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Mr Plugg is standing near the helm acting as a sort of liaison between the Captain and the crew. His stern looks and words keep men in some form of rank and file. Although, he seems to feel Lorelei's eyes on him, and suddenly looks directly at her. There is something terrible in that look. Something covetous and filled with dark promises.

Master Scourge is moving between the sailors, his whip lashing out and licking the knuckles and calves of any swab he thinks isn't moving fast enough. The stinging blows draw little to no blood, but seem to be more motivating than wild fire.

Picture of Waltus Proudstump

Waltus takes out several clay cups and pours a thin tea into each of them. The aroma is earthy and sweet.

Think nothing of the cloak. If I were dead then nothing but the mold would wear it. He grins. And I have no fear of goblins, fair woman, nor any danger in this swamp. I will stand with you if combat should erupt. It is a wardens job, you understand, and I take my job quite seriously.

You seem to remember the people of Sandpoint saying that no one had actually appointed Waltus Proudstump with the task of swamp warden, however, the halfling seems quite dedicated to the role nonetheless.

Waltus cooks up a thick broth of green tubbers and clams and serves the heroes lunch. While they eat he answers any questions they may have.

The halfling scratches the stubble on his chin and considers Dorvren's question. Not sure where that odd creature came from nor what its intent was. However, I doubt it had anything to do with the Licktoads. They aren't much for outsiders of any sort for there chief is as proud as a porcupine and twice as prickly!

Sheets of sea spray catch Captain Harrigan's twisted black hair as he heaves to and the Wormwood groans to respond to the brutal shift in direction. The sails bulge and the masts creak as the dark canvas sheets drink in the wind like mad men in an oasis.

Harrigan's voice roars out over the chaos, louder than even Scourge's whip or the low gravely threats of Mr Plugg.

Ye' bastards and whores grab a hook and blade and prepare yourself for battle! That ship, she carries gold, silk and finer things still, and for this she must be bled and bled again! Grab ye' hooks n' blades, you kings and queens of nothingness, and prepare to be made rich by your Captain's rage and your own damn boldness! Harrigan throws his head back and howls like a wolf just as a large and perilous wave crashes over the main deck. No man goes overboard and for this the sailors howl in response as they prepare grappling hooks, boarding pikes and pitted knives.

The pack is howling and it is clear what ship is the hunted. The speck in the distance begins to take shape and it does not appear quick enough to flee despite its best efforts.

****

Grok and several handpicked swabs begin handing out weapons. When she comes to the heroes she drops a crate down at their feet. Coin, jewelry and keepsakes have been taken, but their initial weapons are inside. There are also boarding axes, rusty daggers and a mean looking light mace included.

Ahhh, my sweet and soft swabs, take up your weapons and gather a line and hook. As greengills you will be the first to place boots on the enemy ship. Heh heh heh.. She slaps Malack hard on the face. Try not to get yourself killed, sailor, for my blood is high and hot after a battle and I may have need of you. Heh..

The howls continue, one after another, as the crew of Captain Barnabas Harrigan prepare for war.

And the heroes will be the ones to lead the charge.

My apologies on the post delay. I attended my sisters wedding and just got home. Expect some more JR tomorrow! =)

My apologies on the post delay. I attended my sisters wedding and just got home. Expect some more JR tomorrow! =)

Aye, disturbing is one way to put it. Some folk might call it downright horrifying. Waltus says, tossing the eggs out the front door and into the swamp. He then puts a kettle over the fire. That thing attacked me this morning. It looked like one of the local trackers but when I gave it a good look its skin crawled like a snake shedding. Proudstump shudders. It must have been....full. It's belly was large and it locked me in that pantry there then took my form when it heard you approach.

The old halfling smiles at Emerald, obviously taken with her friendly nature. The Licktoads have been stirred up lately by something, sure as sure. The goblins have been patrolling the swamps in number and seem to be looking for something. Bold as brass they are, and bitter as lemon weed. I'll take you to their camp if you need a guide. It's the least I can do.

Walrus shrugs out of his beautiful looking cloak. And one of you best take this. It will help you if you truly aim to stop the Licktoads.

Waltus gives the party his +1 cloak of resistance.

The shout goes out that a ship has been spotted on the horizon. Like a word on the wind the news briskly moves from one end of the Wormwood to the other and it doesn't take long for the door to Harrigan's quarters to open and the Captain come striding out.

The massive pirate Captain makes his way to the helm with a look of unsated hunger in his features. The booming roll of his voice begins to give orders to his officers and Scourge and Mr Plugg respond by tearing into the crew with whip and word.

Grok rolls over, pulling on her attire, obviously eager to take part in the pursuit. She listens as Malack gives his speech on 'second helpings' before rolling her eyes. You weren't that impressive.. She says with a toothy grin. But when the killin starts I may see that some good steel is in your hands. Heh heh heh.. She heads off to prepare the hold and to pass out weapons. So eager is she in the moment that she does not realize anything is missing..

Asmodia, Sjurd and Urkk peer at the ship on the horizon, still a great distance away, but they can tell that it is attempting to flee.

When Lorelei makes her way back to the deck from the kitchens she would spot the look that passes Captain Harrigan's face when she steps into the sun. The Captain is staring into the distance and his tongue glides along his upper teeth.

He likes it when they run.

Waltus Proudstump, still rather proud in his demeanor despite the days event, shrugs off the loose rope and nods to Engir and Dorvren who have freed him.

Aye, lucky I was that you come along as you did. The halfling says. Eggs begin to burn over the fire. Waltus walks over and takes the small pan away from the flames. Pity.. He mutters, looking the eggs over with regret.

He looks to the heroes. I am Waltus Proudstump, THE Waltus Proudstump, warden and snake-wrangler of this fine marsh. Might I ask what you are all doing so deep into the swamps? Not that I mind, of course. The rescue is most welcome, thank you.

Well...

Grok and Malack find a nice hidden place on the boat. Oceans move so to speak...

However, all decent folk are still rather close to the Quartermaster's vulnerable hold and their possessions are within reach. Some have already decided against the risky business of sneaking out their possessions, but time has been bought if minds have changed on the matter.

The bell tolls on deck to signal work. Sailors begin to shuffle to their respected positions and take up mop, bucket, line and canvas. Old Kroop lifts a red, drunken eye down in the kitchens but has not begun to cook the meal. Scourge and Plugg are in the Captain's Quarters and no one save the wind is watching the crew.

Something big is in the air. Something grand is on the horizon. And...there it is...just a speck on the endless blue line that taunts the eye...

Ship HOOO! Shouts the swab in the crow's nest. He bellows it out a second time, eager for the additional coin he will get for spotting the vessel first.

A ship in the distance.

Hunter or Prey?

Grok pins Malack to the wall and for several terrible moments her brute strength would keep him in place should he struggle. With Malack doing his best to bluff the half orc, she assumes he is enjoying himself and breaks away breathlessly. Wait here, sailor, and I will be back. We've got some time before work gets underway so we best not waste it! Grok pats his cheek hard and then rushes down below deck to her quarters for something. She does not so much as glance at the Quartermaster hold as she passes nor does she take note of the heroes who have lingered too long. The door remains unlocked..

The pantry door crashes open with the aid of Engir's heavy boot.

Bound and gagged on the floor is what appears to be Waltus Proudstump. His eyes go wide when he sees the big warrior before him with axe in hand, but his eyes shift to the sides as though he were looking for an even greater threat. When the old halfling's eyes focus on the pile of melting slag that was once his evil counterpart, he seems to relax some. His voice comes out in a muffle behind the gag.

Grrd wrrfk! Nrr geh' meh urtah' hur! He hops on his side and comes down with a thud. The same kind of thud heard moments ago by the heroes.

Another thud. A third one. Like something heavy being lifted and dropped. The rest of the little house is silent.

The pantry has a small brass doorknob. There does not seem to be a lock.

=) Glad you are enjoying yourself! Who knew a little multi-racial lip lockin' would win you over!

(Starting RotRL on Monday btw)

Grok comes striding up, her brow furrowed and her eyes red from the confrontation with the officers. They were certainly arguing about something..

When Malack steps up singing and muttering she lifts an eyebrow, stunned at first, but slowly begins to realize what this is. Human mating behavior, obviously.

As a half orc growing up on the mean streets of Port Peril she struggled to understand the way humans created bonds and her Orc blood complicated even her best attempts. But his "big'un" could throw an axe and he sang like a bloody bear. Off key and everything. Perhaps he had some Orc blood in him too.

I know what this is, sailor. At first her words sound suspicious, perhaps she knows that the heroes are up to. However...

Grok pushes Malack up against a stack of barrels and plants her mouth against his. Her shortened tusk pinch the sides of his mouth, but it isn't all together unpleasant for a man with standards as low as Malacks.

One glance at Malack and Grok would prove that there is still a moment or two to grab some gear before escaping. An opportunity not worth wasting.

Honor the sacrifice before you.

Welcome back Sjurd and congrats! We always have room for more on the ship! Feel free to jump back in the action at any time.

Added your dagger dmg Dorvren!

And wow, you guys all hit and rolled well on dmg, that poor little guy didn't stand a chance! =) Onward, to more villainy and adventure!

The creature buries its head deeper into Ikoma's chest, suddenly oblivious to the enemies around him as it feeds. Engir's axe comes down on its back with massive force and almost severs the monster in two. It lifts its "face" from the bloody wound on the samurai and catches the gnomes mace against its shoulder. The wound that serves as a mouth widens to horrible dimensions and it roars a throaty cry of pain, but that sound is muffled as Emerald's spell washes over it.
Fort Save 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
It slumps slightly, dazed from the magic, and in unison the blades of both Dorvren and Ikoma pierce it from either side. Their daggers almost touching as they tear into the doppleganger, the rogue and the samurai stagger back as the creature that appeared to be "Waltus" gives a small shudder in its death throes before falling apart like a sandcastle struck by high tide.

The creature begins to dissolve into harmless mud at your feet..

A moment, just a moment of silence, before a loud and heavy thud comes from the pantry. An eye, tilted vertically, is watching wide from beneath the door.

The scene is thus.

Ikoma and Engir are standing side by side, 10 feet from "Waltus," with Adoria protected 5 feet behind them. Emerald is 15 feet away in the east side of the house where she was tidying up. Dorvren is standing near the fire, also 15 feet away at the north side of the house.

"Waltus" lunges forward (5 foot step) to attack Ikoma!

The creature slams into the Samurai attempting to overwhelm him and grab him to feed.

Attack 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16 Hit!
Damage with Sneak Attack 1d4 + 2d6 ⇒ (1) + (3, 2) = 6 Ugh!!
Grapple Attempt 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16 Grappled!
Blood Drain- 1 Con Dmg! Youch!

*****

The faceless creature rushes forward with uncanny speed, slamming his weight into the vulnerable kidney of the samurai, before grabbing him tightly in a death embrace! The mound of swirling flesh that could be called its head nuzzles painfully against Ikoma's side and a blossom of red erupts from the wound. It is Feeding!!

Heroes, Defend yourselves and rid the world of this foul thing!

Pretty sure you all got the spirit of it. Mwahahaha- and so we fight!

For Initiative, I average out the initiative of the Good guys and the Bad Guys and let them go together. This makes it so you can all post on the "Good Guy" initiative without have to wait for other players to post before you can go.

Questions?

The moment is rapid and savage, but seems to take place in an impossibly slowed sequence of events.

Aloria's healing warms and flares over "Waltus's" wounds and the halfling gives a terrible grin as the redness leaves the marks on his flesh. The grin suddenly twists, distorts, widens! Then the face itself begins to melt like wax until nothing recognizable remains. The halfling's body bulges and convulses as he lunges forward and the creature reveals its true shape.

The Creature that seemed to be Waltus Proudstump

Ikoma and Engir, rightfully suspicious, pull the little gnome out of the way of the creature's attack before it can gain a surprise strike against her!

Initiative No Surprise Round

Heroes
Ikoma 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
Dorvren 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Emerald 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Adoria 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16
Engir 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

Monsters
Waltus?! 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

Monsters Win Initiative! Oh noes!

The papers are written in a sloppy hand, big sprawling loops that resemble a spinning handaxe in motion, and you assume it is Grok's penmanship. The manifests are simply organized and it doesn't take long to find one that is labeled-

"New Press Ganged Sailor list of things and their stuff."

The manifest suggests that the items were thrown without care into a shipping crate labeled "Bixboro's Salt Goods" and Urk's keen perception notices the crate stacked precariously near the back wall. Bits of weapon, armor and attire protrude out of the sides or are draped over the lip of the box. Basically everything the heroes started with

Urk also notices the small violin Lorelei has described. Either Grok likes being exceptionally sarcastic in terms of sympathy or this is the musical instrument belonging to Rosie.

When Asmodia steps in to try and find her healer's kit she notices a document, written in a much finer hand, laying at the edge of Grok's desk. Is it an order from Captain Harrigan to clear a great deal of space in the storage holds. The Captain is "expecting a ship on the horizon any day now" and "the loot will be substantial."

A ship. A raid. Piracy.

- - - - - - - -Moments pass when...

Malack, posted at the door, notices the officers broke up from their meeting and begin to return to their posts. Plugg heads into the Captain's Quarters, Scourge heads down to the hold and Grok- well- Grok is heading directly to her room.

The second pick is more compliant and with a skillful flick of Urk's wrist, the lock clicks and the door opens slowly..

Asmodia and Lorelei give the officers one last look, content that they remain preoccupied, before making their way to the others.

The Quartermaster's hold contains various chests, crates and boxes. A small wooden table holds various manifests, inventories, quotas and ration numbers.

With a little snoopy about the heroes may be able to find what they are looking for. Maybe more..

Waltus blinks and looks at Engir. A ripple moves along his face, but then settles back into place. He tilts his head to Aloria. Heal me.

There is a snake bite on his arm and splatters of blood along his shoulder and collar. [/b] Heal. Me. [/b] He mutters in sudden agony.

Cog's arm is healing up nicely from Asmodia's work the day before. The sailor's demeanor is gruff to anyone who comes near, but his defenses are softened in regards to the cleric.

Thanks.. He mutters. He reaches into the folds of his shirt, at the belt line, and draws out a thin blade. Keep it. I want to know you have a weapon on you if anything ever goes south.

The crew is drawn to Lorelei's song like gulls to mullet and they circle her and urge her on with smiles, winks and whistles. Mr Plugg suddenly looks past his fellow officers and focuses on the bard. His gaze is unreadable though his lips are moving along with the words of her song and he seems lost in thought. When Grok threatens to throw Scourge overboard he returns his attention to the argument and calms the conversation with a cold word and a stern look.

Meanwhile, Urk and Malack attempt to make their way into the Quartermaster's hold but the lockpick isn't playing nice. The lock is not jammed, however, and there still seems to be more time for another go. Two crew coming up from below almost notice the big man and the goblin trying to break in, but Sandara Quinn gives them a sweet smile and leads them away.

A pelican flies by and cast a squat shadow over the Wormwood. Jakes Magpie's blood is starting to dry between the boards of the deck in the harsh sun. The day continues on and time is running out..

GM Roll 11d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15
GM Roll 21d20 + 14 ⇒ (15) + 14 = 29

Waltus takes a step towards Aloria and offers out his arm. It bit me, just here, and the pain is still terrible. I would very much like these wounds tended to.

The eggs hiss and pop on the fire. The snakes hiss and thump behind the door. The broom in Emerald's hand swish, swish, swishes cross the floor. Ikoma's horse paws the wet ground outside. A moment passes.

Waltus clears his throat. Goblins. Goblins not far from here. They are going to be attacking the human settlement soon. Hundreds of goblins...many and more. They are ready for war.

Waltus scratches his neck and looks at the group as they move about the house. His right eye twitches and his mouth hangs slightly slack.

When Emerald works her charms she gathers all of the halfling's attention at once and his eyes look her over. However, his gaze is not one of attraction or admiration, there is something else in his eyes..

When Dorvren asks of his condition he nods slowly. Yes, yes. I ran into a large snake in the swamps. Tried to milk it and it bit me. I've been recovering for a few days.. He closes his mouth. I could use some healing or medicine if you have it. The pain is great.

Shadows twist and move beneath a small door leading off from the main room. They look like the shadows of many serpents writing on the floor. When Aloria appraises the room and notices this, Waltus says- Pet snakes. I keep them there to make anti toxins and the like..

Engir's gruff voice causes the halfling to flinch slightly at the sound and tense.

Heroes, Roll Perception checks.

Lorelei's song begins to draw several sailors over who are mixed with various emotions. The beautiful bard's voice seems to sooth their concerns for awhile.

More importantly, it draws much of the focus away from Malack and Urk who make their way towards the Quartermaster's room and hold..

Cog pats the barrel beside him for Asmodia to sit and lets her have his arm. Bloody terrible business, that keelhaulin', but It serves him right. You don't stab the men and women who help keep you on the water. He looks the cleric over with the corner of his eye. What do you think about it?

The officers seem to be arguing, but Plugg calms them with a raise of his hand. Their conversation continues.

Urk's feet pitter-patter cross the wooden decks until he reaches Grok's door. He sticks to the shadows and the places behind rope and barrel to stay out of sight.

Malack, if you are attempting to come along and want to try and blend in or stay out of sight, lets see a Stealth check.

Grok's door is locked, but it doesn't seem complex.

Sandara looks to Malack with frustration on her face. I don't know much about the man. A simple sailor who ran into trouble. That can be a common thing on ships like this, but the Captain is harsh when it comes to discipline. She watches Scourge douse the bloody deck with a bucket of salt water trying to wash it clean. Maybe harsh isn't the word...

Asmodia utters a few words to Besmara and looks around for Grok. She is over with the other officers. It would seem, for a canny and skilled group, the perfect opportunity to try and recover their items.

However, one glance at the pink and frothy water sloshing around the deck...all that remains of poor Jakes Magpie...proves that getting caught would be a painful lesson indeed.

But here, on the open seas serving under the ship of a mad man, what isn't foolhardy and deadly?

Dorvren slips into the shadows. He feels comfortable and safe in the dark places.

Ikoma and Emerald knock on the door and prepare to greet the halfling. Emerald gives a quick look around, but nothing seems out of place.

The door opens a crack...and a pale face peers out. It is the face of a halfling, though from the color of his flesh and the flecks of blood on his collar, he does not look well.

Hello. Aye, I'm Waltus. What can I do for you? He asks.

After Emerald's amazing bit of introduction, the halfling opens the door and lets them in.

The place is untidy, small and smells cloistered and moldy. A round table made from the trunk of a huge tree sits in the middle of a makeshift kitchen area and the halfling goes about preparing them a meal.

I don't often get visitors this far out, but you look hungry and the swamp has little mercy for the hungry. He drops several eggs into a heating pan. What is it you all are doing out here?

With the combined effort and skill of your party, the heroes make their way through the thick and cloying marsh. Birds move from tree branch to tree branch and scatter the air with a cacophony of various trills and calls.

Engir keeps the group on the "path" and twice calls out poisonous weeds and dangerous ground. The keen eyes of Dorvren and Aloria spot a hidden slick of quicksand and a curious snake eyeing Ikoma's mount from the canopy of a dying willow. The samurai's even stare seems to invoke something primal in the serpent and it slithers away into the tangle of grass. Warm sunlight brushes Emerald's skin and the smells around you all are musky, but pleasant, for they are the scents of wild places.

After a few miles traveling in this way you come upon a simple cottage, thatch-roofed and squat, resembling nothing more than a small round toadstool at the edge of the swamp. Surely, this is the home of the self proclaimed Warden, Waltus Proudstump. Puffs of black and gray smoke billow out from a small stone chimney and merge with the midday skyline.

It looks as though someone is home.

All of the members who have recently been press ganged (including Cog, Rosie and Quinn) stand to the sides as the grisly scene plays out. Their faces are a mixture of confusion, anger and fear. Magpie is bound to a rope that runs the length of the ship and circles under it beneath the waves. Poor Jakes is tossed off the front of the vessel head first into the water and the surging motion of the Wormwood catches him in her passing and plunges him close against the hull.

Plugg, Scourge and several others make their way to the back of the boat...the long length of rope slowly making its way back around again.

Foot by bloody foot the rope is pulled back in and what remains is too savaged and torn to be recognizable any more.

Scourge chuckles as he cuts the corpse free of the line and boots it over into the churning sea below.

Seems the ship be needin' a good under' cleanin' Cap'N. Scourge chuckles. Them barnacles ate'em up like the teeth of a tiger shark, they did.

Harrigan does not look to Scourge or the others. His eyes are looking out over the crew.

Let this be a lesson to all of you. He turns and returns to his cabin.

******

The sailors slowly move away from the grisly scene and go about small and simple tasks. With Scourge and Plugg preoccupied, the crew has some time to themselves. People eat, drink, look to the sky. Some mutter under their breath and others make the sign of Besmara over their hearts.

For the first time since arriving on the Wormwood you aren't being watched. Freedom, a rum sweet taste of freedom, if for but an hour or so is yours...

Yeah, I've been trying to stagger my posts to give her a chance to catch up.

*UPDATE- Looks like life happened! Sjurd will be joining us again soon.

Ol' Chester climbs from his cart, stoop backed, and grabs a wispy looking fishing pole from the back of the wagon. With a twist of a nightcrawler on the hook he sends the line out a few feet away from the water's edge. A glistening, black snake is disturbed by the intrusion and side winds its way across the swamp in the opposite direction.

The path starts just ther' Ol' Chester mutters between his few remaining teeth. But I hope you have a head fer' directions, cause it ain't much of a path fer' long.

A little smoke is puffing out along the tree line and it could very well be the cottage of the Warden.

Players, make DC 12 Perception checks to find a good trail and a DC 10 Survival check to head in the right direction..

The crew and officers have gathered on deck with a new dawn rising over the water. The sails are slack and a ring of hungry gulls is circling the Wormwood in anticipation..

A sailor, bound in rope at wrist and ankle, is looking up at the helm with fear in his eyes. With the sun bright behind him, it is difficult to make out the figure behind the wheel, but the massive silhouette of Captain Harrigan is unmistakable.

Jakes Magpie, ye' have knifed a fellow crewman and stolen what be his. While on board my ship, we do not kill or steal from one another, for our fates be intertwined, as it were. Harrigan takes a step down from the helm, his terrible gaze on the poor swab withering below him.

But I be a merciful Captain, as anyone can attest to. Scourge, lingering close, chuckles darkly at this. You will have a chance at life yet..

Harrigan looks to Plugg and nods. Tie him to the lines and send him beneath the boat from bow to stern. If Mr Magpie should see fit to live through his ordeal, place him in the hotbox for a fortnight. If he is still livin, than Gods damn it, put him back to work.

Jakes blubbers and begs for a different verdict, but Scourge and Plugg (as well as several eager deckhands) have already begun to bind him up.

With the heroes loaded up on the cart, Ol' Chester gives his swayback donkey a good lick of his belt and the lot of them go clattering down the streets of Sandpoint and out the western gate.

I'll take ye as fer' as the glen, I will, then I have fishin' to do and ye' have goblin killin' to be about. Be shur' to watch the tree lines fer' snakes and critters and to watch the water fer' gaters' and worse. He lets out a laugh that sounds similar to the bray of his mule. And if ye' see that there white stalker, best ye' hope yer' faster then it! Har!

Warm and inviting sunlight begins to lance through the tree canopy above and the song of frogs, crickets and birds create a backdrop of sound. Dragonflies skip the murky water with wings beating too fast to see and fat bodied bees move from flower to flower in their toil.

Best ye' find Ol Waltus Proudstump too. Ther' is a path ye' can take straight to his home. He is an odd sort, he is, but he be your best bet at findin' them gobos, he is. Ol' Chester says through his last remaining teeth.

The adventure begins at last- Brinestump Marsh is alive all around you!

Urk notices that the closest sailor to him is wearing a crude knife tucked in his rope belt. The grip is worn from sweat and pressure, but the slightly tarnished blade looks plenty sharp.

Silence, aye. But then an explosion of cheers, hoots and hollers explode from the swabs nearby! Grok is at first stunned, then she nods in approval, and hands Malack a similar silver coin. Well done, pink flesh, you throw like you have a bit of orc in your blood. This is a fine thing to have aboard the ship. She looks him over in appraisal.

Cog and Rosie look over to the commotion as it is hard to ignore. Those two seem to be getting along well with the crew. Rosie quips to Lorelei. They might be doing the best thing possible in regards to getting back their items. Making nice with that ugly half orc.

The distraction is a blessing as Crimson is caught unawares when the rum hits his wound. He hisses back the pain, but allows Asmodia to bind it. He gives her a smirk and a nod of appreciation. I was hoping for something a bit more...magical. Anyway, thanks. Truly. He adds.

*****

As the sun sets over the horizon the crew shuffle back towards their quarters. Though their bodies are weary, their spirits are high from the days activities. Hammocks have been slung up in the cramped holds for the new press ganged sailors and despite the thoughts they may churning in your mind....sleep would claim you like a poisoned drink in the night.

*****

Morning of the second day. The dawn is breaking over the Wormwood and already there is commotion on deck. Voices are raised in anger. Something is wrong..

Picture of Rosie Cusswell

Picture of Crimson "Cog" Cogward

"Cog" grumbles but offers up his arm to Asmodia. Yeah yeah, heard you was a priestess anyhow, so I guess it don't hurt to let you look. The wound is messy, but the cut from the lash was surprisingly clean, and seawater and wind have already began to heal it some. However, if sweat and dirt from the days activity make its way too deeply into the wound time will see it infected over night. Why you on this boat, priestess? He looks up to her. And do you have a name? Your baring is Chelaxian, which is a fearful thing, as the Captain is rumored to hate those from Cheliax more than any other creatures who stand on deck.

Lorelei makes her way over to Asmodia, Cog and the halfling woman. The halfling has been watching the exchange between the healer and the wounded sailor, but looks to the bard when she approaches. You are a bard and a very good one. She says. She glares over at the half orc quartermaster. I'd have been happy to put some music behind your song earlier, but that damned Grok took my fiddle and more. What I wouldn't give to get it back. She mutters, but offers her hand. I'm Rosie Cusswell. Pleased to meet one as talented as you.

Grok frowns a tusky frown when the goblin lifts the handaxe, but smiles in satisfaction when he missed the barrel. Heh heh heh, big talk but tiny throws. She slips him a snaggletooth silver from Drenchport and there is some admiration in her features. She and the gathered sailors then look at Malack as he approaches. You wish to throw the axes, but they are like kernels of corn in your large mitts. Heh heh heh.. She pulls over a harpoon from a nearby rack and hands him one. A silver if you can hit that barrel with the h'poon. A second silver if you can pull it to my feet in a single tug of the line.

DC 10 to hit the barrel. DC 12 STR to pull it over in a single tug.

The meal is exceptionally good and when it comes to the bill, Ameiko refuses payment. Heroes always eat free here. She says with a smile. There is even a hint of casual envy in her features- she looks like she'd rather be going out with them then serving eggs to the locals. With a wink she wishes them good luck!

Outside, Ikoma is maintaining his mount and gear while Ol'Chester rolls up with his threadbare wagon. The mule pulling it is shaggy and old. Mornin' folks. Bring me out bacon and mead fer' the road and we will head out to the swamp. There are bamboo fishing poles poking out in various angles, a patchwork net and several wooden buckets.

When the others make their way outside he waves them over. Just sit anywher' you can find a seat. Ther' is a short ride a head of us and the sun is getting hot, sure as sure. Climb in, ye' adventuers', and to Brinestump we go.

Sandru exchanges looks with Ameiko at the awkward exchange between Dorvren and Aloria, but they both shrug and go about their business. Sandru gathers his things and heads for the door before looking back to the group.

I'm sure those fireworks were headed here for the festival, but those goblins can't pass up a haul like that. Fireworks are like dragonfire in the hands of greenskins- makes them terribly bold and that makes them dangerous. They treasure those pyrotechnics as highly as we value gold so maybe you can play that against them somehow. Anyway, I hope to see you all on your return. Sandru tips his head and heads out of the Rusty Dragon.

The evening passes with much conversation, drink and music. When the heroes are done with their night of relaxation they head to their respective rooms and sleep.

*****

The Sun would greet you with the dawn.

The smell of bacon, eggs and ham rises up from the kitchens and the clatter of pots and pans can be heard below. Ameiko is singing a Tian song while she works and the main door opens and closes with a wooden thunk as patrons move in and out to break their fast before heading to work.

I've been slowing down posting to give players a chance to jump in, but some people are falling through the cracks. I'd like for this to be a 2 post a day PbP. Is that still doable for everyone?

The man lifts his eyes to Asmodia and his features are a mixture of both annoyance and acceptance of her concern. I told the Master-at-arms where he could stick his whip...he took a layer of meat from my forearm. A fair trade, maybe, but not something I'm like to try again. I don't want your pity, mind you. No pity at all. My names Crimson Cogward and I've never suffered pity a day in my life.

Asmodia, roll a Diplomacy check to see if you can open up some real conversation with Cog

Grok throws her head back and laughs at Urk's request. The other sailors join her. Little greenfoot, you think you can throw my hatchets with those tiny hands of yours? heh heh heh. A shiny silver says you can't lift it over your head. A second says you can't hit that barrel if you tried. Grok challenges. She unhooks one of the throwing axes from her belt and lowers it.

It's a medium sized throwing axe. AC 12 to hit the barrel!

Sandara smirks at Malack's words and his round-a-bout way. Well now I know your master plan when it comes to the ladies. Does that actually work? She says playfully. Quinn looks out over the water. I'm not sure how we are getting off this boat. We are out to sea by days so there is not swimming back, that's for sure. And where would I go? Right back to Port Peril! That's where the action and the fame is! How about you?

Thanks for the praise, He of the Green, you guys have been a pleasure to RP with too! And no, I don't use the Hero points rules for my PbP adventures.

Sandru tilts his head and listens. Aye, most tales are a bit of Crone's hearth and truth, but there are people in Sandpoint who have claimed to see it. And then there are those missing bodies...

Sandru pushes himself up from his chair. Be that as it may, those gobos are certainly causing trouble and that bounty will put some real coin to men and women bold enough to claim it. If you are looking for someone to guide you into that swamp, Ol' Chester here heads out every morning to fish and knows the best paths to get you there. Sandru puts a hand on the old man's shoulder who Ameiko gave a free drink to earlier.

Ol' Chester lifts his eyes to them, they are foggy white and don't seem to focus on anything in particular. Sure as sure I can takes' you out, fer' a pint and a meal on the morrow, as fer' as the swamp edge I will! That is wer' I do my fishin' and that is wer' I go no ferther. But Proudstump will be just a ways ferther up the path if ye' need a berter' guide than Ol' Chester.

Urk- Grok tosses one of her hand axes out with startling force and it thunks into the wood of a barrel with an audible crack.

Eh, little goblin? You couldn't help but notice me? Heh heh heh. Of course you noticed Lady Cut-Throat and her spinning axes. She sends a second one out that lands a half inch from the first. Now if there were 5 of you, stacked one upon another, we might have a reason to talk about it. She grins a tusky grin, clearly not interested in mere conversation.

Asmodia- You notice two crewmen who seem to stand out but are off to the side to themselves. The first one is a man with a blue Varisian scarf tied around his head. He is scowling and pressing a cloth against his forearm where Scourge whipped him earlier. The second is a halfling with a masterwork handaxe in her belt, long honey blond hair and golden hoop rings in her ears. She is sitting close to the man, but they are not speaking. She feels someone watching her and makes eye contact with you.

Malack- Sandara takes her tricorn hat off and pushes her firey red hair back from her face. Her arms bare "sleeves" of tattoo's of various images, symbols and scenes. I'm from Hell's Harbor, sailor, and have made my way about the Shackles a time or two. I started living on ships when I was 12 years old, climbing the high lines of my father's Stormcrow before she dashed herself on the Teeth of Corus just above Port Peril. Quinn hands a half mug of rum to Malack, what she has not finished, and continues. I've been on board this ship for just about a week, give or take. Plugg made a pass at me in a local tavern and received a slap to the face. He didn't say a word, just turned beet red and walked out. Later that night someone clubbed me and tossed me into a canvas sack. Woke up in those damn holds the next morning..

Sjurd- A few sailors eye your spell casting with a mix of wonder, envy and fear. They aren't sure what you are doing to your food and drink and the word "witch" is heard muttered a time or two but you can't pinpoint the source. As in all things so far, this crew does not seem in accord on any one matter and most everyone is out for themselves.

-Lorelei- Your song is met with immediate cheers and hoots as many of the swabs recognize the bawdy tune. By the second run of the chorus the sailors are stamping their feet, swinging their mugs and shouting at the lyrics with you. A few even stand to dance and loosen their legs. When the song is over, someone shouts "Another one" and a second voice booms "To the singer and the cook! Have ye made our day a fine one!"

Hey gang! Heading out of town tomorrow. The next post will be Sunday morning. Have a great Saturday!

Hey gang! Heading out of town tomorrow. The next post will be Sunday morning. Have a great Saturday!

Sandru shakes Dorvren's hand as the young man bombards him with a series of questions. He laughs heartily. Slow down, my friend, and let's see if we can sort through the fury of this interrogation together. He smiles playfully, one tooth far to the right sparkles gold.

The marsh is dangerous, yes. Not only are their gators, snakes and other wild and natural creatures about...but have you heard the legend of the Soggy River Monster? He scoots his chair closer to the group and even the bard stops playing to listen to the tale.

There is a creature, white is death and as enduring as marble, who stalks the low places of Brinestump with a ravenous hunger. Why, this year alone I know of 5 people who have wandered into the swamps and never come out again. Sandru drops his voice lower for theatrics.
They say the Soggy River Monster found them and stripped their bones clean before making a throne of them to some dark court..

Sandru slams his fists down on the tabletop and roars. And you could be next!!! A woman shrieks, the bard breaks a string on his lyre, Ameiko drops a mug.

Desna's bosom, Sandru! No ghost stories in the common area! She goes to clean up the mess and anyone looking would see she is smiling to herself and not truly angry at all.

Sandru throws his head back and laughs out loud. It is a tale without merit, my friend! A spook of the imagination. But seriously, there are goblins and they are real enough. With fireworks, they'd be bold as brass and planning on attacking anything that leaves the walls of Sandpoint. I'd travel with care.

Ameiko finishes cleaning the mess and heads back behind the counter to pour another. There is Walthus Proudstump. She says. He is old and lives alone out in the swamps. Calls himself its warden, but its not official in any sense. If you were looking for someone who knew the Brinestump swamps well it would be him.

Picture of Cut Throat Grok