Shadowflux Risen

[Velvet Elvis]

~~~

The Regent's Orchard is a large inn, well-to-do and well suited to serving expensive drinks to large crowds in short order. Tonight, however, the polished marble and cedar of the classy tavern's walls seem to bulge outward, stuffed to capacity with a variety of characters seldom seen in this quarter of the city.

Apart from the four halberdiers dutifully holding their positions inside and outside the inn's main door, the rest of the establishment couldn't be in greater dissarray. The uniforms of the four guards are practically the only decorated cloth in the entire inn that hasn't been stolen, vandalized, or stained beyond recognition in the last half hour. The glassware and utensils are hardly faring much better; the handful of winecrystals and few remaining tankards that have escaped destruction thusfar are nearly all chipped, cracked, or otherwise defaced, and the owner's stock of fine silver tableware has been vanishing at an accelerating rate over the last ten minutes. Clearly, this is not the sort of clientele the establishment's owner is accustomed to serving, and his anxiety is evident from the way he stands behind his bar, ringing a scrap of dishrag between his sweaty palms. Several times he casts murderous glares toward a table near the stairs to the upper floor, but every time his ire begins to rise it is squelched immediately by an arrogant smile and a pale hand jingling a bag of coins in his direction.

The figure with the gold is quite evidently the driving force behind the strange happenings in the Regent's Orchard tonight. His flamboyant robes and lofty demeanor mark him as a mage of no small means. It is clear from the willingness of the ordinarily fussy innkeeper to tolerate the motley crew currently occupying his regularly selective establishment that there are important powers at work in the Orchard this evening.

Despite the press in the crowded common room, a clear space remains around the table near the stairs. Fear, admiration, and respect (or some combination of the three) keep the gray elf's immediate vacinity free from casual patrons, and a glare from his intense amber eyes is enough to warn away any of the Orchard's bolder clientele. He makes no move to quiet the rabble around him, however, and the scene of barely restrained chaos continues for many minutes as the hardened representatives of dozens of races and cultures continue to filter in, drinking, gambling, and bluffing amongst themselves.

Eventually, however, the pale-faced mage stands. With a glance to the waterclock above the marble fireplace, he nods to the two guards at the door, who shut and secure the heavy portal with a thick crossbar. He snaps a quick command to a liveried halfling who had, until that point, been lurking in the shadows near the stairs, and the agile creature wastes no time ferrying the coins the elf had been toying with to the nervous innkeeper. The oily man sneers a half-smile at his benefactor and turns his back, promptly opening the heavy purse and counting the gold and platinum pieces it contains.

Sneering in return, the mage holds his position, glaring out over the quieting masses of the room. Some of them are quite evidently inebriated, and with a flick of his wrist the slender elf points to several of the rowdiest in turn. Small balls of white light rotating over their heads mark them from their fellows, and in the course of the next few minutes several better-dressed ruffians rise from the crowd and escort the protesting individuals out a door in the back.

Quirking an eyebrow, the mage waits, pointing out several more drunken individuals who haven't taken their cues from the gathering silence. More hired toughs rise, and in the course of a few minutes the tavern is cleared of all obviously intoxicated invididuals. The few who remain are silent, now, blinking blearily at the lofty elf and pondering how, exactly, it is that they know it is in their best interests to remain quiet. As soon as he's confident that he has the room's utmost attention, the mage speaks.

"Greetings, patrons. I must say, I hardly expected such an...ambitious...response to my little invitation. Either there are more competent individuals in this miserable city than I credited it with, or there are far more fools than I feared."

Pausing, he smirks again, eyeing the drunken members of his audience with particular malice.

"Now then. I'm sure you all know why you're here, so I'll spare you the details. Suffice to say that the stories you've all been hearing for the past mooncycle are more than stories. Again, I'll spare you the details; sorting through all the versions of the tale that have been propagating themselves would take more time than I can spare, and I'd much prefer to conduct this business quickly. So let us be brief.

My name is not important. Let it be enough for me to say that I am a man not to be trifled with; I command powers and people the likes of which you'd rather not cross, idiots or no. Unfortunately, I am also a man of obligations. Which is what brings you people here.

To be short, I'm searching for something. Unfortunately, my studies and duties prevent me from going to retrieve it myself."

He pauses, pondering, before going on.

"Inconvenient circumstances play their part as well, I suppose. The more observant among you have perhaps noticed that our little party is conspicuously lacking others gifted in the arcane arts. That, I assure you, is no coincidence. The object I wish for you to retrieve is guarded by a strange phenomenon known as the Shadowflux. I am unaware of its origins, but from my research I've deduced that the unpredictable nature of the magical fluxes involved render prepared spellcasting impotent."

He grins.

"And so you see my quandary. A select few of you have the skills that I need. I have the gold and employment that you need. Hence, the simple laws of economics and convenience have brought us together."

Pausing, he strengthens his glare, his smirk melting away, his amber eyes going misty.

"Let notice be served that this assignment will be neither safe nor easy. Some of you who go will likely not return...and those of you who do will probably not make it back unscathed. You've heard of that poor sailor. The weak-willed among you might..."

He stops abruptly, waving a hand dismissively.

"No matter. It is enough for you to know that this little...adventure...will be monetarily rewarding, at least. If you succeed in acquiring the article that I seek, I assure you that you will not lack for coin...or reputation."

Directing his otherworldly gaze to the far limits of the crowd, his voice seems to grow in strength and certainty as he resumes speaking.

"I am a powerful seer, possessed of an inner vision that none of your small minds can hope to grasp. It is clear to me that there are those among you who are frightened...incapable...unconvinced."

He stops again, and his voice turns icy cold, acquiring a new tone of command that seeps into the minds of the less-than-wary.

"Leave now. Go. You will not be charged for anything you've purchased or broken this evening. Begone, and do not return this evening. You will remember little...and that is for the best."

As if in a daze, many of the individuals present rise, leaving their seats to filter out the back door of the inn in a slow line. By the time they've left, less than a quarter of the original interested parties remain after the latest purging. Still stoic, the mage returns to his appraisal of the tavern's occupants, the mists in his eyes thickening until the once-vibrant orbs are completely obscured.

"Yes...you. Those of you I'd hoped to attract. You, strong of sword, fast of foot...firm in faith...confident and able, all of you. Still...you are not all worthy."

He stops, smirking a different and humorless smirk.

"I suggest you all brace yourselves. Some find this...invasive."

With that, the mage rises to his feet, an ethereal mist seeming to gather about him, obscuring his form. The vapors above his head swirl, slowly coalescing to form an insubstantial likeness of the mage's face. He goes through a series of gestures, and then utters a single word of power, sending the eerie phantasm hurtling through the room, bursting into the crowd and dividing into a dozen smaller incarnations, each of which hurtles toward a different patron. Before any of those seated can react, the divining constructs seem to filter into their heads, diving through eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouths alike.

A gasp goes up from all those affected, the sort of sound a person makes when they're awakened with a pail of icy water. Several of the victims slide from their seats, convulsing wildly, while others suffer the invasion with slightly more dignity. After a few tense seconds, silvery vapors ooze from each of them, drawing themselves into a glittering stream, retracting back to form a ball in the air before the hovering mage. He breathes once, deeply, and the vapors fill his lungs, disappearing from sight.

For a few seconds nothing happens. The mage is the first to stir, dropping back to the tavern's floor. The noise of his impact seems to stir most of the others, and they gradually compose themselves with varying degrees of quickness to see the mage observing coldy, still smirking. None speak, until the gray elf seer breaks the silence.

"Well then. Now that we all know each other a little better...I can conclude my business with confidence."

Clapping his hands once, the elf turns his gaze to the door to the back room. The strong-arms from earlier re-enter, and with another word and a flick of his wrist, several more in the much diminished crowd are marked with rotating halos of light and quickly escorted out. As the door closes again, the mage speaks.

"Frankly, I've no time for niceties, and I've spent more than enough of my evening languishing in this cesspool of a town. You are my chosen. Report to the main pier tomorrow at dawn with everything you desire to take with you. But I warn you: bring only what you can carry. And bring your weapons. This will be no walk in the park."


~~~

(bc)

[Velvet Elvis]

The silent clarion call to Dordekurst, a bustling trade port testing the sea upon the western shores of the nation of Mantoc, has reached far and wide. Many have responded to the lure of adventure, and some to the ringing voice of raw coin, and still others to their inner urges for change. Though Dordekurst has easily swallowed them all and remains hungry for more, within that place some have been drawn further together by their individual fates.


A TASK IS AT HAND, AND THESE ARE THE INSTRUMENTS OF DISCOVERY


-[ DRAMATIS PERSONAE ]-

~~~~

Fryst

_.[ a barbarian shaman played by kuh ]._

...a tangle-haired halfling from the jungles of cozten who walks felinely and carries a big stick...

~~~~

Kahlynn Hawthorne

_.[ a human healer played by kahlynn ]._

...leaving a life of privilege behind, she has faith that she is on the right path...

~~~~

Eleberry Lockwidge

_.[ a gnome beguiler played by amodman ]._

...a charming gnome who can smile your possessions away, searching for that one quest to feed his thirst for accomplishment...

~~~~

Sparkan 'Sparky' Strongflame IV

_.[ a lightfoot wilderness rogue played by avernaith ]._

...a bright-eyed, cheerful youth on his first real adventure...

~~~~

Shael Greyswan

_.[ an elven warlock played by annarrkkii ]._

...a lost soul, haunted by the whispers of a foreign mind...

~~~~

Nivlan Kirk

_.[ a healer and paragon of humanity played by polkabear ]._

...a young nobleman of reflective nature, with a vendetta against suffering...

~~~~

Gauran Darkstrider

_.[ a goliath barbarian played by tyrél aurelian ]._

...a towering giant of sombre appearance giving the impression of a stone avalanche kept in check...for now...

~~~~

Adur Alakast

_.[ a human druid played by the snark ]._

...a hermit from the southern mountains, come recently by sea to dordekurst...

~~~~


.

[Velvet Elvis]

It's been ten days, or so the hashmarks upon the main-mast tell you, and it's been smooth sailing all the way. The cool waters of the Great Dusken sea have been as calm as Captain Merev claimed they'd be on that first night, during your welcoming trip around the sixty-foot sailing vessel, the Dancing Karil.

For the first few days, the crew exchanged signals with passing merchant vessels via flashed hooded lanterns. Such ships were fairly frequent then, but the last is a vague memory now. The creaking of the Dancing Karil's bulging sides and thick masts have now become the most common sounds. The impromptu drinking contests and games of Seadog's Tongue, so common early on, have faded much like the passing ships.

Though all's been well, so far, the sense of desolation borne of the seemingly endless expanse of quiet waters to all sides appears to have invaded the ship's soul. Its somber passage is mimicked by its crew of five who now do little more than watch the horizon ahead, to the west. Jorme, the young halfling crewman assigned to the crow's nest some forty feet above has called nothing since he reported sighting the huge kraken off the port five days ago. It was a common joke used to initiate passengers unfamiliar with the sea, and it played out with an amusing mock battle pitting the remaining deckhands versus a huge coil of rope. Unfortunately, the coil, with its heavy counterweight slipped overboard and disappeared below the surface before any could gain sufficient grip to prevent it. The captain was none too happy.

Since then, there've been no more smiles, no more jokes. In fact, there was very little of anything.

Captain Merev had said, on the first night aboard ship, that the trip would be long and lonely. Ships never plied the deep western expanses these days, it being accepted that there was little to be had in that direction as no land had ever been discovered. Rumors made the rounds in every tavern and dockside on the Mantocki coast, about the sea monsters and the ghost ships that awaited any foolish enough to pass beyond the Wyche's Mark, an imaginary line set at eight days under full sail. The Dancing Karil had passed that line without incident, her captain having none of the nonsense so many others in his place took stock in. With nothing to refute the rumors, it generally became accepted fact that ships wandering beyond the line would rarely return to tell any tales at all.

On this tenth evening at sea, now days since anything of import had occured, the eldest crewmen, a grizzled, pock-faced man claiming the simple name Salt, angled in a large sinkfish off the starboard bow. A sinkfish is a rare creature that occasionally seeks the surface from its typical home in the deep water trenches. From time to time, such an occurrance will result in the animal drifting to the east and being scooped up by a random ship. Though the creature is quite an ugly thing, it has a kind of legendary status based upon its rarity and the unusually sweet taste of its flesh. Some say it is a gift of Teboril, a minor god of the sea that exists somewhere far beneath the waves, and far from the shores of Lymeril, and so its appearance is considered a good omen despite its peculiar name.

Though rarely seen at all, ship's logs typically report sightings on full moon nights, usually nearing dusk, and under conditions of an unusually warm westward breeze.

Tonight is such a night.

Following days of listless, humorless drudgery, the crew and the passengers now have something to divert attention from the uncomfortable reality of their isolation. A fine meal centering on thick, sweet sinkfish filets and a comfortable breeze to puff the sails a bit more fully. With the ship's soul lightened by the good omen, and the crew more lively than they've been in some time, all aboard, save for the captain who remains dutifully at the helm, have taken a seat upon the main deck to partake of the fish and engage in relaxing conversation.

With the breeze swaying the lanterns upon numerous mast hooks, point of the prow and atop the crow's nest, the Dancing Karil drifts ever westward on the breeze and the light current beneath her hull. Gigson, a deckhand of about thirty-odd years, has taken up his prized recorder and begun to play a melancholy shanty. As if to join the mood, the stars above seem to twinkle more brightly against the deep blackness of the night sky, and the reflections of moonlight appear to frolic more playfully upon the light waves that mask the depth of the uncharted Dusken Sea.

[KuH]

Fryst
[Little jungle halfling]

As you may have noticed, I have changed in the past week at sea: literally. The heavy leathers have disappeared away (you're not quite sure where) and instead I am wearing a loincloth, some camouflage bracelets and anklets and even, today, a feathered headdress ... along with the ocelot skin which never seems to leave my shoulders. The sun doesn't seem to bother me, other than causing occasional beads of perspiration on my reddish skin. Now that people are used to me I'm also wearing some sort of claws on my hands ... not to universal popularity among the sailors, though.

Of course, the silvery film on my eyes and my way of looking partly through people didn't endear me to the common sailor either, but I don't seem aggressive or rude - just a bit standoffish ... and more than ready to fight if required.

My big stick has disappeared into a sort of strange pouch I wear on my belt (the same pouch you once saw a blowpipe come out of, as I amused myself by mock-aiming at flying fish with one day) ... and I am tenderly slicing into the delicate fish with one claw as I eat with the fingers of the other hand, licking my lips and almost purring at the same time.

"So, this seems like a pretty good deal so far. Be paid to take a long sail and eat delicious sea fish?"

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk
[youngish human nobleman smelling of healing salve]

A young human sits on a coil of rope, silently eating Salt's fish. He laughs at the jokes the others tell, and even offers one or two of his own; but for the most part he spends his time tending to the ignoble tasks that often go unfinished. He also tries to learn what he can from the sailors about the work that they do to keep the ship afloat and on course--when he won't be in the way, that is.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan
[slim, introspective elf in dark garb]

I lounge in the bow, hands resting on the railing, broad-brimmed hat pulled low on my brow. I close my eyes, smelling the wind and salt.

"Too close... too close. If we hadn't learned that was I joke, or if my control had slipped... too close."

I cast a glance back over my shoulder at the moonlit deck, hoping the brim of my hat will hide by glowing green eyes. "If it had been a kraken, I'm reasonably sure we'd—no, I'd—be the only thing between us and a salty grave."

I turn forward again, looking out into the darkness, the gloomy night parting easily to my enchanted vision.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
[Thin, dark haired gnome with bright blue eyes that seem to notice everyone]

"...yet none of the other nobles were courageous enough to tell our young, rich Sir Dawsley that he was hosting his own party completely in the nude! In fact everyone smiled their hardest to avoid laughing when he presented himself before them to show off his finely crafted 'costume' I had provided him. It was a magnificent evening, especially after Baron Ulranney paid me in full for showing everyone that Dawsley's manhood was less...substantial than he claimed it to be, just as I had agreed to do, and the vain Dawsley paid me twice that for helping him pick out the perfect costume to wear for his party!"

The sailors I was entertaining were laughing as I finished my tale. Rough men always loved hearing about the arrogant being taken down a few notches. Looking over, I see the elf still looking like he's contemplating some dark mystery of the deep while gazing over the bow. I was hoping the group interaction would draw him over. He was yet another mind to figure out on this long journey commisioned by the Wizard.

Hearing the Halfling speak to my left I shifted my attention, "Oh yes, so far this seems to be a fantastic venture commisioned by our fair mysterious fellow back in Doderkurst. I only hope something interesting happens on this little sailing trip of ours before we start turning barrels into bulettes and candle sticks into hydras to pass the time!"

[Velvet Elvis]

Jorme, the young, happy-go-lucky hand serving primarily as the watchman, leaves the gathering with a chunk of bread and hard cheese in hand. Despite only having one hand free, and a dagger in his mouth, he deftly ascends the main-mast to retake his usual seat in the crow's nest. Within a few moments, the high lantern that's been lit since he came down to join the crew and passengers, winks out.

Gigson continues to play various melodies, mostly melancholy sorts that seem to match the quietude of the ocean and the somber nature of the small ship's silent effort to seek out the island the mage had indicated should be somewhere west of here. He never mentioned how long the journey would be, deferring such calculations to Captain Merev. Though the sea veteran has, likewise, not stated flatly the date of expected arrival, he has indicated that, with some luck and little interference, twelve days should bring the island into view.

Yorkin, a lithe but muscular human of some thirty-some-odd years, stakes the dagger he's been using to carve his meal into the wooden deck between his bare feet. Looking up, he asks no one particular, "So...any of ye ever seen a true mermaid, eh? I hear tell of 'em swimmin' around the wrecks of lost ships that've travelled too far beyond the Wyche's Mark. It's said they're jus' like the reg'lar women, y'know? 'Cept fer them fishy tails n'all." He grins mischievously at Kahlynn with something approaching half the expected number of teeth.

Salt growls at him, flashing a grimace made all the more menacing by the uneven surface of his leathery skin.

Yorkin holds up his hands toward Salt, palms out. "Bah, don't getcher hackles up ol' man, I'm jus' playin' with our guests." You easily notice that Yorkin's missing an index finger on his right hand.

With a trailing glance at Salt, Yorkin revives his question, "Any of ye? I'd sure like t'see one fer m'self. Somethin' ta tell m'boys when I get shoreside again." Despite his rather indelicate manner, the mention of his sons indicates he does harbor at least one redeeming quality.

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[excited, happy-go-lucky halfling with a perpetual grin]

Sparky has spent the majority of the trip in an excited daze. From the moment the last rope was cast off until the harbour of Dordekurst finally fell out of view, he had run no less than seven laps around the entire small ship in an whirling (and very vocal) exploration. It takes little time for his companions and shipmates to discover that whatever seems to percolate into his brain immediately emerges from his mouth. He checks ropes, counts belaying pins, looks for loose planks, climbs to the crow's nest, climbs anything vertical or slanting in sight, stops to do some fishing, then repeats the whole process or something similar the next hour.

Despite the seeming dreariness of the crew, Sparky keeps up an enthusiastic and determined attempt to befriend all of them, but especially Salt. "I had an Uncle named Salt, but he wasn't much like you at all. He was a looooooot shorter. And hey, is your skin made of real leather or does it just look like it? Have you been at sea a long time? I haven't been at sea for long but I do love it out here. I used to go sailing with my dad, but not my Uncle Salton. We'd go fishing aaaaaaaall the time. Not me and Uncle Salt, me and Dad. Well, we went a few times, but I could tell he wanted to go fishing more. Say, can I go fishing with you right now? what are you using for bait? Hey, check out my fishing pole. I got it for ... I don't remember, but it was a special reward for doing something. Probably making a new friend. Would you like to be friends, Salt? that'd be great!"

And so on, for the many days of travel. The ship is only so big, and after uncounted tours and inspections, the Karil at least ceases to be a place of wonder for the excited young halfling, until he can be found most days near the rail with his fishing pole in hand, casting out for fish or just staring off in wide-eyed wonder and the deep blue. That's where he is when Yorkin makes his mention of the mermaid, sparking our small hero's instant interest.

"Oh I'd love to hear more about Mermaids, Yorkin. Did you ever meet one? I thought I saw one once, but Dad said it was a haddock. Are they a lot like haddock? Is the plural of haddock just haddock, or haddocks? I wonder why paddocks are something you keep animals in, even if it's just one you still call them paddocks. Or paddock works too. Do you suppose Mermaids keep livestock? I tried to help once, but Dad said I spooked the animals too much." Unperturbed by any reaction, he presses the point. "How many sons do you have Yorkin? Are they all human? I bet you married a Mermaid, and your sons are all half Mermen. No, wait, then they wouldn't be that impressed, because they would have already seen a Mermaid, their Mom. Do you think we'll see one on this trip? Is it good luck or bad luck to see one? Are they the ones that sing you to a watery grave? Or are those the krakens like we saw earlier. That kraken looked a lot like rope to me, I'm not nearly so scared of 'em as I was when I was a little sprout. Do you think we'll have any of those little sprout things with dinner tonight? That look like little cabbages? I love those, especially when they're served with butter and a little lemon wedge. We have lemons down in the mess! I saw 'em. I bet we have those sprout things tonight, mark my words. Yum!"

Enthused and not at all breathless, he continues his stream-of-consciousness internally while awaiting the anticipated Story

[Velvet Elvis]

Yorkin tried several times to get a word in edgewise, but was thwarted repeatedly by the torrent of words streaming from the energetic halfling.

Salt watched in amusement, arms folded across his chest. He muttered a few things toward Yorkin, but nothing audible over the halfling's chatter. Even Captain Merev chuckled quietly to himself, a smile apparent through the salt-and-pepper porcupine's stubble beginning to grow long on his face.

"Gods! How did so many words get stuffed up inside ye, little man? Now, if ye'll just clam up for a minute or two, I'll tell ye somethin' of what ye're askin'. First, I ain't seen n'mermaids yet, or maybe I wouldn't'a been sayin' I hoped I would. Second, I got me two strappin' sons, like I said. I'm thinkin' that kinda answers most of yer questions right there. And do I think we'll see one o'them merfolks? Can't say. They be rare, an' besides, since they seem t'like them ghost ships, I guess I prolly don't really want'a see 'em all as much as I said, since ghost ships'er supposed t'have ghosts on 'em, eh?"

Gigson stops playing for a moment and interjects, "Come now, Yorkie, you still believe in them child's tales about specters and such? Ghost ships are just tales, nothin' more. No one's really seen one, anyway, or do you believe everythin' them drunks in the taverns got t'say?" He waves a hand dismissively and returns to playing a slow, lilting tune.

"Have it'cher way, Gig, but when we run in'ta one next time Jorme falls asleep in th'nest, you'll see," says Yorkin in all seriousness.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn
[quiet, dark-haired and just a bit overwhelmed]

Kahlynn has spent a good deal of the voyage with her nose inserted firmly into the pages of a large gilt-edged book, one with an emblazoned sun picked out in gold leaf on the cover. She smiles wanly at the jokes, even those she doesn't ... quite ... get, which seem to be the majority. Yorkin's subtleties earn him blushes, with more of bewilderment than propriety behind them.

Each dawn, however, sees her at the aft railing, greeting the rising sun. Her prayers are quiet, but no less fervent for that.

She joins the group meals and story-gatherings, but has as yet spoken out only rarely. Still, she can be found hovering at the edges, as if uncertain about how to approach.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
[Also referred to as 'Lock']

Lockwidge was bemused by the excitable halfling's exchange with Yorkin, almost as much as he was intriguied by the talk of the old man. He'd be a fool to trust the words of a weathered sea hand about all things mystical and arcane, but few knew what mysteries might await them so far out at sea.

"Do you really believe that, Gigson?" asked Lock as he moved over to those listening to his recorder. "I would not be so quick as to dismiss the stories of the sea as mere child's fancies. I lived in Kiil's long enough to know that it would take a great force indeed to delude the minds of so many sailors into so strongly believing in those very stories as fact. You never know what you might encounter out here."

And to prove his point Lock fell immediately into a spellcasting trance to call up a Silent Image of their very topic of discussion, a ghostly depiction of what he thought a mermaid would look like with long, flowing sea green hair and a qausi-human torso covered on front by strung together shells. The mermaid wasn't formed in the ship, however, but outside, and Lock called the image springing out of the water, illusory spray included, and landed it on the deck of the ship right next to where he was standing.

"I hope it's everything you wished to see, Yorkin," continued Lockwidge, as the image stared detachedly at the surrounding figures. "Never assume you know where fact begins and fantasy ends." And with that, Lock's fingers snapped and the image dissipated in an explosion of illusory water all about him.

OOC: DC 19 Will for anyone who cares to disbelieve the image that might not have actually realized that I was casting an illusion spell (thus negating a saving throw since they knew it wasn't real), mainly for the water that might've splashed them as it dissipated. 20 if you count them as "surprised" & w/o Dex bonus (if that even applies).

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[wide-eyed with wonderment on his first Real Adventure]
"Yeah I've heard that before that I have a lot of words stuffed inside of me but then again I've also seen items of Holding like a Bag of Holding or a Handy Haversack and they have a lot more things stuffed inside of them than their size would normally allow for so I tend to think it's possible, maybe I'm a Halfling of Holding and what you see is just the bigness of words inside me despite my small size. My Mom said that it meant I had a heart too big for my chest but I don;t think that's true because I never felt any pain in my chest except for maybe that one time at the Harvest Faire but then again that may have been my stomach instead and I never really understood why it was called heart burn because it wasn't that close to the heart and it seemed to happen when you eat too much like trying to finish off an entire tray of rhubarb tarts." As if flicked on by some hidden switch, his eyes begin to shine with wonder as his imagination starts to carry him away.

"Did you say ... Ghost Ships? Wow ... I thought I saw a ghost ship once, when I woke up really early one day to go fishing down by the pier. It was all big an' grey and misty, like you could see right through it. I'm not sure if it was real or I was imagining it, but I bet it was real because it was one of the most Exciting Things to ever happen in Baysurf. Only ... no one else saw it, but maybe that's because it was meant for just me to see it but that sounds a little presumptuous and I'm not really the presumptuous sort. Yorkin, do you think we'll get to see a real Ghost Ship too? That would be so great! The kraken was kind of a disappointment, but I bet if we were hove to by a Ship of the Dead and the Damned it would be a Great Adventure! I could tell my Uncle all about it and did you know he may have even met the King once and I got a package from an agent of the crown with their little stampy thing on it and they were his Last Effects and that's sort of a silly name if you think about it because they were actually things and not really effects like you would normally think of an effect. An effect is what a cause makes, but not claws or caws because those are sharp things that cats have and squirrels too but you wouldn't think they would because they're so pretty and fluffy but they do -not- want to be held or cuddled and certainly object to be knocked out by a sling stone even if it's really small and you would not believe how much damage they can do if they wake up inside a sock drawer after you knock one out to take it home to cuddle and be your pet and they decide they're ready to leave and can't find the door to get out but do manage to find the hallway leading deeper into the Burrow and your Mom is making treacle fudge on the counter and they run right across it and did you know that squirrels can have rabies but not all squirrels and sometimes you have to go to a priest or healer to have them check you over to see if the squirrel had rabies even if it didn't have any outward signs of it? And caws come from crows which are not related to cows at all and certainly do not have milk but they do have eggs but unlike chickens they do -not- let you gather them in a basket and they try to put your eyes out with their beaks."

Still chattering on a whole host of his Favorite Subjects, Sparky at last falls silent as Lock casts his Silent Image. "Wow. Can you make -any- picture come alive like that, Lock? Now I've seen a real Mermaid, a Kraken, and a Ghost Ship. But not all at once. I hope we see a Real Ghost Ship soon on -this- voyage. That would be something to tell your sons, Yorkin. Wow"
OOC: Sparky failed his Will Save by rolling a 12

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Gauran Darkstrider
[a sombre giant with a voice like a low thunder rumbling]

Most of the time Gauran stays at the prow, looking forward to see if they were arriving already. Having a lot of difficulties adapting to the sea at first, after a few days he seemed to have embraced it with his being. He never speaks a lot, quite the opposite to Sparky, and clearly cannot cope with that manner of bombardment Sparky will, at some time during the journey, probably also have used on him.

Although a gentle force at first sight, he keeps a level of sombre depression throughout the journey that makes conversation with him awkward and thus, barring a few attempts from the other adventurers, leaves him brooding at the prow mostly. At dawn, he joins Kahlynn every day at the aft railing, offering his own prayers.

When Salt offers to him a part of the sinkfish he thankfully accepts and joins the others for the meal, listening quietly to the conversation. Although clearly catched by surprise when the fake mermaid is conjured he relaxes at it becomes clear that it is an illusion.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan


Shael's head whips around and the sounds of surprise from the sailors; the rest of the conversation, debate, and entertainment has held no interest to him, but the slightest chance of danger set him immediately on edge.

[I]Fools! A deplorable waste of a cantrip.

Shaking his head and settling his hat even lower on his brow, he turned back to face outwards over the sea once more, but this time with an ear perked for the conversation.

I've switched to third person. Sorry, but I'm not comfortable using it. And your illusion holds no sway over me!

[Velvet Elvis]

Lock's display draws Yorkin to his feet then to the portside rail. "Wouldja lookit that! Sher looks like what I been told, alright, 'cept fer the shells."

Gigson, however, seems only mildly impressed. He stops playing his recorder, setting it against a raised knee. "Yorkie, calm down. Didn't ya see him wiggling his fingers there? Some sorta trickery, nice'n pretty, but still that."

"Bah, Gig, you don't believe in nuthin' that's yer problem, mate. Y'ain't got no imagination in yer head," he shoots back to Gigson.

"An' you got far too much, y'old sap." Yorkin returns to his spot near the pallet of fish and fiddles idly with his dagger blade.

Gigson makes motions to play again, then stops, and says to Lockwidge, "Mebbe I should be a wee bit more clear on what I was sayin', since ya seem to be tryin' ta make a fool of me." He doesn't seem all too happy at the exchange, though his next words appear well-chosen to avoid further confrontation. "I'm not sayin' there ain't nothin' out here that'd bend one's mind a bit, 'cause even Salt ain't been out here much enough t'know fer sure, but I also wasn't talkin' about phantoms like that one ye conjured up. When someone dredges up a real mermaid, I'll mebbe change m'mind, or when the Dancing Karil runs int'a an actual ghost ship, then I'll be more inclined ta think otherwise."

Salt says nothing, but shakes his head or nods in agreement with Gigson's comments.

Yorkin apparently intended to say something on the tail-end of Sparky's nearly incessant stream of words, but clamped his mouth shut and instead turned to look at Lockwidge.

"Kin ye make a sea serpent? They say them things live out here, too. And they always be hungry fer anythin' they kin catch," he says with a glance toward Gigson. "Y'know, supposedly."

At this, Gigson rolls his eyes and resumes playing his recorder as he strolls to the foredeck and faces the western horizon, which at this time of night is effectively indistinguishable.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn
[impressed, almost not afraid to say so]

"Well, I ...", she stops, clears her throat to add a bit of volume."I thought she was very pretty, Lock." She quickly finds her small bowl of fish intensely interesting, and moves back the deck to sit a bit behind Gauran and effectively out of sight.

Sparky's tirade bring a hand to her lips, stifling involuntary giggles lest the halfling think himself insulted, or even worse, draw his attention. At Gigson's somber talk of ghost ships and sea serpents, she makes a warding sign against ill speaking, and her eyes go worriedly to the dark waves surrounding them.
"SunLord preserve us..."

[KuH]

Fryst

Fryst sort of hisses and bristles as the sea maiden jumps on ship, then snorts as it disappears into droplets.

As for the excitable little Sparky, he watches him with amused tolerance.

"Ghost ships - I can believe them. There are all sorts of strange things out there in this world of ours - and in the spirit world beyond.

Don't worry. We can handle them."

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

Nivlan murmurs an echo to Kahlynn's invocation. "May he shine his favor on us."

Kahlynn is something of an enigma to Nivlan. There seems to be so much in common between them--privileged upbringing, concern for healing, theological agreement--but there is also a distinct distance, as if one or the other of them is trying to hide something or from something.

The talk of ghost ships catches his attention. "And how does one 'handle' a ghost ship? Is it supposedly as ghostly as its crew or is it real wood planking and hemp line?"

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

The elf straightens in the bow. Ghost ships? Interesting...

Inside him, memory wells up, roiling and steaming behind his glowing eyes. Spectres circling, wailing—their transparent, lifeless hands reaching out to grasp him, their touch colder than ice and hotter than a forgefire, draining lifeforce through the scales of his—NO!

The warlock spins from the prow and strides toward the others on deck, though keeping his distance, counting on his hat to shield his eyes. His voice is tight as he spoke.

"They're real, healer. They're real."

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

Nivlan eyes the elf for a moment. Something troubles him about this topic.

"I'll take your word for it, sir. You seem to be one who would know. I wonder how these things occur. Is it the result of a curse? A choice? A dark god's humor? No matter. Now is probably not the time to hear of such things."

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Gauran Darkstrider

Turning his head as Kahlynn vanishes behind his bulk he casts a glance in her direction, then turns back to regard the others.
As he speaks, as always slow and low, it makes the impression as if his own ghosts haunt him:

"It is never the time to hear of such things. Ancient horrors lurk behind the Veil of Death, and if they make it through to the world of the living, then may the Forgefather have mercy on us all. I, for one, prefer to fight the living - there is no satisfaction in killing something that is already dead."

He falls silent again, concentrating his efforts on his piece of fish.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

"More... satisfaction? I suppose that is one way to look at it. I prefer to fight the living because they can die, goliath. Steel and courage are no weapons to fight the undead. All... all..."

He shakes his head, and trails off, murmuring something inaudible. Not my experiences... not my memories. And I speak of them so easily.

"There are ways to fight them."

The elf settles to a half-seated stand against the rail of the boat, head lowered but listening.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge

In response to Yorkin, Lock tells him, "I can do many things, good sailor, but I shall give it a rest for the moment before the captain has me for disrupting his ship!" He ends with a smile, but turning more to Kahlynn and Gigson, he goes on, "I'm glad you liked it Kahlynn. I thought it important we all know whatever it is we might encounter out here. But let me ask you all this, trick or real spectre, what does it matter? Will you stop to ask an angry spirit heading your way if they're real or an illusion being created by an even greater enemy?"

Nodding to Shael, Lockwidge continued, "I'm glad someone acknowledges that we can fight them. Whatever it is that we find out here, if it comes against us, it will simply have to be overcome...one way or another. I don't know about you, but that's why I signed up for this trip. I would like to see with what mysteries the world tries to challenge me."

OOC: Heh, a warlock commenting on "wasting a spell...", I chuckled a little. I'm a dork.

[KuH]

Fryst

"A good question, Nivlan. Is a ghost ship a real ship manned by ghosts, or made of ghostly timber? For myself I expect the former - a real ship manned by the spirits of living creatures. Such spirits are something I have seen many times before - something I see every day." You notice again the strange silvery film on Fryst's eyes and his far-away look. "I have never seen the spirit of wood ... although perhaps a druid may.

Fryst stretches and looks around the deck.

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[adrift on the sea of daydreams]
Sparky swoons a bit as he takes it all in, bright hazel eyes darting from one conversation to the other. All the while, he keeps a thumb twitching lightly on the line has has cast over the rail. He looks Gauran over from feet to head many times Sparky's own height, flashes Shael a grin and quick wave, gives an appreciative thumbs up to Lock, bounces his head during the tense interplay between the crewmen and the gnome, smiles at Kahlynn and Nivlan, and finally gives Fryst a lopsided but energetic wave. After a split second of internal monologue, his mouth drops open again and all his thoughts vocalize in a slightly more subdued fashion, though still a bit of a rush.

"Wow, there sure are a lot of us here. I never knew adventuring parties got so big. I bet we could survive anything. Has anyone seen that druid guy? the human? I think he might still be below decks but I haven't been down to look because the crow's nest is so much fun and I really like sleeping on deck under the stars. Is it always so pretty out on the ocean or do you get storms here too? We had a few storms back home but the harbour is really well designed my Dad says so we never got much in the way of storm surges but one time we did and the Council had to send to Penwell to get enough commoners to clean up the mess. That was great, I would have helped more but I was only seven then and not really big enough to move much not that I'm much bigger now but I guess if I really tried I could help out more or at least rig some sort of lift or something. I'm really good with rope which I hear is a big help on ships but this is really only the second ship I've been on not counting smacks and stuff, I've been on lots of those like maybe six or seven of them."

He looks out over the railing again, staring off as far as he can while his hands reel in the line unconsciously. He checks his lure out of habit and casts the line out into the sea again before looking over at Gauran. "Do all of your people have names like Darkstrider or are you the only one? What does it mean anyways, that you walk in darkness or it's dark where you walked once or is it more of a family name thing? Are you related to ogres at all? I met an ogre once, his name was Grog. Did you ever meet him? I think we ought to be friends. My Mom always told me to find people who stand out and make friends with them right away. She told me why but I sort of forgot all that, so I just concentrate on the important part and that's making friends. I think I'd prefer to make friends out of everyone here, because we all stand out a lot. Maybe that's what the wizard guy saw in us, that we're different or special or something. Anyways, Mister Darkstrider, I'd like to be your friend if you don't mind. I'll try to protect you from anything smaller than you, and maybe you can try to protect me from anything bigger than me. that should cover most everything, because you're bigger than almost anything I've ever seen and I'm smaller than almost anything you've seen, except for maybe Fryst. He's a halfling too, but a little bit scary but I still want to be his friend one day too. Right after I find out if he really eats other halflings and cracks their bones to make his bread. My Mom told me that in a bedtime story once, than jungle halflings have sharp teeth like needles and they make howls like hyenas and eat little lightfoot halflings that hide crackers and cookies and fishing poles in their beds. But Fryst doesn't seem to have needly-sharp teeth and he hasn't eaten me or Lock in quite a few days, and I'm sure he's had a few chances at least. Do you think maybe he's a vegetarian jungle halfling or is it all a story and jungle halflings don't eat lightfoot halflings? I sure hope they don't. Do goliaths eat lightfoot halflings? I don't imagine we'd be a very filling meal but maybe we're really sweet like that sinkfish or candy or something. Candy is really good but not terribly filling unless you sneak into the kitchen and eat say two pounds of it at midnight and then drink a half pitcher of tea right after. Have you ever had candy before, Mister Darkstrider?"

With honest and quizzical eyes he looks up to meet the goliath's gaze.

[Velvet Elvis]

As your conversation continues, the warm breeze that's been blowing lazily westward suddenly dies away. With its absence, you now note that most of your forward motion must have been due to the weak current alone, as the sails have already sagged to hang limply across the rigging.

In apparent response to the change, Captain Merev's resonant voice rings out, interrupting you all: "Doldrums ho!"

At the call, Gigson's recorder is silenced and stowed between cord belt and tunic as he rushes just aft of port to disappear down the stairs to the crew cabin. The ship's forward motion slowly comes to a halt, indicating that the current has, likewise, died away.

Yorkin has made his way forward and is all but hanging over the bow rail, peering into the darkness ahead. Jorme has remained silent, though looking up, you can just make out his small silhouette against the matte of stars. Salt's disappeared as well, most likely belowdecks to accompany Gigson in whatever duty this sort of situation calls for.

For the moment, at least, there is general quiet. Even the ship's usual creaking has ceased with nothing at all left to stress the timbers. Despite the seeming pointlessness, Captain Merev's grip remains upon the wheel's inner spokes. He seems quite unfazed by the sea's sudden shift.

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[hopeful despite all circumstances]
"If I can hook a whale or sea turtle we can use to tow us out of here! Don't worry Captain, I won't stop fishing for Something Big!"

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

Shael doesn't move from his seat, appearing not to notice the sudden eruption of motion on deck, or the lack of motion of the ship itself. He seems... elsewhere.

Ghost ships? I always thought they were just stories... He frowns slightly to himself. A whisper of thought brushes the back of his mind, a half-formed idea and a trace of amusement, but he crushes it back forcefully, his face tightening further beneath the low brim of his hat. He runs a thumb absently behind his green neckerchief, still seemingly oblivious.

((To clarify, the glowing green eyes were meant to indicate devil's sight. Hindsight realizes that I should most likely have specified that. IN the event that you rule that I didn't say it, so it didn't happen, I will activate devil's sight before he takes any other actions. I hope you'll allow me to have had it active (it's really only darkvision), as I was hoping to avoid using my warlock powers inthe open. It has a 24-hour duration, so I'd imagine he'd use it every morning and leave it on.))

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
[Aka, Lock]

Lock's concentration breaks from gazing aft, where he'd last seen Salt head, when the whole crew starts to break in different directions. Doldrums...the captain said, a natural occurrence maybe, but it still put Lock at unease so far out at sea.

Lock smiled at Sparky's quip. Entertaining as it was, it wasn't useful...but he wouldn't tell the halfling that. Salt was senior crewman aboard, he would be helpful in the current situation, where had he headed? Lock didn't want to cause any suspicion aboard such a small ship, but he was naturally suspicious. It was his job to pay attention to others, and Salt didn't look at ease when he'd slipped away from the group. Wise or not, Lock decides to head the way he saw Salt go, find out what was going on with him. He was no use sailing the ship anyway.

Nonchalantly Lock himself slipped towards the aft of the ship, and, not taking any chances, carefully sneaks as best he can going into the cabin below the poop deck, ready to smile and bluff his presence there away or blink out of visibility at a moment's notice.

[The_Snark]

Adur Alakast

It is the calm that finally shakes Adur away from nearthe stern of the Dancing Karil, where he'd been staring out over the ocean at night, smiling faintly. The general good humor of the crew tonight, as opposed to the uneasiness that had predated it, was a welcome relief tonight, but still not quite enough to draw him out into their company; the hesitation at stepping in combined with the lure of the ocean view has kept him just on the edge. I never thought I'd be at sea again quite so soon after stepping ashore in Dordekurst.

Adur has spent most of his time on the ship looking out at the sea. He's not very talkative, but he has introduced himself, and made an attempt to get to know the others on this venture. He's on the tallish side, with a short beard and a weatherbeaten face. His eyes are piercing blue, and don't look quite as old as the rest of him. His head is shaven completely. He's hard to read most of the time, and a little awkward in conversation, but makes the effort at least.

As the wind stops, he finally turns away from the rail and towards the center of the ship. "A fickle wind tonight." He peers upwards at the night sky as though listening, glancing out over the sea for signs of wind elsewhere. "I wonder how long this will last?" A dead spot in the winds is a rare thing in the mountains, though not so much on flatter ground; it's not something Adur is used to.

Survival check to predict approximately what the weather will be like, taking 10 if possible for 25.

[blue chicken]

Captain Merev smiles warmly in response to the enthusiastic halfling's proposed solution, turning to regard him with a kindly look. Still grinning, he responds, his deep voice carrying a bit of the culture and station that comes with his position, but rooted firmly in the slang and dialect of the lifelong sailing man nonetheless.

"Don't ye worry yerself o'er a bit o' doldrums, m' boy. We're bein' paid by that snotty-nosed waif o' a mage same as you are, an' he told us a bit o' what to look out for. We've been expectin' this little piece a' calm for a dozen hours, now. Got somethin' to help, though...Salt'll be back with it shortly. Gift from the mage, ya' see."

Belowdecks, Lock doesn't have long to wait before Salt reappears, a long and flat box tucked under one arm. Apparently fashioned of cherrywood, a few glyphs of arcane warding decorate the box, and a silver lock and catch hold the cover shut. Quirking an eyebrow at the charming gnome, Salt continues unphased, heading up the stairs to the deck and calling back down.

"No time t'be belowdecks, gnome. Ye don't wanna miss the fun, do ya'? I been achin' to know what's in this damned wizard's box for more'n a tenday, now. Come on, out with ye. Plenty a' time fer sleepin' and lurkin' later on."

Emerging from belowdecks with the box in hand, Salt makes his way over to the captain, who takes the box and produces a key from a lanyard around his neck. Fitting the silver key into its lock, a swift turn has the chest open with a dim flash and a puff of yellow smoke. Shaking his head, Merev coughs several times and holds the open box out at arm's length.

"Damnable mage...me, the only one with a key, and he's worryin' about traps...."

He mutters a few other unintelligible epithets and removes a silk-wrapped bundle from inside, handing the box to Salt, who steps aside. The silk comes off quickly under the captain's skilled and weathered hands, and he drops the piece of yellow material aside, revealing a single large feather. Merev grimaces and holds it up for inspection.

"Nothin' too fancy, elf-mage. No need for all the hocus-pocus..."

He turns back to Sparky, smiling again, his good humor apparently returned.

"Hold on t'yer rod there, little sardine. About to be...a kind of a lurch, if this works like it's meant to."

Turning to look at the rest of the crew, he ***** an eyebrow and addresses them as well.

"Hear me? I'm not fer throwing another good line overboard if we can help it, so brace yerselves and try not to lose yer footing, eh?"

Glancing up to the crow's nest, he increases the volume of his shout for the lookout's benefit.

"An' that goes double fer yer good self, Mister Jorme!"

He pauses for a moment, chewing his lip and glancing at the cabin door.

"Wish Gigson was on deck...but he's an old enough hand, little jostle won't bother 'im any. He'll be back up with our next scroll of instructions from our employer soon enough. Told us not to break the seal 'till we hit the doldrums and used our bit of magic, the dry little seer...damned secretive sort. Can't abide wizards, myself."

With another shrug, he turns back, taking a few steps to put himself directly behind the main sail. Holding the feather at arm's length, he gives it a vigorous shake, and then another, and another, as though flapping a section of wet canvas. With each shake, the feather token grows longer and wider, and soon takes on a life of its own, flapping vigorously as the captain withdraws his hand. It hangs in the air of its own accord, flapping regularly and directing a fresh stream of air into the luffing sails. The ship creaks, and then jumps forward as her mainsail fills.

Merev steps back to the wheel, grasping it firmly and inhaling with a smile on his face.

"Wyche's Mark, my left leg. We'll be makin' good time now, better, even, than we were. Shouldn't be long."

Looking over his shoulder, he shouts back to the wide-eyed halfling.

"You there! Mind that fan, would ya'? Sing out if it starts to flag. Then we'll know we're close..."

He spares another glance to the cabin door, still awaiting the arrival of the tardy deckhand.

"Where in the nine hells has Gigson gotten to? It's not that hard ta-"

He cuts off as the door opens and Gigson steps out, a sealed scroll in his hand.

"Sorry, Cap'n. It was buried down with the rest o' the gear the mage sent with us. Took me a bit to dig it out. Still unopened."

Handing the message over, he steps back and resumes his playing, though more quietly now than before. Captain Merev cracks the seal and reads the scroll, his eyes narrowing and his jaw setting as he does so. Checking the horizon, the captain adjusts course a few degrees and calls back up to the crow's nest.

"Mister Jorme! Peel yer eyes, and let me know the moment you sight anythin' on the horizon, man."

Calling over his shoulder again, the Captain speaks once more before falling silent, gripping the wheel with a controlled intensity and staring ahead into the gathering dark.

"And the rest o' ya keep yer eyes open too. Ghost ships, krakens, and mermaids be damned...there are real enough things out there in the dark."

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

Shael continues his half-stand against the railing throughout the crew's adventures belowdecks. Even the unveiling of the wizard's box fails to pull him from his reverie.

Mermaids... ghosts... Krakens. He flinches again, drawing in on himself further as knowledge bloomed inside him. Images of giant eyes deep in the lightless depths, heavy tentacle limbs stretching to... Krakens.

However, the sudden advent of the massive fan manages to catch his attention by snatching his hat from his head. He jerks alert, his arm whipping out to snag the hat and clap it back on his head. He spins, adjusting the hat back to its low position, addressing the grim captain.

"Wait... what?

[The_Snark]

Adur

It feels... odd, somehow. Like a storm is about to crest the ridge. With adequate warning, Adur takes the ship's sudden lurch back into motion well, keeping his feet; he's had over a week to get his sea legs back.

He can't help but be curious about this, though; a sure way to suck him into a conversation is to mention something about the ocean he didn't know before. "You know where the dead spots are, then?" he asks Salt, not especially eager to disturb the captain. "It makes sense, I suppose, but I wouldn't have thought that any place always stayed windless."

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn


Kahlynn moves a bit out of the shadow of Darkstrider, curious as to the nature of their employer's idea of assistance. As the wind begins to pick up again, she takes a firm grip on the railing, leaning out slightly to let the quickened breeze blow her hair back.

Rest of the gear? How much could we need?

She turns her gaze outward, watching the flash of the water below with wide eyes. "What might we be looking for, Captain, if it makes all the rest pale by comparison?"

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
[Lock]

Lock was momentarily relieved that Salt's apparent nervousness was (hopefully) centered solely on the locked box which contained the feather token. That was, until the captain's pronouncement. Nodding his assent with Kahlynn and the rest of the general response, Lock re-inforced the inquiry saying, "Yes, captain, whatever the mage may have told you beforehand or in his current instructions, it benefits nobody to keep us all in the dark of what we're talking about facing here."

[blue chicken]

Covering one side of his mouth with a hand and leaning to whisper into Adur's ear, Salt speaks softly, fearing to make much noise while the captain is engaged in conversation.

"T'aint dead spots, mister. It's the Wyche's doldrums...Don't know where they are, but they's s'posed to be an ill sorta place in the ocean. Cap'n han't told us much, neither...Wyche's Mark, an' all that business. Winds're fickle. Sea spirits...somethin' about this part of the waters make 'em mean. Best not to ponder on it much...wouldn't wanna get on their bad sides, savvy? Too many questions've sunk lotsa ships."

The captain, meanwhile, turns to glower at the group over his shoulder, his serious demeanor of previous days having returned in full force. He turns back to his piloting duties without responding, and only after several minutes of continued silence does he venture to reply.

"Yerselves're knowing as much as I do. I practic'ly quoted the elf's words. That last note was just another warning to "take heed" and "be on our guard" and all that flotsam. Cryptic bastard won't come out'n say whatever it is we're facin'. Fairy tales'n hocum, if yer askin' me. Be at yer ease, but see to it it's an alert sort of ease, aye? No sense scarin' yourselves in the dark, but there's no sense wastin' your eyes seein' phantoms, either. Now shut yer mouths, if it ain't too much to ask. I've got a ship to pilot, and for all I know there could be reefs in these waters. Or somethin' worse...they don't call it the Wyche's Mark for nothing. Now off with ye! I can't abide all yer eyes on me back."

Spinning again, he fixes a glare on Sparky.

"Exceptin' you. Keep watchin' on that fan. Mebbe you can catch us somethin' for dessert, while ye're watchin', if the sea's happy with ye."

[AmoDman]

OOC: Just so we're clear, I am rolling sense motive there ;). Early to bed early to rise night for me now...check back in the morning after all my kindred night owls post :).

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[lightfoot fisherman who's ready for duty]
"Wha who me? Hot damn! You can count on me Captain!"

With renewed vigour, he casts a little longer line, watching the bobber closely.

OOC: I went ahead and made 4 Fishing rolls, scoring 12, 22, 16, 6. If more than four rolls will be needed, I'll try to make them. Woot

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Gauran Darkstrider
[Darkstrider]

Since the torrent of questions and statements from Sparky the giant wanted repeatedly to do or say something, but as events unfurled he was always kept from finally doing it.

Standing beside Kahlynn he lets out a series of unintelligible grumbles, as if crunching stones between his teeth, only bits filtering out:

"... wish there was land under my feet... grumblegrumblegrumble... Wyche's Mark... grumblegrumble... don't understand... grumblegrumblegrumble... damned ocean... grumblegrumblegrumble... ghost ships... grumblegrumble... pale by comparison... grumble... whatever..."

It would have been his longest statement ever, if it had been really coherent. It is however, absolutely clear that he would like the sea trip to end as quickly as possible. While never admitting to actually being "afraid" he is obviously disturbed.

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[halfling adventurer with a heart of gold]
Sparky pats some reachable part of Gauran (knee) supportingly. "Don't worry big guy. We won't sink. And even if we do, we'll save you. We're a party now, that's what parties do. Besides kill nasty monsters and collect tons of loot! We're on an Adventure now. Nothing can possibly go wrong. It's just like in the Stories. Everything works out in the end. You'll be on land before ya know it." He gives Gauran a big thumbs up, then bites onto a corner of his lip as he casts again in earnest. "I'll be here if you need someone to talk to, Big Guy, just gotta catch that giant sea turtle for the captain."

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[a Goliath with a hunch for stoneworks]

Sparky's statement earns him first a puzzled look and then the barest hint of a smile.

"Yes, you just go ahead and catch us that turtle - I will remember your words, little one."

He turns around to regard the open sea, searching for a hint of a coast...

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn

Kahlynn inclines her head slightly at the Captain's request, and moves her way around Darkstrider and Sparky, forward towards the foredeck. "My apologies, Captain. The last thing we wish is for you to be nervous, I'm sure."

She pats the halfling on the shoulder as she goes past, murmurs lightly. "That was well done, Sparky."

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

Nivlan begins to collect the communal dinnerware that had been used in preparing and eating the fish. There isn't much of it: most of the sailors were using their fingers and knives to tear it into bits, and the cooking had been accomplished with a minimum of fuss. Nevertheless, Nivlan scrapes and rinses the serving platter and the few bowls that remained. He slips into thought as he cleans.

I wonder if the Wyche's doldrums have anything to do with the rumors of ghost ships. Are they causally connected; does the one create the other? I suppose that even if it's nothing more than rumor, there could still be a causal connection between them. I can see how a space of dead water would give rise to stories of ghost ships--but I don't assume that they're only rumors. Maybe there's something about the phenomena that makes them connected in some manner after the fact, as if each phenomenon sought the other. Whatever creates either of them draws them together. Hm.

[KuH]

Fryst

Fryst quietly moves to the rail and starts looking over the side carefully.

[Velvet Elvis]

The evening wears on, mostly uneventfully, the moon's face blazing away as it slowly arcs across the sky, shaming the stars as they temporarily bow to its brilliance.

Sparky's efforts over the railing have netted him far less than his much desired turtle. A few rope-like fish with too many eyes and pointed jaws bearing bony ridges are the only victims of his hook. Their kind goes unrecognized even by Salt, who the crew agrees has probably seen more of the sea beyond the Wyche's Line than the rest of the crew combined. They wriggle on the deck beside the excited halfling, far longer than would be expected, but eventually succumb to the lack of water flowing across their gills, gasp violently several times, and die.

Salt remarks, "Y'should prolly throw 'em overboard, young man. They're obviously not going'ta b'good eat'n, and'll stink t'th'heights by mornin', if ye don't."

With the remainder of the evening's meal consumed or stowed and the paraphernalia likewise dealt with, Gigson relieves Jorme in the nest, with Jorme disappearing below deck for a much-deserved rest. Similarly, Salt relieves Captain Merev after some amount of hushed discussion and referencing of marks upon the wheelpost. A few mutual nods are exchanged before the captain is out of sight to his cabin beneath the poop deck. Several moments pass while Salt glares at Yorkin as he dawdles idly with his knife. The sharp snapping of the temporary pilot's rough fingers instantly catches his attention.

Startled, his eyes tilt up to meet Salt's before he nods in sudden recognition. Clearing his throat loudly enough for all to hear, Yorkin says, "Cap'n wants me t'tell ya that he figgers about a day, day 'n'a half afore we catch sight o'our destination. So ye best be gettin' some rest t'night, 'cause if these here doldrums don't break afore the fan does, we might be needin' some of ya's t'row for a bit 'til we c'n catch some air."

The melodious sound of Gigson's recorder begins again, joining the mild snapping of the sails and the quiet whooshing of the fan that continues to enable the ship to ply the dead water that surrounds her. Yorkin, following his own relayed advice, sits with his back against the rise of the cargo hold door hinges, brings his chin to his chest and quickly begins to snore.

The rest of you are left, as has been the case so far, to decide whether you wish to sleep up top--and the odd weather renders that option strangely inviting--or head below to flip coins to decide which unlucky few are sent to the makeshift hammocks strung up between heavy crates in the cargo hold, and which get to divide the five steadier ones near the prow and in the woefully inadequate aft passenger cabin.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

As has been his habit, Shael makes preparations to pass the night on deck. He moves to the bow, settling with his back in the angle between the railings, legs crossed beneath him, and his hat snugged the rest of the way down, covering his face. He folds his hands in his lap, and prepares to trance.

He waits, reluctant to sink into meditation.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
[Lock]

Lock gazed at the others on the ship as they went to their various resting places or watches. This quest they were on really did excite him, but sailors were on oddly dedicated sort, used to the regularity and monotony of their duties, that never seemed to have much of interest to say in daily conversation (not that he'd ever tell them so). Knowing they were close to their destination, to see something new, was what made it the worst. But no matter.

Sleep felt like cheating to him. It was full of missed opportunities. But regardless, he'd take his silent reprieve above deck. He didn't need much sleep, just like he didn't need much to eat, thanks to the wonderful ring he'd picked on his travels at one point to make things easier and waste less time. But seeing as how there wasn't much to do, Lock decides to sleep at least a few hours.

Lock spread his roll on a nice, small spot he'd found an earlier evening between some tacked down crates and cabin wall. His gnome body just fit in the niche, which made it secure and comfortable for him. Gazing at the stars, he let his thoughts wander, but still couldn't help but keep his ears peeled to the sounds around him. Never let your senses wander, not until the last possible moment. That was one habit he found hard to break even if and when he wanted to. That's what happens when you become stuck in your ways, comfortable with one spot and the others around you. Lock had yet to meet someone that made him feel comfortable with that idea.

OOC: Sorry about the overly intro-spective post. Sometimes the keyboard just goes ;).

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[bleary-eyed little adventurer with a Plan]
Sparky stifles a yawn with his hand, then blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. "You betcha Salt. But I'm not gonna waste them all the same. I'm gonna try setting out a long line, and see if I can't use these to catch something good for tomorrow." He pulls out his fishing gear and begins carefully tying his extra hooks into a long section of fishing line. After the line is set, he carefully slices the ugly fish up, mindful of their enormous spinities. He slides the bait on the hooks and then casts the line over the aft rail. Finally, he ties the line to the rail with a serious of expert knots, and tugs just to make sure. "Well, Mister Gigson, I hope I don't catch that turtle tonight. But some nice cod wouldn't be bad."

Sparky kicks around deck for a place to sleep, checking to make sure Shael isn't too close to the gunwale. He skips drowsily over to Lock's Niche, waves g'night to the still wary gnome, then turns for the ratlines. A few seconds and he's as far aloft as he can get, scurrying through up the ropes like a squirrel. Hanging from the edge, he flips inside and waves to Gigson. "Is there room enough for my bedroll up here, Mister Gigson? I can take last watch if you want. I know Kahlynn and Nivlan will be up early and I want to pull that long line in before they need the aft rail for their prayers. I don't *yawn* know a lot about *yawn* Pelor, but he sounds ... really sleepy."

Presuming there won;t be too much trouble with sharing the small space, Cause I'm pretty small m'self, Sparky pulls out his sleeping bag and kneels down beside it. He folds his small hands and bows his head earnestly in silent prayer. After a long minute, he slides inside his sleeping bag and quickly falls asleep. C'mon Sparky ... we're going to Candy Mountain. No no, I don't want to go to Candy Mountain...His brows furrow in concentration as he sleeps, silent but far from done with his daily dose of adventure.

[The_Snark]

Adur

Adur, too, decides he is going to sleep on deck; sleeping indoors still feels oddly confining to him, though the ship's constant motion and the noise of the waves helps. The warmth makes covering all but unnecessary, and it is this novelty that persuades him to stay out. Out of habit, he chooses a place that will be out of the wind—and hopefully, out of the crew's way, stretching out on the side of the ship towards the stern, against the rail.

He lies awake there for a few minutes, thinking about what Salt had talked about. Sea spirits; he couldn't work whether this was more of the sailor's superstition or not, but he had no doubt they existed, for why should the sea not have its protectors as the land did? Whether they were the cause of the doldrums, who could say? Secreted under the sea as they were, he could hardly find them to ask...

Listening to the beating of the fan and thinking, he drifted off to sleep.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn


Kahlynn sighs a bit wistfully, watching the party members bunk down comfortably on various parts of the deck. She pulls her cloak a bit tighter about her, and heads for the passenger cabin as a long list of governesses and nannies scream about propriety and maidenly modesty in her head.
Well there aren't going to be any private rooms where we're going, are there? Best get accustomed to it now.

She squares her shoulders, turns and settles herself against a spool of rope amidships. Tucking herself out of the way as much as possible, she closes her eyes and mouths a soft prayer. "SunLord, watch over Your Children and those that travel in their company. Protect us from the Dark that we may spread Your light to all souls." She pauses, head tilted slightly to one side as if waiting for an answer. When none is forthcoming she bows her head in acceptance, pulls her cloak tight around her and does her best to forget she is surrounded by virtual strangers in the midst of an unknown sea ... without a governess in sight.

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[adrift on a sea of dreaming]
Across the fetid valley, seething with the scent of marsh and ancient decay, steady booming drummed. Impossibly large drums, or impossibly loud, every step, every thought was filled with their deep thrum. Unseen, scaled hands beat down relentlessly on wide skins made of human, halfling, gnome, and elf. The party stopped to stare across the patchwork quilt of tiny grass islands and broad expanses of greenish water. Sparky walked nervously to the lead, and pointed at an otherwise unremarkable hummock amidst the jungle swamp. "There, guys. That's where I saw it in my dream. If we want to find the lost city in the swamp, we need to go look there. And we need the Amulet too." Sparky went ahead, with the others shaking their heads doubtfully. the view snapped up suddenly, so that he could see straight down at himself, walking and swimming towards the tiny island. From above, the tiny island was just the very tip of a far larger structure, and buried in the mud and grass all around them, structures even larger and more ancient. Beneath the waves, scaled bodies slid soundlessly towards the hapless adventurers.

Sparky jerks awake with a sudden start, gasping for breath as he lay entangled in his sleeping bag. His heart hammers in his tiny chest as he looks around in a near panic, until he spots the sailor on watch. "Oh! Thank goodness. We're still aboard the Dancing Karil. There's still time to ... I mean, I can take a watch now if you want. What time is it anyways?" Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he dextrously slips out of the sleeping bag and rolls it back up to be stowed away neatly with his other gear. "And when do we eat. I'm starved!" His grin returns firmly in place as he laces up his boots, already whistling a cheery sea shanty. "...and the main truck carried off both me legs..."

[KuH]

Fryst

Look at you all! Someone talks about sleep, and you all just bunk down, just like that, counting on one watchman to keep you awake. You wouldn't survive for more than a few minutes in the jungle!!

If you want, I can train you all in setting up a campsite and a watch for the night ... if we're going to be together for long enough for it to matter.

For instance, right now there are eight of us ... and I think some of you only need to sleep for a few hours each night, based on what I have seen to date? Fryst glances at the elf in the bow. So we could probably arrange to have three of us stay awake at any one time. For instance, the two-hour nappers can go first while I watch, and then I can sleep while they make sure we have at least two people on watch.

Whatever the response, Fryst stays awake on deck until he feels that good watches are set up ... and he will take the first watch.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

Shael shifts slightly, without rising, in the bow. He slides back his hat, with a lay hand, revealing the emerald glitter of the eyes below. His voice lacks enthusiasm—the slow, offhand drawl of the half-asleep.

"This isn't a jungle, however. I see no reason to take precautions as if it were. As for a watch, it seems that these able mariners have the situation... well in hand."

[KuH]

Fryst

Fyrst looks over at Shael and snorts. One moment we are talking about ghost ships, krakens and witches ... and the next we are falling asleep with a minimal watch?

Do we expect that a sea-witch will wait until morning when we are all refreshed to come calling? Or that she will not know simple magics like a sleep or charm spell to fell those on watch?

If a couple of sailors could keep watch and guard against all the dangers here, would ships disappear in this zone?

Fryst snorts again, as he settles in to watch.


[OOC: after a couple of hours watch Fryst will wake whoever seems most trustworthy for the next watch, and will then fall asleep on the deck]

[Velvet Elvis]

Sparky flips inside and waves to Gigson. "Is there room enough for my bedroll up here, Mister Gigson? I can take last watch if you want. I know Kahlynn and Nivlan will be up early and I want to pull that long line in before they need the aft rail for their prayers. I don't *yawn* know a lot about *yawn* Pelor, but he sounds ... really sleepy."

The crow's nest is barely broad enough to accommodate Gigson comfortably, but just the same, he tacitly welcomes Sparky's company, and adjusts his own position farther to the nest's coaming to make room. Knowing the halfling's propensity for chatter, the sailor refrains from using words that might ignite a torrent in return, and manages to convey his agreement with a few nods and a smile as the halfling yawns himself to sleep.

~~

Sparky jerks awake with a sudden start, gasping for breath as he lay entangled in his sleeping bag. His heart hammers in his tiny chest as he looks around in a near panic, until he spots the sailor on watch. "Oh! Thank goodness. We're still aboard the Dancing Karil. There's still time to ... I mean, I can take a watch now if you want. What time is it anyways?"

Gigson regards Sparky with raised eyebrows followed by a hearty laugh which finds one hand on his belly and the other gripping a short iron spar jutting from the narrow mast at the back of the nest.

"Ye be only sleepin' for a half'n hour, at best, m'boy. Maybe ye ain't used to the bob'n'sway up this high?" Gigson shrugs, and adds, "If'n ye want t'be stayin' up here, it be fine with me, but be ready t'drop back down t'th'deck by dawn when Jorme's eyes'll be takin' over. He don't like no one else in his perch when 'e's up here. Now get back t'sleep, young'un. Me'n ye both wouldn't want me t'miss another Kraken due t'talkin' too much, now would we?"

Gigson resumes his watchful duties, his gaze shifting from spot to spot in what is, for all intents and purposes, a nearly pitch black sea save for the shimmer of moonlight upon the calm surface.

~~

Fryst's rather animated cajoling of his fellow passengers has awakened Yorkin at some point, though he remained motionless, eyes closed. However, at Fryst's last remark, the half-toothed sailor's tired eyes snap open and quickly catch the halfling's own.

In a careful, low voice, he says, "Best ye keep that sorta talk away from Jorme and Gig. We ain't been keep'd alive 'cause they can't be trusted. Both's got eagle's eyes and keen hearin'. Y'ain't got nothin' t'worry 'bout." His eyes close again almost as soon as the last word was spoken. As if to emphasize the notion that his words weren't an invitation to debate, he rolls to one side leaving Fryst to gaze at the back of his rather grimy heavy-thread tunic.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

Nivlan is about to offer Fryst whatever help he needs when Yorkin gruffly warns the halfling to watch what he says.

"Are things that bad where you're from, Fryst?" Nivlan asks in a soft tone. "I'm guessing that the dead water is the primary reason for all the stories. I would think that it leaves a ship very vulnerable; and if the sailors can't row their way out of it, there's no returning for them even if no sea monsters get them."

"But if you'd feel better with an extra watch set, I'm willing to do what's needed. I've hunted at odd hours, so I don't mind awakening to the dark. If I don't get enough sleep, though, I'll probably feel it in the morning. If that's what it takes to give you peace of mind, I don't mind helping you out."

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

The wind tore across the burnt battlefield. Smoking, charred banners spasmed and ripped from their slanting poles, rising like half-eaten monuments to the dead that strewed the pitted ground. A fetid stench assailed his nostrils as he scanned the terrain for any foes still standing.

There. Movement. Something was striding over the rise, stepping casually over the bodies of fallen demons. Its broad shoulders were framed by massive white wings, folded tightly and glistening in the sun. The blasted planetar could manage to look pretty even after six hours of savage, back-and-forther fighting. It was ridiculous.

"Damn!" his voice was alien, yet familiar, in his ears.

Without thinking, without straining, he tapped the power within him and winked out of existence. For a moment, hazy, swirling darkness engulfed him, and then it resolved into the same scene, from a different angle. He now stood behind the planetar, and perhaps a mere twenty yards distant. He crouched behind the massive corpse of a hezrou, peering over its broad, gouged shoulders.

The power pulsed inside him, flowing through his veins and dancing green sparks across his vision. He drew his fist back. Green, eldritch lightning sprung into being, dancing about his fist in a knot of pure power. He hurled it.

It streaked through the air, not arcing or curving, and exploded against the celestial's back. Another followed a mere fraction of a second behind. Both exploded in heatless, soundless flashes, the lightning dancing across the angel's flesh and wings. It spun, its massive mace lashing out to strike a foe that wasn't there, completely unharmed. Its gaze snapped from where it expected its foe to be to meet his gaze.

"Ah."

The angel roared at the top of its lungs, and surged into the air. Its wings unfurled, blocking the reddish-orange sun, low on the far horizon, and its mace glowed and sung as it spun through the air, a single word, a name burst from its snarling mouth. "MARIX!"

Shael started awake. His hat sliding from his head and into his lap. His green eyes wide, he shook himself, forcing the resounding name out of his thoughts. He shivered, scooping his hat from his lap and settling it back on his head. He gripped the railing for support, and hauled himself to his feet, breathing heavily.

Not... my memories. Why can you not sleep when I sleep? Have you no need of rest? Realizing too late he'd asked a direct question, he closed his eyes and crammed down hard with his will, forcing down the beginnings of a reply.

He raised his head from the water under the prow, and stared out ahead of the ship once more.

[blue chicken]

Players-Sorry to cut any RP short, but Velvet and I thought it would be best to keep the plot moving. Didn't want to bore you. If you feel the need to post a retro-active segment at the beginning of your next post, feel free. Just make sure you note that it happened during the night.

Which her crew gradually drifting off to sleep and watches reporting nothing out of the ordinary, the Dancing Karil's continues its voyage through the tropical night without incident.

Near dawn, Gigson nudges Sparky awake with a foot.

"Up now, little sardine. 'S close to time fer Jorme t'take his watch, and I warned ye earlier. An' I think I saw those lines o' yours twitch a coupla minutes ago. Best check 'em in case somethin' slips away, eh?"

Meanwhile, down on the deck, Captain Merev peers over the prow of the ship, gazing into the distance from his position at the wheel. Having relieved Salt several hours before, he's resumed his signature position at the wheel. At intervals he casts worried glances over his shoulder, noting with some concern that the once well-fledged fan now appears to be shedding its feathers. Chewing his lower lip, he continues to ply the waves, muttering prayers to obscure sea deities for speed, a fresh breeze, and a helpful tide.

Eventually, the sultry air that has enfolded the Karil for the last several days seems to grow moister, cooling down as the vessel continues to cruise, though albeit at a reduced pace due to the somewhat threadbare condition of its magical propulsion. With the moisture comes a reduced temperature as well, and just as dawn begins to break the beginnings of a mist begin to coalesce. A lazy breeze snaps the limp, heavy sails of the ship. Though not enough to propel the bulk of the Karil at any real speed, the meager gust is more than the crew has felt for many hours. A muted cry of "Breeze, ho!" echoes down from the crow's nest, just as Jorme exits from belowdecks and makes his way toward the mast below the crow's nest.

On the main deck, Captain Merev catches the call and returns the hail.

"Thank ye kindly, Mister Gigson. Good to know 'm not imaginin' things...gonna be a good day, watchman."

Sighting on the bright splotch on the horizon that will soon rise as the sun and comparing it against a small compass he removes from another thin chain about his neck, Merev makes a minor course adjustment, bringing the Dancing Karil a few degrees around to compensate for drift and misnavigation in the dark. As he does so, another gust of fresher air billows the other sails of the vessel for a moment before dying away, eliciting a chorus of welcome creaking from the spars and timbers.

Standing alone, Merev thanks whatever force saw fit to grant his request, and allows himself a genuine smile.

"Gonna be a good day fer sure..."

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[a lightfoot rogue with a heart of gold]
Sparky blinks awake at the nudge and rolls out of his sleeping back again, following the same careful procedure in putting it away as he has every time he gets up. Once it's all secure, he shrugs his backpack on and fits his small rapier and shortsword into his belt. With a nod and thumbs up to Gig, Sparky vaults over the rail and clambers down the ropes as quickly as he ascended. He gives a smart salute to the Captain and waves to Jorme. After that, it's a full sprint to the aft rail and the twitching line. True to Gigson's word, the line has caught a decent bounty. He pulls the line in and sets the fish out of the way but far from freedom. "You got that right, Captain. Look at what I caught! Better go get these belowdecks. Maybe we can still have them for breakfast. Don't worry, I'm up for watch now, I won't be belowdecks for long." He scampers down the hatch carrying his wriggling fish with him, grinning all the way.

OOC: Not sure exactly what sparky caught, but the totals were 26, 10, 22, 21, 20. And that first one was a Natural 20. Woot!

[blue chicken]

Belowdecks, Sparky encounters Salt stoking the small cooking fire with sea coal. Looking up, the old hand smiles faintly, his eyes going down to the still-moving fish dragging the timbers on the line behind his visitor.

"Hold it there, little matey. Whatcha' got there up? Let old Salt have a looksee."

Bending down, he takes the improvised stringer from the gleeful halfing and holds it up, scrutinizing the gyrating fish in the wan light of the dim flames. The scales gleam darkly, and the the whole mess spins slowly as the ship rocks underfoot.

"Hm...lookin' like...ah...a good-sized dorado. Surprisin' catch, for water this deep...an'...what's this other'n, then?"

He bends closer, sniffing the gasping fish. Still befuddled, he extends his tongue and gives the scaly flank an experimental lick. He pulls back, holding the fish at arm's length, tilting his head and smacking his lips. His eyes light up abruptly, as though he's remembering something from long ago. He smiles again.

"Skipjack. Wunnerful little fishy fer eatin'. I'm guessin' ye don't mind if'n I fry 'em up for brekix, does ya, shrimpy?"

Tossing Sparky a wink, he hefts the stringer appreciatively.

"Big catch fer such a little fella. Wait there fer a minute'r two."

Moving with practiced ease, Salt's tough old hands easily tear the hooks out of the papery skin they're lodged in before slapping the weakly struggling fish atop a counter and lopping their heads off with a single strike from a large cleaver. After quickly gutting them and tossing the whole mess of heads and entrails into a bucket, he winks again and offers back to the hooks, line, and stinking mess of not-fish.

"There now. I'll have 'em burned up nice in no time. There's some what say ol' Salt's not worth a damn as a cook these days...jus' wrong, though. I'm the best there is on this little boat."

Gesturing for Sparky to leave, he begins rummaging among the spices and seasonings above the counter and muttering to himself. Looking back to see the halfling still lingering, he gestures again.

"Well? Git! That slop don't belong in here...dump it o'er the side and use the eyeballs as bait."

[KuH]

Fryst

I appreciate the DMs moving things along. Don't worry about me and my nonsense.

Fryst yawns and stretches in the morning, after having taken Nivlan's offer the night before (you stay alive by being too careful, rather than not careful enough as he stated in handing over the watch though make sure you only stay up a couple of hours - no point in being too tired the next morning to do anything).

He strolls back to little Sparky. Hey Sparky - if you see a poison fish, don't be in too much of a hurry to throw it back. I might be able to glean something useful from it. I traded in all my stock in Dordekort, and I have some dry blowpipe darts.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

The elf has retreated from his perch in the bow, surrendering to the stinging salt spray and brisk, salty breeze. He lounges against the cabin, sheltering in its shadow, and toying idly with a long-bladed knife, produced from somewhere in his coat. He's unlaced the collar of his shirt, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on the pale skin of his chest, a stark contrast to his face—its high cheekbones and large, hawklike nose now tanned after more than a week of sea and sun.

Much longer on this ship and I'll be salted thoroughly enough to last a dozen winters in a cellar. The dagger makes a small thump as it lands point down in the deck between his boots, adding another shallow nick to the deck planks. He stares at it, considering its dark pommel for a moment before plucking it free with dainty fingers.

Why do we—I—even carry a knife, much less a sword? Is there really... He forces that train of thought to a halt. Not his. He carried weapons to defend himself, like any other adventurer. He rolls the knife's hilt between his hands, crinkled from the salty spray, staring at the softly glimmering blade in contemplation. Adventurer? I suppose we are—I am—at that.

He pays passers-by no mind at all, allowing the crew to go about there work, and ignoring the small commotion Sparky's catch elicits. The only time his attention shifts from the knife is to cast occasional glances off the bow, hoping for a glimpse of the land the sailor's say is out there.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

The sun comes too early for Nivlan, sleeping in a protected area near the poopdeck. Its rays were diffused by the developing mist, creating a pervasive glow that pries apart his eyelids and dazzles him when his eyes crack open. He twists and stretches as he reluctantly sits up. I knew this would happen, so there's no point in acting surprised by it. It's been long enough that the novelty's worn off; and I'm beginning to pine for clean sheets and a comfortable hearthside chair. They'll be a long time coming, though.

He spends a few seconds looking for Fryst, who is no longer sleeping between the coils of rope where Nivlan had left him last night. The halfling's voice comes from the other side of the poop, energetic enough that it's obvious he slept well. I'm glad I could do that for him. We'll probably all need to get into the habit of it, I'm sure, once we reach our destination. He grew up in the jungle? I wonder where. His instincts will be invaluable if half of what that mage said is true.

Nivlan blinks slowly and scrubs the sleep from his eyes. The light is still too strong, even diluted by the haze. Yes, yes, Lord: you've roused me to my prayers. Give me a minute, if you will. He climbs up onto the poop and seats himself facing off the stern, then begins his prayers.

OOC: We're headed due west, right? And the sun rises in the east and sets in the west in this world?

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
[Lock]

Lock was up before most. He shouldn't have been, there wasn't much to do...but he couldn't help it. He re-focused himself from the whole spell he'd cast the previous day. He was beginning to feel wasted an unchallenged...but he couldn't let that take over him. This trip on a ship was cake...that's just what bugged him, cake was boring.

When the elf woke up he nearly jumped out of his clothes. It was somewhat entertaining and Lock considered looking further into the enigma that was Shael...but for the being Lock decided that it was best to leave his fellow "adventurers" alone.

Going to the stern, Lock now smells the fresh breeze coming at the ship. If nothing else, he has that. He'd hardly realized how much he missed it. It would be wonderful to be lifted up in the air with that breeze,he thinks, and when he sees Adur arising nearby he considers, I wonder if that druid has any magic to do that...nothing like the practical magic the gnomes of Gon's Fate were always obsessed with breaking down, analyzing, and bottling for money.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn

It was a bit of a shock when she woke, moments before the sun's face appeared over the watery horizon. She hadn't expected to do more than catch fragments of sleep, but even the hard deck and upright position hadn't hindered her rest. With a small smile she rose gracefully to her feet, turning like a flower's face to the east.
"Thank you, Pelor, for granting us such a glorious day, and for guiding us safely through both the dark of night and the perils of this unknown place." She keeps her voice low, disliking the idea of offending those who do not share her beliefs- misguided though they might be.
She takes a long moment to bask in the warmth of the rising sun, finding herself renewed and cheered immensely. It was, indeed, going to be an excellent day.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Gauran Darkstrider

Having slept his usual 2 hours Gauran is up quite early, way before sunrise. He listens to Frysts remarks with appreciation, and before going to sleep takes his first lesson in campsetting.

For the rest of the time he keeps a serious watch, finally joining Kahlynn at the aft railing as always.

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[happy-go-lucky halfling fisherman]
Sparky gives Salt a big thumbs up and skips to the deck, bounding up the ladder with his bucket of slops. Swinging by Kahlynn and Nivlan and Gauran at the rail, he tilts the bucket just slightly so they can see the gruesome contents. With a mischievious grin he declares "Salt says breakfast is ready. You guys should go get yours before we run out of eyeballs!" He giggles excitedly and jumps up onto one of the side rails, then fishes out the eyeballs. With a dramatic flourish, he upends the remaining slops into the briny depths.

"Don't worry Fryst, if I find any poison fish they're all yours. But I totally call dibs on any magic rings or boots. I remember all these stories where fishermen find magic rings inside fishes and catch magical boots and sometimes even magic swords. Hmmm... nah! Boots are way better. Most magic swords are bigger than me anyways!" With a cheerful whistle, he pops the fish eyes onto fishhooks and sets up his line to troll behind the ship.

Once the line is bobbing along behind them, he turns back to the prayerful trio at the aft railing and laughingly admits "Alright alright, that wasn't breakfast... but you have to admit it looks an awful lot like our dinner did last night!"

[KuH]

Fryst

After stretching, Fryst looks appreciatively at Gauran. It's good to know that you need so little sleep. I'll watch during your rest, and then you can take the remainder of the night, with whoever else. Between the two of us, we should be able to protect our companions. You remind me of the only entity that ever defeated me in the pits ... and he seemed good-hearted like you, not killing me when he had the chance.

Fryst smiles at Sparky's nonsense how wonderful to see someone joyful and light-hearted like that, without having to play pranks on others. He almost reminds me of ... reminds me of ... all of a sudden Fryst's eyes cloud over and he starts to glower. He turns towards the rail and grips it tightly, white knuckles showing up on his left hand, and the claw actually gouging it a little with his right.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[a low and menacing grumble indicating a desire (no need) for food...]

Having offered his prayers Gauran listens to Fryst's comments.

"I am sure we will find a way to offer secure shelter to our group if you teach me more of this. It is a very clever way of preparing a perimeter out in the wilderness. I admit that the notion of such a cooperation is absolutely new to me, as I have been travelling alone for some years, now. I never had the option of cooperation - I hope I will adapt your teachings quickly."

Quirking an eyebrow at Fryst's last statements, he asks:

"What is those "pits" you're talking about?"

[KuH]

Fryst

Fryst takes a moment to regain control of himself.

I fought for a while for the amusement of others. In the pits. I had forgotten what I was living for ... and now that I love life again I keep careful watch at night he finishes off with a lame attempt at a joke, and a semi-awkward smile.

[Velvet Elvis]

The initial light wind the Karil's sails capture seem to have no appreciable effect on her speed, but all aboard can feel its force bearing due west across the sails, which have been tacked somewhat to guide her a bit northwest. Before the sun has crawled high enough to detach itself from the mist-hazed horizon, the last of the fan's feathers flutters away on the breeze. Though the ship palpably slows, its motion remains as steady as the wind and she continues to make headway at several knots.

Something shy of a half-hour later, Salt and Gigson emerge from the crew cabin stairwell bearing several bowl-shaped platters laden with fish filets in varying shades of pink and brown. Gigson shouts, "Breakfast ye mateys! Courtesy of Sparky th'master fisherman!" Both make their way to the cargo hold's double-doored hatch where they place the heavy platters side-by-side, securing small dowels at strategic points within the covering lattice to ensure the plates stay in position as the boat rolls with the low waves.

The aroma is decidedly exotic, Salt having invested this meal with some of his personal cache of rare spices collected from numerous far-away ports he'd visited long years before. It lures Jorme from his perch, but only at an agreeable nod from Captain Merev. Though the mist was thickening slowly, visibility was still good and a brief respite from the crow's nest would mean little with so many eyes aboard.

Yorkin fairly dashes to amidship and drops to a crosslegged position, quickly securing himself a fat filet of pale pink, seasoned skipjack, while Jorme opts for a slab of herbed dorado. Salt, contrary to what his outward appearance might expect of him, separates a slice of each of the various filets into a deep oval dish and serves it to Captain Merev, who responds with a nod and an oddly sincere word of thanks. Returning to the cargo hatch, Salt satisfies himself with a wedge of thick, dark red filet.

Already half-done with his own choice, Yorkin inquires, "What be that 'un, mate?" To which Salt replies, "Not sure t'be exact, but I be thinkin' it's somethin' akin to white rembo, what with its striped up sides'n all. Ye 'member, eh? We's had some when we ported at North Bayside last summer. They's said it was 'spensive, tho I didn't figger it from th'taste. This seems better t'me, I'd say. Try it fer yerself."

Salt takes another bite, then pokes a finger into the air as if remembering something. He dashes quickly belowdecks, or at least as quickly as his old bones could manage, and soon reappears toting a large bowl filled with green orbs and atop them, a little object shaped like a fish's tail. When the bowl is placed with the platters, the green orbs resolve themselves to be limes, small, hard ones, and inordinately sour, but those are the types that weather these conditions best.

"Ye best all be having' at least one'o them limes, jus' in case. They be good on the fish, o'course, too," says Salt with a sage-like air to his voice. The crew each take one, Jorme taking two explaining that he likes the way the sour makes him shiver.

The item atop the limes appears to be a charm of some sort on a short cord. Salt grabs it up and tosses it to Sparky. "I bet ye din't notice th'little fishy hanging at the end o'yer line, eh? Rare sort, but no good for eatin'. Down at a port called Girmet ab't halfways down th'coast'a Cozten, their draggin' boats sometimes net one'er two and they fetch a price as good luck tokens. Never learn'd why, tho, but I figgerd ye might like t'have it as a keepsake o'th'trip. Oh, an' they call them fishies brownboots fo' th'markin' on their tail fins." With the explanation out of the way, Salt begins to eat in earnest.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

His prayers are not quite finished when Salt brings up breakfast. With the wind blowing from the stern, Nivlan can't smell it--not over the briny smell of the sea, anyway--but the satisfied remarks of the crew indicate that it's a meal worth sharing.

"Teach me your ways and keep me from darkness," he prays in conclusion. "Satisfy me with righteousness and fill my hands with gifts to share. By your sign."

He stands, knees unbending slowly from his hour-long sitting position. After giving his legs a shake to renew circulation, he bounds down the steps to the main deck. "Ooh! Looks good, Salt. So this is your work, Sparky? Thank you. Yes, I'll take one of those." He seats himself and begins sating his appetite on the hot flesh. "I love it fresh. Mmm. It doesn't have that strong smell that brined or cured fish gets. Anybody ever have that one type of lye-dipped fish? Uck. I can't even believe that people eat that stuff."

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[lightfoot lightheart]
Sparky peeks up from his wooden bowl, already scraping the sides with his crusty hard tack. "Really, Salt? Wow, that is so great! I always wanted to catch a new pair of boots, but I never knew they'd be fishes. Or just one of 'em!" He looks the little fish charm over carefully, memorizing the details of fin coloration and scale size. He slides the cord over his neck and gives it an experimental tug. He hops up to his feet and brings his wooden bowl over to where faster sailors have already stacked their empties. Brow furrowing in concentration, he sets his bowl down and makes straight for the Captain. "Sir. I think you and your crew should keep the brownboot. If it's good luck, you and your ship might have more need of it than we will. Especially if Mister Salt keeps cooking for you," he adds with a wink and thumbs up to the afore-mentioned cook. "We're gonna miss you guys, once we get wherever we're going. Anyways, I hope you'll take it to remember us, and for good luck." He takes his newly-received gift and offers it to the Captain, looking as earnest and solemn as he has since the trip began.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

Shael chuckles thinly under his breath as he approaches the platters. The halfling's childlike sincerity in the useless gift was laughable. If noble.

"My compliments to the chef," he announces, without conviction, as he sizes up the meal from a short distance away.

He absently wipes his knifeblade on his dark pants before selecting a juicy slice of slipjack, and depositing it in his bowl. He plucks a lime from the bowl, staring at it with some consternation before spearing it on his knife. He twists the blade, and what juice there is inside runs down the blade with a faint squelch, dripping onto the meat. He watches the juice drip, before flicking the lime off his knife and over the side, and retreating from the group to resume his seat in the shadow of the cabin, wiping his knifeblade clean as he does so.

Acid. Probably good for the blade as well as being... flavorful? His thin-lipped mouth twists with the first bite—the bitter lime biting fiercely. The salt already crusted on his lips adding additional flavor to the already well-seasoned fish. Seafood. I can only hope the sailors have some of that... grog? Brandy? I could do with something stiff.

Shaking his head, he takes another bite.

[The_Snark]

Adur

Adur rises after sunrise, later than he usually does; he is tired, but the smell of fish drags him from his rest as surely as the halfling's line dragged them from the water.

He joins the others for breakfast, selecting a platter of skipjack. Good, he thinks to himself, chewing. Near as good as that sinkfish. He takes one of the limes as the platter is brought up, cutting it open with a knife and squeezing it over the remains of the fish; he has learned that they're rather bitter for eating alone. Amazing, he muses over the fish, how quickly one becomes accustomed again to cutting food with a knife and seasoning it. Perhaps civilization is not so gone from me as I'd thought.

He smiles. "Good to have the wind at our backs again," he comments by way of good morning to the others. "How was the night?"

[KuH]

Fryst

Fryst comes over for one of the last pieces of the dorado, as well as a bit of skipjack. He sniffs his fish with interest, before delicately fileting it with his claw and eating with obvious gusto, licking his lips when he is done. He then takes the lime, slices it into pieces, and chews the whole thing, skin and all, making a ferocious grimace as he does so over the bitterness, but continuing nonetheless. When he finishes bits of lime skin get spat over the rails.

Fryst looks sadly at Sparky as he speaks about the gift. "Hssst" he whispers "if you ever come down to Cozten, never refuse a gift - it insults the giver. Instead, give a gift of your own back again, however small."

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn

Kahlynn moves amidships, giving an appreciative gaze to the variety of fish laid out for them. "Sparky, you caught all those? They look much better than what you let go." She pats his shoulder as she goes past, and selects a modest plate to break her fast. "Any chance we'll sight land today, Captain?" She glances apprehensively at the thickening mist. "I do pray that clears up, or we won't see much of anything, will we?"

[Avernaith]

Sparky

He furrows his brow even deeper in thought as he considers Fryst's words. then he quietly turns to the other halfling and whispers "I thought about that too, but I think Salt will understand. Mostly I was just worried about them making it back home without us to help them." He looks over towards Kahlynn questioningly. She's the wisest one here...except maybe Nivlan, but, oh Kahlynn, what's more important? Manners or protecting people you like? The answer plays across his face, along with a slight bit of indecision. His hand still extends towards the Captain.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn

She watches the interaction between the two halflings, so very dissimilar despite their races, and clears her throat gently. "I would say, ... well, if asked ... that the gift was received in good spirit and then passed on with great charity, so as to give offense to no one. At least, back home, I mean ..."
She takes her plate, balanced carefully on one hand, and kneels next to Fryst. "It was very decent of you to tell us about the practices in ... Cozten, is it? I hope you'll continue to share your experience with all of us." She moves to take a seat on a coil of rope, tucking her hair behind her ears as she prepares to eat. "We all have a great opportunity to learn so much..."

[KuH]

Fryst

Fryst turns to look at Kahlynn. "I wonder if I overstepped by sharing my experience. But Sparky just reminds me so much of my little sister, I just can't help but feel protective and big brothery towards him."

"Yes, I am from Cozten, which is probably as strange to you as your lands are to me. I suppose I have a few stories and practices to share, though much is from the jungles and the wilds. Although I did spend a year within one of our cities, though in rather uncivilized surroundings. It's amazing, I often find people more barbaric in cities than in the jungle."

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[sombre lumber]

After remembering the song of the Dawncallers Gauran is drawn to the breakfast convention, although he only takes a very little bit of fish, just for the taste.

"You are getting quite good at this, Sparky. And compliments to the chef."

He listens quietly to Fryst's comment on Sparky's gift, as well as the remarks of Kahlynn.

So many differences... to think that there was a time that I only knew the Dwarfs... and now they are the only ones absent...

Immediately drawn to the prow after tasting the food, he takes a lime on the way and swallows it wholly in one bite.

[blue chicken]

Act I, Scene III: The Plot (and Fog) Thickens (couldn't resist, sorry.)

Turning from the wheel, Captain Merev can't help but smile at the good-hearted halfling's generosity. Chuckling, he turns back to the fore and makes a minor course correction before responding.

"Hold fast there, little matey. Ye think ol' Cap'n Merev's sailed fer so long without a little luck of his own? Eh? What d'ya take me fer, Shrimp?"

Still smiling, he snakes a hand into his inner shirt, drawing out yet another chain nestled amongst the various others. His grin nearly splits his face in two as he draws a small item out and gives it a shake on the thin metal links suspending it.

"Got me own right here. Half the crew've prob'ly got 'em too, stashed away somewheres. So keep that 'un fer yerself. I reckin you'll be needin' the luck at least as much as those of us playin' passenger boat...no hard feelings, Sparky me boy."

Taking a hand off the wheel to close the halfling's small hand around the token, and then to pat him on his (very low) shoulder a few times before going back to his headings and course corrections. He mutters softly to himself a few times, and his eyes begin to narrow.

Elsewhere on the deck, Salt smiles to himself, soaking in all of the compliments to his cooking, nodding in appreciation or speaking a few words of thanks in return to each. His eyebrows shoot up at the site of the Goliath's speed-ingestion of the citrus fruit, and he mumbles a few words of admiration as the huge creature lumbers past. He shakes his head slowly and heads belowdecks with the last remnants of the meal, meaning to deposit them in the galley and leave them for someone else to clean, as is his wont.

Hearing the druid's question, followed closely by Kahlynn's, Merev steps away from the wheel entirely, first flicking a small locking peg into place around both sides of the wheel's bottom spoke to hold the vessel steady. His brows still creased, he takes a few strides over to the railing and fishes out his compass. Gazing at it for a few seconds in evident irritation, he snaps it shut violently and shoves it back down his shirt. Extending his neck, he looks in turn to the for'ard and aft sections, chewing his lip with a scowl on his face as he marks the now-mostly-obscured sun and turns back to consult the wheel. Shaking his head in confusion, he calls out to one of his crew.

"Mister Yorkin! Depth reading, if you please. At the double!"

The barked order sends Yorkin scurrying, and in seconds he's reeling a thinly weighted line over the side, taking care to hold it to adjust for the ship's meager speed and counting the knots as they slip below the surface. A moment later he answers.

"She's lookin' like 'bout three'n ten fathoms, Cap'n. That's a shallower draft than we've had under our keel fer days. Must be getting close ta some kind o' land."

Still shaking his head, the Captain consults his compass again, snapping it shut with even more violence after an even briefer period of consultation. Striding back to the wheel with heavy-booted paces, he kicks both holding pegs back to the free position and wets a finger in his mouth. Holding it up to read the wind, he grabs the wheel and gives it a quarter-spin, catching it and holding the vessel on its new course. At length he turns to Adur, making a visible effort to wipe the scowl from his face before addressing him.

"Fine nighttime, matey, and the wind's well enough, too. Lookit this mess, though! Don't know where it's comin' from. Fogs out on the deeps are usually big 'n clumpy, like...you come up on 'em all of a sudden. They don't wrap these damned little cloudies around you a little at a time. Somethin's just strange."

Turning to Kahlynn, his expression softens further.

"As fer you, little missy...I'll be doin' my best to see if I can't sight somethin' or other for ye today. I wouldn't get my hopes up, though. Elven bastard's directions're vaguer than map by a blind cartographer. Him'n his damned fancy seerin' ain't worth much once yer out on the water. But then...fog like this'd throw off just about any respect-"

His tirade ends abruptly, cut off by a cry from the crow's nest, where Jorme has once again taken up residence.

"Fogbank ahead, Cap'n! Comin' on fast an' sudden,and lookin' thicker than curdled goat's milk up ahead! One of the big un's, Cap'n!"

This annoucement promptly elicitcs a muffled growl from Merev, followed by a series of orders to reef the sails and tighten up all the lines. A few minutes of frantic scurrying later, the vessel's main sails are neatly trimmed, and the secondary lateens and other spare canvas folded away entirely. Addressing the whole vessel again, Merev lets loose a new series of commands.

"Douse all the lights exceptin' the for'ard array, if you would, crew! Can't have all that glow around us in the fog...disorientin' as all hell in the white. Just the one'll do fine. Fogs like this'n are shipkillers...springin' up around reefs and little islets right at the water line. Jorme, keep your eyes for'ard, and Gigson, do yer best to keep eyes on the sun. Hate to lose our one reliable headin' in this mess. And as fer the rest of ye, keep the chatter low...ol' Merev's gotta concentrate."

Mere seconds after the captain's latest orders have been completed to his satisfaction, the Dancing Karil slides from the mist into a true fog, and visibility drops off sharply. Merev grumbles again, less loudly but more profoundly.

"Gonna be a bad 'un..."

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
[Lock]

*Disclaimer: This post occurred/occurs before Blue Chickey's Plot advancement.


Lock makes his way to breakfast table solely because of it's social benefits, though he nabs himself a small piece of tasty fish accompanied by some lime for his health as well. The scene with fish charm was a small enough departure from the norm to povide some entertainment, and Lock says to Sparky with a smile, "Hey there, that was well done. Though you never know how much of that luck our own little group here might yet need. Winking, he continues, But of course, I prefer to make my own luck besides.


Continuing his address of the table, Lock shifts his attention to Nivlan, You know, I can't say I've had that particular sort of fish, but you wouldn't believe the sorts of things I've seen eaten. I kid you not I once had a rich nobleman pay me to inconspicuously prestidigize some ground up rocks into tasing flavorful for him to eat so he could impress others with his great fortitude, but the bigger mystery was the man he got the idea from who did such for pleasure in the first place. That's not to say the rich are the only ones who eat strange things...there's an entire village I encountered once that flavored everything with seaweed, ground-up flavorless seaweed. It was the staple of their diet.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
[Proper reaction to the fog encroachment]

Lock's breakfast conversation was quickly cut short by the commotion caused by the sudden encroachment of the large fog bank. The situation was certainly unsettling, but Lock knew that what was undoubtedly on all the sailors' minds was even more unsettling the weather itself.

Turning so all about the breakfast table still could hear him, Lock explains in a low hush, "I think you all should know that the stories the, admittedly, somewhat attention seeking seamen spout around the docks and taverns about the Wyche's line ghost ships always have at least a couple of details in common with each other. That is, these ships usually appear near to or out of heavy fog banks past the Wyche's line, usually creaking timbers and sometimes wailing voices of the supposed spirits announcing their arrival. Real phantoms or not...you'd best be on your guard."

As for himself, Lock got his spear ready for use. He didn't feel foolish for it, the sudden heavy fogbank was putting even him at genuine unease.

[Avernaith]

Sparky
[the little engine that could]
Sparky's grin is broad as the Captain closes his hand around the brownboot. He salutes smartly and follows the Captain out on deck, giving another excited thumbs up to Salt as he passes by. As the Captain fits the pegs into the wheel, Sparky is placing the cord around his neck again, and safely securing the token under his shirt. He adjusts it a few more times during the reading of instruments, but mostly just pays close attention to the Captain and crew during the time of rising tension.

With the Captain's orders to douse lights and maintain silence, Sparky silently complies, rushing for'ard towards the prow with only a momentary stop to douse a nearby lantern. He climbs up over the for'ard rail and out onto the bowsprit, balancing carefully until he can grab the forestay for support. Edging out to the very foremost part of the ship, he pulls out a safety strap from his pack and secures it to the cable behind him. Once he's tied in, he leans out over the open water and peers into the sudden and blinding bank of curdled fog, straining his eyes and ears for anything to report back to the Captain. I know I can help. I just know it!

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn

Watching the crew's unease, Kahlynn pulls her cloak tighter around her and moves away from the railing and the clinging tendrils of fog. Her glance follows the crew as they scuttle over the deck, then returns to the thickening mist.
Her brows pull together in a scowl as she looks up to where she knows the sun must be, and finds only a slightly brighter spot in the sky.
Pelor preserve us ...
She drifts towards the foredeck, seeking the minimum comfort of the remaining lights.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider

Standing at the prow Gauran peers into the fog, unease clearly visible on his stony visage. When Kahlynn approaches he gives a small nod in her direction, and then returns to staring into the eery fog.

If I at least knew that over there the land begins...

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk
[grinding his teeth that last night's post was eaten by a poor connection]

With the onset of the deep fog, Nivlan strains his eyes to keep track of the sun's position. Without the sun...what are we? Lock's warning about the ghost ships, however, sends Nivlan scrambling to make sure that his healing supplies are within reach.

[KuH]

Fryst

Fryst mutters to the Captain "If your compass is off, I can help you" and then continues "Damn fog. Anything could sneak up on you and you wouldn't know where it is." Then more loudly he calls out "keep it as quiet as possible. When you can't use your eyes, use your ears."

Fryst will take the least occupied side of the ship, rather than running to the front with the others, and will listen carefully.

Fryst would love to roll a listen check at +12

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

Shael clambers to his feet, returning the knife to wherever it came from as he strides toward the prow once more. He pauses, before he reaches it, however, and leans out over the railing, peering into the fog ahead. His eyes glow softly beneath the brim of the hat as he scans the upcoming cover.

If it's magical... no. Not worth knowing. His grip tightens on the railing and he closes his eyes for a moment, concentrating. But if the ship is magical... I could give us some warning. Warning our eyes can't offer...

He reaches inward, to the soft green glow always lurking somewhere in the depths of his being, and... grabs a hold of some of it. A thin, faint trickle. As the thin tendril of power rises to the surface, it is accompanied by a soft, whispering voice. Gritting his teeth, Shael clamps down on the rising mind, while simultaneously releasing the enrergy in a sweeping, faint arc. Probing the fog ahead of the ship for magical energy.

The strain is visible in his face, and in the rigidity of his posture, even leaning out as he is. His green eyes snap opens once more, and he deliberately lowers the hat brim over the increased glow.

Detect magic is again being fielded. I'll hold it as I scan off the bow for maybe around five minutes, then step back from the prow for maybe a minute before resuming again. It's an at-will ability, so it should work out well enough.

[Velvet Elvis]

So sorry for the delay. Your regularly scheduled adventure will resume shortly...

[Velvet Elvis]

With an almost pointless white-knuckled grip upon the wheel's spokes, Captain Merev continues to grumble about the building fog and the troublesome aspect of the wind, which so graciously brought the Dancing Karil to this point beyond the doldrums, and has, like a spring rain, suddenly ceased. The rest of the crew are all but entirely silent, seemingly absorbing the natural moroseness of the quiet mists. With the passengers also becoming still and halting their own banter, the ship becomes its own ghost, of a sort.

As the moments silently slip by, the cold, damp wisps grow more dense, massing from the water's surface upwards as the boat drifts slowly on weak waves that go unseen and barely heard. With no visible references left, it's nigh impossible to determine direction, time or speed. It seems all of those familiar things have been set aside in an old box, having become irrelevant.

Eerie near silence presses against your eardrums for minutes on end, and the clammy mists become an irritant despite their near lack of true substance. Already, visibility has dropped to nearly zero. The hand before your face can be seen, but dreamlike as if through gauze; indistinct and somehow distant. Condensation spawns tickling rivulets of cold water mixed with nervous sweat that roll down your temples, your neck, your back. The mist even invades your nostrils and ears, and causes you to blink far more rapidly than usual, tiny droplets flicking from your lashes at each flutter. A strange thought invades your brain: is it possible to drown in fog?

The thought is left only vaguely considered as each of you, save for Shael whose senses are dulled by some aspect of his history, hear something. It is faint and reminiscent of the sound of a fish flopping about after a catch, but it ceases quickly. The disorienting fog makes it difficult to know from which side or end of the boat the sound had come from, but a moment or two allows you to recall the positions of your immediate surroundings, using details of rail, or mast or yardarm as reference.

Astern. You're not certain, but it seems the right guess. As you deduce the relative direction, you hear another wet flop, or is it two, or even more? This time it is accompanied by the faintest of sensations, as if the boat had listed in that same direction...just the tiniest bit. Though perhaps it was your imagin....

"Blast! Arms astern, mates! We have boarders!" Captain Merev's voice shatters the near deathly silence. The call is muffled and disembodied with no hint of the echo your mind seems to think should occur in such a claustrophobic situation. Except for Lock and Nivlan, who remained seated at the far edges of the cargo hold after breakfast, none can see the captain at all.

In response, Yorkin's voice rings out from what could be somewhere near the starboard rail, "Dammit! Aye cap'n!" Gigson, likewise, spews an expletive and rises quickly beside Nivlan, Fryst having turned from the port rail toward where he recalls the helm stands, also seeing Gigson spring to action. Heretofore, it'd been essentially ignored as a point not worth noticing that Gigson bore both a curved long blade and dagger. They've both found grips as their owner begins to step around Nivlan and out of Fryst's sight.

At this point neither Salt nor Jorme have acknowledged the captain's summon to arms.


If you would all be so kind as to roll initiative, we will commence the festivities. Just make the roll in the dice-rolling thread, noted as being an initiative roll, and pause for a bit. As soon as everyone's made their roll, we'll continue.

I have rolled listen checks for the lot of you and results will be factored into the initial round.

{Inits are in--Gauran & Nivlan's have been rolled by me to expedite things}

[KuH]

Fryst

Damn, caught unawares, with most of us up in the bow ... and more importantly my staff in my bag thinks Fryst as his hand reaches into his bag to pull out his fighting stick. Because of that I don't think I have time to call my spirit's blessing before fighting he thinks as he moves towards the boarded area.

On his initiative, of course.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge

Blast, thinks Lock, I'm letting my senses slip. I can't let myself fall into this reverie...no one can.

OOC: How big is this ship? Barring extenuating information that might change my mind, I was thinking of casting Glitterdust towards to stern to hopefully outline what we might be able to see. It's a 10 ft radius though...I'd have to be pretty exact if there's a lot of stern.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

Nivlan's stomach tightened at the Captain's call and threatened dangerously to release his piscine breakfast back into the sea. This is a lot different than trapping out on the trail. This time, I'm the one in the trap. I don't even know what would be boarding a ship like this. Pelor, preserve us!

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan
( Init: 22 | AC: 14 | HP: 26/26 (Healthy) | Position: Unawares in the Bow)

In the bow, Shael falters, his bloodless grip slipping on the wet railing. What's the... point. On and on this surveillance, and nothing is out there? Why am I bothering?

He begins to straighten, breathing heavily, but stiffens, his body going rigid as the power begins to swell within him. The small trickle he's been maintaining, forcing him to fight the will that seeks to control him, begins to grow. Gritting his teeth, he releases the magical probe he's been using to scan ahead—releases his hold on his inner strength entirely, and leans against the railing. Only now does he notice just how foggy it is. It might be wise to pull back from the—

The power swelled in him again, coming without his reaching for it. Snarling, he shoves down hard. If his face were visible in the fog, it would have been frightening to behold, contorted into a rictus of fearsome concentration. His teeth, clenched, brow knotted, and eyes glowing with an increasing light. Tendons bulge along his wrist and fingers as he grips the rail. The whispers come once more.

You have withheld conversation for some time, Shael? Why do you not humor me with the small talk we so often share? The soft voice is pleasant, filled with condescending amusement. You're been playing with your other friends and forgetting all about me. I'm hurt.

You know full well that conversation isn't what you're after! Shut up and go away! I can't risk your presence with these others around!

With a tremendous effort, he forces the alien mind down once more, releasing his hold on its power and slumping against the rail—knees weak and chest heaving, oblivious to the danger creeping up from behind.

[KuH]

Fryst

"Hisst, sounds like five boarders at the stern" calls out Fryst as he pulls out his beatstick and flexes his claw "I'm going back, and would appreciate gravel boy's assistance ... and make sure some of you are ready for other boarders in the front and sides." The latter is thrown over his shoulder - he is already in motion to the stern, looking for a target.

[The_Snark]

Adur

Adur peers over the side, keeping a wary eye for reefs- or trying; the fog makes that impossible, and he gives up, leaning against the rail. His ears catch the splashing from astern, and he straightens, glancing to the stern. Impossible to see anything in here- we might as well be underwater. The thought triggers a faint smile. Yes... underwater...

He mutters words in a harsh tongue learned years ago in the mountains near his home, thinking of the sea and the dolphins that live there, navigating through sound. His hearing sharpens, to the point where he can hear the deck below him and the waves moving past. Turning, he cautiously makes his way to the stern, hoping to find whatever it is that boards them.

Casting Embrace the Wild, for 30' blindsense and +2 to Listen and Spot checks, and then going towards the stern.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Okay) | Position: Not for non-DM eyes? )

This damnable fog! Thinks Lock. The boarders might as well be invisible...how are we possibly going to engage them?

Trying to think of a solution on his toes hardly being able to see anyone else, Lock quietly says to Adur and Nivlan nearby him, "Watch yourselves. Most are aforedeck, I'm going to take a gamble with the stern, hopefully help our visibility."

With that, Lock falls into his arcane spellcasting trance and calls forth what he hopes will be a useful spell. He summons bright, golden Glidderdust and attempts to douse the stern area where he'd heard creatures flop aboard with the stuff, and tries to remain inconspicuous in his place after casting.

OOC: That's Glitterdust (http://www.systemreferencedocuments.org/35/sovelior_sage/spellsFtoG.html#glitterdust) centered on the stern (coordinates in PM).

[Avernaith]

Sparky


Sparky freezes in place for just the barest second, listening as his companions rush towards the stern. In an almost numb shock, he registers the flopping sound. Oh no! Fish-Men! I just knew it! Mom was right! He pulls himself out of his panicked reverie and focuses on the now. He hears Fryst's terse order, Lock's voice as he calls out the words to some sort fo spell, and only dimly makes out the thumping sounds of people running over the slippery decks.

Finally, it's his turn for action, and he turns in place towards the bow of the ship and carefully walks back along the bowsprit while drawing his rapier. My first real fight, I'm not sure what to do. I could run to the back with everyone else ... but ... what it that's the distraction, and the real attack is up here? He heads back towards the sounds, stopping only when the safety line tugs gently at his waist. With a steady hand, he reaches down to unsnap the clip, and comes back up to level with his shortsword now securely in his off-hand. [I]Stay up front, Sparky. The Fish-Men will never expect you

OOC: I played it fast and loose as I could with the low initiative roll (Stupid Dice Roller). Sparky's main action is a Move with Draw Weapon(s) as a Free Action (higher than BAB of +1, Two Weapon Fighting). I'm not sure what to do with the failed Balance Check, since one wasn't yet required, but will amend my post if necessary when the DMs let me know.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Gauran Darkstrider
(Ini: 2 <--- I won't forget this, VE! / AC 14 / HP 61/61 / Position: Under way to the stern

Moving carefully on the slippery deck, Gauran literally stalks with very pointed steps in direction of the aft deck, to avoid giving the wet floor a movement that might end in a slide. During this move he takes his greathammer in both hands, ready to serve a blow to any kind of hideous creature that might surge from the fog.

Straining to hear any creatures that might approach from any direction, he keeps his every movement slow and careful.

Rolls:
Balance: 19 / Extra d8: 2 / Extra d20: 5 / Extra Listen: 8

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn
(Init:18 l AC 16 l HP 44/44 Position: nearly amidships)



Kahlynn crouches down somewhere amidships, one hand clutching her holy symbol while the other draws her sad little dagger from her belt. Wait and see ... you'll be of no use to anyone if you get struck down. How can they even tell friend from foe?

She squints against the fog, trying to tell something from the vague and muffled sounds she hears from the stern.
Pelor, protect us from this unnatural fog, and those who hide within it.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Hrm) | Position: Netted and dragged )

Lock remains in place, beginning to weave a spell of some sort with twisting fingers and low-spoken words of arcane power. As he works to coalesce the necessary energies, he is caught unaware as a creature more fish than man, but a nauseating blending of both, steps silently from the mists to stand upon the starboard stairs leading up to the poop deck. To Lock's awareness, the creature does not yet exist in form, only the faint flopping of its wet feet was available to paint his imaginary image of what lay hidden in the blinding mists. But as the stories go, just because you can't see the monster under your bed doesn't mean it doesn't exist.

The creature waves an arm and a net, perhaps ten feet wide fixed with barbs that glisten faintly with condensation, flies down upon Lock, blanketing him nearly square in the center. At the very moment the net begins to settle, the creature's other arm, which had so far only held a narrow wood or metal rod, yanks back, pulling the corners of the net taut and effectively scooping Lock's small form into itself, as well as sliding him a little ways toward the stairs.

Lock struggles a little but knows his situation is bad if he can't out his captor or get some help. He'd feel better if he even knew what this thing was that wa dragging him, but without known, he takes a chance and works his magic as best he can to cast a Sleep spell centered on his enemy, after which he yells as loud as he can to his allies, "Watch out for nets! If anyone can hear me, this fish face has got me in one!"

Lock then hopefully waits for his chance to escape.

OOC: Sleep spell details (http://www.systemreferencedocuments.org/35/sovelior_sage/spellsS.html#sleep). The save is Will 18. I'm also readying a move action to get up and out of the net at my first chance there. My Concentration is 20 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2050507&postcount=94).

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk
(Init: 3 | AC: 13 | HP: 39/39 (okay) | Position...going nowhere)

Nivlan hesitates at first, unsure where he'd be most useful. When he hears Lock's shout, he turns and tries to see what's happened. He attempts to move through the fog to where he heard Lock's voice, but attempts the motion too quickly and falls flat on his backside.

[KuH]

Fryst
[AC: 20, hp: 56/56, other useful details here]

Fryst moves sternward along the deck towards the action, greatclub in hand. His catlike balance keeps him on his feet as he goes looking for bad guys to surprise.

Spoiler for DMs only As outlined to Velvet Elvis, past rowboat, I think it was M8,N8,O8 and vertical jump (note feats) to P8 if it is part of move action, if not, going up via the stairs and on to the middle of the rear deck, keeping careful watch and greatclub above head to stop nets from falling on him, and stopping to fight if he sees baddies

[Velvet Elvis]

Still collating...

Hang in there. I've decided to try a method I had in mind long ago for a PBeM game. It's taking longer than I thought, but you'll see why.

When I post the round summary, please don't read anything other than the obvious open text (if any) and your spoiler. It will make for a much better--well, hopefully--experience. You may return after combat has entirely concluded and read everyone else's spoilers for your own amusement.

I'm working rather hard on this, so I would appreciate your restraint. :)

Oh, and don't blame bc for the glacial entry into combat. This is entirely my doing. I'll get better as we go along.

[Velvet Elvis]

Please see my post in the OOC thread regarding this format, before reading further. Thx. Oh, in case you're curious, you may read all the spoilers AFTER combat has concluded. Thank you for your restraint. Mind any typos and possibly lame sentence structure.

Shael (22)Having no knowledge yet of the hidden boarders, you are suddenly subjected to the infuriatingly nonchalant mental force of that which has invaded your soul. You strain, grimacing fearsomely, your knuckles going white at the forward port rail. With mocking derision only you can hear, you push the disembodied force from your mind, leaving yourself temporarily sapped of energy.

A moment or two later, you hear the muffled voice of Lock calling out from somewhere to your right. "Watch out for nets! If anyone can hear me, this fish face has got me in one!"

Almost dead on Lock's heels, you hear what you think is Gigson's voice ringing out from somewhere port and astern. "Skum, Cap'n! Netter at port!"

Several moments later you hear a small thump upon the deck behind you.

As your brain vaguely registers the sound, you suddenly hear a cry of pain from some distance directly astern.

Almost simultaneously, you hear another cry of pain from the starboard side of the deck at about the same distance.

Your ending position/condition: H-08, Uninjured


Lock (21)(Relative to some directional references, you are facing toward the starboard rail at an aft angle.)

Your mental plan to weave a spell to highlight whatever may be hidden in the fog that obscures the stern, is quickly dashed as a barbed net appears from the fog to envelop you in a small bundle. As you're drawn in a few feet, you see your attacker's form upon the starboard steps leading up to the poop deck. Nauseatingly green and mottled with yellow, it holds a rod in one hand and a short coil of dark rope in the other. Details are limited given your position within the net as you're forced to peer through the irregular mesh, but the creature is quite definitely an abomination of man and fish. Wide black eyes regard its catch with a seemingly strange calm. Perhaps it is only the lack of facial expression that conveys this, but it is somewhat unsettling.

Though the confining netting makes the attempt far more difficult than desired, you manage to wiggle your fingers and intone familiar arcane words in the direction of your attacker. A moment passes with no visible result, but you can see the glistening scales of the creature's face contort slightly as if attempting to fight back the desire to close its dark eyes. But close they do, the creature dropping to lie across the angle of the stairs. You feel the tension on the net's controlling rope drop away, though the net itself stays tightly drawn, and you remain entangled within it.

(Note: Critter failed his save by 1.)

Out of the corner of your right eye, and through a mesh hole, you notice that Captain Merev hasn't moved from the helm. Most of his form is heavily obscured by the fog, but he is definitely still there.

Somewhat muffled by the fog and likely some from the net's material, you hear what you think is Gigson's voice ringing out from somewhere port and slightly astern. "Skum, Cap'n! Netter at port!"

You hear a grunt and a strange, unintelligible, high-pitched yell from above, which quickly resolves itself into Jorme's vague form leaping from the rigging above you and down onto the stairs beside the sleeping fish-man. Even as his knees recoil from the landing, one hand is removing a broad-bladed, curved dagger he'd placed between his teeth, while the other draws another of similar type from a short sheath at his hip.

From your position on the deck, nearly scrunched up between the stern of one of the two small rowboats the Dancing Karil carries, and the lower step of the stairwell leading to the poop deck, you can't see who or what it is, but you can easily determine that someone has apparently leapt into the rowboat. Your raw senses tell you that their passage is from bow to stern, and that, a logical guess is that they are making their way generally astern. You also hear, chanting to your left, the voice of Adur. As the chanting ends, you hear something stepping immediately behind you, from amidships aft, that stops somewhere slightly behind and to your right. The bunched netting blocks your view rendering it impossible to know for certain who or what it is.

Though your ears are nearly buried in damp netting, they are easily keen enough to hear a sudden sharp cry of pain from somewhere to port.

At nearly the same time, you hear another cry of pain from almost directly ahead of you, which though you can't quite see what's happened through the netting, you do see that Jorme is bleeding, though where from is blocked from view.

Your ending position/condition: N-06, Netted, Uninjured



Kahlynn (18)You hear the muffled voice of Lock calling out from somewhere starboard and astern. "Watch out for nets! If anyone can hear me, this fish face has got me in one!"

Almost dead on Lock's heels, coming as you move from beside the crew cabin stairwell to a spot starboard of the main mast, you hear what you think is Gigson's voice ringing out from somewhere port and astern. "Skum, Cap'n! Netter at port!" You reach your intended position at this point, simultaneously seeing both Adur's form appearing from the mists just astern and Yorkin's near the starboard rail. Both appear to be considering what to do.

Yorkin is the first to act after your arrival, moving toward the stern on the starboard side. As he reaches the rowboat he deftly hops over its prow, avoids the contents and continues forward out of sight. You also noticed he'd drawn what appears to be a cutlass as he passed beside you. His face was a mask of determined concern, a face far less the rather crude, simple man whose presence you'd come to know and, to at least some degree, enjoy.

Shortly after you arrive, Adur appears to have made a decision and begins to chant, weaving intricate symbols in the mists with the fingers of one hand. When the ritual is completed, you notice no effect at all, though Adur's reaction hardly indicates his intent has failed. He then moves away toward the stern and is quickly lost in the mists.

Several moments later, you hear a cry of pain from somewhere port and aft of you.

Almost simultaneously, you hear another cry of pain from the starboard side of the deck at about the same relative distance astern.

As the cries ring out, you clutch your holy symbol all the tighter. As you do, you look to the heavens as if they were truly still visible, only to suddenly see a great bulk appear from the left. You start for a moment before realizing it is only Gauran. He moves around you to starboard, bringing himself to stand just before the bow of the small rowboat.

Your ending position/condition: L-06, Uninjured



Adur (14)(Relative to some directional references, you are facing to port.)

While you consider what to do in the face of the Captain's warning call, you see a span of barbed netting drift heavily over Lock just before it appears he was to begin the gestures required to weave an unknown spell. The net falls heavily over the gnome and is immediately yanked starboard and aft a bit, scooping its catch and leaving him, for the moment, in a bundle near what you assume to be the starboard stairs leading up to the poop deck.

You hear the muffled, yet loud, voice of Lock calling out from your left. "Watch out for nets! If anyone can hear me, this fish face has got me in one!"

Almost dead on Lock's heels, you hear what you think is Gigson's voice ringing out from somewhere port and astern. "Skum, Cap'n! Netter at port!" and as if on some sort of strange cue, you notice Kahlynn slowly appear from the mists to your right. She is crouching, apparently in fear of what might leap out at her from the fog. You notice she is clutching the holy symbol that hangs about her neck, and squinting into the fog.

Suddenly, somewhere to your left and above, you hear a strange, high-pitched cry that appears to move from there to a point somewhere behind and aft of you. In addition, you hear a light wooden thunk in that same direction.

A figure moves past behind you. As you turn your head you catch Yorkin hopping over the rowboat's prow and making the short, but obstacle-laden way toward its stern. You also notice he is now bearing what appears to be a cutlass in his right hand, using his free hand to stabilize his movements as the small boat rocks beneath his weight.

Amidst the commotion, you now decide your course of action. Moments later, with spell cast, your natural senses give way to those of the nocturnal beasts whose eyes are far more well augmented than a mere human's. Instantly, a number of vague images appear in your mind's eye. Having just seen Yorkin and Kahlynn nearby, as well as knowing Lock's odd situation next to you, you are able to easily filter their sparkling signatures from your new senses. The rest are left to your imagination.

(An indistinct, oddly shaped signature near both Yorkin and Lock (O-5), what you gauge to be roughly human-sized figures at O-7, O-8, O-9, N-8, P-10, R-5, R-8, R-9 and S-6. A small figure, the size of Lock's, at L-9. Farther to port, you acquire another human-sized figure at H-8, and finally a larger figure at H-6. At present, several figures are in motion. H-6 is heading astern, and all figures near the aft rails are moving slowly toward you.

Your new senses acclimatized almost instantly, you begin to move aft, stepping behind the bundle of netting and gnome, and coming into sight of Captain Merev still gripping the wheel's spokes tightly. Your original intent to head to the starboard stairs is halted as you notice upon nearing them the prone form of a repulsive fish/man abomination covered in glistening yellowish-green scales, interlaced with ropy sinew. Of almost equally interesting note is the diminutive form of the long-since seen Jorme standing over the creature, two small, wide-bladed, curved daggers in hand.

(You are now facing directly to starboard.)

The form due aft of you moves fairly quickly in your direction, suddenly appearing out of the mists to your right, above, on the poop deck. It is another creature nearly identical to the prone one lying upon the steps. This one, however, has a bluish cast to its scales and is bearing both a large, oddly-shaped shield apparently fashioned of overlapping shell plates, much like the creature's own scales, and a broad-bladed spear with recurved barbs on each edge tip. This creature appears more muscular and somehow, more sturdy than the other. Its deep black eyes regard you dispassionately, but you sense an inner malice.

Though you were able to see the creature in your mind's eye even as it approached, your attempts to move away from the overhanging edge of the poop deck are met with frustration as your feet encounter obstacles. Just as it appears, you are nearly able to step aside in time, but fate has you slip just a bit on the slick deck, and the spear that is thrust down upon you just manages to slice across your side, before being drawn back with a strange, guttural grunt followed by a light spray of fetid saliva.

(You've suffered 8HP.)

Your own quiet suffering is only a moment later made audible, in a strange, abstract way, by a cry of pain heard from somewhere directly to port.

As you attempt to fend off an expectant followup attack from the fish-man above you, you fail to register in your mind's eye the continued motion of another vague image approaching. This one moved parallel, just to starboard, to the one that has already attacked you. Though you instinctively fear a second assault directed at you, instead, your brief glance in the direction you know it to be reveals a snapping, razor-ridged jaw striking out of the mists from near the head of the stairs tearing into Jorme's shoulder before pulling back and being almost--but not entirely--visibly lost in the fog.

Your ending position/condition: O-06, facing aft going into the next round, -8HP



Fryst (11)(Relative to some directional references, you are facing to port.)

At the Captain's call, Gigson, whose years with Merev have apparently created a sort of mental link, has his misty form is in motion almost instantly, drawing a curved short sword and dagger he moves away toward the stern. His image is consumed by the fog within two steps.

You hear the muffled voice of Lock calling out from somewhere behind and to your left. "Watch out for nets! If anyone can hear me, this fish face has got me in one!"

You hear Gigson's voice ringing out from fairly nearby astern. "Skum, Cap'n! Netter at port!" In that direction, you also hear a muffled curse quickly followed by the sound of something impacting the port gunwale and just a moment after, the definite sound of something large plunging into the water in the same general vicinity.

Again from the direction you know to be the location of Lock, you now hear a strange, unintelligible, high-pitched yell from above, which is quickly followed by a faint thump.

Eventually, you turn, bringing your greatclub out to be held up above your head as you move to a spot between the bow end of the port rowboat and one end of the cargo hold. From there, you see Nivlan just beginning to rise to his feet, having been slow to react to the surprising situation. You step behind him with intent to move farther aft, only to see the face of Salt emerge from the mists, noting that he wields a rather interesting looking rapier-like blade. He gives you a nod as he casts glances about, as if he, too is thinking to determine the best route to the fight.

Finding your intended route blocked, you opt to turn a bit to port and take to the stairs. As you take to the first step, you notice a thick, wide wad of barbed netting scrunched up against the gunwale and the middle set of stairs, a dark rope running from beneath the wad, overboard. You quickly determine that there is someone or something struggling to free itself from the entangling net.

(Since your chosen endpoint was already occupied, I chose an alternate to save time.)

Working specs for pouch of holding - Aperture 5" long with a mouth that can open to a 4" width. Capacity is 2ft3 with a weight maximum of 20lb (the same as one of the HHH's side compartments, with a smaller mouth). The extradimensional space is 5"x4"x172" (14.5'), max object length also 172". Pouch weight: 1lb. Price: 1500gp

Note that I decided to leave the price the same, despite the shrinking of capacity, due to the much increased convenience factor. If you wish, you may exchange the item and purchase something else with the 1500gp you've already spent (or save it, of course). For purposes of your greatclub, although I would generally judge otherwise, I'll assume for the sake of argument, that the widest part of the head is narrow enough for you to squeeze it into the pouch's opening with only minimal difficulty (no in-game effect).

As you focus on the netted thing before you, you just manage to catch sight of a creature as it breaks into view from the fog just above the higher stairs. It appears to be an ugly blending of fish and man, made of rounded muscles covered in dull green scales which shimmer wetly in the highly-diffused light of the now nearly unnoticeable sun. Its body is laced with ropy sinews that resemble the heavy marbling of poor quality beef, and its face, an expressionless mask bearing two dark eyes, is a wicked thing to behold. You attempt to dodge to the side, but the creature moves with surprising speed in the same direction, taking a single claw-and-web-footed step downward and extending its neck to bring to bear a mouthful of razor-sharp ridges upon you. You cry out in pain as those odd teeth rip into your shoulder.

(15HP damage.)

Almost simultaneously, you hear a cry of pain from directly starboard. The sound is so similar as to seem like an echo of your own.

As if in tandem with that echoing cry, you just barely notice Nivlan, still in the same spot he was when you passed by him earlier, suddenly fall down with a grunt. Vaguely, amidst your own concerns, you notice him rising again.

Your ending position/condition: O-09, -15HP


Sparky (9)(With regard to certain directionals, you are facing astern.)

You hear the muffled voice of Lock calling out from somewhere fairly far ahead and somewhat to your left. "Watch out for nets! If anyone can hear me, this fish face has got me in one!"

Almost dead on Lock's heels, you hear what you think is Gigson's voice ringing out from somewhere fairly far ahead but this time to port. "Skum, Cap'n! Netter at port!"

Soon after, you also hear an oddly high-pitched, unintelligible yell coming from the general vicinity of where you heard Lock call out just a few moments before.

Unsnapping your safety strap and having already drawn your short sword, you hop from the base of the bowsprit down between the anchor winch and a backspar running across to connect and support the forward bow gunwales. You now see what appears to be Shael standing to your right, though his back is to you. For some reason, he is hunched somewhat toward the railing. You also see the large form of Gauran to your left and note that he is just beginning to head astern, his long, loping steps soon to carry him entirely out of sight.

As you glance at Gauran, yet to bring his bulk into motion, you snap your head to the right in a futile reaction to see what has just uttered a sharp cry of pain. The sound seems to come from somewhere fairly far astern and just to your right.

Almost simultaneously, you hear another cry of pain from the starboard side of the deck at about the same relative distance astern.

Your ending position/condition: H-07, Uninjured


Nivlan (3)(With regard to left/right type directionals, you are facing toward the starboard rail.)

At the Captain's call, Gigson, whose years with Merev have apparently created a sort of mental link, has his misty form is in motion almost instantly, drawing a curved short sword and dagger he moves away toward the port stairs. With a mild grunt, he consumes a few of the steps in a tentative hop, showing only minimal indication he is concerned, or indeed, affected by the slippery footing.

You see Salt appear from the fog to your right. Though you can no longer see it, you assume Salt must have exited the door leading from the captain's stateroom. His face is a dour grimace full of anger, but with nary a sign of fear. He casts a brief look your way, then peers elsewhere, appearing to see both Captain Merev still at the wheel to his right and Gigson upon the stairs to his left. Your eyes are drawn immediately to the weapon he now bears: a sleek curving blade looking for all intents and purposes to be a heavier version of a standard rapier, but one of exquisite workmanship and delicate basket design.

You hear the muffled voice of Lock calling out from nearby ahead and to your right. "Watch out for nets! If anyone can hear me, this fish face has got me in one!"

You notice that Captain Merev hasn't moved from the helm. His hands are a deathgrip upon two inner spokes, and his face shows a grimace of concentration, and though it is rather difficult to be certain, you gain the impression his eyes are shut.

You hear Gigson's voice ringing out from fairly nearby astern and to port. "Skum, Cap'n! Netter at port!" Very soon after his call, and in that same direction, you hear a muffled curse quickly followed by the sound of something impacting the port gunwale and just a moment after, the definite, though muffled, sound of something large plunging into the water.

You hear a grunt and a strange, unintelligible, high-pitched yell from somewhere above that carries away ahead and to your right, very near the source of Lock's warning.

Behind you, you sense a small figure passing by and continuing aft, just as you begin to rise to your feet. A quick turn of your head reveals the form of Fryst who is stepping off toward and, eventually, onto the port stairs.

Now on your feet, you suddenly hear a loud cry of pain from nearly directly behind you. You instinctively whip your head to the right as you half-turn to see Fryst, bleeding profusely from a nasty shoulder wound. Though you only saw it for on instant as its insult of a face disappears into the mists, there is no question as to the source of Fryst's wound: a partly fishlike, partly manlike face covered in scales and thin ropy sinew tracery, with mouth agape and dripping heavy globules of bright red blood.

Almost simultaneously, you hear another cry of pain from nearby ahead and to your right.

You attempt to move to a more advantageous position, but catch a foot on the raised cargo hold door which causes you to attempt to shift your weight to the other foot, only to find that doing so tilts you into an unbalanced position. Your feet slide from under you and you end up dropping to the deck on your backside, grunting loudly. Stubbornly, you draw yourself back to your feet almost as if you'd rebounded.

Your ending position/condition: N-08, Uninjured


Gauran (2)(With regard to left/right type directionals, you are facing astern.)

In the near distance ahead and to the starboard side, you hear the muffled voice of Lock call out. "Watch out for nets! If anyone can hear me, this fish face has got me in one!"

Almost dead on Lock's heels, you hear what you think is Gigson's voice ringing out from somewhere fairly far ahead but this time to port. "Skum, Cap'n! Netter at port!"

Soon after, you also hear an oddly high-pitched, unintelligible yell coming from the general vicinity of where you heard Lock call out just a few moments before.

Just as you begin to put your bulk into motion, you see Sparky suddenly appear, almost as if out of nowhere, dropping down from behind and ending up just to your right, between a bracing timber and the anchor winch. He has his short sword in hand. (No laughing.)

A mere step forward you then hear a cry of pain from somewhere fairly far astern and to port.

Almost simultaneously, you hear another cry of pain from the starboard side of the deck at about the same relative distance astern.

Having been distracted repeatedly by the commotion about you, you finally lean forward and carefully, but still fairly swiftly bring yourself amidships. You feel that the bare feet beneath you give you a somewhat better than usual sense of stability as under your great bulk they squeeze aside the slippery water with each, squishing step. You progress about fifteen feet forward, suddenly seeing the hunkering form of Kahlynn leaning against the foot of the mainmast, clutching her holy symbol in hand and looking up into the fog as if she might be able to see the sky despite the soup. Rather than push her aside, you decide to bear a step to starboard.

(Since you can't occupy L-06, I chose randomly either stepping to the next forward starboard side or to port one step.)

Your ending position/condition: L-05, Uninjured

[KuH]

Fryst

[Edited] You might have heard a cry or might not which might have been Fryst or might not. This fog is very disorienting.

DM - instructions here - I think this is most efficient [AC:22; hp 41/56]
Assuming that Fryst can still see the guy who jumped out and bit him, he is going to go wild and wail on him, raging (AC now 22), and gaining two swings to hit at +8, 20% miss chance rolled twice, with 1d8+6 damage if he hits. I will roll the two attack and damage rolls in the dice thread.

If I can't see the enemy, I will free the tangled figure from the nets by slicing the ropes with my claw.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan
( Init: 22 | AC: 14 | HP: 26/26 (Healthy) | Position: On the Move)

Skum? Shael grits his teeth. Skum mean danger... and in this fog he couldn't afford to wander blindly, waving his sword and hoping to hit something. That meant...

With a snarl, he dove inward, surrendering to the push from within and reaching for it. Cold sweat prickling on his already-damp skin, his shaking limbs stiffening for a moment as another consciousness swelled up inside him, accompanying the sweet rush of power.

And you'd just made it so clear that you didn't want to talk to me... ah, no matter. Skum, I heard?

Their minds merge—an imperfect combination, but a sufficient one. Tapping the power greater than he had since that bar fight back in Dordekurst, he unleashed it with a barked syllable and a succinct gesture. Taking a moment, he flexes his limbs, and swings over the side of the ship.

DMs only. Is that how we're doing this?
Shael invokes spiderwalk and swings over the side, moving around the prow towards the port side at his full climb speed of 20 ft., meaning he ends the turn as far as he can around to the port, meaning at K-10 (if my math is right), on the outside of the railing.

Balance check: 34 (44?) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2061102&postcount=102)

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Hrm) | Position: Stuck and f...what? )

Lock thanks Garl his sleep spell worked on his captor, though barely. Unfortunately, he still couldn't easily get out of the damn net. He either needs some help or time to work at it, he was ashamed to admit to himself.

Lock sighs. It doesn't sound like the invaders are quite being repelled yet. Any fish person could come up and grab him like this, and with his allies occupied...this just wasn't a good sign. Lock shakes his head, and begins weaving another spell to cover himself and the net in the Silent Image of a large crate, the closest thing to inconspicuous as he could manage.

OOC: I'm doing these actions under the assumption that my it's still the Escape Artist 20 and Strength 25 to escape, quite literally impossible for me with my current penalties :/. Can't do much more from right here since I can't see anything (near top of the round and all). So, ***** little helpless gnome invisible action here we go! Concentration 24 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2059537&postcount=101). DC 18 will if anyone actually comes and interacts with said crate. I didn't PM cause I couldn't go anywhere.

[Avernaith]

Sparky
( Init: 9 | AC: 22 | HP: 30/30 (Good) | Position: Starboard Bow )
Sparky listens attentively as he creeps slowly forward, mindful of the dangerous footing on the deck. He keeps his swords gripped tightly, scanning from side to side for an unfamiliar back to plunge them into. C'mon Fish-Men, don't think you're getting off this ship without a fight. Wow, I sounded all dangerous. Neat. I wonder what it will be like the first time I kill something. Woah, calm down, find Lock first, he needs help. He's astern, and off the starboard. I just bet it. He continues around the bulk of the ballista Wow, we have a ballista, imagine the backstab damage that'd do... and further along amidships. Now I need a Fish-Man for my very first Real Battle. Here fishy fishy fishy...

OOC: Doing a 15' Move, ending in K-5. I'll post my Balance, d8, and extra d20 roll presently. If a target presents itself, and I have enough time to identify whether it's friend or foe, I'd like to stab something.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk
(Init: 3 | AC: 13 | HP: 39/39 (okay) | Position...afoot)

"Watch your footing! It's slick!" Nivlan called to the others.

OOC:Handsome DM Eyes Only:Nivlan will attempt to move behind Fryst and heal him. If possible, he will position himself on the far side of the halfling from the skum.

If I understand the positioning correctly, this means that he will move to the stairs at O9 and go up them, probably to P9 (if this puts him adjacent to Fryst but not to the skum.) Will this orient him correctly? He will not pass through a square controlled by a skum (thus provoking an AoO) unless absolutely necessary to reach Fryst. If Nivlan finds another injured comrade, and getting to Fryst requires passing by a skum, and Fryst doesn't look to be dying, he'll heal the other comrade. If Nivlan must choose between healing Fryst and healing a comrade who appears to be dying, Nivlan will heal the more desperately injured comrade.

As long as he's able to end up adjacent to Fryst (or the aforementioned injured comrade), Nivlan will cast a Cure spell on him: Cure Moderate Wounds if he seems badly injured (will it require a Heal check to evaluate?) or Cure Light Wounds if it's more bloody than dangerous. Nivlan's CL 4, so either spell gets +4 HP healed in addition to the dice rolled. Add in his CHA mod (from Healing Hands) for another +3 (+7 total so far), and Augment Healing adds +2 to CLW or +4 to CModW (+9/+11 total). That would be 1d8+9 for CLW and 2d8+11 for CModW. If Nivlan's in doubt about the extent of Fryst's (or the comrade's) injuries, he'll cast Cure Moderate Wounds.

If he must end up adjacent to a skum, he'll Cast Defensively.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
Ini: 2 / AC: 14 / HP 61/61 / Position: Up/Down/Up/Down/Up/Down/Up

When Kahlynn's form becomes visible in the fog Gauran steps around her to avoid a crowded space when anytime they could be attacked.

"Do not fear, Lady Kahlynn, it is only I", he whispers as she becomes aware of him.

"They seem to be everywhere, and I cannot see a damned thing. I will move farther to the stern, maybe I can get one of them there."

He takes another step and slips wholly, barely catching his fall with his elbow and ending up on his knees.

Under his breath he lets out a long string of obvious curses in his mother tongue, Gol-Kaa, and stands up again, more carefully.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn
(Init:18 l AC 16 l HP 44/44 Position: nearly amidships)

Kahlynn crouches once more, this time nearly beside Darkstrider. Knowing she has no chance at all to aid her huge companion to his feet, she instead tries to pierce the gloom, lest anything catch them unawares.

~Bright One, please, do not forsake us~

[blue chicken]

All players: Please see the OoC for instructions.

[The_Snark]

Adur

(Init: 14 | AC 18 | HP 33/41 | Position: O-6

In the mist, the bizarre figure seems nearly unreal, but the wound is very real, bringing Adur solidly back to earth. What are these creatures? Not any creature of the sea I have ever heard tell of. But whatever it is, it wants us all dead. Mindful of the sharp spear threatening him, he begins to say the words of a spell, trying to keep out of reach while keeping the creature within sight.

As he completes the spell, he gestures forwards, calling up the power of the sea, and a a strand of seaweed lashes out at the creature, wrapping about its limbs.

(Casting Kelpstrand. If he can do it without losing sight of the creature, Adur takes a 5-ft step to port to get out of reach. If not, he casts defensively. Concentration 12, which is a failure, ranged touch 15, grapple 17 since we're within 300 feet of the ocean.)

[blue chicken]

Right then! Forward, to resolving the round! Don't mind me using character names...keeps it simpler for me. Also don't mind this detail level being...somewhat reduced. Union labor regs. You know how it is. (also...just want to get things moving.)

...and read your own spoilers only. Gragh.

Edit: GUH! Sorry about the dual spoilers...they're fine, though. Just read both, if they're yours, and IGNORE THEM ENTIRELY if they're not. Now now...honor system, boys and...girl.

Shael - Clinging tightly to the side of the ship with all of your limbs, you skitter across the slippery planking. As you pause, you hear splashing in the water below, followed by the soft thunks of claws or blades being driven into wood. A few seconds later, you perceive a louder and wetter thump, as though a large, wet body had just lowered itself over the railing in the fog before your eyes. In the corners of your mind, the essence of Marix bubbles over for a few seconds, and you detect a hint of genuine amusement.

Oooh...sounds like something just got a dunking and didn't favor the experience. Back on board now, it sounds like. I wonder how Skum taste...fried? No. Slow-roasted, perhaps. Either way...


Lock - Still hopelessly entangled in the coils of the net, you begin weaving the fabric of the spell to hide you from prying eyes. Before you can complete your brief ritual, however, a dark shape leaps nimbly to the deck beside you. A blade flashes down, slitting the fabric of the net, and you recognize Yorkin through the thick mist. He helps you to your feet and nods toward the stern, whispering while holding up a finger for quiet.

"Shhh...on'y me, little matey. Keep yer wits about ye'...heard yer call and had ta' help, but there's more of 'em towards the stern. Good job workin' yer spells on that first one...worried he'd drag ye off the side. Got anymore tricks up yer sleeves?"

Shortly after that, you hear a vicious burbling cry from the general direction of the creature you enspelled, followed by a muted shout of exhultation, from a halfing by the the sound of it. Several other crashes, groans, and cries find their way to you from the mist, but you're too disoriented to make much sense of any of it. Finding your balance, you peer off into the fog, on your feet once again.

Kahlynn - Straining your ears to their limit, you can just barely make out a quiet set of footsteps from behind you. As they approach, you can tell by the gait and force of the steps that it's a small creature, a halfing or a gnome. Apart from that, you're only able to dicipher a general cacaphony of combat noises coming from further astern. One burbling, watery cry makes its way to your ears, and your keen healer's senses tell you that a creature's throat has just been slit somewhere in the mists.

Adur - Concentrating on launching your spell without providing an opening for your barely-seen enemy, your focus slips at a critical juncture and the tendril of weed you launch at the creature in the mist disintegrates on impact. Still, the attack was apparently enough to anger the beast, and you hear an irate gurgle just before a primitive spearpoint swishes past your head before withdrawing.
Canvassing your senses, you're able to discern the locations of the other combatants with a good degree of accuracy. (excuse the locational reference, but I'm going for speed here.) P5 and P6 give you returns from human-sized figures, though the one you previously detected at 05 drops to the deck following an agonized burble. Behind you, two small shapes echo in your mind at N6 and O5, with another human-shaped blip at O5 as well. Behind you, you can just make out Lock and Yorkin whispering. You get small-sized returns from K6 and O9, a large return from near the rail at M4, and more medium returns from L6, N8 and N9, O8 and O7, P9, and S8.

Sparky - Picking your way carefully along the wet planking, you hear the sounds of combat growing louder in front of you. Eventually, you are able to see a vague outline of Kahlynn in the mist at L6 and the slipping bulk of Darkstrider at L5, recovering from a fall. As soon as he stands, however, he slips again and goes sliding off into the mist toward the rail. A split-second later you hear the sound of wood groaning under a heavy impact and a guttural grunt.

Nivlan - (Whoa...yours was easy...) Planting your feet more firmly on the deck and spreading your arms for balance, you stay steadily on your feet. Facing toward the stern, you can hear combat to your right and to your left, and you can just make out Fryst trading blows with a mist-shrouded figure at 02. You can also make out Gigson stumbling into the rowboat at N9 and freeing himself from a net with a blade. Captain Merev at 07 also appears to take a blow from an assailant you can't perceive, and then abruptly turns and lashes out into the mist with a cutlass he draws from his belt, eliciting a watery cry from somewhere in the dark.

Shuffling steadily along to the deckspace formerly occupied by the surprisingly agile Salt, you channel your healing gifts to Fryst, just managing to reach him on his elevated stairway position. The cooling, cleansing power of your touch knits together his wound, which, though undeniably grotesque, does not appear terribly life-threatening.

Casting Cure Light Wounds to restore...3+9 = 12 HP to Fryst.

Darkstrider - Just as you think you've got your feet back under you, you lose your balance again and go crashing to the deck. This time, the tilt of the ship on the waves and the slick deck work in conjunction to send you sliding wildly toward the edge of the ship. As you reach the edge, however, you're able to turn your back toward the edge and spread your limbs, crashing into the wooden rail with a splitnering crack but saving yourself from plunging into the water. Brushing yourself off, you stand. (end at M4) During your slide, you think you heard several vicious cries from the center-stern of the boat, but due to your disorientation you're not able to pinpoint them.
((Heh heh...what'd you think that d8 and d20 were for? Slide direction and reflex save...HA! Good thing you rolled a ten...otherwise...OMGWTFBBQ!))

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Fine) | Position: Midships'ish )

Before Lock is able to complete his spell to properly hide himself, a blade flashes before freeing him from his bindings. Apprehensive for a split second, Lock quickly realizes it's Yorkin who's helped him out of his dilemma, who helps Lock to his feet and whispers in his direction, "Shhh...on'y me, little matey. Keep yer wits about ye'...heard yer call and had ta' help, but there's more of 'em towards the stern. Good job workin' yer spells on that first one...worried he'd drag ye off the side. Got anymore tricks up yer sleeves?"

"Oh," Lock whispers back, "I do in fact have several more tricks up my sleeves. Unfortunately, the ideal situation for those tricks is that I'm able to see those I wish to fell. Though, actually...Yorkin, stay next to me. I've got an interesting idea. I don't want to be surprised by any more of those fish men again, so I'm going to create the illusion of a very dense piece of cloud about us, so you can't see into or through it. Beat those scale throats at their own game! Just remember it's a trick, and you'll be able to see through it."

Getting started on his plan, Lock starts weaving a Silent Image of the dense, impenetrable white mass about him and Yorkin. He then sets off to see what he can see.

OOC: Currently at N6, I'll move (straight towards stern) until I'm actually able to see something, friend or foe. If it's just a friend, I'll keep the ruse up, if it's a friend in combat, I'll stop over by him/her to help them out the next round. Be it a foe, same reaction. Assuming I move more than 5ft, my balance check is 20 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2077165&postcount=109). DC 18 Will if a foe actually interacts with the extra dense part of the fog cloud, DC 19 if they are considered surprised/denied Dex for me.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

With the attackers completely beyond his sight through the mist, Nivlan could almost imagine that they didn't exist, only the need for his friends to be healed. It's almost an escape into solipsism.

"There, Fryst," he said as he closed the halfling's wounds with a touch. "Now I gotta tend to the Captain."

OOC, Round 3:For Roger Moore's Eyes Only:Nivlan turns around and casts Cure Light Wounds (for 13 HP in the dice rolling thread) on the Captain.

If a skum moves into a square adjoining Nivlan, but the Captain appears dangerously wounded, Nivlan will defensively cast CLW on the Captain.

If, perchance, a skum moves into an adjoining square to Nivlan, and the Captain is still relatively healthy, Nivlan will defensively cast Sanctuary on himself.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[ Ini: 2 / AC: 14 (When I am standing again) / HP: 61/61 / Position: We'll see about that ]

The ship tilts in a more than unfortunate way for Gauran, sending him sprawling out of Kahlynn's sight, the only reminiscence of him being his curses fading into the mist...

I vow hereby quite in-solemnly that the first of these wretched creatures that falls into my hands will regret the day its putrid hag of a mother spawned it upon this world!!!

Gathering his limbs together he stands again, making a very careful move towards the stern again.


Round 3:

I am assuming here that my move action to stand up is the one from last round, keeping the double fall only for flavour. If not just cancel my second move action in this round.

I would take a move action to move from my starting point at M4 to O4, which requires no balance check because 10 feet is a quarter of my speed.

There is a rowing boat in the plan there, but as Chicken wrote to me that I ended up against the railing I assume here that I am neither in the boat nor do I need to pass through it, but can move along its side. Again, if that is not the case, adjust please.

I would then take a second move action to move another 10 feet without a balance check with the intention to end up in Q4, however, if the stairs cost another square of movement I'll end up in P4 then.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan
(Round 3, Init: 22 | AC: 14 | HP: 26/26 (Healthy) | Position: On the Move)

Shut up!

Swinging around, he shifts his grip, grasping the edge of the deck, relying on the fog to shield his hands from any eyes as he passes, and shimmies sideways along the side of the boat, eyes straining for a pair of legs on his level.

DMsI'm not sure how this goes mechanically. He's changed his climbing to enable him to get a grip on the edge of the boat or the poles in the railing, if there are any, to give him added support, and to allow him to look on board as he moves past. I'm assuming this will slow him down some, as he's climbing in a less efficient manner, but it should give him better purchase and a chance to notice skum as he passes them. He also moves with the slope of the deck as it angles up to the poop deck in back, if that takes any distance off.

At any rate, he moves as far as he can, whether its 5 feet or 20 feet, unless he sees a skum. If he sees one within his first move action, however long that is, he'll swing up on deck (hopefully a move action). If he doesn't see one, he continue on towards the stern at whatever rate he can, and, if he sees a skum, stops and waits until he can board.

Sorry... that's kind of complicated. Basically: starting on the side of the boat at K-10, he moves as far as he can along the side of the boat, and is climbing now in whatever way can allow him better purchase (maybe a reflex save if he falls) and allows him to look up onto the boat. He will continue moving until he can no longer move, or until he sees a skum on the deck above, at which point he will stop and swing aboard, if he has the movement.

Unless he can use his eldritch blast while climbing...

[Avernaith]

Sparky
( Init: 9 | AC: 22 | HP: 30/30 (Good) | Position: Starboard Rail )

Sparky looks worriedly between the receding bulk of Gauran and the reassuring nearness of Kahlynn, then he steps up on his toes to look over the rail and down into the foggy sea. But if I go to the stern, that leaves Kahlynn all alone up here....and what if the real attack is from up here?

OOC: Still not at all sure what I can see or hear, so I'd like to make active Spot and Listen rolls at this point, and try to stab something fishy if the opportunity approaches.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn
Round 3
(Init:18 l AC 16 l HP 44/44 Position: nearly amidships)

Kahlynn stays crouched on the deck, watching the quickly disappearing form of Darkstrider. Slowly and carefully. A dead healer does no one any good...
She puts a hand on Sparky's shoulder, head tilted, listening intently. Her whisper is as quiet as she can make it and still let breath past her lips.
"Can you tell what's going on?"

Once again active Listen, please, specifically focusing on wet fishy sounds

[The_Snark]

Adur


[size=1](Init: 14 | AC: 18 | HP: 33/41 Position: O-6
Adur frowns as he warily backs further into the mist, hoping to evade his assailant. He's too close. The others can't see what's happening in this fog, can they? And I cannot tell friend from foe. I could cast a spell to wash away the fog, but not with that creature so near... His decision made, Adur spreads his arms, and the cloak turns into wings as he takes the form of a great albatross, beating up and away from the creature. He takes his bearings in the fog, winging for what he hopes is a safe haven: the crow's nest.

(Shapechanging into bird form. +2 Str, +2 Reflex, AC 14, 40' fly speed. Using the withdraw action and moving to the crow's nest; blindsense and a 40' fly speed ought to cover that.)

[Velvet Elvis]

Shael
Though you remain fairly confident in your invocation's ability to keep your feet and hands reasonably secure, you make your way aft while holding onto the railing with your left hand...just in case. A good thing, perhaps, as within no more than six feet, or so, something appears from the mists before you, entirely unexpectedly despite your attempted vigilance. A face slashed with a wide-open betracian mouth, spans of yellowish-green scales interlaced with cord-like sinews and wide, dead-black eyes flashes from the mists before you. Ragged ridges that must pass for teeth, tear into your chest as you gasp reflexively at the sudden onslaught. Pain whips through your body, your bracing hand almost releasing its hold.

Although the creature's fishlike face has already mostly receded into the mists, you note that its position relative to you indicates that you must have caught it either just about to climb over the rail and onto the deck, or in the process of dropping overboard. You can see the misty shadow of one arm reaching upwards to what must be the same rail you cling to; the rest of its form hanging downward. It appears to be about your size.

(This is a pseudo-surprise situation which allowed the Skum a free attack (won an opposed roll). You may continue with the remainder of your first move action, if you wish. You have 15' left, as you've only moved 5'. However, a non-withdrawal move will incur an AoO, as usual. Alternately, you may attack it first, with your higher init. Or...?)


Lock
(bc forgot to tell you about those immediately around you. Now that you're out of the net, you would have seen and recognized them prior to your first action.)

Yorkin appears to have the plan in hand and nods for you to lead the way. In front of you stands Adur, apparently in the planning stages of some unknown maneuver, and flinching from something farther aft and out of sight. It appears he may be being attacked by something, though you don't actually see anything doing so at the moment. Adur appears not to notice you as he concentrates, his arms rising up and out to each side.

You see to your left, the lower steps of the starboard poop deck stairs. You can see the small figure of Jorme standing upon them, hovering over the prone form of the fish-man you put to sleep with your spell. It requires little deduction to see that Jorme has finished the job you started. To your right is the helm, with Captain Merev still in place, and squinting. Whether he is injured or concentrating on feeling the keel through the wheel's spokes, you can't determine.

(Your action ends here for the moment. You've expended no part of your round to determine this info. How would you like to modify your plans?)

KahlynnYou remain down on one knee, clutching your holy symbol as if squeezing it would milk its source of protection. Your ears are open to the sounds around you, and your eyes peer into the hazy white gloom of fog. The sounds of combat continue astern, both directly and farther to port, and amidst it, you hear the sound of Lock and Yorkin just aft of you, Yorkin still visible nearby. Their words are indistinct, both muffled by the thick fog and mangled by the din of combat.

Sparky seems to have joined in your quest to hear and see whatever could be heard or seen in the general vicinity. He seems to be looking at, or perhaps, through you as he concentrates.

(Sparky: K-05)

Fryst
(Rnd2)

You see Salt make a deft maneuver beside you, leaping to the edge of the poop deck stairs and pushing himself back and up to the higher deck (to P-08), a manever that would likely find most others on their backs. As your rage wells, you see the rather vague form of Salt's arm thrusting a sword at the equally vague form of what you now know to be a Skum netter, at least according to the crew's parlance. Salt's actual strike is lost in the mist, but the gurgling yell from the Skum is clue enough that the thrust hit home. Well, that and the spray of fetid goop that spurts across your face and chest.

This ignominy seems to fire your rage even faster and you're sent into a whirling, adrenaline-charged frenzy up a few steps toward the already injured fish-man. With greatclub swinging wildly, you attempt to strike, but both times, your target is suddenly lost in the doubly-misty overlay of spirit-world upon fog. The Skum seems to reflect your anger and rather than retaliate against Salt who's opened a nice hole in his chest, he chooses to attack you with a bite and two flailing claws, one of which catches you across the chest, the others being dodged as you dance across the stairs. (You suffer 4HP damage.)

(You remain at O-09, but near the top of the steps.)

(Rnd3)

You continue your assault upon the now double-teamed Skum, first with an angled swipe at the thing's scaled upper thigh, connecting with a sharp sound like that of chainmail dropping to grass. The thing yells in pain, its watery voice issuing from a head now tilted up in reflexive response to the pain. Though it is in dire shape, it isn't yet dead, and you're rage is intent on seeing that situation rectified. You push a foot against a step, turning your angle of attack completely around, and bringing your greatclub across and directly toward the fish-man's upper thigh, again, but this time from the direct opposite side. The sensation you receive through the solid wooden body of your club might sicken some of lesser fortitude. The creature screams from the excruciating pain of having its leg nearly severed as result or your front and back assault to the same point, the bony cartilage within crunching loudly, greenish, ichor-like blood squirting copiously to the left, right, and back toward you in a warm spray.

Your scaly enemy drops like a stone, sliding a bit down the stairs. You glance briefly at its now lifeless eyes, noting subconsciously through your rage, that those eyes look exactly the same dead as they did alive.

(Details: Before you killed the Skum, you noticed Salt appeared to be maneuvering away from both the one you killed and, apparently, also from an attacker farther aft of him. In addition, he appeared to have opted to attack the unseen foe with his rapier, rather than the one you subsequently downed.)

SparkyYou remain where you are, listening intently, eyes kept peeled for any sign of motion or shadowy forms within the body of fog that envelops you. The sounds of battle are plain to hear aft as well as aft and to port. The voices of Lock and Yorkin, as well, are just audible, but their words are lost in the muffled din. You still see Kahlynn on one knee nearby, appearing to be doing as you are: listening; watching. When her gaze crosses your position, she appears to take no notice of you, as if looking through you in her state of concentration.

(Kahlynn: L-06)

Nivlan
Behind you, you hear Gigson rattling around in the bow of the port lifeboat, but your attention is more strongly drawn elsewhere.

Above you, near the forward edge of the slightly overhanging poop deck, you see Salt engaged, at least partly, in combat with one of the invaders farther to port, though his maneuverings seem to indicate concern for more than just the one. Likewise, you see Fryst's small form and big wooden club cutting through the fog in a whirling frenzy as he assaults the same creature. With two sickening thunking sounds each followed by a terrible cry of pain from the scaled victim, Fryst's pounding greatclub having nearly severed the thing's leg, it drops quickly, settling across the upper poop deck steps.

Assuming the thing is dead, and of no direct threat to you, you turn to note Captain Merev's already dark jacket, darkened even more around one shoulder. You step closer and begin forming the conduit of power leading from your own inner soul to the Captain's painful wound. Muttered words issue from your mouth as you concentrate, Merev seemingly almost oblivious as he squints into the fog, apparently due to the pain. But even as you finish, his squint continues, and you realize he is probably concentrating on the feel of the wheel's spokes in his hands. He was worried enough about the fog, and no doubt worried further by the prospect of grounding with hostile boarders making matters worse.

At the conclusion of your channeling effort, you gain the sense that the wound the Captain had suffered is now a memory. At least physically.

Gauran(Your earlier round resolution has changed dramatically given other late incoming info, so everything below is new.)

You attempt to squeeze your bulk along the rail, almost hanging your rear over it. The sound of Jorme's high-pitched voice calls out from nearby, "Gods kill this damn fog!" This is quickly followed by the sound one makes when slipping but just barely managing to keep from falling. You can see what Jorme has found so troublesome: the fog seems inordinately thick to port where you remember the starboard poop deck stairs should be. You know Jorme struggles on those stairs, so you unconsciously filter his sounds away, but your ears also just pick up a gurgling sound from somewhere farther aft.

Despite the strange situation, the intent to leap over both Jorme and the stairs to a, hopefully, more effective position, remains your focus.

Crouching, the muscles of your legs bunching tightly, you whip your arms down then up as you release the coiled tension...you rise into the fog with a loud grunt. All you can see as you move through the cool, moist air, is the faint edge of the poop deck somewhat below you, and the misty form of a fish-man at the edge of the top stairs. The thing was most likely engaging Jorme on the stairs below, but with the blinding fog now in place there, it's apparently been on its guard and watching closely for movement in the fog. It sees you, now, rather than the halfling and extends its neck forward with a gaping mouth headed for your shoulder! It's ridgelike teeth don't find full purchase in your flesh, but find enough to leave you with a painful wound.

Your seemingly slow-motion flight through the fog continues. At its zenith, you see another fish-man--this time with a bluish cast to its scales, different from the yellowish-green of the other--which appears to be on the poop deck, just above the spot where you intend to land. Also unlike the first, this one bears a shield of overlapping tiles of some sort, and a barb-headed spear. At first, it appears the otherwise annoying fog has benefitted you more than it, but at the very last instant it turns its head just enough to notice you, its reflexes instinctively thrusting the spear at you before you can begin your downward arc. Luck is with you this time, as the fish-man's attempt to skewer that same shoulder now already bleeding, fails, and the spear's tip goes wide. A gurgling moan is released, no doubt in frustration.

This unexpected distraction is enough, by itself, to make your landing more precarious than normal, but that turns out to be only one factor involved.

In the midst of your downward arc, everything goes a greyish white. The fog has suddenly become so thick you can no longer see anything but its enveloping blandness. Your instincts as an experienced cliff-leaper are taxed to their limits, but the sudden blinding fog, the slippery deck, the attacks, the pain in your shoulder...it all takes its toll, ultimately causing you come down hard, your heels too far forward. You crash awkwardly to the deck, sliding footlong to port. A voice rings out almost in your ear, though nothing intelligible: a startled expression of surprise. A half-second later, you feel yourself crashing into something that, in turn, topples over onto you. Whatever it is, it is showering you with expletives too fast and grumbling to be understood. Somehow, the obscuring fog you'd passed through a mere second before seems to have already diminished to it's usual self, and within that limited visibility you see that the object riding your gut, is a very disgruntled Captain Merev. Your right foot seems to have hit the helm post, and that is all that's likely kept your bulk from continuing portward.

(The bite inflicted 8HP damage.)
(You are currently prone in O-07 with Captain Merek on your stomach.)

Mechanics involved
Step 1: You jump. No rolls involved.
Step 2: You pass one fish-man standing at the top of the stairs. DC10 vs his "awareness" (avg of listen/spot) to see you in time to react with an AoO as you glide by. It sees you very easily (net 20 on roll).
Step 3: Attack/damage resolution. The odd circumstances would penalize both of you (time frame, body in motion, for it; inability to doge effectively for you), however, I'll keep it simple and have them cancel each other. So, you remain at AC14. Bite: 1d20+X=21, hit; 20% concealment: 1d100=41 - ok; dmg: XdX+X=8
Step 4: You pass fish-man #2 (P-06). DC10 vs his "awareness" just as before: 1d20+X=11--just sees you in time to strike. 1d20+X=12 vs AC14 = miss!
Step 5: Landing. Normally, you would land fine on a successful Jump, however, we have balance check issues involved. In this case, I'm going to assess a fairly conservative -4 to your balance check for obvious reasons (a 350+lb critter dropping at an angle from overhead onto a slippery surface it can't see until it hits it). So, a balance check is needed to avoid slipping and possibly sliding somewhere. I'll set this at DC15 flat (this is a pretty tricky maneuver, as far as I'm concerned; no other modifiers since you're not actually trying to move anywhere along the deck). Your balance starts at +2 in this case with a -4 circumstance modifier, so a -2 net: 1d20-2=5 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2109988&postcount=116) vs DC15 - failed; slip check on 1d4, 1-2 = fall in same square, 3=slide south, 4=slide/roll southwest onto cargo hold door: 3 = slid into Capt Merev's square (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2110013&postcount=117). Merev now needs a check to avoid being knocked over; reflex-4: 1d20+4=9 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2110040&postcount=118) - failed! You successfully jumped, slid into and knocked down Merev.

((Note for future reference: the +10 move you get as a barbarian has no bearing on your standing Jump check, though it will if you actually move 40' to make a jump (+4 bonus for the extra 10' move rate). This is because your standing jump ability is based on your race, not your class.))

[Annarrkkii]

Shael
(Round 3, Init: 22 | AC: 14 | HP: 26/26 (Healthy) | Position: On the Move)

Ahrg... no... NO! The pain lances through his limbs, and Marix surges through his mind, taking action. The power holding him to the rail increases to a flood, and a snarl twists his lips, his grip becoming whiteknuckled on the rail. He swings back to face his foe...

DMs!Alright. I'm guessing that, what with the pain and everything, that I was hit for. For how much damage? That might affect my action, but I doubt it. I'm going to risk attacking it. Its hurt already, and I'm reasonably sure that it I am already. This is not cool. Not how I wanted this to work out. I'm not going to risk the possibility of staying within its reach and trying to cast defensively, what with concealment and everything, so I'm going to swing up over the rail as a withdraw action away from it. Is this still part of my initial, last-turn move? If so, do I then get to take my regular turn, and perhaps attack it?

[Velvet Elvis]

ShaelDM<->PC crunch

Alright. I'm guessing that, what with the pain and everything, that I was hit for. For how much damage?

Whoops, forgot to mention that: 6HP.


I'm going to risk attacking it. Its hurt already, and I'm reasonably sure that it I am already. This is not cool. Not how I wanted this to work out. I'm not going to risk the possibility of staying within its reach and trying to cast defensively, what with concealment and everything, so I'm going to swing up over the rail as a withdraw action away from it. Is this still part of my initial, last-turn move? If so, do I then get to take my regular turn, and perhaps attack it?

Withdrawing is normally a full-round action, but given the conditions and your very limited move so far, I'm reducing it to a standard action.

But you will lose the remainder of your first move action to begin the standard action. However, you may move over the rail and onto the deck as part of your withdrawal maneuver (i.e. count it as a 5' move), which will allow you a 40' max move distance.

Your spiderclimb will grant you +10 to your balance checks once on deck, as discussed earlier, but a natural 1 will still stall you--though not cause you to actually slip or fall--somewhere along your movement path. I'll roll any needed balance and peripheral checks. Just tell me where you wish to move from your current position at L-10 (and your path to get there).

[Velvet Elvis]

Everyone aboard hears two gurgling cries of pain cut through the fog in rapid succession. There's no doubt something's been seriously injured or killed at or near the port poop deck stairs.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan
(Round 3, Init: 22 | AC: 14 | HP: 20/26 (Scathed) | Position: On the Move)

Thinking better of an attack, Shael shifts his grip on the railing and swings smoothly over the rail, planting his feet. And turning to face downward. His fist draws back, the power surging along his limbs, as soundless, heatless green bolts of energy dancing along his outstretched arm, balling around his clenched fist.

DMs: Grahk. Okay. If I interpret this right, my round 3 move was to swing over five feet and get attacked. Now, my round 4 action is to swing over the railing and launch a sickening blast, (DC 15) at the skum, even though that results in an attack of opportunity, and even though doing so entails some concealment (not sure how much). I'm off to roll if you confirm this.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk
(Round 4, Init: 3 | AC: 13 | HP: 39/39 (Feelin' Groovy) | Position: O-8)

"If that thing's not still around, Captain, I'm headed up to see if anyone else is hurt."

Nivlan turns toward the poop deck, calling, "DOES ANYONE NEED HEALING?"

OOC, Round 4:DMs onlyOOF! Nivlan's goal is to gain the top of the stairs at P9, but apparently he's not paying attention to his feet (again). He gets knocked down but he gets up again (thumping a tub the entire time). You're never gonna keep him down.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge

DM Info - 3rd round action.

I suppose Jorme could join us if he wants, but my mind thinks at least one NPC would probably stay near the steering captain? Eh. I'm still making my illusory concealment and moving towards the stern with it and stopping before I walk up to a beastie. I'm assuming that the supposed fish man further aft that may be attacking Adur ought to be the first one I encounter. I'll keep my eyes peeled for him and move even more in his direction heading back if it's not the straight route I'd already had planned. Can't engage something I can't see.

[Velvet Elvis]

Shael
Quickly calculating your options, you decide to make use of the mists that have otherwise been your bane. As the fish-face recedes you, likewise, pull back a bit and roll yourself over the railing onto the deck. Despite the slick surfaces involved and the various coils, wooden boxes and gaffs laying about near the rowboat, your purchase is solid and you pull to a half-crouch, arm raised in anticipation. The eldritch energy surges to your fist, warping in strange glowing bands that faintly illuminates the fog with an unearthly greenish light.

(I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that you're using the withdraw action which I allowed as a standard move, rather than just backing off, so no AoO from fish-boy. You are now at L-09.)

LockPerservering with your plan, you decide to slip past Adur and continue aft, only to find yourself faced with the vague outline of a closed door. Memory serves well enough to remind you that this is the door that leads into the galley which lies directly below the poop deck, whose overhanging edge, as you crane your neck up to see...well, partly see...floats several feet above you.

(You face starboard at this point.)

In that moment, you see Jorme suddenly falter in his dodging maneuvers, nearly falling to the stairs. He exclaims, "Gods kill this damn fog!" The obvious cause of his new distress is your illusion which has draped over him and the stairs, leaving him effectively blinded within the nearly opaque figment.

As you consider what to do, Adur, who had been almost motionless beside you, though with his arms raised to the sides, suddenly ceases to exist. In his place, a grey and white bird that, with some difficulty, manages to launch itself into the air on broad wings. It quickly disappears into the mists above, just barely managing to avoid the rigging which, fortunately, had been reefed before entering the fogbank. Unlike Jorme, the bird didn't appear to be bothered by the sudden change in the fog.

Behind you, Yorkin comments in a surprised voice, "Well, I'm goin't'be havin' some extra grog when I git back t'land!"

An idea forms in your mind, and you glance about to remind yourself of your position and the obstacles that might be in play, but as you do, a loud grunt emanates from the fog somewhere before you. Within a mere second, you hear the sounds of gurgling grunts from ahead and to your right, above, on the poop deck, and simultaneously the huge form of Gauran flying through the fog--straight down at you. Your quick reflexes just manage to leave you unflattened as he lands. You release an unintelligible exclamation of surprise, as the goliath's huge body soundly hits the deck, his feet sliding from beneath him. Momentum carries him portward, and results in Captain Merev toppling to land atop Gauran. Almost instnantaneously, Merev releases a string of gruff expletives from a mouth now merely inches from Gauran's chin.

(I had to redo some of your earlier resolution. This will constitute the end of your round.)
(You currently see Jorme on the stairs at O-05, a yellowish-green fishman--occasionally--as it bobs in the mist at P-05, Gauran on his back in O-07 with Merev on his gut.)

AdurYour concentration manifests in a change of form to that of something resembling an albatross. You briefly feel the sensation of webbing growing between your toes as your form shifts your point of view downward three feet. The rest you've felt many times before: the oddness of your arms bending and flushing to your sides, the angle of your knees reversing, your face warping to that of a strong bill, and your vision--what there is of it in this fog--splitting and losing the more familiar comfort of binocularity.

As the shifting completes, you push yourself into the air with a mental grunt of effort, extending huge wings that catch the thick fog and turn it to your advantage. Though your earlier spell grants you the sense to see your shipmates and some that you're sure are definitely not, you find yourself essentially maneuvering based on the flashes of objects below you.

Immediately, you dodge around Yorkin, who you found was standing right behind you as you leapt into the air. He was apparently staring at you as you transformed and was in the midst of uttering some words when you grazed the top of his head with your feet just before tucking them into their flight position. Angling toward what you believe to be due forward to the bow, you fly directly toward two mental signatures, rising slightly to avoid them both. As you glide by, you see that the first is Kahlynn crouched to the deck, and the other Sparky, off a bit to starboard. Sparky watches as you fly by, with a look of wonder in his eyes--not unusual for him, of course. Kahlynn seems not to notice you.

You veer a bit to port, and achieve your desired position just at the bow. You backstroke to land upon a crossbeam set between the two curved sections of gunwale that form the pointed prow. From here, you see nothing but the fog, but in your mind, you can still make out a number of forms clustering near the rise of the poopdeck. Perhaps to your relief, you detect nothing out and below in the water other than small signatures whose motion seems to support the idea that they are most likely just indigenous fish, probably drawn to the unusual presence of the ship's keel.

(You are now at G-7.)

KahlynnFrom behind, you suddenly hear the distinct sound of broad wings flapping, but before you can turn your head, the sound passes just above you, continuing quickly out of sight toward the bow. You catch enough of a glimpse to determine that it is a large bird of a type that seems consistent with those typically found near sandy shores or rocky outcroppings at the edges of islands.

SparkyFrom somewhere aft, you suddenly hear the distinct sound of broad wings flapping. Turning to look, you see a large grey and white bird suddenly appear, bank up a bit to avoid Kahlynn's crouched form, and continue on and out of sight toward the bow. As it passes by, you get the distinct sensation that the one black eye that was angled toward you was quite well aware of your presence. You've seen such birds before, and are fairly confident that it is a typical sort, at least in form, that tends to inhabit the sandy shores of most islands, as well as the rocky outcroppings that form the outer edges of many others.

[Avernaith]

Sparky
( Init: 9 | AC: 22 | HP: 30/30 (Good) | Position: Starboard Rail )

Sparky looks from Kahlynn to the stern of the ship, concern crinkling his brow. "Miss Kahlynn, I think we should go back there. If the Fish-Men are going to attack the bow, we can always run back up here I suppose. Are you coming back with the rest of the party? You can follow me if you're not sure where to go."

Sparky heads back alongside the starboard rail, out to the poop deck where the combat seems to be most intense. If you see fishy scales, Sparky, just stab them in the back. Twice. Whew! First combat, first combat...

OOC: Making a move along the starboard rail until I can close into combat (either 20' to the poop deck stairs or 30' to the actual poop itself). Yes, my Speed is 30' (Quick Trait). Balance and extra d8 & d20 to follow. If I need to make attacks, please let me know and I'll amend my post and place the rolls in the dice thread.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn
(Init:18 l AC 16 l HP 44/44 Position: nearly amidships)


Kahlynn nods, forcing herself to her feet, her voice holding more than a little of a quaver. "Of course, we'll ..."

She glances up, eyes as wide as can be. "Yes, they may need us there ..."

She follows after the halfling, rehearsing prayers for healing in her mind.

movement towards the fighting. I can't believe I'm moving towards the fighting

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge

DMs' info, 3rd round

I'm going to try and not give both me and Yorkin away as of yet but still help Jorme out. Nodding in Jorme's direction for Yorkin's benefit I'll head up the stairs and let my illusory fog just consumer Jorme (I do believe I left 5ft in front of me). That at least will have the possiblity of confusing the fish man, and maybe give Yorkin the chance to do something (or the both of us next round).

p.s. I'm assuming coordinates are to follow? ;)

[The_Snark]

Adur

The bird lifts its wings as it hops down to the deck; as it does, its form changes, outstretched wings melting back into outstretched arms and feet touching the deck. Adur lowers his arms, glad that there are no enemies here. He begins to speak once more, calling up a rain that will hopefully sweep the fog away.

((Casting Cloudburst, SC p. 49, targeted to the bow. The spell has a full-round casting time, so nothing will happen until the next round. Hopefully, the resulting rain will clear away the fog, though visibility still won't be perfect. If there are issues with the spell working like that, I'll rework my action.))

[Velvet Elvis]

Nivlan (addenda to your earlier round resolution)But, then there's the saying about best laid plans. Just as you conclude your words to Merev and utter a yelling offer of aid into the foggy whiteness, a vague, large form slides just into visiblity on the starboard side of the helm. It barrels quickly along the deck, impacting the helm with one bare foot, twisting to the side, and knocking Merev from his feet, to land across the thing's gut.

A blink or two later, you realize that the huge form is, of all things, Gauran.

[Velvet Elvis]

(All)

You hear the high-pitched voice of Jorme call out in annoyance, "Gods kill this damn fog!"

This is soon followed by another voice, that of Nivlan calling out an offer of aid, "DOES ANYONE NEED HEALING?"

Thus we close round 3, the most frickin' complex thing I've ever seen.

You may now post your intended actions for round 4.

Please include as many if/then options as you can think of, within reason, to expedite things. This coming round, I'm going to revert back to waiting until all actions are essentially resolved, whether in OOC or via PM, before posting any of them. Round 3 required several revisions because of my attempt to provide running feedback. It's not practical. So proceed as noted.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Considering) | Position: Right under the poop deck. )

Lock quietly hisses at Jorme above him on the stairs, "Move back boy! The thickness is a trick. Come at least 10 feet."

Round 4! (Below because the spoiler tags are being difficult)

OOC: I will begin by shifting to the fog on N5 and O5 to O5 and P5, hoping Mr. Yellow Scales has failed his will save. Hopefully that draws him and maybe others out. I'll await further developements to act further.

Also, I'm assuming Yorkin is at N6?

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

Nivlan yelped in alarm.

OOC, Round 4:For da' DM's:Given the addendum to Round 3, Nivlan will attempt to grab the helm to keep the wheel from spinning out of control. Will this require some sort of roll?

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[Ini: 2 / AC: 14 / HP: 53/61 Bitten / Position: ON the helm]

Shuffling along the railing Gauran gets increasingly irritated by the loss of time the slippery deck imposes on him.
The sound of fighting before him alerts him to foe's presence, but all he can see is the small frame of Jorme in the fog.
Determined to make a move beyond Jorme without having to shuffle around him he crouches, his leg muscles bulging, releasing their power by propelling him into the air. Scaled forms reach with teeth and spears for him out of the fog, tearing his flesh as he continues his flight in a now twisted arc, sending him crashing down on the deck, sliding away only to be stopped by the helm and the figure in front of it, Captain Merev.

With a grunt of pain he makes for standing up again, his shoulder bleeding, barely suppressed the rage filling his eyes...

Where did that stinking god forsaken mist thicken so extremely, and why?

OOC ---> End of Round 3

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan
(Round 4, Init: 22 | AC: 14 | HP: 20/26 (Scathed) | Position: On the Move)

Were it not for the fog, Shael would be a truly frightening sight to behold. Green light smolders in his glaring eyes, and dark blood stains the ripped front of his white shirt. His broad-brimmed hat is askew on his head, twisted around and angled back and to the left, exposing his rumpled dark hair. Condensation and sweat bead on his pale skin—his days crisping in the sun now rendered invisible by the bloodless tension in his arms. Every ropy muscle stands out, as green lightning dances around his fist, flickering in the fog. Inside his head, Marix is as alert and focused as Shael himself.

Damn this diabolic fog! We'd have slain half a dozen of these creatures by now, if you could see a damn thing!

ME? You're blaming me?

A flicker of motion in the fog, and, as one, the two hurl a bolt of green energy down over the side.

DMsShael is sidesteping to stand above where he saw the skum, and flinging a sickening blast DC 15 straight downwards at the area where he believes the skum is to be—meaning at the bottom. He is then turning and moving slowly further on deck, moving only 15 ft. to M7, and putting his back to the mast (or whatever the thing at L7 is...)

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[Round 4 / Ini: 2 / AC:7 / HP: 65/73 / Position: Changing...]

Getting his limbs together after his fall Gauran separates himself from Captain Merev and stands again.

He flexes his muscles and, removing his restraints, lets a power rush through him. A scream breaks through his throat, inhumanly loud and telling of a dreadful wrath set free. His features distort in a mixture of rage and pain as his body begins to expand, his muscles bulging with the power of the mountains, ending two good heads larger than before. The fires of an ancient hatred in his eyes, he looks down to the captain and snarls with a thundering voice resembling an earthquake:

"Back off. Someone is holding the helm already. I need more room."

Having said those words he swings his giant hammer over his head, and with a scream of rage bashes it down on the deck in the foggy recesses where the foes are hiding.


DMs only

Move action: Stand up
Free action: Trigger Rage
Free action: Speech
Standard action: Attack Square P06

I have now 10' reach and I am large, so I guess I can attack the Square on the Poop Deck without problems, the only thing you have to do is roll for the concealment of the Skum standing there.

My rolls are:

Attack: 29
Damage: 26

As stated, Concealment roll is done by you. I hope I hit the creature, would be a shame about the ship's planks :smallbiggrin:

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn
(Init:18 l AC 16 l HP 44/44 Position: in motion, towards the stern)

Kahlynn moves cautiously towards the sounds of fighting, using the rail to guide her path. Pelor hear me, and help me do thy will...

I am going to attempt to heal Darkstrider as soon as I have a visual fix- he's the closest, as i figure it, and the loudest!!

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

OOC, Round 4 (twice modified):No peeking!If Merev will take the wheel, then Nivlan will revert to his original action--which was to fall on his face and get back up. (Stupid slippery deck. Stupid nonexistent DEX modifier. Stupid zero ranks in Balance.)

[KuH]

Fryst

In quick response to Nivlan's question, Fryst's voice hisses forth from the mist, sounding like a spitting mad cat. 'I'm f-f-f-fine. F-f-fish-f-f-face is-s-sn't. S-s-salt!!'

Please update me on my stats - I'm not sure if I got any healing.

Fryst will move towards where he saw Salt, and try to help engage Salt's enemy. He's a little too mad to worry about such things as positioning - he just wants to get in and go crazy.

Balance check 1d20+5; third (?) round of rage; attack roll if he sees an enemy 1d20+10; double miss check; 1d8+6

[Velvet Elvis]

ShaelYou can see the fish-man's yellowish-green scaled, heavily clawed hang clinging to the port rail a bit farther aft of you as you build your energies. Currently, then, the thing is still hanging over the side, most likely on his way up (else it probably would have dropped off last round). Your blast hits, eliciting a gurgling yell. Post blast, the hand on the rail remains, gripping tightly. You have no indication whether the sickening took effect.

You then move off toward M-07 without concern for an AoO given your relative positions (i.e. the fish-man fairly obviously can't see you regardless of the fog, as he's hanging over the side as you move away). Your position places you onto the cargo hold door, which is raised some off the deck surface, facing NE/starboard-aft.

Upon reaching M-07, you catch sight of three misty forms: Kahlynn (L-06; facing E/aft), Gauran (N-07; facing E/aft).

Shortly after your arrival, you suddenly see Yorkin appear (N-06; facing NE/starboard-aft).

A couple seconds later, Gauran releases a rather nasty grunt and within another second enlarges to a height beyond your ability to see through the fog. He also expands outwards in your direction and forces you off the cargo hold door and forward into L-08. This incurred a reflex save vs DC10: 1d20+5=20, so you managed to avoid being knocked over into that square, but you are now displaced there.

Now back there, you see Mr. Fishy (M-09) engaged in combat with someone to aft, apparently also in the rowboat with him/it.

LockYou hop over the rowboat's side and find good footing on a cross-plank that serves as a seat. Once there (facing E/aft), you reorient your illusion to the desired position (O/P-05/06), angling the entire cube upward so allow at least some coverage of the poop deck sections you indicated. Remember, the poop deck is a bit over 8' from the main deck. Also, the stairs are very steep, rising that distance within about 2.5 horizontal feet. I don't want to get more complicated on something like this, so assume for the sake of argument, that you have your chosen squares covered sufficiently.

You can still see Jorme (O-05) looking rather disoriented upon the stairs and Yorkin (N-06) now no longer within your illusion, who appears to be waiting on your next suggestion. Despite the fog, you can tell he's becoming a bit disgruntled. From here, you can't see any skum. However, you just barely catch an odd gurgling sound from aft.

You hear some rather loud gurgling to port.

At some point, you see a rather fast moving Sparky go slipping past you along the starboard gunwale, down between it and the rowboat. He continues forward to the stairs, and appears to have continued even farther, climbing the outer edge (that is not within the bounds of your illusion), on up to the poop deck.

AdurYou begin to cast your spell. Your assumption that the rain might clear the fog in the area of effect is valid, so there's no reason to consider an alternative.

FrystYou hear some rather loud gurgling toward the bow.

You move up the stairs, stepping over the corpse of the fish-man you exterminated earlier (at P-09) and catch sight of another fish-man, similar to the other, but with a bluish cast to its scales, and bearing a barbed spear and a shield that appears to be covered with overlapped shells or large scales (Q-08; facing W/forward). It's currently in melee with Salt (P-08; facing E/aft).

You let loose with a pair of greatclub attacks but miss the first due to concealment, and the second due to some other reason (i.e. crappy roll).

Note: Your round was already resolved by blue chicken before you checked back in.

SparkyYou make your way along the starboard gunwale beside the rowboat for some of the way, and eventually gaining the stairs. As you do, you notice that the fog there seems exceptionally thick and is obscuring anything that might be on the stairs. You can just see about a foot, or so, of the starboard edges of the stairs, and hop onto them. Once there, you notice the thicker fog extends farther aft of the stairs, though you can't tell how far back. You avoid that thicker fog and proceed to your intended destination (P-04). Once there, your sensitive ears tell you there's something moving around just to port, within the heavier fog (P-05).

Since you can't tell what it is, and have little chance of hitting something you can't see, you pause defensively as you consider the situation. Nothing leaps or strikes out at you from the fog...in any direction.

NivlanMerev rises from the deck and quickly resumes the wheel. He looks royally pissed, and casts a glance your direction, but says nothing.

Meanwhile, Guaran has shifted his position to stand upon the aft cargo bay door (N-07).

You hear some rather loud gurgling toward the port-bow (i.e. SW). Let's assume the sound startled you, you spun to face port and caught your feet on the edge of the raised rim of the cargo hold, thus losing your balance and flopping down.

As you rise, you catch sight of Gauran upon the right cargo bay door, suddenly exploding in size, now with his head and shoulders out of sight in the fog, and his stance spanning across the cargo hold doors and somewhat to port (he now occupies M/N-07/08).

GauranYou hear some rather loud gurgling to port.

Your facing is assumed to be E/aft, for obvious reasons.

You see Merev stand and resume the helm, casting a nasty glance, not to you, but toward Nivlan who stands to his right (O-08), or more precisely is resuming his feet after tripping over the edge of the cargo hold door's raised edges.

You snarl at Merev at this point, though he's already resumed the helm. It's then Merev gives you a nasty glance of your own.

You then enter mountain rage and bloat yourself to sickening proportions. As you do, you feel that you've shoved someone/something off the forward cargo door (behind you), but otherwise, it appears no one was in the way. You are now, let's see, mountain rage adds "about two feet" to your height, so figure you're a flat 10' tall at the moment. You can no longer see your feet at all, or anyone less than 5' tall without bending down to look. Your balance check will increase by +2, though, due to bigger feet.

The cargo hold creaks under your now immense weight, but it doesn't seem as though they will collapse. At least not immediately.

Just after you bloat yourself, you feel a sudden soothing effect on your back, left side. The effect rushes through you and you feel the gashes in your left shoulder closing. You have been healed. I'll assume you throw a glance in that direction: you see nothing but fog.

Now on to your attack. Given your distance from the target square, you can't see squat. Your attack has a 50% miss chance due to total concealment. You feel your hammer come down hard on the poop deck, but you can't quite tell if you've smashed into something other than that. You don't hear any tell-tale crunching sounds, though you wouldn't anyway, against the loud crashing of your weapon into the wood. Fortunately, you do feel that you haven't put the hammer's head through the deck itself.

If you're interested, you can take a move action to inspect your hammer to see if there's any fish-man goop on it, but otherwise, you're just guessing at this point. Remember, your visibility remains 5', but with your extended reach, even when not swinging, your hammer's head is out of sight unless you intentially bring it closer to your face.

On your next round, assuming you continue to strike out, please describe exactly how you intend to conduct your swing.

KahlynnWhile you await an opportunity to pinpoint Guaran in the fog ahead, you notice Shael pop up to your right, on the forward cargo bay door (M-07). He's facing starboard/aft (i.e. NE) at the moment.

Late in the round you hear Guaran's voice saying, "Back off. Someone is holding the helm already. I need more room." Your cue received, you cast the CLW via reach in the direction you believe Guaran to be (aft, at least more than 5'). As this is a touch attack by nature, I'll assume you gain some sort of feedback: you feel you've found your target and delivered the healing magic to good effect.

Almost simultaneously, you catch sight of Gauran emerging from the mists to your right (M-07) looking much larger than normal, and in fact, getting larger very quickly. After only a moment, his head and shoulders are lost to your sight in the fog above, and though you can't actually see it, you deduce his stance probably spans both cargo bay doors and likely an even larger area. He currently faces away from you, to aft. During this transitional phase, you also see Gauran's growing bulk shove Shael from his spot on the forward cargo bay door, to somewhere out of sight, port of you.

Your initiative is now shifted to 1.

[Velvet Elvis]

(All)

[Late in the round]

You hear a frighteningly loud crash and feel a telltale heavy vibration resonate through the ship's body that tell's you, in no uncertain terms, that something big has impacted the poop deck's surface.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan
(Round 5?, Init: 22 | AC: 14 | HP: 20/26 (Scathed) | Position: Engaging)

The world spins through the fog as Shael reels back from the sudden obstacle, stumbling away from the expanding shape. He twists away at the sound of combat, focusing in on an amphibious shape, half-seen through the haze.

Can't ask for a clearer shot than that...

Shael hesitates, unwilling to reveal Marix's presence to the crew, but, with a snarl, the devil exploded into action, and green light flashed through the fog from his fist.

DMsI'll five hold position, hoping the thing doesn't know I'm there, engaged as it is, and not bother casting defensively as I fling another sickening blast (Still DC 15) at the thing's back. Precise Shot means no worries that he's engaged, and, since I can't see his foe, I'll assume that he doesn't have cover from his enemy. SHOULD the skum die before my action, however, I will instead take a look around and ready an action to sickening blast the first fishy bastard I see. Attack and damage rolls in the roller-thread.[/i]

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn
(Round: 5 l Init:18 l AC 16 l HP 44/44 l Position: the stern)

Light! How in the world ... surely the ship can't hold so much weight! Her attention goes to the stumbling figure before her in the mist; specifically to its injuries. Bolstering her courage, she steps forward and once again calls on her God. Please, please don't let any of those things be too close!

Cure Minor on Shael, since I know he is/was just in sight and reach range. Err .. you know, plus the green fre and all! Moving one block (forward to L7). Thank you!

[KuH]

Fryst

Some feral raging animal noises come from wherever Fryst is at the moment.


[AC: 22, hp: 49/56]

I assume Fryst's position was Q9 for his attacks on the fishman. If appropriate I will 5-foot step to R8 during my attacks (let's say first is not flanking, second is or something) as he rages away and swings.

Two swings to hit, first at +8, second at +10, 20% miss chance rolled twice, with 1d8+6 damage if he hits.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk
(Init: 3 | AC: 13 | HP: 39/39 (okay) | Position...standing--I hope)

Stupid fog! Can't see a thing in it. Nivlan rubs at his derriere, which is by now becoming rather tenderized with his losses of balance.

OOC, Round 5:Don't be a spoilsport!I wish that I knew the action that precedes Nivlan's, since he acts so late in the round. Nevertheless, this is his basic strategy:

If one of his companions calls for help in response to his shouted offer last round, he will make his way toward the voice as best he can and heal as he can.

If he sees one of his companions injured, he will attempt to cast CLW.

If he's accosted by a skum, he'll defensively cast Sanctuary upon himself.

If it seems that nothing else is going to happen, he'll move 10 feet toward the bow. If he encounters a skum, as above. If not, he'll ready an action to cast CLW on an injured companion next round.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[Round 5 / Ini: Still 2 / AC: 7 / HP: 71/71 / Rage Round 2 / Position: Shifting...]

With a low growl Gauran lifts his hammer again and moves closer to the poop deck, taking a quick glance at his hammers' head and ready to strike down any foe that were foolish enough not to vanish into the mists.


DON'T do that! Baaaad player, shame on you... :smalltongue:

Ooookay, let's see. I wish to reverse your proposal from last round and move closer to my hammer instead of moving it closer to me, that should give me the same net result - I am actually taking a 5 foot step as there is only one square in front of me (Well, only two - stupid fat bastard).

I would start haggling about my available actions now, but as I in any event only have one attack I'll dispense with that :smallcool: .

After taking the 5 foot step I should be able to see my impact zone on the poop deck (it is higher than the deck, after all) and any skum gore puddles within it. Apart from this I will of course bash on anything fishy that draws my attention, especially if anyone will eliminate that god-forsaken mist.

As I take four squares I believe my feet are always distributed in a cross pattern if you catch my drift - so if possible I will keep my left foot in front at O06 and my right foot at N07, which should give the captain enough room to operate the helm even with my bulk around.

So:

Technically, at the beginning of round 5 I use my actions in the following order:

- standard action: ready attack against the first foe against which I am allowed an attack

- move action to move me one set of squares ahead, taking O07/N07/O06/N06 as occupied squares

- "free" action to notice any delightfully dead remains of a foe on P06 through the mist, or be terribly disappointed

There is not really any "If"-scenario here as I do not dispose of too many possibilities.

If there is any serious issue with one of my actions I guess I will lose the round, as with the planning of the actions I want I cannot really adjust (e. g. to an impossibility of moving into these squares - gotta notice that first, and then the action's gone).

One last issue: I will never take a blind horizontal hammer swipe to ensure that I am not injuring any allies, and if it is possible for me to notice anything like rope hanging above me or a sail or whatever I
will not take an overhead swing - if by this rules I run out of attack options I'll try to grab the enemy for a grapple attempt.

Otherwise always assume I am taking an overhead swing (THIS fight ONLY, mind you).

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Fine) | Position: Bottom of poop stairs. )

Re-oreienting his illusion somewhat, Lock moves in front of the stairs and clearly sees Jorme was either incapable or decided not to move back as he'd suggested. He still couldn't see the Skum he was trying to disorient's reaction and was overall getting very tired of the matter. It was time to roll the dice.

"Gods damnit," Lock whispers to Yorkin,"We've done the best we can to get over here but we're still having trouble engaging what's left of the enemy. I'm going to drop the fog, if you see an opportunity", take it. Hopefully we got the jump on these slimy sea-bungs."

No longer concentrating on maintaining his illusion spell, Lock makes his best attempt to cast a Sleep spell to incapacitate as many Skum as possible.

Nitty-grittes Rd. 5

OOC: I'm casting Sleep (http://www.systemreferencedocuments.org/35/sovelior_sage/spellsS.html#sleep) centered on P-7 for the 10 foot burst, even though I doubt I'll be able to affect more than one Skum. That's a DC 17 (got it right this time :smallwink:) under normal conditions, but I'm guessing it'll probably be a DC 18 will if the Skum are un-aware of me (Cloaked Casting).

[Avernaith]

Sparky
( Init: 9 | AC: 22 | HP: 30/30 (Good) | Position: Poop Deck )

Sparky considers for a moment as he hears the faint sounds of movement in the fog ahead, then steels his nerve and moves in. If it's scaly, stab it. If it's goliathy, see if it needs help. Whew.

OOC: Advancing into the fog at P05 (5' step), and launching an attack if it's not a friendly

[Velvet Elvis]

ShaelYou clearly take your target unawares and your eldritch blast effectively obliterates the already injured creature, causing a spray of scale-covered chunks and fetid goop to burst outward from the impact point. The skum instantly drops out of sight into the bottom of the lifeboat's bow section. You receive an unpleasant dousing of the gore.

Though you can't ready an action (standard action required) now that you've EBlasted the skum, I'll put you on alert. ... But nothing pops out at you.

You hear a pained yell from starboard aft, around where the poop deck stairs are.

(PS: Please include your attack/damage numbers, and link along with your intended action outline. Speeds things up on my side, and I can use all the time-savers I can get.)

LockYou suggested Jorme move but didn't mention why, so there was no directly compelling reason for him to listen to you. Having failed his disbelieve save and not being able to see you or his surroundings, he settles for hunkering down on the bottom stairs, facing aft with weapons raised defensively.

Okay, your sleep spell is cast successfully. I did a little targeting accuracy check and whatever weird arcane feedback you might get seems to indicate you've hit your intended mark. Thus, you've placed the centerpoint of your spell's emanation in the middle of P-07.

I've drawn the 10' radius of effect onto the map from that point, and as normal, count any square whose center is touched by the radius as a square whose occupant will be considered for effect.

As you feel your spell's emanation flow outward from that point you've targeted in your mind's eye, to your consternation, you see Jorme drop to the steps, ending up snoozing right on top of the previously killed skum's corpse.

On his init, you hear/see: Yorkin exclaims, "Jormy!" as he steps toward the fallen halfling, grabs him by the ankles and attempts to pull him back into his square and out of harm's way. But, such a simple plan cannot go uninterrupted while the agents of ill will watch. Yorkin grabs the halfling's ankles and shifts his weight back in preparation to pull, but despite his usual surefootedness and the relatively small burden, his feet kick out from under him, slipping on the viscous fish-man goop that's drooled down the stairs to puddle around the edges of the lowest step. With a grunt, he rises carefully to his feet, a very irritated look on his rugged face.

Jorme is "helpless" in O-05, with Yorkin now standing in the same square.

If you're really curious about this outcome...This was a simple DC8 reflex save--sort of a weak grease spell effect--and he rolled a 1, which would have failed in any case. Note that Yorkin does have to enter the square a little bit to grab Jorme.
From somewhere port aft you catch a pained yell and Gigson's only partly intelligible voice saying, "Ah! Ye ?am? f??h??e?st! ?e ?e bone? t'?? now!"

From out of the mists above Yorkin's, you see a barbed spear strike down and catch him in the shoulder, then see it yanked back, Yorkin's blood and a few chunks of flesh going with it. The sailor releases an agonized yell.

His yell appears to have drawn Nivlan, as you see him appear from the fog and heavy rain, quickly dropping to a knee and placing his hands on Yorkin's torn shoulder. A bright glow appears there, and Yorkin responds with a grimacing nod.

AdurSince you didn't specify exactly ("targeted to the bow"), I'm going to place the centerpoint of your cloudburst just off the map directly west of you (So ZZ-07), as I'm assuming you wanted to put the entire ship within the area but also clear the air as far ahead of you as possible. This positioning does that. I won't worry about exact targeting vis a vis visibility in this case.

In the distance to aft, you hear a pained yell and the voice of Gigson saying, "A?! Ye da?n f??h-?e?s?! Ye ?? b?nes t'm? ?ow!" The distance and sounds of combat render his words partly unintelligible. Hot on Gigson's heels, you just catch the sound of a watery screech of pain from the same general direction.

Your spell's effect is ushered in by the telltale peal of thunder and you feel the heavy rain begin to fall almost instantly. The sound of the fat drops impacting the deck and various objects, not to mention the additional sound of the rain hitting the ocean's surface, creates a rather loud sphere of white noise.

For the moment, at least, the rain seems to be having little effect on the fog. The net result, fog coupled with driving rain, is rendering surfaces even more slippery and sight and sound further dulled.

FOR ADUR ONLY!At this point your spidey-sense picks up four blips that, given their relative positions, indicate they are in the water. They move rather quickly toward the prow and then begin moving vertically.

You hear a pained yell from starboard aft, around where the poop deck stairs are.

(You didn't actually indicate a separate move for this round, so by assumption, you're on watch. Sorry if I somehow missed an actual move.)

FOR ADUR ONLY!When you see the current battlegrid, please remember that no one else can, as yet, see the critters coming up the prow's hull, hence they aren't on the map. Be sure to relate any relevant info in IC. They'll be on the map for the next turn.

Fryst
I assume Fryst's position was Q9 for his attacks on the fishman.

No, you weren't in Q-09, you were in P-09. Moving to Q-09 would have incurred an unnecessary AoO from the fish-dude, so we left you in the first position from which you could make an attack.

You see Salt and the blue-tinged Skum exchange strikes, but both miss rather widely.

Meanwhile, Gigson passes through your square to reach Q-09. As he does, the blue Skum thrusts his barbed spear in his direction, catching him in the side. Gigson releases a pained yell, "Ah! Ye damn fish-beast! Ye be bones t'me now!" Your own maneuvers make it hard to see, but you do notice that Gigson reappears beside you and the fish-man (Q-09) and delivers two separate short swords strikes to the creature, one in the side and the other in the ribs, eliciting a watery screech of pain. The Skum looks to be in bad condition.

A bit before you attack, it starts to rain heavily (see post following the round resolution post).

You take swing #1, which misses as the target shifts back a bit into the fog. Your second swing follows quickly after the first, catching the skum across the belly as it steps back into view. (You deliver 8HP).

You hear a pained yell from starboard, around where the poop deck stairs are.

Just prior to the close of the round you see Gauran's head and shoulders appear just off the poop deck, and see him reach up high over the mast spar (mast is at P-07), well out of your sight range, but a half-moment after see his greathammer's head come crashing down upon the deck where the Skum you're fighting is located. It misses, though, and is drawn back out of sight.

As for your 5' step, that won't happen because you can see that Gigson is now at Q-09. So, you remain at O-09 for now.

SparkyYou notice the fog seems to thin out all of a sudden and you peer into it, knowing already there's...something...hidden within it...

From somewhere to port, you hear a pained yell and the voice of Gigson saying, "Ah! Ye damn fish-beast! Ye be bones t'me now!" Very shortly thereafter, you hear a watery screech of pain from the same location.

A bit before you attack, it starts to rain heavily (see post following the round resolution post).

You hear an agonized yell from O-05. No words are heard, so it's difficult to tell who it is. The sound doesn't distract you from your plan, and you take a tentative step, then suddenly see the yellowish-green shimmer of scales in the fog. You take the opportunity to strike, the creature fully unaware of your presence so closeby. Thus, you gain a sneak attack with your primary weapon (rapier) on the bugger. Unfortunately, your swing goes a bit wide. However, you fall back on your main attack and followup with a rapier/short sword sequence, connecting with your rapier for 9HP. You remain in P-04, very near the low poop deck railing.

The Skum wheels on you and flails uselessly with claws and bite as you dodge nimbly despite your rather precarious position.

NivlanYou see Gigson hop out of the aft end of the rowboat, climb the poop deck stairs and disappear into the fog of the raised deck. Soon after, you hear him release a pained yell, "Ah! Ye damn fish-beast! Ye be bones t'me now!" which is, itself, soon followed by a watery screech of pain in return.

Adding to the already annoying conditions, a crash of thunder sends a rumble through the ship's hull and is soon followed by a heavy, driving rain. White noise clouds your ears and the glistening sheets that fall before you render visibility no better. In fact, the fog seems to be mostly unaffected by the passage of the millions of heavy drops, only roiling somewhat rather than dispersing.

You hear a pained yell from starboard, around where the poop deck stairs are. It's difficult to tell, but you tend to think it was the gruff voice of Yorkin. In response, you do your best to make your way to his suspected location, brushing past Gauran's now tree-like leg and stepping down off the raised cargo hold, then a few feet through the fog and you see your target. Indeed, it was Yorkin, as can be evidenced by a nasty wound to his shoulder, complete with missing chunks o'beef. You apply your healing hands and remove 7HP of damage. He remains wounded, though obviously not as badly. While you're there dealing with Yorkin, you also notice that Jorme is lying on the stairs very closeby. Actually, he's lying on top of a dead yellowish-green-scaled fish-man that is lying on the stairs. Note that the stairs are very steep, so everything is mostly collected near the base.

On being healed some, Yorkin grimaces and nods at you. You end your round in N-06.

GauranYou see Gigson hop out of the aft end of the rowboat and disappear up the poop deck stairs. Shortly thereafter, you hear him release a pained yell, "Ah! Ye damn fish-beast! Ye be bones t'me now!" which is, itself, soon followed by the faint sound of a watery screech of pain in return.

Adding to the already annoying conditions, a crash of thunder sends a rumble through the ship's hull and is soon followed by a heavy, driving rain. White noise clouds your ears and the glistening sheets that fall before you render visibility no better. In fact, the fog seems to be mostly unaffected by the passage of the millions of heavy drops, only roiling somewhat rather than dispersing.

You hear a pained yell from starboard aft, around where the poop deck stairs are.

Just before you decide what to do, you feel someone or something moving by your leg (N-07). You just make out Nivlan's head sort of floating in the fog below you and towards the starboard side, then it disappears.

You're unsure where to step at this point, with Nivlan somewhere ahead and Captain Merev almost certainly at the helm--and the helm itself is certainly in your way. You need to see, so rather than risk crushing one of your friends or a crewman, you bend a bit to put your head lower into the fog and see that Merev is indeed manning the Helm and Nivlan is where you last saw his head, now down on one knee clearly tending to someone in an adjacent square. Swinging your head around to port, you notice that the area toward the port poop deck stairs appears to be clear enough for you to maneuver and you step that direction instead.

Once there, you see Salt (P-08) facing away from you (aft) and obviously in melee, and juuuust barely see Fryst's little gnome body almost literally whirling around hacking at something that remains a bit out of sight at this stage. You also see a mast at P-07 and the spar stretching from P-08/09 on to starboard probably to P-05/06 at a height of about 5'. However, since you're 10' and the poop deck is raised 8' from the main deck, you're actually only at a level of about 2' above the poop deck.

I've considered the need to peer around in the fog to avoid stepping on a friend to be a standard action, and the move to port (you occupy N/O-08/09, now) to be a 5' step. Despite the strange angle and such, I'm going to give you a sort of careful overhead reach (to avoid the mast spar) hammer-head drop on the square you think a critter is in due to both Salt and Fryst facing that direction and obviously engaging something. It's out of sight due to the fog, so you have a 50% miss chance, which I'll roll first:

1d100 (1-50 is a concealment miss): 18. Feh. So you swing your hammer in a controlled arc, come down somewhere in the right square but you know you haven't hit anything.

KahlynnIn the distance to port aft, you catch a pained yell and the nearly unintelligible voice of Gigson saying, "??! ?? ?am? ?????b?a??! Y? ?? ????? ?'?? n?w!" Very soon thereafter you hear a watery screech of pain as if in response to Gigson's garbled words.

Adding to the already annoying conditions, a crash of thunder sends a rumble through the ship's hull and is soon followed by a heavy, driving rain. White noise clouds your ears and the glistening sheets that fall before you render visibility no better. In fact, the fog seems to be mostly unaffected by the passage of the millions of heavy drops, only roiling somewhat rather than dispersing.

You hear a pained yell from starboard aft, around where the poop deck stairs are.

[Velvet Elvis]

(All)

As you continue to struggle against the fog and the enemies within, a new factor presents itself. With a great rumbling peal of thunder, a storm appears to have broken somewhere above, lost in the fog. Heavy rain crashes through the mists almost instantly, drenching you and making the ship's deck all the more dangerous. Though it is a vague detail that dances in the backs of your minds, you do notice that at first, the fog shows little sign of being dissipated by the sheets of heavy rain that plunge through it, only roiling more violently.

But within moments, it does fade as if suddenly drawn away like a sheet from a bed. Rain pours down in heavy torrents perpendicular to the deck, fat drops pounding across every surface, including you. The sound is a din of white noise and your eyes blink rapidly in an only partially successful effort to keep the rain from entirely blurring your vision. The silver lining? You can now see the ship, albeit vaguely toward each end.

To varying degrees and from varying angles, you can all see the hazy blue form of a skum standing upon the forward edge of the poop deck, as well as another, yellowish-green variety standing beside him. The blue carries a spear and a shield, the other bears only its ridgelike teeth and needle-sharp claws. Upon the poop deck to port, the drenched forms of Salt, Gigson and a rather fuzzy image of Fryst beside him are in melee with another blue.

All Shael and Kahlynn can see in that direction is Gauran's enormous back as he stands head and shoulders above the line of the poop deck.

Note that visibility is diminished but not enough to keep you from seeing the whole ship. It does, however, hit you with a -6 to Listen, Spot and Search checks, in the event you need them. Balance checks are at an additional -2 due to the heavy rain. Other conditions remain as before.

What you see is the current state of affairs going into round 6.

Everyone please bear in mind that the edge of the poop deck stands 8' from the main deck.



End of Round 5

http://img504.imageshack.us/img504/2322/dkendr5sma8.jpg (http://img401.imageshack.us/img401/6840/dkendr5ab9.jpg)

-clicky picky for biggy-


Here is the current initiative and basic status list

22 Shael - lightly injured
22 Blue Skum 2
22 Salt - moderately injured
21 Lock
19 Captain Merev
18 Gigson
16 Jorme - asleep - moderately injured
15 Yorkin - prone
14 Adur - lightly injured
11 Fryst - lightly injured
10 Blue Skum 1 - lightly injured
09 Sparky
04 Green Skum 1 - very lightly injured
03 Nivlan
02 Gauran - large size (10' tall)
01 Kahlynn

Note: Currently, only Lock, Nivlan, Kahlynn, Sparky and Gauran (from his higher vantage point) can see Jorme.

Don't forget the aspect of the heavy rain in your IC. Gotta maintain that atmosphere. :)

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

The fog rolls away, its clinging tendrils seeming to connect the figures on the deck to the wispy clouds. Shael stands, blood staining the front of his torn shirt, with rain dripping from the wide brim of his now-awry hat. Beneath it, his eyes smolder a fierce green--glowing with some inner light. He holds no weapon in his hands, and the rain drips from empty fingertips. Small chunks of scaly gore are plastered to his fine gray coat, but are sliding slowly off under the torrent of rain.

He slides into motion. His left hand produces his long knife from somewhere underneath darkened coat, and the steel blade glints menacingly as he lunges forward.

Inside his head, a heated conversation is taking place behind a face taught and pale with strain.

Ahaha! These monsters are nothing! The fog clears, mortal, and now the might of Marix will be brought to bear! Shael's own thoughts surge up again, and the rising magic fades back as his foot slams down against the cargo hold. No! We can kill these last monsters with plain steel easily enough.

Green lightning bursts into being around his free hand. He grinds to a stop as he bounds of the cargo hatch bay--green eyes wide with surprise as he stares at the crackling energy. NO!

YES! The hand arches back and lunges forward, a growl escaping Shael's lips as he fights its release. The bolt leaves his hand, but his own efforts to stop it discharge must of the blast, leaving the bolt depleted as it flashes toward the blue skum standing over Jorme.



Oops, sorry. I meant that if the skum was dead or moved on my turn for any reason, I would instead ready an action to attack. It was a contingency, like you asked for. Or maybe BC asked for...

Round 6:

Shael will move to N7, and fling a sickening blast (still DC 15) at Green Skum 1, who is standing over Jorme's body. He rolls a 22 to hit touch, for only 6 damage. That's almost MINIMUM damage... Precise Shot should cover any modifiers, I think...

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Fine) | Position: Bottom of poop stairs. )

"Gods damnit again!" says Lock as Yorkin and Jorme both collpase at his feet. "Well, I'm nothing if not stubborn," he goes on, persistently trying the same tactic again, but this time with a little better aiming.

OOC: I'm bloody casting Sleep again. Yeah, that's right. Again. This time centered on R6, same save as before - DC 17 Will. I hope these blue guys have under 5 hd so I can least affect one of them if they fail their Will save.

[The_Snark]

Adur
(Init: 14 | AC: 18 | HP: 33/41 | Position: Prow)

Adur frowns. This fog can't be natural. The rain ought to have cleared it away... or was it too sudden, maybe? His thoughts are interrupted by the sensation of movement. More of them! He fills his lungs, careful not to inhale water, and yells, "More boarders! At the bow!'

Hoping he has the time, Adur begins to chant once again, pointing his finger and moving it as though drawing shapes. Ice crystallizes where he points as he continues to cast, forming into shapes.

Casting Conjure Ice Beast III, for a quartet of wolves with the Ice Beast template. Stats:
Medium construct (cold)
HP: 2d10+8 (19)
AC: 16 (+2 Dex, +4 natural)
Attack: Bite +5 melee (1d6+4, half cold, plus 2d6 cold*)
Special attacks: Frigid Touch
Special qualities: Cold subtype, sonic/bludgeoning vulnerability, construct traits
Feats: Weapon Focus (bite)
Abilities: Str 17*, Dex 15, Con -*, Int -, Wis 10, Cha 1
Saves: Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +0

Frigid Touch (Su): Each attack deals an extra 1d6 points of cold damage.

*Adur has the Augment Summoning and Beckon the Frozen feats, giving all summoned creatures an extra +4 to Str and Con, and giving them an extra 1d6 cold damage on all attacks.

The spell is a full-round action, so if his casting is interrupted, his Concentration modifier is +10. No movement this round, and the wolves will appear in I-6, H-6, H-7, and H-8 if possible. As usual, let me know if there's anything odd.

[KuH]

Fryst
[Init: 11 | AC: 22 | HP: 49/56 | Rage Rd 4(?) | Position: stern]

Fryst hisses in displeasure at the rain drenching his cloak, and suddenly the shadow world clears from his eyes as he sees his target clearly again. His silver eyes sparkle and come into focus. He snarls and swings with his club at the skum in front of him, showing surprising strength and agility ... and an almost frightening ferocity.

or moves to attack the next one if the one in front of him is down

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[Round 6 / Ini: 2 / AC: 7 / HP: 71/71 / Rage Round 3 / Position: On the Prowl...]

Lifting his Greathammer after a strike against an all but invisible foe, Gauran roars in frustration as he realizes his prey's success at escaping his attack.

A rumble precedes the incredible torrent of rain, and the impenetrable veil of fog lifts. Through the sleets of rain the feral gleam in Gauran's eyes is clearly visible, a glow indicating a power beyond the mere rage of a barbarian - anyone glimpsing a look would look directly into the unleashed horrors of the abyss.

Taking in the situation, a hateful grin spreads on Gauran's features, as he slowly brings his Greathammer into position: "I - can - see - you!", his voice comes in a menacing growl.

The very same moment Adur's cry pierces the battle: "More boarders! At the bow!"

Gauran stops in his tracks, a moment of indecision and working thoughts behind his wrathful expression.

I will lose too much time - it will not allow me to proceed quickly enough... Damn them... I will crush them! Crush them all!!!

With a snarl he turns from his target and makes a move toward the bow, not bothering with any obstacles in his way.


I am turning my attention from my - well-deserved :smallsmile: - actual victim Skum no. 2 due to Adur's cry for assistance (implied only, of course).

I consider my flavour actions to be free, if you want to change that feel free of course.

I would like to take two moves of ten foot each - first changing to M/L 8/9 squares and then to the J/K 8/9 squares. If Shael doesn't move tough luck for him :smallbiggrin: . Nah, he should be able to let me pass.

If you consider my flavour actions to add up to be a standard action I would like to know if I could, by staying myself with help of the mast, end up at least at the K/L 8/9 squares WITHOUT having to make a Balance check - if not I will not try to move that far.

So, BASICALLY, my intent is to move as far as I can towards the prow in this round, without having to do a balance check.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn
(Round: 6 l Init:18 l AC 16 l HP 44/44 l Position: amidships)

Kahlynn peers through the pounding rain, hand lifting to shield her eyes. She blinks her lashes clear, and makes out a figure prone on the deck.
Pelor, show them your might is not lessened by these torrid downpours!

She repeats the motion she had made towards Shael a moment before, cupping her hands as if holding a ball, and sends it hurling towards Jorme.

Healing Jorme, Shael was healed round 5, and I really like these spoiler things!

[Avernaith]

Sparky
( Init: 9 | AC: 22 | HP: 30/30 (Good) | Position: Poop Deck )

With a pipsqueek-sized yell, Sparky rushes forward, sliding to his knees in an attempt to Tumble past the skum in front of him.

Trying to Tumble past or through the legs of Green Skum 1 to do my two weapon sneak attacks on Blue Skum 1 right beside. It looks like a 5' move to me, but I leave it to your better DM judgement to tell me what dice rolls will be needed. For the record, if Sparky can still sneak attack the skum he's on, he'll opt for that instead. But since I already attacked him, I kinda figured the opportunity was lost.

[Velvet Elvis]

Round 6, part 1

Prevailing Circumstances in effect until otherwise noted:
-6 Listen, Spot and Search.
Ranged weapons cannot be used (other than the ballista on the ship, and those at -4)
Balance checks are at +2DC, so base DC10 for gnomes and halflings and those <5' tall (or crouching, crawling, etc.), DC11 otherwise.


Note about this segment resolution: Each paragraph is a vignette of action involving various groups of individuals (or a single individual if only one (N)PC is involved) that don't necessarily follow overall init order. However, all actions that take place, take place as they should, based on init and other timing issues. This will be the method I use when I'm handling the combats. Be sure to read everything, because it's intended that you do so. Some items that are mentioned in context with a certain character or group of characters can be seen or detected by others, but in general, only the vignette related to the closest individual or group will include mention of that item or event, even though others may also be aware of it. This is to avoid the redundancy inherent in the earlier spoiler-only style.

By reading the whole resolution post, you'll all glean the info you know. Just use common sense to avoid metagaming, as usual. Some of you may receive PMs with additional private information. Here again, use common sense to determine when and how to relay such info, if you want to at all.


(Shael)

As the rain pounds down, you prepare to unleash another blast of eldritch power upon an unsuspecting Skum. Moving up and onto the cargo hold door near the helm, you sets your sights on a target and begin to call forth the infernal power that would obliterate your foe. However, someone has stolen it away. The creature falls to the side and out of sight.

(Merev)

The blue-scale perched at the edge of the poop deck crouches halfway, angling his barbed spear so that it points directly at the Captain's back. It leans forward and thrusts the glistening tip at the target, but Merev almost uncannily shifts his weight toward his left, avoiding the strike by a finger's width. Despite the attack, Merev is determined to keep his beloved boat on a proper course, as even though the fog has given way to heavy rain that is far less obscuring, visibility remains an issue and grounding is still a possibility without due diligence.

(Salt, Gigson, Fryst)

Meanwhile on the port side of the poop deck, Salt attempts to divide the other blue's attention by moving opposite Gigson's position. The maneuver seems to provide some of the intended effect, but not enough for the elder crewman to connect with his flashing rapier. His thrusting strike to the creature's chest is pushed aside by a shell-covered shield.

The Skum's flat black eyes betray no emotion, but his followup spear threat at Gigson seems to bear some additional insult, as it lances deeply into the sailor's right thigh, eliciting a scream of pain that briefly overwhelms the drone of the rain.

Gigson, though given an advantage by Salt's maneuver is unable to take advantage of it as the wound to his leading leg causes him to stumble to the side, his short sword's blade performing nothing resembling an actual combat strike.

Fryst, however, already enraged and possibly even moreso at Salt and Gigson's rather pathetic attempts, makes a half-spin to one side, pulling his greatclub inward and effectively obliterating the blue-scaled Skum's head and right shoulder. All concerned are splattered soundly with scale-covered chunks, viscous green ichor and bits of cartilage and bone. The Skum's remaining body drops heavily to the deck, its barbed shield and shell-covered shield clattering dully over the noise of the pounding rain.

In their lust to dispatch the blue, none of the trio takes immediate notice of the hulking monstrosity as it pulls itself aboard. But it requires little attention afterward. Lustrous red scales, each the size of a man's palm; mooring-line thick patterns of sinew subdividing the creature's surface into numerous, bulging segments; an enormous, irregularly shaped bludgeon, ringed with three foot long, jagged protrusions. It's all clear now, despite the driving rain.

(Lock)

Rather miffed at the results of your first casting--having managed no more than to send little Jorme to slumberland--you persevere and retarget to a presumably more advantageous position above the poop deck. Pulling a pair of pink rose petals from a belt pouch, you begin intoning the necessary words and performing the intricate gestures to call forth the desired effect.

(Jorme, Yorkin)

Jorme remains asleep, despite the noise of combat around him, dreaming strange dreams of the sea and the horrors that lie beneath the waves. Yorkin, who had unsuccessfully attempted to protect Jorme by dragging him out of harm's way, is forced to leave his little crewmate where he lies, and attempt instead, to remove the threat entirely. With a snarl on his lips, Yorkin's eyes narrow as he brings his cutlass forward in an upward thrust directly at the greenish Skum's crotch. The steep stairs and the Skum's advantageous position make the attack a difficult one for Yorkin, but his zeal to protect his shipmate overcomes the obstacles, and the Skum is left gurgling in pain as the cutlass slices into its upper thigh.

(Adur)

Perched atop the crossbeam between the two sides of the hull that curve to form the point of the prow, an albatross suddenly shifts into the form of Adur Alakast.

You immediately draw forth a tiny bag containing a small white candle, and begin the complex summoning incantation. As the first few words of many are uttered, a yellowish-green-scaled claw, then another grabs the bow rail from below, and a half-second later, the rest of the Skum pulls itself onto the crossbeam a mere foot or so from you as you continue to concentrate. A heavy splash follows soon after, an indication that one of the boarders may not have negotiated the climb. Behind your concentration, a stray thought plays: The rain must be making their climb all the harder....

(Sparky)

Taking advantage of Yorkin's distracting presence on the steps just below the yellow-scaled Skum, you deftly position yourself behind it and drive the narrow blade of your rapier straight through the small of its back before it could turn even a quarter of the way toward you. With nary a sound, the thing falls to the side, dragging your blade with it part way, but you manage to yank it back before it could be bent or become tightly lodged within the carcass.

(Nivlan)

Though Yorkin's motions tend to make it more difficult than the rain alone, you can see that Jorme lies motionless near the base of the stairs before you. Waiting for an opportunity, you begin to call forth the necessary energies to heal the stricken halfling. When the power required has been harnessed, you reach out to touch Jorme's leg; enough contact to discharge the energies into his small form. The rain and motion around you, coupled with the manner in which he lies, makes it all but impossible to know for sure if your attempt has fully healed him or not.

(Gauran)

Having witnessed the relatively tiny Fryst behead the Skum you'd considered taking for yourself, you turn toward the bow in response to Adur's warning call. Taking two long, loping strides, steadying yourself at one point by gripping the main mast, you reach fore of amidships. Scanning the rain-shrouded bow, you can see Adur facing out to sea, sitting far forward near the prow. More interesting is the two Skum you see near him, one vaguely yellowish, the other vaguely green, their proper coloration diffused by the rain.

(Kahlynn)

The cluster of individuals around the base of the starboard poop deck stairs makes your job a difficult one. Yorkin and Lock, as well as the rowboat in which Lock stands, not to mention the rain, the size and position of Jorme, all of it conspires to prevent you from extending your healing touch. To maximize your odds of success, you move a bit aft, to stand beside Nivlan, in order to gain a better perspective over the rowboat's upcurving after edge. You can only see Jorme's head, and even then only as the movement of those around him permit. But it is enough for you. Your hand raises, and your eyes take aim despite the sheets of rain. The warmth of your devotion builds within you and exits in a faintly glowing beam towards Jorme. He must have said his prayers well this day, as your aim is off, but not enough to miss him entirely. The faint glow fades instantly as it finds the mark and is absorbed by Jorme's small form. From your vantage point, you could not see his wounds initially, nor can you see if your gift has had the expected effect.


Notes for AllSparky - Based on your intent, which was to first sneak attack the Green if you could, but otherwise the Blue, I've opted to have you do a 5' step to Q-05 and thus use Yorkin as a flanker so you can perform your sneak attack. No need for tumbling and such.

All - For future reference, please make all the relevant rolls you believe you'll need to execute your plan of attack, even if you're not quite sure you will be able to do what you intend. It's a lot easier for us to apply circumstantial modifiers to your already outlined rolls than it is to figure out what your bonuses are first. Also, be sure to clearly indicate where your bonuses beyond BAB and STR/DEX (for both attack and damage rolls) are coming from so we know if they will apply to the actual action that occurs, without having to take extra time to check your sheets ourselves.

Action types possible for next half of round (ignoring swift/immed/free):

standard: Shael, Gauran
move: Fryst, Sparky, Kahlynn, Nivlan
abort spell and opt for a move action: Adur, Lock

Everyone, please roll ten spot checks and include the crosslink to your dice-roller thread post in your next IC spoiler. No need to include the actual rolls for this; they're just for contingency purposes.

Each of you can see the following enemies at this point. If your name isn't on a line, you can't see that target yet, and thus can't intentionally react to its presence.

Fryst, Kahlynn, Lock, Sparky: you are all aware of the big red Skum.

Adur: you can see the Skum beside you, visually, and the other via blindsense or a turn of your head.

Gauran: you can see both of the Skum near Adur.

[Velvet Elvis]

End of Round 6, Part 1

http://img503.imageshack.us/img503/2526/dkendr6asvz1.jpg (http://img260.imageshack.us/img260/5758/dkendr6afn8.jpg)

- click for full size grid -


Here is the current initiative and basic status list

22 Shael - uninjured
22 Salt - moderately injured
21 Lock - uninjured
21 Yellow Skum 3 - uninjured
21 Red Skum - uninjured
19 Captain Merev - uninjured
18 Gigson - severely injured
16 Jorme - asleep - uninjured
15 Yorkin - uninjured
14 Adur - lightly injured
11 Fryst - lightly injured
11 Blue Skum 3 - uninjured
10 Blue Skum 1 - lightly injured
10 Green Skum 4 - uninjured
09 Sparky - uninjured
06 Blue Skum 4 - uninjured
03 Nivlan - uninjured
03 Green Skum 3 - uninjured
02 Gauran - large size (10' tall)
01 Kahlynn - uninjured

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Fine) | Position: Heading towards soft, chewy center. )

Lock chuckles a bit at his allies felling those he wished to put to sleep, "Saves me the trouble," He says. Seeing the massive red skum emerge from the stern, however, and with Adur's call from the bow, Lock decides he'd best move somewhere he can offere more support. "Good luck Yorkin," he says, "This spot is getting a little a crowded for my tastes. I'm going where I hope I can help more."

Lock then abandons his post at the bottom of the poop stairs, and heads toward the center of the ship where he hopes he can keep an eye on both ends.

OOC: Lock is moving to M-07. Hopefully from there he can offer support spells to either end of the ship, and move in to help if need be. Balance is 16 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2171389&postcount=132), Spot checks included in previous link

[Annarrkkii]

Shael

As the skum topples, the energy only beginning to leave his fingertips, Shael twists, changing his target to the skum on the far side of Captain Merev.

Same roll results, I assume?

[Velvet Elvis]

(Shael)

With your initially intended target now lying in a heap, you quickly redirect your blast toward the last of the smaller skum visible on the raised quarterdeck. The green flow coalesces, encircling your hand with eldritch fire, a look of anticipation in your eyes. The bolt leaps from your outstretched hand, streaking directly toward the creature's exposed abdomen, spreading out in a greenish disk upon impact. The skum throws its head to the side in a brief, silent reaction to the attack. It is definitely injured, but not yet severely, and whether your secondary effect has been delivered remains to be seen.

[Velvet Elvis]

(Salt, Fryst, Gigson)

Salt, looking nearly straight up into a now familiar fish-like face, only several times larger, hesitates for a moment as if deciding whether to flee or to stand his ground. Perhaps it is the case with most men of his sort, long since having understood that the odds were high that the sea would eventually take them, one way or another. Enormously overmatched, if relative size indicated anything, he bravely growls a challenge, "Ye be wantin' t'find yer way to me pot? Then let's start workin', ye sorry excuse fer a minnow!" And with that, Salt begins testing his fate.

The massive fish-beast stands before the relatively tiny sailor, looking down at him. Salt can't quite discern the empty black eyes, the size of mooring hubs, which is probably just as well. He needn't have more nightmares to take to the grave. The thing bunches its grip about the base of the giant bludgeon it wields, each scaled bicep larger than the target their power will serve to destroy. A half-second to shift its weight and draw the weapon above its head, another half-second to bring its immense weight down upon the hapless challenger before it.

And just like that, sixty-seven years of plying the seas, of soaking up the essence of that which harbored the thing before him--gone. An instant of crushing power, and the cook, the friend, the trusted and capable hand, reduced to a quivering pulp that barely resembles a once living thing. As a morbid accent, a single dull pink spire was dislodged from the club, nailing the pulp solidly to the deck. And right in front of poor Gigson. The horror leaves him dumbstruck, mouth agape, collecting rain, but entirely uncaring.

The towering red thing, sloughing gallons of rain from its scales every second, wasn't quite done yet. It's huge bulk moves with uncanny deftness, allowing its weapon to skip from the deck's surface and up almost instantly again, to be brought down towards the tiny form of Fryst. But instead of spreading the gnome's body across the deck, it impacts the boom extending from the rear mast, shattering it and shredding the reefed sails attached to it, sending splintered chunks of wood and strips of sodden canvas across the port side of the poop deck.


(Lock)

You carefully hop from the nearly flooded rowboat to the deck, retaining a guiding hand on the wooden edge. Passing bewteen Kahlynn and Nivlan, and past Shael, you find yourself atop the forward cargo hold door, beside the main mast footing.


(Skum-Yellow3, Adur)

You saw it coming, you felt its presence as an almost palpable aura, you smelled its rank breath even through the cleansing rain, and you tried to avoid it, but the spot you chose to weave your spell is not conducive to steady footing. A dodge works at first, but even the rain conspired against you; the rain you created. It almost broke through your mental solidity, but you stood against it. The skum, however, has no knowledge of any of that, and wouldn't care, in any case.

It stares at you with those flat black eyes, and you stare back, concentrating, pulling the power from deep within to bring forth aid that would surely freeze them in their tracks. The skum extends its neck, bringing its ugly face directly toward your throat, gaping maw bearing ragged ridges of cartilage instead of true teeth...but they serve the purpose just as well. A sideswiping strike catches you solidly in the right side of your chest, tearing along and across your shoulder. The pain blinds all of your senses for a moment, and you fight to retain control of the building energy, but it slips away. The chain breaks and your eyes once again reveal the twisted face of your enemy in all its repulsive glory.

AddendaAdurrolls for attack/damage on you + concentration vs heavy rain (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2173299&postcount=133)
concentration vs DC10 + damage taken (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2173646&postcount=134)

(Yorkin, Sparky)

Yorkin reorients his stance to face the blue-scaled skum up above him on the poop deck, raising his cutlass in a defensive posture, clearly hoping to deflect an incoming spear thrust. The skum, however, has turned as well: towards Sparky.

[KuH]

Fryst
Init: 11 | AC: 22 | HP: 49/56 | Rage Rd 5 | Position: P9 to Q8

Based on the diagram, I would assume with a 5' step - which I think is a free action - Fryst could actually step in and take two swings on big baddy this round.

Somehow, even deep in his feline fury, a sense of danger penetrates to Fryst's focused mind. As chunks of wood fly from the impact of club on boom he pauses, and his eyes flash as he sends forth a cry into the spirit world help me brother/sister/guide, takes a 5 foot step into Q-8 and swings hard at big red - a spitting tiny wildcat up against a monstrous denizen of the deep.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

That's the second time I've heard that sort of spintering sound. Something's happening up there--he shot a glance at the blue skum that had stabbed at the captain--and I'm not so sure it's going our way.

Seeing the crowd of people at the one set of stairs to the poop deck, he cautiously moved toward the other.

OOC:Nivlan will move to N-08.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn
(Init:18 l AC 16 l HP 44/44 l Position: moving forward)

Seeing the threat to crew and companions, Kahlynn crouches low to the deck, and slips closer once Nivlan has moved. In her mind she readies herself for praying, while her body prepares itself for running ...

moving to 0-6, with any luck, and preparing to cast healing on whoever might need it. If I can see Salt is past the aid I can give, I shall try to move Jorme out of harm's way.

[Avernaith]

Sparky
( Init: 9 | AC: 22 | HP: 30/30 (Good) | Position: Poop Deck )

No...No not Salt. If only he had kept the brownboot... Brow furrowed in concentration, Sparky flicks the slimy blood from the blade of his rapier and stares at the giant skum gliding across the deck behind him. Salt was my friend...you monster! With a flurry of motion, Sparky rolls between the legs of the monstrosity, then tries to straighten up while driving both blades into the back of its gigantic knees.

I'm assuming I'll provoke an AoO from both skum to do this, but it's worth a shot. Attempting to tumble into position for another dual-wield sneak attack on the giant skum, final position S06 behind the beast, since it is facing Salt's body in Q07

[Velvet Elvis]

Round 6, Part 2, continued

(Fryst, Skum-Red)

Your raging path of destruction continues unabated as you step forward across the body of the blue you just vanquished, and retaliate with a greatclub swing of your own against the red. While your weapon is significantly smaller that that of your latest foe, it is placed better, crashing into the beast's upper right thigh. The motion of your swing comes to an abrupt halt as wood meets thick flesh, delivering the energy squarely. The crunch of scales would be more satisfying if not for the red mist of battle-lust dulling such superficial sensations. Though injured, the towering fish-beast shows no outward signs of having taken such a blow; well, beyond the fact that it now has its large black eyes squarely fixed on you.

(Sparky, Skum-Blue1)

Having finished off the yellow-scale with your rather fortuitous sneak attack to its back, you follow through with your short sword aimed at the blue beside you. However, the momentary distraction of removing your rapier from your first victim, leaves you slightly off-balance, and your sword strike manages to only clip a few of the blue's scales as it slides down its left flank.

(Nivlan)

Your trials in negotiating the ship's deck, amidst the commotion, the tight quarters, the loose objects and, most recently, the onset of driving rain, continue. You turn to step up onto the cargo bay door, intending to slip past Shael, but fail to step high enough, pushing the tip of your foot into the edge. You lose balance again, falling to the right, your instinctively outstretched hands grasping nothing but cold air and rain in a vain attempt to find something to catch your fall to the deck.

(Adur, Skum-Green3)

The first of the skum has knocked your spell from your mind, and another, this one a green, is eager to join him in an effort to dismember you. Taking a rather ungainly step over the various obstacles stowed at the point of the prow, it shifts its shoulders forward, extending its neck and head and like the first, dragging its tooth-ridges across your body. This time, the assault opens a gash across your right flank, just below the ribs.


Addenda (Adur, Nivlan)AdurYou suffer 10HP damage from Skum-Green3.
NivlanYou are now prone in N-06. You can stand as a move action in round 7.

[Velvet Elvis]

Round 6, Part 2, final resolution

(Gauran)

Through the driving sheets of rain, you see the drama playing out between a somewhat lackadaisical Adur and a pair of skum, one a yellow-scale, the other green. The green has just taken a wobbly step toward Adur, and attacked. Unfortunately, you can't reach it without moving closer, and the boom from the main mast must be avoided first. Taking a high-step, you negotiate the obstacle, placing it behind you; the skum are now only a moment away from knowing the force of a goliath greathammer....

(Kahlynn)

Your concern for Jorme's well being draws you closer to the deck stairs. As you pass by Nivlan, offering him help to stand, he refuses with a bit of a grimace, but you have your own issues to deal with, just barely avoiding stepping on Nivlan's foot as he squirms around in his effort. Seeing the back of the blue skum that stands above the spot you need to reach, you crouch to avoid the chance it might turn and stab down at you. Once under the narrow overhang of the raised deck, you see Jorme, but Yorkin's position makes it impossible for you to reach the small body that lies just beyond without risking becoming entangled in the sailor's movements. Jorme appears to be uninjured, though, of course, you cannot see the side upon which he is lying, nor much of his back, he is, however, thoroughly soaked. To your right you see a closed door leading into the ship's small galley beneath the raised deck.


Addenda (Kahlynn, Gauran)KahlynnYou are now in O-06, crouching. The bit with Yorkin is a device to explain why you don't have enough actions left to grab Jorme this round. In round 7 (or later), you may make what amounts to a melee attack on Jorme (vs AC5), reaching past Yorkin at an opportune moment to grab the body and drag it into your square without hindering Yorkin's movements in the process. That sort of action will count as a standard action.
GauranI didn't want to move you unwillingly into a position that would most likely get you attacked before you could retailiate, so I left you where you stood as there's nothing within immediate reach at your current position.

[Velvet Elvis]

Within a few moments, much like the fog that was seemingly ripped away by the consistency of the heavy rain, the rain itself falls away as if you had passed through the plane of a waterfall. The rain, continuing to pound into the sea's moderately choppy surface, is seen to be restricted to an area some couple hundred feet wide, falling from low-hanging, darkly laden clouds that seem apart from the few others that scud along above them.

The rain's departure now reveals the entirety of the situation to all. Merev remains at the wheel, stoically ensuring grounding does not occur, and finding that it is even more important now to focus attention on such. The rainwater the Dancing Karil had taken, is now quickly disappearing, slipping away through holes that lead to the bilge. The deck's surface, though still slick, presents a far less treacherous surface than before.

The only clearly obvious damage to the ship is the rear mast's shattered portside boom.

"Aye! Land ho! Cast these wretched vermin from my ship!" calls the voice of Merev. Whenever the situation allows, you each cast a forward glance and can see the land indicated, a broad-faced island shrouded in low-hanging mists, with a distant peak, or possibly cluster of peaks rising just above an expanse of high, sheer cliffs that form the entire eastern face of the island, the side you now approach.

The water around you is a deep algae-green, moderately choppy due to the advent of sudden crosswinds which lightly buffet the ship and its surface contents. There also exists a faint mist that rides the surface, though it is decidedly unlike the fog, and whirls, disperses and coalesces at the apparent whim of the winds.

[Velvet Elvis]

End of Round 6

http://img164.imageshack.us/img164/4730/dkendr6bsvp3.jpg (http://img530.imageshack.us/img530/9726/dkendr6bjg4.jpg)

- click for full size grid -

Entering Round 7

Prevailing Circumstances now in effect
Balance checks are now required only for moves at >1/2 your movement rate at DC5 +1 per 10' moved.


Current init order and general status

22 Shael - uninjured
21 Lock - uninjured
21 Yellow Skum 3 - uninjured
21 Red Skum - lightly uninjured
19 Captain Merev - uninjured
18 Gigson - severely injured
16 Jorme - asleep - uninjured
15 Yorkin - uninjured
--------
14 Adur - moderately injured
11 Fryst - lightly injured
10 Blue Skum 1 - lightly injured
09 Sparky - uninjured
03 Nivlan - uninjured
03 Green Skum 3 - uninjured
02 Gauran - large size (10' tall)
01 Kahlynn - uninjured

Those above the halfway line may now move along to round 7 and post actions accordingly.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan
(Round 7, Init: 22 | AC: 14 | HP: 26/26 (Healthy) | Position: Starboard Rail, Midships)

The elf is beginning to look slightly sickly. Barely visible through the rain, his face is taught and pale. His green eyes flicker with increasing strength, surrounding by the stains of cold sweat and rain. His lips are drawn back slightly in a grimace of concentration, and tendons stand out on his slim neck. His blood stained white shirt is now thoroughly soaked, as is the grey jacket and bright green neckcloth. The deck waivers under the force off the red skum's presence, and Shael starts into action.

What is that thing! It's enormous!

For a moment, the image of a massive, twisted creature, acompanied by mocking laughter, is visible--just a flickering suggestion of a huge outline. Enormous? You reveal your mundane earthiness, Shael! I have dined with and upon creatures twice the size of this slime-covered cretin. I tire of combat—let us send this amphibious wretch to rot on the seafloor!

The two bound into action. Lacking a clear shot, Shael steps back, moving at angle toward the railing, while quickly lining up a throw at the monster's massive torso. Green energy snaps and crackles--inaudible over the rain--dancing about his clenched fist and wiry forearm. His arm draws back, and snaps forward, sending a flash of green energy streaking toward the monster.

I feel left out. Everyone's actions are so interesting, and mine are just so... formulaic. I'm moving to M-09 and loosing another sickening blast--this time at the red skum. I'm relying on the fact that I'm back some from the poop deck, and the fact that the thing is huge, to give me a solid shot. He may well have cover, but I'm blasting him anyway.

I rolled a 24 for 9 damage (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2177907&postcount=142), DC 15 Fort save as always to avoid sickening effect. I'm displeased by my low damage rolls.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Fine) | Position: At soft, chewy center. )

Lock glances about indecisively for a moment. It looks like the druid is up to his neck in skum, but the big red is quite literally tearing the ship apart. The captain's cry easily solidifies his decision, he'd see that land even if he had to finish shoving his spear through these skum's heads himself, starting with trying to slow down that murderous monster aft.

Quickly going over his options, the only think Lock knows has a good chance of hurting such a large beastie is perhaps some summoned Glitterdust. At least then the damn thing might be blinded...Lock'd see how well he could rage through his allies on the ship then.

Lock falls into conjuring up some dust, hoping for the best.

OOC: Casting Glitterdust (http://www.systemreferencedocuments.org/35/sovelior_sage/spellsFtoG.html#glitterdust)at T-07 with what looks like a DC 17 Will Save to avoide blinding (5 rounds).

[Velvet Elvis]

Round 7 - Resolutions for High Inits

(Shael, Red Skum)

Goaded by Marix' demonic arrogance, you assume a position to gain you the proper angle to target the slime-covered cretin, as the voice in your mind diminishes it. You turn and step down from the raised cargo hold door, across several feet of open deck and quickly hop into the bow section of the rowboat to gain some additional height, finding that you now stand nearly knee-deep in unbailed rainwater. But being wet is par for the day, so far, and you mostly ignore it, taking aim at the enormous red target on the deck above.

You release the energy with a stroke of your arm, sending it forward to strike the balled muscles of its right shoulder. It flares, spreading outward a bit before disappearing. The creature's head pivots a small amount indicating that it did, at least, feel the effects, but it certainly doesn't appear to have given it thoughts of abandoning the raid.

(Red Skum, Fryst)

The huge red skum before you pulls back the oddly-shaped, oddly-barbed greatclub--an object significantly larger than you are--and brings it almost straight down toward you, but your frenetic maneuvering and relatively tiny size have served you well, as the head of the club once again slams into the deck, sending another shock wave through the ship's skeleton. Although the dead black eyes remain implacable, the creature throws you a roaring snarl that briefly reveals the cavern that functions as its mouth.

(Lock, Red Skum)

Old words flow from your lips as your pinched fingers cause a small amount of pulverized mica to waft away on the wind. In the near distance of the poop deck, a puff of sparkling motes appears, dousing the red skum, transforming him from repulsive to almost festive in an instant. The thing emits a rumbling, gurgling sound that can only be taken as anger or frustration.

(All)

As you all feel the shockwave caused by the red skum's weapon shudder beneath your feet, you almost simultaneously feel the ship suddenly angle to port, and within seconds begin to speed along on a new course, The wind doesn't seem to be the acting force here, although the ship's motion does add to the already prevailing conditions, sending loose ends of your soaked clothing flapping, and untucked hair whipping about.

Merev, who has steadfastly remained at the helm throughout, yells into the air before him, "Blast! Sowes' grift currn't's got us! Git them things off s'we kin raise th'mains'l!" His voice is as gruff and hard-edged as ever, but it seems to carry the first hints of panic; something entirely uncharacteristic of the captain in your experience with him, so far. Any glances in his direction see him pulling hard against the wheel, though all he seems to be accomplishing is angling the ship a bit less to port than it otherwise would be. Glances the opposite way, off the bow, show that the ship, regardless of Merev's actions, appears to be headed toward the island at a broad angle. The mists obscure the coast, assuming there is any, and for all intents and purposes, if the ship continues that direction, it will almost certainly ground, or if not that, run headlong into either an as yet unseen soft-shore, or perhaps, straight into the foot of the rocky cliffside.

(Gigson)

Salt's closest shipmate snaps out of his dumbstruck horror and instantly sets his jaw toward the creature that ended his friend's life. Brandishing his rather pitiful, by comparison, short sword and dagger, he maneuvers forward next to Fryst and lets loose with a one-two flurry. Gigson's welling rage throws off his usually reliable combat skills, and both of his attacks merely bounce off the lustrous red scales protecting the giant red.

(Yorkin)

Already keeping his eye on the blue above him, Yorkin notices it turning attention starboard aft. Taking the opportunity granted by whatever's gaining its attention, he fairly leaps up the steep stairs and onto the upper deck, with the intent of slashing into the blue's side with his trusty cutlass, but instead only finds that he wasn't quite able to negotiate the sprawled corpse of the dead green that had fallen earlier to Sparky's rapier. His blade, at least, contacts the creature on an acute angle, the azure scales serving to deflect the blow entirely.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk, Round 7
(Init: 3 | AC: 13 | HP: 39/39 (okay) | Position: prone)

As he picks himself up off the bothersome hatch--yet again--Nivlan sees Adur attempting to engage two skum at one time.

"You help up there," he shouts to Kahlynn, gesturing to the poop deck. "I'm headed up front to help Adur."

He moves toward the front of the ship, resolving to watch his feet more closely this time.

OOC, Round 7:Nivlan will make two move actions. He will stand from his prone position, and he will move half his movement speed directly toward the front of the ship. This move should put him in K-06. That will give Gauran enough room to maneuver and engage the skum, right? If not, Nivlan will divert his steps by one square (still not exceeding half his movement speed) to give the goliath a clear path.

[KuH]

Fryst
Rd: 7 | Init: 11 | AC: 22 | HP: 49/56 | Rage Rd 6 | Position: Q8

Fryst is still hopping mad on the back deck, swinging away halflingfully at the red beast, although the sweat is flowing down his brow, and you almost wonder if he must, at last, be getting tired. But he digs deep into his reserves of energy, bloodspecked as he is, and swings with every ounce of his energy at the kneecaps of the beast in front of him with a roar.

His attention is very much on the beast in front of him, although he does spare a brief thought for his comrades as he notices some sort of arcane fire flash over his head into the red thing. Good that power is on our side ...

And then, as if that thought opens up his mind to the fact that he is not alone on the boat he growls at Gigson 'Go! Back away slowly and help our yammering captain.'

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[Round 7 / Ini:2 / AC:7 / HP:71/71 / Rage Round 4 / Position: Incoming...]

Steadying himself for a moment when the boat is rocked by the impact of the red skums club, Gauran sways back with the ship's motion and, as it tilts back, surges forward with a couple of aggressive steps in direction of the two skum attacking Adur.

With a howl of bloodlust and unrestrained wrath he swings his Greathammer in a merciless arc down on the yellowy skum, crushing bones and flesh to a bloody pulp.

Even without really looking at his victim, screaming like a vengeful god of destruction, Gauran lifts his hammer again, to bash any remnants of the skum into oblivion.


Okay, I hope I DID hit him with my rolls, otherwise I'd feel a bit sheepish .

Move Action: Use 20 feet of movement to change to squares H/I 7/8 - my intention is to move as near as possible to the skum, ignoring my reach, because then they might be inclined to feel a more immediate threat from my bulk, placed directly in front of them. This is to offer a measure of distraction from Adur.

If you consider the squares to be difficult terrain because of the multitude of obstacles present I can use my full 40 feet of movement, which should be enough then. I would argue that obstacles make it more difficult to walk, taking more squares, but eliminating the necessity of a balance check as I can steady myself at a lot of points that offer more grip than the deck (like a ballista, e. g. :smallbiggrin: ). Tell me if you need something because you don't agree.

The attack roll would be: (1d20+13)[22] - hopefully sufficient
The damage roll would be: (3d6+15)[27] - hopefully sufficient as well

[Velvet Elvis]

(Adur)

The yellow-scale next to you lunges forward, now so close as to make it even more difficult to maneuver away from it, or to interpose your shield. Its extended neck brings its rasping jaws to your right upper chest and you feel the nasty crunch as its tooth ridges manage to crush through your mail. Blending into the same rush of pain, you feel, but can't see the creature's left claw as it pierces the flesh of your right thigh.

(Fryst)

Taking advantage of the obviously diminished state of the foe rising above you, you apply wood to scales and cartilage, leaving the thing's knee weakened as the satisfying sound and feel of contact rushes through your bloodlusting mind. An attempt to duplicate your success versus the blue, by spinning back in the opposite direction to crash your club into the same knee is met with nothing but air as the involuntary reaction of the skum causes it to list instantly as it attempts to shift its huge weight onto the other leg.

(Blue Skum, Sparky)

Having already turned its attention toward you, and not appearing to be at all concerned about Yorkin's ineffective attack, the barbed spear its been using to draw blood so far, adds another name to its log of victims. A slight dodge the other way, a shift of the foot this way rather than that would have spared you entirely, but the barbs on the spear's head catch the meat of your right thigh, sending a jolt of pain along your nerves.


Addenda for Adur and SparkyAdurYou take a total of 16HP from bite+claw (second claw missed).
SparkyYou take 7HP from the skum's barbed spear. Please also make a 1d20 roll in the dice-roller thread, no modifiers. I'll see it, so no need to let me know.

[The_Snark]

Adur Round 7
Init: 14 | AC: 16 (helpless) | HP: -3/41 | Position: Prow, prone

Startled by the vicious assult, Adur tries to elude his foes in vain; there's simply no room on the prow to maneuver, and before the thought of fleeing via air enters his mind, the skum's jaw ridges rake away at his shoulder, further opening the bleeding spear wound he'd sustained earlier. He tries to step back instinctively, but the claw piercing his leg brings him to the ground, and faint with blood loss, he lies on the wet prow, drifting on the edge of consciousness.

Dying at -3. Ouch.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn round 7
(Init:18 l AC 16 l HP 44/44 l Position:thick of battle?Ick!)


Waiting for an opportune moment, Kahlynn reaches across the decking to grab the prone Jorme, and pull him back, out of harm's way. Pelor, give me the strength to help ... and don't let me be squashed!

She grabs for whatever limb is closest, with the intent of pulling Jorme back out of the area of fighting.

[Velvet Elvis]

Round 7 wrapup

(Sparky)

With the blue somewhat handled by Yorkin--assuming he might decide to actually hit it once or twice--you sidestep away from its reach in order to apply your flashing blades to the red skum's right leg. Such a big target, one rather a bit bigger than you strapped to yourself a few times...should be like stabbing the side of an alleyway wall. Should be. Perhaps it was the fact that your position places you precariously close to the low deck rail and the possibility of a nearly twenty-foot fall into the ocean--an ocean likely quite full of things you don't want to swim with. Whatever the cause, your blades fail miserably to inflict any sort of damage whatsoever upon the mostly unprotected leg of your immense target. In fact, the red skum seems to have no idea at all that you even exist so closely. It shakes its head violently from side to side, but obviously not as result of your doing.


(Nivlan)

You rise again like the proverbial phoenix, determined to make your way...somewhere, anywhere...without the deck coming up to meet you. Now that the rain has abated entirely, and the remaining water is beginning to drain and slowly evaporate, your footing is more secure. You make your way toward the bow, but still remain careful. Without incident, you reach a spot just before the starboard ballista and the descending stairs to the crew cabin, and see the unfolding scene before you, as well as the enormous bulk of Gauran striding almost in tandem with you, but from the portside and headed farther forward.


(Gauran, Skum-Green4, Skum-Green3)

As you take your long steps toward Adur and his attackers, you see him fall before you can arrive to prevent it. The two skum responsible would likely continue to rip him apart if not for your imposing figure heading their way. As typical, there is no emotion in their void-like black eyes, but the mere fact they choose to focus on you rather than the easy victim before them tells you what you need to know.

The first step brings you astride the stairwell leading down into the crew cabin. It also brings you near the presence of another skum, a green, that pulls itself up and over the rail to flop down on wet, webbed feet just beside the anchor winch. Your focus upon the yellow skum forces your second stride, bringing you to stand kneecap to fish-face with the other green, one with bloody maw and claw, and within reach of your target.

But yours is not the first attack to occur. The newly arrived green takes advantage of your passing left leg, extending its neck just enough to bring its jaws within snapping distance of your calf. The ridgelike teeth grab hold and pull back, painfully ripping away a chunk of your flesh. The pain is, of course, more than just merely noticeable, but your greathammer is already in motion. As you begin to bring it down upon the hapless yellow, the other green now standing closer to you strikes as well, having waited for the opportunity as you approached. Again, jaws draw open and clamp down on your leg; this time inflicting two deep gashes in your left thigh, just above the knee.

The nature of the rage allows you to use your pain to your advantage, channeling some of the reflexive energy into your own blows. With a roar of anger, your greathammer comes down upon the yellow-scaled skum as its black eyes watch, entirely unable to prevent its doom. The impact leaves behind a crushed pile of bloody scales, cartilage and soupy green ichor, and sends another shudder through the Dancing Karil.


(Kahlynn)

When Yorkin disappears up the stairs, you make your move to retrieve Jorme, grabbing both ankles and pulling him to you. Your caring nature is tested as you see his face slide through the remains of the yellow upon which Jorme had fallen, but the news with regard to his condition is far more satisfying: he appears none the worse for wear, though getting that fish smell out of his nose will be tricky.


Addenda for Gauran and KahlynnGauranYou suffer 15HP from the first bite, and 16HP from the second bite. To know how bad your luck is, consider that the max, without criticals for their bites is 17HP. On the good side, you smashed the yellow pretty good. :smallbiggrin:
KahlynnJorme is now in your square (O-06), you can try to awaken him next round as a standard action (will automatically work), at which point he will move out of your square, unless you opt to take a 5' step out of O-06 before you wake him.

[Velvet Elvis]

~~~

The Dancing Karil is flying along despite the clashing airflow about her. Though the term is unusual, Merev's mention of a grift current must explain the great speed at which the boat is approaching the island without having a single sail in place. With the island now perhaps only a mile off, you begin to see the vague outlines of the shoreline, as well as broad, dark patches just visible beneath the surface, a sure sign of reefs or rocks. Here and there in that area, rock or coral spires pierce the waves and jut into the sky, some a foot, some six times that.

At the current angle, it appears the ship will ground on the offshore hazard, and at the current speed, will most likely suffer enormous damage. Perhaps Merev has some tricks up his sleeves, but his constant battle with the wheel seems to render that unlikely, and his crew being otherwise preoccupied makes raising the mainsail just as unlikely. Even if it were possible, the results aren't guaranteed--it may be too little, too late.


~~~



End of Round 7

http://img256.imageshack.us/img256/6600/dkendr7sey0.jpg (http://img503.imageshack.us/img503/6882/dkendr7co3.jpg)

- click for full size grid -

~~~

Current initiative positions and general conditions:

Note the change in position of the split line. It now ignores NPCs as it should have and players are now divided evenly.

22 Shael - uninjured
21 Red Skum - moderately injured
21 Lock - uninjured
19 Captain Merev - uninjured
18 Gigson - severely injured
16 Jorme - asleep - uninjured
15 Yorkin - uninjured
14 Adur - prone/helpless/dying
11 Fryst - lightly injured

--------round divider--------

10 Blue Skum 1 - lightly injured
10 Green Skum 4 - uninjured
09 Sparky - uninjured
03 Nivlan - uninjured
02 Green Skum 3 - uninjured (init reduced due to readied action)
02 Gauran - large size (10' tall), badly injured
01 Kahlynn - uninjured


~~~

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan
(Round 7, Init: 22 | AC: 14 | HP: 26/26 (Healthy) | Position: Starboard Rail, Midships)

The green lights flare in Shael's eyes, burning in his thin face, his teeth gritting with strain. Inside, Marix snarls with rage. Nothing could stand up to my eldritch fire if I were at my full strength! This creature would be a cloud of char swirling in these cursed winds!

After this thing's back underwater... I'm... not letting you out for a looong time...

The two adjust their aim, lining up another crackling bolt, and loosing it at the massive red skum, oblivious to the rapidly approaching rocks.

I figure the surest way to get these sails up is to free up the remaining sailors to do their job. That means knocking Big Red back into the sea. Firing off another sickening blast, this one hitting touch AC 14 for 14 damage (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2184250&postcount=156).

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn round 8
(Init:18 l AC 16 l HP 44/44 l Position:thick of battle?Ick!)


Kahlynn shakes Jorme, checking him over for injuries and keeping one eye on the horror just a few feet away from them. "Jorme! Wake up ... are you all right? Are you hurt?" As he begins to rouse, she helps him to his feet. "I think the Captain needs help ... "

[Velvet Elvis]

Round 8

1/8 resolutions, involving Shael and Sparky.

(Shael, Red Skum, Sparky)

Once again, your stroke of eldritch energy impacts the red scales of your chosen enemy, this time in the right arm and leaving behind a discolored ring. The skum reacts like a tiger being poked with a stick, flailing madly with its club. Though in sorry shape, the beast still has potential to pack a mighty swing, and attempts to do so. By sheer memory, it seems, it swings blindly toward Sparky, the club's spikes passing some distance over his head. The whip of his hair as the weapon passes by sends an involuntary chill through his body as his brain subsconsciously recognizes that had that blow connected, it would surely have knocked him through the air and overboard, in the likely addition to crushing his skull.

The beast's heavy swing seems to have unbalanced it some, forcing it to step back to balance as best it can. It now stands so close to the aft railing that any further movement in that direction will surely see it consumed by the sea.

~~

(Position Change: Red Skum is now at S/T-06/07)

[KuH]

Fryst
Rd: 8 | Init: 11 | AC: 21 | HP: 49/56 | Fatigued | Position: Q8 - P9

Crouching low beneath the big red's bruised knee, the blood-spattered Fryst looks absolutely exhausted. You can tell that the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Whatever resources of strength were pushing him into that superhuman feline rage are now exhausted, although, in contrast, his awareness of his surroundings seems greater than before.

I'm going to assume that a 5' step back to P9 puts Fryst two diagonal squares away from big red: i) without attracting an attack of opportunity and ii) putting him two diagonal squares away i.e., 15' vs. a 10' reach and hence he can cast a spell without being threatened.

Fryst slowly lowers his stave into a more defensive position as he takes a careful step backwards out of range of big red's club. My puny weapon cannot hurt a creature of this size without the aid of the spirits. Let me call on them! His eyes flash silver and he intones some purring sounds, as he seems to cast a spell.

Casting Shillelagh on my club

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Fine) | Position: At soft, chewy center. )

Lock allows himself a momentary satisfaction at effectively decreasing the threat at the aft of the ship, but quickly moves to the next dilemna. Boarders seem to be streaming in still from the bow and everyone that moves over there is being sliced and diced apart. Lock hopes his same tactic works to the same effect here and moves to where he can get a better look at the situation, wherein he casts another burst of Glitterdust at the Skum. These sea-slimes had best not make us crash! he thinks.

OOC: I'm moving to K-9 and then casting another burst of Glitterdust 5 feet'ish up in the air at F-7. Balance is 17 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2186522&postcount=159).

[Velvet Elvis]

Round 8 continued...


(Lock, Green Skum 4, {Adur}, Blue Skum 3)

You step off the forward cargo hold door down onto the deck and make your way forward taking a spot by the port ballista. Before you is the secondary boarding party consisting, so far, at least, of two green skum and a yellow--or what used to be a yellow--each near the crumpled form of Adur which you can just see wedged in between the bow crossbeam and the bow point. Both greens are currently fixated on the oversized form of Gauran, and have managed to inflict rather serious damage to his left leg. Taking aim, you perform the familiar actions required to bring into being a cloud of glittery dust which descends upon the skum nearest you before being dispersed by the wind. The creature reacts quickly with a head-shaking display which underscores your recognition that your intent has succeeded and the creature's black eyes are rendered useless for the time being. Another sensation is received telling you that your unintentional target, Adur, has resisted the effects.

You watch with satisfaction as the glittery substance drapes over the skum, outlining it and causing it obvious irritation. However, even as your hand is lowered, you see another skum, a blue, fairly vault over the railing closer to you, just on the other side of the ballista. You curse silently that the thing couldn't have made itself known before you'd cast your spell.

(Note: The target was chosen at random between the two greens, and I just shifted your stated target of "F7-G7" which isn't an intersection, to the nearest intersection from that point that would target the skum and avoid Gauran (you clearly weren't avoiding Adur, so he had to make a save, as well, even though he's unconscious.)


(Captain Merev)

The Captain continues to wrestle with the helm, the current beneath the ship easily preventing any significant change in course. Now racing along at a good thirty knots, the island is quickly drawing closer. The mists that girdle the coast become less obscuring as you approach, revealing for the first time the true extent of the situation. While the current is pulling the Dancing Karil toward the rocks, it is doing so obliquely, which without a course correction will send the starboard hull into the looming rocks. The towering cliffsides appear to run from end to end on the leeward side of the island, with one or two visible inlets whose mouths are mostly free of outcroppings, spires or high reefs.


(Gigson)

Following the backward motion of the red skum, Gigson leans in while it flails blindly at Sparky. A short sword stroke to its leg is too shallow and glances off the tough scales, but his following dagger attack thrusts directly into the knee, deflecting from one scale to slide straight up under another. The red releases a gurgling grunt that seems borne more of anger than actual pain, but either way, it seems in dire shape.


(Yorkin)

The sailor takes another swipe at the blue-scale before him as it steps toward Sparky. His cutlass contacts the beast but at the wrong angle, shearing down its back along the slick scales. Yorkin snarls in frustration at his decided lack of luck.


(Adur)

The druid continues to bleed profusely from his wounds, his mind, as yet, unaware of his debt to the stoic goliath and the nimble gnome that have temporarily stolen him away from death.


(Fryst)

Stepping back out of range of the madly flailing red skum's spiky club, you regard your own greatclub and summon forth upon it the power of nature to transform it into a more formidable weapon. A greenish glow forms around your right hand and quickly transfers to the body of your club, then dissipates entirely. Nothing seems to have changed--it feels...normal, to you.


(Sparky, Blue Skum 1)

Your luck is slightly better this time, as the blue skum that seems to have become fixated on skewering you takes a step closer but fails to capitalize on your attention being paid to its larger cousin. The spear's barbed head just nicks your rear end, following through to glance off the deck rail.


(Gauran, Green Skum 4)

Despite being blinded by Lock's spell, the green skum to your left continues its attempt to sever your leg. Its bite and first claw claim no flesh, missing entirely, but the creature's second claw manages to scrape hard along your calf, tracing another deep red slice.

~~

(Position Change: Lock -> K-09)
(Position Change: Blue Skum 3 -> I-09)
(Position Change: Fryst -> P-09)
(Position Change: Blue Skum 1 -> Q-06)

~~

(PC Damage: 6HP to Gauran [badly injured])

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk
(Round: 8 | Init: 3 | AC: 13 | HP: 39/39 (okay) | Position: prone)

As Nivlan passed between Gauran's enlarged bulk and the rail, he could see the blood streaming down the goliath's leg. It mixed with the damp on the deck and left ruddy footprints as the combatants feinted and struck.

Nivlan looked over at Adur, then back at the goliath who was fending off two of the aquatic scavengers. Pelor keep him! I must help Darkstrider first.

OOC, Round 8:Nivlan will move to H-05 (there's room on deck there, right?) and cast Cure Moderate Wounds on Gauran, healing 21 HP. If threatened, Nivlan will cast defensively.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[Round 8 / Ini:2 / AC:7 / HP:55/71 Battered / Rage Round 5 / Position: Entrenched...]

The claws and teeth of the skum tear at Gauran's flesh, ripping chunks out of it and placing the Goliath in a pool of his own blood - only when Nivlan helps with his divine magic the stream is brought down to a trickle.

Unhindered by even those grievous wounds Gauran issues forth a bloodcurdling scream, bringing down the Greathammer hard on the obviously dead remains of the yellowish skum, seemingly oblivious to the multiple threats surrounding him. A feral gleam glints in his eyes, indicating a rage far beyond the normal limits of a barbarian, and any attentive observer would notice an eerie red glow around his Greathammer's head, only barely visible.

After striking the bloody mass on the deck Gauran shifts his position to get a better swing at his nearest enemy, his Greathammer passing well over Nivlan's head.

Round 8 OOC


DM's only!

Standard Action to follow through with the actions as specified in the weapon's curse.

Gauran is taking a 5 foot step to shift upwards to occupy I/J 5/5 and 6/6, which basically means that, because of my 10 foot reach, at the current positioning of enemies, any move the skum number 4 takes in the aft direction provokes an AoO from me. I don't think he provokes if he follows back into 5 foot melee range to myself, as that would be only a 5 foot step for him. So let's hope he is stupid enough to underestimate my reach... :smallwink: .

[KuH]

Bumped to round 9

[Velvet Elvis]

Round 8 wrapup


(Nivlan)

You push past Gauran, keeping a wary eye on him lest you get knocked to the deck by a stray movement of his tree-trunk leg. Passing around him, you do your best to avoid the threatening motions of a green skum at the rail, but fail as it lunges forward, stretching its neck and bringing its rasping tooth-ridges to bear across your belly, slicing neatly through the leather. The pain is significant, but you manage to maintain focus on your plan, invoking your healing power as you press a hand to Gauran's right leg when you pass within reach on your way farther toward the rail.

The green's flat, black eyes reveal none of the typical human emotions you're used to seeing, but its frenetic response to your presence speaks well enough. It appears to glance over the rail, then back to you before launching an attack it, no doubt, hopes to see you shredded by. Another bite, this time across the chest, draws another flow of blood to join the other, and as you reel back, one claw rakes across your right arm, the other, fortunately, missing entirely.


(Gauran)

Having felt the obsessive need to fully obliterate your opponent, you return to lucidity and shift your position starboard to rid yourself, if only temporarily, of two of the vicious skum boarders.


(Kahlynn)

Now having Jorme in a more protected spot beneath the poop deck overhang, you work to rouse him from his magically-induced slumber. A few shakes and a judicious slap across his already rosy cheek finds him cracking open his tiny brown eyes and blinking them clear.

"Wuh...what...where..." come his confused words. You help him to his feet relating your concern that the captain needs help at the helm.

That seems enough to snap him into something resembling full attention, and he immediately looks past you toward the Captain as he continues to struggle with the wheel. He remains confused, as his arched brows indicate.


(Sparky [NPC'd], Red Skum)

A moment of indecision, the blue or the red, both presenting threats. But the red was clearly more dangerous if it were to connect, and despite its several injuries, it was still flailing that huge club with intensity. Angling your rapier for a direct thrust to the thing's knee, you strike, but the tip hits too square and bend slightly before you pull the strike. Your short sword, however, fares better as you draw it across the softer scales of the calf, slicing deeply.

The red seems to scream in its peculiar, fish-like manner, the massive club falling from its grip to crash against the aft rail before bouncing off into the sea in a spinning drop. The beast itself, seems to relax its muscles and fall backwards over the edge to follow its weapon into the depths. As if tethered to the ship, the bobbing corpse trails behind for a moment or two, tugged along by the strong undercurrent, then it, too, is lost beneath the surface.

~~

(Position Change: Nivlan -> H-05)
(Position Change: Gauran -> I/J-05/06)

~~

(PC Damage: -28HP to Nivlan [badly injured])
(PC Healing: +21HP to Gauran [moderately injured])

[Velvet Elvis]

~~~


Your chartered ship continues to be whipped along by the unusual current beneath her keel, though it appears to be slowing somewhat. There is no doubt now, that at this rate and direction the Karil will certainly ground if not crash broadside into the shoals and likely be severely damaged, and it seems it will do so at a point where the water roils and foams as it breaks against the obstacles.

Now out only a half-mile, or so, the blanket of mists along the shoreline clearly reveal the situation: towering cliff faces stretching to the north beyond your ability to see, and south out of sight around the island's curving contours. In that direction, you're now able to see a smaller, though still fairly large, islet separated from the main island by a wide strait. It, too, is shrouded in mists, though thicker and rising higher, and to whatever distance you can see through them, it appears the island is solidly blanketed in greenery.

Plying the somewhat more calm waters only a few ship's lengths to port, is what appears to be a pod of enormous serpents, their long necks undulating as they rise high above the sea's surface to allow their relatively small heads to look your way. As if one unit, their long necks slice back beneath the waves followed closely by their broad, bulky bodies, which quickly disappear entirely with a few powerful strokes of their wide, diamond-shaped flippers.



~~~



End of Round 8

http://img161.imageshack.us/img161/1568/dkendr8spv1.jpg (http://img503.imageshack.us/img503/8853/dkendr8do5.jpg)

- click for full size grid -

~~~

Prevailing Conditions: none. No balance checks required for normal circumstances.

Current initiative positions and damage report:

22 Shael - uninjured
21 Lock - uninjured
19 Captain Merev - uninjured
18 Gigson - severely injured
16 Jorme - uninjured
15 Yorkin - uninjured
14 Adur - prone/helpless/dying
11 Fryst - lightly injured
11 Blue Skum 3 - uninjured

--------round divider--------

10 Blue Skum 1 - lightly injured
10 Green Skum 4 - uninjured
09 Sparky - uninjured
03 Nivlan - badly uninjured
02 Green Skum 3 - uninjured
02 Gauran - large size (10' tall), moderately injured
01 Kahlynn - uninjured


~~~

[KuH]

Fryst
Rd: 9 | Init: 11 | AC: 19 | HP: 49/56 | Fatigued | Position: P9-P7/Q7

Fryst growls at Gigson "I said GO!! HELP THE CAPTAIN WITH THE SAILS!!! This blue beast is mine."

The tired, blood-spattered halfling steps forward into the fray once again, this time toward the blue skum, hefting his club over his shoulder, and swinging with all the might left in his aching muscles, the leopard skin over his shoulders swaying in counterpoint to his heavy swing.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan
(Round 7, Init: 22 | AC: 14 | HP: 26/26 (Healthy) | Position: Midships)

Shael turn as he watches the red beast tumble over the stern rail, and eyes the situation in the bow. He takes a step away from the railing, clearing his view of the scene unfolding.

The wind tears at his soaked black hair, making it stream out and flap behind him. His black hat is sagging from the torrential rain, plastering it to his head, but even its shadow and the driving rain don't entirely conceal his flickering eyes. The green energy has danced its way farther up his arm, encompassing his shoulder and some of his chest, and every muscle on his body seemed knotted with strain.

Serpents? Were I not constrained by your feeble, fleshy shell, I would take flight here and now...

Not an option, fiend. We're finishing this. Perhaps Merev will have time to correct our course, now. Shael's thoughts even sound uncertain, but he draws back his fist, and hurls another bolt of energy at the nearest skum.

Five-foot step to L-08, and launching another sickening blast at the Skum standing opposite the ballista from Lock. Rolled a 14 to hit for 20 damage (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2197538&postcount=171).

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Round 9 | Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Fine) | Position: Centers'ish. )

Lock starts to get annoyed that the battle is taking so long. I guess no one cares if the ship gets smashed and we're all swallowed by serpents, he thinks. He yells to the captain, "Merev! We'll have these freeloaders off your ship momentarily! Tell us whatever we need to do to help your crew, cause I for one don't want to end up a smear on the rocks or rumble in a serpent's belly."

Lock then re-directs his attention back to the skum left. He nods to the giant Darkstrider, saying, "I fully expect you to finish at least one of these off, hopefully here comes some insurance," Lock then takes a 5 foot step back to protect his precious being and falls back into spellcasting trance yet again this battle and casts Sleep at the remaining skum, thinking if the giant doesn't finish one off his spell might knock it out.

OOC: Okay, intersection. I'm going for H/I 6/7, that ought to cover the two left, unless that 20 damage didn't finish the blue off, in which case I'm glad I took a 5 foot step back.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn round 9
(Init:18 l AC 16 l HP 44/44 l Position:thick of battle?Ick!)


Seeing Jorme coming to, Kahlynn hikes her skirts and steps onto the cargo hatch, trusting it will bear her slight weight. Given a bit of breathing space behind, she turns to the fore of the boat to see who might need aid from her God. Her eyes widen, as she sees the carnage, and she calls upon the most powerful healing spells she knows. Her hands thrust the spell from her, speeding towards their fallen companion.

Stepping within range, casting Cure Serious on Adur.

[Avernaith]

Sparky
( Round 9 Init: 9 | AC: 22 | HP: 30/30 (Good) | Position: Poop Deck )

Sparky looks back for a second to see the mighty red skum fall overboard. He furrows his brow in concentration as he whips his attention back to the smaller, but no less deadly blue skum trying its hardest to skewer him. "Come on, you ugly, blue monster. Go ahead and try to hit me. You're just as responsible for my friend dying as that thing was." Sparky flicks the slimy blood from his rapier with a quick motion of his wrist, then crouches down as he waits for the blue to give him an opening. As it raises up to attack, Sparky bounces along on the balls of his feet between the skum and Yorkin, springing deftly up the pile of coiled ropes, then stabs down at the unprotected flank of the skum with rapier and shortsword.

Sparky is making a 10' move from R05 to P06 (hey do I get a Rope Use synergy to my Tumble check for tumbling on rope?), tumbling to get in two more sneakytacks on Blue Skum 1. It has a higher init than Sparky, which is why I posted a wait until after/as it was attacking. I'll have Kahlynn post Sparky's Tumble, Rapier Attack, Shortsword Attack, both damage and both sneak attack damage in anticipation of a stunning and total success :smalltongue:

[blue chicken]

Post-completion edit: Howdy, boys and girls. Hope you enjoy your update...it took me long enough. I know there's a system of efficiency SOMEWHERE here...we'll find it, though, don't worry. I'm sorry for any inconsitencies in this post...it's very difficult to weave it all together. Also, there's one small flaw in the initiative order, but disregard it; the actions happened sequentially, and I just posted them like this for dramatic impact. Anyway...have fun reading, and try to overlook the flaws, if you would.

Round 9 - High initiative

(Shael, Blue Skum 3)

Not letting me out, you say? Come now...am I such a bore? And perhaps you should look to your own thoughts before chastising me for mine...were it not for me, these damned pieces of fishslime would have you flayed up for chum by now!

Working hard to supress the mental tirade of your internal companion, you clear your head for long enough to steady your hand, extending your fingers toward your foe. With your feat set solidly and one eye partially closed, your aim is true; within a fraction of a second, the green light suffusing your form rushes down your arm, building for the briefest instant between the outstretched digits of your hand before departing with a soundless snap. As it does, you can feel a bit of the demon you carry rush through the attack as well; pulsing wierdly, the bolt flies true and connects solidly with your target. The force of the blow staggers victim, and its dead eyes roll back for a moment as the power of your assault invades its form. A secondly later, it slumps forward again, retching, a charred and oozing wound spread across the majority of its chest.

Ha! Mortal creatures...such fragi-

The voice in your head cuts off abruptly as a staggering blow from beneath the ship sends reverberations throughout the hull. Throwing your arms out wide, you manage to avoid falling, bending your knees to maintain your balance. Your victim, however, still gurgling, falls to the ground. It lays there for a moment, still retching, but after a few seconds begins to show signs of recovering, albeit slowly.

(Lock, Green Skum 3, Green Skum 4)

Altering your balance slightly, you scrunch your feet for a moment against the drying timbers of the deck, gratified at the traction. Shuffling a few feet, you close your mind to the sounds of combat at your back and form the spell-shapes of your incantion yet again, your mind tasting the flavor of the soporific power you now call to the fore. Slowly, gently, the tendrils of your insinuation seep toward your targets, enveloping them both in the mental haze of contented fatigue...

The eyes of your targets begin to film over, a hazy white membrane sliding across the empty black orbs as your magic does it work. The Skum at the center of your intended effect, however, shakes its head violently after a few seconds, the membranes snapping back and its head jerking up to lock its gaze upon you. It hisses nastily, but breaks off as the body of its nearest comrade drops to the deck, deeply asleep.

Seconds later, a hollow thump rattles the timbers beneath your feet. Nimble as you are, you remain standing, your brows knitted in confusion about the source of the impact.

(Captain Merev)

Gritting his teeth, Merev continues in his valiant attempt to force the wheel over and alter the course of the ship. Tendons stand out on his neck from the force of his effort, and he groans through gritted teeth at his lack of progress. Still the Captain, he snarls orders to his shiphands, his voice distorted by anger and effort.

"See to yerselves, ye swabs! Too late fer sails, now...just GET THESE DEVIL-SPAWN OFF ME SHIP!"

(Gigson, Skum-Skirm (Blu) 1 )

Roaring a bloodcurdling lament for his lost shipmate, Gigson lunges toward the nearest skum, his weapons raised and whirling before him in a maddened fury. Heedless of both footwork and tactics, he plunges ahead, each wild chop punctuated by a frenzied shout. The Skum in question, surrounded, now, spares only the briefest of glances over its shoulder at the grief-wracked sailor, seeming to dodge his attacks nearly by sound alone and returning its attention to the more immediate threats surrounding it. His clothes soaked in blood and his face, pale, Gigson's shouts turn plaintive yells, and were it not for the moisture still hanging in the air and rolling off of every surface, his eyes would glisten with the force of his emotions.

(Jorme)

Rising with Kahlynn's aid, the pint-sized warrior dusts himself off for a moment, shaking his head a few times before blowing air out of his nose with as much force as his small lungs can muster. Blood and gore from the mess in which he had been laying slatter the deck at his feet, and he pauses a moment, inspecting himself for wounds. He turns to Kahlynn, an expression of curious awe on his face, seeming about to form words of thanks. The yell of his captain, however, snaps him back to present, and after a quick glance around he scuttles to the foot of the nearby staircase to retreive his weapons.

"Don't worry, Cap'n! We'll finish the fishy bastards for ye'! Just gives us a bit more time ta-"

His words come to a halt abruptly, a scream from aft drawing his attention and the sight he sees holding him spellbound.

(Adur)

Drifting at the edge of conciousness, Adur's mind registers the many wounds on his body, but without the pain that usually accompanies them. Only half-lucid, it relaxes, enjoying the pleasant feeling of warmth flowing over its bodies limbs, previously so chilled by the rainwater's cold.

(Nivlan, Gauran)Preoccupied with the creatures menacing you and the condition of your wounded comrade, it comes as an unwelcome surprise to you when the deck railing just behind Nivlan explodes outward and a serpentine column of neck muscle topped with a befanged reptilian head surges onto the deck, snapping nastily. Nivlan manages to skip out of the way, the air displaced by the creature's rush fluttering his robes and the impact shaking the whole forward section of the ship. Light on his toes as a result of his last-minute dodge, Nivlan rides out the shockwaves easily, but his larger comrade, Gauran, just barely manages to stay on his feet, swaying unsteadily before rocking back to the deck with a soft thudding sound.

Bare seconds later, a nearly identical head bursts through the ship's railings across the deck. Its powerful jaws snap around the head of the sleeping Skum, and remove it with a swift flick as the creature attempts to slide back beneath the waves. Snorting mightily in irritation, the creature blows a fine mist over the individuals left standing as it surges forward once again, mouthing the decapitated body of its victim and descending quickly, vanishing under the ship and toward the open water.

The water at the bow, stirred by the passing of the immense creatures, calms quickly, but just as quickly begins to foam wickedly, cross-currents and the forward momentum of the vessel evidently playing havoc in the waves.

(Kahlynn, Fryst, Sparky)

Bursting from the waters with all the speed and silence of the nightmare this day has become, a serpentine head flashes up and around the ship's railing, darting back down as its length extends to snap toward Gigson. A fearsome row of teeth punch gaping holes in both sides of the battered man's ribcage before the monstrous neck retracks, lifting him a few feet off the deck before swaying for a moment. Gigson's screams terribly for a moment, but cuts off abruptly as a spasm wracks his ruined body; stiffening, his face locks into a rictus of calm agony, only an odd twitching in his face and lips betraying the unendurable suffering he feels as the jaws continue to grind together. The creature holding him prisioner then lifts its neck its remaining length, and Gigson's placid eyes scan the gathering once more, locking for a moment with Sparky's as he scuffles nearby. His mouth works soundlessly for an instant as he holds the gaze, but in less than a second his remaining color drains away as a sickening snap reverberates across the rear of the vessel. His head lolls limply, lifelessly, and the monstrous creature responsible for the sudden and violent cessation of his existence responds by tossing the corpse once in the air and catching it to adjust its purchase before pushing off from the vessel and sliding back into the water, its bulbous body quickly sinking out of sight as it arrows under the water and back toward the open sea.

(Yorkin, Skum-Skirm (blu) 1)

Blinking several times in the lull caused by Gigson's death, Yorkin appears to regain his composure before the rest of the engaged parties in his immediate area. Snarling with a hatred that belies his normally jovial personality, he reverses his grip on his cutlass, adding his free hand to the one on the hand grip before leaping forward and around the blocking shield of his blue-tinged enemy. Using the creature's preoccupation with Sparky to his advantage, he manages to drive his blade into the creature's side, opening another jagged gash along its ribs before jerking his weapon back to the ready position. The creature snarls, sagging, but does not yield, its black eyes ferocious in their emptiness.

(Fryst, Skum-Skirm (blu) 1)

Befuddled by the apparent failure of your spell, your inner voice chides you through the fog of your fatigue - something about the balance of nature and ensuring that the proper conditions be met before one attempts to alter the balance. Dismissing the bothersome internal commentary as momentarily irrelevant, you grit your teeth, and summoning your internal reserves once again you surge forward- or, at least, you begin to, but Gigson's sudden departure from the world of the living momentarily delays your action. Your anger sees you through the shock, however, and you continue to advance after just a moment's hesitation, your clud held overhead. Using the momentum of your brief steps to engage, you swing the weapon up and around, angling the strike to bring your heavy bludgeon into solid contact with the back of your distracted enemy's neck. A cartiligionous pop resounds, and one side of the creature's body seems to go slack for a moment. It issues a watery grunt of pain, shaking off the effects of the strike, readying its weapon for another stab at your fellow halfing.

( Skum-Skirm (blu) 3 )

Rising from its place on the deck, it wipes bile away from its lipless mouth with one webbed hand as it steadies itself on the nearby ballista. Gazing coldly around for a moment, it assesses the scene on the deck, then casts a wary gaze into the water below. Looking ahead of the ship, its eyes snap back to the water and narrow. After a final, brief assessment of the array of foes against it, it seems to decide that the it would rather take its chances with sea monsters and currents than with the blades and bolts of its formidable shipbound opponents. Turning, it launches itself high over the railing, departing into the water without a splash.

[KuH]

Fryst

Given my travels, I may not be able to post promptly on Monday ... so in anticipation, here is my post. Please post it for me if I do not:

Fryst shouts out "These snakes from the deep are the real threat. Leave the fish-men be! Let's make a defensive bulwark around the captain, in the lee of the poop-deck, and pull the rowboats in to help provide us with cover from their attacks. Then with Gauran's hammer and any ranged attacks we can maybe injure a beast, and then hope they turn on each other as the carnivorous fish of my rivers do!"

He will carefully withdraw from the blue (avoiding an AoO) and move to match actions to words.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[Round 9 / Ini:2 / AC:9 / HP:57/73 Battered / Rage Round 6 / Position: Flailing...]

Fighting for a steady footing Gauran lurches around, finally regaining a stabile position. His features a mask of wrath, he prepares for his next attack against the Skum in front of him, speaking, his voice seething with rage:

"Anytime we eliminate one of these maggots there seems to be sprouting a new one somewhere else! But I will take down every single one of you, rest assured!!!"

With the last words he slams down his Greathammer, reducing the skum to a broken pile of flesh and bones.

Again his eyes darken and he makes to purge even the last semblance or possibility of life out of the doomed creature.


Attack: 26 / Damage: 26

DMs: Please do not forget any possible AoO any passing Serpents might elicit because of my reach, if they hold their heads too high :smallbiggrin:

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

Nivlan looked fearfully at the monstrosity that had tried to bite him in half. He was frozen to inaction until Darkstrider crushed it with his greathammer. Then he roused himself as out of a trance and cast a spell to heal himself.

Delay init until after Gauran's action. Then, cast CModW upon himself for 25 HP healed. I presume that the adjacent skum is now dead; but if not, he'll cast defensively.

And Kahlynn's Cure stabilized Adur, right?

[Velvet Elvis]

Round 9 - Low initiative


(Captain Merev, All)

The Dancing Karil suddenly shifts aft to starboard and bow to port in tandem with the crushing sound of impact to the ship's stern. Another serpent, far larger than those already seen, rises from the sea to tower above the raised quarterdeck, having already battered much of it into a shower of wooden chunks and splinters that eventually cascade back down and out of sight into the sea. But in the moment between, all aboard the stricken ship are severely shaken by the collision. Kahlynn is thrown hard to the deck, while Yorkin is taken fully off guard, tossed straight toward the remaining blue-scale, who somehow finds the wherewithall to dodge the body as it flies to land with a thud precariously close to the nearly twenty-foot drop over the shattered edge. Lock, surprised from behind as he faces toward the bow is also knocked to the deck, but manages to turn a shoulder enough to roll and avoid injury. Shael, standing beside him is also unable to keep his feet as the powerful jolt races through the ship. The elf, at least, manages to mitigate most of the injury, as he twists to avoid direct impact with the main mast footing, bouncing from the rounded corner and just avoiding rolling down the crew cabin stairs. Sparky, being so near the aft rail, potentially, receives the worst result of the lot, being thrown completely clear of the ship, dropping just shy of twenty feet into the water, disappearing for a moment, but bobbing to the surface as the current, though weakened from before, carries him along behind with a fair bit of flotsam to keep him company.

As the crew and passengers are preoccupied with the shock of impact, the enormous serpent raises its huge head, though tiny by comparison to its massive leathery body, pivots, striking down and forward at the nearest target, snapping the aft mast near its footing with a resounding crack that threatens to pierce your eardrums. The spire of wood crashes down toward Yorkin's position only a split-second before, having already been knocked from his feet, by sheer luck, and managing to avoid being crushed to pulp under the mast's massive weight, made more fierce coupled with force of its momentum. The column of wood slams into the deck, destroying a section of the starboard rail before rebounding, flipping and dropping heavily into the sea not twenty feet from Sparky.

With mouth agape, bearing teeth the size of a man's leg, the serpent removes most of Merev from his beloved ship. A sickening crunch carries along the wind, accompanying the sound of shattered deck wood as the heavier chunks clatter down. The massive head pulls back with a whiplike motion taking its tiny meal with it as it rolls away from the ship and bears aft and to port, silently slipping beneath the surface.

A few moments later, the captain's hands finally release their death grip upon the helm spokes and drop to the deck amidst the debris.


(Blue Skum 1)

Perhaps fearing continued attacks from the serpents, the blue-scale brings his shell-covered shield fully before itself in an effort to prevent Fryst from delaying its escape. Backing off toward the edge, it allows itself to fall limply overboard, though it springs to life as it breaks the surface, pumping its webbed feet and quickly disappearing below.


(All)

The ship, still riding high on the weakening current despite the massive damage to her stern, is definitely doomed to ground upon the rocky shoals ahead. Her current condition, the speed, and the sinister aspect of the rock spires spells both the likely end of the Dancing Karil and the definite end of your voyage upon her.


(Sparky)

Your short plummet into the warm water was hardly intended, but you find yourself quickly bobbing to the surface and racing along just behind the ship, upon the same stiff current that carries her. Around you, flotsam composed of shards and splinters of the quarterdeck, aft port hull planking and odds and ends shaken free from the now gaping hole into the captain's den and cargo hold.

Your bobbing and rolling renders it difficult to focus upon your destination, but it is clearly obvious you head toward a rocky shoal. With luck on your side, you manage to grab hold of a large, flat plank that may serve to absorb some of the inevitable impact.


(Gauran, Green Skum 3)

Your determination to rid the ship of skum is not deterred by the violent appearance and disappearance of the huge serpent. You raise your heavy-headed hammer just as the green skum attempts to dodge over the rail. Correcting instantly, you manage to swat the thing across its lower body, sending it spinning down and into the water. Its lower body was a complete mess as it hit the surface and it's quickly lost to sight. As you watched, you noticed that the serpent that had impacted the rail behind Nivlan was no longer circling about, no doubt long since gone, it's broad, deep keeled bulk not appreciative of the strange beauty of the spire-dotted rocky shoals.


(Nivlan, Green Skum 3)

You thought, for a brief instant, to strike at the skum with your dagger as it tried to escape, but, instead, you shy back realizing Gauran's hammer would quite likely catch you should you get so close to its target. Instead, you pause momentarily as the goliath swats the ill-fated skum like a fly, and quickly takes a finally clear option to summon forth the glow of healing energy upon yourself, erasing all but the smallest of your painful wounds in a mere moment.


(Kahlynn)

The violent shaking of the deck due to the serpent's impact takes your feet from beneath you, throwing you down against the lip of the cargo hatch door as a chunk of quarterdeck planking rains down, embedding a large splinter into your shoulder, before falling away to leave a deep, bleeding puncture wound. But your concerns remained on Adur, lying helpless and certainly dying if not dead already. Mouthing another plea to Pelor, you rise quickly, ignoring all else happening around you, focusing entirely on your errand of desperate mercy, and move as far as your unsteady legs could take you toward the stricken druid. You manage to step around the debris, bringing yourself beside the still sprawled form of Shael, and within mere feet of Gauran's massive bulk, but it was close enough and now you had a direct line of sight to Adur's body, crumpled and tucked as it was in the point of the prow. You could hardly fail to notice the impending situation directly before you. The rocky shoals stretched out ahead, spires of rock or coral reaching high into the air in some places; certain death for a ship this size, even in the best of condition.

[Velvet Elvis]

~~~


There remains no doubt that the Dancing Karil will see its last moments as flotsam eventually collected upon the rocks of this forsaken island. An ignominious end, for sure. Possibly the Captain's own tragic end was a piece of luck in disguise for him, as it would be a close choice between such a death and the sight of his beloved ship breaking up upon the rocky shoals while under his futile command.

The skum, save for a bedraggled blue-scale, have all been vanquished, or have fled, having miscalculated their own situation. Unfortunately, Salt, Gigson and the stern but amiable Captain Merev are now part of the history of this place. With some luck, perhaps more than you have, perhaps not, you may someday be able to tell the tale of the Dancing Karil and the crew that braved the nomansland far beyond the Wyche's Line, when so many others had cringed at the mere idea.

But for now, you must either brace for impact and hope for the best, or choose another course. But there is precious little time....



~~~



End of Round 9

http://img164.imageshack.us/img164/1544/dkendr9sye9.jpg (http://img161.imageshack.us/img161/7641/dkendr9xp4.jpg)

- click for full size grid -

~~~

Prevailing Conditions: none. No balance checks required for normal circumstances.

Current initiative positions and damage report:

22 Shael - slightly injured
21 Lock - uninjured
16 Jorme - uninjured
15 Yorkin - uninjured
14 Adur - prone/helpless/dying
11 Fryst - lightly injured
11 Blue Skum 3 - badly injured

--------round divider--------

09 Sparky - overboard
03 Nivlan - slightly injured
02 Gauran - large size (10' tall), moderately injured
01 Kahlynn - slightly injured


~~~

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge
( Round 10 | Init: 21 | AC: 18 | HP: 28/28 (Fine) | Position: About to be crushed. )

This is bad, Lock thinks. He gets up and glances about at his allies, about to suffer the same fate as him. Unfortunately, my own skin is all I might be able to get out of this situation. Best of luck to you all.Lock then stares at the approaching rocky shoals, and prepares himself for the spell to save his life. If he did it way out here, he'd have to swim in from the ocean, so he had to make this as close as possible.

OOC: Okay, I'm going to ready an action to cast Levitate (http://www.systemreferencedocuments.org/35/sovelior_sage/spellsHtoL.html#levitate) on myself just before the ship hits the rocky shoals to get my a** out of the fire, as they say, shooting up 20 feet as soon as I do. After the combat or next round if there is one I'll probably be descending and attempting to "clamber" my way onto the island as per "the recipient [of the spell can] clamber along the face of a cliff, for example, or push against a ceiling to move laterally (generally at half its base land speed)."

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

With the green skum no longer obstructing access to Adur, Nivlan can see that the druid is still in bad shape. Kahlynn had made her way to him and is doing what she can; but surely she can use help--he's pretty far gone. He steps beside her.

Panicked by the threatened ship, but focused by the need before him, he casts a healing spell on Adur.

OOC:This post assumes that Nivlan can get this action off before the Big Bang. According to the Dice Rolling Thread, he heals Adur for 21 HP.

It would seem that we'll have no way of retrieving our supplies and stuff before The End. I guess we'll have to wish for a Swiss Family Robinson-type bounty once we wash ashore.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan
(Round 10, Init: 22 | AC: 14 | HP: 24/26 (Slightly injured) | Position: Lifeboat)

Shael's body is sore and stiff, wracked with chills from the saltwater and wind. Gooseflesh tingles along his arms, and a cold sweat blends with the spray on his bold nose and brow as he strains to control Marix. His mind still reels from the blow he sustained as he landed, but reflexes and the attentive devil behind his eyes bring him into action. A swift glance and he dismisses that last, enfeebled skum. The monster is no longer a threat.

Eldritch energy crackles and dances about his entire right side, and is beginning to leap from finger to finger on his left. He crawls swiftly on hands and knees, his spiderclimbing invocations steadying him, and pulls himself up to the boat. His thin-bladed knife makes a quick slice, sawing through the nearest rope securing the boat to the deck.

Imbecile! This dinghy is half-full of water! It will sink! A faint grin, quite close to maniacal, twists Shael's lips. Not if I capsize it!

Spiderclimbing/crawling the distance to the starboard lifeboat (the one without the skum), and cutting a rope. Once its in the water, it will ideally capsize, useable as a float, even upside-down. It's a tenuous hope, but my best bet for survival, really.

[KuH]

Fryst

"GAURAN!" shouts the little halfling in a surprisingly loud voice. "GAURAN!! CAN YOU LOWER A BOAT OVER THE SIDE ... SO WE CAN GET THE INJURED ABOARD AND BOARD IT. That should increase our lifespan momentarily ... and I have a rope ... we can grab ... close to the cliffs, so that ... when the boat ... capsizes ... we can climb ... together."

The last words come out in bursts as he moves forward to N6, stowing his staff as he goes. His clothes are still spattered with fish-creature blood, with even a few drops on his brow, but he pays it no heed whatsoever, his attention totally on this next challenge - survival. They didn't promise us a stroll in the woods, and I guess this isn't one.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider
[Round 10 / Ini:2 / AC:9 / HP:57/73 Battered / Rage Round 7 / Position: On the run...]

Rising through the mists of his rage is the imminent doom of the Dancing Karyl, with his last foe vanishing even his weapon ceases to exert its inexorable control over his bloodlust. Gauran takes the situation in, seeing the two clerics attempting to reach Adur with their spells but also the rapidly nearing rock spires, and makes a decision as he hears Fryst's shouts from the aft.

I have to keep it flowing... I cannot afford to be weakened right now... use it, Gauran, use it and stay alive!

He makes a grab for the limp form of Adur and lopes for the starboard rowing boat, half dragging, half hauling the druid with him and yelling underway:

"YOU PRIESTS FOLLOW ME! HEAL THIS SACK OF MEAT IF IT IS NOT BEYOND YOUR ABILITIES, BUT DO IT NOW!"

When he reaches the boat he notices that the boat is half-filled with water, and promptly spits a string of Gol-Kaa curses:

"$%§&$%&§!!!!$%&/$&(/$!$%&($%$!!!!$%($%($!!!"

He drops the druid quite unceremonially to the floor and prepares to topple the rowing boat...

"FRYST! I NEED A HAND HERE!"

[The_Snark]

Adur

From somewhere, energy flows into his form, and wounds cease to bleed and begin knitting themselves shut, though Adur is not aware of that. All he is aware of is the sudden peace, as though he has been resting for weeks upon a soft bed, though strange noises and a rocking motion filter through...

...and Adur is jolted from his respite by a huge arm and shouting suddenly come nearer. Blinking awake, memories filter back: the boat, the skum at the bow... We are still upon the same ship? How long has it been? The sight of one of the skum's corpses is enough to jar him out of his reverie. No time has passed at all, it seems... No sooner has the thought occurred than he is unceremoniously dropped to the deck.

Twisting about to raise himself off the deck, Adur spots the rapidly looming crag, and his eyes widen in surprise. We'll never make it away from that in time...

Don't know how much of that I'll have time to do before we hit, but if there's time, Strength check to aid another came out to 10. Barely succeeded.

Edit- Apparently none of it. Edited.

[Avernaith]

Sparky

Sparky quickly clambers onto the nearby piece of wreckage and nimbly gets to his feet. The planking wobbles slightly as he stands, but the forward rush of the surf seems to help it stay somewhat stable. Just keep your balance until you see beach, then a jump and tumble and roll. Wow, a real sea serpent. Dad will be so proud!

"I'm okay everyone, just going to try to get on land. Be careful. Wow, did everyone see the Sea Serpent? That was amazing."

Poor Salt...I hope all the other crewmen are okay too. This plank riding through the surf is pretty neat. I should come up with a name for it.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn round 10
(Init:18 l AC 16 l HP ?/44 l Position: prone on deck


Half-blinded by the stinging spray, Kahlynn clutches her shoulder with one hand, and single-mindedly calls upon her God to send His rays of well-being to her intended target. Pelor! Help me to aid my comrade in his hour of need, and i will enter your Embrace with a joyous heart ...


...for it's far too late to teach your servant to swim...

Casting Cure Moderate on Adur, am assuming he still needs healing, because I couldn't find listed hit points. Nor do I know how many I'm down.

[blue chicken]

Kahlynn, Sparky, Snark - GAH! You guys ninja-posted me! It's not too horrible, though...Snark, I'm afraid that your transformation simply didn't occur, since you'd just awakened when the ship impacted. Kahlynn, your healing spell wasn't completed either...Sparky...you're lucky. Your post seems fine to me...might want to make a balance check, if you could, though.

Act II, Scene I: Rocks, Rookeries, and Revelations


*~*
Time seems to slow for the companions aboard the stricken vessel. The Karil, rather than dancing, is now beginning to wallow; despite her sturdy construction and heretofore excellent maintainence and crewing, her wound is grievous, and the heavy seas and vicious currents surrounding her are taking their toll. Water rushes into the smashed port quarter, a blue-green flood capped with white that seals the fate of the doomed ship. Even as the tide washes into the Karil's inner compartments, however, a flood of debris and cast-off items swirls out into the water, buoyed on a foamy counter-current and swept briskly toward the cliffs of the onrushing island.

The Karil, still striving valliantly to hold the course set by her recently departed captain, plows on through the waves in spite of her handicap. Her injury, however, is not so easily overcome; the weight of the water filling the vessel causes the back end to settle and drag, raising the bow while pushing the aft section closer to the water line and slewing the ship to port. On the upper decks, the footing becomes treacherous as the torturous groanings of the dying vessel manifest themselves as shuddering vibrations, making footing unsure and reactive activity extremely difficult. Had Salt or Captain Merev been alive to bear witness to the sights and sounds of the Karil's demise, their hearts would undoubtedly be rent asunder. The sounds of the failing vessel are those of a dying mother; heartbroken, betrayed, and helpless to protect her charges. The Karil's stern makes violent contact with a submerged shoal and shears from the main body of the ship with the sound of hope evaporating. Fryst, Yorkin, Jorme, and the unrecognizable remains of what had until recently been Salt are lost with the wreckage, disappearing at least temporarily into the green oblivion of the island's shallows.

On the forward section, the companions fall to the deck as the lighter bow section rights itself in the water, still careening at a considerable clip toward a narrow inlet in the cliffs. Nivlan nearly goes over the side at the jolt, having just completed his incantations to preserve the fragile link binding Adur to the world of the living. Luckily for the Druid, fate has not yet seen fit to snip the thread of his life on the rocks and shoals of the uncharted sea, and his eyes flicker open just as another powerful jolt rocks the shattering wooden shell that was once the Dancing Karil. Kahlynn barely manages to stagger upright before the new shock throws her to the deck once more, bloodying her nose, the white-hot pain of the impact causing a flash that dims her sight for a brief second. Gauran, staggering toward the aft section of the ship at the time of its seperation, goes to his knees, his hopes of reaching the starboard lifeboat vanishing in a curtain of salty spray as the impact rends the heavy rowboat from its moorings and sends it bumping over the shorn-off stern to land in the sea, filled with splinters and foam, but miraculously upright. Across the deck, Shael's holed vessel follows a similar path, sliding through the splintered deck railings and dropping into the water with the manic Shael still inside, a demon screeching unintelligibly in his head as the lifeboat begins filling immediately.

The source of the jolt is not immediately apparent, but the horrid grinding and clattering as the Karil's bottom is torn out by submerged shoals leaves little doubt as to the racket's origins after a few seconds. Before the hulk can settle, however, it hangs up, a sand and gravel bottom visible just over a fathom down, the Karil's prow burrowed deeply. The wreckage seems to be in little imminent danger of sinking, and the companions remaining aboard have just begun to pick themselves up when a wave slams into the open cavity astern. The impetus of the water itself is immense, and proves too much when combined with the awkward angle and pitiful condition at which the once-Karil has come to her final rest. Within seconds the remaining ribbing holding the wreck together buckles, folding outward and ripping the deck out from under the feet of the party on board. Everyone above is swept away in a hail of water, wreckage, and confusion with the sole exception of Lock, who utters a last incantation and launches himself into the air with a sweeping gesture of his hands, rising several meters above the wavetops and hanging motionless over the water.


Mechanics spoiler (1d10 Impact check rolled off-site...1-3 bad news) -
Sparky - 10
Gauran- 8
Kahlynn- 9
Nivlan- 6
Shael- 7
Fryst- 4
Adur- 7

What?! You lucky little...gah.


For just a few seconds more, time seems to stop completely, revealing the scene in its perfect chaos.

A massive, broad-shouldered behemoth standing in defiance of the waves, his broad shoulders and head just protruding from the treacherous waters, his tremendous strength and a sinister warhammer his only hope for survival.

Two healers, each a sparkle of divinely-inspired illumination, set adrift on a sea of inky darkness with only the godly glimmer of their mutual deity to light their shaded way.

Two halfling adventurers, both brimming with vitality and energy, one filled with an unquenchable lust for life and the other with a passionate frenzy and feline intuition, thrown to the fickle mercies of a capricious sea.

Two orphaned crewmen, shorn from the ship and captain they loved, forced to make their own ways with only each other and a group of former passengers they've just begun to know.

A mysterious druid, torn between the mysterious worlds of fey and human, lost in the space between nature and civilization...dragged back from the world of death by the grace of Pelor and cast into a watery pergatory.

An elf divided against himself, waging an unceasing war of wills with an alien consciousness he's only barely beginning to understand and striving all the while to control forces that threaten to tear him apart from the inside.

A resourceful gnome, relying upon the force of his personality and his magical gifts to get him into and out of situations that are tight even for one so small...alone, now, seperated by foresight and magic from his floundering compatriots.

Dispersed, they linger on the water's surface, ten seperate lives, bound up in a common quest for survival...swept, now, by the fury of wind and wave toward an unknowable and terrifying ordeal the likes of which none of them have ever dreamed of.

A bare second later, the surreal stillness of the scene is shattered as another wave sweeps through the shoals, pummeling the living, dragging them from the numbing calm of shock and daring them to fight for their lives yet again.

*~*


Players- Well, there you have it. Talk about fun to write. You're all in the open water, now, about 40 yards from the "beach," in water about 10 feet deep. Make your swim checks, or do whatever it is you intend to do to survive. There are debris around...a floating lifeboat is within 30' of anyone's position but Sparky, and Shael is presently in a sinking, holded, right-side-up lifeboat. Good luck; hope everyone's clear on what happened.

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge

Lock breaths a sigh of relief. That was a close one, he thinks. Having little resources to attempt trying to help any of the others floating about, Lock carefully descends back to the surface of the ocean. Making sure his gear is securely fastened, he then nabs a nice plank out of the water. "A rowing we shall go," he says with a chuckle, as he then uses the board as a paddle in the water to propel himself through the air and towards the island. Fancy Wizards and their Flight spells, he thinks, I had to work my *ss off to get ahold of this little trick alone.

OOC: No, I have no idea what mechanics are involved in "rowing." Levitate says characters can pull/push themselves along to move laterally at half their base speed, so rule whatever you wish. I should make it to shore well within the spell's 5 minute duration. He is, of course, ready to shoot back up in the air at any and every first sign of trouble :smallwink:.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider

The impetus of the wave swiping him from the deck, Gauran falls into the water with a monumental impact, slowing himself just enough to land on his enlarged feet. As his head surges out of the water to draw breath he only has time to notice the second wave before it washes over him, leaving him spluttering curses and seawater.

Then he begins defying the ocean and walks to the beach, matching the strength of the waves step by step until he sets foot on the beach.

With every passing step on the beach Gauran's form diminishes in size, until it reaches its normal dimensions - still huge compared to a mere man, but not the incredibly large raging giant anymore.
After a moment of utter exhaustion from the change he rallies his strength and turns to take in the situation.

Mechanics


I would take a Full-Round Action three times to move towards the shore. In the dice-rolling-thread I have made 3 Swim Checks with 34, 32 and 19. Basically, of course I could swim, but it would be so cool if you'd grant me the walk action :smallcool: , please?

If I could manage to move in every round just 15 feet (Half speed for a successful Swim Check would be 20 feet) I should reach the beach and then my rage is over, reducing my size to normal again.

If I cannot walk I should reach the beach within the first two rounds swimming.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

For a brief moment, Shael's appearance is exquisitely comical. The crackling energy around him winks out as he shoves Marix's irate conscious from his mind by shear force of will. Water drenches him as he crouches awkwardly in a rapidly sinking rowboat. His wide-brimmed hate droops forlornly above a wide-eyed, pale face, his mouth slightly agape. His clothes are darkened with water—soaked completely through—and the boat is beginning to list sideways as it sinks.

If only there'd been a lake at the monastery.

With a grimace, he scrambles across the boat and leaps into the water, flailing his arms and pumping his legs—not bothering trying to resist the powerful currents, only floundering through the water towards the nearest bit of floating, large flotsam.

Just what the post says. The relevant Swim rolls are 11 and 17, I think. He's launching himself out of the lifeboat toward the nearest supporting flotsam. He's not really trying to make any progress, especially, just stay afloat and collide with some floating stuff, whether it comes to him or he comes to it is of no consequence.

[blue chicken]

Shael: The list of the boat, combined with the push from your legs as you exit, serves to turn the half-filled vessel onto its side. It performs a sluggish roll in the water after a few seconds, the upright side of the hull completing the loop that your spring began and slamming to the surface. Now up-ended, the wrecked lifeboat floats awkwardly, its timbers buoyant enough to support it despite the hole in what is now the top of the floating shell. It bobs up and down for a few seconds, spinning slightly before stabilizing and beginning to sweep toward shore with the tide.

[KuH]

Fryst

Fryst rises smoothly out of the depths and surfaces within moments ... his mind going back to a time far in his past when he almost lost his life and his spirit guide came to save him. He grabs smoothly for a piece of flotsam Why swim unaided if you don't have to?, stops for a moment to take his bearings and see if his comrades are fine We'll need all the help we can get ashore and then starts kicking towards either the person in most trouble to offer them a flotation aid, or the shore.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

Sputtering, Shael reverses to capitalize on the newly available flotation device. He wraps his arms over the top, not pulling himself entirely on, and adds to his buoyancy by extending his legs out from the craft, and giving them occasionally pumps to stay afloat. His hands maintain a firm purchase on the slick wood, thanks to enchantments laid on him with Marix's power.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

Nivlan coughs out the shot of salt water that he snorted when he was tossed into the water. He treads water for a few seconds, looking for anyone that may need help.

Yay for taking 10! (Unless you rule that he's distracted/threatened by the foundered ship) If Nivlan sees someone in immediate peril, he will swim to them and attempt to help--by pushing him/her a plank or something, not by allowing himself to be manhandled and inadvertently drowned. If not, he'll strike out for the rowboat, climb into it, and row to pick up anyone else he sees. (Are the oars secured inside it? They should be.)

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn

Hitting the water with an undignified splash, she tries to stay calm as panic floods her as surely as seawater. Even her oftenest-said prayers desert her as she struggles to stay afloat. Unsure of which way to go or how to get there, Kahlynn merely tries to keep her head above water, leaving her at the cold mercy of the waves.

[blue chicken]

Status update: (non-literary, sorry...swim checks don't merit much of a write-up. Excuse the time-lapses as well...they're just for convenience.)

Gauran- Safely (heading) ashore.

Sparky - Safely (heading) ashore.

Fryst - Attempting to aid Kahlynn swimming. (Roll your own swim check, and if successful, roll a check for "aid another", and if successful Nivlan can add a +2 bonus to his modified check...aid only on rounds Kahlynn fails her check) Add a +4 bonus on your checks for the float. Still in peril.

Nivlan - Attempting to aid Kahlynn swimming. (+5 (now +7...see Kahlynn's entry below) DC to your checks to bring her along, rolled every round she fails a swim check. Note that Fryst is trying to assist, assuming he continues to do so and can keep himself afloat. Still in peril.

Adur (NPC'd) Made a successful swim check to stay on the surface, then transformed into aerial form and flew to the beach. Safe.

Lock - Rowing to shore (in the air?) safely. Considered safe until beach is reached/actions are modified.

Shael - Kicking on boat toward shore. Swim checks assumed succesful. Hands not free for other activity. Still in (slight) peril.

Jorme/Yorkin - Swimming to board floating lifeboat. Still in peril.

Kahlynn - Holding breath under water. Rolling a concealed Will save to avoid panic, DC 13. Oh...11. How sad. HA! Add an additional +2 to the swim DC to assist you. (Increased checks apply only on rounds you fail your swim checks.)

All: You notice the water around the reefs boiling in a manner not consistent with what you've seen of the regular rip-current. The disturbance is moving over a wide area toward the position of the PC's still in the water.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

And... stay there... you monster... Grimacing and spitting saltwater, Shael pumps his legs awkwardly, drifting with the current toward shore atop the back of the boat.

And then he notices the advancing froth, and gurgles an oath through salt-parched lips, gone suddenly dry with fright, "Broken eggs and leafblight, what in the homel—Hell's name is that!"

He roars, gagging on fresh saltwater, "Fryst! ::cough:: Something's coming! Hurry!"

Clapping a hand to his head to steady his hat, Shael swings his legs up and under, along side the edge of the boat, sliding his back up onto it, clutching tightly to the boat. Not a technical maneuver, by any means, but hopefully sufficient to blend him with the drifting piece of flotsam when combined with the dark, turbulent waters and surrounding debris.

Eek! Monstas inna wadder! I'm trying to get as much of myself on the "lifeboat" as I can, without destabilizing it or making it/me sink, and then tucking my legs in along and under the side hoping to blend in with its shape to the casual observer/predator.

[KuH]

Fryst

What am I doing here! I'm no great swimmer!! And I once almost lost my life doing this!! Fryst bravely catches his breath, and sees if he can reach down to help Kahlynn, while holding tightly to his float with the other hand.

Hold steady, she is with you, feel her, see her, there - her hand is on you Fryst moves smoothly through the water, shocking those who have never imagined feline grace and water combining, and successfully reaches the struggling Kahlynn, as he lifts her towards the surface. His leopard skin cloak floats on the waves behind him as he shakes his tousled hair, and pulls Kahlynn's hands towards a float.

[PolkaBear]

Nivlan Kirk

Nivlan saw Kahlynn struggling, flailing about in her panic. She's going to drown on her own. I need to--thank Pelor, Fryst is helping her too.

While Fryst maneuvered Kahlynn toward a piece of debris floating nearby, Nivlan maneuvered the debris toward Kahlynn.

OOC:Crappity crap crap. 7 out of 10 rolls (once I put them in the correct thread) were 5 or less. Maybe I should have Kahlynn roll my dice for me. :smallbiggrin:

[blue chicken]

Edit (Oops!) Sparky - Paddling for all you're worth as you hang on to your chunk of debris, you skim across the surface of the water in a fast section of current, riding the waves as you do so. Though not yet out of the water, you're far from your companions and out of peril. The rocky beach approaches. (Note: You'll be out next round.)

Nivlan, Fryst, Kahlynn - Confusion begins to replace shock and adrenaline only seconds after the three companions enter the water. Fryst, struggling valiantly, reaches under the water and is just able to haul a combative Kahlynn to the surface, receiving a few sound clouts across the face in return for his efforts. Nivlan flounders in the water nearby in his efforts to help, but between the two of them they manage to push a float to the struggling healer. She does not calm, however, and though she now grips the float with a vice-like deathgrip, her situation seems little improved from a few moments previously. (Note: All three swimmers now have a flotation device for +4 bonuses to swim checks.)

Shael - FOOL!! Since when has hiding ever helped you solve your problems? What are you doing? Will water stop you so easily? Perhaps it will...but it will not stop ME! Release us! Cook whatever it is before it sinks our raft!

All in the water, over the water, and on the beach - Strong swimmers, both Jorme and Yorkin appear to have made it safely to the drifting lifeboat and have clambered aboard without flipping it. During their struggle, however, the current, ever treacherous, has dragged the dinghy further back out the inlet, and Yorkin's determined strokes on the oars appear barely sufficient to bring it back into the in-rushing channel against the rip current. He appears to be pulling for all he's worth, though as the boat nears the foaming patch of water concern is evident on his face even from a distance. Jorme is perched on the bow, a hand shading his eyes and the other cupped around his mouth to yell. His shout sounds out over the distance, just reaching the ears of all listening over the rising hiss off the thrashing waters.

"Lock! Loooooooooooock! You have to help Kahlynn! Something's in the water! They'll all drooooooown!!"

Meanwhile, for those in the water, the approaching peril is no longer quite so distant. As the furthest extensions of the bubbling reach your position, you begin to feel an increasing barrage of painful pinpricks against the parts of your bodies below the waves. Few in number now, it's clear enough from the density of the approaching disturbance that a sizable swarm of something will be upon you very shortly. Whatever it is, it hurts enough now that you're less than inclined to experience its full force when it arrives in a few seconds. Some of the creatures that comprise the swarm seem to have been borne upward by the densely-packed mass of their compatriots underneath, and every now and again a small creature can be seen cresting the surface before smacking back to the water with a small splash; in fact, as they close, it appears that this jumping and splashing is the source of the disturbance.

Shael, Kahlynn, Fryst, Nivlan - Roll spot checks , DC 15. If you succeed, you see......the most disturbing medley of shrimp and nightmare that you've ever heard tell of. Just an inch or two in length, the bizaree creatures skipping on the surface of the water seem to be covered by a tough outer shell and are propelling themselves with flicks of tiny but powerful tails as well as with a disquieting array of spiny appendages along their lower sides. Four small tentacles bristle from the facial regions of each creature, an eery purple-green in contract with the clearish hue of their carapaces.

If you make the spot check, roll a knowledge: Nature check, DC 13. If you succeed......you recognize enough of the tiny terrors' anatomy to classify them as some kind of swarm-feeding aquatic predator, similar to but different from others you're familiar with. You get the feeling that these are somehow...older...and more primitive than specimens you've seen before. The stings you're feeling are undoubtedly administered through the tentacles you've recognized, and from what you know and feel you worry that they're administering a deadening nerve-venom that could slow and eventually stop your movements to make you easier prey.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

Hissing oaths in Elven and Infernal, not bothering to try and conceal his obviously fluent understanding of the less sociable side of the devil language, Shael tries grimly to scramble the rest of the way onto his raft, making use of his spiderclimbing ability as he tries to hoist himself out of the water. The perforated hull of the rowboat may prove to be a less than ideal float, but he'd rather not be in the water when the few burning stings become more.

[KuH]

Fryst

Fryst shouts out "WE NEED HELP!! We call these Zargist - deadly aquatic shrimp with a nerve poison. If we get out of this alive, I'd like a few dozen ... BUT LET'S GET OUT, NOW." He looks frantically around for a larger piece of flotsam to swim towards and drag himself out of the water in ... or the lifeboat if that is closer and starts to swim quickly towards it.

OOC: Possible further comment coming after chat with DMs: Well, with a spot check of 31 I probably can count the feelers on them ... and with a Know Nature check of 28 - that was a natural 20 - I suppose I can place the phyla and genus.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn

Buoyed by the piece of floating debris and the assistance of her comrades, Kahlynn manages to keep her head above water long enough to set her sights on the shore. Unable to do anything about the swarming creatures, she begins to pray to herself through clenched teeth, and kick for the shallows.

You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine
You make me happp-eeee when skies are grey
You surely know, Pelor, how much I love you
Please don't take my sun shine away....

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge

Lock sighs. Yup, he thinks, I've gotta try to save 'em. Less allies means less chance of completing this quest. Trust is a two way thing, they say, and I'm almost out of spells...

Rising a bit out of the water for his own protection, Lock desperately searches the recesses of his mind for a magical solution to others' plight. Grabbing the first idea he has not knowing if it'll work or not, Lock produces a stick of incense which instantly begins to glow and smoke and then seems to explode in a myriad of beautifully shifting colors, which fly over and cover the area where the bubbling in the water is.

OOC: Casting Hypnotic Pattern (http://www.systemreferencedocuments.org/35/sovelior_sage/spellsHtoL.html#hypnotic-pattern) over the bubbly. The radius should have it extend well into the water..

Doh, I forgot to roll my 2d4 if my spell works. Total HD I can affect is 9 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2261900&postcount=192).

[The_Snark]

Adur

The transformation had been almost instinctual to Adur; he could swim, had gone swimming many times in streams and lakes, but unknown waters, particularly ones such as these, could be dangerous; and as the druid wings to shore, he realizes his companions might need his aid.

Doing a quick circle before landing, he spots his companions, coming in to the beach with varying degrees of aptitude and speed; in particular, he spots the strangely disturbed waters. Sharks? No; they would be visible if there were enough of them to make such a disturbance. Some smaller fish, perhaps, or some more of this sea's strange magic.

As he lands, he transforms once more, the clawed feet of an enormous osprey stretching into his human form once more. He turns to look back out to sea, wondering what to do. Should I return to aid them...? No, if the enemy is underwater I would be useless out there. Aware that his energies are nearing depletion, he weaves magic out of the air to summon a creature from cold arctic seas, pointing to the water, and in the water a shape made of ice begins to form.

Casting Conjure Ice Beast II at maximum range, which I think is 35 feet. Summoning an ice beast version of a Small water elemental, with the breath weapon (1d6 cold in a 30-ft cone, Reflex DC 11 half, every 1d4 rounds) and cold aura (1d6 cold to all within 10 feet at the start of every its turn) abilities. HP: 19. Construct immunities and special vulnerabilities as usual, natural armor changed from +6 to +2, Strength upped to 18, everything else is the same as the elemental. We'll get to instructions when I know what's going on next round.

[blue chicken]

((OOC...so...do you guys trust me with off-site rolls? I really like to use the dice bag from the d20srd, just because it's handy...and I only ask because that shrimp swarm with a will save of 0 just rolled...um...a seventeen...which...is Lock's spell DC... Sorry. Should I do them somewhere more visible from now on, or do you mind the surprise?

Edit: Luckily, I just noticed that dear Lock gets +1 to his illusion spells. Yay, feats....and pretty colors. Talk about close calls.

In addition...we're not in an initiative stack or anything, strictly because I don't feel like it. Don't sweat it too much.))

All - With a toss of his wrist, Lock casts an illusory pattern of mind-satiating colors toward the dirsturbance. The colorful ball seems to burst like fireworks just above the swarm of aquatic creatures bearing down upon his companions, sparkling brightly for a brief second before resolving into a subtler twisting array of colors, shapes, and patterns. Though at first the colors seem to have little effect on the near-mindless horde, after a few seconds the forward momentum of the rushing water pauses, slowing gradually in its advance before curling back in and over itself. Directly beneath the pattern, the water erupts into a constant splatter of foam as tiny creatures break the surface and plunge back into the water at very short intervals. Rather than being fascinated, the tiny creatures seem enraged, the subtleties of the hypnotism clearly lost on their primitive senses. Still, their advance seems to have halted, and the companions in the water quickly notice a slackening and eventual cessation of the stings to their legs. Or at least they think they do; though the barrage of envenomed strikes has ceased for the moment, the warm numbness of poison-induced fatigue is already beginning to set in. Any more poison in the systems of the swimming companions would have undoubtedly completed the insidious work of sapping their strength, leaving them helpless in their watery environs.

Stroking with all their might, the three comrades manage to put some distance between themselves and the rainbow lights, moving almost 30 feet toward the shore. (90 feet remaining.)

On the beach, Adur completes a complex series of gestures, eventually invoking the keystone energies of a summoning spell. Icy vapors rise from the water some distance offshore, coallescing and crystalizing to form the physical manifestation of what seems to be an icy water elemental. Formed of the very water it now resides in, the embodiment of cold, the icy chunk of elemental bobs on the wavetops for a few seconds, unable to dive because of the buoyant material it is constructed of. Still, this seems little obstacle to the newly created creature, and after a few moments it explodes into motion, skipping across the wavetops by methods unknown. Summoned far from the beach to begin with, its momentum quickly blasts it past the swimming survivors, and its motion begins to take on a strange rotational quality as it nears the befuddled sea creatures. Gathering itself as it arrives, it seems to go berserk, circling and spinning like a top until the water around it takes on the characteristic whirls of a vortex. The very bottom of the whirlpool seems to just scrape the bed of the shallow coastal waters, and within seconds it stirs up a cloudy, silty mess. The creatures, previously so intent upon the flashing lights, are now held powerless in the midst of the swirling maelstrom. The elemental, however, seems to be giving its all to carry out the essence of its master's desperate commands, and the strain is apparent; despite its pluck, it is evident that the conjured beast will not be able to keep this particular trick up for long. Between the swirling, slamming motions of the waves, ice, and debris, though, a high-pitched squealing can just be heard as some of the less hardy members of the swarm pop and shatter under the pressure of the cold bludgeoning.

Away from the drama playing itself out in the coastal waters, Sparky hauls himself out of the tidal pools and onto the beach, wet but seemingly little worse for the wear. Yorkin and Jorme too, satisfied for the moment that their friends-by-neccesity are at least somewhat safer, have turned their attentions to reaching the shore. Yorkin's broad strokes seem to be carrying him into calmer waters, and with help from Jorme (who has picked up a smaller rudder paddle and is now going at it with gusto) the duo are making good progress toward the beach. (60 feet to go)

Shael, however, scrunched as he is against the timbers of his tenuous liferaft and unable to effectively propel himself, moves closer to the beach only by the motion of the tide. (100 feet left.) His position brings him dangerously close to the struggling of the aquatic contenders, a mere dozen feet or so from the sucking, swirling edge of the elemental's zone of influence.

Shael- WHAT! ARE! YOU! DOING?! Strike, you pathetic sack of meat! How long do you think the fey-creature's iceberg will last, eh? They'll swarm us! You've seen them jump! DO SOMETHING! I REFUSE TO DIE HERE!

[AmoDman]

Eleberry Lockwidge

Satisfied that his spell successfully subdued the creatures Lock watches as his companions make it closer towards shore. He shakes his head at the oncoming ice elemental however, and thinks Fool, I had them taken care of...Sighing as he loses interest in the entire situation when the elemental heads over, Lock continues his row towards shore.

[Tyrel_Aurelian]

Darkstrider

Seeing the peril his companions are in, Gauran looks around rather helplessly at first. Then, as the Ice-Elemental attacks the swarm and keeps it in place and Shael displaying his futile efforts to get really closer to the coast while the other comrades seem to manage, he takes a decision.

He makes a move to lay down his weapon, but somehow needs three attempts to really let go of it. The Greathammer is the first piece of all his equipment to be laid down, followed by everything else except his pants.

"I cannot believe that anybody should manage to be so utterly inept at this! I am of the mountain folk, dammit, not a stinking, godforsaken mermaid! HOLD OUT SHAEL!!! I AM COMING TO HELP!!!"

With this words he runs into the water and begins plowing through the waves in direction of the hapless warlock with powerful strokes of his arms.

Mechanics

As grand as my design sounds, I am making JUST 20 feet per round as a full-round action. Makes five rounds of travel if he doesn't manage to get faster, maybe four if he is drifted towards me.

As long as the waters are not counted as being stormy I can take ten, which leaves me at a check result of 22 every round. As I have beaten the standard DC by 5 or more (without counting any modifiers you might want to implement that I do not have knowledge of) you might consider granting me a speed bonus (e. g. +5'), but that is entirely up to you, of course.

When I reach Shael I am going to play ocean mule, figuring out how the flotsam could be pushed or dragged along fastest.

I'll wait for an interim before I post my second IC Post (bringing the Warlock home).

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

SHUT UP! SHUT UP! We can't fight a swarm of little monsters! You want to pick off each one, one at a time? You think that will WORK?

Sliding his legs off his raft, Shael begins furiously pumping his legs to carry him towards shore, spouting a stream of irate curses the whole way.

[blue chicken]

Shael - GRAH! You are dense, you know that? They're underwater! My energy would disperse across their entire swarm! They'd be dead in seconds!

[KuH]

Fryst

Fryst continues to weakly paddle to short, supporting himself on the float as the poison deadens his system. As he kicks, though, he calls out "Harvest some of them! Harvest some shrimp." His cat-skin cloak makes a colorful wake behind him as he kicks along.

I assume I'm taking 10 on my swim checks from here on? If not, you can roll them for me.

[blue chicken]

No need for an interlude...you'll get one of those soon enough. For now, you'll have to live with a...

Summary: The ice elemental held the swarm trapped in its vortex for two rounds, inflicting damage with its bludgeoning and icy aura effect. As soon as the vortex stopped, however, it was torn to pieces by the creatures, having damaged itself in the warm waters and with the vortex attack. The swarm then wheeled and took up a pursuit of those in the water.

The swarm is now 90 feet from shore, though somewhat reduced in size.

Lock has now reached the shore.

Yorkin and Jorme have now reached the shore.

Shael is now 80 feet from the shore.

Gauran is now 50 feet from shore, and 30 feet from Shael.

Nivlan, Kahlynn, and Fryst, assumed to be working together, are now 30 feet from the shore.

[Annarrkkii]

Shael Greyswan

"NO! GAURAUN! GO... GO... BACK..." Shael's voice grows strained as he tries to shout through gritted teeth.

I said FIGHT THEM.

No... no! I've given you too much reign today...

FOOL! Would you rather die than surrender to the bliss and power I can offer? Are you that opposed to me!

His eyes close. Slowly, Shael's legs stop their kicking. He turns, and green light flares deep in his emerald eyes as they open once more, smoldering and burning. His drenching clothing pulls at him as he adjusts himself, positioning himself on the edge of his makeshift raft, facing back towards the swarm.

"Go back to shore Gauran," his voice is strong and calm once more. "Go back."

Green energy blossoms about his fist, dancing and leaping up and down his right arm, shoulder, and chest. His damp twitching, moving under the influence of the currents of eldritch energy.

I swear this once more, fiend. If I use your power, it will never be for your Hellish ends. Once this swarm is charred, I will crush you to the darkest recesses of my mind.

But of course. I expect nothing else. The vaguest suggestions of a menacing, fanged smile dances across the back of Shael's mind.

And the first bolt flies.

AWFULNESS OF DAMAGE ROLLS! Blahggkrgk. Three Twos and a Three. Just... awfulness. Hit touch AC 15 for 10 damage. Dunno if DC 15 Fort. or sickening applies to swarms. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=2277330&postcount=194)

[blue chicken]

Annarrkkii- Oh, lucky you...circumstances, circumstances. Swarm rules say that weapons equipped with energy damage do their full damage to a swarm...I'm not sure why spells such as Fireball and the like don't, exactly, but...they should. Since we've determined your Eldritch Blast is electricity-esque, and you're attacking a swarm that's IN THE WATER...I think full damage is appropriate. Presumably you're immune to the effects of your own energy since you're mostly atop of a rowboat, so...

Wheeling to launch his energy from his perch atop the rowboat, Shael extends an arm toward the boiling mass of approaching predators. He succumbs to the tugging from within, and a split-second later a multi-forked jag of green energy blazes into the water in the center of the swarm. The emerald energy buzzes and crackles as it leaps through the interface between air and water, and a small cloud of glowing green steam rises from the surface where liquid flash-boils to steam. Spreading out from its point of impact, the energy zig-zags across the surface, twisting and jumping like cracks in a glass window. Hundreds of tiny creatures are overwhelmed by the enormously energetic impulse and rise to the surface, twitching weakly and keening as their carapaces burst.

The rest of the swarm, reduced to almost half of their previous number, seems to hestitate for a moment, its individual members bobbling and twisting in the water, evidently discomforted by the sickening nature of the energy. Their momentum, however, does not entirely dissipate, and within moments they gather themselves again. They rush forward and leap at Shael's legs, stinging and piercing viciously and scrabbling at the skin with horned exoskeletons before sliding back off into the water.

((Status update: Assuming Shael moved and then readied an action to attack as the swarm approached. This puts him seventy feet out, along with the swarm at seventy feet. All other swimmers have made the shore. If Gauran turned back, he has made the shore as well. If he presses forward, he is now in the square with Shael and the swarm.

Shael: You've taken 4 damage and are now fatigued from venom.))

[KuH]

Fryst

Fryst drags himself out of the water, aiding Kahlynn as he goes, and then turns collapses on the ground in a wet squelch, cloak splattering the ground behind him. He looks wearily out to sea. "Are you OK, Kahlynn? Almost drowning like that is a life-changing ... ummm ... " He breaks off for a moment, and then changes the subject. "Gauran is a big guy - I hope he can look after himself. As for Shael, well, he seems to be doing well at frying those Zargist up. That will make it easier to harvest them afterwards. That's good venom to have. It will be great to rebuild my stock again ... after I catch my breath." He sits and breathes deeply, as color returns to his face, and energy seems to ease into him.

[Kahlynn]

Kahlynn


... chokes and splutters, ridding herself of the sea water she has swallowed, leaning forward to try and rub life back into her numbed legs.

"Is everyone all right? What about the crew? Did they make it?" She looks around the beath, trying to wipe her eyes dry enough to see. "I'm not certain I can reach anyone, Fryst ... can you tell if anyone needs help?"