Privateers of the Sword Coast IC

[pife]

Date: Hammer 1, 1372
NPC Gallery:

This will hold pics and profiles of the Major NPC's you guys run into



Ships Stores:

These are the ships current supplies

Food (in Man-days) Current Ration - (None / 1/2 / Full / Double / Luxury)

Water (in Man-days) Current Ration - (None / 1/2 / Full )

Spirits (in Man-days) Current Ration/day - (None / Light / Average / Heavy )

Repair Units: I will charge repair units for repairs done on the ship at sea. Each unit costs 50gp, and includes various timber, canvas, ropes, tools, nails, adhesives, etc that would be required to make repairs. Lightly damaged components will cost 1 Unit, while heavy damage, holed sections and rigging will require 1d4 Units. If the ship has no Repair Units, it cannot make repairs without either making shore and scavenging for supplies, coming into port, or magic.







Weapon Stores:

This is the listing of weapons/ammunition that the ship currently carries


Ships Roster
The crew currently embarked. Each ship will begin with the PC's, plus 11 additional crewmen.

Taloqua the Quick
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/TaloquatheQuick_zpsf93b2a57.png (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/TaloquatheQuick_zpsf93b2a57.png.html)Taloqua the one-eyed gnome is a flamboyant and gallant little fellow. Resourceful and intelligent, Taloqua has a little bit o'the sneak in him. An opportunist in combat, prone to prowling the edges of combat, looking for a chance to strike by surprise.

Jasfer Tenfathom
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/03_zpsb7ddb2d8.png (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/03_zpsb7ddb2d8.png.html)
Jasfer is intense young man who lost a father and two brothers to Nelanther pirates. He believes in discipline and he attends to his duties diligently, but hopes each time that the chase will give way to hand to hand combat, which he loves.

Ellor Goldsunder
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/dwarf_portrait__particular_by_dottorfile-d3i70m5_zpsfa65b6cd.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/dwarf_portrait__particular_by_dottorfile-d3i70m5_zpsfa65b6cd.jpg.html)
Ellor is a five year veteran of the Tethyrian Navy. He had been at home convalescing after a wound taken aboard the Star Prowler, but it was sunk in action while he was away. He has, with the Count's permission, taken a position with you as a deckhand and/or Gunners Mate. He has a natural way with the siege engines, and likes nothing more than putting holes in a pirates sails.

Thad Parkins
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/Blackeyedpea_zps21f34f7f.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/Blackeyedpea_zps21f34f7f.jpg.html)
Thad's a bit of a whiner, but he still manages to do the work of two men while he does it. He is valuable all over a ship, having been pushed around from position to position over the years as his complaints finally annoyed a superior into transferring him. At least he was diligent in learning the skills.

Markin Bogbottom
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/425px-Halflings-Fridolin_the_witty_zps0feae8f8.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/425px-Halflings-Fridolin_the_witty_zps0feae8f8.jpg.html)
Markin Bogbottom is a wiry and lively Halfling, a life-long resident of Velen, who had until recently owned a small shipping company. His warehouse burned in a recent pirate raid, and decided that Tymora must be telling him it's time to be a sailor and hunt pirates!


Philodoxis Trent
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/20199144-portrait-illustration-of-an-old-pirate-with-an-eyepatch-leaning-against-a-wall-and-smoking-a-clay-pi_zpsff466267.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/20199144-portrait-illustration-of-an-old-pirate-with-an-eyepatch-leaning-against-a-wall-and-smoking-a-clay-pi_zpsff466267.jpg.html)
Master Trent is a good hand to have aboard. He was thrown out of the Tethyrian navy for beating a belligerent bully to death in a tavern. Unfortunately, that bully was a powerful merchant's cousin, who had the ear of the Count.

Rastin Ferr
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/me_as_pirate_zps9895af49.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/me_as_pirate_zps9895af49.jpg.html)
Rastin is a drunk. But, drunk or sober, he knows how to set and repair sails and rigging like nobody you've ever seen. If you can just keep him out of the spirits, he should be fine.

Aileen Larkspur
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/640x1139_11778_GrC3A1inne_NC3AD_MhC3A1ille_2d_char acter_girl_woman_portrait_pirate_treasure_picture_ image_digital_art_zps40ee8cf3.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/640x1139_11778_GrC3A1inne_NC3AD_MhC3A1ille_2d_char acter_girl_woman_portrait_pirate_treasure_picture_ image_digital_art_zps40ee8cf3.jpg.html)
Many men have underestimated Aileen in the past. (ignore the pistol, these are not the droids you're looking for). If you can believe it, she started out posing as a cabin "boy" when she was 8, and has been sailing ever since. She can walk the walk, as it were, and stay away from her when the bones are rolling, she's deadly with dice.

Fargin Toller
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/pirate_01_zps44eb0375.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/pirate_01_zps44eb0375.jpg.html)
Fargin is a salty dog who lost his right eye to an arrow from a hobgoblin pirate ship. Since then, he is fanatical about killing all greenskins, and was tossed out of the Waterdeep Navy for failing to give quarter.

Jim Stannage
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/Quicksilver_zps6f05cdc9.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/Quicksilver_zps6f05cdc9.jpg.html)
Jim is a friendly sort, always quick with a joke and a smile. Originally from Iriaebor, he'd never seen an ocean until last year. Until then he had been a river trader. He's searching for something, but he won't tell anyone what it is.

Vance Pinkin
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/IMGP5621-Modifica_zps845cb65b.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/IMGP5621-Modifica_zps845cb65b.jpg.html)
Vance is quiet, having lost his entire family to a fire the last time he was out to sea. Now, it's the only thing he has left.




Chartroom
The map of the Southwestern Coast of Faerun
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/SWCoast_zpsf6effc4b.png (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/SWCoast_zpsf6effc4b.png.html)


Ship's Log

This will be a listing of the courses, ports of call and major events. Basically, it will show the progress of the game as narrated by the DM.

Imports and Exports by Nation

Chult:
Imports: Food, Jewelry, Weapons.
Exports: Furs, Gems, Ivory, Perfume.
Mountainous jungle of savage beasts, hulking dinosaurs and disease ridden swamps. Reclusive human tribes, few settlments. Heavy pirate activity in the waters nearby.
Fort Baluarian- Outpost of a mercenary company out of Baldurs gate.
Mezro- The largest civilized area in Chult- A holy city to Chultan tribes, extremely strict laws.
Port Nyanzaru- The major trading center in Chult, the harbor is designed with defense in mind. Rumored to have a powerful sea creature defending it.


Tashalar:
Imports: Beef, Fruit, Silver, Slaves
Exports: Cheese, Dyed Fabric, Glass, Olive Oil, Olives, Seafood, Spices, Wine
More civilized than Chult and friendlier than Calimshan. Makers of excellent crossbows and fast ships. Extremely valuable grapes. Home to the Rundeen Consortium, a trade organization involved in piracy and slaving. This is a strong mercantile kingdom that protects it's borders with strong ships.
Tashluta: The capital of Tashalar, and the only place in the country that attempts to learn languages other than the native. There is a ban on snakes of ANY sort, and the Tashlutans kill all that are discovered. .


Moonshae Isles:

Imports: Coal, Horses, Minor Magic Items, Ore, Parchment, Silk
Exports: Armor, Timber, Weapons

A cold cluster of rocky islands, the northern sections are dominated by the seafaring Northlanders (think Vikings). A darker skinned race known as the Ffolk control the southern portion.

Alaron: The most powerful kingdom in the Moonshaes, ruled from the port city of Caer Callidyr, which is comfortable with the presence of visitors and merchants from abroad.

Gwynneth: The largest of the southern islands. Nelanther pirates have made some landings on the islands southern coasts recently, but no large scale raids have been reported.

Moray: The westernmost of the major islands, it's also the wildest. Northlanders frequently raid the monsters of the Orcskull mountains.

Rhuathym: This rugged barren island is more than two hundred miles north of the rest of the Moonshaes, and is the ancestral home of the Northlanders. Largest settlement is the port city of Rhuathym. The Northlanders here have a long standing feud with the folk of Luskan far to the north on the Sword Coast.


Nelanther Isles:
Imports: Anything the natives can steal, loot or salvage
Exports: Slaves, Stolen and salvaged goods of all types

Nearly a thousand islands make up this chain. More than half lack water. Those that are habitable are fought over by seagoing pirates who prey on the shipping of Amn, Calimshan, the Sword Coast and the Moonshaes. The Pirate isles are predominantly inhabited by humans, though the pirates are just as often nonhumans such as orcs, lizardfolk, ogres and minotaurs.

Numerous small settlements exist on the islands that can support them. Effectively, the government here is.. well, it's an armed anarchy. This is the Tortuga of Faerun.


Lake of Steam:

Imports: Grain, Horses, Livestock, Small Ships, Soldiers, Stone, Wood (varies by region)
Exports: Cast Brass and Bronze, Chains, Dyed Wool, Dyes, Fruit, Gems, Ink, Magic Items, mercenaries, Mirrors, Pearls, Seafood, Sheepskins, Spellbooks, Sturdy Books, Vegetables, Wagons, Weapons, Wine (also varies by region).

A large number of independent city states on the north shore and a succession of small countries on the south. Most of the cities on the northern shore were part of Calimshan in the past. The Border Kingdoms on the south are the homes of powerful adventurers of many types, each seeking to care out a piece of land and rule it.

Tulmon:
Yeshpek:
Mintar: Taken over by an army serving Bane. Now, it's effectively a giant army camp.
Saelmur: Once the cleanest city on the lake, Saelmur is now overcrowded with refugees from Mintar.
Ankhapur: Open for trade, the new king has decreased merchant taxes.
Theymarsh:
Yhep: Yhep is famous for the vivid red pearls found in it's oyster beds. Yhepan shipwrights build wondrous ships with levitation magic and ski-like runners that skim across water, mud and sandy flats.
Innarlith: Anything can be bought for the right price, including illegal goods such as poison and narcotics. Cities ruler is a follower of Cyric, and the city includes a Thayan enclave.


Amn:
Imports: Exotic goods from Maztica, Magic Items, Mercenaries, Pearls, Siege Weaponry
Exports: Ale, Armor, Beer, Caravan items (wagons/wheels), Gems, Gold, Grain, Horses, Iron, Jewelry, Weapons

This is a nation of merchants, and the people are obsessed with wealth. The Shadow Thieves have their hand in everything. Arcane spellcasters are universally reviled and feared. They maintain a large colony on the distant continent of Maztica. The Small Teeth Mountain Range and areas south (including the port city of Murann) have fallen under the control of the Sythillisian Empire, a monstrous kingdom ruled by two vicious ogre-magi.

Athkatla: The seventh busiest port in all of Faerun. Any sort of nonmagical good can be found here for a price. This is Amn's only remaining free port, and ships from the western land of Maztica dock here frequently, bringing back exotic vegetables, fruits, jewelry and large amounts of gold. The city's marketplace it twice the size of Waterdeep's.

Murann: The secondary port town of Amn, Murann is now fully in the hands of two ogre mages and their minions. The humanoid armies seized several gold-laden ships and are now quite wealthy. The Nelanther pirates and the Tashalar based Rundeen use the place as a safe haven in exchange for defending it against naval attacks.


Calimshan:

Imports: Food, Slaves, Wizards
Exports: Armor, Books, Gems, Jewelry, Leather Goods, Mercenaries, Minor Magic Items, Pearls, Pottery, Rare Herbs, Rope, Ships, Silk, Spices, Weapons, Wine.

Calimshan is a land obsessed with wealth, and unimpressed by magic. It is renowned for it's chauvinism, exotic markets, thieves guilds, decadent harems and wealthy ruling class, as well as it's enormous population and many slaves. Most Cali****es rely upon mercantilism for their livelihood. The politics are very cutthroat, with backstabbing, and layers of deception common. The business underworld comprises an important aspect of Cali****e culture, and the underworld is the only place in Calimshan where women are treated as equals to men.

Almraiven: This port city is home to the country's largest shipbuilding facility. It is also the premier center for magical study within Calimshan.

Calimport: One of the oldest continuously populated areas of Faerun, it contains two great arenas, huge palaces and many auction houses for slaves.

Memnon- A garrison city, fishing port, trades stop, and the secondary port for the country's navy.

Suldolphor- Nearly independent of Calimshan's rule, they grudgingly pay taxes so as to be left alone.



Tethyr:

Imports: Magic Items, Mercenaries, Spices, Weapons
Exports: Ambergris, Carpets, Cheese, Cloth, Fish, Fruit, Livestock, Nuts, Pearls, Pipeweed, Rugs, Silk, Tea, Vegetables, Wine, Whale Oil

Tethyr recently emerged from a decades long civil war. It is now growing, establishing ties with hesitant neighbors. It's political situation still involves much intrigue. The pirates living in the Nelanther Isles to the west plague the kingdom's maritime commerce, including trade with far-off Maztica. Travelers are warned that the number five is considered very unlucky here.

Myratma: This walled city is more like Calimshan than any other city in Tethyr. It is the port through which the country's agricultural products flow. It has very few arcane casters, but the place is remarkable for the Jaguar Guard, a group of noble warriors brought over from the exotic land of Maztica to the west.

Velen: Many ghosts haunt this fortified city, but the people are so happy that people believe the hauntings to be exaggerated. Importand as a naval outpost against the Nelanther Pirates, Velen is also a valuable fishing port. Seafaring adventurers are quite welcome here.

Zazesspur: An amalgam of Tehyrian, Cali****e and other cultural influences, , this city also has few arcane casters. Those fleeing Amn usually travel farther, and the city's proximity to Calimshan means that many are lured further south.


Waterdeep:

Imports: Grain, Livestock, Leather, Ore, Timber and Exotic Goods from all lands
Exports: Ale, Arms, Cloth, Furnishings, Leather Goods, Pottery, Refined metals, and all other sorts of finished goods.

This is the major cosmopolitan power of Faerun. It benefits from an excellent harbor, wise rule, a tolerant spirit and a powerful magical tradition. Waterdeep contains at least one of nearly everything. The city's nickname, "The City of Splendors" is never said sarcastically. People know that Waterdeep is a marvel and that life is better here. It's undeniably a place where things happen, an important center of trade and change.

Skullport: The dark twin to Waterdeeps light soul, Skullport is a subterranean city connected to both Undermountain and a great sea in the Underdark. It is tolerated, barely, by the Lords of Waterdeep, because the madness and chaos it houses might otherwise rise to the surface and destroy the City of Splendors.


Baldur's Gate:

Situated halfway between Amn and Waterdeep, Baldur's Gate is a city where tolerance is a virtue. Trade knows no alignment.






The Ship
Details of the ship. Size, speed, all that jazz. Also will show all of the magical or mundane defenses
http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/Caravel_zps46010430.png (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/Caravel_zps46010430.png.html)

1. Quarterdeck- A raised open deck, holds the ships wheel and a davit for the ships boat which hangs off the stern. The Mizzenmast is directly in front of the Wheel.

2. Foc'sle deck- A raised open deck, where the foremast rises. A ballista is mounted here, but it cannot fire directly forward, due to the foremast.

3. Captain's Cabin- The largest and most comfortable living area on board, (but still quite cramped).

4. Wardroom- Officers mess and parlor

5. Main Deck- A catapult is mounted here, but it can only fire to the flanks due to the masts ahead and behind.

6. Foc'sle- The forecastle is where most of the crew sleeps. A dozen cramped bunks with small footlockers are kept here. (can be switched out at a later time for hammocks for added capacity.

7. Galley- This is where the ships meals are cooked, food is stored, and typically where the ship's cook and assistants would sleep.

8. Chain Locker- This is where the chain for the ship's anchor is kept. It runs through a hawsepipe through the ceiling of both the lower deck and the main deck, exiting on the Fo'c'sle.

9. Lower Deck- This is where much of the Cargo is stored, and where the deckhands normally take their mess, unless the hold is completely full. IF full, only a narrow passageway runs to and from the ladderwells.

10. Officer's Cabins- Each of these cramped rooms currently holds only one small rack and footlocker. Another could be added, but that would make most of the floorspace = bed. Perhaps bunks or hammocks here too, in the future?

11. Ship's office- This is where all of the charts, records, logs, and valuables (money) are kept.

12. Sail Locker- Where the sails are stored.

13. Lower Hold- Where the majority of the cargo is stored.



The Booty
Booty, cargo and treasure currently held (undistributed) by the ship's Captain, Quartermaster etc. Will also include trade goods


Ship's Charter

All copies (from the original approved Charter, along with any amendments added).


The PC's
{table=head]Player|Character|Color|Naval Combat Role|Close Combat Role|OoC Role
Breitheamh|Harren Roth (www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=790125)|DarkOliveGreen|???|B oarding Party|Prelate
iTookUrNick|Moldbeard (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=793869)|Green|Second Mate?|Ranged Support|Doctor?
JanusJones|Big Barrel (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=794485)|Blue|First Mate?|Boarding Party|Cook (http://api.ning.com/files/Q7mnt3YAl1hz*aCa0TCMFT5O1BcgfrMhYHVeN5HzKOj*lyRA*l 7leHD3VSzQHy5C66CqyyPcpR7kkyA37FP*Yx9mzBUhjNYf/tumblr_mkte0xaPqK1rojetco1_1280.jpg)
Starbin|Antos (www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=792579)|DarkOrange|Gunner?|B oarding Party|Navigator
Tempestfury|Nerethera (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=791750)|Purple|Spellslinger? |Boarding Party?|???
Vertharrad|Ammara (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=790895)|Red|Captain?|Boardin g Party|Captain?[/table]




[/SPOILER]


Dawn brings a frigid breeze that blows down from the north and slices through all but the thickest coats. Most of Velen still sleeps as the newest ship in the Tethyrian fleet begins to take on supplies. 500 man-days of food and water, and a full complement of ships weapons (including ammunition for both the ballista and catapult have been brought on board, and a squad of 8 Tethyrian soldiers guard the quay where the unnamed ship rocks forlornly.

Count Joaquin has arranged for 11 able bodied seamen to join you, the officers of his latest venture. They are breaking their morning fast in an empty warehouse near the dock. You, however, have been invited to dine with the Count himself in his manor a mile from the shore. His manor is built of the finest Mulhorandi marble, a deep red that shimmers in the pale sunlight. The inside is perhaps even more opulent than the outside, but you can see that it can be buttoned up tight and is built for defense. Servants in red and gold livery bustle about, keeping mugs full and replacing empty trays with fresh offerings. Guards are strangely absent.

I know, begins Joaquin from the head of the table, that most seamen don't take a large meal of a morning, and normally I would agree. Yet, my schedule today is quite pressing, and I feared that I would not be able to send you off if I waited. And I will not have it said that I set a poor table.

He sips a goblet of water and only nibbles at cheese and fruit while fussing with his silken robes. Your crew, such as I was able to acquire for you, should be sufficient for the nonce. You may find the opportunity to add to it in your travels, and I leave these decisions to you. Far be it from me to tell sailors how best to do their jobs.

My agents inform me that a Tashalari caravel is en route from Tashluta with a shipment of spices for our markets. She is heavily laden, and should be found close to shore. Her name is the "Whispering Green", bound for Myratma. If you can, you are to find her and escort her into port. It is not an order, but.. it would please me. Her captain is one.. Joaquin refers to a small sheet of paper in front of him, squinting a bit.. Raskaro Bunisnick. I haven't had the pleasure of his acquaintance. Either way, there are raiders out there as thick as the fleas on a Calishar camel. Your mission is simple.. He pauses, and stares at each of you in turn. Protect the shipping interests of Tethyr, using all means reasonable. You are not to engage ships flying the colors of a sovereign nation, we need no incidents. He grimaces slightly as though remembering a bad smell.

The sounds of a flute waft gently into the dining chamber from elsewhere in the manor, and for a moment, Joaquin sways to the tune slightly, eyes nearly closed. When the tune ends, he looks up, serious again. Your reputations are.. colorful, to say the least. But people I trust tell me that you are greater than your appearance would suggest. Gazing around the room, he adds, I hope very much that this is true. Now, I have business to attend to. What questions do you have for me?

[JanusJones]

Barrel is conspicuously absent.

He's hard to miss, what with the giant barrel strapped to his back, and there's an empty seat at the table. The footman sent to invite him returned to report, reddened, that the crude orc had said something "near incomprehensible in a barbaric accent" to the effect that he had no manners, enough sense to know it, and would be where any seaman would be before a voyage.

Barrel is with the rest of the crew.

[Breitheamh]

Harren leans back at the table, legs up, ill-manneredly resting next to a plate of eggs. His eyes remain lazily half-open, and a coin perpetually flips between his hands. He gives the Count a smirk and a wink.

"No questions from me, sir," he says, but then lifts his gaze to the ceiling, and grips the coin. "Except, maybe....well, I just have to ask: what's your secret? This opulent manor of yours...it's beautiful, no doubt. There must be something you're doing very right. Is this all your design here?" He gestures to the elaborately decorated walls and ceiling.

[Vertharrad]

Ammara looks around her still amazed she was able to find a new "family" so soon. The memories of Jack and crew are still fresh in her mind. She looks around unconfortably at the finery and servants as she makes her way with the others to their parlay with the new boss. She doesn't feel right being employed by those she used to plunder. The obvious display of wealth reminds her of the humble beginnings she herself has come from.

Ammara takes a seat looking around at the other faces that are new to her, the crew she must trust inorder to survive and prosper. She sparingly partakes of the refreshments marvaling at the shear amount of food, yet another show of wealth and power...whether on purpose or not. She listens to Joaquin as he adresses her and the others.

When he finishes Ammara speaks up. How are we to get ahold of you incase of emergencies?

[Starbin]

Antos sat at the table, quiet for most of the breakfast, watching the others eat and chat amongst themselves. He wasn't much for finery and such, having grown up in the exact opposite circumstances. However, time in the army had taught him a thing or two about stations, and he knew enough to not simply stare and ogle the opulence. Instead, he regarded their employer, Count T'bor. A powerful wizard, they said, who had hired them under the auspice of protecting national interests. Funny that - a poor git from Port Llast serving the interests of Tethyr!

Antos thought about what they had been told and almost had to shake his head. Serving the Crown as 'protectors,' earning the ship in two years time ... bah, they'd most likely be at the bottom of the sea or in the belly of the Kraken before then - no need to sugar coat it! Antos knew better than to look on the bright side of life ... the light on the horizon was usually a fire-breathing dragon!

When the count asked for questions, he had many, but only one that he thought important enough to ask in front of his royal highness. "M'lord, ya hired us t'keep the peace on the seas, and Ah'm guessin' ya want t'protect anythin' wavin' a flag of Tethyr. What's so important 'bout this one ship? Cuz if'n there's t'be trouble, sure as ****e it'll find us, and we'll most likely all end up dead. But it be nice ta know if we're protectin' spices against bandits or Crown secrets 'gainst spies and such ..."

[iTookUrNick]

Silvius listens carefully to the words of the host and the questions posed by the other officers selected for this crew. Each, in its own way, might provide him with a flash of insight into their motivations, their priorities or their attitude towards life in general. He lets them speak, using this time to empty his plate of fresh fruits and vegetables (always so scarce at sea) and to swallow away his nervousness.

He arrived at this meeting right on time, after combing the seaweed out of his hairs, with a shirt on his back and sandals at his feet: he's never been so well dressed in his life, although it itches a little to be so constrained. All of the men and women gathered here have their reasons to enlist for this enterprise, but he'd wager none of them care for the success of this endeavor as much as he does. Not because of any great love for Tethyr: in fact, despite some interesting progress made by government official in regard to the interaction with Fey spirits in the nearby wood, he does not care about the nation at all. What he wants is opportunity, mandate and backing in dealing with the pirates that infest this part of the ocean and have become a small plague for the Nelanther Isles, his home.

This is the last chance for him to mess up, and he's determined to weather the occasion without incident. However, he cannot help but pose a couple of questions of his own. Hoping against hope that he'll manage not to sound awkward, he speaks last:

"Esteemed Count, I wish to thank you for the hospitality you are extending to us all. If I may press you on this point, I would like you to elaborate on the limitations you have set for us, and other rules of engagemets you might feel necessary, in your wisdom, to place upon us.
As a way of example, what would you have us do if a vessel bearing a national flag, be it true colors or a ruse of lawless men, were to make a move against the convoy you described? And assuming that we were indeed to intervene and capture some of the offending crew members as prisoners, would we be allowed to deal with them as we see fit, according to the laws of the sea and our moral judgment, or would you have us act in a different manner?"

[pife]

Barrel is conspicuously absent.

He's hard to miss, what with the giant barrel strapped to his back, and there's an empty seat at the table. The footman sent to invite him returned to report, reddened, that the crude orc had said something "near incomprehensible in a barbaric accent" to the effect that he had no manners, enough sense to know it, and would be where any seaman would be before a voyage.

Barrel is with the rest of the crew.

In an area cleared of crates and tarps, the new deckhands of Tethyr's latest privateer crew sit on mismatched chairs around a scarred and pitted table with a wobbly leg. Atop it are brass trays loaded with fresh-ish fruits and vegetables, several wheels of good, sharp cheese, and bowls of boiled eggs. To wash this down are a choice of ale, water or lightly spiced wine. Several servers, wearing crimson and gold tabards wait to clean up until after the crew finishes.

Longshoremen can be seen on the periphery, loading crates of food and barrels of water onto a wagon for transport to the still as-yet unnamed caravel. The mood around the table is subdued, but pleasant, the crew introducing themselves and sharing a few stories. Most of these men (and women) are old enough to know that all will not be peaches and clotted cream when under sail, but all seem in good enough spirits. All that is, save Vance, his salt and pepper beard drenched with the ale that slops over the sides of his tankard. Aileen is receiving more than her fair share of attention, especially from Taloqua and Jim Stannage, who appear to be trying to outdo the other with their jokes and stories.

A minor functionary of Velen (as shown by the badge of office he wears around his neck) steps up to the table, and harrumphs nervously. The crew quiets and looks at him with countenances ranging from friendly and open to distrustful and challenging. Yes, well, well met and good morrow to you. I am Fernin Caspra, adjunct to Count T'Bor. I am here to welcome you into the service of Tethyr, and I would also like to offer my services to you in arranging wills and other arrangements that may be necessary for the months ahead. If you have any questions, I will do my best to answer them at this time. Count T'Bor expects to have finished with your officers shortly, and you will be able to meet with them when you board the ship. Your gear, such as it is, he sniffs slightly, unconsciously it seems, is already aboard. Once you have finished your repast, I will see that you are transported to your new vessel. Wilting slightly under the glares from Fargin, Ellor and Vance, he opens his mouth as if to continue, then drops his gaze and steps back a pace. Conversations resume among the crew as if there were no interruption.


Harren leans back at the table, legs up, ill-manneredly resting next to a plate of eggs. His eyes remain lazily half-open, and a coin perpetually flips between his hands. He gives the Count a smirk and a wink.

"No questions from me, sir," he says, but then lifts his gaze to the ceiling, and grips the coin. "Except, maybe....well, I just have to ask: what's your secret? This opulent manor of yours...it's beautiful, no doubt. There must be something you're doing very right. Is this all your design here?" He gestures to the elaborately decorated walls and ceiling.

Count T'Bor gazes at you with a slight smirk. I thank you for your kind words, Master.. He pauses and his eyes flutter twice as though he is in thought.. Roth, isn't it? Believe me, it's no secret. Years of adventuring set the seed of my finances, decades of following my father's grand example of how to behave as a noble should, and an entire lifetime of learning the discretion not to put my feet upon a polished mahogany table that your host received as a personal gift from the Duchess Taygarden last spring. As soon as he finishes speaking, his eyes flick to the diminutive Ammara.


Ammara looks around her still amazed she was able to find a new "family" so soon. The memories of Jack and crew are still fresh in her mind. She looks around unconfortably at the finery and servants as she makes her way with the others to their parlay with the new boss. She doesn't feel right being employed by those she used to plunder. The obvious display of wealth reminds her of the humble beginnings she herself has come from.

Ammara takes a seat looking around at the other faces that are new to her, the crew she must trust inorder to survive and prosper. She sparingly partakes of the refreshments marvaling at the shear amount of food, yet another show of wealth and power...whether on purpose or not. She listens to Joaquin as he adresses her and the others.

When he finishes Ammara speaks up. How are we to get ahold of you incase of emergencies?

With a toothy smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, he chuckles and says, "That depends entirely on your reason for trying to reach me, Mistress Ammara".


Antos sat at the table, quiet for most of the breakfast, watching the others eat and chat amongst themselves. He wasn't much for finery and such, having grown up in the exact opposite circumstances. However, time in the army had taught him a thing or two about stations, and he knew enough to not simply stare and ogle the opulence. Instead, he regarded their employer, Count T'bor. A powerful wizard, they said, who had hired them under the auspice of protecting national interests. Funny that - a poor git from Port Llast serving the interests of Tethyr!

Antos thought about what they had been told and almost had to shake his head. Serving the Crown as 'protectors,' earning the ship in two years time ... bah, they'd most likely be at the bottom of the sea or in the belly of the Kraken before then - no need to sugar coat it! Antos knew better than to look on the bright side of life ... the light on the horizon was usually a fire-breathing dragon!

When the count asked for questions, he had many, but only one that he thought important enough to ask in front of his royal highness. "M'lord, ya hired us t'keep the peace on the seas, and Ah'm guessin' ya want t'protect anythin' wavin' a flag of Tethyr. What's so important 'bout this one ship? Cuz if'n there's t'be trouble, sure as ****e it'll find us, and we'll most likely all end up dead. But it be nice ta know if we're protectin' spices against bandits or Crown secrets 'gainst spies and such ..."

Count T'bor's eyes betray a slight widening before he composes himself again, and his tone is as smooth as ever. My good man, I assure you that I am keeping no secrets from you. The Whispering Green carries spices from Tashalar.. Valuable spices, he adds in a serious tone. It is the only ship currently en route to Velen that my personal factors contracted, so it is, for the moment, the most valuable ship to me. As it is my coin that is purchasing the supplies for your vessel, and as it is my naval outpost to which that vessel belongs, I merely asked you to attempt, if it coincides with your captain's itinerary, to ensure that this particular ship reaches Velen unmolested. There are no ulterior motives here. I am a businessman. I have put a great deal of my personal capital at risk for this venture, and I seek for it to be proven a worthwhile investment. He finishes with another smirk, and flicks his eyes away, and doesn't look at Antos again.


Silvius listens carefully to the words of the host and the questions posed by the other officers selected for this crew. Each, in its own way, might provide him with a flash of insight into their motivations, their priorities or their attitude towards life in general. He lets them speak, using this time to empty his plate of fresh fruits and vegetables (always so scarce at sea) and to swallow away his nervousness.

He arrived at this meeting right on time, after combing the seaweed out of his hairs, with a shirt on his back and sandals at his feet: he's never been so well dressed in his life, although it itches a little to be so constrained. All of the men and women gathered here have their reasons to enlist for this enterprise, but he'd wager none of them care for the success of this endeavor as much as he does. Not because of any great love for Tethyr: in fact, despite some interesting progress made by government official in regard to the interaction with Fey spirits in the nearby wood, he does not care about the nation at all. What he wants is opportunity, mandate and backing in dealing with the pirates that infest this part of the ocean and have become a small plague for the Nelanther Isles, his home.

This is the last chance for him to mess up, and he's determined to weather the occasion without incident. However, he cannot help but pose a couple of questions of his own. Hoping against hope that he'll manage not to sound awkward, he speaks last:

"Esteemed Count, I wish to thank you for the hospitality you are extending to us all. If I may press you on this point, I would like you to elaborate on the limitations you have set for us, and other rules of engagemets you might feel necessary, in your wisdom, to place upon us.
As a way of example, what would you have us do if a vessel bearing a national flag, be it true colors or a ruse of lawless men, were to make a move against the convoy you described? And assuming that we were indeed to intervene and capture some of the offending crew members as prisoners, would we be allowed to deal with them as we see fit, according to the laws of the sea and our moral judgment, or would you have us act in a different manner?"

My instructions are simple, Captain, the Count begins, taking a sip from his goblet. Patrol the waters surrounding Velen, engage all known pirate vessels, defend all Tethyrian shipping interests, and don't start a war with any sovereign nations. Other than making a significant amount of coin for Tethyr, for yourselves, and yes, for myself as well, those are my only current requests. As to your second question, he continues smoothly, if you encounter a ship of ANY nationality molesting a ship known to be of Tethyrian origin, or known to be carrying freight bound for Tethyr, you are under the Crown's authority to engage them and protect national interests. I will have one of my scribes provide you with a roster of all Tethyrian vessels, and will do my level best to ensure that you also know the names and cargo of inbound or outbound foreign vessels whose interests are aligned with our own. The count looks up to regard a woman in nearly translucent robes approaching, a smile curling the corners of his mouth as he does.

They are here, then, Elise? See them to the Green room and arrange for refreshments, I will be there directly. Turning once more to regard Silvius, he finishes.. And, what you do with captured criminals is entirely up to your own conscience, Captain. While you are acting in Tethyr's interests, , he continues, stressing the word, you are not precisely an agent OF Tethyr, and as such are under no obligation to limit yourself to the laws of this land while you are at sea.

Standing, he regards all but Antos in as near to a friendly manner as you have yet seen from him. Handling the fringe of his robes with care, ensuring that they do not touch the polished black marble floors, he bows his head slightly to Silvius. If there is nothing more?

[JanusJones]

In an area cleared of crates and tarps, the new deckhands of Tethyr's latest privateer crew sit on mismatched chairs around a scarred and pitted table with a wobbly leg. Atop it are brass trays loaded with fresh-ish fruits and vegetables, several wheels of good, sharp cheese, and bowls of boiled eggs. To wash this down are a choice of ale, water or lightly spiced wine. Several servers, wearing crimson and gold tabards wait to clean up until after the crew finishes.

Longshoremen can be seen on the periphery, loading crates of food and barrels of water onto a wagon for transport to the still as-yet unnamed caravel. The mood around the table is subdued, but pleasant, the crew introducing themselves and sharing a few stories. Most of these men (and women) are old enough to know that all will not be peaches and clotted cream when under sail, but all seem in good enough spirits. All that is, save Vance, his salt and pepper beard drenched with the ale that slops over the sides of his tankard. Aileen is receiving more than her fair share of attention, especially from Taloqua and Jim Stannage, who appear to be trying to outdo the other with their jokes and stories.

A minor functionary of Velen (as shown by the badge of office he wears around his neck) steps up to the table, and harrumphs nervously. The crew quiets and looks at him with countenances ranging from friendly and open to distrustful and challenging. Yes, well, well met and good morrow to you. I am Fernin Caspra, adjunct to Count T'Bor. I am here to welcome you into the service of Tethyr, and I would also like to offer my services to you in arranging wills and other arrangements that may be necessary for the months ahead. If you have any questions, I will do my best to answer them at this time. Count T'Bor expects to have finished with your officers shortly, and you will be able to meet with them when you board the ship. Your gear, such as it is, he sniffs slightly, unconsciously it seems, "is already aboard. Once you have finished your repast, I will see that you are transported to your new vessel." Wilting slightly under the glares from Fargin, Ellor and Vance, he opens his mouth as if to continue, then drops his gaze and steps back a pace.

In the silence after Caspra ceases, there is a sudden series of booms - thumpthumpthumpa thump-THUMP! - that send the man into a tiny, frightened hop.

All eyes turn to the huge orc seated in the center.

He'd been friendly enough. He'd poured a draft from the enormous barrel he'd unstrapped from his back, serving any and all and matching each drink for drink, a broad grin on his scarred, homely face. Apart from drinking, he'd mostly sat astride his barrel and listened.

Now, he was using it as a massive drum, pounding it with two thick hands the size of shovels.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The bellow rings out in the startled silence. Caspra stares, the whites of his eyes showing, clearly confused as to whether this lunatic poses a threat.

"I left my home and my pretty lil' wife
For the rollin' sea and a sailor's life,
An' you ask me where to send my bones?
Just send me down to Davey Jones!"

The chorus rings out, familiar to any seafaring man, in a rough, crude baritone with the heavy accent of the Southern coasts:

"O a sailor's life for me!
With the wind in my hair and my legs on the sea!
Well I'm poor and mad and drunk and free!
A SAILOR'S LIFE FOR ME!"

The enormous seaman keeps a rolling rhythm beating on his barrel with his massive hands, filling in the gaps between verses with thump-a-thump THUMPS. Without pausing, he launches into the next verse, singling lustily out of a chest bigger around than his perch.

[iTookUrNick]

Standing, he regards all but Antos in as near to a friendly manner as you have yet seen from him. Handling the fringe of his robes with care, ensuring that they do not touch the polished black marble floors, he bows his head slightly to Silvius. If there is nothing more?
As the Count rises from his seat, so does Silvius, relieved for this to be over. After a quick glance to the other members of the table, he returns the bow: "No, that is all. We do not wish to hold you from your other duties. We'll make our way to the ship posthaste".
The meeting concluded, the group files out and heads for the port.

[Starbin]

The count's answers made perfect sense, and got to the core of what Antos' wanted to know - this was no simple "Help the good ship Whispering Green, since they are loyal servants of the Crown!" It was a matter of money in the Count's pockets. Of course, the man seemed to take offense, which didn't really bother the ranger ... but did make for an interesting assessment of the man's character.

When the count left and everyone stood, he stood too, watching T'bor with guarded eyes. "See, Antos' ol' boy ... where there's smoke, there's dragons ..." Murmuring to himself, he followed the Captain's lead, ready to be back on the ship. At least there, he knew most of the predators ...

[Breitheamh]

Harren chuckles at Joaquin's somewhat passive aggressive response, as he casually allows his feet to fall back to the floor. "Indeed," he comments with a smug smirk.

As the crew leaves, he looks back at Joaquin one last time, flipping his coin across the long table to him, and giving him one last wink. "Just don't forget who really gave you this fortune......sir."

[Tempestfury]

Nerethera had stayed quiet throughout the meeting, acting rather politely, to what her manners dictated. She probably wasn’t like a high-class noble, but she didn’t do anything like but her feet up on the table, or didn’t even turn up.

Not that anyone had actually did those actions. No, not at all. Nerethera would never slight her crewmates in her thoughts. Why would she when she could simply do so by actually speaking about it? Passive-aggressive? Don’t make her laugh, she wasn’t passive-agressive at all!

Despite her behaviour however, the warmage did have a scowl on her face, showing her displeasure at this meeting. Keeping polite was one thing, but not being honest in how she wasn’t enjoying this meeting was enough... though she didn’t actually say anything about it.

She listened with disinterest while the others asked their questions and got their answer. Valid questions, with equally valid answers. A bit suspicious of their host, but some suspicion never hurt anyone. As long as it didn’t grow into full-blown suspicion or paranoia. Then it could cause problems...

When the meeting was done, Nerethera got to her feet in relief, glad to finally be going. She was starting to itch to destroy something again, and it wasn’t always a bad idea to stay inside when she was getting her itch. She was about to leave, when a thought came to her, and she turned to Count, saying bluntly. “Where in this port can I buy an iron crate?”

[Vertharrad]

Ammara had heard the word mistress used a few times before, and not in a complimentary fassion. Not knowing how he intended the remark she didn't respond. She got up with the other officers when the time came to leave and headed down to the port with them.

[pife]

In the silence after Caspra ceases, there is a sudden series of booms - thumpthumpthumpa thump-THUMP! - that send the man into a tiny, frightened hop.

All eyes turn to the huge orc seated in the center.

He'd been friendly enough. He'd poured a draft from the enormous barrel he'd unstrapped from his back, serving any and all and matching each drink for drink, a broad grin on his scarred, homely face. Apart from drinking, he'd mostly sat astride his barrel and listened.

Now, he was using it as a massive drum, pounding it with two thick hands the size of shovels.


"O a sailor's life for me!
With the wind in my hair and my legs on the sea!
Well I'm poor and mad and drunk and free!
A SAILOR'S LIFE FOR ME!"

As Caspra recoils, and the servants jump in surprise, several members of the crew take up the third verse, thumping their tankards on the table to match the beat.. Jasfer, Thad, Markin Bogbottom, Philodoxis Trent, Rastin and Jim Stannage add their voices, (some of which are better than others), and Aileen leaps gracefully on the table and dances a jig amongst the trays and cups.

FAREWELL and anon to you fair Amnish ladies,
FAREWELL and anon to you ladies of Amn,
for we've received orders to sail for old Tethyr,
An' hope very shortly to see you again!!

Caspra recovers most of his dignity by the end, assuming a disapproving look of mild annoyance, though several of the servants smile behind their hands and one laughs openly, only to catch a glare from Caspra.

After the singing and laughing and toasting dies down, Caspra arranges for the wagons to take you to the dock. Several of the crewmen stuff cheeses into their pockets and purses, and Aileen daintily picks several of the choicest pieces of fruit and nibbles on them as you make your bumpy way through the streets of Velen in the back of a pair of open wagons behind your supply wagons. The air is quite chill and the wet breeze promises rain later, the light of dawn muted by the heavy and low-hanging clouds of dark grey.

There is happy chatter amongst most of the deckhands, a little bit of bragging and curiosity as to where the first port of call might be. One would almost think that they weren't going to be hunting nefarious and crafty sea-bandits whose idea of fun is keelhauling prisoners side by side to see which one can survive the longest.

You arrive at the quay, and immediately longshoremen jump off of the supply wagons to begin loading equipment and provender. A squad of Tethyrian armsmen stands at the foot of the gangplank, shivering in the now heavy mist despite their heavy cloaks.

Two carriages pull down the muddy street and stop across the street in front of the dockmaster's office. From it step the officers of your ship.


http://i1294.photobucket.com/albums/b604/Pife/Warrior_figure_de_proue_zpse20293f7.jpg (http://s1294.photobucket.com/user/Pife/media/Warrior_figure_de_proue_zpse20293f7.jpg.html)



As the Count rises from his seat, so does Silvius, relieved for this to be over. After a quick glance to the other members of the table, he returns the bow: "No, that is all. We do not wish to hold you from your other duties. We'll make our way to the ship posthaste".
The meeting concluded, the group files out and heads for the port.

Count T'bor bows slightly at the waist with a thin smile on his face, and graciously adds, May the seas be calm, the wind following, and may Waukeen guide and protect you. Fare well, Captain. I look forward to hearing the tales your exploits will bring.


Harren chuckles at Joaquin's somewhat passive aggressive response, as he casually allows his feet to fall back to the floor. "Indeed," he comments with a smug smirk.

As the crew leaves, he looks back at Joaquin one last time, flipping his coin across the long table to him, and giving him one last wink. "Just don't forget who really gave you this fortune......sir."

With hands quicker than you would have imagined, Count T'Bor catches the coin between thumb and forefinger. He looks at it, rolls his hand over, and it disappears. But of course, Luckbringer, he grants solemnly. The Waukeenar often give praise to she who guides coin to our purses. No matter where it comes from.


“Where in this port can I buy an iron crate?”

The Count regards the last of his newly made officers and considers her question for a moment, toying with a large golden ring on his left hand with the fingers of his right. I had not given consideration to having a brig built upon the ship. It is a good idea, well done. Tell the Dockmaster when you reach the quay that I requested a three-man-isolation brig loaded into the hold and bolted down. He looks appraisingly at Nemethera and nods in satisfaction. Yes, well thought out. There will be opportunities for presenting important captives to the public for execution or imprisonment. I like the way you think.. Lieutenant. With the first smile that actually reaches his eyes, he turns away from you, joining 'Elise', she of the translucent robes, and walking silently on velvet slippers deeper into the manor.

__________________________________________________ __________

After the last questions, liveried servants guide you to two large carriages lacquered black with the arms of Tethyr mounted prominently on the side. Matched teams of eight white stallions stand placidly before each carriage. Each carriage could luxuriously carry 6 passengers, and steaming pitchers of mulled wine and trays of sweetmeats can be found in the "island" at the center of each carriage.

Footmen stand ready to assist any into the carriages, and, once loaded, they set off toward the quay. Though the roads are wet and rough, the ride is smoother than one would expect, even for carriages such as these. Braziers of aromatic incense carrying the light scents of pine and gardenia hang unobtrusively from the center of the roof, above the island table.

The trip is less than 15 minutes, and upon stopping, the doors are thrown open at once, and footmen once again stand ready to hand down any who require their aid.

The ship is bobbing easily before you. The dockmaster's office, composed of gray granite blocks with stained glass windows sits behind. Laborers scurry up and down the gangplank loading supplies, and several others manipulate block and tackle to load larger crates into the lower hold.

The deckhands are milling about on shore near the gangplank and talking quietly when the carriages arrive.

[JanusJones]

After the singing and laughing and toasting dies down, Caspra arranges for the wagons to take you to the dock. Several of the crewmen stuff cheeses into their pockets and purses, and Aileen daintily picks several of the choicest pieces of fruit and nibbles on them as you make your bumpy way through the streets of Velen in the back of a pair of open wagons behind your supply wagons. The air is quite chill and the wet breeze promises rain later, the light of dawn muted by the heavy and low-hanging clouds of dark grey.

There is happy chatter amongst most of the deckhands, a little bit of bragging and curiosity as to where the first port of call might be. One would almost think that they weren't going to be hunting nefarious and crafty sea-bandits whose idea of fun is keelhauling prisoners side by side to see which one can survive the longest.

You arrive at the quay, and immediately longshoremen jump off of the supply wagons to begin loading equipment and provender. A squad of Tethyrian armsmen stands at the foot of the gangplank, shivering in the now heavy mist despite their heavy cloaks.

At the dock, Barrel joins the longshoremen, shouldering massive crates on each shoulder and leaping aboard. Though he's clearly inebriated, swaying under the load, he's nonetheless worth any two of the others in sheer strength, and no matter how he staggers, he never misses a step and stores the cargo double-quick.

With an impossible load on his back, he hollers out to Jim Stannage and Taloqua. "So much to shoulder, 'dis load, an' a pretty lady to impress, an' I an' I 'de only sailor 'ere wit' a weight on 'is back?" All this with a wink and a grin, and he's aboard ship again, almost dropping the massive weight twice and tripping around several smaller longshoreman on his way up the gangplank.

A keen eye might also note he's paying close attention to stock.

A drunken Strength of 24 means he's carrying 700 lbs. He's checking inventory and stock of foodstuffs and making sure he knows where everything's stored.

[Vertharrad]

Ammara enters one of the carraiges without needing to be assisted. She takes quiet contemplation on the "naked" display of wealth and power again, she thinks it wasteful and doesn't like the feeling she gets being around such overly lavish displays. She'd rather be on the water with the wind in her hair and the free feeeling of the deck underneath her boots. Whenever they get to the docks she departs with the Captain and the rest of the officers. The hard work going on reminds her of time she was a deckhand.

[iTookUrNick]

Privateers

Capt. Molbeard appreciates the carriage for what it is: a quick and confortable mean to reach their destination. He keeps silent and does not take advantage of the refreshments on board, having already taken advantage of the count's hospitality at the manor. When the carriage stops, he steps out, unaided but hardly gracefully, with his left leg, frozen in a perpetual wooden stiffness, and the staff he leans on hitting the cobblestones with a twin thud. He walks at his usual pace ...thud...thud....thud... towards the moored ship, taking in the entire scene as it unfolds.

He notice, approvingly, that Mr. Barrel has spent some time with the crew already, and by the looks on their faces they've had a jolly good time of it. Cook, laborer, entertainer. Truly a man of the people, this Barrel, a quality that might end up being quite useful down the line.

The ship is still being loaded with some heavy-looking crates. He wistles twice, and two enormous gorillas come down from the crows's nest, swinging effortlessly down the creaking rigging. With an action that is half gesture and half command, he puts them at work beside the other workers. The sooner they are at sea, the better he'll feel.

Then there's the issue of the cage they'll have to install. Funny thing that, with the count not getting his allusion but hearing the very same where there was none. Ah well, it all works out in the end. He turns to the warmage: "Go speak to the Dockmaster about that iron crate we spoke of earlier. See if he can find something suitable and ready to be brought on board, otherwise we'll have to do without for this particular trip. Bring the count's man in case he needs to sign off anything"

To the rest of the officer group: "Time to settle in our new home. See that she's stocked with everthing you need to perform your duties, then let's all gather up on deck for proper introductions".

[pife]

The loading goes smoothly, if not exactly quickly. With the massive half-orc lugging loads that leave the other longshoremen gaping, the work gets done well before midday.

The ship smells heavily of pitch and freshly sawed lumber, and there is nary a scratch on the deck or hull. If only it would stay that way forever. Barrel happily inventories the larders and sees that everything is arranged to his taste.

There is almost a panic when Alaerdorix decides to make an appearance, swooping down from an early morning flight to land lightly on a gunwale. It's hard to tell if it helped or hindered the situation when he began calling encouragingly to the crew in an exaggerated sailor's brogue, but within minutes, the crew and deckhands were laughing and teasing each other about their reaction to the little dragon.

The dragon gets quite a chuckle when the Captain whistles down two massive and shaggy apes from the crows nest where they had been lounging, having seen them from above as he approached. When they swing effortlessly to the deck, using the rigging like vines in their native environment, and thump menacingly to the deck, the crew once again flies into a near panic, some going so far as to begin to draw weapons, before they realize that this, too, is apparently to be expected on this bizarre ship. Were they to stand at their full height, they would tower over all aboard, being near 9 feet tall each. As it is, they remain hunched for the most part. The Captain sets them to lifting heavy loads, but rather than using the gangplank, they seem to enjoy leaping from the dock and grabbing the cargo netting draped over the gunwales before dragging themselves and their load over the edge to dump it (rather unceremoniously) upon the deck. One barrel of water is smashed to bits in this manner, testing the waterproofing of the deck below as it's contents stream along with the rocking of the ship.

The deckhands set to helping the longshoremen, first lugging the equipment on board, and then lashing it down securely in it's place. It's hard work, but the crew seem motivated and excited to be off. The wind is moderate, blowing south by southeast at a pleasant clip. Once the ship is unmoored, she should be able to catch the wind with little trouble.

Once the longshoremen have completed their loading, the sergeant leading the small squad of soldiers approaches Captain Silvius to see if he had any further need of them, or if his crew were ready to take over the watch.

[JanusJones]

When the barrel of water crashes on the deck, the first thing akin to a cloud crosses Barrel's bright smile. A crate on one shoulder, he steps aside the captain, speaking sotto voice down to the smaller man.

"'Dem shift big weight, ya' mon, but Cyap'n sah, us need 'dat water when we afloat, no? If 'dem cyan' be careful, mebbe you ask 'dem to 'elp some otha way?"

He shoots a meaningful glance at the Count's man, then continues, earnestly. "Mebbe you ask 'im if we cyan' 'ave anotha. It a dry day on 'de waves when 'de only water be salt."

[Breitheamh]

The massive orc carrying ridiculous loads onto the ship is the first thing Harren notices. He smiles a genuine smile at the sight, hoping for the rest of the voyage to be just as surprising and wonderful.

When Barrel pulls the Captain aside, he allows himself to eavesdrop, and replies to the orc's concerns with a wink, "No need to fret, sir. The Lady of Luck favors those who work and smile as you do, so I tell you truly, you are in luck. She can provide us with what we need on the journey if the going gets rough. No need to bother the Count or his man."

He glances at Fernin Caspra with his last comment, reading the discomfort clearly on his face.

[JanusJones]

The big orc grins. "I an' I a true believah wen' it come to Lady Luck, yes mon'. But 'dat one lady who only give favor to 'dem what make it for 'demselves. I doan' trouble 'er if'n I an' I cyan' fix it meself."

He nods deferentially to the Captain. "But 'dat a call for 'de Cyap'n to make. I an' I jus' 'ere for to cook and fight."

He sticks a massive paw out to Harren. "'Dem call me Big Barrel. May 'de Lady smile on all us 'ere, and on 'dis ship."

[Starbin]

Antos was quiet on the way back, not having much to say. He found the Count's attitude curious, but there was little he could do about it right now. Best to keep his opinions to himself for the moment. Instead, he spent time glancing out the carriage, trying to orient himselft. This was a new city; one he had never been to before. Best to know a little about it before he started calling it home, right?

Once they were at the ship, he nodded to the Captain's orders, moving to check on his room to make sure his gear was secure, then heading to check the weapons. He remembered one of the crew had a knack for seige engines, so he ask anyone nearby, "Any of you salty dogs seen Ellor?"

Looks like we have a ballista and a catapult; while I know we don't have cannons, do we have anything else (heavy crossbows set on the side, giant slings with bowling ball stones, etc)? Also, I noticed the Weapon Stores were empty ... anything like greek alchemist fire, hot oil, grape shot, harpoons, etc?

[Vertharrad]

Ammara heads off to do the Captains bidding when she catches sight of the big lizard and jungle beasts. This is going to get interesting. I definitely found an odd bunch. She makes sure that she has all needed items to accomplish her responsibilities as one of the officers.

Ammara heads to the deck for the introductions. She frowns slightly, she hasn't had to do this. Her former crew was more family than just another pack of sailors and she grew up with them, everyone knew everyone else. She tucks away her frown and apprehension when faced with the other sailors, morale can make or break a crew.

[Tempestfury]

Nerethera smiled wryly at the count’s response, how he took her question about a crate into a brig for the ship. It wasn’t what she was actually asking about, but hey. Not only did she get her request, but she earned the count’s respect with her question. So it worked out even better than she had intended. No need to tell him of why she actually wanted the crate.

The Warmage wasn’t really impressed by the carriage’s. In fact, she thought they were simply a bit too much in what they had, and that more functional carriage’s would off suited them all much more, and have less horses having to pull the carriage’s, but the rich would be the rich and use their money however they wanted. Who was she to decry their sponsor for their decisions.

Once at the dock, Nerethera was soon told by the Captain to go and get their new crate/brig from the dockmaster, to which Nerethera nodded without saying much. Through before she could go, there was a series of commotions as her companion finally showered up, then some giant gorillas dropped from the crow’s nest. The gorilla’s surprised her as much as the others, but she also recognized that they were connected to the Captain, so wasn’t too alarmed.

With all said and done, she decided it was best to speak up about her request before leaving to get iron crate. “Hey Captain, any chance of getting enough sand to partly fill a section or two of the brig? Ala up there will probably spend all voyage curled up on the stove and getting in the way otherwise.”

[Breitheamh]

Harren slaps his hand into Barrel's, notices that it barely equals the orc's palm, and with a chuckle, grasps the meaty paw with both hands.

"Well met, Master Barrel. My name is Harren Roth. And very truly I believe, sir, that we shall indeed have a lucky voyage."

He then grabs a leftover crate and struggles his way up the gangplank to board the ship.

[iTookUrNick]

I've made a unified speech, but you can post anything to go after your introduction (a speech, a few words, a simple reaction).

Pife: the sand thing is opn to retcon. I just tought we could dispense with that detail.
It takes a lot of time and effort to prepare a new ship, and a combat ship at that, for active duty. Most of the work has been done already, but what is left keeps the crew busy for a solid few of hours. Everything has to be packed tight, yet still accessible when needed, and tied in place to sustain the force of both bad weather and contact with the enemy. Stores of food, water and weapons are carefully tallied and recorded on the ship's log. Spares and raw materials are brought in for the inevitable repairs that will have to be made at sea. Everyone knows what needs to be done or is being told by those who do. Even the gorillas, after the incident with the barrel, seem to manage things more carefully. The arrival of the brig/iron crate and a crew of carpenters charged with its installation creates a little confusion on board as things need to be shuffled around in the cargo hold, but everything gets settled in the end. A hint of esitation appears on the dockmaster's face when he is requested enough sand to fill one of those compartments halfway, but he quickly recovers his oily disposition when he remebers that the stuff is used in all sorts of manufacturing processes, and it is just a matter of quantity. Eventually, as preparations near completition, the sound of the bell brings every hand on deck. Capt. Moldbeard judges the time has fianlly arrived to address. He watches, one foot on the deck and one on the steps leading to the quarterdeck, as men and women gather in front of him. The two armored gorillas stand at his sides, and a keen observer, if he were to look upwards, would be able to spot a third entity floating high in between the two masts.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, I am pleased to observe that we've been graced with what seems to be one of the finest crews that ever sailed these seas, made of dedicated, competent people who can work with each other with ease. All these qualities will be put to the test in the coming weeks and months, but I wish to take a moment and say a few words, before we truly begin this venture.

As you know, it is my responsability as Captain to appoint officials and assign duties on this ship. Now, most of you already know what your role will end up being, but I'd like to make it official and known to all. If you wish to make a statement of your own, you will be given the chance to do so after being introduced.

I'll start myself. I've served as a doctor on various vessels and, seeing how we are a little shorthanded I will be covering this position. Both as a doctor and a captain, I expect my words to be followed quickly and efficiently. I respect the dignity and expertise of everyone on board, but if you decide to challenge my commands you'd better have a very good reason to do so, and you'd better be right, or there will be consequences.

Speaking of which, I've selected Lady Ammara as First Mate. Lady Ammara - please step forward - has a vast experience of pirates and their tactics, and her seamanship has won her high praises from our sponsor. In addition to her other duties, she will be in charge of mantaining discipline aboard, according to the Ship's charter and any special disposition that might be put in place in the future. I hope she will not have to dedicate any time at all to this particular task; make it so.

On the other hand, I hope there will be plenty of time to celebrate our victories. Master Barrel - please step forward, even if you are hard to miss - has reluctantly agreed to serve as Second Mate, putting his widom and experience in service to the ship, but his natural talent lies at the stoves. He will be in charge of the preparation and rationing of food provisions, as well as alcholic beverages, according to the ship's charter and any special disposition that might be put in place in the future. It might be worthwile for you all to familiarise yourself with said document. If you can't read, ask someone who can to help you.

Next, I present you Master Antos. Step forward please: he will be serving on this ship as Pilot. Anyone at the rudder should consult with him with regards to proper heading and route. As an unusual complement to his excellent navigational skills, he will also be leading the team manning the ballista during naval engagements.

At the head of the team manning the catapult we'll have Lady Nethera - please step forward - our dedicated Artillery Specialist. Between her magical abilities and her detailed knowledge of siege engines, I expect she'll be instrumental in softening our targets before making direct contact. She'll also be in charge of mantaining the engines and weapon provisioning.

Last, but not least, among the officers is Master Roth. Please step forward. His official designation will be ship's Prelate, and you are indeed encouraged to present him with your spiritual necessities, if you feel so inclined. My devotion lies elsewher, but I reckon the Lady of Luck is held in high regard by many seamen. Master Roth also happens to be gifted with a knack for dealing with people; I expect his skills as a negotiator will increase our profits, if nothing else, but might end up benefit us greatly throughout our journeys in ways we cannot predict.

One position remains to be filled, that of the Quartermaster. I've been informed that one among you is especially suited for the task, because of his trade and natural aptitude, but it is not my place to name him. Take the time, in the next day or so, to convene upon a name and to present me with your decision.

Finally, I wish to remark upon a point that is of special concern to me. We'll be having some less usual creatures on board. It might go without saying to some, but it has to be the understanding that they are to be treated with the respect accorded to regular crew members, with certain privileges and responsabilities dictated by their nature.

This is all. Now, it is high time we get this show on the road, or the sea, as it may. Everybody break ranks and man your posts! Let us set sail to riches and glory!"

[pife]

"Any of you salty dogs seen Ellor?"

The burly and already shirtless dwarf shoulders his way forward to Antos with haste, and draws up in a smart salute. AYE SIR! The dwarf's bellow causes the ears of those nearby to ring. I be Ellor,
he continues in a more normal tone.


Looks like we have a ballista and a catapult; while I know we don't have cannons, do we have anything else (heavy crossbows set on the side, giant slings with bowling ball stones, etc)? Also, I noticed the Weapon Stores were empty ... anything like greek alchemist fire, hot oil, grape shot, harpoons, etc?

Response to the spoiler above:
The ship currently has 50 reloads each for ballista and catapult. The ships armory holds 5 Heavy Crossbows, 200 quarrels, 10 Spears, 10 Battle Axes, 20 Hand Axes, 20 Swords (10 Long, 10 Short), 30 Daggers. (not a proper armory, but a series of racks in one of the other "rooms" of the ship, you guys can decide which, if it's relevant.


As far as other equipment, there are "tools", including hammers, woodaxes, splitting wedges, a couple of wooden mauls for driving them, etc. Carpenters tools, Sailmakers tools, a half dozen sets sets of Block and Tackle of various sizes, 20 sets of shackles, literally a ton of rope and rigging line of various lengths and thicknesses, along with carabiners and fasteners for them of all kinds, belaying pins, several barrels of pitch, scraping tools, mops etc. Anything reasonable and mundane (suitable for a sailing ship) that you ask about will likely be present (and I will add it to the list of stores later). None of the tools are masterwork.


The Dockmaster, after recovering from his surprise at the bizarre request, has several of his lads set off to a local glassblower's shoppe, where they procure several barrels of quartz sand, which they bring back to the ship on the double-quick in wheelbarrows. He also rousts a crew of carpenters to mount and anchor the brig crate. The Master Carpenter approaches Captain Silvius diffidently when his crew has finished their work. Uh, sir, these be fer ye.. In his hands are three locks (amazing) with two keys for each. His words spent, he bows nervously, and chivvies his men off the ship, casting a backwards glance at the gigantic gorilla's who are hanging from the yardarm one-handed, playfully enjoying a game of "Slap" and hooting at each other.

The crew forms up smartly at the sound of the bell, sweat falling from most brows despite the chill breeze, with Master Bogbottom the last to arrive, having quickly crushed the dottle of his pipe out before falling into the formation. All eyes are on the captain as he speaks, though several eyes do wander to the apes behind him from time to time. Few have been this close to a wild animal that they weren't trying to kill or run from, and it will take some getting used to for some.

Each officer steps forward in turn upon their introduction, and heads swivel about at the mention of the unnamed Quartermaster. Each officer receives a moment to say their piece (or not, as they prefer), which is listened to attentively by the deckhands.

At the conclusion of the speech, when the men begin to break off again, Thad poses a question. Cap'n, where we be headin', if ye don' mind my askin', sir?

Several of the deckhands surround Harren after the speechifying is done, asking him various methods of warding off bad luck, and inquiring as to any specific sacrifices that are required.

Jasfer, on the other hand, moves from prow to mast to wheel to stern, touching each with head bowed and lips moving soundlessly. When he reaches the stern, he sets both hands upon the gunwale. When he lifts them, there are several gold pieces balanced on it's outside edge, looking as if they must fall with the lightest breeze. To the several people who gaze at him queerly for this, he merely states.. It be Umberlee's due, lads. I'd not touch it if'n I were ye. I'll not be the one drownin' for forgetting to ward off the Bitch Queen's hand.

[Breitheamh]

Harren gives a sly smile to his new-found flock, chuckling at the simplicity of their questions. "Lady Luck does not demand sacrifice. In fact, I tell you truly, she hardly demands. Live your life to the full; chase your goals; take chances, and trust in Tymora."

As he notices himself beginning a sermon, he pauses and adds, "Right now, just smile as you work. Come find me if you need me. My Lady blesses the search,"" before excusing himself and slipping off to his quarters to put everything in order.

[Starbin]

Antos nodded to Ellor, waving away the salute. "Yeah, yeah ... save it fer the Cap'n. Next thing ya know, I'll be gettin' shot by a pirate. Yer supposed t'be good with the bigguns ... rock-lobbers and pole-throwers, yeah? I'm workin' the big pig-sticker, 'n the mage'll be working the giant skull-crusher. Guessin' I'll get one or the other in the face or gut one of these days. Hopin' to keep that chance low, so tell me whacha know bout these beauts ..."

---------------------------------------------------------

When the captain introduced him, Antos simply waved a hand from his position near the helm. As soon as Moldbeard finished, he headed to the chart room to start plotting a course. Best to have the answers ready before the Captain asked; they'd probably be wrong and he'd be keel-hauled for it regardless ...

[Vertharrad]

Ammara steps forward momentarily when mentioned by the captain. she scans the faces after getting back into the line of officers trying to gauge just how professional this crew can be, hoping there will be few incidents...no crew has perfect obediance.

************************************************** ***

Seeing Jasfer pay his respects to Umberlee gives her hope that this crew will be just fine. Although not superstitous herself she knows that showing respect to the deities has warded off more mishaps than not. She hurries off to make sure her duties get dealt with in as speedy and crisp a manner.

[pife]

Everything is finally stowed and secured, and the crew mans their posts. The anchor team is ready to weigh anchor, and men are standing by at the rigging to hoist sail.

A scattering of townsfolk have gathered at the dock. Some of these are family members of the crew, and more than one young lady's eye is wet with tears as they wave to their loved ones. Others are merely onlookers, and several young boys with wooden swords have at each other while they play pirate.

Gulls caw loudly from overhead, and the crew awaits their orders.

It's time to begin earning your keep!

[Tempestfury]

Nerethera was leaning against gunwale when the meeting started. When her name was called out, she didn't step forwards but let raised her hand and allowed magic to flickering between her fingers, getting attention in the same way. Once the speech was over however, she spoke up as well, adding her own part to it.

"I'm sure you've all seen the dragon by now. His name is Alaerdorix, and he's my companion. Like the captain said, respect him and treat him like any other crew mate. Being as we're all nice guys, I trust I don't need to lay down a threat as to what might happen if you don't, plus I'm sure you know its a bad idea to piss off a mage, especially one specializing in destruction."

With that being said, Nerethera was off. Heading over to examine the catapult they had installed, wanting to see just how good quality it was.

[JanusJones]

Barrel takes to the deck and begins hauling ropes. Rolling with the ship as it turns out of port, he sways his way across the deck, filling whatever position aboard isn't and lending a hand to anyone who needs it.

[roll0] for Profession (sailor)

[iTookUrNick]

MB puts each set of keys on a leather string, then puts one aroubd his neck and hands tge other set to his first mate.

At the conclusion of the speech, when the men begin to break off again, Thad poses a question. Cap'n, where we be headin', if ye don' mind my askin', sir?
"We're... Thad, isn't it?... We'll be heading south, towards the Shining sea. Refer to Master Antos if you need sonething more specific"

To Ammara: "We'll double this upcoming cape and head straight for Myratma, then we'll follow the coast in the hope of finding our intended target before anyone else does. I'll find Antos and get us momething more specific. I want to run a few drills before we make contact, possibly during the first long stretch of open water we encounter: please see if you can get it organized once more pressing matters have been dealt with".

After speaking to Ammara, he seeks the pilot and ibforms:smallwink: him of their plans, so that he might prepare.

[Vertharrad]

Ammara accepts the other set of keys and puts them in a pocket on her vest. Aye Capt'n. It'll be done. When they've come to a good stretch of water she heads off to organize a drill session.

[pife]

There is nothing quite like the sound when the canvas fully catches the wind for the first time. With the sails and pennants crackling sharply, and bow cutting cleanly through small swells, everyone starts to work the kinks out. Officers move across the deck, ordering this line tightened, that one secured. Every ship has a different temperament, a different way that she likes to be sailed, and this one is no different. Though unnamed, she handles smoothly, responsive and quick, and the crew settles into the work with aplomb.

The captain puts the ship through a series of maneuvers, and gauges the wind in her sails at every point on the compass, to see how close to the wind she would have to run. Alaerdorix takes to the air and swoops back and forth around and through the rigging, getting a feel for his new environment. For the gorillas, their immediate setting almost feels like home. Plenty of "vines" and "trees" to climb, but somehow, they never get in the way, and a whistle and a pointed finger from the captain ensures that their next task gets done. (Thad is overheard whining that they could all be replaced, and he catches good natured ribbing from the rest of the crew about how the apes smell better than he does already)..

For the course of a full day, the tests continue, as the vessel is led out into deeper water, higher swells, and sterner winds. By the end of the day, most everyone aboard is cold, and wet, and exhausted. Big Barrel lays out a fine meal to celebrate the ships inaugural voyage. A course is laid in, angling slightly southeast back toward the shoreline, and in an approximate intercept course for Count T'Bor's merchantman. The watches are set, the sails are reefed, and the captain calls his officers into the mess to discuss the day's events and plan for the future.

Activities:

ALL: Make a profession: Sailor check to see if you notice anything out of the ordinary

Big Barrel: You brought some special items aboard (things that would spoil quickly, so they must be cooked early in the voyage) to set the crew's mouths to watering when the mess bell rang. Please make a cooking roll to see what impact it will have on the crew for the entire voyage.. (Rather than trying to keep up with it daily, every time we set out from port, I will have you roll to see if you can nudge morale, health and crew attitude up).

Harren: You spend the first couple of days aboard trying to determine what exactly the spiritual needs of the crew will be, as well as gauge their general health. Please make a Knowledge: Religion and a Heal check

Moldbeard: Also to gauge crew health, make a Heal Check. To determine the weather for the next few days, please make a Survival Check. And just to ensure that the apes don't misbehave, please give me a Handle Animal Check.

Antos: You have the opportunity to overhear a whispered conversation late one night while you are performing your rounds. Give me a Listen Check, DC 17

Nerethera: Throw me a Siege Engineer roll to check the weapons for any problems. And a Knowledge: Arcana check to see if you notice anything strange.

Ammara: As First Mate, you want your words to be taken as law. Give me an Intimidate check (modified by Cha) to see how well the crew is settling into your command.

[Breitheamh]

While the men laugh and drink, Harren brings out his Yarting, fiddling with the tuning for a moment, before standing up on a table and beginning to play. He plucks out a melody for a little, than strums a few chords, as he begins, "This is a poem I have been thinking up for My Lady. It's not finished, so if you are all willing, I'd like to sing what I have so far, and I'll let you all add in your own bits and pieces, and may luck guide our words.

Ahem.

I tell you this truly,
My Lady, she guides me
Through all of the struggle and fear.
But 'ere I determine
To begin here a sermon,
I'll raise my glass high, to good cheer!

Oh, out on the sea,
Where I can feel free,
With Luck as my mainsail
And me at the wheel.
I tell you all truly,
I'm glad to be near ye.
My friends are my crew
And Tymora's my keel!

As he finishes the last line, Harren plucks a few more notes before returning to the strumming rhythm and says with a big smile, "Now, who would like to give me a verse, any verse at all? Make it up, steal it, I don't care!"

[JanusJones]

Barrel, a thick sweat on his massive limbs as he hefts plates heaped with steaming boar's flanks and heavy pots of a thick, hearty stew laced with beer, cheese, and leeks, bellows out as he serves:

Oh my belly's full
and so's the sail
and we're sealed up tight
not a droplet to bail

A drink in my hand
and me mates by my side
and the rolling sea
for our ship to ride!

Oh the onliest thing
for a man to be
is a wild wooly sailor
on the wild wooly sea!

No there's no man can lay
a hand upon me
for this ship's bound for glory
that's our destiny!

[iTookUrNick]

Cpt. Molbeard has many useful talents, but music and rumes are not among them. Still, the athmosphere is quite enjoyable after the day's activities, so he finds himself beating the table to the tune

[Starbin]

Antos was peering at the coast from the quarterdeck as the singers entertained the crew. He glanced down, eying both the priest and the cook, as both men attempted to out do the other in rhyme and meter. He shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Great. Just great. All that singin' is sure ta bring forward the siryns ... then we'll ALL be in a pretty pickle. That or sea hags ... damn things HATE music ..."

Of course, that didn't stop the pessimistic navigator from tapping one hand against his thigh, subconsciously ...

[pife]

You have all been on other ships. Some of them were better than others, or worse. So far, though, this one has been quite a pleasure cruise. As the first day blends into the second, the overnight watches maintain course and speed admirably, reporting no events or abnormalities. Dinner was a bonafide triumph, and deckhands clap Barrel on the back, and speak in glowing terms over their full and satisfied bellies. They are prone to singing while working, and this not only keeps spirits high, it tends to cause the work to go more quickly, even more efficiently. So far, the officers have been able to command with a light hand, and even when small errors are made, they are corrected quickly and without much ado.

Ammara begins running drills, having someone pipe General Quarters, to judge the crew's reaction time. Oh, it's far from perfect, especially the first few times, but already the crew has begin to find their groove, and stop getting in each others way when rushing to their stations. There is still improvement to be made, but even the Captain has to admit that his men are performing well.

The ship itself (which remains unnamed), performs up to standards as well, being as responsive and seaworthy as anyone could expect or hope. The officers diligently and professionally check everything from stem to stern, setting a team to rousting out the rats that plague all ships, finding weak joins and hawsers, loose cleats and things of the sort, but finding them before they fail, and arranging for them to be fixed.

Nerethera drills her catapult team, having them fire a few practice shots at detritus floating along in the sea. They know their work, and, while not elite, they'll not embarrass themselves either when the chips are down. She is even able improve on the winding of the torsion lines, granting an additional 50 feet of range (and at a +1 TH as well).

Antos, as well as entertaining the crew, happens to heading to the jakes one evening, and overhears a conversation that Vance is quietly having with Jasfer. "S'not my place to say, but.. I've been on the route that ships use to bring goods up from where we's headed.. There's an inlet, wi' a tall stone column just ashore, what they use to keep watch from... I've been ashore there a time or two. They's got a watchpost there, betimes.. Coupla' shacks, goodly bit o' stores laid by too. Usually, 'bout a dozen or three bucks there, keepin' an eye on them boats what stay close to shore. They got a coupla rakers there, quick lil' things, and when they sees a ship what they want ta take, they use this sorcerer to warn the big ship what's out ta see to intercept it, and when the mama ship comes rollin down the waves at their target, those rakers rush em from the other side. Neat little trap they lays there, comin up quick from the side nobody's watchin. Antos, you've heard a lot of stories before, and are talented at winnowing out the wheat from the chaff, as it were. This definitely sounds like a legitimate thing, not some salty yarn. In other news, your charts are good, and you're even able to make some additions to it as to currents and shoals. You figure that you've put the ship right in the line that a nervous captain would take if he were trying to bring something into Velen on the quick.

Captain Moldbeard, bringing two apes aboard ship takes a bit of getting used to, and there will be some growing pains. So far, they've been mostly well behaved, but at one point, wholly by accident, one of them knocks Rastin right over the side, causing you to have to come about and fish him out of the water. He's right chilled when you bring him out, but seems to be no worse for the wear. He even thinks it's almost as funny as the rest of the crew do. To his credit, the offending ape has been trying to pick things out of Rastin's greasy hair ever since, likely trying to make amends. As far as you can gather, the ship is well built, sails true, and has a surprising turn of speed. (you will have a slight advantage over ships of equal speed, due to the modifications and preparations that you and the officers have been putting into motion). You are also able to note when Master Bogbottom starts favoring his left ankle, and find a small infection there in a scrape that he took while loading the ship, which is quickly dealt with before it becomes a problem.

Harren spends a lot of his time talking to the crew, finding out their personal beliefs and spiritual needs. Most are fairly common, worshippers of Tymora, of Chauntea, of Helm, of Torm. Jasfer lives in abject fear of Umberlee. You wouldn't go as far as calling him a "worshipper", but he's seen several ships go down for no apparent reason, and he definitely has the idea that it's her doing. There is also a devout follower of Brandobaris (Bogbottom), of Baravar Cloakshadow (Taloqua), and surprisingly, of Malar (Fargin). The Malarite is the only one you have much concern about at this point, but he seems content to just plan various ways to chase down and skin any hobgoblins that you run across. He does eye Big Barrel with a squinty eye sometimes, but you don't think anything will come of that, especially if the crew continues to eat as well as they have.

It's on the morning of the third day, when the wind begins to kick up from the north (convenient, considering you're heading mostly south), and Jim Stannage calls down from the crows nest, "SAIL.. THREE POINTS TO STARBOARD". It takes a few minutes before those on deck can make it out, but Stannage's warning coalesces into a two masted, narrow beamed vessel beating to the west at about half-sail. It's still quite a way off, and you can't make much out from this distance, but they don't seem to be in any hurry.

[iTookUrNick]

Molbeard is on the top deck as the call about the sighting is made. His eyesight is as keen as it has ever been, but even after staring and squinting he still can't make out much about the vessel at the horizon.

"Alright, gents. Let's go and greet them face to face. Master Antos, set us on an interception course. Lady Ammara, see to our flags and signal our intention to approach peacefully. Lady Nethera, ready siege engines and crew. I do not expect to use them, but being prepared in vain is the better alternative. Master Barrel, organize a bording party with everyone who's not otherwise engaged; let's go with a non-threatening apperance if we can manage it. Master Roth, you'll join them: if things remain peaceful I want you to interact with whoever is on that ship and find out anything you can anout our querry and this area. If things get sour... Well, I'm sure you know what to do".

[JanusJones]

Barrel waves a huge hand at a few of the crew - those who were rough enough to wrestle with him in their cups, or who've shown signs of well-kept and efficient weaponry. He points out a few likely spots on the deck - close enough to allow for a quick leap onto the ropes, should it come to it, but spaced out - no cluster of menacing or well-armed thugs. Before they disperse, he knits his brow in thought, then spreads his arms out in what is almost a shrug.

"If'n you need 'dem, you bes' bring a hook an' line, but Cap'n say no scarin' 'dis ship, so keep 'dem at you feet. You wait for Cap'n's say, but if I an' I go across, doan' leave me lonely, yah?"

He grins, winks, and points to the positions before he takes his own, eyes on the sail. As he watches, he unslings the barrel from his back and lifts it above his head, gulping down a thick stream of black rum without spilling a drop. When the barrel's back in place, he sways a bit more with the rolling surf, and his eyes are perhaps a bit shinier, his grin wider.

[pife]

Molbeard is on the top deck as the call about the sighting is made. His eyesight is as keen as it has ever been, but even after staring and squinting he still can't make out much about the vessel at the horizon.

"Alright, gents. Let's go and greet them face to face. Master Antos, set us on an interception course. Lady Ammara, see to our flags and signal our intention to approach peacefully. Lady Nethera, ready siege engines and crew. I do not expect to use them, but being prepared in vain is the better alternative. Master Barrel, organize a bording party with everyone who's not otherwise engaged; let's go with a non-threatening apperance if we can manage it. Master Roth, you'll join them: if things remain peaceful I want you to interact with whoever is on that ship and find out anything you can anout our querry and this area. If things get sour... Well, I'm sure you know what to do".

Someone pipes battlestations, and the crew bursts into motion. Ellor and Rastin rip the covers off of the siege engines, while Vance readies ammunition for both weapons. Thad, Taloqua, and Markin maintain their posts by the rigging, ready to adjust to any new commands, while Aileen, who was on the wheel looks to the Captain expectantly for course corrections, if any are needed.

The ship slowly gets nearer, and obviously sees you, as they put on more sail and turn slightly toward, but not directly. At current closure speed, it would appear that it will be about twenty to thirty minutes before they are in range, if you bear straight at them.


Barrel waves a huge hand at a few of the crew - those who were rough enough to wrestle with him in their cups, or who've shown signs of well-kept and efficient weaponry. He points out a few likely spots on the deck - close enough to allow for a quick leap onto the ropes, should it come to it, but spaced out - no cluster of menacing or well-armed thugs. Before they disperse, he knits his brow in thought, then spreads his arms out in what is almost a shrug.

"If'n you need 'dem, you bes' bring a hook an' line, but Cap'n say no scarin' 'dis ship, so keep 'dem at you feet. You wait for Cap'n's say, but if I an' I go across, doan' leave me lonely, yah?"

He grins, winks, and points to the positions before he takes his own, eyes on the sail. As he watches, he unslings the barrel from his back and lifts it above his head, gulping down a thick stream of black rum without spilling a drop. When the barrel's back in place, he sways a bit more with the rolling surf, and his eyes are perhaps a bit shinier, his grin wider.

Philodoxis and Fargin jump below decks for a few moments, returning from the arms locker with crossbows, daggers and blades at their belt, while Jasfer merely walks to a rack up on deck and selects two wicked boarding axes. All three take up the posts indicated by Barrel, and both Jasfer and Fargin look rather happy about it.

[Vertharrad]

Aye Capt'n. Ammara goes to get 2 crew members and hoist the flags. She makes sure to have the correct flags and have them displayed in the proper manner.

[Tempestfury]

Nerethera was over by the catapult when the cover was removed, getting in position to help the catapult being fired if it was necessary. She hoped that it wouldn’t, but she was starting to get a sneaking suspicion that it was... trying to be appear casual and unthreatening, the warmarge double checked her currently wrapped up banner, making sure it would be easy to release and unravel, before scanning the deck and rigging to see if her dragon was up, most likely he’ll be snoozing in his sand.

[Starbin]

Antos made sure the Captain and the rest of the officers knew about the rumors concerning a hidden cove from which the foul of heart might use to intercept trade ships. He found it best to let the others know and dismiss the information, rather than never share it and find out it was true. "Take it or leave it, Cap'n. If'n we keep two eyes to the cove, it'll be naught but sailor's chat. But sure as rain, if'n we ignore it, we'll be sunk before we hear the sound of their catapults ... or it seems that's the way it goes."

-------------------------------------------
Needless to say, when the ship appears ahead of them, Antos is thinking only the worst possible outcome. When the Captain called for an intercept course, he waved a salute and hollered, "Aye, aye, Cap'n." Of course, under his breath, he muttered, "Prolly a dragon-prowed northman's ship, come from the Dales ta plunder the coast ... filled with savages and monsters, no doubt. We'll be sitting in the locker afore this day is through, most likely ..."

[Breitheamh]

Harren calmly hustles over to Barrel's line, reciting a silent prayer for himself and the men as he goes. He asks for courage, determination, and luck. When he gets to the group he gives a smile and a wink to the crewmembers.

"A beautiful day, isn't it? I'm thinking our luck will pan out. Just a sneaking suspicion," he says with the corner of his mouth upturned as barely noticeable pale blue wisps swirl around his hand.

He checks to make sure his hand crossbow is loaded and puts his summoner's wand in his belt, keeping it close at hand.

[iTookUrNick]

Antos made sure the Captain and the rest of the officers knew about the rumors concerning a hidden cove from which the foul of heart might use to intercept trade ships. He found it best to let the others know and dismiss the information, rather than never share it and find out it was true. "Take it or leave it, Cap'n. If'n we keep two eyes to the cove, it'll be naught but sailor's chat. But sure as rain, if'n we ignore it, we'll be sunk before we hear the sound of their catapults ... or it seems that's the way it goes."
"Thanks for reporting that, Master Antos. We'll be sure to keep an eye out for trouble coming from that direction. Why, we might even consider paying a quick visit on purpose!".

[Vertharrad]

Ammara scowls. You two finish raising the flags. I have business to attend to. She approaches Captain Moldbeard close enough to speak in private. That's the Flaming Gibbet a real piece of work Canthus Darkfoot mage-priest of Cyric commands it...and we are not going to have a warm welcome. He's a cruel, capricious, beast of a man. I would suggest we be ready for action.

[iTookUrNick]

Ammara scowls. You two finish raising the flags. I have business to attend to. She approaches Captain Moldbeard close enough to speak in private. That's the Flaming Gibbet a real piece of work Canthus Darkfoot mage-priest of Cyric commands it...and we are not going to have a warm welcome. He's a cruel, capricious, beast of a man. I would suggest we be ready for action.
"Well, that changes everything. I am of the opinion that there is no time like the present for dealing with trouble, especially considering we might find it again on our way back, but you seem much better informed than I am, so I will heed your advice on this matter: do you reckon we can take this Darkfoot and his crew in a way that will not leave us unable to complete our other objective? Take a moment to think hard about it, then provide me with your best guess. Also, in the future please refrain from using the word beast the way you did: men, not beasts, are Cruelty's champions in this world". Molbeard just could not let that one slide, at the cost of feeling a bit preachy.

[Vertharrad]

He has a iron fist on his crew with threats of violence if they don't conform to his wishes. He also forces his captors to commit horrid crimes in order to live. I wouldn't be against a skirmish to test our own capabilities, but such decision is yours to make. A chilling smile curls her lips. Aye Capt'n. Duly noted. She goes back to make sure the flags have been raised and waits for further orders dismissing the two sailors after the flags have been raised.

[iTookUrNick]

Cpt. Moldbeard mulles over what Ammara said for a handful of seconds. This is his first command, and his firrst skirmish, just a couple of days into the voyage, thretens to be quite the challenge. At least, he muses after reaching his decision, he could nt ask for a less ambiguous target. He bellows:

"Siege crews, prepare to engage the target. Boarding party, you can drop all pretenses of amicability. This is not a drill: I've been informed that the oncoming vessel is manned by pirates of the worse kind, scum of the world. We're going to do some cleaning up, and free a few captives while we're at it. I repeat: prepare for engagement; this is not a drill.

"Lady Nethera, the enemy ship is led by some sort of magic user. After we open fire, I expect you to protect us against long-range spells. Try and cordinate with Master Roth not to leave gaps in our defenses while attacking".

[JanusJones]

Barrel grins hugely and does a little jig in anticipation, capering in place like a schoolboy.

[Tempestfury]

Nerethera smiled grimly to herself when they were told to prepare for battle, an order not needed to be given by her, as the catapult team was already starting to load the catapult. Nerethera was about to lend her aid when the Captain addressed her specifically, stating that he hoped she would provide a defence against the ship’s own magic user.

“I’ll try and do my best Captain, but my specialty is destruction, not protection. A better chance for me to defend the ship is take their mage out ASAP, but if you’ll prefer me to focus on defence, I’ll follow your orders captain.”

[iTookUrNick]

Nerethera smiled grimly to herself when they were told to prepare for battle, an order not needed to be given by her, as the catapult team was already starting to load the catapult. Nerethera was about to lend her aid when the Captain addressed her specifically, stating that he hoped she would provide a defence against the ship’s own magic user.

“I’ll try and do my best Captain, but my specialty is destruction, not protection. A better chance for me to defend the ship is take their mage out ASAP, but if you’ll prefer me to focus on defence, I’ll follow your orders captain.”
"Uhm, I can see how we might have opposite views on the matter, yet it would not do to bend you against your natural inclinations... Very well, you may use whatever method you deem appropriate to shut down the enemy caster, keeping in mind that the safety of this ship and her crew in this early phase rests mostly on your shoulders".

[Vertharrad]

Ammara clenches her fist to keep from grasping her scabbard in anticipation. Not knowing her place in this she further waits for the conflict with an untested crew and bloodthirsty pirate's as opponent's. Canthus Darkfoot prepare yourself. She puts away any thoughts of her last battle and clears her mind of other distractions, any mistake's at this point could be disastrous.

[Breitheamh]

Harren draws his rapier, trying to keep the nervousness from showing on his face. He smiles at the small boarding party.

"When we get close enough, I will put the blessings of Tymora upon each of you, and My Lady will protect us. Now let's have some fun, shall we?"

[JanusJones]

As the catapult is loaded, Barrel is drinking - gulping convulsively, great streams of black rum running out of the corners of his mouth. As he lowers the barrel, he catches sight of the siege engine, and his eyes gleam with a manic energy. Casting down the barrel, he grabs a heavy length of timber - stock for repairs to the mast - and staggers with a sudden lurch from his station.

With a bound, he's at the catapult, heaving out the ammunition to the deck. He leaps into the cup, and, hooting with excitement, hollers to the surprised engineers.

"'Dem pirates 'tink 'dem rude boys, but 'dem nevah meet us, no sah! I an' I wan' hurry to meet 'dem - give a man wings to fly!"

I'm hoping Cap'n had the foresight to cast whatever buffs he wanted on our insane, drunken assault boarder ... :smallamused::smallmad::smallfurious: rrrrraaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

[Breitheamh]

As Harren prays for the crew's hearts to be true and their luck to hold strong, he is suddenly aware of Barrel shouting maniacally from elsewhere. He opens his eyes, sees the massive half-orc curled up in the catapult and laughs at the insanity. He dashes over to him, yelling, "Wait! If you're going to throw yourself at the enemy, you're not going to do it without some luck on your side."

He gives Barrel a wink as he places his hands on the half-orc's shoulders and begins to mutter prayers and incantations, blessing him with holy power from his Lady.

So, I cast lesser vigor, shield of faith, and aid on you.
You have fast healing 1 for 15 rounds, and a +1 morale bonus on attack rolls and saves v. fear, +3 deflect to AC, and [roll0] temp. hp for 7 min.

[iTookUrNick]

Moldbeard keeps the situation well under control as the two ships rapidly approach the range where they can start targetting each other. He directs the crew to leverage what possible advantage can be had in the circumstance. He toughen up the skin of both Barrel and Ammara, both of which are likely to see action up close and personal, and buffs his own elemental companion with what he has left.

When he sees what Barrel is about to do, though, he calls for the elemental to hug Barrel as he climbs on the catapult. Despite his bulk, the elemental's weight is negligible (after all, he's made of air), but he might be of great help during and after the landing.

Heart of Earth (http://dndtools.eu/spells/complete-mage--58/heart-of-earth--877/), Heart of Water (http://dndtools.eu/spells/complete-mage--58/heart-of-water--879/), Girralon's Blessing (http://dndtools.eu/spells/spell-compendium--86/girallons-blessing--3792/), Jaws of the Morray (http://dndtools.eu/spells/stormwrack--87/jaws-of-the-moray--3360/) and Bull's Strength (http://dndtools.eu/spells/players-handbook-v35--6/bulls-strength--2788/) on the Large Air Elemental (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/monsters/elemental.htm).

Large Elemental (Air, Extraplanar)
Hit Dice: 8d8+24 (60 hp) +20 tHP; Fort +5, Ref +13 (Evasion), Will +2 (Devotion)
Initiative: +11; Speed: Fly 100 ft. (perfect) (20 squares)
Armor Class: 20 (–1 size, +7 Dex, +4 natural), touch 16, flat-footed 13
Base Attack/Grapple: +6/+14; +8 vs trip, bull rush, overrun.
Full Attack: 2 slams +12 melee (2d6+4), 2 claws +7 (1d4+4), bite +7 (2d6+4)
Space/Reach: 10 ft./10 ft.
Special Attacks: Air mastery, whirlwind (4 rounds, 40ft high, DC 168, 2d6 damage, 20ft radius cloud of debries)
Special Qualities: Share Spells, DR 5/–, darkvision 60 ft., elemental traits (Immunity to poison, sleep effects, paralysis, and stunning. Not subject to critical hits or flanking. Does not eat, sleep, or breathe.)
Abilities: Str 18, Dex 25, Con 16, Int 6, Wis 11, Cha 11
Skills: Listen +5, Spot +6; +12 escape artist.
Feats: Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Flyby Attack, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finesse

[Tempestfury]

"Get the hell out of the catapult!" Nerethera snapped, arcane power dancing across her hand as she got angry at the stupid, drunken half-orc. Worst of all, is that everyone was rushing to go and help him with it. "I'm the siege engineer here, so I'm the one that decides what gets fired when, and I'm not firing anyone until I know won't miss!" With the half-orc having removed the stone, the catapult team had nothing to fire... so Nerethera would have to attack herself.

Pointing her finger towards the boat, a glowing red, pea-sized bead shot out of her hand and raced across the distance between the boats. It was very hard to track, and in all likelyhood, everyone lost track of it. At least, until hit its target... exploding in a fireball of fire that reached out to consume everything in a 20ft radius of in its firey inferno.

DC17, Reflex for half damage.
[roll0] Damage to all living beings AND unattened objects. Oh and sets fire to most objects as well

[pife]

Upon the Captain's command, the helmsman pulls the wheel hard over to starboard, and the ship lurches heavily as the rudder bites into the frigid water. Everyone has to stabilize themselves as they centrifugal force pushes them to port. Within moments, the ship has presented a broadside to the Gibbet, and the catapult crew waits for the word from Nerathera to fire.

Barrel, slugging down thick dark rum as quickly as he could swallow, has an excellent idea. Settling his cask on his back, he rushes over to the catapult, flings the stone to the deck (where it begins rolling dangerously around), and curls up into a ball, screaming defiance at the opposing crew. Harren rushes over, and stands on his tiptoes to reach into the cup and grasp Barrel's shoulders, casting spell after spell into the waiting half-orc, (who smells like the sawdust on the floor of a seedy tavern by this point).

Simultaneously, two things happen. Nerathera howls for the brave, if foolish, Barrel to remove himself from her artillery, but also flings an arm out to point at the Flaming Gibbet, invoking words of power and sending a glowing red sphere the size of a pea hurtling the distance between them. At the same time, the Captain happens to look into the rigging and see a small.. oddity.. hanging within one of the lanterns hung on the mast, used for nighttime deck illumination. Within the glass of the lantern is a small dark spot. It almost resembles an eye, and it spins around madly, surveying the activities all over the deck. When Nerethera begins casting, it fixes directly on her, unmoving, unblinking.

Anyone who was expecting a result from Nerethera's casting will be disappointed, as nothing seems to happen. However, something DOES occur on your deck. Rancid yellow clouds form in a cylinder 40 feet across and 40 feet tall. From these clouds gushes a veritable downpour of yellowish brown liquid, which burns both the nostrils and the skin. Acid falls in a deluge, soaking almost the entire ship, and most of the crew on deck as well, pooling several inches deep until it starts to flow out of the drains built into the gunwales. Most of the crew is now howling in wretched agony. Taloqua and Markin fall to the deck, their skin seeming to melt away, acrid fumes roiling from their bodies. It is all but certain that they are dead. The only two deckhands not effected at all are Ellor and Aileen, as they were on opposing ends of the ship, Thad in the bow, lashing down a line that had broken loose, and Aileen on the wheel at the stern. The rest of the deckhands, as well as the gorillas, are in various states, as the acid washes over them, burning their skin, and opening terrible weeping sores on their bodies. The acid is slick, and you see several deckhands stumble and slide, though none lose their footing.. yet.

On the Flaming Gibbet, the two eponymous Gibbets begin to sink toward the waves, lowered via block and tackle. The two small forms inside the gibbets seem frantic, climbing awkwardly to the top of the cages, trying to avoid the freezing water as they are obviously being lowered into it to be drowned.

Nerethera's fireball has been counterspelled. Acid Rain has killed Taloqua and Markin. Not picking on the little guys, but they were lower level (and of non-combat classes, specifically rogue, and expert, respectivelyl. ) There is a scrying sensor inside the glass of a lantern on deck. The rest of the deckhands are injured, some seriously. The Gibbet is lowering both of their cages into the water (it will take 2 rounds for the cages to be submerged).

[Vertharrad]

Ammara turns to Moldbeard. Cap'n we can't take much more o this we need to take the fight to them. I be ready to lead a boardin party onto their ship when your ready. Any others ye want goin along? After getting an answer she heads off to make sure that the crew picks up the slack from Taloqua and Markin's deaths. She can feel her own smile stretch from ear to ear as the thought of combat warms her soul.

[Starbin]

Antos shook off the effects of the spell and stepped up to the Captain. "Well, I'm sure'n we're all gonna be toasted 'n roasted when we git there, but I can't hit a sleepin' giant with a bull's eye on 'is chest from here. Best I go wit th' boardin' party."

[iTookUrNick]

The acid stings fiercely as it comes in contact with the skin, but Molbeard has seen this trick before and knows it will not last more than a few moments. A relatively short time, but two crewmembers (his crewmembers) were unable to endure it. Biting down the pain nad frustration, he tries to organize their counterattack.

"Master Roth, if you have no objections, I'd like to teleport Lady Ammara and Master Antos on the enemy vessel.
Lady Nethera, go ahead and fire the orc. We need to bring the fight to the enemy, and we need to do it fast! Just give it your best shot. Aim for the canavas. I'll have Whisper help him down to safety if things do not go according to plan. Those remaining will try to close the distance while supporting you from afar.

Also, i spotted a scrying sensor of sorts hidden in one of the lanterns near the mast. There, see?" he points "That's how they neutralized your spell. I do not know if conveys both sound and sight, but I would endeavor to hide or moves from it in the future."

With that, he carefully moves back and to the side, hoping to avoid any blast centered on the ship, and casts a spell of his own (Boreal Wind), making an effort to give his back to the prying eye to try and hinder the enemy's ability to counter it.

[Breitheamh]

The acid burns through Harren's skin, and he struggles to open his eyes through the pain. The screams of men in burning pain clouds his mind for a moment, and he can barely hear when the captain begins shouting out his orders. But he is able to hear enough.

"Yes, Captain! To me!" he shouts to Ammara and Antos. He runs to a central point between the three of them, praying for Tymora's favor as he goes.

When the boarders reach him, he grabs their arms, lifts his eyes to the sky, and prays, "My Lady, give us your luck. Smile upon us, and give us rejuvenating power to be unyielding in battle."

Finally, he narrows his eyes as he focuses on his landing. A smile curls the corner of his lip. His grip tightens on Ammara and Antos, and suddenly, they are thrust through space in a fraction of a second to land on the enemy quarterdeck.

Casting Divine Favor on myself, and then Mass Lesser Vigor on the three of us, then Dimension Door onto the enemy quarterdeck.

[Tempestfury]

Nerethera cursed under her breath, wondering why she hadn't considered the possibility of being scyred before. Especially as fireball was a rather well known spell. As the others prepared for battle, the warmage pointed at the moving eye, and uttered a quick incanation, attempting to dispell it.

Not waiting to see if her attempt to get rid of it was successful, she turned back to the catapult. Working with the rest of the team - injured, but not out - to aim it and the oncoming ship and fire, intending to launch the orc and the air elemental onto the decks.

Dispell Check: Arcane Mastery, 10+10 = 20
Catapult check: [roll1]

[Vertharrad]

Hearing Harren's summons she approaches after concluding with the crew. She looks across at the other mate...Antos she thinks is his name, hoping that he has the fortitude and skill to do battle on a pirate ships deck. Looking at Antos she speaks Ye betta be ready, combat's gonna get hot 'n heavy over there. I don't think their gonna surrenda.

[Starbin]

Antos stood ready to travel, a dour look on his face. At Ammara's question, he simply snorted. "Combat'll be fine ... if'n we makes it that far. Most likely end up portin' inta the side of th'ship and eaten by sharks. But if we make it over, I'll be ready.

Assuming we can be ready fer a dragonfire spell, or hordes of troglodytes that are probably waitin' fer us ..."

Chipper as usual, but the steel in his eyes belied the hangdog speech. Antos would be ready.

[pife]

With that, he carefully moves back and to the side, hoping to avoid any blast centered on the ship, and casts a spell of his own (Boreal Wind), making an effort to give his back to the prying eye to try and hinder the enemy's ability to counter it.

Your efforts are going to prove fruitful, as your spell will go off without hindrance.



Casting Divine Favor on myself, and then Mass Lesser Vigor on the three of us, then Dimension Door onto the enemy quarterdeck.

Understood. Next round, you will start casting. Two rounds after that, you and the two "passengers" will depart.


Nerethera cursed under her breath, wondering why she hadn't considered the possibility of being scyred before. Especially as fireball was a rather well known spell. As the others prepared for battle, the warmage pointed at the moving eye, and uttered a quick incanation, attempting to dispell it.

Not waiting to see if her attempt to get rid of it was successful, she turned back to the catapult. Working with the rest of the team - injured, but not out - to aim it and the oncoming ship and fire, intending to launch the orc and the air elemental onto the decks.

Dispell Check: Arcane Mastery, 10+10 = 20
Catapult check: [roll1]

Your choice, but you can both yell "fire" and cast your spell in the same round. I'm willing to say that the crew has been constantly adjusting the weapon. However, at the very moment, Harren is half-in and half-out of the cup of the catapult, pouring spells into Barrel. If you fire without warning him, I will give him a Reflex save to avoid having the arm try to take his head off.

The spinning little eye trembles, and flashes into nothingness under the weight of your spellweaving. It has been dispelled.

Just needed a couple of details. A) is Barrel fired THIS round? B) If so, does Harren get hurt by the Catapult?

[pife]

With the groan of stretched rope and the vibrating 'Thump' of the catapult arm slamming against it's frame, Barrel is launched on a high trajectory toward the Flaming Gibbet. Alaerdorix scurries out of the ladderwell that he had been in and, wings flailing, takes clumsily to the sky from the heaving deck. Aileen holds a steady course, pending orders from the Captain, and the other crewmen, in various states of injury are still attempting to keep the ship's sails in trim. Oddly, the acid seemed to have no effect on the wood, metal or canvas it touched, only flesh.

Since a specific point on the ship wasn't mentioned as a target for the catapult, I'm going to let chance decide if Barrel comes down within the wind. Simple D6 roll, 1-4, he's safe, 5-6, he comes down in it. [roll0]

Barrel, Since you are going a fair distance, lets assume you only ever reached a max altitude of 100'. The air Elemental will attempt a reflex save to 'catch' and guide you. If it succeeds, it, combined with your natural falling abilities will allow you to land with no issues. Lets set the DC at 20. Moldbeard, if you would be so kind as to roll a reflex save for your elemental to see how good a 'catcher' he is. Barrel, if the Elemental fails, determine how your landing goes, please.


Canthus: [roll1] Made his save
Borriken: [roll2] Made his save




As the bitter, biting wind slices over the rails of the Flaming Gibbet, the scurrying crew which is still difficult to see clearly from your ship react violently. Several collapse, dead instantly, the gusts pushing them up to the gunwales where their corpses rapidly cover with rime. A full half dozen others are swept screaming over the rails, falling into the water. The sails of the Flaming Gibbet bulge inward, as the gale-force wind fills them to bursting, and the Gibbet heels over to the starboard, causing several other crewmembers, both within and outside of the freezing gale's area stagger, some falling to their knees, and one crewman, standing near the bow with a looking glass tips over the side as well from the rapid and unexpected change in course. There are several armed crewmen still standing on deck, one or two unarmed crewmen still scrambling about, attempting to correct course. One man, wearing resplendent purple robes stands unwavering near the bow, arms moving in complicated and elaborate gestures, while another, standing amidships wearing all gray, does the same. Suddenly, with a flash of light and a guttural roar of rage, there is a.. toad, for lack of a better word, a massive, semi-bipedal toad with arms where it's forelegs should be. It's disgusting brown skin is riven with pustules and eruptions, and it's great, blunt teeth gnash as it looks around for a target. It appeared on the sterncastle next to Aileen, and she shrieks and flinches, CAPTAIIIIIIIN!!!!! HELP! To her credit.. she does not release the wheel.

[iTookUrNick]

Moldeard's satisfaction as he sees the enemy ship lurch sideways in disarray is marred by the realization that the two arcanists are unfazed by the chill. No matter: they will soon be reached by something rather more substantial, namely Barrel's mighty fists. His attention is sudddely pulled back on his own ship as a monstear appears on the deck in front of him. "Enemy on deck!" he shouts. He signals his two simian bodiguards to take on the interloper, distracting him away from the helm, and starts summoning more expendable reinforcements.

Time to put my 1 rank in K:planes into play: [roll0]
Ape-wise, if they stand 15ft away or less, I'm guessing they can full-attack the thing (with 5ft step and reach), otherwise consider the first attack only (each).

Chip:

Claw 1: [roll1] (+2 if flanking), [roll2] (+3 if single attack) //critical threat, see the OOC thread.
Claw 2: [roll3] (+2 if flanking), [roll4]
Rend (if both claws hit): [roll5]
Bite: [roll6] (+2 if flanking), [roll7]

Munk:

Claw 1: [roll8] (+2 if flanking), [roll9] (+3 if single attack)
Claw 2: [roll10] (+2 if flanking), [roll11]
Rend (if both claws hit): [roll12]
Bite: [roll13] (+2 if flanking), [roll14]

MB: sacrifice Wood rot, start spontaneously casting of Summon Nature's Ally V (I'm thinking Dire Lion).

The boreal wind keeps blowing in the same direction.

Let me know what additional rolls, if any, are required.

[JanusJones]

The huge orc curls into a ball in the air, spinning so quickly it looks as if a massive, green stone was hurled from the catapult. Only when he nears the ship does he uncurl into a crouch, drool flying from the edge of his mouth, glazed eyes blown wide by the rushing wind.

He hits the deck in a burst of splintered wood and a sudden whirl of winds. When the smoke clears, the orc stands to his full height of over seven feet, his hands hanging heavy like two massive shovels.

And then, in a blur of motion, he is among them.

With a rolling stagger he weaves unsteadily across the heaving deck. He shouldn't be standing, the way he's weaving, but somehow he moves faster than any normal man.

In a moment, he is on the man in the purple, leaning in what almost looks to be a full-on collapse, then planting his hands, snapping his head up and flipping, heels over head, his feet scything an almost full circle from the ground to pound down onto the man's shoulders and neck.

Pouncing charge. Doesn't need to be in a straight line if Barrel makes a DC 15 Tumble check: [roll0], so he will attempt to avoid any possible AoOs by staggering around them. Covers up to 120 feet of distance and deals double damage.

It WILL provoke an AoO from the target, thanks to Headlong Rush. Headlong Rush provokes from anyone who can reach him (not for movement, just because his rush is so criz-nazy), hence why being able to charge in a non-straight line is crucial. Can't avoid the AoO from purple robe dude - Barrel will take the hit if the guy wants to try.

He gets three attacks. He has two drinks in him, boosting his Strength by 4 (and lowering his Int and Wis by 4 - eek!).

The first attack is a melee touch attack to trip. The second WILL be if the first doesn't hit. For convenience, I'm rolling all three attacks as trips, in case the first or second doesn't hit; whichever one DOES, the attack tied to it (1, 2, or 3) in the second set of rolls will be the Improved Trip "follow-up" attack. In other words, if the first trip goes through, go right down to the first attack and proceed from there. If the first trip fails and the second doesn't, go for Attack 2 and proceed from there, and so on.

Sorry for the confusion! I'll make this simpler next time, I promise! I think I'm just stoked to finally unleash Barrel, and I want to get it RIGHT.

STAT BREAKDOWN:

Current AC after charge: 15 (-2 for being Drunk, -2 for charging, not counting any buffs - not sure what was cast on Barrel!)
Hit Bonus: +16/+16/+9 (+8 Strength, +7 BaB, -2 flurry, +2 charge, +1 Amulet - his fists count as magic)

Technically, I would deal more damage with a 2-handed weapon, but I find the principle against the Drunken Master's creed. Why would he pound away with a staff? It's just ... not cinematic enough.

Let's hope this guy's AC is sucky and my rolls good, or I'll feel a fool for not using a 2-hander!
Here's goes nothing! *Crossing fingers ...*


TRIP Melee Touch Attack 1: [roll1]
Trip Roll: [roll2] - +8 from Strength, +4 Imp. Trip
Damage: 2d8+2d12+18 = 1d8 (base) + 9 (8 Strength, 1 amulet) + 1d12 (flying kick) TIMES TWO (for Headlong Rush)
Pounce from Lion Totem Barb, Stagger from Drunken Master.


TRIP Melee Touch Attack 2: [roll3]
Trip Roll: [roll4]


TRIP Melee Touch Attack 3: [roll5]
Trip Roll: [roll6]


If that succeeds, here are the follow-through attacks.


Attack/Crit 1: [roll7]/[roll8]
Damage/Crit 1: [roll9]+[roll10]/[roll11]+[roll12]


Attack/Crit 2: [roll13]/[roll14]
Damage/Crit 2: [roll15]+[roll16]/[roll17]+[roll18]


Attack/Crit 3: [roll19]/[roll20]
Damage/Crit 3: [roll21]+[roll22]/[roll23]+[roll24]


PHEW! Attack blue balls blown! GOOO!

EDIT: +4 to hit him once he's prone!
Tumble Check to avoid AoOs: Nat 20, for a 37
Current AC after charge: 15 (-2 for being Drunk, -2 for charging, not counting any buffs - not sure what was cast on Barrel!)
Hit Bonus: +16/+16/+9 (+8 Strength, +7 BaB, -2 flurry, +2 charge, +1 Amulet - his fists count as magic)
Damage: 2d8+2d12+18 = 1d8 (base) + 9 (8 Strength, 1 amulet) + 1d12 (flying kick) TIMES TWO (for Headlong Rush)
Pounce from Lion Totem Barb, Stagger from Drunken Master.


TRIP Melee Touch Attack 1: [36] (Critical), Trip Roll: [18]

Attack/Crit 1: [34] (+4 if target went prone after first attack)
Damage/Crit 1: 39 = [26]+[13]

TRIP Melee Touch Attack 2: [26], Trip Roll: [21]

Attack/Crit 2: [24] (+4 if target went prone after first attack)
Damage/Crit 2: 48 = [28]+[20]

TRIP Melee Touch Attack 3: [25], Trip Roll: [24]

Attack/Crit 3: [31] (THREAT!); [14] (+4 if target is prone!)
Damage/Crit 3: 38 =[25]+[13]/44 =[31]+[13]

[Starbin]

As Antos stood next to Harren, he heard the cry for help across the deck of the ship. Turning, he saw a horrendous, toad-like monster appear suddenly, intent on mischief. "Figures ... first acid rain, then teleportin' frogs. We're definitely gonna die. Guessin' I could try 'n help ... but prolly just make it worse ..." Antos fired off two arrows in rapid succession. One struck the wheel, barely missing Aileen, while the other sailed harmlessly over the toad's head. He shrugged his shoulders at the dirty look from the crewmember, looking closely at his bow. Frowning, he realized it still was wet from the initial attack, causing his fingers to slip.

"Damn my eyes fer a fool ... I know better'n ta try and fire a wet bow string! Lucky I didn't kill her."

Grumbling to himself, Antos waited ... for either Harren to 'port them over, or the Captain to order them to stay.

I'm guessing the 1 and 3 are misses ...

[pife]

On the Gibbet

Barrel is curled in a tight ball as he arcs across the water. An unseen force of some kind seems to be guiding him, as his trajectory alters slightly mid-flight. Barely avoiding the rigging of the ship, which splays almost haphazardly like a messy spider's web, he lands with a pronounced thud, the planks beneath him screaming their objection. Unfolding from his crouched position, Barrel stands erect, nearly seven feet of green-skinned and tatooed fury. The deck of the vessel is raked by a vicious chill wind, which has already coated several less fortunate sailors, or rather, their corpses, with rime near the starboard gunwales. A slight man with thinning hair and spectacles in an unassuming gray robe is nearest to the vest-clad orc, his eyes widening with shock as he staggers backwards and begins moving his hands in complicated patterns. At his belt hangs a 2 foot long object that appears to be a gnarled branch, though it seems to be leaking viscous black smoke out of both ends. The smoke dissipates mere inches from it's ends. Another crewman stands behind and to the right of the monk, his bare arms showing the initial signs of frostbite, and his face screwed up in both pain and nausea, though the blade in his hand seems steady enough. Across the deck, nearly a dozen foes can be seen, all told. Seven of these wear the ragged clothing of common deckhands, though only just over half are armed, the others rushing about to tighten this line, loosen that one, as they fight to bring the ship's bow back toward the punishing gale that still howls through the sails. Lurching slowly down the port-aft ladder stumbles a bipedal creature that once, might have been human. It's wretched, dessicated flesh is drawn tight across it's form, and mere rags protect it's doubtful modesty. It's eyes shine brightly with malevolence, and it's claws and teeth appear needle sharp. It's gaze is fixed upon Big Barrel.

Near the port bow stands another man, whose hands are held before him, having just completed the complex gestures necessary to summon the punishing rain of acid that even now washes over the side of the privateer's vessel. He is tall, yet extremely slender, and wears resplendent robes of deepest purple. His forearms are exposed, and shining silver bracers encircle them. His only other jewelry appears to be a black jawless skull pendant that hangs down onto his chest from a silver necklace. A slender belt that appears to be manufactured from the skin of a snake is hung with various pouches, and not one, but two slender wand-cases.

Big Barrel whips into motion, appearing to lean first this way, and then that, seeming to stagger his way up the ladder toward the purple clad caster. His face wrinkles in disgust, and he actually gags slightly as he leaps into an off balance somersault UP the stairs, coming to his feet at their head. It is only at this time that the veil of invisibility falls from yet another enormous toad-like behemoth that stands a quarter again taller than the looming Barrel. It's long claws extend to a distance of nearly ten feet, but the impossibly nimble half-orc performs a standing front aerial, landing on the balls of his feet before springing up once more, and flinging his feet over his head. One foot catches stabilizes him in a pose that defies all known laws of physics, while the other heel catches the back of the purple robed man's knee. Somehow, the overmatched wizard is able to avoid going to the ground at this assault, but he certainly staggers, his jaw dropping in the late realization that his reign of terror on the high seas was about to be curtailed. Quicker than thought, Big Barrel lashes out with a ham-sized fist, yanking the caster off balance once more, and this time hurling a crushing forearm to the chest that drops Canthus to the deck like a stone, choking for breath. Kneeling, Barrel fires one last jab, this time toward the Cyricists unprotected throat. With the sickening crunch of cartilage, the bright blue eyes of Canthus Darkfoot, Captain of the Flaming Gibbet, go immediately and forever dark. The Captain of the Flaming Gibbet is dead.

Borriken, the gray clad magic-user crouches down, whispers a few short syllables, and disappears from sight with a flash.

On both decks, the action continues.

[Vertharrad]

A growl escapes Ammaras mouth. Ye casters takin too long, ye'll be the death of the crew. To action! She races across the deck to the toad drawing her cutlass as she goes, the gentle swaying of the deck seeming to have no effect on her ability to move across it. When she comes to the toad she stabs her cutlass forward to wound it.

move action - move from F7 - F12 drawing weapon along the way
standard action - att[roll0] dmg[roll1]

Have at ye ye scurvy dog!

[Vertharrad]

att[roll0] dmg[roll1]

[Tempestfury]

Nerethera cursed underneath her breath at the arrival of such a creature on the ship, threatening to kill even more people on the crew. She scowled when one of the members declared that she was taking to long, and decided to prove her otherwise. With a gesture and incarnation, five missiles speed away from her to rocket into the toad-thing. Magic Missile was not powerful, but it had no energy to be affected by, and it could not miss. The only ability that could stop it was spell resistance, and Nerethera was confident in that she could by pass that with her spells.

Casting Magic Missile, dealing [5d4+19] Damage. Caster Check to bypass Spell-Resistance is 20, taking 10 via Arcane Mastery.

[Breitheamh]

While Harren prays, preparing himself and the others to fight, he suddenly hears Ammara's outburst as she recklessly charges toward the monster that was now attacking the ship.

"Wait!" he shouts after her. "Antos, don't go anywhere, we need to get to the other ship and help Barrel."

After completing his spell, he grabs the burly sailor's arm and zips through space, landing on the Flaming Gibbet right where the gray-robed mage had disappeared.

[Starbin]

Antos watched Ammaras rush away to attack the toad creature, abandoning their mission in favor of hasty action. Glancing towards the captain, the outdoorsman didn't see a signal indicating he wanted them to stay, so he waited with Harren, shaking his head.

"Don't worry, priest, I'm witcha ... even if ya don't live long enough t'regret it. Let's get movin' ... though you'll drop us in th'drink, morin likely ...". The last was said as a mutter as he two disappeared from sight.

[iTookUrNick]

As the enemy pops on the ship's deck, a foul stench envelopes evrithing and everyone around it. Molbeard has breathed, ingested and been inoculated with so many poisons and toxic substances that very little can throw his innards in disarray, but the same cannot be said about the two apes: they start throwing up, adding puke to the acid already covering the deck and their own fur.

However, beyond the unpleasantness, the stech seems vaguely... off. Though it would be impossible to say what that meant, once the idea that things are not the way they look flares in the Captain's head, everything comes into focus and the enormus beast loses most of its substance, turning into a thin shadow of itself.

"Gods above, it's an illusion! It's not real! You hear me, folks? NOT REAL!"

[Starbin]

Antos paused as he nocked another arrow, looking towards the Captain. "Wait, what? Ya gotta be kiddin' me ... of COURSE I done fell fer one of the oldest tricks in th'book. Call forth a demon that ain't now demon, but just a figment ... prolly so the INVISIBLE demon can bite my own arse!"

[Vertharrad]

Ammara looks over with quizical look that quickly turns to anger. "Not real? Dam illusions! Wait! why is your apes chokin up if it isn't real Cap'n?"

[iTookUrNick]

Ammara looks over with quizical look that quickly turns to anger. "Not real? Dam illusions! Wait! why is your apes chokin up if it isn't real Cap'n?"
"It's real if you believe in it, and they don't know any better. And even if you don't, its shadow is still a threat, albeit much less so. Damn illusionists."

[Vertharrad]

Facing the captain she sheathes her cutlass. Do you still want us to board the Flaming Gibbet?
If he says yes, she goes back to Harren and Antos. If he says no, she takes hold of the wheel and makes sure they stay on course.

[iTookUrNick]

Molbeard shoots a glance at the enemy vessel. "Please go. Barrel might still be in need of some help, and the prisoners in the water have to be saved sooner rather than later. We'll be coming to lend a hand as soon as we can".

[Vertharrad]

She shakes her head affirmatively. Aye Cap'n. She heads down to the deck where Harren and Antos are standing rejoining them to port over to the Flaming Gibbet.

[JanusJones]

On the Gibbet
It is only at this time that the veil of invisibility falls from yet another enormous toad-like behemoth that stands a quarter again taller than the looming Barrel. It's long claws extend to a distance of nearly ten feet ...

Barrel sways near the crumpled mage, a glazed look in his eye. Suddenly he coughs, spits, and wipes his mouth. He looks around, seeing the crewmen in their rags, the massive hulk nearby, the dessicated, shambling corpse. He heaves a breath and bellows:

"'I an' I ship with a true Cap'n. 'Dis ship, doan look like a man cyan even get a propah drink! Look at you - you in rags an' fear, servin' like slaves wit' foul creatures. You free men o' 'de sea - you wan' get 'dat freedom back, you FIGHT FOR IT!" The ship lurches, and the huge orc begins to topple, falling straight for the deck before a leg lashes out and he heaves upright again. His black eyes widen, and he stands bolt upright, hands at his sides.

"Seein' men treat dis' a'way, make a man ANGRY ..." as he speaks, froth drips from his mouth, spattering on his chest, and his eyes roll back in his head.

And then he's a blur of movement, flowing across the deck like a drunken top, whirling, staggering, lurching, falling, rolling ...


Free action to enter Whirling Frenzy for +4 Str, +2 AC, +2 to Ref saves, and one extra attack (with all others at a -2).
Staggering charge of up to 120 ft. for the Battle Toad.
Attempting to avoid all AoOs (will cut a path that avoids foes, since he can turn as much as he likes) with a Tumble Check, DC 15: [roll0] (counting the -2 from Sicken).


Current AC: 23, counting Charge penalty (-2), Sicken (-2), Whirling Frenzy (+2), Barkskin (+4), Wis (+2), and Shield of Faith (+3).
Bonus to hit: +15/+15/+15/+10 = +5 (20 Str), +2 (+4 Str from drinks), +2 (Belt of Magnificence), +2 (Frenzy), +7/+2 (BaB), +1 (Amulet), -2 (Sicken), +2 (Charge), -4 (flurry + frenzy).
Damage: 2d8+2d12+22 = 1d8 base, +11 (+10 Str, +1 amulet), +1d12 for Flying Kick, x2 for Headlong Rush.


Attack 1/Crit 1: [roll1]/[roll2]
Damage 1/Crit 1: [roll3]+[roll4]/[roll5]+[roll6]

Attack 2/Crit 2: [roll7]/[roll8]
Damage 2/Crit 2: [roll9]+[roll10]/[roll11]+[roll12]

Attack 3/Crit 3: [roll13]/[roll14]
Damage 3/Crit 3: [roll15]+[roll16]/[roll17]+[roll18]

Attack 4/Crit 4: [roll19]/[roll20]
Damage 4/Crit 4: [roll21]+[roll22]/[roll23]+[roll24]

[Vertharrad]

Ammara hears the sounds from the rest of the crew as she's waiting for Harren to finish his spell. The anticipation and expectation from having a missed chance has caused her awareness and senses to elevate to a fine point. Harren finishes and touches both her and Antos, the disorientation is momentary and then there they are facing another Toad monster on the enemies deck. She draws her cutlass while observing her prey, how he moves and reacts. She moves her blade in a defensive manner as her own movements trick the creature into thinking she's attacking from the left. She leads it on and then hits it with the real attack from center using her observations to place the weapon where it hurts more.
free action - corsairs feint bluff[roll0] use after [roll1] rounds
part of full round action - 1st +1 keen adamantine cutlass(combat expertise -2 att +2 ac) att[roll2] dmg[roll3] / confirm att[roll4] dmg[roll5]
If feint successful enemy is denied dex SA[roll6]
AC 25/19/19 (+4 Dex, +6 armor, +2 CE, +2 deflection, +2 dodge, -1 trait)

[Starbin]

Antos blinked his eyes and found himself on the deck of the other ship. Eager for the fight as ever, Ammara immediately tore into the giant toad creature. "Anutha one? How many of them frogs is there?" Shaking his head, he moved slightly away from the teleporting mage with a nod of thanks and risked a quick peek over the side to where the prisoners were being lowered into the water. His bow drawn, he didn't want to get caught up in battle when they were hear to save lives.

I'm not entirely certain of our actions - pife, did you say we only get a move action? If so, moving to the side and checking on the prisoners will be Antos' actions. If he has a full round, then he'll shoot at the toad, too.

[roll0], [roll1]

[Vertharrad]

2nd +1 keen adamantine cutlass att[roll0] dmg[roll1] / confirm att[roll2] dmg[roll3]
If feint successful enemy is denied dex SA[roll4]

[pife]

The sails flutter impotently on the Flaming Gibbet, as the freezing gale finally abates. Everyone aboard lurches forward a bit as the vessel begins to slow, and there is a distinct rocking as the wind had pushed the bow of the ship out of line with the swells. A chill, salty spray rises up over the deck every few seconds as angry waves slap the hull, punishing her for coming out of line. The action continues aboard the vessel, as a green-skinned half-orc stands facing a nightmare of repulsive flesh. Taking advantage of a particularly rough jolt, Barrel nearly falls, but manages to go to one knee before planting his hands on the deck and springing back to his feet. He is immediately beset by a vicious bite to his right shoulder, and Barrel grunts in pain, but uses the momentum of the strike to whirl back and to the side before unleashing a barrage of blows from backhand, knee, elbow and wheel-kick. The first blow gets inside the guard of the mighty Hezrou who grunts as something in it's meaty right arm snaps, causing him to recoil and bring his left arm to bear, slapping Barrel's knee back down, but leaving himself vulnerable to a leaping elbow to it's toothy maw. The demon's head is rocked backward, drawing a roar of frustration, pain and rage at the comparatively little, but lightning-quick monk. The final attack slides off of the beasts thick, armored hide without doing damage, but it's motions are becoming more jerky, more frantic.

The whirling vortex that is Whisper reverses course from where it had just deposited several crewmen with a splash off of the stern, and catches up the last remaining crewman on deck. The bell that the man was ringing sounds wildly as it is buffeted, and the stricken man is caught up in the intense winds. His screams of terror can be heard all the way to the privateers vessel, until he, too, is ejected from the miniature cyclone. Whisper then returns to the deck of the gibbet, and transforms from a towering whirlwind back into an amorphous, vaguely manshaped entity of swirling air with two glowing eyes reminiscent of many children's nightmares. It lashes out with an airy appendage, given supernatural strength and lands a solid blow to the demons back. At the same time, three white hot rays of sizzling fire leap down from the crows nest, two of which harmlessly scorch the deck, leaving smoldering timbers. The third catches Barrel in the left leg, leaving angry raised skin and the smell of burning flesh. With the smell of sulfur and brimstone and a flash of light followed by a loud cracking sound, a six foot scaled horror with pointed ears and carrying a wicked saw-toothed blade appears on the ladderwell before leaping forward and thrusting the weapon at the heavily engaged Barrel. The black metal bites deeply into Barrel's side, drawing a spray of blood and leaving a black, festering wound that smells of rot. The bearded beast cackles with glee!

With a golden flash, three crewman appear on the foredeck opposite the Hezrou to support the beleaguered Barrel. Antos turns to look over the side of the ship just in time to see the top of the rusted metal gibbet slide into the water. Beyond a dim pale spot below, he cannot see what the cage contains, nor the condition that it is in. He turns back, draws, and looses an arrow, which sinks deep into the fleshy flank of the critically injured demon, eliciting yet another anguished bellow of pain, this one accompanied by the coughing up of a greenish-brown ichor which does nothing to help the repulsive smell the crew are having to endure. His hands are a blur as he re-nocks the next arrow, and sends it plunging after the first, sinking itself to the fletching in the creature's bloody side. First Mate Ammara assesses the situation in an instant, and feints to the left before whirling to the right. The creature takes a step to counter, and it's leg receives a deep gash for it's trouble. Ammara looks to be pressing her advantage, thrusting to the right again before reversing her grip and striking the Hezrou's other knee squarely, but this blow cannot cut into the beast and is stopped. Greenish blood fairly pours from the beast, and it's breath comes in rasping gasps. Head whirling to try to keep track of all of it's assailants and staggering, the beast's piggish eyes narrow cruelly and it claps it's huge 'hands' together while uttering a disgusting and disconcerting set of syllables in the wretched language of the Infernal before throwing it's arms wide with a roar. With a whooshing burst, a cold, cloying fog of greenish-black erupts in a 20' circle around it, which drains all those around it, especially if they are good of heart and nature. The rancid power of the Abyss leeches vitality from each of it's assailants.


The Hezrou- Barrel did 90 points with his two strikes (seriously?). Antos adds 10 with his bow, Ammara adds 17, and Whisper does 14, for a total of 131 points of damage.

Barrel TAKES 18 from the AoO attack, Borriken's Scorching Ray adds 19 more, and the Bearded Devil's Glaive adds 18. Further, Barrel will continue to take 2 points of damage per round until this wound is tended to. So, a total of 55 points of damage from three directions to Barrel.

The Unholy Blight will do [roll0] to all GOOD aligned characters and sicken them for [roll1] rounds. If you made your Will Save, take 1/2 and you are not sickened. NEUTRAL aligned characters who fail their save take only half damage and are not sickened, and Neutral characters who make their save take 1/4 damage and not sickened).

Let me know if I missed anything. Otherwise, go ahead and announce your Round 5 Actions in the OOC thread please.

[pife]

Round 5

Barrel dances away from the beleaguered Hezrou, spinning to face his rear. He appears to slip, falls to the deck and barrel-rolls (no pun intended) UNDER the vicious halberd that the Bearded Devil is attempting to strike him with. He lashes out with his leg as he nears the hellish creature, but his foe leaps over the leg with a grin. However, this gave Barrel just enough time to kip up to a crouching position, and from there unleash an elbow to the beast's knee, which incurs a howl of pain. He follows that with a headbutt to the gut, and gathers his legs beneath himself propelling a flying uppercut to the his opponents jaw, just to the right of the beard. The halberd falls with a resounding clang, to the deck from suddenly slack hands, and the Bearded Devil's feet leave the deck as it is propelled down the ladderwell to land 15 feet away, unmoving. It fades from sight.

Those near the Hezrou can see the amorphous swirling whisper who unleashes a flurry of attacks on it's Abyss-toughened skin, all to no avail. All, that is, save one. His final claw attack opens a small but bloody gash on the massive creature's shoulder. At the same time, a barely perceptible series of arcane mutterings comes from the mage in gray atop the crow's nest. Whisper, Barrel, Ammara Antos and Harren all feel some form of fell magic fall upon them, but all are able to shake it off except for Ammara, who now feels that she is going in slow motion.
You have been subjected to a Slow spell. You can only take a single move action or standard action, your speed is 1/2 normal, and you take a penalty of -1 to all attack rolls, Reflex saves and Armor Class. YOu have two main options, either to move OR to attack. I'm going to assume that you will attack, and skip the movement. Please correct me if I'm mistaken.

Harren's hands fly as he unleashes a spell that was prepared to go off on the instant, and all of the privateers (and Whisper) feel a warm tingle all across your skin as it takes effect. Harren, Antos, Barrel, Ammara and Whisper receive +1 to Attacks, Damage, Saves and Skill checks, . Harren then begins to float, and then he begins to FLY. Perhaps he thought that the Hezrou was distracted, or perhaps he didn't care, but as he rises up while drawing a cunningly built hand-crossbow, eyes on the crow's nest, the Hezrou lashes out with a claw.
[roll0] Damage [roll1]

Nerathera calmly recites the words of power that send yet another Fireball hurtling toward the Flaming Gibbet, though several syllables seem to have changed. The bead that her incantation produces flies true, before passing into a faintly shimmering globe that surrounds the mage in gray. An ear-piercing explosion rocks the ship, but the area around the mage seems to be pristine. Splinters still fly from the mast ten feet below the crow's nest, however, and with a creaking groan, the heavy timber snaps, bringing the crow's nest plummeting toward the deck. It is caught by multiple lines of rigging that were attached to the mast, and swings impotently about 12 feet from the deck. The mage in gray begins to fall with it, arms flailing, but he barks a single word, and his descent is arrested, bringing him slowly down to the deck without harm, where he lands in a crouch, eyes wide as he sees the number and ferocity of his opponents on the deck.

Antos draws his blade, and swings at the upstretched arm as it reaches for Harren, but his blade is turned away by the unnaturally tough skin of the demon. It does, however, draw the Hezrou's attention away from Ammara. Though she is moving painfully slowly, the distracted demon doesn't even attempt to avoid the blade that sinks deep into it's flesh, carving through muscle, tendon and bone, and showering Ammara in gore and viscous ichor. The beast falls silent, and looks down at Ammara as it's knees begin to sag. It's body has disappeared from sight before it even hits the ground.

Alaerdorix takes this opportunity to swoop down and blast the wizard with dragonfire. [roll2] Borriken's reflex save [roll3] before weaving back out of the rigging. The wizard screams in pain, and wisps of smoke rise from his body and clothing.

Finally, a creature drags itself up onto the deck on the starboard side, water streaming off of it's gray and waterlogged skin. It's long hair seems to seep water, far more than would normally be held in it's scraggly locks. It fixes the privateers with dead grey eyes and begins to advance.

Back on your ship, Aileen staggers to her feet, still coated in her own vomit, and weakly says, I'll take her, Captain. The massive apes Chip and Munk stop rolling on the ground in agony, and begin to stand as well. Moldbeard releases the wheel into Aileen's care, and looks around the deck before casting a spell. With a flash of blue light, the deck is now graced with three stunning unicorns of pure white. The crewmen murmur in awe as these majestic creatures cautiously step to them, lowering their horns and tapping the nervous seamen whose skin and movement show the effects of the acid attack. A ragged cheer goes up from the men, and some drop what they were doing (standing by the ballista or catapult, working the rigging, etc), to rush to the creatures side. Huzzah for the Cap'n!!! Huzzah!

The Hezrou and the Bearded Devil have been defeated. Borriken is slightly scorched and is standing on the deck at K6. Barrel is at L9, Whisper at J8, Harren is about 30 feet in the air above.. J8, I'd assume but you can correct me on that. Ammara is at I9, Antos at I 11. Barrel, your halberd wound causes you two more points of damage. The new creature has crawled up a hanging rope at I2.

[Breitheamh]

Harren covers his face for a moment, as the mast explodes, sending splinters in all directions. When he opens his eyes again, he is caught off guard by the sight of a sopping, bloated body crawling its way onto the deck of the Gibbet.

He offers a silent prayer to Tymora, My Lady, is this some kind of test? Very well, may I bring glory to you through the favor you give me.

Then he draws his Luck Blade and holds his right arm high, letting the sun glint off the bent coin tethered to his wrist. "Behold, foul abomination! Behold the power and favor of Tymora, Lady of Luck! Feel her wrath upon the evils of this world and shudder!"

Move Action to draw my rapier
Standard Action to Turn Undead (rolls in OOC)

[pife]

Beginning of Round 6
Range from your vessel to the Flaming Gibbet: 450'

Borriken's eyes widen as he sees the massive half-orc hurtling toward him. His hands twitch toward the still-smoking gnarled rod at his side, and he quickly looks both left and right, trying, in that moment, to find an escape. In the end, even four layers of magical protection are not enough to save him. Barrel staggers through the faintly shimmering globe of light-motes, and launches himself feet first toward the terrified wizard. The faintly shimmering shield-shaped manifestation directly in front of Borriken is completely ignored. Even the fact that his skin was magically rock-hard and the figment causing him to appear to be in a slightly different location were of no use. While in the air, Barrel begins to spin, screw-like. The heel of his right foot slams into Borriken's head, slamming it to the side and loosening his jaw, while the instep of his left foot follows, breaking the mage's arm and most of the ribs on his right side. Barrel lands face down, on his hands and toes (the push-up position), and ***** his for a sweep, but there is no need. Borriken's last breath is forced out of him by the impact with the deck, his eyes already dark and vacant, a thin trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

A wet gurgling roar from the stern of the ship is the only sound competing with the crashing of the waves against the deck and the creaking of the ships timbers. But for the undead horror, you are alone on this vessel.

Harren exhorts Tymora to blast the abomination into oblivion, or at least send it scurrying back to the watery grave that it escaped. "Behold, foul abomination! Behold the power and favor of Tymora, Lady of Luck! Feel her wrath upon the evils of this world and shudder!"


The gray, bloated lips of this long-dead sailor pull back into a rictus smile, water pouring from it's mouth, black eyes blazing spitefully as it fixes it's gaze on the nearest foe, Big Barrel, dismissing the cleric entirely.

I know that some of you were waiting to find out if Barrel was going to need any help with the mage. Nope, doesn't seem so. His first two attacks landed for 107 damage. Borriken was 12th level, but he didn't have anywhere near that many. (closer to 60 really). He was going to miss with the second pair of attacks but.. them's the breaks, lol. Everyone who is so inclined can engage the undead critter at the stern. Because there was such a long delay, please remind everyone in the OOC thread what your character (familiar/Animal Companion) are doing. Harren, I posted the results of your Turn Undead check out of initiative order intentionally. Just a reminder. Not all battles will be at such range. Some of your opponents will try to close with you for boarding actions, others will force you to catch and board them.

The beasty will be the next-to last to go in the round, so everyone can take an action. Because Ammara has become an NPC, she will go last for the remainder of this fight. We will need to decide what to do about her character going forward in the OOC thread. Technically, by the way, Ammara's last act as a PC was to forgo her attack (which killed the Hezrou) for movement instead. Since the player was leaving us, I overruled that decision, allowing Ammara to slay the demon. It felt like the appropriate action, hope nobody minds.

[Starbin]

Seeing Barrel paste the mage, Antos nodded to himself and charged across at the shambling mound of cold, dead flesh. Best to do as much damage to the thing as he could ... at least until Barrel and Ammara could kill it. If nothing else, perhaps he could provide a distraction. Chances are, he probably wouldn't even be a hiccup in this thing's way, as it kill him and ate his spleen ... or worse, made him one of its minions. Either way, he was a dead man walking, even if he refused to fully acknowledge it yet.

Charge w/two-weapon pounce.
1d20+15, [roll1]
[roll2], [roll3]

[pife]

End of Round 6

There is a pregnant pause after the gray-clad mage falls lifeless to the deck. Another swell buffets the ship, causing all aboard to lurch to starboard, and the chilly spray drizzles down, coating everyone with a light coat of seawater. The first to react, and perhaps rightly so, is Whisper. The magically empowered air-elemental streaks toward the undead abomination, howling like a midnight gale. With a cruel backhand, the waterlogged enemy connects with Whisper, but the magical strength afforded the elemental keep its momentum going, slamming into it, shoving it back all the way to the gunwale, where the creature crumples into a ball. Both Harren and Antos are close behind, Antos thundering across the deck, and Harren skimming swiftly above it. Antos' shining blades cut deeply into the gray-green flesh, spraying ribbons of black and green ichor that smells of rotten fish, while Harren also draws a roar of pain from the momentarily defenseless foe. Neither of the pair are able to breathe, the air near the undead creature thick and impossible to derive oxygen from. Luckily for Harren, his discomfort is only momentary. When he flies away, the sweet, cool air once more becomes available to him. Not so for Antos, whose lips mouth is tightly shut, holding his breath.

A dripping hand grasps the gunwale and begins to lever the creature back to it's feet, when a golden flash swoops down through the hanging lines and limp sails. Alaerdorix' wings snap taut as he flings them out to arrest his dive, skimming the gunwale and tearing a strip of flesh from the unholy creations arm before flapping furiously again for altitude as he comes around. Screaming in fury, the Drowned rises, right into the waiting jaws of Whisper, whose master's magical prowess has granted him the jaw-strength and tenacity of the storied moray eel. Blood, or ichor, streams down it's body in several locations, but the fight has not yet gone out of it. Wrenching its body fully upright, it manages to get one arm into position to strike, and strike it does. A crushing blow nearly does for the valiant elemental, but it clings both to life, and to the rancid, sodden corpse that opposes you.

Meanwhile, on your vessel, the range to the Flaming Gibbet has closed to 350'. Aboard it, three impossibly graceful unicorns step daintily around the deck, lowering their fluted horns to touch the hurts of your crewmen, slowly patching them back up. Jasfer is barking orders to several men, keeping most working the lines and sails of your ship, while calling others to aid, depending on their need. Several sad glances are cast toward the acid-ravaged bodies of Taloqua and Markin, but there is nothing to be done for them at this point.

Ammara rushes for the helm, putting it hard over, and trying to bring the Gibbet in line with the swells, and pointing her bow back toward your ship.

Beginning of Round 7- Range, 350' and closing

[Starbin]

Antos settled into a comfortable stance, trying to hold his breath. The deck was slippery, but he did his best to keep his footing, moving to attack quickly against the beast in front of him.

[roll0]; [roll1]
If necessary / allowed: [roll2], [roll3]
[roll4], [roll5]
[roll6], [roll7]
[roll8], [roll9]

Wow ... on six d20's I got a 15, 12, 6, 4, 4, 2 ... so should I be happy my average seems to be moving up to 7? Yeesh!

[pife]

The Flaming Gibbet's deck heaves in the heavy waves, icy cold water pouring over the port gunwale as the waves pound it back in the direction of your ship. Whisper rises to a position almost directly above the furious undead creature, and turns into a whirlwind (pun intended) of motion and blood. It's first attack, a bite is rebuffed as the creature wildly swings it's dripping arm in the elemental's direction. Undeterred, the elemental uses both of it's amorphous fists to pound into the creature's chest, with a crunch that indicates shattered bones. As the creature reels back, snarling, it turns it's fists, exposing wicked claws, which it then sinks deep into the abdomen of the creature, using it's long reach to avoid any counterattack. Blackish ichor oozes, and then it flies as Whisper rips it's claws laterally, opening the creature's gut. Staggered, it roars in impotent frustration, glaring at it's nearly transparent foe. Harren takes advantage of it's distraction, darting in to gash the overwhelmed zombie with a careful slash to the right leg. Immediately on his heels comes Antos, whose blades fly in a complicated array of feints and attacks. The Drowned is flailing it's arms wildly, frustrating three of Antos' routines, but not the fourth, which cuts deep into the forearm, nearly severing it. The Drowned raises it's hands together, high over it's head, preparing to bring them down in a crushing blow against what it believes to be the most vulnerable of it's assailants, Harren, but just as the giant fists begin to descend, a golden blur dives from through lines and limp sails to sink it's fangs into the back of the abomination's neck. You hear a loud snapping sound, and it's head wobbles before tipping to the side and staying there. Quicker than thought, the little dragon is past and beating his wings to gain altitude again, but the Drowned is going in the opposite direction. Bonelessly, and lifelessly (pun NOT intended this time), it leans backward, further, and falls off of the gunwale at the ships stern. It hits the waves without motion, and is immediately slammed against the hull by a cruel wave. It comes to rest face-down in the water, arms and legs bobbing at the whim of the waves, the entire back of it's neck ripped out, exposing necrotic flesh surrounding two distinctly separate pieces of it's spine.

Something dark and wet drops to the deck with a squishing thud. Several inches of rubbery blackened flesh, and an ivory white bone covered in viscous black blood. THAT, remarks Alaerdorix from the yardarm he has alighted on, tastes disgusting. His tongue, which seems entirely too long, even for a reptile, slithers out of his mouth and vigorously rubs the canvas of the wet sail. Ugh. thath therble, he complains.

But for the tossing of the ship, there is no more motion aboard the Flaming Gibbet that you yourselves cannot account for. This battle is won!

[Tempestfury]

Nerethera breathed a sigh of relief when the turmoil and fighting up on the deck of the enemy ship fell quite, obvious that they had manage to achieve victory. That being said, the Warmage wasn’t happy, her spell had be countered, and she hadn’t been unable to do the same, leading to the lose of two of their crew. Still... this had been her first ship-to-ship battle, and the warmage was certain she had picked up a new trick or two to use as well. She did have a spell that could give her vision of another ship, like they Gibbet did, so perhaps she might be able to help more in the future.

As it was, Nerethera turned to the helm where there Captain and summoner was, saying. “Cap, I'm gonna take a few over to get the ship under control, as well as one of those pompous corn's of yours to heal the boarding crew.” The warmage also having another reason to get over to the other ship as well, as she wanted to see how her companion, Alaerdorix, was. Wanting to know that he was unharmed, or get him healed quickly.

[iTookUrNick]

"Good thinking, Lady Nerethera. The "boarding" party seems to have handled itself quite well over there, but I'm sure they could use some patching up. And for the love of all the good gods, have the prisoners taken out of those gibbets!"

[Starbin]

Seeing the undead creature return to its previous state, Antos muttered to himself, "Well, glad it's dead ... but it'll probably come back again, just returning over and over." At the order to regroup the prisoners, however, he sheathed his weapons and jumped over the side, allowing his ring to support his weight on the water.

Ring of water walking, gonna try and rescue the prisoners ... figure Barrel or someone else can start pulling from above (maybe the dragon can grab the chains and help)

[pife]

I am going to roll a d2 to decide which side you jumped over. (It's relevant). Then I will edit in what you find there.

[roll0]



Antos dives into the water, and can dimly see the darkened cage hanging at the bottom of the rusty chain. As you swim nearer, you see that the cage door is open, swinging lazily from side to side as the current buffets it. The cage is empty. The water is frigid and rough, with rolling whitecaps on the surface. Antos turns underwater, looking under the Flaming Gibbet toward the other dangling gibbet, but the distance is too great, the water too murky to see anything but a dark shadow.

[Tempestfury]

Nerethera nodded at this, and stepped towards one of the unicorns, calling out as she did so. “Okay, you heard the Cap, some of you get over here to take control of that ship, and get the prisoners out of the water.” The warmage placed a hand carefully on the unicorn’s flank, knowing that she would have to be touching it to teleport it over, but also knowing that unicorns could be temperamental... even if summoned.

[Starbin]

Breaching the surface of the water, Antos stood on the waves, incredibly enough. "Nuthin' here ... prolly just the cage that walkin' dead came outta. Unless, o' course, it was filled with invisible sharks ... really small piranha ..." Moving quickly, he sprinted around the waves, moving to get to the other side of the ship.

[iTookUrNick]

Moldbeard suppress a sigh as his crew on the ship shrinks even further. "Steady as she goes." instead orders to those who remain "Get ready for final approaching maneuvers."

In the meanwhile, the battered Whisper hovers over the deck of the captured ship. It might be hard for others to tell, but a look of distaste is crossing his insubstantial face as he watches others get in the water to open the cages. He might do it if asked (in Auran), but he'd rather avoid getting wet himself if at all possible. He has the earth of the storm, but water is not his element, after all.

[pife]

The unicorn's flank shudders as Nerethera lays her hand carefully upon it, and nickers softly, turning it's head to gaze at her with one impossibly beautiful brown eye. It's coat is wondrously smooth, and completely free of blemish or imperfection. The finest weavers could not provide a coat as silky as this, and the warmth that radiates from its body envelops the mage, cocooning her in a sense of well-being and safety.

Prepare to come alongside, aye! Crewmen now healed of their every hurt and malady have jumped into action, preparing the ship to come alongside the reeling Gibbet as Barrel and Ammara attempt to bring her head into the wind and stabilize her.

Antos swims quickly around the ship. As he nears the second gibbet, you see what appears to be a woman, likely human, floating limply in the rusted metal cage, her left side pinned between two bars as though she had tried to squeeze between them. Her long hair swirls in ghostly patterns as the waves above churn the water.

Alaerdorix soars back to your vessel, landing smoothly on the gunwale. Nera! Nera!! Did you see me?! I killed the zombie-man! Did you see me!? It tasted awful, really, really awful. Oo I thtill ha' aee on mah thonggg? The little dragon snakes his long tongue out of his mouth as he finishes speaking. Then he starts preening, and strutting up and down the gunwale like a cat who caught his first mouse, eliciting chuckles from some of the nearby crewmen.

Your ship will be able to come alongside the Flaming Gibbet very soon. Most of the Gibbet's crewmen that had been tossed off the ship by either the freezing vortex or by Whisper's whirlwind have disappeared from sight, with only one bobbing desperately several hundred yards away.

[Starbin]

Antos snarled as he saw the woman floating in the cage. Whistling loudly, he waved his hands, shouting "Here now, ya big lizard, stop flappin' yer gums and help raise the cage!"

18 Str, so Antos should be able to pull the cage up and walk on the water (per his ring).

[pife]

Antos struggles mightily, but is finally able to wrestle several hundred pounds of cage, chain and woman to the frigid surface of the water. Barrel begins cranking the small capstan intended for this purpose, and by the time your vessel pulls alongside the starboard side, they have hauled the cage up onto the deck. There, the young woman lies, blue lipped and motionless on the floor of the cage, which remains locked, seawater running from her body .

[Breitheamh]

Harren surveys the aftermath from about fifty feet up, his demeanor unusually sullen. He has always felt comfortable in a fight, but this battle was something more than he had ever experienced before. He had felt unprepared for the dangers, and his faith was shaken slightly upon the undead beast's resistance to the power his lady had given him.

As Antos hauls the cage out of the water, he shakes himself out of his stupor and flies down, alighting gracefully near the little group surrounding the woman.

"Let me through," he says, urgently squeezing past Antos and Barrel to check the woman for life. My Lady, may you grant me this lucky favor, and keep this woman alive. Let not an innocent perish for the violence this day, he pleads in silent prayer.

[iTookUrNick]

When asked, Moldbeard replies to Jasfer: "Prepare her for sailing under minimal crew, but prioritize whatever needs to be done either way".

[pife]

Ammara takes charge of the general crewmen on the Gibbet with a stout Aye Captain! Line are thrown and tied off, bringing the ships together. Planks are laid across the gunwales for easy traversing. Ammara barks orders to the crewmen, while Harren works feverishly on the young lady. He listens to her heart, and presses on her stomach, chafing her nose and throat vigorously. Suddenly, the girl convulsed, and began to cough, choking up a copious amount of seawater, along with whatever she had most recently eaten. Gasping, she rolled over onto her belly and cried out, tried to push herself up, and then collapsed, unconscious, but breathing.

Captain, , Ammara approaches, saluting as she does so. We've left the below-decks for your commands, but the vessel seems seaworthy enough to take back to port as a prize ship. On your orders, I can sail her back with a crew of.. she pauses to consider.. three. I'd like to have Big Barrel, if you can spare him, both for his sailing skills as well as his combat skills, in case we are caught and boarded short-handed.

[iTookUrNick]

"Thank you, Lady Ammara, and good job. This is quite the prize for our first engagement, isn't it? You have permission to select the crew members that will accompany you back to our home port as you see fit, including one officer. Both ships will be a little shorthanded, but I believe the reward is worth the risk.
Make good time, and I hope to see you quite soon. Also," he adds, dropping his voice "I will need you to bring back those who did not make it today."

To Harren: "Master Roth, what's the status of the rescued captives? We could use an extra hand or two on board, as long as they can send on their feet and know what they're doing. Otherwise I want them shipped back home."

[Breitheamh]

Harren continues his prayer into one of thankfulness as he pulls out his wand and taps it on the woman's sternum, near her lungs. He sends a pulse of magical energy into the unconscious woman through the wand, healing her into consciousness.

Then he turns to Moldbeard and shouts, "Only one rescued, captain. I can heal her injuries and physical pain, but it may be some time yet before she is truly ready for duty aboard the ship."

Using a charge from my CLW wand (I should have gotten ones of lesser vigor instead, but 20/20 hindsight and all that) [roll0]
If the first doesn't bring her into consciousness I'll use another, and so on, until she is conscious [roll1] (if needed)

[iTookUrNick]

"Just the one? I was under the impression that this was a slaver ship, after all. Perhaps there will be more below deck. Speaking of which, I'd like a couple volunteers to accompany me down the hold. I expect this to be quick and trouble-free, but it is better to be safe than sorry. Say, Master Antos and Master Roth... and... Lady Nethera perhaps?" says, as he casts detect magic on himself.

[Tempestfury]

Nerethera didn’t really react that much when she placed her hand on the unicorn’s side. Feeling the soft texture of its coat, and feeling its warmth wrap itself around the mage somewhat, making her feel safe. However, she did reply to the unicorn turning its head to her and nickering softly, with a simple. “Hey.” The warmage having nothing else to say as some of the sailors that weren’t especially needed came over to her, placing their hands on her shoulders so she could warp them over.

As Nerethera began casting the spell, Alaerdorix came soaring back over, bragging about his kill. Something that made the female mage roll her eyes at, though she was smiling slightly, grateful that her companion was safe before finishing the spell and teleporting them over to the ship. Once there, she didn’t just stand around however. She might not have been experienced in ship-to-ship magical combat, but she did know how to help people when it came to sailing a ship, so she helped out the best she could. Nerethera wasn’t that strong or acrobatic, but she had wasn’t exactly weak either, so she could help.

When the ships had pulled together, Nerethera was still helping out with the sailing, but wasn’t engrossed in her task that she couldn’t hear the conversations that was happening around her. In particularly, she could easily overhear Moldbeard’s words, and when he asked for her to come with him below decks, she smirked and walked over, saying. “Sounds good.” Nerethera not mentioned that she hoped there was a threat or something... something she could blast to pieces, as she really wanted to stop feeling so inadequate.

[Starbin]

OOC - presuming we are all together to hear the Captain's request ...

Antos nodded to the Captain, sighing mournfully. "Aye ... I'm sure there's nuthin' down there ... ship full of wizards, demons 'n undead ... ain't no chance sumtin worse is down below." Hands on his weapons, Antos took the lead. No time like the present ...

Ready to check down below, with weapons at the ready

[pife]

Below decks, the smell of sickness is evident. The crew quarters are deserted, a sea of hammocks swinging gently to the rhythm of the waves. The crew mess is a different story though. A pair of halflings, one male, and one female, are chained to the deck, with only enough slack to traverse the galley. They are hiding (badly) when you arrive, but there are only so many places to go with a clanking alarm attached to your leg. One thing you notice about their restraints. There is no lock, and there is no key. These were sealed onto them by fire, and some time ago, it would seem.

The storage compartments are full to bursting with food and water, pretty standard fare, nothing too fancy, but a lot of it.

One deck lower, you have to overcome a simple triple bolted door, but since the bolts are on your side, this is a simple matter. When you open the door, a miasma of fetid air rushes out at you. The smell of sickness definitely comes from here. Within, you find nearly fifty (47) people of all races chained in rows. Six are dead where they sit, and have been for a couple of days it seems. Five of them seem to have succumbed to sickness, but one of them has obviously been beaten to death. All were left to fester. As you enter, the sounds of clanking chains overcomes everything for a moment, as over thirty shivering bodies pull themselves closer to you arms outstretched, and crying out for help. The call you hear most often.. Water! Water, please!
Huge barrels of water rest just out of their reach.

The officers quarters and captains quarters are in the sterncastle, and the door to that area is locked.

[iTookUrNick]

Moldbeard spends a few words to comfort the two chained halflings, reassuring them that their condition is about to improve. However, he does not stop, continuing down to the hold. He finds no words there, as stench and the pleas of those imprisoned therein threaten to overwhelm him. He signals the others to keep moving. To Harren: "Master Roth, it looks that your work might not be over yet today. Take away the dead, see to the others, get them water. Get help first, you can't do it alone. I'll come and lend a hand myself as soon as we are done with our inspection. Do not unchain any of them unless you have my say so."

As they come to the locked door: "Uhm, do you reckon we can have this opened by anyone on board? Or maybe the key was on one of the officers. We should search their bodies for anything of value as well."

[Tempestfury]

When they found the first of the captives, Nerethera scowled at the site, especially with how the manacles had been fused to their flesh, instead of simply placing them around their legs. That being said, the warmage didn't stop, and moved with the captian deeper into the ship, where they found a hold full of slaves, all bound standing up, some even dead. This sight, made growl, clenching her hands hard as white-hot rage overcame her, the urge to lash out and destroy the ship building.

She didn't however, managing to restrain herself, and simply growled out. "I'll help Master Roth." Nerethera stepping towards the barrels as she spoke, hoping that Master Roth would take the hint and move with her to get the barrels of water to these poor unfortunate souls as quickly as possible. Then they could move the dead.

[Starbin]

Upon finding the prisoners, Antos gazed at the two halflings, wondering why they were allowed to roam up here, but the others were locked away below. Prolly morphed demons waitin' t'rip our souls free ... Shaking his head, he followed the Captain, letting the others see to the prisoners. At the doors to the officer quarters, he nodded. "Be back soon, boss ... unless sometin' grabs my leg and hauls be inta th'shadows and ets me. So we'll see ..."

Run upstairs and search around for keys, then return. Figure we can always bash the door down if necessary.

[Breitheamh]

By the time they reach the room full of would-be slaves, Harren is barely holding himself together. Responding to Moldbeard's orders, he can only manage a small, "Aye, Captain."

He is not a strong man, and he struggles mightily to pull one of the water barrels closer to the prisoners. When that task is finished, he immediately tends to the corpses, attempting to break the chains that hold them and drag them outside the room. As he does so, he mutters prayers to Tymora for their souls to rest in peace. Finally, when the room is clear of the bodies, he begins tending to the health of the surviving prisoners, diagnosing and aiding as quickly as possible.

Strength check to break chains [roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
Or sunder attempt on chains [roll]1d20+15[roll] damage [roll6]
[roll]1d20+15[roll] damage [roll7]
[roll]1d20+15[roll] damage [roll8]
[roll]1d20+15[roll] damage [roll9]
[roll]1d20+15[roll] damage [roll10]
[roll]1d20+15[roll] damage [roll11]

Heal checks (do you want me to roll 41 of these, or just take one for all, or roll 4 and take on for each 10, or something like that).
[roll12]
[roll13]
[roll14]
[roll15]
[roll16]
[roll17]
[roll18]
[roll19]
[roll20]
[roll21]
[roll22]
[roll23]
[roll24]
[roll25]
[roll26]
[roll27]
[roll28]
[roll29]
[roll30]
[roll31]
[roll32]
[roll33]
[roll34]
[roll35]
[roll36]
[roll37]
[roll38]
[roll39]
[roll40]
[roll41]
[roll42]
[roll43]
[roll44]
[roll45]
[roll46]
[roll47]
[roll48]
[roll49]
[roll50]
[roll51]
[roll52]

[pife]

Big Barrel comes swaying down the ladderwell, and his already dark face turns darker still as he views the horror within the bowels of the slave ship. Taking a long pull from his hand-cask, he growls as he wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. None shudda be cast down in chains for to be anudda mans property. Move asigh dere, Masta' Harren, dem fingas best be served tendin' da sick. He holds up a shiny key. Dis was in da robes o'dat firs' one I kill. Mebbe dis' open dem chains, Cap'n? . He then bends down and with a grunt, lifts the heavy water barrel, sloshing a bit over the sides, and moving it closer to where it is needed.

Both Markin and Taloqua were handy at opening locks, but that doesn't help you much. After doing your best to determine that no traps lay in store, Jasfer, Philodoxus and Ellor use sledges to pound the doors until they burst open.

Harren begins the arduous task of helping these sick and somewhat emaciated people. Much of their malady can be attributed to lack of sustenance, and living in their own filth has not helped. The smell is horrendous. After guzzling water from the ladle in the water barrel, the first thing most of the freed men and women want to do is to go up on deck and breath fresh air.

A stem-to-stern search of the ship reveals the following;

Two more crewmen, one laid up in a small infirmary with an infected foot that prevented him from joining the melee topside, and the other cowering in the bilge hold. This man, one "Henk Biddle, of Tethyr", claims to have just been an unwitting deckhand, who only signed on with the Gibbet a few weeks ago when it took on water and supplies in Tashalar.

Two more slaves, but these are pleasure-slaves from Calimshan. They wear no chains, but were locked in the captains quarters. They look well fed, and relatively well treated, but look fearful nonetheless.

A small pig, wearing a purple scarf. It acts like a dog, really, running up to each individual and snuffling at their ankles, then backing up to peer at them with bright eyes. It's tiny tusks turn the corners of it's mouth up, and it looks like it's smiling.

The ships cat, a rangy looking tom with baleful yellow eyes that hisses at everyone that comes near it. However, you don't see any rats on board, so.. maybe he's good at his job?



Most of the hold space of the Gibbet is reserved for "living" cargo, but there is a small secondary hold for goods. The ships stores include about 300 man-days of decent food (what the crew ate), a few barrels of nearly rancid grain, which was being fed to the slaves, and 50 man-days of excellent food, including delicacies like Death's Head Cheese, an entire barrel of Rashemi Firewine, a pair of live Black Lobsters (three feet long, weighing about forty pounds each, this is a special dish native to Amn, and one of them could feed the entire crew, the Halfling cooks assure you), rare nuts from Chult, and other fine foodstuffs. This was for the Captain and his officers.

Thirty bolts of rare silk. Documentation in the chests that carry the bolts claim that the silk is from Kara-Tur.




Other than the typical things to be found on a ship (rope, chain, tools for repairs, raw materials for repairs, canvas for sails, etc), the crew had the following.

A grand total of 432 copper pieces (all of which was found in the crew's quarters or on the deckhands
A grand total of 1712 silver pieces
A grand total of 4319 gold pieces (3000 of which was in the Captains quarters in a beaten silver chest inlaid with obsidian and shards of amethyst)
43 gold ingots, unmarked
A bag of pearls of various size, color and quality (23 in total)
17 loose gems of various size, color, type and quality
Various simple jewelry, earrings, bracelets, necklaces rings, etc, of low-middling quality (A fair amount, but I'll let you appraise it as a whole)
Non-exceptional weaponry of multiple types- The typical.. swords, daggers, axes, a few pikes, bows, etc.
A number of books from the captain and the illusionists quarters-
A pair of travelling spellbooks in the illusionists quarters
A massive spellbook in the captains quarters (believe it or not, there are no traps on any of this stuff. You won't always be so lucky)
Three magical daggers
A twisted wooden rod that puts off greasy tendrils of smoke
Two magical rings
4 Scrolls, three arcane and 1 divine
A magical hat
A pair of magical bracelets
Nine potions of various sorts (4 of one kind, three of a second, and two of a third)
A portable laboratory- This is actually a small extradimensional space in a wooden case. Inside are all the necessary tools and implements to create potions and/or poisons
Two magical wands
One Silver Holy Symbol to Cyric

[Starbin]

Antos approached the pig first, amazed to find such an odd animal on board. He tried to work his woodsy wiles on it, hoping to make it even friendlier. Once he tried, he would move onto trying to make friends with the cat, if possible. He didn't seem overly interested in much else, but did wonder whether they would be continuing the search for the "Whispering Green" any time soon. Or looking to investigate the 'pirates cove.'

[roll0] to determine anything of interest with regard to the two animals
[roll1] or [roll2]
[roll3] or [roll4]