Vorya's page

Aery's loss weighs on the swashbuckler, like a heavy anchor around his neck. Already one castaway lost, and gone without more then a murmur. Vanished, without a trace, into the jungle. What had happened? Had the drunk wandered off and fallen off a cliff? Thrown herself off? Eaten by some animal?

Or was it more sinister? Random, unwanted fears roamed in his mind. Thoughts of cannibal islanders, stalking them. Of Kovaks coming back to finish the job. Or worst of all. A killer among them? What was hiding behind these faces?

Vorya does his best to submerse his fears in work. The swashbuckler throws himself into shelter construction, if nothing else at least no one is sleeping exposed to the weather, bugs and sky. A small thing but a shelter and a fire go a long way to keeping the terror at bay.

Or at least it would if thoughts of flying creatures didn't fill his mind. Bats, he hoped, but he guessed something much larger. Dragons? Hopefully not...

Yeah, fishing the next day

Vorya listens to Ishirou quietly, without judgement. Around them, the quiet night noises of the island resound. Waves swelling over sand, night birds calling, droning of blood seeking insects. It is a dark, dark night with (as yet) no Moon. Above, the stars shine as bright as pirate's loot, glittering gemstones set in velvet blackness.

'Small world." Vorya says finally, "That you, of all people happen to have that maps." The sheer unlikely nature of that chance makes Vorya wonder, but for now, he accepts it.

"I'm not opposed to getting rich Ishirou but there is one little problem with your plan. You can't eat gold. We could have a dozen fortunes sitting on the beach in front of us, and it wouldn't do us much good. If we had a way off the island...then yes, I have to admit I'd be tempted. But right now? I'd rather that map showed a field of corn, or even better, a harbor nearby."

Vorya glanced at the Tian man, "But like I said, if we do find a way off.....we could make a stop at that point and do a bit of digging..."

Vorya looks at Sasha, "Let's talk about it tomorrow. One day or two of good survival under our belts will help, no matter what we decide to do." As tempting as it was to go out, find Kovaks and string him up on the nearest coconut branch, it wasn't s useful wish at the moment. Too many other things needed doing. Vengeance was poor sustenance.

"I'll look for bait today. I'll cut some more branches for some shelters, and keep any eye out. You need anything for the fishing gear?"

At the word about Aerys, Vorya is uneasy. It would be all too easy for someone to wander off and get hurt in this situation. A twisted ankle, a case of heatstroke, simply getting lost among the jungle trees would be a death sentence. "Did anyone see which way she might have went?" Vorya asks Ishirou. "A clue, maybe? I don't want anyone going off on their own little adventures, like I said with Sasha. Too dangerous."

He agrees to meet up with the Tien man that night, curious what was ins tore.

Lame, but first thing is to gather any information about Aerys and, if given any clue, go look for her

Vorya had not dwelt much on the actual shipwreck itself, which might have surprised a person from another nation. Rahadoumi by nature did not dwell much on bad luck or happenstance. Such things happened and should be accepted, then overcome through hard work or simply endured. It was the way of the world, and you should get used to it.

So the swashbuckler had mostly shrugged off the strange things he had seen that chaotic night, and assumed it had been bad weather or some strange creature that had caused the boat to wreck. Ill chance, as they said and no use getting upset over.

The log dispelled all such thoughts. Here it was, in the Captain's own words, his slow descent into obsession and growing willingness to sacrifice all of them for some brain-addled romantic vision. A bizarre fantasy. Nearly killed them all for the sake of a twisted fairy-tale.

Actually, still might have killed them.

It made Vorya angry enough that the ledger shook in his hands. The idiot! This wasn't a mistake or accident. It was cold blooded lunacy! If he wanted to be insane, fine, go row off in your own boat, don't drag the rest of us down here with you. Vorya allowed himself half a minute to imagine what he'd do to the good Captain Kovaks.

And then, he suddenly realized. Kovaks and Ileana were not here, not among the castaways. Had the man actually got away with it, and spirited his unwilling soul-mate to some other part of this island? Right now, was he conjuring up a dreamscape of a happy home? Perhaps not that far away either....

At Gelik's words, Vorya is brought back to reality. "He was mad, Gelik. Look at the notes, he barely said two work to her on the whole trip. It wasn't about her, it was about his own strange delusions. Ileana could have been half-troll for all it mattered."

Sighing heavily, Vorya stood up, away from the scribbled notes, "Well, we now know who to blame, not that it matters much. Kovak may very well be on this island, but it could be many miles and over rough terrain. I'm tempted Sasha, at ranging, but I still think we need to place survival first."

"One things seems clear, human habitation is not unknown on this island. I'm not too fazed by the stories of cannibals. What island isn't reputed to be the home of blood-crazed savages? But other castaways and explorers....well, we may not be alone here. Best to keep our guard up and our eyes open."

Fort Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16

Vorya leans over the map, his nose almost touching the worn paper. He was surprised and pleased that not only could they identify their current island but that it had a name. After confirming this, the swashbuckler sat back on his haunches and looked around.

"Smuggler's Shiv. Not the most promising name." Vorya said to the assembled group, partly for the benefit of any illiterates. Rahadoum valued education highly but Vorya knows not all nations did.

"That suggest two things, one good and one bad." The swashbuckler went on, thinking out loud. " The first is that clearly people must visit, at least sometimes. That's good for our chance of rescue. On the other hand, smugglers and pirates might not be the most friendly group."

Vorya swept his eyes across the group, "That said, even pirates are probably preferable to starving on this beach." He shook his head and asked the assembled people, "Do you folks agree? Should we still prioritize being rescued? If a ship appears, do we do our best to signal it?"

To help you, I'll add this next thing

"Well, I appreciate you gathering for this meeting. Planning will be our tool against the wild. We have to work together and it starts today. " Vorya glanced at Sasha, "For the fishing. What do you want for bait? I plan on making more shelters and improving what we have, I can keep an eye out whole I'm out collecting branches. "

Ok, general plan is to build some more shelters for everyone and just general encouragement and to see if the groups works together at all

Voyra frowns at Bellet's obvious attitude. It is one thing to be nobility, it is quite another to treat your fellow man as lowly servants. Vorya was used to it, of course (he himself was not immune) but not was not the time. This was a time for survival, to pull together as a team. Not for putting each other down. But what was the swashbuckler to do? Harangue an old lady?

Best to boost morale in another way, at another time.

Well, maybe he could say something now.

So instead he nodded thanks, 'Good, that is a start." he glanced at Pilts, "Assuming you agree. As the cook, you are one of the most important people here. Without food, this whole thing comes screeching to a halt and I doubt anyone else wants to eat fried grass and boiled water."

Sasha's words need no reinforcement. Even discounting pirates or other survivors, just a wild animal could be a problem. Best to stay sharp.

"I'll take a hand at fishing," Vorya offers, if only to set an example. The thought of actual handling a slimy, squirming fish (let alone gutting it) sets his teeth on edge. Still, it beat starving.

Ishirou's excitement was so obvious, Vorya couldn't say no. Besides, it probably was a good idea to get an idea where they are. Was this stay likely to last days. Weeks?

Months?

It might have surprised a bystander but Vorya felt a flicker of joy and hope flare in his gut. Even if these people are grumbling or prattling on without much sense they are starting to think as a group, a team. At the very least, they seem to care about their predicament and the dangers around them.

Might not be a esprit de corp, but selfishness was a place to start.

"I agree with Lady Bellet," Vorya starts. His people have no issues with nobles, just kings. "We do all need to work as a team, diving up labor based on our needs and skills. There are quite a few of us and while that does have downsides, it has a major advantage of being able to spread out the labor. "

At the idea of ranging, Vorya looks pensive, "I'm not sure Sasha. I agree that we very well may not be alone, that was part of the reason I went a bit into the back country yesterday. That and to find water. For all we know there is a fishing village or pirate cove on this island, only a few miles away. It is tempting to look for it but..." The swashbuckler shakes his head, "It is dangerous. What if the person sent out gets lost, or gets hurt? Forget cannibal islanders, or even animals. A twisted ankle could kill them. I think we should stick together, at least until we have a suitable base of operations here."

At Ishirou's words Vorya nods, "Also a good idea. We need to assess and see if passing ships are likely. If we are close to a shipping lane, we can concentrate on being visible from a distance. Fires, smoke and all that."

Vorya paced a bit talking out loud, "Still, I think our first priorities are obvious. Food, fire and shelter. The first will be the hardest since I don't know if any of us really know the local flora and fauna very well. Fishing might be the best bet, you can eat pretty much any fish. " He glances at the ocean, trying not to think of crawling decomposing arms.

"And, most critically, I am worried about Jask. he is obviously unwell and like Gelik says, he could be a useful asset if revived. I'm not a healer but the obvious things first. We need to keep him warm, fed and watered. Someone will need to focus on that, while the rest of us work on the other jobs."

Vorya looks around, "Ok, any volunteers for anything? I know it's not going to be fun, but it beats dying of thirst out here on the sand. if we work together, and work hard, we can survive out here." The swashbuckler shrugs his shoulders, "At least I am willing to try my hardest. I won't ask anyone to do something I won't."

Vorya looks over the hungry, tired and more then slightly confused group. Shipwrecked, starved and battered by the elements. This was his material to build survival with. How could he move them, unite them?

Lead them?

"I am no priest or king." The Rahadoumi starts, invoking the ancient tradition on how to start an important public speech. A promise and assurance tot he crowd, not that he expected anyone here to understand the reference. Still, that ounce of familiarity lets him gain strength.

"Pilts was already started." Vorya goes on, "And Speaks the truth. We are alone out here, lost and forgotten. It may be weeks, months before someone else comes along able to save us. In the meantime we must save ourselves." Vorya stands up, starting to pace, planning melding into his talk, "We must work together, it's the only way. Still, we are not without luck. The island is big, with water, plants, animals. There is the stuff of survival here. I am sure the peasants of our homelands make do with worse. At least," A small smile, 'We won't be competing with anyone else."

"Still, we need to focus and work as a team. I think our first priorities should be shelter, and a fire. Without them, we'll freeze, here here. Exposure can be deadly, and it'll sap our strength."

Then he waited, to see what reaction he engendered. Agreement? Anger? neglect?

Vorya had not worked this hard since....well, he had no idea. His muscles ached even as he stopped for lunch, sweat pouring off his body. His rapier made a poor axe and the brush was springy and refusing to cut easily. The high heat and humidity of course made everything worse. On top of it all, he was spattered with tiny blotches of blood as he slayed endless hordes of biting insects.

Disgusting. the swashbuckler felt never been clean again.

His spirits, already somewhat low, sink farther as he watches the Jenivere finally give in to the crashing waves, vanishing below the waves. There had never been hope of sailing on her again, but it still a blow watching it go. Another connection to the outside world, severed.

He saves a bit of his lunch and puts it down in front of the still barely awake Jask. "Eat it, keep your body going."

His list of chores was simplfied.

Start a small fire.
Take a quick ocean swim (avoiding whatever weird undead or fey creatures lived there apparently!)
Call a general meeting and start actually planning to survive.

So much for the calming sea....

At first Vorya thought the strange display was merely some appendage lost in the shipwreck, some human detritus being reclaimed by the sea. It was hard to see details by only the glowing water. Was it- Yes. It was human flesh and then bone, in an instant.

His blood chilled. What had it been? Illusion? Undead? Whatever it was, best to get away. Without delay the swashbuckler left the waterside, clambering up the sand toward his makeshift 'shelter'. He glanced up and down the beach to make sure no one else was on a late night stroll.

If anyone else is about, he will warn them. If not, best to leave it for tonight. Plans for tomorrow are to build a much shelter back among the first trees and to build a large bonfire.

When he hears the litany of divine supplication coming from the shivering Jask, Vorya is tempting to simply throw himself into the sea. Typical worshipper. A man builds them a shelter, through sweat, luck and daring. Literally makes up a home out of whole cloth and who gets the credit?

The Gods.

The same all-knowing Gods that, apparently, stranded them on this island in the first place! It was enough to make one laugh...or weep.

Vorya is too tired for either so instead he sits in the sand, doing his best to stay warm. Pilts is right, he thinks as he chews down the last of the salty cod. They would need better environs tomorrow. A roof, some walls, and a fire. A big roaring fire.

Fire held an important symbolic place among the Rahadoumi. The light of wisdom, the burning away of lies. What was that line from that old boring poem everyone learned?

'Fire is to represent truth because it destroys all sophistry and lies; and the mask is for lying and falsehood which conceal truth'

But here, fire would serve a more practical purpose. For one thing, it would kill them warm and alive. Second, they could cook food on it. Third, it would signal to any passing ships there were humans here who might need saving (or attract cutthroat pirates but one problem at a time). Yes, a very large fire is important.

The swashbuckler was still thinking about this as he watched the waves rhythmically sweep in and out. The heartbeat of the world some sages said.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

Nope

All that anger, that frustration Vorya had felt only a short time ago...was washed away. Either by rain or by exercise. Or maybe justt he pitiful sight of Jask shivering in the wet sand, his life probably slowly ebbing away.

In stories they tended to talk about the painful ravaging of thirst or the slow wasting of hunger, but rarely mentioned that being exposed in the wild was a death sentence. Your life slowly being sucked out of you by cold or heat. Even in a tropical place like this, water and wind could freeze a heart.

They all needed shelter, and they needed it fast. Which was not great because Vorya had, so far, not found any. The ridge behind him, that he had just climbed, had no sign of caves or even helpful rocky overhangs. Besides, it looks like the place turned into a giant sluice when it rained.

Well if the world (or another man might have said 'the gods') did not provide, he would have to. The swashbuckler looked up and down the windswept, damp beach and saw little.

Well, little except the wooden sledge they had dragged from the wreck. Perfect. Without a word, Vorya went to work.

First he turned the sledge pointing away from the beach , out of the ocean breeze. Then, he started to dig under it. First a small hole in front, just near the timbers. Slowly it grew, down and actually under the haphazard raft. Soon the rough boards formed a ramshackle roof over a small sandy cavern, bit enough for a few people to sit or lie down. It wasn't exactly a house, but it was out of the wind and rain and with some improvements would do.

Waterproof the top with sails and branches, drag some rocks for a firepit out of the rain, maybe some castoffs for a bed, an ever-burning torch in the back...it was a start.

He keeps working until it is sound enough to drag/help Jask into it. The prisoner is looking rough

Vorya finds a fallen log and, after carefully wiping away the rotten detritus and f crawling insects, sits down. The air is hot and heavy, humid enough to nearly choke the swashbuckler. Above the clouds swirl into a congealed mass, promising rain but probably little relief. Vorya gets the feeling the humidity never lets up. If anything, dousing everything in rainwater will probably just make things even worse.

Still, at least he had found water and seen more if the island. No fishing villages yet....could this place really be empty? Save those from the shipwreck of course......

His anger had run out by now, replaced by the usual Rhadoumi usual mix of rugged optimism and practical realism. They all had work ahead of them, if they wanted to stay alive. And, Vorya at least, wanted to.

The swashbuckler headed back down, hoping to strike the stream and take a long drink before it got too fouled by the rain burst that was surely coming.

Water! Sweet, delicious water.

And yet, long training restrains him, as parched and thirsty as he is. Despite the danger signs of heat strain that are evident even to his muddled and battered brain, wisdom floats to the surface. A stream, even one seeming to be clear and free, can hold nasty surprises. Make you sick, puke your guts out for days. Obviously any water is better then none, but he was close to the top of the ridge. The water must be coming from a spring, not very far away.

He would try. If the way got too steep, or he got lost, he'd have the stream to follow down. And, of course, drink from if he had to. Besides, the idea of seeing the other side of the ridge was quite tempting. Visons of that happy fishing village danced in his mind. Food, shelter, other people....it was possible, wasn't it?

Or was it just his version of hoping the Gods would magically save them?

Ah well, Vorya climbed.

Not climbing far. If he feels faint or otherwise actually in extreme danger, he will stop and drink. He would just rather drink from a spring, if he can get it. If it seems impracticable, he'll drink. he needs it.

Bugs. Of course there were bugs. Vorya homeland, despite being hot, was a dry desert wafting by sea breezes. It was generally a hostile place to insects and their population was, thankfully, low. Clearly this fetid, tropical island was quite the reverse.

Vorya slapped at his arm, and his palm came away smeared with red, his own blood. Urgh.

Still, both the biting bugs and enervating heat did sap away his anger. It wasn't their fault, he slowly reasoned, trying to be charitable. It was not their way, to step up and take charge of their own fates. Could one really blame sheep, that had lived their whole lives safely in corral for being confused when the walls came down? No, one could not. Besides, some had tried. Indeed, Aerys had done better then he on the ship. Perhaps her had been hasty.

But they did need water, and soon. Vorya had the feeling this island would not cool much over night. Pilts hadn't been wrong, coming rainstorms would help but would it be enough for such a sizable crowd as those that gathered around the beach?

Vorya eyed the game trail, weighing his choices. Going alone was dangerous of course, the opposite of common sense. Who knew what dangers lurked ahead? Setting aside the exotic fears of ravening beasts, the more mundane problems of getting lost or tripping over a branch could be deadly alone.

On the other hand, they needed to explore this land. They needed water, shelter and perhaps signs of locals. For all he knew, their was a village of happy fisherman just on the next beach.

Vorya slowly nodded. He would climb...a bit. Until he felt too tired.

The only thing Vorya was jealous of, when it came to god-worshippers, was their ability to swear fluently. The skill to call upon the divine to curse was something he really wished he had right now, confronted with this people.

Vorya was a city boy, and he knew it. The swashbuckler hated getting dirty, bad smells and enjoyed the finer things in life. Soft beds, good food, the company of charming ladies. He was not, despite cultural stereotypes, a badawī of the high desert, living in camel and tent. He admitted, even to himself, to having lived a somewhat coddled life and things handed to him. No desert wolf.

But compared to these people, he was Saadet Akoujan herself, who lived as a hermit in the Napsune Mountains alone for forty years. They had been here for hours, hours! and had not even looked for a spring? Stars and sand, they were sheep! No one, not even the most cosseted dandy of his home country would do more. What, did they expect the Gods to come and assist? Maybe they should sit around and pray?

His faint glow of success over the plundering of the Jenivere's stores is quickly replaced by despair.

"Safe to go in there..." Vorya says, closing his eyes and looking up at the sun, as if asking that great blazing ball to smite him down. He raised his voice, addressing the whole assembled group.

"Are we...perhaps unware of the situation here? We are shipwrecked on a isolated, probably deserted island. We have no food, no water, no supplies except those washed up on shore. There is no prospect of rescue except, perhaps, by slaving pirates. And you are asking how safe the forest is? By the Mekhum's forgotten spirits, are you serious. We will all die here, if we don't act! Right here, on this beach, with gulls to pick our bones!" Vorya paused, gathered breath but his outrage was still so full, it seemed to stop his mouth, like a bung in a barrel.

All that came out was, "Fools!" And with that, without looking back, he stalked off toward the trees, hoping to find water.

Please feel free to have him collapse of heat stroke

Fort Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Heat exhaustion was something every Rahadoumi is familiar with. Everyone had seen a slave or beggar collapse in the street with a cramping shudder. Faintness, dizziness, oddly cool skin. Vorya knew the signs and marked a few of them in himself and his new found fellow strandees. They would have to be careful not to overdo it in this hot, sticky air.

So it is with relief that Vorya lets go of the improtu-sled near the makeshift lean-to. It had been a great deal of work (and a fair bit of horror) , but the supplies were worth it.

"Water?" Vorya croaks out, rolling the knots on his sweaty back. "Has anyone found water? This island is pretty sizable and with trees, should be water. We found some booze on the boat, but Aerys is planning to swim in it, I think?"

The rest of the report can wait until he has had a drink...

Voyra picks up the black leather satchel. "This, I think, makes the cut for the bag." he stuffs it in with some of the foodstuffs, "Useful for our situation." He eyes the maps for a moment, "Any of them for this area? It would be great to know where we are and if other ships are likely to pass here? Surely we can't be that far off the shipping lanes...right?"

The money, the thieves tools, and the armor are much less vital. "Fit for the raft, you think? At least isn't isn't heavy armor, it might float itself. Funny, that money is at the bottom of the list right now."

Vorya takes the small ship model in his hands, holding it up to catch the light. It sparkles. "Ah, I think this ship served him well. Let's let it go down with the ship." The swashbuckler places the glass bottle down gently, only for the entire shipwreck to give a lurch.

"And I think we need to get going?"

Vorya has, so far, not given much thought to the actual shipwreck and stranding. Up to now, the swashbuckler had been too busy surviving and getting his bearings. Still, it seemed foolish to just ignore such obvious signs.

"I wonder what happened..." Vorya says out loud. What had happened? Mutiny? Monster attack? Some sort of mind control? But how to account for the foorprints on the beach? Something was going on here. Maybe they would find out later.

"Maybe we'll find out later, " Vorya replies to Ishirou and only then catches the man's eye. The atheist glances down at his own weapon and shrugs, "If you think I did that, well, my best evidence is me here with you. Why would I kill people just to strand myself on this island? Strange hobby."

Shaking his head, Vorya turned his attention to the pile of supplies. Rather large pile actually. It made sense that a full ship would hold quite a lot of gear but just how much had never occurred to him. Far more then they could carry, let alone struggle up the cliffside....

Vorya glanced through a broken chunk out of the wall, onto the churning bubbling water. Maybe they wouldn't have to carry it.

"I have an idea. We keep the most valuable and fragile items in our bags, the rest we lash together and make a simple raft of barrels and wood. Lower it all in the water and hope it washes up on the beach or rocks below? Beats letting it sit here to be bashed to pieces by the waves. At least we might be able to save some of it."

He grinned, "Ishirou, I assume your sword will go on the raft?"

Untrained Heal: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (10) + 0 = 10

First, despite the corpses, Vorya and his allies do focus on the food. That is why they are here after all, their own lives hang in the balance. So they grab bottles, vegetables and meat, stuffing things into sacks and bags. It isn't enough to feed them all forever, but at least keep them alive for a few days which, hopefully by that time.....well, who knows.

Soon though the looting is done and Vorya looks at the two mangled bodies of Piper and, outside the door, Devers.

"How do we want to take care of them?" Vorya says, indicating the dead. "We don't have the time or ability to do them justice." He contemplates things for a moments and offers, "Wrap them in shrouds and drop them over the side? I think that is what sailors do, at least in the stories." He looks at Aerys and Ishirou for any ideas.

"After that, I am thinking the storerooms? Tools will be useful. I don't fancy having to build a shelter without at least a hammer or a saw. Some rope might help climbing out of here, as well. Then we need to hurry, this whole wreck is coming apart." Another wave batters the stricken Jenivere , shaking it from stem to stern (or what is left of stem and stern).

Attack, Flanked, Precise Strike: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24
Damage: 1d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 4 + 3 = 13

Finally. Vorya third attempt hits home, the sunsilver blade winking in the dancing light of the rocking, shattered vessel. Maybe Vorya had finally mastered the swaying ship...or just got lucky? Luck existed, even if the gods took credit for it.

In any case, it was about time to end this before one of them was horribly wounded. The last they needed was a nasty injury while stranded on an empty beach. And so with more then a little relief when he saw the blade sink deep between the eel-woman's shoulder blades. The edge grated slightly on her spine before jutting through her chest, like a fisherman's hook.

The creature fell limp and, after a moment Vorya felt safe enough to say, "Well, that was unpleasant. Ishirou, you still with us?" He glanced at Aerys, "Nice moves. Now, let's see what is here and hope it was worth it."

Perception for food worthy of being taken. Unspoiled, doesn't rot easily: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

Vorya has enough presence of mind to reflect on the irony that where two men with swords had failed, a woman attacking with her bare fists succeeded. Maybe he and Ishirou should be less enamored with their blades. Clearly there is more out there.

Still, with the mermaid beast surrounded, they may have better luck. Already it seemed slightly confused with enemies of all sides, and the configuration let them use their numbers more effectively...

Flanking Attack!: 1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 9 + 2 = 14

Sigh

This time, even as the blade slices down, the eel-woman's tail flicks at Vorya's wrist. While soft, the blow is enough to deflect his strike, and it bounces off an iron pan like a poorly made bell.

"Onaku's left eye!" Vorya curses. Today was, clearly, not his day.

If it attacks me, I will use a Opportune Parry and Riposte. I'll hide it so you aren't influenced.

Vorya had no idea what he had expected but it hadn't been a half-woman, half-eel creature. tavern tales of singing sirens and mermaids flash through his mind, although in those stores they had always been beautiful and tempting. Well, there was nothing tempting about the crawling blood creature surging toward them. One thing did seem clear.

It was probably for the best that the tongue had been removed.

Still, there was little doubt in the swashbuckler's mind on what to do. He raised the bar of razor-sharp steel in his hand and thrust it at the creature.

Attack!: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13

The steel sliced through the air but the rocking of the ship threw the swashbuckler off, and the blow went wide. Frustrated, Vorya figured they could at least surround the thing. He tries to dance past the creature, so they can flank it.

Acrobatics to pass into the larder and get behind the creature: 1d20 + 9 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 9 + 3 = 21

Vorya was reaching for a battered pot (boiling water would be useful while stranded) when he suddenly spots Devers resting place. Silently he lets his hand fall, and simply stands there, swaying slightly as the ship lurches in the wave action. His nose catches the strange mingled scent of sugar, blood and water-logged wood.

The First Mate had been a good man and a good sailor, excelling in his role. This was an important trait to the Rahadoumi, whose people often highly valued excellence in career or profession. In a worldview that prized self determination and drive, ones personal success were considered a kay part of one's inherent worth. (One reason Vorya preferred to not think about his own current life station...virtually exiled into failure).

Worse for them, obviously the man had not simply died in the wreck. Something had killed the likeable First Mate.

"Go forth, Anton Devers." Vorya said, raising his hand in traditional benediction. "May your path be of your own choice, whatever it may be, in the next step as it was in this."

And that was all they had time for right now.

Vorya looked at his two companions. "Well, here we are. The larder would be useful, we all know that. But clearly something is in there." The larder door thumps again, loudly. "Something other then hardtack. Could be something attracted by the wreck or...something to do with the wreck. So, that's our choice. Do we risk facing this thing or not?"

Vorya held up a hand, "I vote yes, but I'll stand by the general choice if I am outvoted."

The shattered scraps of the ship shudder under Vorya's soles. A groan of tearing wood and twisting metal reached his ears, audible even over the crashing wash of the waves below. This was not a place to linger.

Vorya Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

Vorya was glad the Tian man had found his blade, if only because it would make him more useful in the current survival situation. But he couldn't muster the type of obvious joy the man had in reclaiming his weapon. During his brief time with the Aspis, Vorya had met men and women who clearly really enjoyed weapons, who could talk for hours about heft and balance, about fullers and quillions. That had never been for him. His own blade was worthwhile to him, but because it was striking and beautiful (and could help him fight spiky monsters more easily). He did not love the sword for its sharpness.

Still he mustered a half smile, "Very nice, Ishirou. I'm glad it wasn't lost with the ship."

As he talks, Vorya goes and grabs two of the ever burning torches. After doing so the swashbuckler's eyes sweep the room, "Anyone have a bag or something? Hopefully we can take enough to be worthwhile. What do you think we try the galley next? I don't fancy having to live off Eury-...whatevers for dinner tonight."

Assuming nothing happens, ready to head for the galley

Vorya reflects that he has had better days. Passing out (?) on a sinking ship, washing up on a deserted beach, being attacked by a venomous sea creature and then falling nearly thirty feet onto a rough wood deck.

Yes, he has had better mornings.

Shaking his head clear, the man pulls the splinter from his foot. 'Blessed?" he says to Ishirou. "If this is divine blessing....then proves my countrymen right."

The swashbuckler looks at the swaying, slowly disintegrating ship.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

It was hard to tell much due to the damage the poor Jenivere had endured. The rocks might be a temporary respite but the sea would claim her fully soon enough. They needed to hurry.

"Ishirou," Vorya says nodding to the man, "I assume you'll be looking for your sword? I'll head to the great cabins and grab a torch. Wi be useful. Then maybe belowdecks and see if I can find some food and supplies."

Vorya cocks a head toward the strange, unsettling sound from below. "Assuming whatever that is doesn't have other plans..." Visions of monsters flicked through his mind. Things drawn by the smell of prey.

He glances at Aerys, "As I said on the beach, I'm not in charge. But feel free to come with me if you want. "

Great Cabin first to snag a ever burning torch then maybe head below unless something else catches our eye

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28

Vorya had always had a good sense of balance, a fine inner ear. You'd think that would help with climbing....but it didn't. Not enough anyway. Scrambling down the slope made the swashbuckler feel as nimble and daring as a dog trying to climb a tree. Slowly, carefully feeling for each handhold and foothold, they managed to descend the hot, rocky slope.

Then the atheist sees his nightmare, but not to himself. Aerys slipping and falling, loosing her grip. There is an instant there, to think and react, but there is little choice. Vorya isn't going to let the woman fall. If only because helping is better then climbing (even if much risker!)

Touch attack: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25
Untrained Climb Check: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

Crap. So what, I grab her but we both fall? Good stuff!

Climb Check, Untrained, Panache: 1d20 + 2 + 1d6 ⇒ (11) + 2 + (4) = 17

Sense Motive, Untrained: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

Vorya notes Ishirou slightly unusual placement and wonders. Some misplaced chivalry? Or did the two have a connection, perhaps formed over the long days at sea?

The swashbuckler gazes at the rather unappetizing wreck, pondering. Waiting for a poor option, they would only get weak from here on out, with little food and punishing sun. Besides, who knows what valuable items might get swept away in the meantime? No, the sooner the better.

"I think I like climbing better." Vorya gestured to the swirling blue waves, dotted with white foam. "We have no idea how deep the water is and what might be...in there, attracted by the wreck." Eurypterids, sharks and far worse.

"At least with climbing we can see what we are facing." Vorya looks around the sandy beach. "We'd do better with some rope. Anyone see anything in the surf?"

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

Even without, lets go climbing

Vorya managed to not roll his eyes at Rum and Punch, but does note the mangled pinky. So maybe it isn't all talk...or maybe Aerys just got her hand smacked by a hammer once. Who can say?

As Jask's question the swashbuckler pauses. The man seemed oddly insistent on it. What difference did it make where Vorya was from? Did the man have some deeper reason for asking? Some grudge? Related to his unknown crime, perhaps?

Still, Vorya saw no harm in asking, "The Kingdom of Man, Rahadoum. Ever been?"

Happy to move along to the ship

Vorya decides to address Aerys first and turns to 'confront here', squinting his eyes eyes against the glaring tropical sun. 'I need a hat,' The man thought, eyes already hurting, 'Or maybe a burnoose, like the desert people wear.'

He looks over the half elf from her tri-corn hat to her black sailor shoes, then shrugs, "More is the merrier." If the woman wanted a fight, she wasn't getting one from him. "I just figured we'd leave at least one armed person here incase the crabs came back, or brought bigger cousins." he nodded toward the bow, "Wasn't sure how good that would be inside a shipwreck. But I'm no lord or priest to give orders, do what you want."

First though he looks at Jask, and again at the manacles. Well, maybe he could try breaking them with his rapier? He kneels down, wedges the blade in the chain and tries to snap the iron links.

Breaking Manacles?: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

Nope.

"Well, I tried." Vorya says, wiping sand off his hands. 'Sorry, my friend, but you seems to be tied up for a bit longer. We'll work on it again when we get back. And hey, you never know, maybe we'll find the keys."

Looking again at Aerys, Vorya bows slightly, "Shall we off to the ship, m'lady? "

Vorya stared down at Jask, once again wondering what he had done. The man, notably, didn't mention it himself. Strange though, to be transported after being charged with a crime. The Chelish would sell you into slavery, Taldor fine you, Aspis throw you in debotr's prison and Rahadoum would, mostly to Vorya's disdain, probably just kill you. Who would pay to ship a convict half way around the world to Sargava?

"Well, Jask, you are right about one thing. You could be of use. As the sailor says, this is a 'all hands on deck' sort of situation." Vorya bends down to look at the shackles and then shouts tot he assembled company, "Anyone who knows how to pick a lock? Or else we'll have to bash it with a rock."

At Sasha's words he stands back up and peers at the 'footprints' in the sand. It was hard to tell among tide and wind, but if they all woke up outside the tide....someone had moved them. Sasha was right.

"Well, I think we all have good ideas." The swashbuckler said easily, hoping he sounded more confident then he felt.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21

"In that case, let's spilt up. Sash, you me and Ishirou let's go and try to reach the ship. Like you said, there might be other survivors there. Besides, Ishirou might find his blade. Even better, maybe we can save some food."

"The rest of you here, try to build a shelter and such. Maybe under some of the bushes farther from the water? And if you have a way to start a fire, that would come in handy. " he tried to pitch them less like orders and more like 'useful suggestions'. Activity was key here, the swashbuckler felt. Someone needed to 'take charge', even if they weren't in charge.

Before anything else, Vorya held a brief mental memoriam for his clothes. The richly dyed cloth, bought at a dear price and made by the finest Azir tailors was now a total shambles. They were drenched, stained with salt and grime. A huge rent had one leg flapping in the ocean breeze. A shame and Vorya had a feeling it would be a long time until he found proper clothes again.

Alas.

Back to work, he supposed.

Vorya paced through the sand until he reached the mysterious man shackled. How had a bound man survived a shipwreck? The swashbuckler wasn't much of a swimmer but even he knew you needed to use your arms. Still, at least one thing was cleared up.

Vorya stood over the dark-skinned man, shadow overlapping him. "So, you are, or were I suppose, the resident of Cabin 3?" Vorya cocked his head, "All right, speak up then. Name and rank, if you please."[ Vorya said, in a passable imitation of an Pure Legionaries sergeant at home. He smiled though, to soften the blow. Inwardly he wondered what the man's crimes had been but surely, he was a pardon if there ever was one. There was no way anyone was remaining shackled at a time like this, regardless of what he had done. Survival loomed larger then justice.

Eat them? Arys couldn't be serious. Vorya could barely stand to look at it, let alone contemplate swallowing it. Indeed, the thought made his already sickened state worse, and he nearly 'heaved to', as the sailors joked. But the swashbuckler kept it down and shook his head.

Survival: 1d20 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 - 2 = 11

'It's just a sword." Vorya finally said to the Tian man, once he got his breath back, forgetting his own wonder and joy at finding his own blade. "Come on, we need to check for more survivors. I think I'd recognize most of the crew. See who is missing, and then, maybe, think about venturing to the ship." Vorya points to the battered Jenivere .

"And probably try to see what else is here worthwhile, pull it out of the waves. Food, mainly." The man squints at the water, 'I wonder if the tide is coming in or going out."

Survival to tell, using old washed up plants and stuff?: 1d20 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 - 2 = 14

Ok, going to check the rest of the bodies, try to help living people out of water's reach, see who is missing, all that stuff.

I let it go

Vorya lets the injured lobster retreat back to the whispering surf. The last thing he needs is to chase it and get it angry again. How much more poison can he take? Indeed, his first step is more like a drunken sailor on land for the first time in a month. The usually nimble swashbuckler nearly falls over. The world swirls in lines of bright colors, his stomach no longer upset but seemingly absent.

The fire in his leg seems to grow, burning like a inferno. For the first time real fear crosses his mind, a dark shadow. Was he dying? Was it already too late? There were lethal jellyfish and mollusks, Vorya had heard that somewhere hadn't he?

Fort Save, sickened, Charmed Life (1 left): 1d20 + 0 - 2 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 0 - 2 + 3 = 13

Stumbling, he heads over to Ishirou , barely able to keep upright. 'I..I didn't see it." he repeats, voice slurring slightly with pain and a strange (and worrying) growing lethargy.

Vorya watches the ugly crustacean struggle with the low level plant cover. This thing, that could barely handle a clump of saltgrass was going to kill him? Maybe it already had? His leg throbbed with toxic fury, and the man could feel it spreading through his bloodstream. His vision wavered slightly, stomach chunring. No, he had to kill this thing.

"I didn't see it!" he shouts at Ishirou, not taking his eyes from the menacing crab. Then, delaying no longer, strikes at it.

Rapier Attack, Sickened, Circumstance: 1d20 + 9 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (7) + 9 + 2 - 2 = 16
Damage, trait, precise strike: 1d6 + 4 + 1 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 4 + 1 + 3 = 9

This time at least the steel hits the creature although the sloped, slick shell deflects most of the force. Again, after attacking, Vorya dances backward, hoping against hope he can keep the distance between them. Maybe the injury will slow it down or dissuade it?

Fort Save, Sickened, Con Reduced, Charmed Life (2 left): 1d20 + 1 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 1 + 3 = 9

Sighs....

Fort Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

Bah

Vorya's leg suddenly burned with liquid, toxic fire. It was if someone had taken the bright sun above and poured it into his flesh. Sands below, it hurt! Onaku take this foul creature.

Vorya considered running, at least briefly. How fast could this thing really be? Still, it could be persistent and worse, might turn one of the more helpless passengers strewn across the beach. No, the swashbuckler would have to deal with it.

Somehow.

So far, his attempts had earned him little.

Rapier, Sickened: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10

The blow goes so wide, the lobster doesn't even budge at the flash of steel. A handful of sand goes flying, as if Vorya was a child at the seashore, building sandcastles. Frustration builds up in the swashbuckler. Was he going to die, here? After everything, here at the hands....claws of the some weird lobster creature? His previous thoughts, while sound, had been predicated on the idea he could actually kill the creature. Apparently luck was not with him.

Pride boiling with nearly as much pain as his leg, Vorya backs up out of range of the stinger and claws.

Backing up hopefully far enough that it can't attack my next round.

"Sword!" Vorya says out loud, delighting at seeing the untidy pile of his supplies. Sure, maybe it is all soaked with seawater and piled with sand but still, the stuff survived! Most importantly, the blade!

"I don't think you'll like it, you nasty brute." Vorya says, still out loud. A habit of his, in tough spots. The Legion would have broken it, but the swashbuckler had spent too little time among those grim elite. The dark skinned man eyes the lobster monster, the sand and the blade. Go around or through? He dismissed a lying rock instantly. What was he, some man of the hills to bash in a pest's head with a field stone?

"Through!" He needed that blade, to feel the heavy hilt in his hand. Besides, Vorya was quick and nimble, even when lanced by some poision. How quick could a lobster be, anyway?

Acrobatics to move through a threaten space, +3 with trait, Sickened DC is lobster CMD +10, since I'm moving at full speed which I assume I need. If half speed is enough, then just the CMD: 1d20 + 9 + 3 - 2 ⇒ (17) + 9 + 3 - 2 = 27

Feel free to describe if it gets an AoO

Vorya races past the threatening creature, cool sand again kicked up by his heels. Again his speed his true, long honed. In a moment he is standing at the low pile of salt-stained belongings. Pots, rations, blankets, all tumbled together in a mass, but the swashbuckler only has eyes for one thing.

"Sword!" Vorya shouts again in triumph, pulling the glittering shard of sunsilver free of the scabbard. It glitters like a freshly cut diamond in the tropical sun, turning into a length of sunlight. "Now, let's see how brave you are!" The man says, turning on the beast, sword first.

If it attacks, I'd like to use Parry. I'll post it in full here, since I'll be using this alot

"Yeaarggh!" Vorya exclaims in disgust and surprise, too startled to even properly curse. The strange lobster-creature is bearing down on him, and has, apparently, already attacked. With a speed born both of terror and long training, the swashbuckler rolls to his feet with alacrity.

Using Kip Up, to stand up without an AoO, as a move action.

No weapon, no idea where he is and no clue what this chittering mass of shiny shell is. Easy call. Time to run. Taking to his heels, Vorya does his best to put distance between him and the beast. Still getting his bearings, the swashbuckler runs backwards along the shore.

Using my standard action to move 30 feet AWAY from this thing

Some breathing room gained, Vorya looks around, not only for a weapon but any sign of the ship, other passengers or supplies. Where was he? What was going on?

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (16) + 0 = 16

The sailor really had got Vorya going. The First Mate had proven to be a rather genial man, so far, but people could change quickly. For a second Vorya thought perhaps he had offended the ship beyond friendly banter and into real insult. He had actually winced slightly when the big Mwgani sailor had stood in front of him, fists balled up. For a wild moment he wondered if he should draw his sword? Apologize? Run?

Then the man had laughed and broken the tension. Yet, despite that, clearly something upset Devers, and not Vorya's rather lame jokes. Something altogether more serious. Something with the ship perhaps? Or maybe pay was late? That seemed something sailors would worry about.

The swashbuckler forgets about it...until the ship lurches like a laden wagon dipping into an unseen pothole.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

Vorya rides the unexpected disturbance nearly as well as Devers. The Rahadoumi might not like the constant motion of the sea, but at least his reactions were good. 'Sea legs' were not his problem. Sea ear maybe....But not time for that now. Just what was going on?

For a second Vorya watches the First Mate leave the suddenly disordered Great Cabin, staggering as best he could. Was this something serious? It felt serious, as the ship jolted again.

Curious, and worried, Vorya stole after the sailor, keeping a respectful distance. He was unlikely to be able to help after all, having quickly learned just how little he knew about the strange world of ship handling. Still, he couldn't just sit in the Great Cabin, sipping port, while the ship sank or something. His mind fills with stories.

Sea monsters? Pirates? A great storm?

Vorya headed for the deck as best he could.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (19) + 0 = 19

Once, when disposing of illict books during his training, Vorya had found a strange phrase in a book. It had not been printed text, but scrawled by hand in the margin.

"Praise the sea, but keep on land."

Vorya had no idea who or when those words had been written, but he agreed more then he had ever agreed with anything else, right down to his bones. It wasn't just the dirtiness, brought about by a lack of clean water to bathe in. It wasn't the close confines, elbow to elbow with strangers. It was not even the varied and unpleasant smells.

It was that the world would not stop moving. Even now, standing in the Great Cabin, Vorya felt his world shifting. The boat rocked side to side in the gentle swell, so everything rocked. The lanterns, the chairs, the wall hangings, the people. For days and days his head had been tossed around like foam in the surf, and his stomach with it. While he no longer felt like puking every few minutes it was still enough to take the edge off even Pilts cooking. A shame because, on land, Vorya considered himself a discerning palate.

Still, there was no other way to get to where he was going, except to swim. So, as they said in Cheliax, needs must when the devil drives. He had made the best of it tonight, washing his face and hands in a rain barrel, and putting on his finest clothes. Fine silks, polished buttons, gleaming leather shoes. Overkill for this crowd perhaps....but perhaps not.

At Gelik Aberwhinge's rather effusive greeting Vorya paused and bowed in formal fashion (although it was something he had learned, Rahadoumi did not really go in for bowing).

"Well said, Master Aberwhinge. If we weren't going to be in the way, I would almost suggest we eat on deck. I find fresh air to be quite the spice for a well cooked meal."

When the gnome suggests a toast, Vorya happily takes up the challenge. Lifting up a pewter cup full of (rather nice) wine the swashbuckler says, "I think I speak for all of us when I say, 'We salute the good ship Jenivere and her crew....and hope to never make their acquaintance again. Once is enough!" And with that he starts to drain the cup.

Feel free to have that go over like a lead balloon

Where in Alaska, GM? My brother just moved to Anchorage on Sunday. Enjoy your trip!

I've never fought a slurk before. Nice find GM

is urelleth supposed to be inside the room already?

"Good, cause this job stinks." Vorya quips back. However, his bravdo hides how much that attack hurt, and he is happy to drop back and let Uruelleth take the brunt.

Is the mist blocking my attack chance?

Man, I hope you guys follow my advice and save me while I'm screaming.

Stealth: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

Vorya nods, "I'll go ahead. If I start screaming, come save me."

Vorya raises an eyebrow at Kilarra, "Are you saying you actually trust someone enough to carry you over an endless pit? Are you going soft?"

"That could have went better." Vorya says, eyeing the chasm. "Talia, I would hate to wait a night. Who knows what they will do with that long to prepare. Not only more traps and dangers, but simply fleeing with our quarry. I don't want to have to dig them out of every bolt-hole in the city."

He turns to Uruelleth. "And if you don't make it?"