni faction is really the only faction change I'm sad about. The Grand Lodge is the perfect place for those who want to "just be Pathfinders" with little/no "extracurricular" odds and ends, but Sczarni were always for those who liked being a Pathfinder well and good, but also loved using it as a means to further their own personal gains and glories "on the side/sly". Still, what's good for the organization as a whole is what's most important.
"Arr matey, we be good at findin' ways around those pesky things called *air quotes* "rules"..." *Notices the Decemvirate hanging around* "Not that there be anything wrong with rules...just a mite bit of workin' th'corners, ye see..." "Either way, we Pathfinders, we be good at stickin' t'gether matey, so lay it on us!"
Yar-ar-har! Nothin' ta be seein' here, me fellow Pathfinders! Allow me, Cap'n Julius Ignatious John Patrick "Black" Ramsey of th' Ardent Lady and th'Sczarni step forward for a parley, and we'll surely find it's all been a simple misunderstandin! All ye need t'do is leave me wages from th'Venture Cap'ns with me quartermaster, in advance, aye, and I'll be makin' sure it'll be done! ()
Ramsey grins at Xan's words, especially the latter parts, lifting his hand again with two fingers touching his bushy eyebrow. "Aye Cap'n. May th'Lady bless ye for it!" When opportunity presents, he gets another handle on the rum and gives himself a generous pull from it, but quiets down a bit to let others share in the conversation, quietly muttering to himself, "bah, n'er had t'gift f'r tongues anyways." He does make a point to nod and grin at Meritaelin, both for his words, and his contribution to the rapidly diminishing supply of alcohol at that particular table...
He grins, one hand almost absentmindedly scratching the line where the open edge of his shirt and his tattoo meet. "Good shape, Varisian brigs, good design - cut t'water like a shark an'glide through! So, th'question be, Cap'n, if ye might be willin' ta give a fellow Pathfind'r ye just met a look-see on deck next time ye leave port? Won't lie, I plan t'abscond or 'acquire' me own ship someday, but until I build up me 'cred' more I'd never find me a crew, so I needs t'make a good name for me'self servin' w'good Cap'ns n'ships, under t'Black Lady's eye." Even though the bottle of rum is on the table between them, he picks it up and holds it out, offering it to her, waiting for her reaction.
Ramsey grins at the greeting (or was it the rum?) and grabs the nearest sturdy chair or box or other piece of floatsam to sit on nearby, bringing two fingers of his right hand to his bald pate as he faces Xan. "Cap'n, a pleasure. Glad t'find good salt blood in this den'o'cuthroats!" He grabs the rum and lifts it in a semi-toast to her before lifting it to his lips...but then pauses at the likely looks his statement may have drawn. "Good gentles, where I come from, that be high praise. Makes me feel right at home, it does!" Another toothy grin flashes for a brief instant before that bottle is upturned and a generous pull taken from its neck, before it's firmly *thunked* down again, followed by his sleeve wiping the bottle lip. "Ah, Cap'n, that be a taste for sore buds! Thankee kindly! So, The Stingray, fast ship I wager? How are ye fixed f'r crew? Last filthy barge I crewed wan't even worth th'grog!" He slides the bottle back, a little bit lighter than it was before.
"Damned eye blow'n fierce'r th'n usual this time o'year...damned Absalom pilots takin' their sweet time dock'n th'ships..." The man's booming voice, even as he mutters, heralds his arrival before he actually steps foot inside. His sun-kissed bald head poking into view first, the jolly-looking bearded man strides boldly inside, looking around with a broad grin - his golden tooth flashing briefly. He's dressed like he took the last ship to Absalom from the Shackles, right down to the edge of the "Jolly Roger" tattoo peeking out from the open part of his billowy white shirt. "Blessin's of th'Lady be upon ye all!" His arms sweep out to encompass everyone visible, before moving up to stroke his thick beard thoughtfully. "Now, here I was down th'other end o'the pier, makin' for me first shore-leave in weeks, but then me ears suddenly think they makes out the distinct sound of that preternaturally attractive word...Rum...comin' from this here direction. And so I come, as if called, I do." "Black" Ramsey's th'name, and wherever the lasses, rum, and wealth are, there be my games for certain. How be ye keepin' this fine day?" |
