[PF] Skull & Shackles IC

[nazgulnine]

Skull & Shackles, 1: The Wormwood Mutiny
(warning: big picture)http://s19.postimage.org/pib609dfn/storm_by_blinck_d30bli2.jpg

You awaken to the sound of creaking wood and shuffling feet. The room you are in is lit by nothing but a small lanthorn hanging from the rafters. You try to get up, but immediately sit back down; the room is spinning, and won't stop rocking. Then you notice the rocking isn't from your hangover, which, by the way, the intensity of your headache leads you to believe you've been up all night drinking with Cayden Cailean himself. As you put your hands up to nurse your pounding headache, you notice they are bound tightly with rope.

How did this happen?! You ask yourself this question, doing everything in your power to calm down. You can remember a night at the pub in Port Peril. The Formitably Maid, she was called. And someone slipped something in your drink. Maybe it wasn't such a wise idea to trust those men? The shuffling of feet beyond the door ahead of you draws near. How exactly did you get yourself into this mess? There are five others just like you in the hold beside you.

[Phasm]

A muffled groan sounds from one corner of the hold. Zamari blinks in the dim lantern light, her head pounding as if a troupe of drunken drummers was using it for a drum. How much had she had to drink last night? And where is she? Obviously not aboard the Stargazer, given that someone's tied her up. The healer swears bitterly, then immediately regrets it as her headache flares to new heights.

Press-ganged. That has to be it. A slaver would have put her in manacles; leaving a slave tied with rope for too long damages the 'merchandise'. And fool that she was, part of the evening she does remember is using her oracle powers to create a globe of water over two drunken brawlers' heads. She had soaked them thoroughly, much to the amusement of the crowd. If anyone there knew their spellcraft, they would know that only divine power can create water like that. With my crippled leg, I might as well have put up a big red sign saying 'Vulnerable healer here! Press-gang me, I'm too slow to run away!'

The dark-skinned woman sighs, checking herself over as best she can. Her pack is gone, naturally, but they had left her adventurer's sash and its attached satchel on her. The satchel has a familiar and comforting weight to it; hopefully that means they left her healer's kit there. Makes sense if they want me to be their ship's medic. And it's not as if a healer's kit has any value to the untrained.

Zamari looks over her fellows in this mess. An elf, a plump Kelish woman (are those pointed ears? It's hard to see in the dim light), a powerfully built man of uncertain lineage, and... is that a goblin? Great. Why would anyone press-gang a goblin? Hopefully it's at least somewhat civilized.

[Iron Victory]

The large man stirs, coming to consciousness in silence. Hastur's large yellow eyes flicker open. Was he dead? Had the sea claimed him? No, this wasn’t hell, although the pounding in his skull argued otherwise. Reaching to feel the back of his head, it takes him a moment to realize his hands are bound. The ranger waits patiently as his vision adjusts to the dim light. This was obviously not the work of slavers; they would not be so sloppy. In all likelihood the captives, him included, had been press-ganged. Hastur evaluates his “companions." A Garundi girl, a soft Kelish women, an Elf pretty-boy and... *sigh* ...a goblin. Obviously the men who abducted this motley were not picky.

What a fool he was for getting piss drunk in such a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Hastur vaguely recalls his heavy drinking at the Formidably Maid, and the feeling of the ocean flowing around him. Everything else is a painful blur. Nothing can be done at the moment, Hastur decides, all that remains is waiting. He shifts around slightly to get more comfortable on the rocking wooden floor, and begins to whisper a prayer. From his mouth comes an angry, guttural tongue.*

Abyssal

[Archpaladin Zousha]

The Qadiran stirs, groggy as she tries to clear her head from the alcoholic haze. On a ship...okay, that wasn't good, because she'd been on dry land last she remembered. Had her grandfather caught up with her? He couldn't have, he'd have locked her in a private room, not thrown her in with a bunch of other people. She stifles a belch, the sour taste of last night's grog flooding her mouth again, as she looks to see who else is with her: a downright delicious-looking elf, a Garundi woman, a rather strapping-looking man and . . . a goblin? An interesting gang to be certain.

[Ganis]

The small runty figure stirs, groaning more from the bump on his head than a hangover. Groggily blinking a few times, he looks over the rest of you and scurry’s as best he can back into the corner, his wooden leg scrapping much louder than your hangover appreciates. Seeing that everyone is bound and not just him, Kavak eyes each of you while licking the rope to see how salty it is. Then he promptly starts to try and eat the rope.

[nazgulnine]

As each of you begins to stir and eye the others around you up and down, you notice the room's spinning fails to slow. The door swings open and the five of you are faced by the blinding light of a fully-lit lantern wielded by a seemingly impossibly tall man in a heavy coat, his long beard braided, whip in hand. He lets loose a crack of his whip against the floor and instructs the six men following him to do something; he seems angry. Five of the six men grab the ropes at your hands and deftly remove them, taking a step back. The man's voice is booming in your ears.
"Still abed with the sun o'r the yardarm? On yer feet, ya' filthy swabs! Git up on deck and report for duty before Cap’n Harrigan flays yer flesh into sa-sa-ges and has Fishguts fry y'up fer breakfast!"

You quickly notice, if you haven't already, that everything you remember carrying with you is now gone. The only things on your persons are the clothes on your backs.

KavakYou lick the ropes and there's a taste foreign to hemp. You notice that the taste is in your mouth, and it is of oily nutmeg. The last thing you remember sampling is a choice bit of rum from a "stupid-looking human's" mug. Before you can eat through your rope, however, one of the pirates gives you a swift blow on the head with a sap as he derides you for trying to eat your restraints.

Take 1 nonlethal Damage.

Everyone please take a perception and intelligence check.

[Ganis]

Kavak winces in pain and he scrambles to his feet, warily eying the new menfolk. The small goblins eyes seem to dart everywhere as he begins to shamble up the steps to the deck. Muttering unintelligibly as he goes.

Perception
[roll0]
Intelligence
[roll1]

[Archpaladin Zousha]

The Qadiran stands and takes her place in the line, wincing a bit as one of the sailors gropes her prodigious behind, but saying nothing.

Perception: [roll0]
Intelligence: [roll1]

[nazgulnine]

KavakYou taste the nutmeg oil and the spice of rum; the oil itself seems unnatural.

You notice the whip-holding pirate is not happy that everyone is taking so long. His hand fidgets. You have no recollection of this man; in fact, all of the pirates simply look like the same human and a gnome to you.

The whip-wielding pirate shouts once more.
"Smartly now, I ain't got all day, princesses!"

The QadiranYou notice the taste of nutmeg oil on your tongue. Last night was awash with food and drink, and you recollect the taste of it in your a mug of spiced rum bought for you by a man oddly resembling the one shouting, whip in hand. He never even gave you his name.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

"Why thank you! It's so nice to be acknowledged by one's proper class. You're such a gentleman. And thanks for the rum last night. That bit of nutmeg gave it lovely flavor," The Qadiran replies as she continues forward with a none-too-cheeky smile.

[Iron Victory]

Hastur finishes his prayer, perhaps taking a few moments longer than he should have, and takes his place among the others. His stoic face reveals little but apathy.


Check results from OOC: (for convenience)
Perception: [16]
Intelligence check: [18]

[Phasm]

"If you wanted speed, you should not have press-ganged a woman with a bad leg." Zamari finally manages to get to her feet, limping over to the line. Normally her crippled left leg doesn't cause too much pain- the special insole in her boot helps with that- but normally she takes care not to sleep on that side. Whoever brought her down here happened to dump her in an awkward position, and now the pain in her leg is rivaling that in her head.

At least it's visibly twisted out of alignment; they won't be able to accuse her of faking an injury. Not even a contortionist can get their leg into a position like Zamari's for very long without hurting themselves.


Rolled my checks on OOC, here's the results.
Int: 11
Perception: 18
Heal, just in case it applies: 8

[nazgulnine]

Hastur
You recognize the whip-wielding man's face well. He challenged you to a drinking contest the previous night. Being of mind to accept any challenge - and influenced by his offer to buy the drinks - you gladly drank everything this man set down, no matter how much spiced rum there was. Thinking about this causes you to lick your dry lips; you find the residual taste of nutmeg oil on your tongue.

Zamari
The whip-man approaches closely; his breath stinks of a mixture of rum and pork.
"What's that I heard? You say sumthin'? You work as fast as I say, or it'll be Orcus yer answerin' to!"
You recognize the man as one of the revelers at the Formidably Maid who offered you some food and a few kind words. Now that you think on it... some of the food he offered you was rather spicy and unpleasant. You notice the smell of nutmeg on your own breath, just like the plump Qadiran woman mentioned. Thinking as hard as you can, you don't recall any potion or medicinal draught having to do with nutmeg.

The whip-wielding man points to the stairs behind him.
"Up, now, all of ye dirty rats!"

[Iron Victory]

Hastur lumbers up the stairs without hesitation, wracking his still sluggish mind for the significance of nutmeg oil. If he does recognize the whip wielding man, he keeps it to himself.


knowledge nature: [roll0]

[Ganis]

Being on a real ship, with real pirates, Kavak is beside himself. He truly can’t think of words to describe what a joyous day this is. Sure, the gnome might be annoying later on, but who cares, Pirates! Jumping at the chance to get in line with the rest of them, this small goblin may be the only one who wants to be here. Brimming with excitement, he will be quite fidgety.

Craft: Alchemy
[roll0]

[ChaosLord29]

Elethir listened to the man barking orders in a state of deep meditation. Whatever drug had been slipped to him in his drink at the Formidably Maid had had a profound effect on him, despite the fact that he was an elf and did not in fact require sleep. Rather, he found his mind wandering quite pleasantly as he reflected upon the events around him as though he were only a spectator in his own body. Thus, when the orders were leveled at him to move, and "be quick about it", it did not readily connect with the elf that these commands were meant as much for him as they were his body. The natural swaying and heave of the ship did nothing to enliven him, after all, he was most at home at the sea anyway, and as long as he was home, how could anything too terrible happen to him?

The crack of the whip however shook Elethir from his reverie, and his eyes snapped up in focus upon the largish whip wielding human barking orders. "Quick as you like then. We will be up on the deck. No need to be fussy." He smiled broadly as he swayed to his feet quite gracefully, grinning widely as he took stock of the situation. Clearly he had been captured for some purpose, but the fact that he was at sea, and that he was not dead seemed to him to be as good a start to the day as any.


Perception: [roll0]
Intelligence: [roll1]

[Phasm]

Zamari wrinkles her nose at the stench of the brutish man's breath, wishing that Gozreh had given her the power to curse people. Next time this ship makes port, I am out of here! Turning, the oracle limps up the stairs behind Hastur. It's a slow process, but she sees no reason to push her sore leg any more than she has to.

[nazgulnine]

HasturYou know this concotion well. Headaches like a drunkard, loss of balance, and even memory loss: these are all symptoms of Taggit Oil poisoning. Whoever this man is, he's the one who poisoned you and dragged you aboard this ship.

KavakWhatever it was, you figure you like the taste of nutmeg.

ElethirYou recognize the whip-man's face from last night; he was skulking around the party at the Formidably Maid. You also notice the taste the Qadiran woman spoke of: nutmeg oil on your tongue.

All
The whipping-man urges you all out the doorway and up some steps. You notice a wide area full of empty hammocks to your left before you take the steps. Ascending the stairs, your eyes take a moment to grow accustomed to natural sunlight, but before you is a wide blue horizon and the smell of salt as a gentle breeze scrapes against your faces. Off in the distance to your stern, you notice a pinprick of an ochre island slowly fade out of view. All around is nothing but sea, and in the center of the ship before the mizzen mast is a bald-headed Garundi man, his long black beard braided and bound with numerous gold rings. An eyepatch embroidered with a dragon's skull sits over his left eye. He's clearly the captain of this ship. Beside him is a younger, balding man, hair tied into a pony tail. He sports a long coat and cat-of-nine-tails, much like the whipmaster who trudges around you to meet this man, eagerly standing behind him.

You notice you're not alone. The six pirates who strongarmed you up the steps take their place at the sides of the ship, and you notice several more men and women who have embedded themselves in the rigging or on deck, staring down at you intently or sneering with pride.

Already huddled about the mizzen mast are four men and a woman, looking as though they'd just suffered the same fate you had. Their eyes are bloodshot, and they shake in their rags.

"Glad ye could join us at last, ladies! Git enough sleep on yer voyage?" The bald Garundi man speaks in a thunderous voice, his pitch like that of an operahouse Don Juan. "Welcome to the Wormwood! Ya' have me thanks for 'volunteering' to join my crew. I’m Barnabas Harrigan. That’s Captain Barnabas Harrigan to you, not that you'll ever need to address me." He glares at Elethir and shoots a dirty look at Kavak. "I have only one rule—don't speak to me!! I like talk, but I don't like your talk." He struts past you, his eyes falling on Hastur and the Qadiran. "Follow that rule and we'll all get along fine." He stops and raises his index finger in front of Zamari, shaking it as if he'd just remembered something.

"Oh, and one more thing. Even with you new recruits, we're still short-handed, and I aim to keep what crew I have. There'll be a keelhaulin' for anyone caught killin' anyone. Mr. Plugg!!" The balding young man hops a bit, straightening himself out. "If you'd be so kind as to make pirates out of these lubbers, it'll save me having to put them in the sweatbox for a year and a day 'fore I make Pies out of 'em."

Harrigan struts away, his boots slapping against the tarred wood as he makes his way back to his chamber. The regulars start whooping before Mr. Plugg takes a crack of his whip to the deck. He smiles at your group and the other recruits. Its quite unsettling.

"All right, you maggots!" Plugg bellows, his voice nothing but rasp and nails. "I'm undermanned and I need one of you working the rigging. Now get up that mast and get to that crow's nest, on the double!!"

There are plenty of ropes to use to climb the mast. Three of the four set to climbing, and the one who refuses is met with a lash from Plugg's assistant, the whip-man, Master Scourge.

I need a climb check from everyone.

[Ganis]

Jumping at the opportunity to explore more of a real ship, armed with real pirates, Kavak doesn't even pause for Mr. Plugg to finish the command before his spindly body is in motion up the ropes, like the deck just turned to lava, or into a pack of dogs. Either way, there is zeal in the little guy and its almost spilling out. No, not that, that was just phlegm.
Climb check of 18

[Iron Victory]

Ah yes, Taggit Oil, Hastur realized. He recalled the concoction far too well. His father would use it to keep their cargo of flesh docile for transport. The large ranger takes a step towards the whip-man, intent on wringing his neck, before backing off. This was not the moment. Hastur was not a proud man, he could take their insults and their jeers. He would bide his time, and play their games until the moment arrives for him to feed their bodies to the sea. They can keep smiling, Hastur decides, when I get my blades back I'll give them red smiles from ear to ear. He proceeds to ascend the railing.

Climb: [roll0]

[Archpaladin Zousha]

The Qadrian tries to hustle up the rigging, but its clear her bulk is slowing her down compared to the nimble little goblin or the strong young man.

Climb: [roll0]

[ChaosLord29]

Elethir did his best to clamber towards the mizzenmast and seize one of the ropes, but was clearly still quite a little disoriented from the effects of the drug. He kept his footing well enough on deck, and even managed to move with a certain grace against the sway of the ocean beneath them, but his limbs felt heavy and far removed and he was barely able to grip the rope as he began his ascent into the rigging.

[nazgulnine]

The height is quite impressive. As you scramble up the mast, its the sharp-toothed Hastur in the lead, followed closely by the peglegged goblin--it seems his bad leg is keeping him from overtaking the muscly human.

Hastur: 18 feet
Kavak: 16 feet
Qadiran: 8 feet
Zamari: 8 feet
Elethir: 2 feet

I need another climb check. The race is on! :smallamused:

[Archpaladin Zousha]

The Qadiran begins to make some real progress, climbing more through determination than skill.

Climb: [roll0]

[ChaosLord29]

Elethir looks up to see his new companions scrambling their way up the rigging and smiles at their success. Somewhat enthused by the prospect of a race up the mast and enlivened by the sea air and spray (which helps to clear his mind), he redoubles his efforts to make it up into the rigging, still not paying much notice to the whip armed man keen on his own form of encouragement.

Climb:[roll0]
Forgot I'm not wearing my armor or shield in that last roll.

[Iron Victory]

Using his massive strength, Hastur continues to haul himself up the ropes with great speed. He couldn't care less whether or not he "wins," but now was the time to appear useful.

Climb check result: 22

[nazgulnine]

As it stands:

Hastur: 32 feet
Qadiran: 26 feet
Kavak: 16 feet
Elethir: 16 feet
Zamari: 8 feet

Still need a second Climb from Kavak and Zamari. I'll take the third set of rolls if you're eager.

[Phasm]

After two years of getting around a ship with a bad leg- a ship that regularly passes the Eye of Abendego- Zamari knows how to compensate. She still isn't on par with most able-bodied sailors, but she can climb if she wants to. Having a brute with a whip behind a person makes them want to climb. Grimly, the oracle keeps going.


[roll0]

[Ganis]

Not paying attention to the others progress, Kavak still zips up the ropes with zeal, his peg leg one with him.
Ok, Climb checks away!
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
Just in case you need more than 3

[Iron Victory]

Getting close to the crow's nest*, Hastur continues to pull himself upwards with single-minded purpose.


3. [roll0]
4. [roll1]
5. [roll2]

*I assume... How tall are masts anyway?

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Climb checks: [roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[ChaosLord29]

Elethir, now much more in the spirit of things does his best to make up for lost ground and time, hurtling through the rigging making best use of his fey agility.

Climb Checks:
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[nazgulnine]

Final Result:
1st: Hastur: 60ft
2nd: Elethir: 60ft
3rd: Qadiran: 53ft
4th: Kavak: 52ft
5th: Zamari: 30ft

Pleased with the results, Plugg calls for you to come down.
"Looks like I've got me a new rigger! And a strapping young lad he is!" He laughs in Hastur's direction and turns to the rest of you, looking each and every one of you up and down.
"I want an answer! This one's a matter of necessity, now. Old Fishguts is a nasty drunk. And I'm tired of eating the slop he puts into the pot! I need one of ya' ta' keep an eye on 'im and get the food on the table. Now. Which one'a ya' dogs knows yer way 'round food? And I'm not talkin' bout grissle'n'lard fer eats!" Mr. Plugg seems to be demanding a response, but he shoots a particularly nasty look at Kavak as he shouts his last words.

[Iron Victory]

With new found respect for the elf, Hastur leans back against the mast. Upon mention of a cook, his eyes immediately fall upon the plump half-elf. She looks like she's more than a bit familiar with food. His stomach quietly rumbles, the burly young man realizes he hasn't eaten anything substantial in quite awhile.

[Phasm]

Zamari truly hopes that one of her companions in misfortune knows how to cook. If Fishguts' cooking is bad enough to disgust this foul-breathed beast, she has absolutely no desire to taste it. She would take over the galley herself if she had any idea how to cook.

"I am no cook. I am a ship's carpenter; you will have found carpenter's tools in my pack, should you doubt my claim." Let them suffer under whatever miserable excuse for a ship's surgeon the Wormwood has when they get injured or sick. Zamari isn't going to say or do anything even remotely resembling healing except on the other press-gang victims if she has a choice.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

"Depends on what you mean by "knowing your way around food." I know next to nothing about cooking, but I know everything about eating. If you give me a chance though, I'm willing to learn. I probably won't be able to replicate the fine feasts held back in Katheer, but I can certainly do better than lard and gristle. I also know my way around a ledger, if your quartermaster needs assistance, sir."

The Qadiran rubs her pot belly a bit, remembering that while she was used to sailor fare from her time on the Gulzar, this ship was a lot less orderly...and clean. And the idea of eating gristle and lard was not appealing in the slightest.

[Ganis]

Kavak beams brightly, waving his arm, "I love foods, I knows all about foods and stuffs. You can pickle it, smash it, splay it, broil it, bake it.." getting that much out before one of the other pirates smacks him upside the head to shut him up.

Muttering to him self "At least I can try to cook"

[nazgulnine]

"What say you, Master Scourge?" Mr. Plugg asks, turning to his tall, dour-faced associate.
"Goblin had some queer draughts on 'im when we got 'im. Lots of nice things we gave to Longfarthing. The girl claims 'erself some sort'a royalty."

Plugg scoffs and looks the goblin and Qadiran up and down for a while before finally deciding with a pretentious snort in his throat. He points to the Qadiran woman and announces, "We have a bit of a hog on board this time around, an' one what knows her way 'round the kitchen! Hopefully her ventures inta' the kitchens won't fatten 'er up much more! Report ta' Fishguts, princess."

"As fer the rest'o ya. I've got swabs what need hands! So get a mop and git swabbin'!" Plugg makes his orders known without any quiver in his voice and a crack of his whip, a trait Master Scourge no doubt has picked up on.

Hastur
"Yer on mainsail duties, lad! Look ta' Narwhal Tate." Plugg points out an elderly dwarf with a large nose who is to oversee your work on lifting and lowering the sail. Working in the rigging is a barefoot human woman, a gangly-armed halfling, a scowling Rahadoumi, and a slightly unhinged-looking human woman.I need 2 things:
1. a Profession:Sailor or Strength check (your choice)
2. a Constitution check

Kavak
"Yer on swabbin' duty, greenskin! Take a mop'n git swabbin'!" Working with you are Elethir and Zamari, alongside three human females, three human males, a half-orc man, a half-elf woman, and a gnomish woman, all swabbing the deck, tying knots, or running objects.I need a Strength or Constitution check (your choice)

Elethir and Zamari
"You two! Haul ropes, tie knots! Yer gonna be running coils to and fro, listen ta' Jape, not that he'll say much." Plugg and two other humans, a skunk-haired woman and a fat man, chuckle deeply as Plugg points out a jaundiced half-orc, his expression stone-faced as he works silently tying knots, his back to a corner.I need 2 things: a Profession:Sailor or Strength check (your choice) from both of you, and a Constitution check from both of you (this one is mandatory :smalltongue:).

All
"All right. Now listen up, new-comers. Ye've got until sundown ta' complete yer tasks! Then, ye'll be treated ta' the Bloody Hour before dinner. After punishment and the meal, yer free ta' roam the ship till dawn bell n' breakfast. But don't wary off to the cap'n's cabin or Longfarthing's room, lest ya' wanna die a painful death."

Qadiran
"C'mere, you. We're goin' ta see Fishguts. Hopefully he's not too far inta the bottle today. Scourge, you take care-a the rest!" Mr. Plugg walks you down to the room where you first awoke and through a rear door into a room smelling heavily of fish and seafood.
"Kroop, where are ya? Oy, Fishguts! What's that smell?"

"Ye, I'm up. Whussmatter?" Sitting in a chair before a cutting board is a man slumped over a pile of pinkish-looking meat. His apron is soiled in the same sort of material, and the man has eyes as red as a tiefling's skin. He lets out a sorry hiccup here and there, and his head sways subtlely from side to side as he struggles to his feet. "Who's this, Plugg?"

"Got ya an assistant, Kroop. Work 'er to the bone. I'm goin' back updeck." With that, Mr. Plugg slams the door shut as he trudges back to the main deck.

"Well, you're my ass'sant. Tha's good, ye got a good face, an' that's refreshing. Now listen, it’s poison, this ship, but don’t let anyone hear you say it. The hull listens, see, and the cap’n hears it all. Poison the Wormwood is, though, rotten to the core! You'll not meet a more nasty, sour, piece-a work than Cap'n Harrigan in all your days at sea. His crew's the same. Specially the first mate, Mr. Plugg, that vicious little sod. He'd slit his own mama's throat fer a copper, he would. But dey leave me alone, mostly. Dey know I can’t harm 'em. C'mere, missie. Dere's more things at stake." He beckons you closer and points to his table. "We got dinner ta' cook. I'm makin' stew, but I need some turtles. Be a dear'n go updeck. Take a net, they won't boffer you, 'n catch up some turtles."
I need either a Profession:Sailor or Survival check (your choice) from you when you go fishing

[Iron Victory]

Hastur reports to his post without complaint. Tonight he would explore the ship, but at the moment there's work to be done. Under his breath he pleads for Dagon to place a curse on the Wormwood and its whole damned crew.

Strength Check: [roll0]
Constitution Check: [roll1]

[Phasm]

This won't be the first time Zamari has worked the lines, but it will be the first time that that was her official job. A ship under sail usually needs enough small repairs (and occasionally large ones) to keep a carpenter busy. Muttering some of the more interesting Polyglot curses she learned from the Stargazer's crew, the oracle grimly sets her hand to the task. At least the half-orc who will be watching her and the elf doesn't seem actively cruel like Plugg and the man with the whip.

As she starts hauling next to the elf, Zamari addresses him in a low voice, just loud enough to be heard over the general commotion of the ship. "I am Zamari, ship's carpenter and healer on the trading vessel Stargazer... or formerly so, I suppose. Who are you?" Her accent is noticeably Rahadoumi, to those familiar with the Land of Man.


Con: [roll0]
Sailor: [roll1]

[Archpaladin Zousha]

The Qadiran rolls her eyes a bit at the man's crude comments, but salutes when he tells her to report to the cook.

"Aye aye."

When she sees Fishguts she frowns a bit, more out of pity than anything else, especially when he begins to warn her about the ship.

"Thanks for the advice, Mr. Kroop. Out of all the pirates I've seen today, you seem a good man. I'll get you some turtles nice and quick."

She goes up deck and grabs a net, checking the water for the wake of a turtle, casting once she spots it, not used to catching her own food. In the meantime, she thinks about what he said. A ship with a meanness in it that seeped into the crew. He was probably speaking metaphorically, but she recalled her lessons in magic. Sometimes in a place where atrocities are committed, the wrongness of it lingers and infects the people there. Cheliax was such a place, she could see that just from the Gulzar's deck. Rahadoum too. While she'd ran away for freedom to do what she wanted, but if the places she was running to were just as bad or worse, then perhaps it was folly. Maybe her grandfather had a point...

Profession (sailor): [roll0]

[Ganis]

Sighing heavly, he goes to grab a mop to swab him some decks. "cooking food isn't much diffrent, I would think." sighing again he starts his duties.

Con check
[roll0]

[ChaosLord29]

Elethir has begun at this point to more or less blink away his previous drugging, and begin to really take stock of his situation. It would appear he has been more or less pressganged into service on this ship, and would not be continuing his diving and explorations up and down the coastline any time soon. Still, he was at sea, and assured himself that this, more than anything, was a good sign of his fortunes to come. After all, he counted himself as faithful to Besmara as any who plied forbidden waters seeking sunken treasure, perhaps now that he was aboard a pirate ship proper, he would see the evidence of her blessings all the more.

Elethir's smile and cheer seemed more or less unflappable as he set about his business, beginning to haul lines and tie ropes. It was a familiar task that he carried out, having long sailed on a number of different boats, including his own small dingy, not long ago. His fellow press-mate seemed amenable to the task as well, and even began to strike up a hushed conversation as they worked. "I am Elethir." he replied, quietly, but still smiling as he went about his work, looking from Jape to the other more seasoned crew members. "Explorer, diver, and treasure seeker. My parents were of the Mordant Spire, but I count any place at or on the sea to be my home."


Sailor:[roll0]
Con:[roll1]

[nazgulnine]

Hastur
You work diligently, and your stoic nature earns you a pat on the back and a wink from two of your fellow riggers: Barefoot Samms and "Ratline," the gangly-armed halfling. The others seem to be disgusted, however, and scowl in your general direction, using names you'd often given to fugitives to describe you.
You've earned 100xp. Samms and Ratline are "indifferent" to you, but hold you in regard. The others are "unfriendly" and "hostile"

Zamari
The work is tough and monotonous, but you're used to hard work. No one bothers you, but the conversation with Elethir seems to have made the work go by quicker than you'd imagined. When sun sets and the shipbell is rung, the other swabbers either move past you or give you a shove and mutter something about 'lollygagger.' Master Scourge seems to have disliked your eagerness and gave you and Elethir an earful apiece about "keeping on it."
You've earned 100xp. The swabbers are either "indifferent" to you or "unfriendly."

Qadiran
You manage to catch several leatherback seaturtles and some kelp in your net. Returning the bunch to Kroop, he smiles and gives you a pat on the shoulder.
"For a moment there I thought you'd be utterly useless. Tough gettin' good meat 'round 'ere. Now let's git cookin'."
You've earned 100xp. Kroop seems pleased with your work.
Now I need a Profession:Cook check (this is an "aid another" usage that can be done untrained).

Kavak
Your work goes by quite slowly with nothing to do but mop, but a young human man named Jack seems to feel sorry for you, and asked you if the bruise on your head hurt: it seems the blow you received from the sailor below deck has left a small red knob. Like the other pirates, he seems to be a bit uneasy around you despite his concerns.
You've earned 100xp. Like Zamari and Elethir, the swabbers are either "indifferent" or "unfriendly" toward you.

Elethir
Zamari's company has made the work go by quickly, but the reprimand from Master Scourge startled you a bit. At the end of the day, your muscles are sore all over and you feel as though you'd sleep for days if you were to lay down now.
You've earned 100xp, but have the "fatigued" condition.

A fatigued character can neither run nor charge and takes a –2 penalty to Strength and Dexterity. Doing anything that would normally cause fatigue causes the fatigued character to become exhausted. After 8 hours of complete rest, fatigued characters are no longer fatigued.
The other swabbers are either "indifferent" or "unfriendly" to you.

All
The crew gathers at the order of Captain Harrigan. His expression is more dour than usual as Master Scourge's swearing can be heard from the stairs leading below deck.
"Move, ye stinking bilge-lubber!" The crack of his lash is heard as a gaunt man stumbles onto the deck, his clothing sopping wet. Mr. Plugg relieves Master Scourge of his duty and watches as Jaundiced Jape and Narwhal Tate grab the man by his arms.
"Jakes Magpie!" captain Harrigan addresses the wet human man and approaches him with a glare in his eye. "Cutthroat Grok accuses you of stealing from her shop. How d'you plead?"
"I already told these two favored of Lamashtu," Jakes spits. He is given a second lash for impertinence. "I did it."
"Damn right you did!" A half-orc woman approaches the deck, hands on her hips. Her throat bears a long razor-thin scar indicative of her name and she has several hatchets hanging from her apron. "I'm not an idiot, and anyone with half a brain would notice two missing longswords and a handful of potions of cure light wounds that wouldn't just get up and dance away! I shudder to think what woulda happened had Plugg and Scourge not found 'em!"
"I've heard all I care to," Harrigan laments. "Mete your judgment, Mr. Plugg."
"Looks like its a keelhauling for Jakes Magpie." Mr. Plugg is joined in his derisive chortle by Master Scourge as the rest of the crew whoops like wild animals. Jape and Narwhal are holding down the thrashing and cursing Magpie, whose spit manages to reach Hastur, Elethir, and a brown-haired woman who were standing too close.

Two thick ropes are wrapped below his armpits and tied. His hands are bound behind his back and the half-orc and dwarf expertly toss him over the side of the ship, turning and joining Plugg and Scourge in holding the ropes. A loud crash as his body hits the water drowns out Magpie's screams.

Hastur, KavakYou both notice the relish with which Plugg tortures Magpie, tugging at the ropes with a twisted grin on his face.

The moments pass in anticipation; the entire crew seems on edge, awaiting the "big reveal." After one minute and fifteen seconds, Captain Harrigan orders Plugg to bring him back up. With a tug and a yank, the four men draw in Jakes Magpie. What appears on the other end is a bloody mess and irrecognizable as having been human. The soft, dark flesh is dripping blood and within moments Harrigan has had enough.
"Toss it to the sharks; Magpie is no more. What remains is my payment to Gozreh."

Without quarrel, Plugg addresses Jape and Narwhal, who toss the corpse as far as they can into the ocean.

Kavak, ZamariYou both get a good look at the remains. Magpie suffered a horrendous thrashing beneath the ship, and from your histories with injuries at sail, you're able to identify the lacerations being from barnacles and coral that had grown under the hull. His body is slightly discolored, as though he had taken in a large quantity of water.

All-in-all, Jakes Magpie suffered 28 points of damage and drowned.

"Now... I'm all for eats. Let the dinner commence!" Harrigan returns to his quarters and is followed by Plugg, Scourge, and a young Garundi woman. Five other humans join him, and a young girl in her early teens is seen running trays of food up to them.

The brown-haired woman who stands beside Elethir and Hastur wipes the spit from her face and scoffs.
"Well, that was....barbaric." She turns to Hastur. "Name's Quinn. Sandara Quinn. That half-orc lady? Grok? She's not a bad gal once you get to know her. Little rough on the edges, but I wouldn't go as far as to rob her blind. There's a merchant on board a ship, you treat 'em nicely and they'll return the gesture, I figure. Got me these." She shows off two daggers and the leather vest she wears. "Got me my gear back after I was press-ganged last week."

The majority of the crewmen have headed downstairs to sample the supper made by Kroop and his new assistant.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

"I'm a fast learner," she replies with a wink.

"Let's get started!"

She watches Kroop cook and does her best to help. While not a trained cook, she manages not to mess it up. She's tempted to snatch a bit of turtle as a snack, but thinks better of it. Better to wait until dinner and avoid a lashing from whoever that man was that woke her up.

While they're cooking, she talks with her new boss.

"So how did you end up on board? Same way I arrived this morning? How long have you been here? How'd you become the cook? Anything else I should know about the crew, unspoken rules and such?"

Profession (Cook) check: [roll0]
After the keelhauling, The Qadiran is glad she chose not to snack, else she'd be vomiting right then and there. Once the horrible affair is over, she joins Mr. Krrop and begins dishing out turtle to the crew, who are likely eager for a pretty face to serve them rather than their normal, haggard galley-man.

[Iron Victory]

Hastur is in high spirits to have some kindred souls onboard, rigging is a dull task. At least not all the crew on this accursed ship are monsters. His normally stoic exterior fades slightly as the large ranger tries to ingratiate himself with Ratline and Samms.

He joins the crowd and watches the keelhauling with a face like stone. It was unfortunate, but there was nothing he could do. It was disgusting how much Plugg enjoyed the punishment. He'd seen men like him, sadists who take joy in the pain of others. Hastur vows to gut Plugg, preferably slowly. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but the man would die. He wipes the spittle from his cheek. Dagon claims another...

When Sandara introduces herself, Hastur turns to her and responds kindly, allies would be useful. "Greetings Sandara, I go by Victarion." He gives her what in his mind was a smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. Regarding Grok, he shrugs "I suppose she might not be. Sometimes one must do unkind things to survive, when in unkind company." Upon hearing the possibility of getting his gear back, Hastur is elated. "Thank you for the suggestion. If I may, how did you convince her to give you those? I would have thought that Grok might be hesitant to break the rules for our kind, lest she end up like old Jakes..."

[nazgulnine]

Qadiran
Kroop chuckles a bit and takes a long swig from his tankard; you soon learn he does this a lot, and often.
"I've been here longer'n I care-ta remember. Started out as a competitive eater back'n Port Peril. Most people think ma' nickname--Fishguts--comes from what I serve." He has a good laugh at this. "Nahh, I could eat damn near anything, more of it, n' faster'n anyone, they said. Once wolfed down an entire bucket-a boiled eggs back'n the Salty Swab fir thirty gold pieces. Used ta' be the head chef at the Armored Lobster. Swanky hole, that. Got inta a spot of trouble n' wound up here after joinin' ship after ship. Been three years. Three long years..." Kroop's disposition changes for the worst; he happily glugs another spot of rum while he prepares the soup, sprinkling a bit of salt and tasting it. A black cockerel hops onto Kroop's shoulder. Kroop places the spoon to the bird's beak and makes kissing faces. "Howzittaste, Bezebel?" The cockerel slurps and flaps its wings a bit, nipping at Kroop's cheek. "S'blood, I think we've done it, mah girl." Kroop takes another drink and waddles away from the stew, picking at his yellowed teeth with a toothpick.

Hastur
Sandara smiles and winks. She makes sure her daggers are secure and out of sight before continuing on.
"I've got my ways. Come find me in the belowdecks after supper." With a skip in her step, the woman heads below deck.

After dinner and the rum rations are doled out, various "pirate entertainments" take place on deck or below, for as long as people are sober enough to participate. In addition, you can each take a single nighttime ship action, listed below.

Nighttime Ship Actions
Sleep: Go to bed early and sleep through the night (automatically recover from fatigue; Resting is a separate action and not counted in this list)
Gamble: Play or gamble on a game of chance or pirate entertainment
Entertain: Make one Perform check to entertain the crew
Influence: Attempt to influence a single NPC
Sneak: Take time exploring one area of the ship. You can take 20 on a single Perception check or other skill check, but must make an appropriate Stealth or Sleight of Hand check to avoid being discovered.
Steal: Attempt to open a locked door or locker. You must make an appropriate Stealth or Sleight of Hand check to avoid being discovered.

[ChaosLord29]

Elethir observes the keelhauling without much emotion, offering up a simple prayer to Besmara for granting this man the justice and mercy of the sea. "Praise to the Pirate Queen." He says, with a touch of sarcasm to his voice. It is not out of disrespect, towards the dead man nor the goddess, simply that he understands that to live one's life by the rule of the sea and to worship Besmara in practice or in living, is to invite such a doom upon oneself.

Turning back to Zamari, he smiles jovially, their previous berating seeming a small price to pay compared to Jakes' fate. Picking up on Sandara's little bit of information on how she retrieved her gear, he resolves to find the time tomorrow to approach the orcish woman and get back his tridents at the very least. For now though, he decides it best to supper and catch his bunk time early, having been very much drained by the day's exertions.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Qadiran
Kroop chuckles a bit and takes a long swig from his tankard; you soon learn he does this a lot, and often.
"I've been here longer'n I care-ta remember. Started out as a competitive eater back'n Port Peril. Most people think ma' nickname--Fishguts--comes from what I serve." He has a good laugh at this. "Nahh, I could eat damn near anything, more of it, n' faster'n anyone, they said. Once wolfed down an entire bucket-a boiled eggs back'n the Salty Swab fir thirty gold pieces. Used ta' be the head chef at the Armored Lobster. Swanky hole, that. Got inta a spot of trouble n' wound up here after joinin' ship after ship. Been three years. Three long years..." Kroop's disposition changes for the worst; he happily glugs another spot of rum while he prepares the soup, sprinkling a bit of salt and tasting it. A black cockerel hops onto Kroop's shoulder. Kroop places the spoon to the bird's beak and makes kissing faces. "Howzittaste, Bezebel?" The cockerel slurps and flaps its wings a bit, nipping at Kroop's cheek. "S'blood, I think we've done it, mah girl." Kroop takes another drink and waddles away from the stew, picking at his yellowed teeth with a toothpick.

"Guess we have something in common, then. Just last night I polished off enough food to make three men sick. That's how I ended up here, actually. That animal with the whip drugged my rum and dragged me aboard."

After the meal's ready, she smiles a bit.

"Kroop, call me Artazostra. Shall we get ready to serve it up?"

[Ganis]

Kavak
Your work goes by quite slowly with nothing to do but mop, but a young human man named Jack seems to feel sorry for you, and asked you if the bruise on your head hurt: it seems the blow you received from the sailor below deck has left a small red knob. Like the other pirates, he seems to be a bit uneasy around you despite his concerns.
You've earned 100xp. Like Zamari and Elethir, the swabbers are either "indifferent" or "unfriendly" toward you.

Rubbing his head, "Could be worse. I'm Kavak. You be here long? This is exciting."

During the punishment, Kavak gets a good view of the side of the ship, watching the keelhauling. "Zogmugot claims another."



The majority of the crewmen have headed downstairs to sample the supper made by Kroop and his new assistant.

Kavak slips down the stairs with the crew, trying to keep twords the front of the line to make sure he gets food, cause he is hungry. He is always hungry.

[Phasm]

It takes a supreme effort of will not to retch over the side when the keelhauling victim is brought back on board. Zamari swallows hard, grateful she hadn't eaten yet that day. This certainly isn't the first time she's seen blood or grievous injuries, but Jakes' death was a whole order of magnitude higher than the wounds she's used to dealing with. Nodding stoically to the elf, she makes her way to the kitchen and hopes the Qadiran managed to help cook something edible.

[nazgulnine]

Qadiran
Kroop nods and takes a heavy sigh as he looks at the food. "I'm pourin' this out for the supper tonight. Why don'cha go on deck, Art? Bloody hour's sure ta' start soon. Come on back down when it's over." As you leave, you notice a particularly tough-looking half-orc woman enter and pass Kroop by, laying a large bottle in the cook's hands as she leaves.
Kavak
The young man kept at his mop, working diligently as he listened to the goblin. "You talk fast. That's good. I've been here a few months. Name's Jack. Everyone calls me Scrimshaw. I like scrimshaw." He quickly points to the whalebone amulet hanging from his neck, etched with the image of a beautiful woman; it is knowable as the goddess Besmara upon first glance. "Don't get yourself too down. It takes sundown before the real fun starts."

He seems to have taken a bit of a calmer attitude with you and looks more amiable.
All
Down in the galley, the ship's portly, seemingly-drunken cook, "Fishguts" Kroop, has begun handing out a mug of rum and a bowl of soup each. Upon closer inspection you note the meal it is turtle soup. It seems to be much heartier and full of meat than you had expected and than the crew had made it out to be. While still meager by all accounts, it has a pleasant aroma and taste, especially so, considering it's a cold brew and a warm bowl after a hard day's work.

Eating the soup fills you up with warmth to the bones. While you eat (or pick, or simply look around for something more palatable to your liking), many of the other sailors have already picked up their rum rations and set to drinking games, arm-wrestling, and chanting what seems to be "hog lob" as they head up to the deck.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

The Qadiran

After watching the Bloody Hour and enjoying her soup and rum, the Qadiran notices that the half-orc woman who gave Kroop the bottle also was the accuser at the Bloody Hour, the quartermaster. She looked like an important person on the ship, probably someone that'd be good to have as a friend.

As the crew separates for their games and entertainment, The Qadiran seeks her out.

"Keelhauling is far from pleasant, but that thief deserved it. When you're out on the ocean, stealing only proves you can't be trusted by the rest of the crew."

I assume Cutthroat Grok and the woman who slipped Kroop his drink are one and the same? If not I'll edit the post accordingly.

[Iron Victory]

Hastur drains his bowl greedily. He would eat almost anything, but good food was surprising on a pirate ship. Since drinking got him in this mess, the rum stays untouched. Maybe it could be used to barter. Before meeting up with Sandara, the large man walks over to the plump half-elven women. "Hello, my name is Victarion, I don't believe we've met. You uhhh... you make a fine soup."

[nazgulnine]

Qadiran
Grok is indeed the woman who gave him some rum.
You find Grok with Kroop, enjoying a few bottles of rum. The two are chatting avidly and seem to be enjoying themselves as they watch an armwrestling match between Narwhal, the long-nosed dwarf, and a bandana'd human everyone keeps calling 'Cogs.'

Hearing your statement, Grok looks up in surprise.
"An' who the hell'd'ya think you're?" she asks.
"Ay, this here's ma' new cookmate Art," Kroop pipes in.
"Well, can't say much 'bout yer cookin', but ye've a good head on yer shoulders. Jus' 'member, an' tell yer friends. No one doublecrosses ol' Cutthroat." Grok runs a thumb across her neck, her face as cold as stone. Kroop laughs and slaps his knee, Black-hearted Bezebel flittering off of his shoulder and onto the table.
"Don' lissin to 'er, Art. She likes ya', this ol' seahag does!"
As Kroop's assistant, you receive a +2 bonus to influence Grok.

After listening to Kroop and Grok, you see the large point-toothed man who won the race to the top of the mast.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Qadiran
Grok is indeed the woman who gave him some rum.
You find Grok with Kroop, enjoying a few bottles of rum. The two are chatting avidly and seem to be enjoying themselves as they watch an armwrestling match between Narwhal, the long-nosed dwarf, and a bandana'd human everyone keeps calling 'Cogs.'

Hearing your statement, Grok looks up in surprise.
"An' who the hell'd'ya think you're?" she asks.
"Ay, this here's ma' new cookmate Art," Kroop pipes in.
"Well, can't say much 'bout yer cookin', but ye've a good head on yer shoulders. Jus' 'member, an' tell yer friends. No one doublecrosses ol' Cutthroat." Grok runs a thumb across her neck, her face as cold as stone. Kroop laughs and slaps his knee, Black-hearted Bezebel flittering off of his shoulder and onto the table.
"Don' lissin to 'er, Art. She likes ya', this ol' seahag does!"
As Kroop's assistant, you receive a +2 bonus to influence Grok.
"Heh, first time I ever actually cooked something, so I'm only bound to get better from here on out. Looks like you're the quartermaster for the ship, that fair to say? You remind me a lot of my last captain. She taught me everything I know about shipboard-life."

Diplomacy check: [roll0]

After listening to Kroop and Grok, you see the large point-toothed man who won the race to the top of the mast.

"Thanks for the compliment, Master Victarion. Call me a Qadiran, as that's where I'm from. Nice to get to know you. We press-ganged have to stick together."

She extends her hand.

[Iron Victory]

Visibly relieved, Hastur accepts the handshake. "My thoughts exactly. We're all in this mess together." He glances around before adding in more hushed tones "Look... I met someone who convinced the Quartermaster to give her stuff back. This may seem a little forward, but I'm meeting with her now... would you like to come along?" Although stoic of face, his eyes betray unease. Hastur wasn't used to dealing with people, but he would never get out of this hell alone. She looked trustworthy enough.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

Visibly relieved, Hastur accepts the handshake. "My thoughts exactly. We're all in this mess together." He glances around before adding in more hushed tones "Look... I met someone who convinced the Quartermaster to give her stuff back. This may seem a little forward, but I'm meeting with her now... would you like to come along?" Although stoic of face, his eyes betray unease. Hastur wasn't used to dealing with people, but he would never get out of this hell alone. She looked trustworthy enough.

"Sure! I was just talking to her. She's a friend of my boss."

[Phasm]

The turtle soup is surprisingly good. Zamari doesn't touch the rum, though. Not after what happened last time. It might be useful to bribe one of the pirates who wants more, though, so she takes the mug with her when she gets up. Zamari limps over to the Qadiran who ended up as cook's assistant to compliment her, just in time to overhear a bit of conversation between the woman and the large man who won the dubious honor of working the rigging. The oracle clears her throat.

"You have my thanks for your efforts with tonight's dinner. It was much better than I expected. I am Zamari, a ship's carpenter and healer." She smiles and inclines her head to both the half-elf and her burly companion. "I did not intend to eavesdrop, but I heard something about a quartermaster... if one of you knows of such a person, I should very much like to meet him or her."

[Archpaladin Zousha]

"Pleased to meet you. Call me the Qadiran, as that's what I am. Quartermaster's Cutthroat Grokk, the accuser at tonight's Bloody Hour. She may be more inclined to listen to you with me around, as she's a friend of Mr. Kroop, my boss."

[Iron Victory]

Annoyed at being spied upon, Hastur's voice has an edge to it. "Greetings Zamari, if you didn't already "overhear", I go by Victarion. We best be going, I'm supposed to meet with her now." He takes a few steps before pausing mid-stride, so that's where he recalled this girl from. "I remember you from the tavern, weren't you the one performing conjuring tricks? A spellcaster..." He gives Zamari a sharp-toothed grin.

[Ganis]

Kavak
The young man kept at his mop, working diligently as he listened to the goblin. "You talk fast. That's good. I've been here a few months. Name's Jack. Everyone calls me Scrimshaw. I like scrimshaw." He quickly points to the whalebone amulet hanging from his neck, etched with the image of a beautiful woman; it is knowable as the goddess Besmara upon first glance. "Don't get yourself too down. It takes sundown before the real fun starts."

He seems to have taken a bit of a calmer attitude with you and looks more amiable.
All
Down in the galley, the ship's portly, seemingly-drunken cook, "Fishguts" Kroop, has begun handing out a mug of rum and a bowl of soup each. Upon closer inspection you note the meal it is turtle soup. It seems to be much heartier and full of meat than you had expected and than the crew had made it out to be. While still meager by all accounts, it has a pleasant aroma and taste, especially so, considering it's a cold brew and a warm bowl after a hard day's work.

Eating the soup fills you up with warmth to the bones. While you eat (or pick, or simply look around for something more palatable to your liking), many of the other sailors have already picked up their rum rations and set to drinking games, arm-wrestling, and chanting what seems to be "hog lob" as they head up to the deck.

Kavak wolfs down the soup, eagerly accepting any thing the others aren't going to finish. "Scrimshaw, that's a good name. My people call me Kavak, I'm sure that there will be a more colorful name the others give me. "

Kavak will slip his rum ration into Jacks/Scrimshaw with out the others noticing.
Sleight of Hand roll
[roll0]

[Phasm]

"Yes, that was me." Zamari smiles a bit sheepishly, pitching her voice just barely loud enough for the two to hear her over the din of rowdy pirates. "I am an oracle, a healer with some few powers over water and ice. That will teach me not to drink in a dangerous port... just as a fighter is more likely to get in a brawl with rum in him, so a spellcaster is more likely to cast spells and not think of consequences."

She regards her fellow press gang mate, thinking. "You have my apologies for listening to your conversation, inadvertent though it was. But words mean little among strangers, especially in a place like this. Should you be injured, come to me and I will heal you. Should you speak of my healing ability to the captain, that ape-lover Plugg, or the man with the whip, though, either I will not heal you further or I will make sure that the treatment is as painful as I can make it. Nothing would please me more than for any of those three to fall victim to wounds or disease." Her voice is completely matter of fact as she turns to the Qadiran. "All of that goes for you as well. You have saved us from a supper of lard and gristle."

With that, she keeps limping along after Victarion.

[Iron Victory]

Hastur decided he liked this plucky Garundi girl. A rare, rumbling chuckle erupts from his throat. "No, I apologize. It's been a long day..." He gives the sea a long look before leaning close and adding with a hushed voice "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I share your... wishes for those three dogs. Thank you for the offer, if any of the crew gives you trouble just point them out for me." Stealing a glance at Zamari's twisted leg, the large man continues his lumbering gait.

[nazgulnine]

QadiranGrok ***** her head back and downs the rest of her drink, shattering the bottle on the table she leans against. She gives you a steely smirk and turns to look at Kroop before leaving to armwrestle the freshly-defeated Crimson Cogwell, hollering "Let a true woman show ya how'ts done, boy!"

Cutthroat Grok's disposition toward you has shifted up one category. You've made her "friendly."

KavakScrimshaw nods his head a bit in agreement. "You're like as right. But that's a real weird name, Kavak. That Goblin...ese?"

You stealthily slip Scrimshaw your rum without him or anyone else noticing.

Hastur and ZamariFinding Sandara isn't as easy as you'd thought. She's stolen away to one of the far corners of the deck, out of sight, watching the festivities with a glimmer in her eye.
"Oh, well hello there Mr. Muscle," she comments to Hastur, looking Zamari up and down. "And who's this? Friend of yours?"

[Iron Victory]

"You're a tough woman to find, Sandara." states Hastur. He gestures at the half-elf, "This is the Qadiran, I invited her along, and this one..." The large man gives Zamari a look to show he's not serious, "can't mind her own business."

[Phasm]

"My name is Zamari." She rolls her eyes at Hastur. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Sandara."

[Archpaladin Zousha]

The Qadiran playfully smacks Hastur on the shoulder.

"Hey! Zamari's one of us too. We press-ganged gotta stick together, 'member?" she says with a smile on her face.

[nazgulnine]

Sandara
Sandara's smile widens a bit.
"Pleasure's all mine, Zam." She turns to the Qadiran and gives a swift wink, taking a drag from her pipe, a long shaft of wood with a crown shaped like a dragon's maw. "And right you are, miss The Qadiran. That's why I've got a present for ya." With a flick of the wrist, Sandara produces a small package of linen resembling a bedroll and thrusts it under Hastur's arm as nonchalantly as she can. The package has some weight to it; enough that the whole can be concealed, but light enough to hide within the safety of one's armpit. "Hope its all right."

Contained within are:

4 daggers
formula book
thieves' tools
wizard's spellbook
1 flattened bag containing a sling and stones


Elethir
Taking to the nearest bunk you can find, you find yourself finding bedding on a hammock that smells strongly of salt and the faded, sour smell that comes from something too familiar: grindylows. Taking a glance around yourself, you finally rest your gaze upon the netting of the hammock. Stitched into the end where you've laid your head is a string of alternating blue and green twine Finubaer once placed there to keep your things separate from his.
Its your net! It also functions as a bed.
...I'm sure no one will mind you reclaiming it.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

"How very nice of you, Sandara. Though I have a slight question. From what Mr. Kroop has told me, there aren't a lot of great people on this ship. You've probably got an angle of some kind. Would you be willing to let us in on it? Because I feel I should start gathering some friends to help you with it."

Diplomacy check: [roll0]

[Iron Victory]

Hastur is surprised, both at Sandara's generosity, and the uncouthness of the Qadiran. He raises an eyebrow at the half-elf. "I cannot thank you enough, Sandara. I am in your debt." He smiles at his new friend, tucking one of the daggers into the small of his back. "If anything is required of me, you have but to ask."

Diplomacy Roll (OOC): 11

[Phasm]

Smiling, Zamari bows to the quartermaster as best she can without spilling the mug of rum in her hand. "I thank you as well, Sandara." She resolves to ask Hastur about the contents of the roll later. "I would also be most grateful for knowledge of this ship and crew, particularly those who should be avoided... and those who may prove to be allies with we who did not come aboard of our own will." The oracle lifts her mug. "If you would like a drink, you are welcome to mine. I have lost my taste for rum after last night."


More Diplomacy! [roll0]

[Ganis]

Kavak will try and slip away from the crew to explore the ship. Its nice to be able to see the insides for once with out having to be boarding it at the same time. Humans tend to be upset when goblins come on board. Or just Goblins in general.


Ok, going to go sneak about to see whats around and such.
Stealth Check:[roll0]
Perception Check:[roll1]

[nazgulnine]

OOC:Ok. Sorry I took so long to respond, everyone. Who's still looking at this?

Kavak: you're going to be pretty much unseen, but I've yet to find a way to get a map of the ship onboard.

Your current areas: A6+A10 (The Middle Deck and The Lower Deck)

Other areas to explore:
A1 (Main Deck: where you work; where the sailors are playing)
--A2+A3 (the Upper Decks: foredeck and aftdeck, steering wheel)
--A4 (Officers' Quarters: where Plugg, Scourge, and Longfarthing sleep. Stairwell is here.)
--A5 (Captain Harrigan's Quarters)
A6 (Middle Deck: your current location, Kavak, Qadiran, Hastur, Zamari)
--A7 (Kroop and Grog's cabin)
--A8 (Galley, where Kroop and the Qadiran cook)
--A9 (Ship Store: where Grog is)
A10 (Lower deck: where your beds are: where Elethir is)
A11 (The Bilges)

Hastur, Qadiran, and Zamari
Sandara seems quite flattered by your offerings. She takes another drag from her pipe and exhales, taking a drink every now and then.
"Having a man like you in my debt? I must truly be blessed by Besmara herself. I'll think on it, babe."
She takes Zamari's cup and returns it to her.
"Don't give this up so easily, suge. Could come in hand at later times, doesn't spoil, and it sure is useful for someone, even if it ain't gonna be you drinking it. Keep it safe. These rations are worth more than gold here, but gold's pretty well-sought in its own." She winks her eye quickly one time, directing her gaze at the Qadiran. "Besides, there's some people who value glittering coin and the drink above all else. You know who I mean. I'd best be off, though. Got some fixings on a game of hoglob topdeck. Catch you lovelies later!" Sandara disappears with a light bounce in her step as she bounds up the stair to the main deck.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

The Qadiran

"I think I'll put my assets to use a bit more. Coin and drink will win some friends, but sometimes it's better to have people wrapped around your finger."

Heading to where there's music playing, the Qadiran begins showing off with a pleasing Kelish dance that gets cut humiliatingly short when she slips on the deck and ends up landing in an open barrel, her large posterior getting stuck in it.

Perform (dance): [roll0]

[Iron Victory]

The large man watches Sandara walk away with a bit too much interest. As she disappears through the crowd, Hastur turns to the Qadiran, and with nothing better to do, pulls up a seat to observe her dancing. After a few minutes, he wanders off, trying to find Ratline or Barefoot Samms. He figures it might do some good to get to know his crew-mates.

[nazgulnine]

OOC:On DCs and Nighttime Actions:

There're different results for low scores. A result of 1-9 means that the next time you perform, you first need a Bluff or Intimidate check of 15 or higher for someone to pay attention to your next Performance.

The book states you can take a single nighttime action, but you can add more by attempting a DC10 Constitution check, +4 for each additional extra action attempted beyond the first. Failure on either of these means you awaken the next morning fatigued.

Qadiran
You've certainly brought a chuckle of entertainment to the crew. Many have turned from your spectacle and waved off the sight as 'Ratline' Rattsberger begins a hearty halfling-style jig to the tune of a foppishly-dressed gnome's ditty.

Hastur
You see Ratline busy with his jig, but there's no sign of Samms on the mid-deck. Perhaps she's gone to the main deck, for a game? Or the lower deck, to bed?

[Ganis]

Kavak will make his way to the foredeck for his late night exploring, more due to curiosity than ill intent, which is difficult to gauge on a pirate vessel. If he fines semi-useful junk, he will start a small collection.

As in, a few nails if handy, the odd discarded piece of rope, random stuff. If its worth anything, it stays where it is. (viva La Burlap!)