What in bloody hell is goin' on?
Ned springs to action, getting on his feet and loosening his sword in its scabbard.
Search Posts
Ned stumbles on the lower deck, feeling outright miserable. Think my luck be runnin' out. Best not to try it. He collapses onto his hammock, next to Jasmine. How much of a idiot did ah make meself up their? Damned rum just took over, for the most part I had no idea what was comin' outta mah mouth.
Ain't that right, miss Grok?
Ned walks over to the common area, smiling at the gathered pirates entertaining themselves. That smell of rum, piss and wet dog was more of a home to him than any other. He grabs a mug of grog, sits near the halfling woman and kindly asks: Rosie love, did I ever get around to tellin' ya how I got on that flimsy plank you fellas rescued me from? 'Tis a funny story, to be true. Receiving her response, the priest smiles and takes a gulp of the foul-tasting rum. He sets the mug aside for now and takes a good lungful of air. T'was a clear night in Port Peril when I joined the Sea B@~!*'s crew. The captain was a former whore by the name of Jamie Bloodwidow, and we sailed for the north and fat merchant ships. The gods laughed at us, for they held their breath and the winds just stopped dead on their tracks. Then I met her cabin boy, a skinny fella called Japper, as he grabbed me by the shirt and said "Thank the lords you a pretty one. The cap'n's wearing me thin!". Ya see, that happens sometimes when a woman goes out to sea for too long, she gets the desires of men, and it's all a swampy inferno down'ere. He goes on to tell of the many ways in which he dodged her advances, including at least one jump to sea. But eventually there was no room left for dodge and the excuses had worn out. As he was tied up to a bed, though, in the black of the night a cry was heard. The slaver galley Hellbent approached, its slave-driven oars furiously diving as it sailed for the kill. Ned was released and given his weapon for the ensuing fight, which was only marginally better than facing the fanged monster down the captain's pants.
Ned smiles at Jasmine's suggestions. Be thinkin' that I should use up this newfound attention an' tell my tale. Sure some folk be itchin' their pants to know how I got here.
Ned winks to the party before getting his clothes and gear. He quickly counts coins and separates a few left and right. The lucky man takes Jasmine's hands gently, depositing a handkerchief with 25 gold coins inside. Tanks for believin', pretty lass. As I see ah won't be needin' that much coin, ya seem that needs it more than meself. As the party gets inside, he slips another 25 gold coins into Seijiro's hand. Ya tired him up, mate, made it easier for me. Ya should have ya share. Finally, the pirate tries approaching Amerdan. You an' me haven't seen eye to eye yet, matey. But ya look like a mity fine young sailor. But if ya aim to survive this current predicament, ya better start makin' friends. Hope this coin can help ya wit it.
Ned smiles, the blood in his mouth responding the question. The fact he's sweaty and shirtless could factor on that, too. At least let's get inside. It's getttin' chilly up hear.
Ned nods respectfully to the cowering giant as he takes the gold sack. Got a couple'a coins heading yar way if ya can do tha same wit me, pretty lady. He kneels next to Seijiro, and offers his hand for the boy to get up. Are yaright there, boy? Let's take the sting of that punch with a nice bottle'o'rum, shall we?
Ned looks uncertain at the man. 'Tis a trick? Doesn't look like it. I believe the result here is clear, mateys. Your man forfeits.
oh nice :)
That's sad, I had high hopes for this group :(
I think we lost our GM to el Diablo :(
So Alistair will only speak either whispering or shouting?
This is a character I made for a short-lived S&S campaign here on the forums. The campaign got only a few days after the beginning, though. 1.What set of circumstances found you in Port Peril at a tavern having a lively drink anyway?: Any intelligent cap'n needs a priest on-board, to bless his men, heal wounds and whatnot. I haven't seen one of those though, but I can improvise. 2.Are you the type who struggles against his chains as they are being put on or waits for an opportune moment to murder the jailer?: Even in the worst storm the waves part sometime somewhere. It's just a matter at finding that exact moment and spot. 3.How do you see your character developing mechanically? Story wise?:
4.Be ye a dirty scoundrel who would sell his mothers soul fer a farthing and a pint o' rum or be ye some heroic type who be thinking himself better 'n 'is fellow black hearted bastard?: Lady Bes doesn't care for the hows or whys, she cares only for the chase and the battle! As long as me name is shouted as a curse by sailors and as climax to whores everywhere down the coast I care not a fig for the acts that brought it.
5.THAR BE VOIKINGS OFF THE STARBOARD BOWWW!!! What do you do? Button your pants and buckle your swords, you dirty scallywags! Sailors will shout your names and ladies will wet their pants when they hear o' this battle! Queen Bes is watchin', make the lady proud!, Ned shouts as he draws his blade and joins the fray.
Sweat running down his brow and stinging his eyes, Ned grits his teeth in anger. The giant only has to land one single hit and he's out, maybe for good. Dodging each blow at the last second is starting to take its toll on the poor pirate. DAMNIT, JUST FALL DOWN ALREADY!
Ned whispers almost to himself, hoping that special someone to hear his prayers. You didn't save me from the wreck and pluck me outta water for nothin', Bes. You're not givin' me this death so soon. He feints left and dodges right, planting a punch in the giant's ribs.
Ned's eyes widen with surprise at this obvious betrayal. I should have expected it, damnit Ned! The pirate drops his arms from the boxing defensive posture, seeing that blocking a wodden bat's blow will break his arm. He instead positions his arms low to the side for balance, hoping to dodge any blows.
I guess we'll have to agree to disagree, big fella! Ned begins to breathe heavily as the effort to circle this large opponent's reach starts to take its toll on the castaway.
Oh shi- Seeing his enemy turned too fast, Ned throws only a light punch, getting his fists up so he defend himself from the blow.
Ned keeps dodging and ducking to his opponent's left, trying to avoid his attention and dodge his blows. Out of sight, out of mind.
Ned brings his hands up carefully analyzing his opponent's movements and trying to ready a dodge. Make that five gold, love! Anticipating the punch, he ducks to his right, approaching the enemy by its left side.
Ned looks with eyes wide open at Seijiro on the ground, blood trickling from his mouth. He looks sideways at Jasmine and whispers. We could sure use that money. He then approaches Sandara and asks: Can you get me up and running for tomorrow's activities if that - points at Seijiro - happens to me? If she agrees, he takes off his shirt and hat, asking Jasmine to hold them. He then procceeds to pray for his life.
Ned approaches the giant, stretching his arms and preparing for the bout. I'll give ya your show, mate.
Ned takes one look at Sandara and whispers: That boy will sure need a hand after this.
I can say a few blessings to ya Seijiro good lad. You look like ya gunna need'em.
One hundred gold, you say?, Ned asks, as he takes a quick understanding look at Jasmine and the others.
Ned gasps from the seawater, smiling wearily all the while. For the sake of honesty, I was unconscious until you charmed me back to life, you sea devil. Watching the conversation between Ned and Jasmine obviously takes a toll on the poor man. Well, since we have made some enemies on board, I can always watch over you two to make sure no one slices your throats in your sleep. You gals do not worry, I'm be your lookout.
Ned would like the holy water and the buckler if nobody minds. I think he still has his studded leather armor.
Agree with Jasmine. We could sell the things no one will use or even trade them with Grok for some other things.
Still groggy from the pain, Ned takes a few seconds to gain his bearings. Besmara, is that you? Have you come to recruit me to crew the Seawraith? He then procceeds to try and kiss the pretty lady who woke him up, not entirely hallucinating.
You're right Seijiro. We should scour this place for somethin' useful to our current situation. Let the Lady of the Water shine a light on ya to make your job easier.
Looks like it's fried rat for dinner!, Ned says as he kicks one of the dead animals.
Ned smiles at Jasmine's rage. Anger can be a powerful motivator. That may be useful in the future. Make way filthy rats! Burn this trash fast and we may have a time to bathe before dinner!
Ned shouts, moving towards the rats: Come on, buccaneers, they're nothin' but bilge rats! Besmara won't take kindly on losing good sea-men to filthy rats! She protects those she deems worthy for they may sail and plunder and bring glory to her name on the morrow!
Ned looks curiously at the woman that ran straight up to a big bunch of filthy rats. Are ya that desperate to get a lovebite, Jasmine?
I can make one suggestion I think speeds up combat somewhat without consequences. When a combat is gonna start, the DM can roll all the PCs Iniatiatives in one single post, writing down the Initiative list just below that. That way everyone knows that combat has started and when they're acting.
Aren't ya already dazzling enough, love?, Ned japes as he maneuvers around the rats.
Godsdamned bilge rats!
Ned approaches the hatch and tries opening it.
Err, gimme a lil help down 'ere, mate. It's a little stuck. Also, I think I pulled a muscle, must be still weak for all the swimmin' yesterday. Ned then moves aside to let Seijiro or Amerdan open the hatch. Besmara watch over us, don't let us poor sods get wasted on this menial task, for tomorrow may bring a sail on the horizon and plunder to our hold.
Whaddya talkin' ' bout mate? It's a fun bonding experience, we're sure to emerge humbler and with a hardened character. Though prolly as dirty as Master Scourge's teeth and stinkier than his bottoms. Plus, we get to steal stares at the elf's female charms while we're at it. What's not ta like?
Ned reciprocates Seijiro with a smile and a clap in the back. They keep throwing the worst jobs at us tryin' to test us and prove we're just idiot landlubbers. But you don't seem like one, you have the stink of a sea dog on ya jus' like meself. Whaddya say we get down there and prove'em wrong, huh?
Ned stands on deck most of the day, throwing nets and catching a few fish. The simple work feels almost familiar, and he remembers fondly the many months spent on fishing ship when he was young. He takes a full net to the kitchens, where he boils water and cooks them. The choicest fish go to the captain and his officers, cooked and presented with orange slices and potatos. He keeps one choice herring to himself, and the rest of the fish he cooks with flour and other spices into a thick broth. During lunch he smuggles choice cuts of the lemony herring to Jasmine, Sandara, Seijiro and Amerdan. Aye, sir! Checkin' it out! He leaves a high pile of dishes for Kroop to clean out, washes his hands and goes to find the others. To Jasmine he says: Move ya pretty ass, elf! Them brilliant minds thought of a new torture for us down at the binges! Seijiro: Cheer up mate! I got ya back, remember? You took me outta water last night, saved me worthless life! Godsbedamned if I'm not gonna pay that back! Amerdan:They're callin' for ya mate. We gotta get down in the binges and check for sumthin'.
Ned walks to the larder, complaining to himself. I'd be of much better use rigging sails then cookin'. Mah cookin' is as liable to poison everyone as it's to feed'em. When they've spent a night hurdled on the poop deck they'll learn their lesson.
Ned walks to the deck, trying to think up some ways to avoid the inevitable. Best I can do is prove meself valuable somehow. That won't prevent the lashes but at least they will think twice before killin' me. I hope.
Ned goes walking along, his hands up in the air as he demonstrates he's not a threat. I deserved that. Bloody idiot mouth, this not the first time you get me in a situation like this.
Poor little Ned is gonna take quite a beating!
Seeing double for a second, Ned summons up all his willpower to hold whatever still holds in his stomach. Well, good mornin' right back at 'ya, handsome. Oh sorry, handsome's not the word at all. A half-second later he gathers his bearings and regrets the words that came out of his mouth.
Ned turns into his hammock, saying a few words to the back of the elf's head. Heh, you strike out too, right? What's the problem, shark bit his worm out? With all due respect, you're five different kinds of pretty ahead from anything on this boat. If a woman like you lean'd on me like that I wouldn't be wastin' time tradin' words with a smelly scoundrel. Then he turns sideways, closing his eye for the night.
Didn't mean to do that. I was merely making small talk as I thought the DM looked busy and we could be waiting on the other players. I do that a lot. Feel free to cut the conversation short anytime and fast forward to the next scene.
The night almost over, Ned walks to the crew's quarters. Tough crowd, huh? Half are 'ganged 'lubbers that want ta kill the crew in their sleep and the rest are heartless filthy bastards likely to do the same to the other half if only they could get away with it., he comments to the elf as he hoists his hammock to her side.
Lucky Ned spends a couple hours talking to the crew, telling stories about the Besmara's Smile, a pirate ship that wandered the southern seas, flying false flags to lure slaver ships. He tells about the time he flew a chelaxian flag and even had his crew wearing those high-collared officer uniforms the tax collectors! So then his first mate comes walkin' outta quarters, one of those ridiculous bucket-like iron helms in his head. Only his head ain't in the right place, so he can't see shit. 'Baoss, I can't see shit', he says, right before walkin' headfirst into the mast. Then the whole crew burst out laughin', incluind Smiling Jack himself. Them slavers then think 'now that's weird' so one of 'em says: 'The horn goes in the back, sir!' and the first mate immediately replies with a muffled voice, 'That's wat ya mama said!' Pause for laughter. Needless to say a fearsome fight ensues, the most of which the first mate spends blunderin' about horning people to death!
|