Sandara Quinn's page

Everyone made the massive DC 10 Acrobatics check!

Crewmates both fall and swarm out of their hammocks making their way above decks.

Sandara comes rushing down from above, soaked from head to toe, barely keeping gait with the roiling ship.

"Storm!! A bad one too!! Seijiro, we've got troubles up in the ropes and they need help now!! The rest of ye, come with me! This ship may be a Hellhole, but it ain't gonna be our grave if we have somethin' t'say fer it!" The priestess looks up towards deck anxiously as water flows down the stairs. "Shit." she swears as she starts making her way back up.

"Well, your little group, 'specially you, Ned, have managed to make Plugg hate ye even more. Impressive for only a few days aboard. Truth be told, I only figured ye'd have Scourge's ire." she smirks. "Luckily fer you all, Harrigan's forbade any sort of killin' amongst his crew, with the punishment being a keelhaulin', so he can't do anythin' too forward, but I'd keep eyes on the back of me head if I were ye all."

"Miss Cusswell, always a pleasure." Sandara says with a sly smirk and a tip of her hat. "Come t'join our little party?"

Sandara nods to Jasmine. "Most of us were pressed an' have no loyalty t'Harrigan and his officers beyond fear. Some of the pirates here are good men an' women just under hard circumstances. They'll take Lucky's mercy as a good thing an' it'll raise him in their eyes. Others'll take it as a sign o' weakness. Any choice be a double edged blade onboard a ship like this." She looks up to the sky and purses her lips. "Looks like a storm may be rollin' in a few days."

Amerdan believes that it will be much sooner than a few days judging from the look of the sky as the sun sets.

"That'd be a mighty fine idea." she says as she takes a puff from her pipe then tips the tobbacco out into the sea. "An' the look on Plugg's face was worth the beatin' ye took, Seijiro. I'm just sorry I din't get to ye fast enough t'bring ye back sooner so ye could have seen it."

The Besmaran priestess moves over to Seijiro and says a prayer to her goddess, filling the kitsune with the Pirate Queen's healing grace.

2d8 + 5 ⇒ (3, 7) + 5 = 15 healing for Seijiro

"Quite a lump ye took there, lad. Lucky 'Owlbear' din' break yer neck with that hit." she says with a smirk then turns her attention to Ned. "Nice fight. Yer even still on yer feet, somehow. Don't happen often when the First Mate sends his pet t'teach the new bloods a lesson from what I've heard."

She pulls out her ever-present pipe and lights it up.

Grok doesn't care about how you got the item, pirates are always gambling something or other away, and she'll buy any weapons and equipment you find at 50% market value. Unfortunately there are no quills or inkwells available at the Quartermaster's area. You get the impression that such things are valuable for writing out pilot logs and marking charts so the officers would snag them first.

@Ned: It's the evening so your duties are over for now.

"Gallant, 'specially fer someone offerin' to watch two lovely ladies lay." she laughs merrily and lights her pipe. "I do appreciate yer offer, the fear o' the Pirate Queen only deters most, some are jest plain mad." she shrugs.

Sandara leans down towards him, with a playful smirk on her face and picks up a bucket, dumping its contents (thankfully sea water) over the cheeky priest's head.

"Aye, but methinks I'll be tossin' this one back t'the sea.", she looks over at Amerdan. "Poor fish be gaspin' fer seawater." she laughs in good fun and helps Ned to his feet. "Ye're a sly one Ned, thought ye were unconscious from the pain when ye were just tryin' t' steal a kiss. This ship's harder to board then that but the prize be well worth it."

She takes a look at Jasmine's wound. "'Tis infected. I can help, but I'd 'ave to keep a close eye on ye. All night." she says with a wink. She pats the cutlass on her hip "Nay, lass' but thank ye fer the offer."

I've houseruled Besmara's weapon to be the cutlass instead of the rapier, which is why she can wield one.

Ned sighs, sad that the redhaired priestess seemed to miss the fine points of his "weather" speech.

Well, looking death in the eyes makes a man thirsty for the simple pleasures of life. If you don't have any further use for me, Sandara my love, I'll get to know the crew.

He actually was trying to "influence" Sandara to share a night together, but he's not half the Don Juan he thinks he is.
Alchemical Bonus to Charisma: 1d4
Fatigue duration in hours: 1d8
Constitution damage 1d3
Fortitude to resist addiction, DC 5 1d20+3

Sandara winks and blows him a kiss. "Aye, 'tis not a bad idea t'make yerself some friends aboard, s'pecially with the way Scourge was lookin' at ye earlier. Man is as easy t'read as the stars an' he don't like the cut o' yer jib." She blows some smoke into the air and waves at Ned merrily.

Well if trouble ain't brewing it's cause the situation ain't bad enuff. I'll drink to that., although the second he raises his cup and smells the drink he lets go of that idea, eyeing the contents suspiciously.

Now what's a windsinger-

Ned cuts his question short and smiles when he sees the "romantic" gesture.

Aye, it ain't no bettter matchmaker than the wide sea, there ain't no better romance than tight quarters. Enjoy it while ya can, lubbers, no one knows what tide the next mornin' may bring. One day may be rollin' waves and gentle wind the next a raging sea and a vengeful storm. You gotta enjoy every good weather while it lasts. Ain't that right, Sandara my love?

When he finishes he gently touches his hand to the redhaired sailor's far shoulder.

"Aye, ye must. 'Tis easier when ye still have yer fingers t'work thought." she says, but with mirth and no threat in her tone. We've been blessed by fair weather these past few days, on and off ship, but t'will not last. Time comes when Gozreh'll decide to throw us around and remind us all who is the real master of the sea."[/b]

"It's not." Sandara says as she taps some tobacco into her pipe. "And best ye remeber it. Harrigan's an old hand at the sea and not one, twelve or all of us could hope ta wrestle the ship from him an' his officers without all endin' up skewered or keelhaul'd."

"Fine manners on a pirate." Sandara replies, her eyes twinkling in merriment. "An' a fellow servant of the Pirate Queen no less? My, my.. small ocean, innit?" she laughs and motions Grok over to give Ned a cup of grog.

"Takin' it right from the source is stealin', an' theft can be punished by keelhaulin' dependin' on where ye do it, so is better to ask the quartermaster here. As much as ye want.", she lowers her voice. "Though I'd keep it to one half-pint if I were ye."

Sandara seems open and trustworthy.

A red-headed woman approaches the newcomer as the crew moves off to their respective groups. "Well, another lost soul come aboard the Wormwood. Well met, I'm Sandara Quinn, this is Jasmine,", she points towards the elf, "Seijiro,", she motions towards the sailor that helped Ned up, "And Amerdan." she motions to the bearded man. "What's yer name?"

Sandara laughs merrily.

"Aye, ye both be right. I'm gonna go try my luck at dice tonight. Maybe make a few coins off these good lads n' lasses." she tips her hat to the group and makes her way off to another group of pirates.

We can call that a day unless anyone else has RP to do.

Sandara thinks for a moment.

"Might be, might be. The worm made a pass at me t'night before ye all arrived. I show'd him my response with my fist an' he hasn't been fond of me since but that's a man for ye.", she winks.

"Maybe he's just a bastard and there's nothin' else behind it." She turns towards Amerdan. "Harrigan? A vicious, an' very dangerous Free Captain of the Shackles. Scourge is a soddin' cur but he an Plugg keep us little people in line which means he's at least good at his job." she rolls her eyes.

Amerdan stares at her dumbfounded.So much for that idea... The witch lowers his head in a gesture of apology.

"I didn't mean to offend."

Over a hundred gallons? Bloody pirates.

She smiles and lights her pipe. "No offense meant, none taken." she replies, even a little unsure as to her reaction.

She looks around and moves closer. "Word is that Scourge's taken a special dislike t'ye four. Not sure what's got 'im riled up but I heard Sy talkin', said that the boatswain put 'em up to tryin' to keep ye all down in the hold before mornin' bell.", she takes a pull from her pipe. "That's just what I heard though, could just be smoke in the wind fer all I know. Any reason why he'd have it out fer ye all?"

Amerdan looks up at Sandara for a moment before looking down at the otter once more.

"Yes, 'or something.'"

When his rum rations comes round, he tries to dump it. He was already fatigued when he had some the day before, but now that he's responsible for another life, he realizes that he has to keep his wits about him aboard the Wormwood.

Stealth check: 1d20+2 YES!

After discreetly disposing of his rations, he stares into his now empty cup, wondering how long he can keep this up.

Looking back to Sandara once more he asks in hushes whispers, "Sandara, what do you think would happen if the Wormwood ran out of rum?"

He'll try to influence her in the process with a Diplomacy check: 1d20-1

...crap

She starts at helpful, so she's helpful to everyone but Amerdan who somehow managed to insult her.

She quirks and eyebrow and gets a funny look on her face, as if the tone you were using was somehow insulting, or if the question came across as incredibly naive.

"I think that the crew would get angry, but that won't happen anytime soon. We've got over a hundred gallons of the stuff on board."

Sorry busy day and internet was out last night.

"My, my ain't the Capt'n's boys imaginative. M'name's Allysen, the cook's mate."

Allysen comes by after she's finished helping dole out supper.

"Allysen! Looks like ye survived another shift in the galley. How'd it go?"

Since your turn was missed (sorry), I'll let you take two ship's actions if you so choose without penalty. You spent the day fishing with Kroop and must make a DC 10 Profession (fisherman) or Survival check to provide enough fish for the meal.

Amerdan keeps to himself at dinner as he usually does, but he is attentive to the conversation as he divides his proportionately between himself and his new familiar. The strangeness of how pristine the animal's cage was germinates in his mind.

"Interestin' critter ye have there. Can't say I've seen him on the ship before. Strange that. Find him swimmin' by the ship or somethin'?"

"If she wishes th' healin', Besmara provides for her own. Thought I'd introduce 'Cog' here to ye's. I happened to come across Scourge layin' into him before the 'Bloody Hour'. Lucky fer Cog I was there to keep him from twisting the lil' parasite's head off and gettin' himself keelhauled."

Dusk falls and the bell tolls, another day passes and none of the party members have felt Scourge's lash, much to his growing annoyance. Tilly Brackett decided to slack off at her job and was caught by Scourge who whips her into unconsciousness during the 'Bloody Hour'.

Sandara once again makes her way to the group, this time with Crimson Cogward.

"Evenin' again, ladies and gents. Fair wind and full sail today?" she says as she tips her hat.

"Aye, very familiar. Guess 'Arrigan was only lookin' fer the young an' dumb."

Allsen chuckles a little at the self-deprecating joke.

"Sorry if I offended ye, none was meant."

She lowers her voice and looks around. "Truth be told, Allysen... I don't think that Cap'n Harrigan was very choosy 'bout who he picked. Anyone'd do s'long as ye drank the poisoned rum or looked vulnerable. His ship be hurtin' for crew. Most of these lads 'n lasses ain't been on the ship more than a few months an' have all been pressed into service. 'Cept fer the officers." She taps her pipe a few times. "Must have run into some back luck 'fore." She stands up. "Been a pleasure talkin' with ye, Allysen. I have some gold to win from Sy in a game of 'liar's dice'.", she looks over to the group of Scourge's cronies. "Try t'enjoy yer eve', lass, 'less ye want ta join?"

Allysen, are you taking any ship actions tonight?

"Alright, where're ye from?"

Allysen looks at the priestess and gives a half-smile as she asks her question.

She takes a puff from her pipe. "Hell Harbor, capital of the Devil's Arches. Called that 'cause of all the imps that live there. Tough place, ruled over by a Chelish turncoat. Right bastard that one is, but a gutsy one at that. Decided that I wasn't goin' ta spend the rest of me life there and head to Port Peril.", she smirks. "Familiar story, innit?"

"Twelve years sailin' an' never 'ave I wanted off a ship. Ambrose is right, this ship be poison."

She keeps her head down, but she feels like Plugg and Scourge are watching, just waiting for a reason to beat her, any reason.

"I love to sail, but I feel like a caged bird on this ship. I fear for me life. I fear I'm back in Ilizmagorti."

"Poison? That be an apt description o' this ship." She leans back against the railing and lights her pipe. "Under the eye of Plugg, Scourge n' his cronies, this place can be the Hells, but they can't keep their eyes on everyone all the time. Plenty of chance t'exercise a bit o' freedom. Yer lucky that ye hooked up with Fishguts. He's a drunk but he's not let the rest of 'em. Ye should do somethin' to loosen up. Listen t'some stories, play some dice, relax some. Enjoy what ye can fer now. We're gonna be on this ship fer a while, I think."

Amerdan requests grog at the end of his meal as Cut-Throat comes by with the rum rations.

Recalling what happened to Allysen the night before, the already-tired Amerdan decides it best to forgo the subterfuge for an evening and try to drink up (me hearties, yo ho).

Fatigued for 1d4 hours.

Sandara moves to stand beside Amerdan. "How ye enjoyin' the accommodations so far, an' you Allysen?"

"Best idea ye can have is to make friends among the crew. Scourge's lackeys'll be the hardest ta sway, but some of 'em are just survivin' in the only way they can."

She finishes her food and eyes Grok making her rounds with the rations. "'Specially her. Havin' the quartermaster like ye'll help get yer things back. Anybody try to get yer gear back yet? When we do meet a ship out here, there's a good chance that Cap'n Harrigan'll make sail for it and we'll all be on the boardin' party when that happens. The Cap'n ain't known to be a generous man, even if it means yer life."

Sandara blinks slowly and lowers her voice. "Right time, Jasmine? This is the Wormwood, Free Captain Harrigan's flagship. One of the fiercest Free Captains to sail the Shackles besides the Hurrican King hisself, I might add. Nobody on this ship'll be swayed to go against him. Any whiff of mutiny, and there'll be a keelhaulin' for everyone involved, and that's if they're lucky."

Sandara nods to the group and moves to give everyone room.

"Just thought I'd make some introductions. Rosie's a tough one and good to have on your side." she grins at the halfling.

"Twelve years at sea, o' hiding me self, an' they strip it away in twelve seconds." She curls up, her hand reflexively going for the knife in her boot. She doesn't draw it, just runs her thumb along it to assure herself that it is really there. "I don' wanna drown. I don' wanna be turned into a whore. I don' wanna be knocked up with one o' these bastar's kids. I don' wanna drown."

Sandara kneels down besides Allysen and speaks gently. "Don't fret, Allysen. There are no ship's whores on the Wormwood an' the crew won't lay a hand on ye like that for fear of Plugg's whip. He's a right bastard, that one is, but he follows the Cap'n's laws like they were handed down from the gods. Even Scourge's got to abide by them."

"Sandra, thanks ... can you direct us to crew quarters."

"Aye, Jasmine. Go down to the middle hold and follow the stairs further down into the lower hold. The berths be there. Just string up a hammock. There are also lockers down there with keys available from Grok to keep yer effects."

She turns towards Amerdan. "Nye, I do not condone it, but I'm not the Cap'n, now am I? I'm already on Scourge's short list, no need to give him any other excuse to use his lash.", she scowls towards the boatswain.

Sandara moves over to Allysen's unconscious form.

"Besmara, show mercy to this child of the seas on this vessel dedicated to you so that she may work the Sweet Trade as one of yours." she prays.

Sandara spontaneously casts cure moderate wounds and heals Allysen for 2d8 + 3 ⇒ (1, 2) + 3 = 6 points of damage, leaving her at 0 and staggered. She follows it up by casting cure light wounds and heals Allysen for another 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8 points of damage, bringing her up to 8 hp and removing all her nonlethal damage.

"That should help. Are ye alright, lass? Ye took a nasty lashing."

Seijiro flinches with each strike of the lash, recalling his own experience earlier, which he'd just as soon forget. He shivers in the cool night air and grips his knees with his hands tightly. Finally when the sound of the lash stops he manages to croak out very softly, "Sandara... does she... live?"

"Aye, she'll live.", she replies. "But she'll be needin' Besmara's mercy. Bring her here when that worm Scourge lets her down an' I'll see what I can do fer her."

As if on cue, Master Scourge unties Allysen's bonds and mocks her for passing out so quickly before walking off.

Quinn whispers back, "Plugg is vicious with the whip, but if she", Sandara nods pointedly at Allysen, "is a tough one, she'll be fine. Besmara's granted me some extra healin', so I may be able to patch her up some." She says this loud enough for both Seijiro and Allysen and looks at the girl with sympathy but doesn't address her directly, not wanting to risk Plugg's ire.

Plugg'll need to do 11 points on nonlethal damage before the rest gets converted to lethal damage, so the chances of her dying are next to none. Nonlethal is counted separately from lethal damage so, in essence, he'd have to do 34 points of damage in total to kill her. Now if it was the cat-o'-nine... that one deals lethal damage.

Amerdan looks down at the rum dubiously. He gestures his cup forward to Sandara.

"Would you like mine?"

Sandara hasn't given me anything. Does she not like me?

I hadn't decided yet what you started with since you had no equipment when I originally set out that post so I wasn't sure what she snagged for you. Don't worry, even though you smell like bilge water, she still likes you. Add your scroll of cure light wounds back as something the press gang missed.

"Nye, I wouldn't.", she replies. "Same punishment awaits if ye give it away, or sell it. Cap'n Harrigan and Plugg likes the crew subdued." She smiles at Amerdan and reaches into her bag, pulling out a few pouches and hands it to him. "But I do have a gift for ye."

She's retrieved your spell component pouch.

Seijiro has sworn off liquor and takes the tot of rum with a look of distaste. When no one seems to be looking, he pretends to sip his drink before he spills it out. over the side, on the deck, or into a bucket, wherever it won't be noticed.

stealth check 1d20+8

"Don't let anyone catch ye do that, Seijiro.", she says quietly. "It's the lash fer a first offence and six touches from Besmara's fingers fer the second."

"Besmara's Fingers" is slang for a cat-o'-nine tails. "Fancy Jacket", a term she used earlier, is someone who dresses and talks like a pirate but has no real sailing experience.

"Easy. I convinced her that the items were cursed and needed returning.", she laughs softly at that. "Ye don't discount the words of a priestess of Besmara. Oh, and speak of the devil... Right on time, with the rum rations."

Since this is a new page, people may have missed Grok passing by with your rum rations.

Well, I'm not hungry.

Allysen keeps her emotionless mask, but her face pales. Something didn't sit right with her about this.

They enjoy this too much. Even if he needed to die, there's no reason to enjoy it.

She takes a bowl of the soup and even though it's quite good, she eats it slowly and methodically. She knows one thing for sure, she wants off this ship.

There's a redheaded lady sitting near the other people Allysen was captured with who catches her eye and nods towards her, her lips breaking into an inviting smile. She raises an eyebrow as if to say "Want to talk?"

Amerdan stands in the same place motionless for quite some time, even after Jasmine moved away to engage the others.

That man from the bilges, did he truly deserve such a fate?

Silently, he collects his food and walks over to where Jasmine and the clique she's quickly forming around herself are all sitting. He doesn't sit with him, but stands next to them as he eats, approaching just Seijiro leaves.

Amerdan's manners leave much to be desired and he tends to be aloof in times of stress.

"Well met" says the redhead as Amerdan approaches. "We haven't been properly aquainted. Sandara Quinn." she tips her hat at him. "We're havin' a right party here, care to join?"

Jasmine sits down slowly, "I'm Jasmine," careful not to include her last name at this time, "interesting recruitment practice and the entertainment... leaves something to be desired."

Contemplating the next quesitons,"So when were you recruited and do you have any idea of where we are going?" After a short pause, "Are they just pirates or are they slavers,too?"

"Day before ye.", she replies before taking a puff on her pipe. "Saw ye all brought onboard and decided to visit 'Cut-Throat'. She be a superstitious one." Sandara finishes her stew and puts the bowl aside. "Pirates through an' through, Jasmine. We're here to fill the ranks of Cap'n Harrigan's ship. The destination is unknown. Nobody seem to know but the Cap'n.", she shrugs.

"The four of ye are our newest recruits. The last bach was yesterday, with me," she looks around the crowd and points out the muscular halfling. "that lil' firebrand, named Rosie Cusswell." She looks about some more and points out the large man with the blue bandana. "That's is Crimson Cogward. Angry young man, almost as much as Mister Plugg but much better company.", she puffs on her pipe a few more times as she scans the crowd. "An' that fancy jacket thar be Conchobhar Turlach Shortstone.", she says as she points out the gentleman gnome in the large hat. "Never set sail a'fore yesterday, I'd say."

She grins in a friendly manner.

"Aye, 'tis a free ship as far this lil' patch of it goes fer now.", she takes another spoonful of her sea turtle stew then looks around. "The Wormwood ain't a place to be friendless an' it looks like ye and yer fellow recruit here have no fondness fer the First Mate or his bos'n. I'd say the feelin' looks mutual s'well by Besmara, but that sniveling bootlicker Scourge has his eye on ye, lass."

The woman notices Jasmine and raises her cup towards the elf.

"Evenin', lass." she takes a long drink. "We haven't been introduced proper. Sandara Quinn.", she tips her hat. "Recent volunteer to the Wormwood like yerself. Take a seat, make yerself comfortable. We new swabs need to stick together."

"Sandara Quinn, priestess in the service o' Besmara.", she tips her hat. "We'll talk later, fer now just rest yerself an' keep yer eyes off the stern if ye wish to avoid seein' a keelhaulin'." She stands up and brushes off her pants before walking back towards the other sailors.

The red-haired woman takes a few steps towards Seijiro and kneels by his side as she whispers something the rest of the group can't quite make out.

She spontaneously casts cure moderate wounds on Seijiro for 2d8 + 3 ⇒ (2, 4) + 3 = 9 points of healing.

"Welcome back ta consciousness, lad." she says and reaches down to help him up. "Ye've never felt the kiss o' the lash before, have ye?"

Seijiro finds his way to the deck, but keeps to the crowd, not eagerly presenting himself at the mainmast. He sulks a bit, not looking forward to the evening. Never been lashed before. I know it'll hurt... having fur might help buffer the blows, but I've got to stay in human form or they might treat me even worse.

He mutters to himself a little in Minkaian and shakes his head slightly as he melds into the crowd, spends a little time listening in on varied bits of conversation among the crew if he can. Might as well listen up, maybe learn who else has cause to hate Plugg and Scourge. I dun like those two

Seijiro passes a young, red-haired woman wearing a tricorn hat and smoking a pipe who puts a hand on his shoulder.

"A minute if ye please, sailor.", she grasps his hand and he feels something metal and familiar pressed into his palm. "Yer fate 'tis far better than the poor sod who'll take the stage after ye, have courage an' take the lash. Don't give 'em any reason to use the cat.", she winks at him in a friendly manner. "An' when yer done with yer punishment, come say 'hello' an' we'll talk."

She takes a few puffs from her pipe and walks into the crowd. It's then that Seijiro realizes that she handed him one of his daggers.

[dice=Perception to find Amerdan and Allysen]1d20+0 Apparently, seaspray burned her eyes.

Despite the seaspray, it's not hard to find them since everyone is gathering on the main deck for the "Bloody Hour".

After a few moments a woman crowned with a mane of fiery red locks and has the air of someone not to be crossed steps beside Jasmine. Yet the smile lines at the corners of her eyes and the easy way she holds herself hint at a lighter side. She dresses to accentuate her figure, and her whole appearance speaks of the sea, from the seagull feather in her tricorne hat to the sailor tattoos on her arms and the clay pipe thrust into the corner of her mouth.

The woman takes a puff from her pipe and pulls a book out of her bag, stealthfully passing it to the elf. It's Jasmine's spellbook.

"Evenin', sailor.", she says. "We have a few things ta talk 'bout, but after the Hour's done and those poor lads get their punishments.", she grimaces in disgust. "Don't worry, I'll find ye and yer unlucky friends."

She grins, winks and tips her hat jauntily at the elf before sauntering off.

The youthful looking half-elf claps politely. "A drink for the lovely lass!" he exclaims and tosses a coin to the nearest serving wench. "Something to keep your voice from becoming parched.", he winks at her.

The giant grunts out something unintelligible and slams down his grog in a long pull, the foul liquid dripping from his too-wide mouth.

"Be more generous, Mister Trigg. Not all of us have heard the tale a thousand times before."

The door to the Formidably Maid opens and the entrance is momentarily blocked out by the broad and tall form of one of the ugliest men that has been seen in the tavern in a long time. He trundles in, a disturbing grin stretching his face, his sharp, too-white teeth standing out from his near pitch black skin. From behind him swaggers in a slight half-elven man, a head shorter than his companion, that eyes the occupants with sly appraisal.

"Well Mister Trigg, it seems like a full house tonight. Shall we partake in libations to celebrate?"

The giant nods slowly, the grin still on his face as he sits down at a table, staring blankly at a group of rough looking sailors.

"Now, now Mister Trigg, don't be rude." The half-elf smiles amicably towards them and seats himself with a flourish. "Let us see what sort of entertainment can be had this fine eve..." He smiles flirtatiously at the pale, singing woman, catching a glimpse of her yellow eyes before turning his attention to the motley assortment of folk that chose this very tavern to drown their sorrows, celebrate victories or to just spend time away from the sea before being dragged back.

Soon the choices shall be made, ssooooooonnnn.

Some more stuff added to the character sheet. I'm mulling over both the eidolon's name and how he came to be part of Sartana's life; I'm thinking it's based on an amalgamation of boogeymen of the sea from childhood stories (like Davey Jones, Blackbeard and such) and the eidolon's definitely got a creepy, tribalistic-weird-sea-person-thing vibe going on for it/him.

More forthcoming as time permits.

Here's the basics of Sartana and Mr. Trigg's backstory. I'll be working on more of the specifics in the coming days.

As far as roles go he's more of a buffer, smooth talker and stay-in-the-back kind of guy and Mr. Trigg (eidolon) is a I-grab-boarding-pikes-and-shove-it-through-your-head sort of dude. Not overly min-maxed but it's a concept I like.