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Sharice glares at Doreen again, wondering if it's worth trying to explain, then sighs. " No, you're right. You are simple and you don't understand, so stop worrying about it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm pretty sure Scourge is going to find some excuse to have me lashed tomorrow, so I'd better make sure I'm good and rested. Good night."
Sharice turns to glare at Doreen. "Oh, go screw an octopus. I'm not beating up a kid. If you want to see a fight so badly, step into the ring yourself." With that, she walks over to Owlbear and takes him by the arm. "Come on, let's get you fixed up." she says, then gently leads him out of the ring and to Sandara, pausing only to give another death glare at anyone who moves to prevent them from leaving or fails to get out of her way.
Night actions:
GM, Alivia:
Once they have some privacy Sharice shoves Alivia roughly against the nearest wall and glares at her from scant inches away. "I don't give a damn what stupid boasts you choose to make on your own behalf, but if you ever make one that I wind up having to make good on without checking with me first, you'd better pray that I don't survive it because once it's done I swear by Besmara's blood that I'll arrange some kind of 'accident' for you and take my chances with getting keelhauled afterward. Do you understand me?" Sense Motive DC10 or so:
Sharice ignores Renzuran's whispered comment. Of course he's rigging the fight. Did you really think for even an instant that he'd make this even remotely fair? "The offer is still open," She calls out to Owlbear. "Put that little stick down and yield, and I promise I won't hurt you. You don't want to fight, and I'm willing to let you walk away..." Her eyes narrow and her breathing slows as she prepares to call on the rage at her core. "... But if you take another swing at me then you had better pray you take me down with one swing, because if you miss, I will break that stick on your face before you have the chance to try again." Dice bits:
Sharice sighs as she darts out of the way of the clumsily thrown punch. "Fine. Just remember that I gave you a chance to back down." She maneuvers around Owlbear so that she can keep him in sight while shooting a scathing glare at Plugg. How does he manage to leech the fun out of anything he makes us do? She shakes her head and growls to herself. Focus, Sharice. Contemplate lengthy and satisfying retribution later. For now, mind on the fight so that there will be a later. She jinks to the right again, then darts to the left for another strike.
Sharice dances backwards out of striking range as she hears Owlbear's plaintive cry to Plugg. "I don't think Mr. Plugg cares whether you get hurt," she calls out, making no new aggressive movements but keeping her guard up. "You want me to stop hitting you? Just give up the fight and we'll call it a day. I'll even share some of my rum with you tonight if you like. Or we keep fighting... But then I won't stop until I break your jaw."
If he hits me like that more than once, I'm not likely to get back up. And I can't hit him nearly that hard back... She moves in again, slightly more cautiously, and lands another blow to his abdomen.
He can probably take a lot more punishment than I can, she analyzes, surreptitiously trying to shake out her stinging knuckles while keeping her guard up. And judging by his fists he can dish out a lot more as well - if he hits. So let's not get hit.
Sharice scowls at her opponent, noting the way he favors his left side, then cracks her knuckles. "Better savor the taste now, ugly, because when I'm done with you you won't be able to chew anything for a long time." She smirks, then beckons with her right hand. "Come and dance." GM:
Sharice takes a moment to glare at Alivia. "You can stop trying to help now, thanks." she mutters before getting into the ring and shaking her shoulders once to loosen up. She glares across the area at Owlbear and cracks her knuckles. "Okay, ugly. Let's dance."
Sharice cracks her knuckles as she stands up. "You're on," she calls back to Scourge. "Whatever pet he's got hidden away can't possibly be worse than having to stare at your face." She glances aside at Sandra, giving a minute nod. Yes, I know it's a trap. It's not like he'd offer any of us a chance to do anything but die. But how better to demonstrate we're not to be trifled with?
Sharice spends the evening sipping her rum and striking up a conversation with one of the other deck workers, comparing stories and gently probing for information on what to expect on the journey.
She saves her scowls for Scourge's back the next morning, but goes to work without complaint. While hunting rats with Scrimshaw, she looks at him askance. "Is it just me, or does the idea of Scourge smirking like that make you nervous as well? It feels like he's up to something and I don't think we're going to enjoy it..."
"No, they don't," Sharice replies. "Which is part of why I was wondering..."
Sharice's glare burns holes in Plugg's back until the son-of-a-wretch disappears belowdecks, at which point she finally allows herself to sag slightly to take the weight off her injured ankle. "I could do with some help, yeah," she mutters in response to Renzuran's offer. "Damn vermin. I just hope they weren't carrying plague..."
Sharice breathes out heavily as she reluctantly lets go of the rage. "The rat doesn't worry me," she replies to Alivia. "It's what made the other rats stop coming that concerns me."
Sharice snarls angrily as another rat manages to bite her, and growls in frustration as her return swing hits nothing but air.
Sharice snarls as she dances between the rat bites with almost superhuman grace, slashing out at the rat that refused to die.
She is not, however, so lost in her battle rage that she can't spare the time to wonder about the sudden death squeaks, and she risks the occasional glance in the direction of the sudden absence of noise...
She bares her teeth in a feral grin and lets the anger flow into her veins, fire down her nerves spurring her on as she lifts her blade in a reverse grip and spins, lashing out at the other rat that dared attack her.
Sharice snorts softly "And after we kill it he'll probably complain that we took too long or yell at us for getting blood all over the bilges." Despite her loathing of Plugg, Sharice can't quite suppress a feral grin. Finally, something she can hit. She nods at Renzuran and stalks down the stairs with slow, deliberate yet delicate steps, her curve blade held one-handed along her right arm in a reverse grip.
GM:
Repair work is a pretty constant task, but it also tends to be relatively light work -- and Sharice discovers she has something of a knack for spotting minor problem areas and fixing them before they have the chance to become major problem areas. "My last ship's sailing master always used to insist that five minutes of maintenance work could save five hours of repair work," she comments to the sailing master as she finds herself working with the woman to replace a fraying rope that would probably have snapped in a few days if left alone. "Of course, most of us swabs never understood what he meant until after we'd had our first near-disaster because someone slacked off and didn't notice the crack in a belaying pin..."
WARNING: Math.: An X sided die has as its probable outcomes a sequence of . As a very clever person discovered while trying to avoid a boring arithmetics assignment, you can pair the numbers off thusly: ... And so on, and you wind up with times the equivalent of . So the total will be which you can rewrite as , or .
After checking in with Rosie to make sure she's gotten her violin, Sharice starts making the rounds of messages. She curses inwardly as she notices the fearful looks she's getting. Definitely overdid it yesterday. Damn, damn, damn that temper of yours, Sharice... She suppresses a sigh. Ah well. What's done is done; maybe if tonight's entertainment is a hit Lucia and Servi can mend some bridges. Until then I'll just have to do my best not to make things worse... Of course, the nice part of having messenger duty is that you have a ready-made excuse for going almost anywhere claiming to be looking for your recipient... GM:
Before heading to bed, Sharice goes over to talk with the quartermaster. "Ahh, Grok, wasn't it?" she asks. "I was wondering, would there be any harm in letting Rosie have her violin back? It's not as if she can hide it anywhere if the captain wants to take it from her, and if letting her have it gets her to work better, everyone comes out ahead. Besides," she adds with a nod to where Lucia is entertaining the crew, "I'm willing to bet she'll be a great accompaniment to the singer."
Sharice nods at Sandara. "Do you have any idea where they might be keeping it?" she asks as she nurses her rum, occasionally wincing as aching muscles make their complaints known. She's going to be feeling that in the morning. GM:
"Sharice," Sharice replies to the human woman helping her as they lift the first coil of rope. "You were... Doreen, right? I remember you from the bar..." A quick glance around to check if anyone potentially hostile is in earshot, then she leans in to speak quietly. "Watch your back. Scourge probably sicced those thugs on us to put us in our place. He's bound to try something else now that it failed..."
Sharice has little trouble with the knots, but as the day progresses her nocturnal excursion and the weight of the ropes starts to take its toll on aching muscles...
Sharice nods at Sandra. "We'll need to be careful about who we talk to and how much we let on," she murmurs softly enough that Jape won't be able to overhear. "One excuse will likely be all he needs." She looks up as Doreen approaches. "Oh, nothing important," she replies out loud, smirking as she turns to head upstairs, 'accidentally' kicking one of the unconscious thugs between the ribs. "Jape over there wanted to discuss the pecking order aboard this ship and our place in it in particular, but it was a short conversation..." She smiles at 'Jape'. Unlike the one she gave Scrimshaw, this is not a nice smile -- it's a promise of violence, mayhem and suffering if the recipient is going to be stupid enough to thwart the smile's owner. "I think we agreed to disagree and leave well enough alone for now -- didn't we, Jape?"
GM:
That reminds me of another question I've been meaning to ask. The description of Controlled Rage in the Urban Barbarian archetype states that the usual drawbacks of rage don't apply, but the post-rage fatigue state isn't mentioned explicitly. What's your call on whether it applies or not?
Sharice glares at the "Jape", clenching her hands into fists as she breathes slowly and deliberately to keep the red haze of rage from overtaking her vision. Control. These are just another bunch of bullies and thugs. You've endured the like before, and you're still here and they're not. Use the rage, don't let it use you... Another breath, and she opens her eyes again to meet the "Jape"'s sneer with a glare of her own. "I hope for your sake you didn't hurt Sandara much, because if you don't get out of our way you're going to need her help in a minute."
GM:
Sharice went to bed early, and wakes up in the middle of the night to head out on the deck. She gives the guard on Middle Watch duty a smile and shows her empty hands as she walks casually toward the railing. "Couldn't sleep," she offers as the only explanation before she leans on the railing to look out over the sea, eyes closed a moment as she smells the breeze and lets it calm her. "I admit... I missed this. Deck beneath my feet, stars above me, salt in the air..." She breathes deeply and sighs before turning to look at the guard again, offering another small - but sincere - smile. "I can't honestly say I'm happy about the way I ended up on board, but... It feels good to be out to sea again, regardless."
She blinks once, as if shaking herself out of her reverie and remembering she's not alone. "I'm Sharice, by the way."
Sharice nods at Lucia. "Besides, whatever we decide to do about this, we'll have a much better chance of success if at least the worthwhile members of the crew are behind us. If this is Harrigan's usual way of 'recruiting', I bet we're not the only ones unhappy with the current state of affairs..." She turns to look at Sandara. "That reminds me... How does he manage to prevent half his crew from jumping ship whenever he makes port?" Her eyes light up like a young child opening her naming day gifts when she sees her sword, and she quickly tests its edges before restoring it to its sheath. "THANK you. I know, I know, not allowed to use it on any of the crew, that little sadist's demonstration was perfectly clear. But this makes me feel a great deal better about things already... At least if something goes terribly wrong and we get killed, I'll be able to take some of them with us." The rum gets a disdainful sniff. "Eeugh. Rotgut. Take it easy, or drink a lot of water with it or you'll be cursing your ancestors in the morning..." She matches her words with her actions, taking deep swills of water with every sip of rum.
GM:
GM:
Sharice swallows her rage at both both of the brutes she holds personally responsible for her current situation, but can't quite suppress the sigh of relief as Quinn heals her broken arm. She nods once in thanks at the woman before Scourge sends her off to scrub the decks. There's an interesting thing about swabbing: you're all over the entire deck, working in plain sight where everyone can see you... But almost nobody notices you. As long as you're obviously concentrating on your work people simply filter you out of their perception, and you can overhear all sorts of interesting things... GM:
Sharice restrains a snarl at Harrigan's back for now, then heads for the rigging.
Dice rolls:
After a few false starts that earlier snarl works its way free and Sharice begins working her way upward on pure ferocity. It goes fairly well until she gets about halfway and she misses a grab at just the right time for a gust of wind to knock her free of the rigging and sending her plummeting down from 30 feet to land hard on the deck below.
There are a great many things Sharice would really like to do to the man shouting at her, but unfortunately this doesn't seem to be the right time for violence so she forces herself to settle for glaring at their captor. She blinks once at Servi's response, but decides against saying anything. From the feel of it, we're out to sea already, and no idea where we've gone. If I'm to get out of this, I'm going to need more information... She spares a moment to look around her at the other prisoners, trying to gauge their own reactions. ... And a lot of help. We'll have a lot to talk about the first chance we get.
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