*A bent and bedraggled old Gnome steps forth from the shadows of the rain lashed deck you are currently standing upon. He serves little purpose now but to regale the crew with stories and songs of the times that used to be. This aged man spins his tales with such force and conviction however that all who listen are convinced that they are standing next to these legends of a forgotten era. He pauses for a moment before he begins to speak.*
Avast yea scurvy ridden old sea dogs! Gather round now! For this is a tale of a group of unlikely companions. A story of men and women from different backgrounds, kingdoms, and countries from all across (and underneath) the various nations of Golarion. These poor sods were thrown together in the hold of a pirate ship called the Wormwood. Those people, these beings, and ultimately this crew, may have gone on to change the face of politics and (more importantly) the opportunity for plunder in and around the islands called the Shackles forevermore.
The Goddess of pirates and sea monsters is a fickle lady however, and she may have turned her gaze (and luck on saves) away from these particular humanoids in due time... But every epic yarn has a beginning, and this one is theirs.
The Formidably Maid in Port Peril’s “dockside neighborhood” may seem an… unlikely source of a launching point for such a world altering narrative. It is true however, that every person of interest to you, my gathered listeners would have noticed had passed through this rather ordinary, rough around the edges, run down, and oftentimes downright mean old tavern at some point during the evening of the now legendary parties “recruitment”. The fact that they later had a “burning desire” to revisit it (and its bartender) at some point only adds to its appeal and luster.
These creatures ran the gamut of races in Golarion, although to be honest most of them were half elven. All were of different nationalities to be sure, and most would have never even dared to dream of working with let along fighting alongside a Drow, a half Elf from another land, an Undine, or a Gnome. But such is life aboard a pirate vessel. You adapt or you get keelhauled. If you are lucky.
The only party member not to be found inside the Maid when the excitement began was the half elven Druid. She was (not so) secretly following the senior officers of the Wormwood after their attempted sale of an exotic snow leopard for the infamous pirate Captain Harrigan. She wished to save the beast from such a cruel fate. A blow to the back of her head while she was “surveying the ship for weaknesses” ended her crusade for the remainder of the evening.
The rest of our band of surly cutthroats were enjoying the “atmosphere” of the Maid. To be honest actually, all were by turns content or ecstatic except the half elf Fighter. She was much too busy getting kicked in the face by a monk (npc) in a “bare knuckles brawl“ contest in the fighting pit at the far end of the bar. After her defeat (pun intended) she did come around long enough to try and spit defiantly at the winner. “Yea kicked me in the face you swarmy blasted son of a goat!” She spat, “By Besmara’s blade I swear I’ll get you back for that!” She cried.
The “health potion” she drank shortly afterwards ended her night after that.
The half elven cleric of Besmara actually won quite a bit of gold betting on the Monk in the fight. She was very, very happy about that, but the (several) rounds of drinks she bought in celebration of that fact were not exactly what she had ordered. And cost quite a bit more than she thought they would as well.
The Gnomish Rogue and his “new bestest friend *hic*” the Undine Sorcerer were too excited by the prospect of the “free booze!” being offered by the Cleric to notice its odd aftertaste. Until the next morning that is when it was much too late to start being wary of such things.
Which leaves us with the Drow. A “slightly abnormal” surface dwelling Drow to be sure, but a dark elf none the less. His bearing and mannerisms reminded the oldest patrons of the alehouse of a similar looking elf who had brought a reign of infamy and terror to the Shackles decades ago. He stayed aloof of the goings on around him, politely refusing all “extra” food and drink offered to him. When he noticed the others being dragged out by their “friends” though, he decided that it was time to go to his nearby inn for the evening. Four additional “friends” with saps from the Wormwoods crew ensured that his peaceful nights sleep would be aboard a ship of Captain Harrigans choosing however.
So it was that this wild bunch of hooligans from far away places found their fates intertwined in the hold of a creaky, aging, and decidedly deadly pirate vessel. Where did it take them? Aye lads, that is a story for another day.
*His job done for the night the aged Gnome Bard retires for the evening, to continue his tale on another night.*