SD Sandara Quinn's page

"Ye all took the risks. I be after me own ship one day, but that don't be this ship and it don't be any time soon so ye can be captain an' first mate with me full support, sirs."
"I've heard there's a seedy, isolated dry dock on the Slithering Coast west o' Bloodcove called Rickety's Squibs. For a price, ol' Rickety Hake completely refits ships into “squibs,” providing new identities by changing ships' lines, silhouettes, and general appearance t' be unrecognisable t' their former owners or anyone else familiar with them."

"On th' waters known as th' Fever Sea, furious nature, canoe-bound cannibals, an' th' merciless greed o' deadly pirate lords unite in a tidal crush o' danger an' despair. From th' Eye o' Abendego, these dangerous waters slither south along th' jungle coasts o' Garund, encompassing th' whole o' th' Shackles an' numerous islands beyond. Upon hundreds o' treacherous islands an' beneath uncarin' waves sprawl th' huntin' grounds o' primeval hunters, th' ruins o' foul Ghol-Gan, th' secrets o' strange an' ancient magic, and th' corpses o' generation after generation o' explorers, imperialists, an' pirates who failed t' claim th' treasures o' these rich waters. Upon th' maps o' leaders across Avistan, th' Fever Sea looks like a path t' incredible riches, choked only by th' Shackles an' th' Eye o' Abendego. Those who ply its waves, however, know it fer what it be: a sea o' ancient mysteries, hungry terrors, weird legends, unscrupulous sailors, an' boundless ambitions — which be to say, a pirate’s paradise."

Sandara nods at Lysandra. "No problems. 'Tisn't goin' be easy. Thar be few differences 'tween press gang and slave. But differences thar be, an' Besmara smiles on those that make their own fortune. I be thinkin' she's plans for the likes 'f us. Thar anythin' in particular ye be wantin' back? I can promise naught, but I'll keep an eye open."

"Sure, bring us a chest o' gold," sneers Aretta.

"They ain't yours no more. Cut-Throat has everything. She's the ship's quartermaster, but she says everything belongs to the cap'n. She'll sell it to yer for a goin' price. But she ain't the sharpest spear in th' rack an ye can sometimes bring 'er round."

"I know enough 'bout boats t' avoid th' whip when I focus on their work. An' th' lashes heal. Their other punishments are more severe, though that's th' first keelhauling I ever saw."

"Dunno 'bout attackin' vessels. Been here less than a week. Figure they'd have to arm us, unless th' officers do the fighting while we... dunno."
"And thanks for the mutual protection. I learned right smart to avoid trouble, but there's so much aboard the Wormwood ye're never truly safe. Even the quiet ones." She looks sympathetically to Lysandra.

"Sandara Quinn, Cleric o' Besmara from Hell Harbour, at yer service. All I got were the holy symbol an' the book. I didn' steal 'em: I ain't intendin' ta join Jakes Magpie. Cut-Throat gave 'em ta me after a bit o' hagglin'. She takes 'er job serious like, but she can be reasoned with. Besides, I 'elp 'er, she 'elps me. Ye can't 'ave too many friends on a pirate ship. Let's just say I'm not Scourge's favourite at the moment an' indeed, I could use some friends ta watch me back. An' since ye lot so endeared yerselves to 'im, I figure we c'n arrange somethin'."
(Sandara's attitude is helpful)

"Whoa. I couldn't care if ye were a troll or a sphinx. It jus' ain't bright standing up to th' likes o' Plugg and Scourge when they got the officers and the crew behind 'em an' ye got nought. They're gonna make yer life miserable, not 'cause ye're an orc- they's got Jaundice Jake already- but 'cause ye defied them. Trouble 'n misery'll find ye easy enough without ye havin' ta look fer it.
It's everyone fer 'emselves 'ere: ain't no one gonna look out fer ye unless ye're looking out fer them."

"Yours?" Sandara looks to the others, shrugs and hands Mata his book. "No offence, ye jus' didn't strike me as th' reading type."

Sandara Quinn moves easily between the bodies towards you.
"Avast, and welcome aboard," she smiles wryly. "Apart from the holy symbol, I also got a book from ol' Cut-Throat. She doesn't trust 'em. Belong to one o' ye?"

"Aye, aye, sir, Mister Plugg, sir."
She pulls out an ebony holy symbol, adorned with a skull and crossbones, and rushes to kneel over Sevien.
A wash of positive energy soothes over you all, closing wounds and mending bruises.
(Heal 2d6 ⇒ (3, 1) = 4hp)