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Taken in by the shock of the moment, John was temporarily lost for words. The room was silent and all eyes were on him. John knew he had to make a decision. His first inclination was to scream Yes with joyful abandonment, but John was not the same man that had set out for Sargava aboard the Empty Lighthouse, a ruined wreck, halfway into a bottle. John knew that he no longer needed the validation of the Andoran navy to define him. Too much had changed, both inside of him and in the world around him. There were moments in one's life were everything would change. His enlistment in the navy rather than follow in the footsteps of his father as a farmer. The boarding of the Taskmasters Pride and his saving of Alima. The birth of his daughter Farah. The battle against Typhys Scalp-Taker aboard the Carron Maw and the subsquent loss of his leg. The death of Iakob by Rickard Plugg. The touch of Besmara. This was a fork in the road. If he said no, he would never regain the chance and the actions that he and his friends might take upon the high-seas could forever exile him from his homeland under the title of pirate. If he said yes, it would be make things much easier. Safe ports to moor, providence for his family and the support of a nation he loved. The choice was clear. He would take the commission and the letter of marquee and may the Gods be dammed. Glancing at his friends, John nodded slowly. It's a fair and generous offer Captain Tantrey. I would gladly accept both the commission and the letter of marquee, but I can't speak for my friends when I know this decision is bigger than myself. Turning to Doran, Aaron and the others, John gestures to Captain Tantry. What say all of you?
Eyes narrowing ever so slightly over the edge of the pewter tankard , John studied Lady Agasta quietly. There was clearly more to her current circumstances then she was willing to let on, but John couldn't blame her for holding her cards close to her chest. Ollivor has to got the right of it Lady Agasta. Barnabas is a right bloody bastard, him and most of his crew, hateful and vengeful. Chuckling darkly, John took another long pull of his ale and thought back to the blood stained shoreline of Bonewrack Isle. His first mate too. Of course we ended that quarrel on the shore. Nodding softly, John patted the handle of Iakobs pistol. Bloody right we did. But beyond everything else that Barnabas is, he is also a traitor to the Pirate Council, who has been working with the Chelish Navy. That’s something all of us can vouch for. By hell or high-water I mean for Barnabas to get the payment he deserves. Queens oath upon it.
Lowering himself down into the high backed banquet hall seat, John offers a brief but respectful nod to Lady Smythee. My thanks for your hospitality, Lady Smythee, both for the graciousness you have shown us, and our crew. Pausing, John motions first to Doran, then Thorn, Ollivor, Aaron and finally Vrunyar while offering an introduction. I first met Captain Tantrey years ago when we were both members of the Andoran Navy. I served aboard the Righteous Eagle, while he captained the Bonadventure. More recently however my companions and I encountered him while again during a raid at Rickty Squibbs. Captain Tantrey was raiding Squibs to free the Halfling slaves while we were attempting to steal back our ship that had been previously been captured by Barnabas Harrigan as a prize. Taking a long sip of Ale, John closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the taste. Somehow being free made it taste fuller, better. It's quite a tale, but needless to say, through good fortune and hard-fought effort we were able to reclaim our ship, while at the same time make contact with Captain Tantrey who advised us to proceed here, claiming it to be a safe harbor. Taking a final sip, John smiled. And so it is.
Ranger (Freebooter) 4 -> Ranger 4 (Freebooter) / Bloodrager 1 (Elemental (Aquatic)) Saves: +2 Fortitude
Elemental Strikes (Su): At 1st level, three times a day as a swift action you can imbue your melee attacks with elemental energy (cold). For 1 round, your melee attacks deal 1d6 points of additional damage of your energy type (Cold). At 8th level, you can use this ability up to five times per day. At 20th level, all your melee attacks deal this damage, and this ability no longer requires a swift action to activate. Bloodrage (Su): The bloodrager's source of internal power grants him the ability to bloodrage. At 1st level, a bloodrager can bloodrage for a number of rounds per day equal to 4 + his Constitution modifier. At each level after 1st, he can bloodrage for 2 additional rounds per day. Temporary increases to Constitution (such as those gained from bloodraging or spells like bear's endurance) don't increase the total number of rounds that a bloodrager can bloodrage per day. The total number of rounds of bloodrage per day is renewed after resting for 8 hours, although these hours need not be consecutive. A bloodrager can enter a bloodrage as a free action. While in a bloodrage, a bloodrager gains a +4 morale bonus to his Strength and Constitution, as well as a +2 morale bonus on Will saves. In addition, he takes a –2 penalty to Armor Class. The increase to Constitution grants the bloodrager 2 hit points per Hit Die, but these disappear when the bloodrage ends and are not lost first like temporary hit points. While bloodraging, a bloodrager cannot use any Charisma-, Dexterity-, or Intelligence-based skills (except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride) or any ability that requires patience or concentration. A bloodrager can end his bloodrage as a free action. When the bloodrage ends, he's fatigued for a number of rounds equal to twice the number of rounds spent in the bloodrage. A bloodrager cannot enter a new bloodrage while fatigued or exhausted, but can otherwise enter bloodrage multiple times during a single encounter or combat. If a bloodrager falls unconscious, his bloodrage immediately ends, placing him in peril of death. Bloodrage counts as the barbarian's rage class feature for the purpose of feat prerequisites, feat abilities, magic item abilities, and spell effects. Fast Movement (Ex): A bloodrager's land speed is faster than is normal for his race by 10 feet. This benefit applies only when he is wearing no armor, light armor, or medium armor, and not carrying a heavy load. Apply this bonus before modifying the bloodrager's speed due to any armor worn or load carried. This bonus stacks with any other bonuses to the bloodrager's land speed. Hero Points: +1 Afternoon guys, As I have alluded to in game several times before, John has some anger problems. I thought that a single dip into Bloodrager would work quite well. @Vrun: Lets say that your salve helps with some of my knee pain, accounting for my increase in move speed, eh?
Hi guys! My hand is slowly getting better and I can type a bit now adays without much pain. I wanted to get in a post. For now I'm going to be keeping my stuff short, but I can tell that things are getting better! @Vrunyar: As a character, John would love to regain the use of his leg. It's something that he would want. That said, as a player, mechanically the peg-leg doesn't hinder me and I would feel bad for you to lose basically a feat. What are your thoughts, it's an interesting idea. P.S. I'll see about getting John leveled upto 5 soon.
Seeing Sandra's crimson hair fluttering in the sea breeze, John fixed a smile on his face. Feth me, but I've been too long away from Alima. John thought raggedly as he waved a hand at the tattooed woman. Aye Sandra! Time we be setting sail and the sooner the better. I'm sure Doran will explain once we are underway, but Harrigan is coming this way so we are sailing south while we can. Turning quickly to Doran, John nods. I'll see to everything below decks being stowed while you can turn to the tacking of sails. Cracking his knuckled, John starts hobbling towards the ladderwell leading down into the inner hold of the Empty Lighthouse. Right Lads! John bellows, his voice beginning to trail off as he stomps downward. Stash your gear right and tidy, lash it down and prep for sea. We can sort racks and chests as necessary. For now let's just get everything stowed.
Nodding quietly in agreement with Doran, John tries to hide the shock at seeing such vast sums of gold before him coupled with Tantry's hard words about the Andoran military, true that they were, instead he grips the captains hand with his own and nods in respect. Before him was literally a treasure of a lifetime. With his split alone, the gold would be enough for Alima, Farah and John to live a life of quiet prosperity. No more worrying about where the next meal will come from or if Alima will have to take on a job. No more worrying about new clothes for Farah.[/b] And yet as the thought came rushing to the surface. John glanced at the grateful eyes of the Halflings as they looked towards Doran, John, Vrunyar and the others and felt a stab of guilt. Promises had been made and oaths sworn. Iakob had passed, but the death oath that John had sworn over his dead friend as well as the tattoo that marked that oath remained. Uneasily, John gulped. There was no good way around it. When John had set sail on the [i]Empty Lighthouse he had done so to provide for his wife and child. Now he could do that, but along the way he had sworn other binding oaths. Scratching at his chest, John scowled. There was also the issue of bond to the Black Queen. No... she doesn't strike me as one to let go of something easily. Blowing slowly out of his nose, John shook his head before glancing at the wheel of the Empty Lighthouse. Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast, If you see a sailing-ship it might be your last, so drink-up me-harties drink up. Shaking his head, John stepped forward. It goes without saying that any are welcome to join us. All are treated fairly and given a proper share. Leadership is shared so that no man may have full power and each takes his turn at the watch. Captain Tantrey is known to me as a fair man and I would also voice my recommendation of his character. Regardless, should you choose to sign onto a crew or seek your freedom somewhere else, I would wish you the best of luck. Turning back towards Captain Tandrey, John smiles before growing serious. There a storm rising Captain. I know that Andoran turned its back on you, as it did on me but during our press-ganging we learned that Admiral Arronyx Endymion of the Hellsmouth has some sort of truce with Captain Barnabas Harrigan of the Wormwood. An alliance between the Pirates of the Shakles and the Chelish Navy can mean no good to Andoran or any free nation that plies the waters of the Inner-Sea. Frowning, John began to slowly formulate a plan. I think this is important and I mean for Lord Havershaw to be made aware of it. Tell me Captain Tandrey, you know these waters well, and from what I understand know more about the politics among the Pirates Council then I do. Is there anyone else that should know about this or anyone in Andoran you would like me to contact, should we make landfall there?
Seeing the sharp, clean lines of the Bonaventure John felt a surge of pride thrum though his chest like a well struck chord. A flood of memories quickly surfaced. John standing on the dock as he reported into the Righteous Eagle for the first time. His first lesions in leadership. The furious combat in the name of liberty. Unconsciously, John smiled. It was a sad smile, the smile of a man that had seen his lost love. That was his old life, and the red haired man knew that he would never wear the uniform again. Loss suddenly filled him and left a bitter tang in his mouth. So dam much has been lost and my life is not what I had thought it would be. Hand curling into a fist in anger, John sighed. At least he would finally get to see Captain Tantrey again. It had been a long time and worlds away. Fixing a smile on his face, John limped though the mass of Halflings, towards Tantrey, before summoning up a salute that was a remnant from an older time. Captain Tantrey, Sir. John stated, fixing the Taldan square in the eye. John Rawkins, formerly of the Andoran marine's. I served aboard the Righteous Eagle as one of Lord Havershaw's boarding compliment. Gesturing to the Doran, John nods. Everything Doran stated is true. Some of us were apart of the original crew of the Empty Lighthouse and after our capture by the Wormwood , we've fought tooth and nail to win back our freedom.
As Doran starts directing others for the ships signal flags, John gives a ragged cough. Glancing down into his hand is a misting of pink phlegm. Well sod me. The red haired sailor thinks to himself before giving a nod in Vrunyar's general direction. Holding his side, the marine gives a nod. Right, I'll see to the wounded and start funneling them toward the sick bay. I'll also see about securing the body and any personal belongings. With as powerful as the bloody bastard was, I wouldn't be surprised if he had something useful on him.
As John finishes sorting the worst of the wounded towards the sick bay, the marine pushes his way back onto the Empty Lighthouses main deck and into the sun. Eyes squinting from the bright light, John limps his toward Doran who holds a pair of semaphore flags in front of him. "S-U-R-R-E-N-D-E-R-space-A-N-D-space-I-D-E-N-T-I-F-Y-space-O-N-E-space-C-H- A-N-C-E-space-T-O-space-E-X-P-L-A-I-N." The marine reads out loud for the benefit of the rest of the crew. Then, as Doran sends a group of halflings up the rigging, John nods as he reads the message being slowly spelled out. Aye.. space- P-I-R-A-T-E-S
Slammed to the deck, John tried to scream, but only a bloody gurgle managed to escape his raw throat. The clash of steel filled the air. Everything seemed painful. Raggedly the one legged marine pushed himself tiredly onto his feet. Your still alive mate. Still fething alive. John muttered to himself as he hacked up a glob of bloody phlegm. Summoning what remaining strength he had, John knew that this strike had to land. The next few seconds might be the difference between his life and his death. It was like walking Besmara's own plank. The thought came out of nowhere, and John shouldn’t have found it funny, but somehow it was. Rommen! At me you big fething bastard! John yelled, drawing the gigantic man's ire. Grinning madly, teeth crimson, John spat into the hulking behemoths face with a spray of red droplets before quickly bringing his falchion up and through in a massive overhand strike, though the man's clavicle and into his chest. NO QUARTER!
Seagulls cawed overhead as crimson blood fell upon the deck of the Empty Lighthouse. Excitement spurred John onward with a cry. After what seemed like so long trapped first aboard the Wormwood and then upon the Man's Promise The chance for true freedom was something that John yearned for with all of his heart. The capture of the Empty Lighthouse carried with it so much more then just a chance at another escape. There was the chance of seeing his wife and daughter again, the chance to keep his promise to Iakob and the ability to chart his own future. Bellowing like a stomping bull, John charged forward across the wooden deck raising his falchion above his head, but in his excitement his strike faltered at the last moment, barely missing Harrigan's proxy captain.
Screams of pain echoed along the dirt packed street. The hot jungle air carried on its winds the acrid smell of burnt wood and the coppery tang of blood. Black smoke and red death, a Halfling falling to the ground. The crack of a musket being fired. The desperate bellows of men walking the daggers edge between life and death. The bloody, wild melee came in flashes to John. Blood ran down his arm, though he could barely comprehend the pain. That should have bothered him, but for some reason it didn't. It didn't at all. The shipyard guard in front of the red haired marine's looked at John with fear in his eyes. He looked as if he was ready to break and run. But that wasn't an option any more. The die had been cast and no quarter would be given. Still, John didn't say a thing. Hard words were for fools and cowards. John simply acted with furious anger, stepping forward and striking the man down.
Some things have to be done. It's better to do them, than to live with the fear of them. The thought bubbled up from the back of Johns mind as he gripped his Falchion in his scarred and bloody hands. John was tired, sweaty and wanted a warm bath and a cold drink. He wanted to sleep well at night. He wanted Iakob to still be alive. Shaking his head infrustation, John grimaced. Life should have a worth to it John thought again as he saw Doran leading the freed halfling slaves down the dirt packed street, but as the guards, Markis and Rickety appeared, shouting theats, bearing dark deeds in mind, John felt something go hard inside of him. Life should be worth something.. but right now it's not. It's as cheap as dirt.. no its cheaper. There was a heat rising in Johns chest. It bubbled and boiled. It was the slow, simmering rage that always lurked at the back of his mind. It was the rage that kept him alive when other men might die. It make him fear-quick and hate-strong. The guardsman's blade slicing deep into his left side, John grunted but he felt no pain. It was a sign. A message in a secret tongue, that only he could understand. His queen told him where the next dead man was standing. There was no thought, only action. A quick step to the right, putting the dead man between John and Thorn, then a powerful overhand chop that left a screaming man and a spray of blood.
Pointing swiftly to the mooring lines, John mimics a cutting motion with his boarding axe in the other hand. Aye Thorn, we can use the hull itself to cover us as we approach. Once aboard we can sever the mooring lines and push off to prevent reinforcements arriving from the pier. After that we will need to make a quick survey of what armaments are aboard before deciding how to proceed. If the Lighthouse is bare then we won't be much help to those ashore, but that's a bridge we will cross when we come to it, aye?
Giving a beaming smile at Thorn, John nods in agreement, feeling the currents of fortune shifting. Aye! Capt. Tantrey was a good man when I knew him. Hard fighter, dedicated to anti-slavery. Turning quickly to the others, John pointed with his boarding axe at the Empty Lighthouse The alarm is raised, and The Bonadventure is going to garnish the wealth of attention. The Bonadventure is a full ship-of-the-line and they are going to have more men and better armaments then us. I say we try slipping over the side of the Lighthouse and take her while the attention is elsewhere. Once we take the Lighthouse back we can see about putting whatever weapons are onboard to good use against Ricky's and send up a signal to the Venture' that we are allies. Savvy?
Quietly contemplating the situation at hand, John wordlessly shrugs off his weather-worn pack and riffling through it dug out Iabobs powder-horn. Feeling the functional, tooled leather under his fingers, John felt a pang of sorrow. I'm not sure how much gun powder is left, but if will help then I'll offer it up.
Aye, there she is. John said quietly, towering over the dwarf and gazing through the jungles green's towards the settlement that stood nears the water’s edge. Remaining quiet, John thought back to the first time he had seen the Empty Lighthouse and how he had compared her to a penniless and old lady and likened himself to a beggar. Oh how things change. The burly marine murmured to himself, smiling faintly. Shaking his head and clearing away the memory, John turned towards Vrunyar. It should go without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway. I agree. We need to free those halflings. We have all been slaves now, in some form or another and I wouldn’t wish it on another being. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, John scrunched up his face in thought. It's a small town.. John said slowly, drawing on his past experience and military training. Newcomers will be met with scrutiny. It's isolated too, so if Aaron was to try to walk into the town he would be questioned and asked how he arrived. Shaking his head slowly, John frowned. I think our best chance would be if a few stealthy folks tried sneaking into that lookout tower and capture whoever's up there and get some answers. Turning his eyes back towards the halflings, John pointed. Once we take out the tower we will need to be quick depending one how often they change out the lookouts. With it being night if we are luckily, most of the guards and whatever crew sailed in on the Empty Lighthouse should be either asleep or drunk and we can use their laxity to our advantage. Smiling at Vrunyar, John nodded again at the tower. The tower is a good distance from the rest of the town. After we capture the guard we could set it on fire like you suggested. Could be a good distraction, indeed.
Nodding slowly, first at Ollivor and then at Thorn, John withdraws the carved seaworn wand from his pack before closing his eyes and invoking the magic stored within it. The magic was becoming easier and easier to grasp each time that the worn sailor seized it. John wasn’t sure if he should find relief in this knowledge or worry. In truth the red-haired man hardly did think about it. What matters the most at that moment that he, along with his friends were stuck on a foreign coast, and the rest of the crew of the Man’s Promise were relying on them.
Oh.. John gasped looking down at his right leg, while clamping a hand to his hip. John felt his heart thudding in his chest rapidly. Ahead of him was the corpse of the snakelike creature floating in the water, its blood slowly causing the river to take on a crimson hue. Suddenly John felt a wracking surge of pain flow through him followed by a tiredness that made the marine want to sleep. Why do I taste mint? John asked no one in particular as he slumped into the water weakly. Without prompting, Vrunyar rushed towards John’s side, already in the process of grabbing his medical kit. Get him on shore. The dwarf barked, the concern visible in his eyes. Like mint and iron. John said, slurring his words slightly and frowning as the jungle’s verdant green began to blur together.
Digging into his kit, the dwarf withdrew a set of steel forceps and a ball of cotton. John, hold on, I’m going to force the cotton into your wound, like I would treat a stone-snake bite. The cotton should absorb the toxin and I can then withdraw it without causing it to enter your blood stream. Weakly, John nodded. That sounds gooood.. realllyy goood. Before shaking his head and trying to clear the weak haziness that was threatening to overpower him. It was over quickly, though not painlessly. The dwarfs hands, as quick with a scalpel as they were with forceps moved expertly, cleansing the wound and sopping up the pocket of remaining poison. With deft sure motions, the dwarf forced the puncture open a second time after withdrawing the cotton and sluiced the wound free of any remaining ichor. There, all done. Vrunyar stated, examining the cotton swab with a glance. Experimentally, John flexed his leg. Blood ran slowly out of the puncture wound. It burned, by the gods is burned. But it was the pain that John would expect from a stab as opposed to poison. Swallowing, John tasted the inside of his mouth. The minty sensation was gone, as was thundering in his chest. John closed his eyes and inclined his head. Thank you. The marine said quietly before forcing himself back to his feet with a grunt. The jungle continued to buzz around him, the sounds of life threatening to overwhelm the senses. John breathed out slowly releasing a breath that he did not know he had been holding. I think I’m ok. John stated turning back to the others. Is anyone else hurt?
Knocked back into the water by the sinuous, lashing tail of the hissing creature, John winced in pain. The water sprayed upward, soaking John’s shirt and momentarily blinding him. Gritting his teeth, the marine forced himself up onto his hobbled leg, eliciting yet another stab of pain through the man’s knee. Pain upon pain, some things never changed. John shook his head and threw himself back into the fight. Roaring in anger, John grabbed his axe in two hands and scythed downward into the creature’s tail, causing scale and sinew to part and blue-black blood to spew out from the ragged wound accompanied by a satisfying, wordless, howl of pain from the creature.
Standing on the vine choked banks of the river’s edge, John held his pistol firmly in one hand while his other griped the leather wrapped half of the boarding axe he had taken off of the Wormwood in the minutes leading up to the bloody boarding of the Man’s Promise. Thanks to Aarons sharp eyes the rest of the group had been able to make it to the shores edge in time to avoid being ambushed by the giant snake like creature. The creature, whatever it was, with its strange human like face and wicked looking fangs was clearly hostile to the group and John was taking no chances. Work as a team, surround it and let’s put this thing down quick. John bellowed, while keeping his weapons at the ready. ___________________________
Glancing down at Iakob’s pistol, John frowned. Huh.. I guess your right Vrun. Back in the navy, black powder would be issued to the officers that carried firearms. Out here though, I’ll have to fend for myself. Clapping the Vrun on the shoulder, John smiles at the red-bearded dwarf. Once we get out of this mess, I’ll be happy to take you up on the offer. Outta curiosity what goes into black powder anyway? As the ex-marine waits for a response he turns his attention first to Sandra and then to Aaron. That’s a good suggestion Sandra. John states matter-of-factly. As for the actual trek, we have the charts we were able to salvage from the Promise and we have a pretty good fix on our location. I would also recommend that Aaron and I take turns breaking the trail. I think that Aaron is better at overland navigation then I am, but I’ve done my fair share. Between the two of us we should be able to keep from getting lost if we have to break off from the coast.
Turning back to Doran, John frowned slightly as his brow furrowed in thought. What little food the Man’s Promise had remaining had been stacked on deck along with the few personal belongings and salvageable supplies that could easily be transported to shore. Finally after a few moments, for the marine knew that time was of the essence he shook his head. No, I don’t believe there is anything else for us to do except, perhaps to give thanks to Besmara that the Promise survived long enough to deliver us to shore. Glancing towards the beach, John shrugged before trying to force a smile onto his face. I’m ready to be off; and who knows lads..? John said loudly raising his voice. I’m betting there’s a good chance we can get some fresh game tonight. The marine finished, raising a loud cheer from the tired crew.
She’s finished. John rumbled in his deep basso voice with its burr of Sousten lilt. Taking a bite from the ship’s biscuits that Ollivor had prepared, John noted how pruned his fingers had become from the past three days of almost endless hours spent in the bilge fighting to keep the Man’s Promise afloat. Hojo’s a miracle worker, between her and Aaron I don’t think we would have made it nearly so far, but we will be lucky to strike land. Taking a bite from the hard-tack biscuit with an unsatisfying crunch, John quickly washed it down with a swallow of water. If we are lucky we might be able to make it to Squibb’s, but there has to be some sort of lookout watching for ships that are inbound and frankly the idea of trying to sail into a hostile port while your ship is sinking and we are being peppered with crossbow bolts sounds dammed foolish to me. Nodding in Thorns general direction, John continued. I think that Thorn has a worthy suggestion. An overland march sounds dangerous, but we do have that token that we found on the island. We could probably use it to tow another raft behind it. I’m not sure of the Promise’s small boat, but we could use the pair together. Anyhow.. John paused looking towards Doran and hoping the Halfling would support his suggestion. I think we can all agree there’s no chance of salvaging the Promise , and our only hope of escaping from this place is going be by taking a replacement from Squibbs.
Warm water sloshed around John’s leg as he threw his weight down into the makeshift leverage with a final lurching heave. Water splashed around him as the long levered pole that had stood as a palm tree only a day before fell to the water with a spray of water. With a creak and bobbing wake caused by the Man’s Promise dislodging into the water the ship slipped free. Raising his fist in the air John pointed to the others. Up the ropes! Up the ropes! He called, slapping Crimson on the back, before grinning towards Sandra. Putting action to words, the red haired marine splashed forward along the briny, jagged surface of the reef before grabbing the nearest rope and hauling himself free of the water. On deck a riot of action was unfurling. Sails were being unfurled and a careful choreography of chaos was being danced for the ship’s crew. Below came the shouts from Hojo, while Sandra dodged two free rolling barrels shouting that those below needed more help. Ominously the Man’s Promise began to shutter and heel over. John gritted his teeth. The experienced sailor knew that there were three ways to deal with a list. The first and most simple was a redirection of weight from one side of the ship to the other. This would correct the list, but could prove problematic as the ship re-righted itself. The second option was tacking the sails in a way that cause the hull to favor one plane over another. Also useful, but entirely dependent on weather and that could be dangerous. The last option was one that Hojo had already begun to put her considerable talents towards. Plugging any holes and pumping the excess water over the side. Standing before the quarterdeck, John looked up. Doran held the ships wheel. He would know how to direct the wind and the keel where she needed to go. Nodding at the spry Halfling, John pointed toward the bilges. I’m going below. Once we plug the leak and start pumping overboard I’ll see about adjusting the ballast to even us up! Without waiting for a reply. John threw off his shirt, before smiling grimly to himself. He had expected a turn at the bilges, but perhaps not quite so soon. Shaking his head, John pushed his way down into the darkness below. Luck be dammed. John thought, feeling the strength in his arms as he landed down in the slowly flooding bilges with a grunt, before grabbing oakum, a plugging cone and a mallet. Clear the gap! John called, pushing himself towards into the spraying water, under Hojo’s cool gaze. Stuffing the hempen material into the gap, John wedged a cone into the crevasse that gushing foul smelling water. Holding the mallet with slick fingers, John slammed the cone in place. That’s one.. the marine muttered looking over his shoulder. Only twenty or thirty more to go.
The information I provided came from Isle's of the Shackles Campaign Setting Book. The only change was the mention about Hell's Harbor and who controlled it. In cannon it is listed as under the control of Arronyx Endymion, but that has not happened in this game as Arronyx is still loyal to Cheliax. I also dropped in some NPC's and ships for DM Barcas to use if he wanted to for foreshadowing.
Hunched over the chart of the Shackles next to Doran, John traced a finger over the sea-salt stained paper while peering at the captain's log. So Hojo say's that we have a few days before the bildge's won't be able to keep up with the progressive flooding. Looking past the table and through the bubble filled glass that comprised the aft of the cabin and allowed light to stream in, John grunted to himself. It's going to be an all hands affair. Keeping enough on deck to work the lines for best speed while manning the bilges. Hard work.. little sleep.. Nodding to himself, John tapped at the captains log, drawing Doran's eye to it. So we need to make our course to the south-east if we want to head to Rickety Squibbs. Do you agree? Pointing on the chart towards Tempest Cay and their estimated fix, John gestures to it with a thick finger tapping on the the inscribed purple and black blotch on the chart that represents the Eye of Abendego. It makes sense.. the blow we had, now that we know where we are. The area around Tempest Cay is known for its storms since it is the closest inhabited island leeward of the Eye and tends to get the most blow-off. From what I remember of during my briefings, the island is ruled by one of the members of the Pirate Council of the Shackles. I don't know his name, but he is called the "Master of Gales" and his ship is a black painted xebec called the Kraken. There's a large city on the island too.. goes by the lovely name of Drenchport but I doubt it would be very welcoming for us. Though of the four closest settlement's, Drenchport is probably the safest destination outside of Squibb's. Picking up the compass that lay on the chart table, John turned with it making sure that it was holding true. Once we sight Tempest Cay we could keep the island off our starboard and continue south. Running his finger again along the map, John traces it south, past Tempest Cay towards towards Widowmaker Isle. South of Tempest Cay lay's Widowmaker Island and Whyrlis Rock. There is a narrow strait between the two islands that I think would be our best chance to cut distance off a longer, northern course. With the wind at our back's from the Eye we should still maintain a good speed, but if the Man's Promise begins to break up early, both Widowmaker Isle and Whrlis Rock are populated, though neither are particularly pleasant. The largest settlement on Widowmakers Isle is Arena. It's a vacation town of sorts for the wealthiest of the Shackles. People say that anything can be gambled on in Arena, and from what I have heard, gladiatorial slave matches are supposed to be popular. The current ruler of the city is a woman by the name of One-Eyed Aethyl and when I sailed down here last with the Navy, I heard there was a bounty on her head for eight thousand gold eagles after she captured an Andoran cog and forced the crew and passengers to fight for her amusement during the Carnival of Kurgess. Shaking his head sadly, John's hand formed into a fist. He felt the anger inside of him welling up. Taking a deep breath, John blew it out slowly. I knew one of the sailors that died there. We sailed together when I was first in the Navy. Bad business. Turning away from Doran and the chart for a moment, John took a sip of water. It was hot in the cabin, the ex-marine knew that it would cool down once the ship was off the reef and a good breeze would catch, but for the moment, John could feel the drops of sweat dripping down his forehead. Turning back to the halfling, John smiled before motioning back to the planning of the journey. On the other side of the strait from Widowmaker Isle is Whrlis Rock. All I have heard about the place is stories, and most of them ain't good. I know that the Andoran navy kept a wide berth from the island and I doubt it had to do much with the reputation because standing orders were to engage the Cloudbuster's Dream on sight. As if in explanation, John taps on the chart. The Dream is a barkentine that is commanded by Alahandra Boisich, a slaver captain who also rules the only settlement on the island, Chalk Harbor. It's a mining town that is manned by slave labor captured during Boisich's raids. Trailing off, John rubbed his nose before staring back down at the chart. So with a reputation like that, you would assume that Andoran would have an interest in Whrlis Rock. But the odd thing is, they don't. The only reason I can think of why is the rumors that two other towns once existed on the island before Chalk Harbor was "founded". The stories go that the island was first settled by the Pirate Lord Baillie Heskott years ago. He named his settlement Heskott Bay. Then.. suddenly the town disappeared. Old salt's say that any ships that moor up in Heskott Bay for an overnight anchorage can hear the sounds of a bustling city fading in and out, intermittently accompanied by screams of terror. Frowning to himself, John continued. If that was not bad enough, six months later another town was built on the island. This one was called Norboro. This town is still there. Apparently you can see it on the bluffs if you look with a long-glass. But now sailors have a new name for the place. Norboro Ash. All the building, all the people are still there, so the story goes. But everything, wood, stone, people. They were all transformed one night into hardened ash like something left behind from a volcano. Frowning to himself, John stabs at Whrlis Rock with his finger. All things aside, I think it's best if we keep moving south through the strait. Once we do, we can navigate along the southern coast of Devil's Arch's, avoiding Hell's Harbor and make best speed towards Rickety Squibbs. Hell's Harbor is on the northern coast of Devil's Arch's. It's a large town, or as large as you are going to get in the Shackles outside of Port Peril. I think it would be best if we keep a wide distance. Hell's Harbor used to be a Chelaxian Naval Base. I'm not sure who controls the city right now, but it is a major port to attack shipping traffic skirting the coast and in our condition we are going to be seen as prey. Running his index finger one final time past the southern coast of Hell's Harbor John nods before tapping the western coast of the Terwa Uplands that make up the mountainous, jungle region of Garund split between the Shackles and the Mwangi Expanse. From there we cross one final body of water and we can reach Squibbs. What do you think Doran?
*smiles* I watched an episode of Firefly a couple of nights ago. It was the one where the crew defends the whore house and Mal finds out that Innara has feeling for him. Such a shame that the series ended. I still want to use the quote from mal.. "We have done the impossible, and that makes us mighty." Such a good line. Anyhow, I read the stuff in the discussion thread and the proposal that Barcas fielded and then Doran's idea. I think it's a good compromise. After your suggestion about diving authority, I went back and read some historical references from Pirate Crew Roles. Some of the things mentioned.. "Pirates didn't trust authority and therefore saw no reason to let all the power of a ship rest on one man." Other ideas or random thoughts. Anyhow, just some random thoughts.
The following is some material as presented in Pirates of the Inner Sea, I think that it is worth looking over right now since it may apply to us. Ships cannot function without order and structure. Every captain has her own preferred rules and enforces those edicts in different ways. While the rules may vary from ship to ship, pirates as a group have developed general codes of conduct. When pirates capture an enemy ship, they sometimes offer the crew a choice: join the pirates’ crew, or face slavery or death. A crew willing to turn pirate must sign or swear to a code of conduct. Some articles of a code of conduct mention the most common punishment to be delivered if a sailor breaks a specific rule. Others leave such matters to the captain’s discretion. Punishments include whippings, being put ashore at port, marooning, keelhauling, and death—naturally, vicious and criminal captains tend to gravitate toward more sadistic punishments. A pirate put ashore at port is dismissed in a loud and obvious manner, so word soon spreads of her disgrace, inhibiting her ability to sign on with a new crew. Marooning involves putting a pirate ashore on a deserted island with nothing but a canteen of water and a knife. These islands are often tiny, with little vegetation and practically no animal life. Marooned pirates face a slow death by starvation, or a quick death through suicide. Keelhauling is the practice of running a long rope underneath a boat and tying the offending pirate to one end. The pirate is then dragged overboard and under the ship, which is often encrusted with a coat of sharp-edged barnacles. If the pirate is dragged quickly, the rapid passage along the barnacles results in deep cuts and occasionally limb loss or complete decapitation. In contrast, by pulling slower, the crew can allow the offending pirate to sink farther and avoid most risk of lacerations, but this greatly increases the risk of drowning. Pirates killed at sea are most frequently stabbed and unceremoniously thrown overboard, where they are devoured by the sharks that tend to follow boats. Another, more theatrical execution style involves binding and sometimes weighting down the condemned sailor, then forcing her to step off into the sea and drown—the infamous “walking the plank.” Most ships adhere to elements of the sample codes presented below, with captains picking and choosing as befits their individual inclinations. Pirates Code
Privateer’s Code
Shipboard Conduct
*nod* Barcas, Thorn and I all discussed several different potential paths that the campaign could take while still following the spirit of the AP over a lunch. What I wrote up is one of the paths that was talked about for possible development. It allows us to still be the good guys, follow the AP and continue several story arcs.
Standing on the golden sand, John listened quietly as Rosie's song trailed off. The first had been mournful and lilting. It reminded John of the way that she had played for Iakob as John had finished sewing up his friend during the funeral. The second song with its quick pace and furious, rapid melody seemed to tug at John's anger and frustration, that had now abated in the relief of Pluggs death. Smiling half to himself, John shook his head. By the gods did it feel good to see Plugg dead. It was like a weight off his chest. The idealistic man that John had once been found a questioning hesitation at those emotions. During battles against slavers, John had taken pride in his duty. He had accepted that there were terrible men who would subjugate and overpower anything or anyone that they could for their own profit. But the man that John was now, the one that had lost his leg and found a bottle while teetering at the edge of despair before finding himself and his newly reclaimed faith, did not care. Plugg was a bastard. He would have taken anything and everything he could. He was a mad dog who would have eventually killed me, Thorn and everyone else that had not proved useful to him. I'm glad he's dead. John thought shoving the reclaimed driftwood wand into his sash. Already near to Rosie, John smiled at the woman before his eyes settled on the bloody oar that she had used to devastating effect. As Doran spoke in hafling, John's eyes flickered between the man and woman, questioning. Halfling was a language that John had never managed to learn. Actually if the sailor was being honest, he had never managed to learn any other language. Shrugging to himself, John waited until Doran had broken off before nodding in thanks to the woman. The songs were good. I liked the second one, though I did not understand it. You'll have to tell me the words sometime. Turning towards Doran and Sandra, John nods at the wisdom of Rosie's words before waving Aaron over. Rosie is right. John said at once. The people that sided with us should be buried, but I have some concerns about the creatures that inhabit the island. At Rosie's questioning look, John shrugs. It's a long story and we can explain later. But long story short, I'm worried about leaving Plugg and Scourge's body out for the shellbacks. Aaron, do you have any idea if the creatures have to take control of living creatures, or can they use dead bodies too? Because right now I am thinking that a bonfire might be the best route. Waiting for a response from Aaron, John trails off. There was still the issue of command. Someone would have to lead. John had already voiced his thoughts on the subject, though only to the inner core of the mutineers. A captain is needed, just as a fair set of articles of agreement are needed. Imagine a ship without a captain, being run by the crew. Can there be any unity or organization upon a ship? John shook his head. No, despite the well meaning of it's crew, there will be disagreements and strife. A single, strong voice must hold sway, else, out of the best intentions, multiple hands will grasp for control of the helm and veer the endeavor off course at the worst possible moment. Nodding emphatically to Doran and the others, John rose his voice. Doran is right, we need to get off of the island. But let me tell you my plan. We effect repairs as best we can to the Man's Promise. We all know that she is not seaworthy for long, but I believe it will be long enough. Once we free her from being held fast, we make best possible speed for Rickty Squibbs. Pointing north, towards the horizon, before glancing at the sun to determine his elevation, John turns back to the group. Scuttbutt is that slaves are sold at Squibbs. Harrigan also split off some of his crew from the Wormwood to pilot the Empty Lighthouse to there. That means two things for me. One Squibbs is free game and two, we are in for a fight. I plan for us to take the Empty Lighthouse back. I want to free any slaves there in the process. After that, if all goes according to plan, I think we should sail for Augustana in Andoran. Looking to the nameless captives that had been taken from the Rahdoumi slaver, John points. We promised you freedom, and I mean to keep that promise. In Andoran you will be given the chance to start a new life if you so wish! Andoran Law also provides a bounty for each slave liberated. Also, and more then that, we know that the Chellish Navy is working with the Shackles Pirates. Thanks to Aaron, we also know that Admiral Endymion and the Hellsmouth also dealt with some internal strife with the Infernus. With this information in hand and my contacts in the Andoran Navy, I believe I can obtain us a Writ of Privateering. This will give us a safe harbor and legal protection. Nodding to himself, John clinches his fist. Then I want to come back here. Armed with our writ, we will find out what truly happened between the Hellsmouth and the Infernus. We will find out why Admiral Endymion is working with the Harrigan and the Wormwood and investigate the threat of the Makaru. Just as Doran and I worked up the plan with him to lead a double life pretending to be loyal, I mean for us to do the same thing with the Empty Lighthouse. With our writ, we go after any ships that fly a flag that condones slavery; Cheliax, Absalom, Jalmeray, Katapesh, Molthune, Osirion, Qadira, Rahadoum, Sargava and the Shackles. We fly the Jolly Roger, and in the process we do some good. Growing quiet for a moment, John turns to the group. That is my plan. Each of us have been affected by slavery in our own way. I want to do something to stop it. That's why I want to be captain.
Reforging the rapier seems to be the best use of the weapon. I would hate to see something like that go to waste and it makes sense. As far as the voting/naming of captain goes, I'm onboard with the plan for the NPC's. Just like Ollivor said and what we agreed upon during our hike upto Aaron's cabin.. everyone would have a chance to vote for the captain of the ship and the Articles of Agreement would be signed by the new crew. DM Barcas, how much are you planning to use advanced naval combat rules? I know this has not been brought up before, but it's worth asking since we are getting closer to having a ship.
That's a good question Doran.. Plugg and Scourge had the following gear: +1 keen rapier
Plugg's coat present's a bit of a problem, since it's only 2AC.. I suppose I could see Ollivor getting the most use out of it since the +1 from the coat would stack with his mage armor and it is only a 5% spell failure. That's the only thing I can think of for that item. I would like Iakob's pistol.. mostly for roleplay reasons, but John will occasionally use it. I know it will never be as good as a bow, but thematically it is cool. Plugg's +1 keen rapier is a pretty amazing weapon. Two players here have weapon finesses and that is Aaron and Doran. Of the two, I think Aaron would get the most out of it, since it is medium sized and Doran does d8's with daggers. I know it's not as good for him as a Wakizashi, but it's pretty close. Scourge's +1 studded leather. Aaron, Thorn and Doran are all good candidates for it. Because Doran will need to get into combat and Thorn is usually at range with his bow, I think the studded leather would be better for him. This assumes that Aaron takes the rapier and the armor can be resized. The potion of cure moderate wounds could go to anyone except for John since he carries the wand. Scourge's +1 whip. No one in the group uses whip's so this is a bit of a wash. It's an exotic weapon as well so that complicates thing. I suspect our best candidate at the moment would actually be Sandra since she is a cleric of Calistria and can use the whip since it is her goddesses favored weapon. Anyhow, that's just my brainstorming ideas off the cuff.
Heaving a sigh of relief, John raised his cutlass in victory. His side burned with pain, but he knew that he still had a other things to deal with. Besides he knew pain. He lived with it each day thanks to the loss of his leg. Looking to the ocean, John noted that with the violence abated the waves returned from its crimson red back to its sea foam green. In his black sash Iakob's pistol rested, the butt jutting out within quick reach. Is everyone alright? John called, wandering through the throng of survivors that stood along the shore, each in various states of recovery. Eye's running along the shoreline, John's gaze came to rest upon the shattered hull of the Man's Promise. During the groups approach it appeared that she was more broken than whole and the repair to the mast was poor at best. The marine had been afraid of that. Sighing to himself, the former Andoran sailor nodded in mute acceptance. Winning back their freedom had only been the first step. John knew that despite the bloody confrontation on the beach, the mutineers still had to escape the island. Coming to a decision, John's weathered eye took note of the remaining members of the ship's company, before turning towards Rosie. Stomping towards her, John nodded affectionately. Rosie, John stated, clapping a hand on the stout halfling's shoulder. Thanks for standing with us. I knew I could count on you. Frowning in thought, John ran a thumb along the pommel of his cutlass that hung opposite of Iakob's pistol. What happened to Hojo, Jax and Arutro? John asked worriedly. He knew that Hojo's skill in carpentry would be essential in the next few hours of they had any chance of refloating the Man's Promise in any sort of seaworthy condition. As John waited for a reply, he turned back to the core group of the mutineers: Vrunyar, Doran, Ollivor, Thorn and Aaron. Nodding to each of them, John smiled gruffly. That was an amazing shot with your bow, Thorn. John stated quietly. I'm not mad, for what its worth. After Rickard's first attack almost gutted me, I was glad for all the help I could get. Face softening, John grinned at Doran. And after what you did Doran, I don't think there will be any question among the crew that you were never loyal to Plugg and his brother. As John chuckled to himself, he felt a wave of pain roll through his stomach. Gritting his teeth, the red-headed marine dug out the Gozrehan driftwood wand and sought out the inner furnace of anger that seemed to have softened, yet still thrummed with power.
Feeling a shock of sweet, cane-rum and hearing the sound of clinking coins splashing into the sea. John sighed in relief. The sensation was over in a moment, but the lasting burn of the rum seemed to linger for a brief second before it too abated. Looking at Vrunyar, Thorn and Aaron who seemed to have the worst of the remaining injuries, John motioned to the wand. Any of you just say the words.. John stated trailing off. As the man waited for the others to respond, John pointed with his left hand towards the silhouette of the Man's Promise. She looks in bad shape. John stated quietly. But I'm hoping that she will hold together. I've been thinking about this since last night. Plugg was stupid, but he had a plan. I know onboard the Promise there will be charts, a sextant and compass. Doran and I know a bit of navigation so we should be able to make a fix without too much difficulty. That will give us a point to start with. It was also no real secret that the Promise was supposed to head towards Rickety Sqibbs.. the same place that Harrigan sent the Empty Lighthouse before we got blown onto the reef. Nodding to himself, John scratches his chin. Hopefully the Promise is in better shape than it looks and Hojo managed to work a miracle. But if thats not the case, I think our backup plan should be to head towards Rickety's and see about taking back the Lighthouse, what say you all?.
The blood colored sea rolled into the shore with a silent crash. Along the beach the two sides, those loyal to Plugg and those loyal to the original crew of the Empty Lighthouse fought. With blades, fists and tools the two groups clashed with a terrible savageness. On the beach the core members of the mutiny surrounded Scourge. In John's hand was the pistol that he swore he would use to end Plugg's last moments. To the burly marines starboard, Owlbear fell to his knees in fear. His back had been splattered with tar and covered with feathers. It was cruel gesture and spiteful. It was also tragic. John roared as Scourge abandoned his one chance at life. John knew it was more than the man deserved and it was more than he had promised at the start of the battle. Nodding to Doran, John watched the halfling dart in the sand towards the mute and plunge one of his daggers into the man's spine. Ollivor was the first to voice his congratulation, but the spiteful, angry part of John's soul felt the need to drive the dagger a little further. Aye Scourge.. Doran was never on your side. From the moment we were taken capture we planned this. The hatred and anger between us.. all of it was an act. All of it was planned for a moment like this. A little trust Scourge... a little goes a long way. The less you had trusted, the further you and your bastard brother would have gone. John cried out while driving forward with his falchion in a chopping downward stroke. Scourge with eyes wide screamed in fear. He raised his arm to block the blow. John's anger could not be denied. The blade whistled as it cleaved downward, first through Scourges arm and then deep through his clavicle and into the man's lungs. Scourge screamed with his last remaining breath. The ex-marine knew that Plugg's whip-wielding brother was finished. He had seconds left. The was only one thing left to do. Leaving Scourge wheezing in the sand, pinned to the ground with his falchion. John breathed out slowly. The beach had gone silent. John looked to his right and behind him where Plugg lay motionless twenty feet away. John reached for his friends pistol. Stomping his way through the sand with his awkward gait, John took each step with determination. The sand around Plugg had become the same color as the waves that rolled in. John knew that somehow all of this was fitting. It was not right but it was just. Reaching down with his massive strength John gripped Rickard by the back of his torn shirt and pulled. The motion made his stomach scream in pain. He would deal with that eventually but it wouldn't kill him in the next five minutes and that was all that mattered. With slow laborious steps John drug the dying man along the beach. As he did so, a groove was formed in the sand, made smooth and red by the passage of the pirate. First five then ten and then twenty feet, John pulled Plugg so that he could see the last moments of his brother. Barely conscious, John grabbed the back of Plugg's shirt again, lifting up the bald man's head so that he could look upon his brother. Leaning down, another stab of pain rolled through the marines gut. It was getting harder and harder to ignore it. Lips next to Plugg's ear, John whispered furiously. Do you see that Plugg? Do you see that you bastard?! You murdered Iakob! You did that! And you did this too! Your brother is dead because of you! The ocean continued to roll in with its silent crashing of crimson waves. Somewhere, out there, John knew that Iakob watched at this moment. Grunting in pain, John forced himself to his feet. He clamped a hand on Plugg's shoulder and stood behind him while reverently withdrawing Iakob's pistol from the black sash that had once belong to Riki. He pulled the hammer back with his thumb with a *click* as he remembered his oath. This is for you my friend. John thought mournfully as he stared down at the forms of the two murderous brothers that lay dead and dying. John knew it was a poor trade. Iakob had been a better man than John ever way. The death of a hundred pirates, Harrigan and Endymion would not have been enough to balance the worth of his friends life. But it was a good place to start. Seagulls cawed overhead. John felt the sweat running down his spine. He looked to the ocean and to the sky. He knew that Besmara watched this moment just as Iakob did. John nodded to himself. He pulled the trigger.
John's blood ran down his side mixing into the sand. It mixed with Plugg's blood. The man lay dying at his feet. Thorn's arrows had struck solid and true. Plugg wheezed, clutching at the arrow in his neck while his other hand reached for Iakob's pistol. John grimaced and bit down on his teeth. As a soldier, John knew that he needed to focus on the battle at hand, not the vengeance that his heart-longed for and the desire he had prayed to Besmara for. As a man however, John wanted to snatch up his dear friends pistol and end Plugg. In the back of his head a cruel whisper arose to the surface. He had the reclaimed wand. John had the power. He could save Plugg. He could save the man.. only to look him in the eye as he killed him. John's hand twitched. To his left, the ex-marine heard a bestial roar like something out of a nightmare. John had to decide. His hand twitched again. His friends were still in danger. John roared, snatching up Iakob's pistol from the weak and failing grip of Plugg. Tearing it from the man's hands, Plugg groaned in pain, rolling weakly on the ground. John didn't care about the man's pain. If the gods were just this would only be a second in the eternity of suffering that the man was due. Running towards Scourge, John glanced back at Plugg and then towards Scourge, John leveled the pistol at the mute, whip wielding man. John cried, sighting the man with his friends pistol. Rickard took my brother in arms. Now we have taken yours. Give up! Throw down your weapon and I will see you marooned on this island. It is a better fate then you deserve. Continue to fight and join your brother in hell! This is your only chance!
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