Sorry, hitting some deadlines here. Will post in the next, um, 18 hours or so. Sorry!
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Still here, yes! I'll work up a post in the morning!
"Being able to pick and choose the...it's called a prize crew, isn't it? Anyway, being able to pick it probably goes along with being given command of the captured ship, right? Is even Plugg fool enough to fill a crew with the press-ganged and the enslaved? Seems like we wouldn't be the only ones whispering about mutiny on a crew like that, and it seems like our 'good captain' would know that. I'm not saying it's not a good idea—it just seems like a slim chance that we'd all be assigned to any such crew." It occurs to the other two women that this is the longest speech they've ever heard Synthia give. To their surprise, she's still not done. Though what she says next doesn't surprise them. "I just wish there was a way to slip knives between the ribs of all the officers by night." She brightens. "Or poison! Beshra, if we could come up with some poison could you see it into their food?" Syn seems unnervingly cheered by the prospect.
Synthia passes the days learning her new trade and trying to learn the culture of the ship. She keeps a careful count of the officers and crew, making mental notes of names and faces, and trying to subtly learn who might be amenable to mutiny or an escape attempt. On the night Sandara reveals their location, Synthia nods, and thinks. "Maybe Harrigan isn't waiting for a chance to slip in. Maybe he's waiting for someone to come out. His next target, maybe."
Synthia gratefully takes the evening meal and the rum as well, watered down and overly spiced though it may be to her taste. When she's reasonably sure they won't be overheard, she relays the mostly banal events of her day to Beshra, making special mention of how dangerous Syl seemed, and admitting her affection for the hopeless gnome. "I'd say he might be an ally, if it came to it, but I doubt he's worth much in a fight." Syn drains her mug, winces, and sets it on the rough-hewn bench that serves as a table. "I don't suppose being in the galley gave you any clues as to how many are serving aboard this bucket? Or more to the point, how many officers?"
Synthia watches Syl move away, taking note of the instinctive way her hand reached for a shortsword that wasn't there as soon as the slippery woman spoke her threat. Is there anyone on this wretched ship who isn't some kind of dangerous freak? she wonders. Aloud, she says, "It sounds like we'd best work faster, eh, Conch? Wouldn't want to disappoint any of our kind and loving superiors."
Hey guys, just a quick note to let you know I was running a (fairly epic) session of PFS at the local game store today and will catch up here tonight or tomorrow.
I can't roll above a ten to save my blessed life!
"Conchobhar Turlach Shortstone, eh?" Synthia repeats. "Why do I get the feeling you have a nickname you're not sharing with me?" Syn takes the parted strands of ropes and begins deftly weaving them back together . She sits astride the spar with her back to the mast, facing the gnome as she works, trying hard to conceal a smirk at the little man's ill-played lasciviousness. At the least, it's a welcome change from the obvious threat presented by Plugg and his foul brother. "So what's your place in the crew, Conchobhar Turlach Shortstone?" she asks idly, seeking to distract him. Syn never knew a gnome that didn't like to talk about himself. "Did you volunteer for this crew or were you...otherwise recruited?"
Thanks for the clarification. I'll work up a post late tonight or in the morning--heading out to run a Pathfinder Society game, #3-05 Tide of Twilight, at the local game shop.
So. Glad. To. Be. Out. Of. Hold! If Synthia's not wearing her armor, I believe her climb bonus should be bumped up 1 (along with all her other Dex and Str based skills, right?). So that would have been a +6? Not that it would have made any difference on that climb, but it does make a difference on this Sleight of Hand check she's about to try. So is she wearing her lamellar leather armor?
I'm trying to decide whether or not to say something with Bluff to try and convince these scum that Syn has some kind of pox that'll cause them some rotting they don't want if they mess with her. Gotta admit as a player I'm gonna have some difficulty if we start getting into sexual abuse or assault territory. Not fun.
Not dirty. Dark. Meant to reflect her sudden change in mood when the pirates come in and start talking. Kind of an "oh, these bastards again" kind of look. Sorry for the lack of clarity.
Twelve hours of planes, trains, and automobiles later (well, followed by ten hours of sleep), I am home again home again.
Synthia shoots a dark glance at Beshra, then holds her head high and looks the first mate in the eye. "I don't know what a 'swab' does, but I have a good sense of balance and a head for heights. I've a fair hand with knots and that sort of thing."
Tomorrow's my travel day home from Mexico, where I've had a fantastic and productive working vacation. Hopefully I'll be able to sneak in a post in the morning if one is called for, but it might be Sunday before I make another appearance.
Synthia ponders the cards in her hand. "I needed to leave the city. I decided to do some work on my own and the people I worked for—the various people I worked for—didn't like that." She rearranges the cards, but there's no way to make the hand, or her past, any better. She has to play what she's been dealt. "I'm at sea because I was fleeing for my life, if you must know."
Synthia is silent for a long moment. "We should try to find another candle," she says at last. "This one will burn down soon." She takes the deck and begins to shuffle it rapidly, cutting and recutting the cards. Finally, she shrugs and says, "I've worked with my hands, mostly. For other people, mostly. If that's not a good enough answer I guess I'll take one of my vetos." Syn then cuts the cards again and deals out hands of five.
Synthia looks at the cards Beshra dealt her for a moment, then carefully, with one hand, draws them toward herself one at a time.
"Close one, eh?" she says, then rapidly folds the cards back into the deck. "Okay. You want to ask me one?"
I've been enjoying all the posts.
Thanks, Doran. You guys are creating a lot of wonderful backstory and context over there on the Andoren seashore.
Synthia holds her hands wide, her face the picture of innocence, then accepts her cards from Beshra.
Whistling innocently, Syn tips her hand. "Three Ships go Sailing, the Lady waits. Hmmmm... Have a man? Or a woman? Have anybody waiting at home?"
Synthia is quietly astonished at Beshra's openness. A feeling stirs in her that she doesn't quite recognize...is it sympathy? She chooses not to say anything, though, just quietly takes her cards.
She places her three cards in the form of a triangle before her. "Lesser Weight of Coins," she says, almost apologetically, then, "Um, any sisters or brothers?"
Playing cards right is what we're now having a go at!
Synthia shrugs. "If you like. Too bad about the wine, though." With quick, deft movements, she spins five cards out to each of them, then frowns over her hand in the light of the candle.
When each of them lay down their cards, Synthia says, "My Second through Fourth of Ships and the Duchess of Dragons against..." she smiles. "Against that mess you have there." She then purses her lips, considering. "Ever kill anyone?"
Synthia schools her features into a guileless expression. "I don't remember ever actually playing cards before," she says casually. "I just know there's betting involved, yes?" With that she takes the deck into her hands, looks at it like she's never seen such before, and then sends the whole lot, one card at a time, flying across from her left hand to her right.
She collects the cards in her right hand, tamps them into an even stack with her left, then sets the deck atop a nearby crate, tapping the topmost card to indicate Beshra should cut. "I appreciated the water," she says, settling back. "I don't suppose you could magic up some wine, as well, could you?"
Synthia takes another look at the door, then peers through the crack between the hatch and its frame. She lets out a long sigh, revising her opinion. "Actually, now that I look at it more closely, we're not getting out that way." She holds up the nails, wires, and other bits of seeming trash she'd carefully gathered. "But at least I've got these, now. And at least we hopefully won't have to worry about the manacles."
Considering Beshra's suggestion, Synthia abandons her search of the room and moves to the door. "Or hatch, I guess," she murmurs, apparently unaware that she is speaking aloud. "They call them hatches on ships." She leans over and examines the means by which the door is kept locked.
"I think you're probably right about staying put. But I'll just check and see if there's anything I can do with this door, in case we decide we need to go through it. Bastards took the tools I usually use for this kind of work..." Syn's long, clever fingers go to work, though she isn't confident she'll be able to do much without her picks.
Abandoning the attempt, she leans back from the door and looks at her fellow prisoner. "I can probably get it open with a little time. I wouldn't want to do it while we were trying to escape a fire though. For now, I don't know what we can do besides wait. Unless we find something useful in here."
I took a quick look through the game thread and may have missed this information, but just to clarify, what equipment and so on from her character sheet does Synthia have access to? They took her weapons, I presume? What about her armor? Her tools?
Exhausted from the pain and effort of the escape, and from the rapid-fire healing that followed, Synthia nonetheless musters the energy to kicks the bloody manacles against the wall. "I don't care what you do with the twice-damned things," she says before eagerly gulping down the water Beshra offers. Thirst slaked, she nods a curt thanks at her companion. Recovered a bit, Syn looks down at the floor, clearly considering whether to follow Sandara. Then she shakes her head. "I'm a strong swimmer," she mutters, "but we are far from land." In the flickering light of the candle, she begins a careful search of the room, hoping against hope that the crew had left something behind that could be used as a weapon.
No worries, that was great! I'll post a game thread post in the morning.
Gah! So frustrating!
Synthia eyes the other woman warily, unsure whether she can trust this promise of healing. But her frustration at being bound wins out, and again, she rotates her wrists and pulls.
This time her curse is too low to hear, and she blinks away tears of pain and frustration.
Synthia looks at Beshra incredulously, but then grimaces her teeth and tries to wriggle her way out of the biting manacles one last time.
"Gods above and below! They just won't come off!
I think next time you should try to roll higher numbers. Blast it, I must still be tired from the flights or not thinking straight from the margaritas. Let me take a note...roll higher numbers. Okay, next time for sure! ;)
Okay. Hope I did all that right.
Syn nods at the last thing Beshra says. "Or we could tell them that one of the crew let us go, maybe sew some distrust among them. I doubt it would take much to convince any of them that we'd had unauthorized visitors." She makes her way over to Beshra and holds her wrists out in front of her. "Okay," she says, "One more time."
"Damn it all, I can't get them off!" Fresh blood rolls down Synthia's wrists.
Yeah, I thought so. Beshra you want to roll that Aid Another? Syn will try to shrug her way out of those hateful things one more time, one way or another.
Before I proceed, quick question/observation—I didn't think one could take ten on the Aid Another action. Barcas?
Synthia stares down the hole the priestess left through, then curses softly at the manacles still binding her hands. The other woman—possibly also some kind of priestess—makes her peculiar requests and then proceeds to huddle in the corner. Everyone on this boat is insane, Syn decides, but initially respects Beshra's request for what little privacy can be hand in this cramped hold. Then, after going over the details of the bewildering exchange she just witnessed, she speaks after all. "Hey. If you can get me out of these, I would see you repaid. But...stay out of my thoughts."
Hey, sorry for the delay. Been getting settled in here in Mexico and getting some writing done. Will update here in a bit.
Only about an hour I think, alas. Shortish layover for an international flight.
We go every year, pretty much. Or have been lately. Love it down there. Thanks!
Packing has begun, and we're up early here to head to the Northern Kentucky/Cincinnati Airport and from there on to Houston, then Guanajuato/León, then by car to San Miguel de Allende, where I'll be for a week (but with internet access, or at least so I'm told). I might be able to sneak a post in tomorrow from an airport someplace, but it also might be Saturday before I'm back.
A shudder passes through Synthia, halfway between ecstasy and pain. She marvels as she feels the wounds on her wrists close. This must be magical healing, something she's never experienced before. She listens as the other two women, Beshra and Sandara they said their names were, have what seems to her like a lengthy conversation. She considers the likelihood of either of them having any connections in the Magnimarian underworld. "Thank you," she mutters into the dark. "For the healing. And for the lay of the land, if that can be said on a ship." She hesitates for a long moment before adding, "My name is Synthia."
All I've got is that we're going to a writing retreat in Mexico this weekend for a week, but other than the travel days (Friday and then a week from Saturday) I'm supposed to have 'net access. When I don't post it just means I'm being lazy. No public service involved!
Y'know, I gotta say, this really is weirding me out slightly. When there are slowdowns in other games, you say, "Well, somebody's mother-in-law must be visiting," or "Ah, the GMs carpal tunnel must be flaring up," or just a generic "real life got in the way." When DM Barcas doesn't post for a little while, on the other hand, it probably means someone was killed. Yeesh.
I don't know how appropriate they are for any of our characters, but here are a couple of old "nautical pop" songs I like, one an environmentalist shanty, the other a working class epic.
Synthia would be played by Maggie Gyllenhaal, and this would be her theme song.
Synthia would never admit to be terrified, and in fact isn't even self-reflective enough to recognize what she's feeling is a great deal of fear. She's expressing it as paranoia and anger.
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