3SC's Skull & Shackles IC

[3SecondCultist]

"Skull & Shackles"

"They came aboard, all blades and screams. We didn’t have any fight in us, and they took our provisions, our extra sails, all of our tools, and our fat sot of a captain’s gold. Then they asked who the chief carpenter was. When everyone looked my way, they clapped hands on me and dragged me across to their ship. That was one year, ten battles, and twice as many ports ago. Had I known that I’d be better off on a pirate’s ship than on a merchant’s vessel... well, it reminds me of part of a song the sailors sang when I used to cut planks for the Shipwrights’ Guild: 'There’s a ship that’s a leavin’ Quent, and on you’ll quickly sign. The captain’s a tyrant, the bosun’s worse, but she’ll a-suit ya fine...'"

- Mathis Trevain, Master Carpenter aboard the Emerald Wake


It's the water that wakes you. Cold and stinging, it coats what remains of your belongings in a layer of indiscriminate salt and grime. Some of you even manage get it in your nose or in your mouths. Spitting and stirring awake, a few of you open your eyes and immediately wish you hadn't. It's hard to remember the taste of anything sweeter than the sea, and yet you're quite able to do so. Fragments of last night float back to you: ringing laughter about the tavern, the scents of richly stewed meat, frothy ales, and perfume lingering about your mouths. All of it the heady joy of excess. And of course, everything you can remember only makes the sights and smells before you all that much more intolerable.

Beyond your pounding headaches and the mingling of cheap wine and salt water on your palettes, you are met with a wooden floor and the unmistakable rhythmic creaking of a vessel out at sea. Wherever you are now, it's certainly not Port Peril. Looking up to get a better view of your surroundings, you are immediately met by a crowd of leers. Several unwashed sailors stand over you with buckets, no doubt the ones responsible behind your rude awakening. There are six of them in all, plus one figure in the back: an assorted crowd, that includes a huge half-orc, a surly dwarf, and two women. One of them, a massive Garundi, stands in front, her face hidden by a demonic mask (which Petaba recognizes as his own). Those that aren't brandishing weapons at you are not far from drawing one, should things get rough. Once she sees to it that all of you are conscious, the Garundi turns back to her superior, who paces the deck of the hold.

The man in question seems to be set with a permanent sneer, a braided beard, and a mouth full of gold teeth. His body is tall and thin, and even his long coat and heavy boots fail to give any impression of strength or bulk. His skin is shiny with a fresh coat of sweat, which has resulted in several noticeable bouts of crippling warts. In his hand sits a deadly looking whip, which judging by the different sort of stains on the handle, has seen quite a bit of use. His eyes regard you like an eel about to pounce on its prey, as he opens his mouth to speak for the first time. "Still abed with the sun over the yardarm? On your feet, ye filthy swabs! Get up on deck and report for duty before Cap’n Harrigan flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry ye up for breakfast!" The man doesn't introduce himself, nor does he seem intent on giving you time to collect yourselves before facing your new ordeal.

So, a few things. I've included a few spoilers based on skill DCs below. More often than not, I'll be including those in the IC thread, so as not to miss them. Please roll OOC and then make an IC post, otherwise just write a placeholder with the rolls spoilered and then edit your result into your writing. I find it's the neatest way of handling things when it comes to making rolls. Another alternative is to just roll on Roll20's built in die roller and then use that to formulate the data for a post. Everyone is free to make the rolls to try and feat the DCs.

Now, as to the matter of gear. All of your characters will begin the game without any of the equipment you've bought, aside from the clothes they are currently wearing and an item or two that the pirates missed or didn't care enough to take. All armor, weapons, spellbooks, and holy symbols (as well as other miscellaneous items) must be bought, bartered, or stolen back from the pirates at a later time. Here is the list of items for each character:

Jarred - mirror
Catrina - nothing
Kana - nothing
Petaba - spices
Variel - nothing
Hiss - blanket
Lodan - healer's kit
Thysh - deck of cards

You'll note that a few of you are starting with literally nothing but the clothes on your back. Since you didn't give me any gear to work with that wasn't armor, weapons, or a spellbook of some kind, the pirates just left you with nothing. Fear not, you'll be able to get all (or most, at least) of your precious gear back before too long.
Your keen senses pick up a distinctive aftertaste of oily nutmeg on your tongue, veiled behind the traces of other foul substances that reside therein.
You recognize the taste immediately, putting the pieces together and discovering that the agent used to bring all of you here was in fact oil of taggit, an ingested poison no doubt slipped into your food or drink in order to disguise the taste.

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

The water splashed across the assembled 'recruits,' bringing about surprised splutters to a wave of jeers from the assembled crew. As the others were roused by this rude awakening, there was a low rumble from the center of the group where a lumpy pile of blankets sat. Even as the thin pirate berated them and demanded they rise, the mound began to move, now wet with nasty salt water. The man held his whip at the ready, as if looking for an excuse to use it immediately, but perhaps just as surprising to the group was the blankets rising up in their midst.

The blanket began to hover, rising up up to well over six feet. The wet fabric slid away, revealing a huge figure, seemingly clad in dark armor. However, upon closer inspection, the creature wasn't clad in armor - it was covered in scales that shifted between black and blue, swallowing the light as it touched upon them. A large crest ran from the figure's forehead to the back of its neck; its chest and arms were covered in numerous piercings and markings; and a long scar ran from its cheek (?) to its throat. The monster that stood breathing heavily in the center of the group was heavily muscled and imposing as any nightmare.

From somewhere on the face, two slits opened, revealing piercing yellow eyes, like those of a snake, sweeping across the group before settling on the man with the whip. It knew land wasn't close - it had felt the ship moving late last night. It considered the distance to the man with the whip, whether it could make it to him before anyone could intercede, but the other armed men seemed to anticipate those thoughts as their hands hovered near weapons. It could almost taste the fear in the air ... but this was not a fight it could win.

Not yet ...

Inhaling deeply, its chest swelling up impressively, it let out a long "Hissssssssss" before it moved towards the nearest exit.

Okay, throwing an Intimidate check here - call it a "Don't mess with me" check for now :smallsmile: [roll0]
EDIT: Figures ...

Heading up to the deck, I suppose ... unless something exciting happens.

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: None

[WalkingTheShade]

An unusual hangover

Lodan turns around on the floor, presenting his back to the general direction from where that first bucket of salt water came. He mumbles: “not now, Joana...” A kick in the lower ribs finishes waking him up. “Alright, 'right.” He slowly moves to a sitting position, registering the great pain throbbing through his head “ouch,” and a taste like a hundred rotting mackerels in a very, very, desperately, dry mouth.

The sight of an imposing armored black... reptile? dragon? whatever it is, emerging from under those blankets achieves to convince Lodan he should go back to sleep and wake again, hoping this all is indeed a nightmare and that a modification of his state of consciousness would induce a change of predicament.

A woman with a demonic mask towers over him. “Say, you wouldn't have a drink to spare?” She kicks him hard, in the belly this time. “Didn't think so,” through gritted teeth, as he bends over. As the woman readies another kick, he shows an open palm. “Alright! Got it! Standing up now!” Lodan stands, one hand out towards the woman in a gesture of submission, the other over his aching belly.

Lodan surveys his companions of misfortune. A bunch of ragged looking people, with all colors and shapes. A couple of them (a half-orc and the black dragon-man, who seems to be also sharing their circumstances) seem tough enough. Time to make friends, Lodan. He takes a couple steps towards the half-orc, extending a hand to help him up.

Perception, as queried: [roll0].
Knowledge (local) to identify the various humanoids around (PC and NPC): [roll1].

[Sen isSaqqara]

What a nice start to what will surely be a nice day says the little voice in Thysh's mind. Waking up in the belly of a ship that she does not remember boarding is nothing new to her, but the angry pirates are a novel touch. She tries to chase the sleep from her mind, largely unsuccessfully, and decides that it might help to pull her face from the water-drenched floor and get up.

She quickly draws in a breath in preparation for the shift to her feet, and accidentally draws in a nosefull of seawater from the floor. It burns, as seawater is wont to do when applied to the inside of one's nose, and she splutters and coughs. It has the effect of quickly waking her up, though it does mean that she has to draw another breath to rise.

She swings her feet around, getting them underneath herself, and unfurls to her full (albeit still quite limited) height. She holds her back straight, more in the interest of stretching than of good form, and stands to attention. No sense in making things worse for herself.

As she waits, she watches the others, seeing out of the corner of her eye what each of them does. She is distracted somewhat by an odd taste in her mouth, perhaps some remnant of the night before, but she can't quite place it. She turns her focus back to the pirates in front of her, ready to respond to any order that will avoid the application of that whip.

Perception: [roll0]
Craft: Alchemy [roll1]

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

A low, rumbling groan escapes from Petaba's cracked lips. The soft pulsing in his head heralded a hangover, though not one of enough potency to explain waking up in a place he had no memory of getting to. The foul taste on his tongue though, that could offer a clue. He couldn't quite identify the substance, but it very much wasn't how beer was supposed to taste, even in a place like the Formidably Maid.

A moment, and his head clears enough to resolve the scene. The man with the gold teeth was barking orders at them. A Garundi woman with a fearsome mask (His mask! That thief!) was stalking about. And standing above him, a shaggy-looking human with his hand extended. The human was the only one who seemed to be friendly at the moment, so Petaba accepts the help up. He staggers to his feet, swaying along with the roll of the floor. His clothes were filthy, the muck obscuring the bright patterns, and not helped at all by the saltwater that forced the cloth to cling. Tyrvus would have mocked him endlessly for such a disheveled appearance. The state of things indicated only one possible thing: they were on a ship at sea.

Petaba nods to the human. "Thank you, friend." He looks around again. An enormous black lizardman and a blue gnome catch his eye. What interesting company he had found himself with.

[WalkingTheShade]

A new friend

Lodan grins at the stranger's usage of the word: friend. “Name's Tanner,” whispers Lodan, “I, for one, will keep my head down in front of those,” with a sly nod towards the man with the bloodied whip.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Deliberately opening his eyes, Jarred takes only the briefest moment to look at his surroundings without moving his head before lifting himself up and standing among the other press-ganged riffraff. As he notices his sister among the unfortunate crew members he growls quietly to himself. "Figures that we would end up together," he mumbles as he reaches down to casually help her up. "Come on - it's going to be a rough day, better to move fast and push hard," he grumbles into her ear before turning and looking at the others more closely.

Several of the others look tough enough to take a beating and keep on kicking, and the reptilian man could certainly be a useful ally. As the creature rises and hisses at the assembled pirates Jarred nods in understanding. Speaking in the sibilant tongue of the true dragons, Jarred hisses at him,

"Greetings. You speak the language of power - strike fear in the fools' hearts at your own risk, though. Watch your back or they will put a shank there..."

Turning to the rest, he spits, "You heard them - move! Don't keep the captain waiting!" Then he roughly pushes through the hatch towards the weather deck, deliberately moving to the front of the group.

Perception [roll0]
Untrained Knowledge (Local) [roll1] to remember anything about the captain or recognize any of these pirates (allowed through campaign trait)

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

"Aye, that seems like a good idea. You can smell the malice on him. Petaba Fane, by the way," Petaba says, gesturing to himself. "Might as well do as he says and get up to deck."

Petaba walks unsteadily to the way up, keeping his head down. He casts a sidelong glance at the woman who had stolen his mask. He'd be getting that back soon enough.

The light was blinding, a bright spear into his brain. The cackling of gulls only made it worse. A solid mass bumps against Petaba's thigh. He pats it, smiling. Seems though his captors had taken everything else, they'd missed his spices. At least he wouldn't have to eat flavorless food for what seemed to likely be a short life.

[WalkingTheShade]

An unwilling sailor

“Bootlicker,” mumbles Lodan under his breath, for Fane's sole enjoyment, as an answer to the red-haired man's shouts. Yet, Lodan gets in line to move out, giving a wide berth to both the black dragon-man and the one with the whip. The red haired man is apparently with a red-haired woman. Are they lovers? Related? Who cares?

As he takes a few steps forward, he feels something pressing against his calf. He remembers grabbing a dagger last night, and slipping it into his boot, but this clearly doesn't feel like a knife; dammit.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh, having initially missed the part about getting to the deck, moves along with the others. She steps quickly to stay just ahead of the middle of the group, trying not to jostle anyone too badly, instead relying on her small stature to let her dodge and weave as required.

[n0ble]

Kana wakes up with a sputter before blinking the salt water out of her eyes. The druid's tongue swirls around the inside of her mouth, picking out some vague sensations that she can't quite place. She listens to the bearded man's words as a pained look crosses her face. No. Not again. The despair is quickly replaced by a smouldering anger. She knew what needed to be done. Blend in, stay low, bide her time and wait for an opportunity to escape. Just like with Coal-Dark.

She gives a quick furtive glance around the hold at the others before silently falling behind the great scaled man. As odd as his appearance is, the sea most certainly holds stranger things. She'd heard them amid the currents and tides. Back in the grotto. Shaking the memories and remaining grogginess from her head, Kana heads up to the main deck.

[DarkOne-Rob]

“Bootlicker,” mumbles Lodan under his breath, for Fane's sole enjoyment, as an answer to the red-haired man's shouts.
(Jarred does not notice the other PC whispering.)

Perception [roll0] vs DC 15

[Farmerbink]

The pleasant darkness of debatable existence shatters in an instant as briny water is flung unceremoniously into Catrina's open mouth and nose. Hacking and sputtering, the lean young woman rolls away from the assault reflexively. Caught unawares- unconscious, even- the splash makes it extraordinarily difficult to catch her breath which comes out in thick wheezes, the last two interrupted with a few heaves of bile, salt water, and empty air.
...as he reaches down to casually help her up. "Come on - it's going to be a rough day, better to move fast and push hard," he grumbles into her ear...Catrina looks up into the familiar green eyes of her brother's square face. Nodding, she accepts his help, and largely lets him pull her to her feet by main strength.

Only then, squinting in the dimly lit room, does Catrina take note of the full depth of her brother's comments. "Oh." The simple word reveals the full depth of her dismay abundantly for all to see. She lowers her head at the bark of an order, largely ignoring her fellow captives as she whispers a near-silent prayer to Besmara. Jarred barks a strikingly similar echo, and a faint smirk appears on Catrina's lips- presented only to the floor.

Forcing her expression into one of passive submission, she steps towards the door- eager to not disappoint.

[3SecondCultist]

By the time you all reach the main deck - followed by the man in the whip and several of his cronies - it becomes quickly apparent that you are on a sizeable ship and nowhere near the mainland. The best you can see of land at all is a faint ochre haze on the southern horizon, many miles astern. Those of you with any knowledge of geography know that you're somewhere in the northern reaches of Jeopardy Bay, at least a good day's sail away from Port Peril. The sun is quite bright, casting a baleful eye on the deck, and although there's a good northwesterly wind in the ship's sails, you can feel the heat the moment you emerge into the light.

Looking around, you come to notice that you are not the only ones on deck, not by a long shot. Nearly half a dozen figures cluster around the main deck, at the base of the mainmast, and in the rigging. Pirates, just like the ones at your back. But none of them are looking at you. Instead, they gaze up to the higher deck on the stern, where two more people stand. One of them is a broad, muscular Garundi man with a shaven head, a long beard bound with gold rings, and an eye patch over his left eye - clearly the captain. The other is a younger, balding man with a long black ponytail, wearing a long cost and carrying a well-used cat-o'-nine tails.

By the time all eight of you are out in the open, the two officers on deck begin to descend the starboard stairs down to the main deck. As he approaches, you can see that the captain's armor is adorned with skulls, and he wears a pair of swords at his belt and a pair of double-barrelled pistols in holsters at his side. His face might as well be made of stone, but the man's eyes are alight with some spark of cruel amusement. "Glad you could join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for 'volunteering' to join my crew. I'm Barnabas Harrigan. That's Captain Barnabas Harrigan to you, not that you'll ever need to address me. I only have one rule - don't speak to me. I like talk, but I don't like your talk. Follow that rule, and we'll all get along fine."

"Oh, and one more thing," Harrigan says as he turns back towards the door to his cabin. "Even with you new recruits, we're still short-handed, and I aim to keep what crew I have. There'll be a keelhaulin' for anyone caught killin' anyone. Mr. Plugg!" The man with the ponytail turns to him with an open scowl, but the captain pays it no mind. "If you'd be so kind as to make proper pirates out of these landlubbers, it'll save me having to put 'em in the sweatbox for a year and a day before I make pies out of 'em." With that, Captain Harrigan is gone, striding into his cabin and promptly closing the door behind him.

In the wake of the captain's departure, everyone else looks to the man in charge: Mr. Plugg. For the first time since you've seen him, he breaks into a nasty looking smile. "Come on, you swabs! Amidships, double time! Let's see what you're made of."

For those of you who know the score of pirates around the Shackles, the name 'Barnabas Harrigan' began aboard this very ship, the Wormwood, several years ago. At the time, it was captained by one Alastair Flint, but after one fateful journey, the ship reappeared with Flint dead and Harrigan in command. The man has developed a fearsome reputation since then, even escaping a Chelaxian blockade fifty miles off of Khari, although it cost him most of his existing crew. Harrigan is a born pirate, and apparently as ruthless as they come, although he's not born to wanton acts of cruelty.

[WalkingTheShade]

The reluctant pirate

Coming up on the deck, Lodan thinks he hears drums for an instant, before realizing it's just the heat renewing the pounding between his temples. As they are walked towards the officer Lodan holds a trembling hand in front of him. Alcohol deprivation or mundane fear? Not a day for juggling with knives for sure.

While in front of the officers, Lodan takes a deep pride in his total absence of curiosity to look over these men, which in turn helps him avoid any chance of eye contact as he finds the tip of his worn boots far more interesting. He swallows when he hear the captain's name, recognizing it all too well. It could be worse. It could have been... well, no kidding oneself, it's as bad a situation as they come.

When Harrigan leaves the floor, Lodan raises a tentative hand, even daring to raises his eyes to the level of Plugg's chest. "Sir? Please? I'm Tanner, last assignment: carpenter and surgeon on the Peace Makes Plenty, in case you're in need of such work..." Lodan grits his teeth, bracing himself for a possible blow.

Knowledge (local), [roll0].
Diplomacy, [roll1].

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh takes a half-moment to realise that she has no idea where amidships might be. Partly for that reason, and partly on general principal, she waits for one of the others to make the first move. She follows close behind, trying again to be just ahead of the middle of the pack.

She keeps an eye out for anyone having trouble. She's not in a very good position to render much assistance, being a rather small individual, but down in the hold a few of the others seemed friendly enough, and perhaps she could indicate to one of them that help is needed. She would hate to see that cat-o'-nine-tails being applied to anyone before she has the chance to meet them.

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba waits to see what sort of reception Tanner receives before offering his own skills. Harrigan might not be known for pointless cruelty, but this Plugg seemed like a made sadist. If he was the sort who could restrain his viciousness for a moment to hear a man out, then Petaba might speak up. If, however, the man was as nasty as Petaba expected, it would be better to just follow along. Every instinct towards freedom and action cried out against such submission, but Petaba could recognize a situation where defiance might very well get him killed.

[St.Just]

The Bewildered Arcanist

Variel wakes poorly, spending nearly a minute coughing up salt water and only really clearing his head once he's walked into the painfully bright sun. He was actually fairly used to accidentally getting a mouthful of seawater, but the pounding hangover was certainly new.

The tall, weedy elf makes a point of keeping to the center or the group and keeping his head down as they're led to their orientation speech, muttering in oddly accented elven under his breath "Nine hells, I knew things were going to well."

Once the ship's captain introduced himself, Variel's head shot up in surprise, his off-white eyes wide with shock. This really wasn't great, he'd made a point of not working for anyone who had a habit of killing people in the past, not a precedent he liked set when he was around.

Swiftly regaining his composure, the elf waited to see how Lodan's offer was taken before speaking. Manning whatever weapons this place had was almost certainly a better job than what was currently planned for him, but he wasn't about to get stabbed for speaking out of turn.

[Farmerbink]

Catrina looks about the assembled and unassembled crew with undisguised curiosity. Her eyes widen appreciatively in particular when they stray across the captain's two-barreled pistols. She has the good sense to remain silent and submissive to anyone who speaks.

...Well, most anyone. She almost drops her jaw to the deck when some damned fool has the audacity to speak when told to move. She then promptly trips over a waifish Gnome with colorful hair, as the short woman hesitates when ordered as well. "Amidships," she hisses. Gently enough to not throw the woman over, Catrina shoves her in the right direction as she regains her balance. Still under her breath, she offers a hoarse word of guidance. "It means the damned middle! Now come on, before you taste the business end of that scourge!"

Stumbling through the hazy fog that is reality after that much alcohol- for it was indeed primarily alcohol that caused this affair, Catrina hustles towards the middle of the ship. Whatever this is, it won't be good, she complains silently.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred watches and listens stoically, standing tall and allowing his strong arms and back to be seen. When Tanner speaks he doesn't turn to look, instead waiting and watching out of the corner of his eyes as he leads the bulk of the new crew members towards the center of the vessel.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh keeps pace with Catrina, after stumbling the first few steps.

"Thanks. Wasn't certain if they meant middle in the up-down sense or the front-back sense. Or both."

When they arrive, she tries to find a place next to her new redheaded acquaintance. If nothing else, this unexpected trip at least presents the opportunity to meet some new people, and to hear some new stories, so she feels that she had better get to work. Catrina strikes her as the kind of person who would have an interesting past, and who could perhaps be a friend.

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

The large lizard-man was walking towards the deck when a voice spoke in a language it recognized. Yellow eyes flickered towards the speaker, taking in the red-haired man, then returned to the path in front of it. It hissed a bit, but continued on to the deck, where the Captain and the remainder of his crew awaited. The black-scaled beast walked to the open spot where the group was expected to gather, hunched down to lower its height as it watched the world around it. The ocean stretched on, seemingly forever, so there was nowhere to go.

The Captain introduced himself, then arrogantly turned away, leaving this Mr. Plug shouting orders. As the group hesitantly moved forward, the lizard-man moved to follow those who moved with purpose.

He heard mid-ship ... so middle ship it is!

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: None

[3SecondCultist]

In the aftermath of Lodan's opening his mouth to speak up to Plugg, silence reigns on the deck. Since Harrigan is gone, all eyes are on the first mate, to see how he reacts. Plugg reaches for the cat... and stops. "Master Scourge!" The man with the whip who woke you up in the hold moves forward from behind your ranks about the mainmast. "Please remind Tanner here what happens to those who don't know their place." All but happy to obey, Scourge winds up his right arm to give Lodan a lash from behind. However, he manages to miss the rogue entirely, as Lodan dodges the unexpected attack out of of pure reflex.

For the second time in minutes, everyone is quiet. No one dares offend the ship's bosun at this time, especially as Scourge is armed and glowering in obvious frustration at his mistake. Once more, Plugg breaks the silence. "Come now, Master Scourge. You'd think you'd be able to hit a stationary target! Or have you gone soft on us?" His words are echoed by a chorus of snickering from the rest of the riggers. Scourge's second strike hits home, tearing at Lodan's clothing and leaving a long, bloody welt across his back. But worst of all, Plugg's eyes never leave Lodan's, and his mouth is twisted into a cold smile. They both know what's just happened.

"Now that that's over with," the first mate continues as he addresses the eight of you, "it's time to see what you're made of! First things first, the Wormwood is in need of a new rigger! See the top of the mainmast up there?" He points to the tallest portion of the ship, the rope and sails beyond the crow's nest. It's about sixty feet straight up from where you're all standing. "The first person who makes it to the top joins the rigging team! The rest of you, report back to me... if you don't fall to your deaths first."

Okay, so here's how this works. As per the climbing rules (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/skills/climb), you all need to make DC 10 checks to advance up a quarter of your speed in the rigging. For most of you, that means 7.5 ft, so you'll need to make eight separate checks as a part of eight separate move actions. To save time, I'm going to ask that you roll all of these checks at once (in the OOC thread, please). You can - and should - take double move actions to advance up to 15 ft in one round.

Failure by 4 or less means that you don't advance, so must try again the next action (I'd roll a set of eight to twelve, just to be sure). Failure by 5 or more means that you fall from your current height (which I will calculate). You may also try to accelerate your climb by taking a -5 penalty on your check, with a successful check doubling your vertical speed for the move action in question. If two of you reach the top in the same round, the person with the highest roll wins. If it's a tie, I'll have two of you join the riggers.

Any of you may also deliberately try to fail the test. Doing so requires a Bluff roll, opposed by Plugg's Sense Motive. Failure means you will most likely be whipped by Scourge.

[WalkingTheShade]

The reluctant pirate

For an instant, it seems like cringing reflexively from Scourge, thus avoiding his whip, would provoke an even worse retribution. Lodan welcomes the second lash with relief, only turning to protect his face from it, making sure to be hit. No sense in provoking them more than this. The sting on his back is payment enough, for now.

At Pugg's orders, Lodan mutters a subsumed "yes sir" before moving towards the mast. He slowly raises his eyes to the top, swallowing what little spit he has left. He looks towards his companions of misfortune, then back to the mast, then back towards Pugg, then back to the mast. All the while, a progressively more desperate expression twists his features. Lodan grabs whatever he can, to slowly and surely start his ascent, making sure to give a little cry of pain as he does so.

After a moderately fast start, Lodan lowers the pace, panting, trying to look wounded and winded.

In order. I will first make a climb roll to have Lodan genuinly climb the first part, in a show of good faith. Then I'll roll bluff to have him pretend he's not up to the task, acting weakened by the lash.
Climb: [roll0].
Bluff: [roll1]. Do I get a cirmcumstance bonus to my bluff roll, since Lodan is already wounded?

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Tanner's venture had gone about as well as Petaba had expected, it seemed. In fact, it may have gone even worse, if Plugg's expression was any indication Tanner had made himself an enemy, one with the power to rain misery down at-will. It was looking like the human might be a dangerous person to know.

The command to climb turns Petaba's attention upwards. The last thing he had climbed of any comparable height was a tree in the Mwangi Expanse, in an attempt to escape an angry rhino. That tree, however, hadn't been on the middle of a swaying ship, being blasted by wind and salt spray.

Oddly enough though, it didn't seem too difficult. It was much easier to get up the rope ladders than branches. Petaba gets stuck halfway up, but quickly spies an alternate path It was an interesting challenge, a game to solve. However, Petaba notices he is actually climbing much too fast. If he got the top, he'd be on the rigging team, and that could only mean being up here every day. As he nears the top, he slows, pretending to hold tightly to the shaking lines.

He looks down though, and sees a furious Plugg, gripping the cat tightly. Petaba knows for certain what awaits him on deck. Hoping to avoid maybe a lash or two, he restarts his climb in earnest . . . only to find that he is actually stuck! The rough hemp of the ropes is cutting into his hands, and the salt grinding into the wounds inflames them.

Bluff: [roll0]

[Farmerbink]

Catrina pointedly doesn't react to the lashings- Don't draw the wrong attention. Don't draw the wrong attention. DON'T draw the wrong attention! If she possessed the ability, her gaze would be boring holes in the wooden deck.

"The first person who makes it to the top joins the rigging team! The rest of you, report back to me... if you don't fall to your deaths first."Catrina suddenly jerks her neck back, her eyes upward. The sudden movement triggers a blinding burst of pain as the blood struggles to keep up in her quasi-inebriated state. That's not so high- the underside of the docks were slicker, too, I bet. Seeing her first chance to shine, the athletic young woman dashes towards the nearest secured strand of rigging.

In her haste and stupor, she miss-places her foot. Twice! Damn it! Finally, just as the fairly-muscled Half-Orc gets his boots over Catrina's head, does she plant her foot in the rung properly. A striking grin splits her features, and she bolts up the net with astonishing speed- rapidly making up for the lost time.

It isn't long at all before she's caught or passed the other climbers. Now she just has to stay ahead....

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred wastes no time starting to climb, but does not climb as quickly as the others. Instead he reaches out and grabs at arms, legs, and anything else he can to hinder and slow down the other climbers, with the exception of Catrina (who he ignores). He makes no effort to hide his actions, instead grinning and laughing as he goes about throwing arm and shoulder into the other climbers.

Given his efforts, he doesn't get very high before falling back, but makes quite the scene about the rope ladders...

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh wastes no time in rushing to the bottom of the rigging. Once there, she takes a moment to look at the ropes, comically oversized by comparison to her small frame. She begins shimmying up the first section of net, making a great and exaggerated (but hopefully also convincing) show of attempting to get to the first rung. She only partly has to act; it honestly is a hard climb for such a short person.

I probably wouldn't make a good rigger anyways. Though, it does look like that friendly lady is doing pretty well...

[n0ble]

Kana begins to scale her way upwards to the rigging, paying little heed to those around her. Her fingers are able to find little nooks and crannies, a symptom of her time aboard the Eclipse if ever there had been one. All in all she comported herself quite well as she tried to scurry her way to the top, despite the red-haired man's attempts to pull her back down to the others. A**hole. The anger gives her enough strength to keep climbing past his childish attempts to stop her.

And thats when the blackscale shoots past her. Faster than her, or any of the others. Any anger she felt towards the man trying to grab her dissipates into sadness and frustration. The air around her gets a little bit more crisp and cleaner to breath as minute sparks dance across her skin in answer to the frustration. A little less salty. Ozone. It would have been quite the view from up there. All blue like and away from everyone.

Still she keeps climbing. If anything getting to the top second will show the vile man with the whip that she's useful.

[St.Just]

Seeing how speaking out was taken, Variel swallowed his words and just waited for instructions, looking at the ground and trying to not to attract any whip-bringing attention.

As they're all directed to climb the rigging, the lanky elf looks up and swallows nervously. Frankly, he had more than enough trouble keeping his balance on the ship's deck, let alone a few stories up in a mess of rigging.

Waiting a moment to see how everyone else was moving, he reached up to grab a hold of low-hanging ropes, attempting to drag himself off the ground and extending his leg out...for a rope far too high for him to reach without pulling something, sending him tumbling awkwardly to the ground.

Getting up quickly, nervously looking behind him at the assembled pirates for a bit of motivation, Variel tried again, more carefully now, making small upward movements, getting several feet off the ground...then missing a mildly ambitious reach, and falling heavily on his back.

Breathing heavily as he dragged himself off the ground a second time, Variel more or less threw himself at the ropes, frantically climbing to try and catch up, or at least not embarrass himself enough to warrant some special punishment. Muttering curses in Draconic, Cyclops and several more archaic languages as his muscles burned from the exertion, the scrawny scholar actually pulled himself nearly 30 feet into the air. At which point he missed a handhold as the ship bobbed over a mildly large wave, the motion sending him falling freely away from the rigging with a startled scream.

With a bit of luck, he managed to avoid falling off the ship entirely, and while he landed heavily, nothing was broken or seriously bruised. In a heap near the edge of the deck, he groaned loudly I'll just be here for a bit. Someone else can get the rigging job.

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

The black-scaled beast stared as the long-haired man ordered the shorter human male who spoke to be beaten. It watched with half-lidded eyes as the skinny man missed with the first swing, but drew blood with the second. It felt no pity for the small human - but it did wonder at the seeming weakness in the skinny man. It's eyes turned back to stare at the long-hair, who pointed to the top of the tall roped tree and issued a challenge.

Turning to look at the branchless tree, the lizard eyed it for a moment, then swiftly made its way up to the top. The ropes made it simple to climb, letting the creature reach out long arms to pull itself up rapidly. In seconds, it hung from the top of the 'mainmast.'

Peering down, it watched the others climb, eyes narrowing at the red-haired man who grabbed at the others ... and the small blue ... monkey?

Up, up up! And he doesn't even know what he just did this for!

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: None

[3SecondCultist]

As the eight of you heave, swing, and scramble your way up the Wormwood's maze of rigging at various speeds - and fall at the same - the crowd of crew at your feet grows. The existing rigger team is out of your way, but several of the other swabs stop what they're doing to watch the proceedings. Both Plugg and Scourge are at the front of the throng; the former is possessed of a cold hostility, demanding the crews return to work and ordering his bosun to whip both Lodan and Petaba when they return to the deck. The bosun seems to relish the task which he's been given, as he sneers openly at Lodan and wrings the whip handle in his hands in obvious anticipation of what's to come. Only Thysh gets away completely unscathed, as her apparently failures are believed by the ship's officers.

The rest of your impressed party of eight are genuine in their attempts to summit the mainmast. Three contestants in particular stand out: Catrina is the quickest to start the climb, her vibrant red hair blowing in the salt breeze. Kana is not far behind her and eventually even passes her, the druid's natural strength at grasping objects helping her ascent. But it is Hiss, unexpectedly, who takes the prize, black scaled form curling around the top of the mast in triumph. The only other sights worth seeing are Jarred's attempts to knock over or tackle those trying to gain on Catrina - such as Kana or Hiss - and Variel's spectacular cat-like recovery from a fall that might have seriously hurt him. One of the crew shouts out "Well done, Blackscale!" as Hiss comes out of the contest the victor.

By the time all eight of you have descended back to the deck again, the punishments have been administered, and both the small man bleeds into the planks around the base of the mast. Petaba, unfortunately, did not withstand the terrible blow inflicted upon him by the bosun, and lies supine on the deck. Scourge looks incredibly pleased with his work, but neglects to speak. This is still Plugg's show for now. "You'll report directly to me, sailor," he says to Hiss. If he's at all afraid of the nagaji barbarian, the first mate has yet to display it. "Welcome to the rigger crew. As for the rest of you... that was nothing short of shameful. But I suppose it doesn't matter, since you'll all be serving Master Scourge as swabs for the rest of your short, miserable lives." He pauses once. "Although now that I think of it... I suppose Fishguts might be in need of a cook's mate. Can any of you cook?"

Okay, so we already know that Hiss is the winner for the climbing contest, since he managed to finish at the top of Round 3 (so sixty feet in less than eighteen seconds). I'm also rolling for the whipping of Lodan and Petaba. Even though I'm assuming they just take the attacks, Scourge can still crit, so I'm rolling attacks. Just assume he tries until he hits once, otherwise.

Whip (vs. Lodan): [roll0] for [roll1] nonlethal damage (crit confirm: [roll2])

Whip (vs. Petaba): [roll3] for [roll4] nonlethal damage (crit confirm: [roll5])

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh raises her hand to indicate her willingness to give the role a try. She may not be the world's best cook, or even a half-decent one, but she is willing to learn, and willing to bet the job will be easier than general swabbery.

"I can do a bit of basic cooking, sir. And I'm a quick learner."

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

Climbing down, the lizard-man simple stood silently, watching the beatings administered to a few of the new recruits. He gazed at the long hair, who spoke to him, then stood there, unmoving.

Hanging out ...

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: None

[St.Just]

Variel stood up as the others descended from the rigging, dusting himself off lightly and testing his arm for any serious damage. Thankfully, nothing sprained or broken and apparently no enemies made. He wasn't quite sure why his failure hadn't deserved any punishment, but wasn't go to draw attention to the fact.

When he saw the whip strike Peteba's back and the burly half-orc crumple to the ground, the disheveled elf quickly made his way over to his comatose form. A quick look confirmed that he was definitely still breathing-mildly disappointing on one level, but then there was almost certainly going to be more than a fair share of death around him in the near future.

Turning to the still standing victim of the lash, Variel's long face took on an expression of concern as he asked Lodan in his heavily accented common You alright there? That didn't look like an easy hit.

In response to Plugg's question he inwardly shrugged. He'd been a swab-if on a more respectable sort of ship than this-, and seen what got eaten on long voyages. Neither was great work, but he'd take the job that would involve less interaction with the Bosun if he could. Stepping forward he answered I've been on a few ships, more or less know my way around a kitchen.

[WalkingTheShade]

The whipping target

At the sight of the whip, Lodan gives a pathetic resigned cry, presenting his back again. The pain of the lash forces him to kneel. Then, he sees Petaba being whipped. Lodan reflects he's lucky not to be in Petaba's shoes; Scourge is getting more and more heavy-handed. As he stands up, his head feeling strangely light, he realizes an elf is addressing him. "Ah, thanks, friend, I think I'll manage. What's your name?" Lodan walks a few step then crouches down to look over Petaba's wounds. At the same time, he slips a hand in his boot, pretending to scratch his shin, to figure out what's hidden there. Ah, well, it's definitely not a dagger.

Lodan speaks to the elf, yet loud enough for Scourge and Pugg to hear. "Captain said no killing, right? This gash is deep, it might rot if I don't get it clean and sewed up soon."

So if I understood well, Lodan took 4 non-lethal earlier from the lash + 4 now = 8. He has 8 hp, so he is staggered.
Had to edit that post, since at first I thought Lodan had passed out.
I rolled 18 OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20875493&postcount=42) on a bluff or diplomacy check (DM call, Lodan has the same modifier anyway) to convince Pugg that Petaba needs healing. Preferably peformed by Lodan.

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba raises a hand from where he lays on the deck, heavily gasping for air. "Aye sir, I'm actually a fine hand at cooking. I've prapared meals in everything from a village campfire to an inn in Bloodcove. And I've got some spices with me that'll prove it. Got them straight from a merchant of repute." He lapses into unconsciousness.

[3SecondCultist]

Staring down balefully at the drama unfurling at his feet, Plugg puts up a hand to stop both Thysh and Variel from speaking any further. He locks eyes with Lodan a second time in evident annoyance, clearly considering leaving the half-orc lying there to bleed out or die of sunstroke. Eventually, the first mate lets out a grunt of assent, before continuing down the line.

"Between the two of you," Plugg says while looking the gaunt elf and lean gnome up and down, "you might make one cook's mate. I've half a mind to send you both to Kroop, see if he can't do something to whip you into shape. Before I do, is there anybody else who wants this post?"

[n0ble]

Kana watched with a pained look as the two men were whipped. The lash Scourge was using looked...painful. And conjured up too many bad memories for Kana to linger on the thought long. Still, the elf helping at least one of them was something to pay attention to. Even if she didn't like the thought, Kana knew she wouldn't last much longer here on her own. She made a mental note to heal the man next time he was lashed. It seemed as though Scourge has taken a liking to it.

As the thought of reaching out to someone on the vessel crossed her mind, Plugg made his little pronouncement and crossed in front of her. Having to deal with one man? Food to eat and stay strong when no one was looking? Not having to be a swab again? All three questions coalesced into a very simple answer "Aye. I do."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred watches and listens, his face an unreadable mask. At the first mate's repetition of his question he shakes his head slowly and deliberately before looking at his sister from the corner of his eye. If Catrina is on deck with me then we can help watch the other's back. It is probably best if we both stick together...I hope she realizes that too...

[St.Just]

Variel

The elf extends his hand to Lodan to help him stand. Bowing his head slightly, he replies "Variel Iydaela, at your service. And yours?"

[WalkingTheShade]

A new friend and one in need


"Variel Iydaela, at your service. And yours?"
"Lodan F. Tanner. Everyone calls me Tanner, just Tanner."


Eventually, the first mate lets out a grunt of assent, before continuing down the line.
Lodan gets a bundle of raw leather out of his boot, as if there was nothing unusual about it. He spreads it on the deck, revealing little bags of dried herbs, some thread, a needle and bandages.

"Iydaela, would you have the amiability to hold down master Fane here," says Lodan, pointing to the unconscious half-orc, "in case he wakes up as I'm sewing him up?" Lodan takes a second look at Variel. "In hindsight, forget that." Lodan yells to the assembled crew and press gang: "anyone wants to help by holding him down while I sew him up? Remember any of you might need sewing some day. A little booze to clean the wound would be welcome too."

Rolled 20 OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20876111&postcount=43) on a diplomacy to get someone to help.

[Farmerbink]

Catrina can only look on in dismay as the black-scaled "man" scurries up the riggings with unnerving speed and poise. Her frustration and discouragement coalesce into something more closely resembling hostility as she looks on the whippings with an expression blending confusion and apathy. At least it's not me... She stares daggers at the barbarian, for showing her up with such ease.

When Plugg asks for volunteers, Catrina is conspicuously silent. She doesn't ignore the first mate, per say, but her pointed and attentive lack of a response speaks volumes about her lack of interest. When the first mate's caustic gaze passes over her, she offers a slight pout and a shrug, as if to say "if you really think I'm best for it," but doesn't dare speak out of turn.

For just a moment, she turns an incredulous expression on the man called "Tanner." That mouth is gonna get him killed, at this rate....

[WalkingTheShade]

Not a very good healer

Not getting any answer, Lodan picks needle and thread and starts suturing the worse of Petaba's open wounds. Yet, his nervousness doesn't help him. His hands are even more shaky than before. Sweat is dribbling from his face. Sun or fever? He feels like he's going to pass out too. After a few minutes, he realizes he hasn't even managed to sew up a quarter of the wound.

Heal, [roll0].

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

The creature stood watching silently, not moving to help the lashed man initially - perhaps it didn't know what the small human wanted; maybe it didn't care. But after a moment, it stepped forward and placed a giant foot on the half-orc's chest, holding him down as requested.

Glancing up, the lizard caught sight of one of the human women staring. It gazed back for a moment, sensing the woman's gaze was anything but friendly. It stared, eyes unblinking.

Perhaps the female wished to challenge the scaled one ...

Ah yes, winning friends and such. I figured that might be an issue :smallsmile:

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: None

[DarkOne-Rob]

"...anyone wants to help by holding him down while I sew him up? Remember any of you might need sewing some day.

Not a very good healer
Jarred watches as Tanner starts to work on the injured crew member and says, loudly enough for all to hear, "Should he begin working on me like that, I hope someone will shank him before he gets too far. Is this your first time, man? You're hurting more than helping!" Wearing a cruel grin, he doesn't move to help, instead watching the crew for how they react to his words...

Use a social skill to make a joke at Tanner's expense (all three skills are at the same bonus) - [roll0]
Sense motive to recognize the crew members' reaction [roll1]

[n0ble]

Kana sighed as Plugged passed her. Whether as a result of the Plugg seemingly disregarding her for cook, the red-haired man's bleating or the abyssal sewing job nothing seemed to be going particularly well. She departs from the line, moreso out of a sense of resignation than anything else. She walked over in a suitably dour manner to the prone half-orc and man trying to help him before wordlessly kneeling down to help.Should this man ever stoop to help such an insulting individual as yourself, I doubt you would live to see it, bleating fool. Besides. F!ck this Plugg man. A person need only pretend work for him when they can build a better relationship with those willing to aid them. Should the time come.

At the very least, helping the half-orc would provide another back to take the lash in her stead. Yet for all her drive to help she does little better than the whipped-man before her. Maybe its the anger at the general situation or just the fact that she can't get Kaya's face out of her head. Either way, she does scarcely more than the man who called himself Loden. The wispy elf and blackscale helped hold the man down, which was also a plus in and of itself. Fully one half of the new recruits if she counted correctly. More if they could resuscitate the half-orc.

Despite failing at the task at hand Kana smiled inwardly, waiting for the red-haird man's next bout of posturing.


Got an 8/15 on the healing roll so no dice there, but yay friendship right? Right? :smallbiggrin:

[WalkingTheShade]

More friends

Lodan is surprised by a huge scaled foot suddenly appearing on top of his needlework. He'd cringe away and climb to the top of mainmast, if it weren't for some deep fatigue pervading his bones and keeping him dull. Lodan stops, needle in hand, as he blinks at the leg. It alimost feels like being drunk. He slowly raises his head towards the draconic face at the other end. Lodan opens his mouth with intent to speak, says nothing, closes it and then just nods. Slow shock helps him steady his hands.

Then, the red haired d!ck starts being a d!ck again. Lodan should just ignore him. Just ignore him. Keep your trap shut. Ignore him. "Say, friend, at least I had a first time. On account of look, smell and character, I can't imagine a blind back alley harlot plying her trade on you. See, I feel for you, reduced to take every occasion to grop any helpless woman around, either unconscious or climbing a rigging," replies Lodan, deadpan, not taking his eyes or hands away from the sewing. A smart move; now Lodan is a d!ck too.

And then, a woman comes in to help. Lodan wasn't expecting so much success. He raises his eyes to look again. In his blurrier-by-the-minute vision, she looks far better now that she's close-up. Lodan wonders why he hadn't noticed that. Lodan gives her needle and thread. "My hands are too shaky. I'll press here, and you sew there, right?"

The DM said I shouldn't post so soon, but I wanted an occasion to react before the story is pushed forward. With Kana's help, her and Lodan should reach a total of 16 by using Aid another and taking 10. (Both have a base of 4 + 2 aid + take 10 = 16.) Lodan will continue doing this silently, ignoring any more provocations.

[3SecondCultist]

By the time Lodan, Kana, and Hiss all do their parts and Petaba sputters back to consciousness back on the deck, Plugg has made up his mind. "You then," he says as he points to the druid. "You'll do. Report to the galley. I hope for your sake that he chose to sober up today." The words are uttered not as well-wishing, but a thinly veiled threat. Resting one hand on the hilt of his ornate cutlass, Plugg points at the six remaining crew members who have yet to be assigned duties. "The rest of you! You'll be swabs, reporting directly to Master Scourge here. Whatever he says goes, and you'd best believe any slackers or dissidents will get the whip... and maybe even the cat, if they're so lucky."

As each of you split off into your various groups, Plugg meets Catrina's gaze. Evidently, her silence did not go undetected, and something about it has raised the man's suspicions in some way. His eyes narrow, and face twists into a scowl as he leads Hiss away in order to order the nagaji to begin his day shift with the riggers.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Say, friend, at least I had a first time. On account of look, smell and character, I can't imagine a blind back alley harlot plying her trade on you. See, I feel for you, reduced to take every occasion to grop any helpless woman around, either unconscious or climbing a rigging,"
Jarred smirks and barks out a laugh. "Someone has thin skin - not like anyone here cares..." he chortles callously.


...Plugg meets Catrina's gaze. Evidently, her silence did not go undetected, and something about it has raised the man's suspicions in some way. His eyes narrow, and face twists into a scowl...
As they each fall into their work on deck, Jarred mutters to Catrina, "Watch yourself. The first mate gave you an unfriendly look, and I don't fancy fighting him yet." He then throws himself into his assigned task while subtly looking around the ship's decks.

Without knowing our specific assignments and/or what skill/ability checks you need I cannot do more than say that I intend to have Jarred sneak a look about the ship and perform the check with no penalty.

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba surges back into consciousness with a gasp. His back was still a fiery line of pain, but at least it didn't seem to be bleeding anymore. He noted with no small annoyance that the pain seemed to cut through the intricate ritual scarring on his back. It looked like Tanner had sewn him up, judging by the bloody hands and needle. There was a foot on his chest, that of the black-scaled lizardman, but nobody seemed to be upset by it, so it stood to reason that the creature was trying to help. A tanned and weathered human woman also seemed to be assisting. Guess these are the friendly sorts, or at least kind enough to help a man in obvious need.

On the other hand, Tanner's look of disgust at the red-haired man indicated some sort of enmity. Perhaps something had transpired while Petaba had been out. He'd certainly be one to look out for.

Petaba gives a weak smile at those who had rendered aid, and squirms out from below the clawed foot atop him. "Thank you very much. I've never quite felt a lashing like that. I think I'll be fine though." He sits up, and gives a quick chant of healing, fingers wiggling across his back. The wound begins to close up.

As the pain fades a bit, Petaba gets to his feet, looking at Scourge. He says with a deferential tone, "I've learned a good lesson, and you'll get no slacking. What are we about?"

His thoughts though, are a wholly different matter. Cruelty for its own sake. You and Plugg are vile sorts. And you can't even choose a proper cook. You'll be getting yours.

Cure Light Wounds: [roll0]

[Farmerbink]

"Watch yourself. The first mate gave you an unfriendly look, and I don't fancy fighting him yet."Catrina smirks and gives out a short, mirthless chuckle. "I'd have gone to the cook if he told me to, and he knows it. Bastard didn't give out any friendly looks, anyway.... I don't think he wants that kind of test- he just wants obedience. I'll give him that." She turns to look into her brothers eyes. "You're as good at making friends as ever," she mutters, with a raised eyebrow and her first honest laugh.

She nods crisply as Plugg declares the remainders swabs. Figures. Bastard of a lizard took the only decent job...

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh turns to the others, as soon as she judges it relatively safe to do so. She hurries over to the injured half-orc and his erstwhile healers, a look of genuine apology on her face.

"I'm so sorry for not speaking up earlier, but I'm actually a bit of a healer. I didn't want to say anything while there was a chance of my getting a better job, and while whasisname was watching us, but if you'd like, I may be able to help."

She takes a look around the semi-circle of people standing around Petaba, taking in each face in turn.

"I guess I should introduce myself, seeing as we're likely to be working together for a while. I'm Thysh." She pronounces the 'y' like the word 'eye'. "Pleased to meet you, circumstances notwithstanding."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Petaba
He sits up, and gives a quick chant of healing, fingers wiggling across his back. The wound begins to close up.
"Hmmm, that one can invoke divine power..."

Spellcraft [roll0] vs DC 16 to identify the spell cast

Thysh
"I'm so sorry for not speaking up earlier, but I'm actually a bit of a healer. I didn't want to say anything while there was a chance of my getting a better job, and while whasisname was watching us, but if you'd like, I may be able to help."
"...and that one claims to be a healer..."

Perception [roll1] vs DC 0-5 (?) to hear the conversation

"You're as good at making friends as ever,"
Turning to his sister Jarred replies, not bothering to lower his voice, "Why should I make friends with a mouthy, thin-skinned faker? Now those two that might be able to heal, they could be worth courting as allies. In the meanwhile we should keep both our backs free of the lash and strong enough to defend ourselves. If the rest keep mouthing off we won't have to worry about them anyway..."

A thought seems to cross his mind as he turns to start working. "We'll see if they toughen up - maybe they will be worth the time then."

[n0ble]

"You are doing fine, see?" Given the job they did of mangling the half-orc's back, it does Kana good to see him rear up. Another ally perhaps. She stares down at the little one, her face devoid of expression for a brief moment as she processes the strange new name. Still, the druid allows herself a small, if tightly controlled, smile. "My name is Kana. Pleased to meet you... Th-eye-sh? The-eye-ish?" she stops glumly "I apologize. My tongue is not used to such words." With that she was just about ready to head off to wherever the kitchen maybe when she hears the Red-hair speak up again.

It's enough to cause Kana to halt briefly and place a hand on Loden's shoulder. She jerked her head vaguely in his direction before shaking it. "Not worth it. Don't bother." Weaker people often had more to say in her experience. Coal-Dark certainly had a lot to say and he was weak to any number of vices. Still, perhaps some sort of laxative in the Red-hair's food would sort him out. If it really came to she could heal someone as well. Perhaps not as well as the other two, given that she barely understood the power inside her, but she'd done once before after stepping on fire coral.

Time to meet this Fishgut's man. With any luck his breath smells better than Plug. Though with a name like that...

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

As the lizard stood with one foot holding the halforc down, its eyes swept back and forth between the various recruits. Snide comments ... offers of help ... quiet whispers ... it listened and watched. Once the long-hair directed one of the females to the food chambers and others as 'swab-bees' he waved to the lizard to follow. With a final glance at the others, the scaled monstrosity turned and followed.

Firat day or two, Hiss will be diligent - learning this stuff may take a bit and he'd refer not to be overt whipped!

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: None

[WalkingTheShade]

Jarred smirks and barks out a laugh. "Someone has thin skin - not like anyone here cares..." he chortles callously.
"Well, at least, I got one person to laugh today," answers Lodan, with a smile of his own, this time making eye contact.


"Thank you very much. I've never quite felt a lashing like that. I think I'll be fine though." He sits up, and gives a quick chant of healing, fingers wiggling across his back. The wound begins to close up.
Lodan looks at that with much disapointment. "Well, I see it was worth the effort. Far more efficient than sewing," he grumbles.


"I'm Thysh." She pronounces the 'y' like the word 'eye'. "Pleased to meet you, circumstances notwithstanding."
"Tanner, the same."


"Why should I make friends with a mouthy, thin-skinned faker?"


It's enough to cause Kana to halt briefly and place a hand on Loden's shoulder. She jerked her head vaguely in his direction before shaking it. "Not worth it. Don't bother."
Lodan is about to open his mouth, then thinks better of it. Instead, he gets up, and follows anyone reporting to Scourge, silently acknowledging orders with a nod.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh nods to each of the others who introduce themselves in turn. As they move off following Scourge, she keeps pace with the group, keeping an ear on the conversation.

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

The half-orc grins at Tanner's grumbles. "Maybe, but I have to be awake to do that!" In reply to the blue gnome, Thysh apparently, and the tanned woman calling herself Kana, Petaba says "Petaba Fane, excellent talespinner and terrible whipping post."

[3SecondCultist]

Work on the Wormwood (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fm4JR7_9Ei0)

The Swab Crew - Catrina, Jarred, Lodan, Petaba, Thysh, Variel

"Come on now, ye bilge rats!" Scourge's voice is deep but scratchy, with no real power in it. His whip still in hand, he quickly splits you up further. "Ye two," he says indicating the redhead and the gnome as he roughly pushes them away from the other four. "Red and Blue, ye'll be working up top with the riggers on the sails. We got us some repairs need working on! Ye'll know what's what, if ye've got half a brain about ye."

He then points to both Variel and Petaba, scratching his chin idly as he ponders what task to give the two of them. Eventually, he pulls them apart, staring down the arcanist first. "Ears, ye'll be belowdecks. There've been rat sightings since afore we made port, so it be yer job to catch'em. And ye," he points towards the half-orc, "we'll see if ye've got the strength to swab the decks, won't we? I trust ye'll be up to the challenge; yer back can certainly take the punishment!" Scourge lets out a bark of laughter at his own joke.

That leaves only two swabs left for him to assign work: Jarred and Lodan. "And as for the pair of ye, methinks you can be me new runners. For now, go find Bansion or Jakes, tell'em ye'll be at their... disposal." The bosun's grin widens as he leers at Lodan, his gold tooth glinting in the daylight. "Plugg's entrusted all of ye to me, and by me best reckoning, this be the best course for the Wormwood."


The Rigger - Hiss

"You'll be doing rope work today," Plugg says as he guides you away from the others. "You know what I mean by that, I take it? Nod if you understand me." He points at a few coils of rope about the main deck, then to the various cleats and pieces of rigging that make up the support for the Wormwood's central mast. "There, just do what Conchobar's doing. He'll set you straight, or thereabouts." Without another word, Plugg turns to head up the stairs to stand at the ship's helm and survey the work of the crew above - although you don't doubt that his eyes will be on you today.

Although you can see there are a few other of the riggers at work in the sails, there are two sailors at work near you. Neither look the friendly sort: the first is the scarred dwarf who accompanied Scourge below, and the second is gnome who wears a foppish purple hat, an eye patch, and a white silk shirt covered in sweat stains. Resting against one of the ship's gunwales is a dandyish cane, which you can presume to be his. Although it takes him a minute, the gnome cries, "Hey scaly man, give me a hand with this!"


The Cook's Mate - Kana

As everyone else leaves with either Plugg or Scourge, you find yourself adrift on the main deck. A few of the riggers, when asked, give you directions to the galley on the second deck, telling you that's where you can find the ship's cook. Most of them laugh when they ask why you're looking for him. "Good luck," a younger sailor says as you turn to head back down belowdecks. "Kroop's a tweaked one, he is." The man's voice has no malice in it, but he doesn't seem inclined to help you or explain himself further.

Following the vague directions you've been given, you eventually make your way through the hold - passing a large sleeping man chained around the main mast - and through the aft doors into what can only be the Wormwood's galley. Several bubbling cauldrons take up the space of the room, as well as a spit, some spice racks, and quite a few bottles of rum. In fact, the whole place smells very much like a still. The room's sole occupant sits on a swaying chair near the back, half-shadowed by a solitary lantern. "And who're ye supposed to be?" His voice sounds like sand being scraped off glass.

Standing to his full height, you see Fishguts Kroop in all of his 'glory': a very obese man wearing a greasy apron, the man wears a three day stubble. His eyes are red and unfocused, although it's anyone's guess whether that's due to lack of sleep or inebriation. "Come on then, don't be shy," Kroops says. "What'd they send a swab down here for?"

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Teeth grind in a clenched jaw. Laugh it up. I'll feed that whip to you one day. Petaba relaxes enough to say "Swabbing, understood." He nods at the only people on the ship who don't seem bear him either ill-will or casual indifference, and walks off to find the appropriate tools.

Petaba had some understanding of how to swab a deck. He'd never been on a ship as large as this one, but he'd heard enough stories to understand the gist of the task. Mop the deck, sand it down where necessary, apply turpentine and linseed oil occasionally, and generally keep everything neat and tidy. It was a simple enough job.

It doesn't take much effort to find a bucket filled with suspicious-looking water, a ragged mop, a bottle of turpentine and a rag, and a ground-down chunk of holystone. Petaba lugs the load to the bow, and sets to work. It soon becomes clear that the chore is much more grueling than he had anticipated. Push the mop, sand the deck, apply a coating of turpentine, go get more water. The turpentine stung his eyes and throat, the weight of the bucket and repetitive motion of the mop set his shoulders to aching, and even a judicious application of a mending cantrip didn't improve the speed at which he could grind out splinters and smooth the deck.

It takes him nearly an hour before he finally remembers the purpose of a sea shanty. If the work was pure drudgery, and it required taking one's mind off the actual task in order to get it done, one may as well sing to pass the time and give rhythm to the work. He sings (http://brethrencoast.com/shanty/Worst_Old_Ship.html) with a rumbling baritone spilling across the deck:


The worst old brig that ever did weigh
Sailed out of Almas on a windy day

And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay.

She was built in Azlant time
Held together with bits of twine

Perform (Song):[roll0]

[Farmerbink]

For just a moment, a flicker of uncertainty passes before Catrina's eyes. She nods at Scourge. "Aye." Without another word, she heads towards the top deck, and looks for torn sails to mend, and frayed ropes to splice.

Up on deck, she immediately notices a younger man- more a boy, really- joking about as he mends a corner of a sail much to big for him to manage by himself. "Oy, boy. Scourge seems to think there's enough ripped sails for at least three of us," she gestures to include the Gnome as she arrives- her shorter legs carrying her more slowly to the task. "Where do they-" before she finishes the question, she notices the markings on the barrel the boy's leaning against. "I see, never mind." She walks over, and leans into the barrel, retrieving a pair of mending kits. She tosses one to the blue-haired Gnome and begins picking along the sail, looking for a spot needing patchwork.

"So..." she begins, carefully testing the weight of each word. "It was 'Thysh,' right? Can't much say I'm happy to meet anyone like this, but you can call me Cat. Figures we'll be here a while...." She converses amicably enough, more out of a desire to pass the time than make new friends, but the latter proves unavoidable, simply because the Gnome is so pleasant to be around.

After a while, she looks up at the boy, now focused whole-heartedly on his task. She smirks. "Hey! boy! I know you heard me introducing myself to Thysh, here. That means you know both our names, and neither of of know yours. I'll have my mother turn you into a newt if you don't get to fixing that real quick! She's a sea hag, you know, so you don't want to make her- or me- angry!"

I figure since I'm using bluff to influence him, it will be a combination of tall tales and outlandish stories of Catrina's other-worldly "mother" and such to keep him off his toes, and hopefully get a laugh or two.

[n0ble]

Kana eyes the rather large man with temporary, wide-eyed alarm. Ye-gods, is he drunk? A tweaked one indeed it would seem. "I-My name is Kana, Plugg sent me down to be your cooks mate. I take it yer the Fishgut's Kroup everyone's told me to come an' see?" Between Fishgut's considerable girth, the majority of the room being taken up by pots and the new and unfamiliar sounds, Kana finds herself on edge once again. What have I gotten myself into? Seems to just be an even smaller prison with an even smellier man. There isn't ever a porthole to look at the ocean. F!ck.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Well, at least, I got one person to laugh today," answers Lodan, with a smile of his own, this time making eye contact.
With this Lodan earns an ambiguous wink from Jarred - neither friendly nor cruel.


The bosun's grin widens as he leers at Lodan, his gold tooth glinting in the daylight. "Plugg's entrusted all of ye to me, and by me best reckoning, this be the best course for the Wormwood."
As they turn to begin working Jarred mutters to Lodan, "Take heed. He will kill you - captain's orders or not - if he pleases. You may have no love lost for me, but you should watch yourself around him. He cares less for your talk than I do..." He then darts into the hold of the ship, looking everywhere for one of the two men they were assigned.

Sneaking, as noted earlier:

Acrobatics [roll0] vs DC 10 or fail to be an effective runner (?)
Constitution [roll1] vs DC 10 or become fatigued

Perception [roll2] to briefly explore one area of the ship. Can I apply this to get a general layout of the ship (how many decks, rough idea of the number of compartments, ladder-wells, etc...)?
As he runs about on deck Jarred overhears Petaba's song and bawdily sings on the refrain once, genuinely trying, but singing loudly...

How about an Aid Another check? I won't be able to do this much once we start dividing up loot...

Perform (Sing) [roll3] (untrained)
As the afternoon ends, the red-haired man is obviously winded, his muscled frame not meant for such agile work.

[WalkingTheShade]

The happy shirker


"Take heed. He will kill you - captain's orders or not - if he pleases. You may have no love lost for me, but you should watch yourself around him. He cares less for your talk than I do..." He then darts into the hold of the ship, looking everywhere for one of the two men they were assigned.
Lodan gives the man a nod: "thanks for the warning, friend." Seeing Jarred going below, he starts shambling around the deck looking for either Bansion or Jakes.

Live a sloth or die free! Shirking as a runner: acrobatics [roll0]. Stealth and SoH have the same bonus [roll1]. If Lodan manages to shirk, does he still need the CON roll to avoid being fatigued? CON, [roll2].

Lodan tries to sleep to heal 1 nonlethal damage and recover from the staggered condition.

I don't know what the DC for not getting caught is, so I'll edit my post if Lodan does get caught.

Lodan starts the day doing his best to run or, more accurately, lurch from one side of the ship to the other, nimbly slipping between mast, crew, ropes and Petaba swabbing (he puts a hand on the half-orc's shoulder, "have courage, mate"). At first, he gives all he has to the duty, wanting to avoid yet another whipping. After a few hours he seems unable to continue. When yet some other crew member orders him in the hold to bring back word to Bansion (who, Lodan knows, happens to be actually on deck at that very moment), Lodan descends and finds a small spot behind a few barrels and crates, covers himself with a rag and immediately falls to sleep.

Some time later, he wakes with great anguish twisting his gut. That was yet another smart move; they'd throw him overboard if they found him there. Lodan starts his duty anew, with a little more spring in his step, and when he passes on deck again, adds his voice.


The skipper's Chelish and the mate's halflin',
The crew are fourteen men too lean.

And we're waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day,
Waiting for the day
That we get our pay.

Her capt'n is a never-do-well,
Drunk on booze and under a spell.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh follows Catrina up to the deck, pausing only to nod quickly at Scourge to acknowledge his orders.

Well, I suppose I will be owed one day's work. I'll just have to exact payment at some other time.

When she joins her fire-haired compatriot at the sails, she fumbles the sail-making kit flying her way, but manages to catch it at the last second. She sits by a sail, and starts working on it. She has no real experience with this, and she is more or less making it up as she goes along. Catarina finishes her part of the introductions, and Thysh looks up, much happier to talk than to work, though she still focuses quite steadily on her stitching (not that it helps). She keeps up her half of the conversation, asking about Cat's history, and explaining a bit of her own, until a natural lapse in the talking arrives. She puts her mind back to work on the sails, but just can't seem to keep her concentration on it the way she would like. When Cat calls out to the other unfortunate working alongside them, Thysh looks over too, not adding much to the conversation besides the occasional facial expression or laugh, where appropriate. She is trying her best to salvage her work on the sail, but as it progresses she comes to the realisation that she is going to have to start over. She begins ripping the stitches out to try again.

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

Plugg spoke quickly, pointing to ropes and asking if the lizard understood. It stated at the pile of ropes for a moment, then back at the long-haired one ... but before it could nod, the man was rambling on, pointing the beast in the direction of other sailors. The lizard man watched the other walk away rapidly, then turned to approach the two other riggers.

It paused, staring at the dwarf and gnome for long moments before the gnome called out for help. It looked at the gnome, then moved forward. The creature was no sailor, but it's hands were quick enough, and it's back was strong.

Perhaps that would be enough for survival.

Skill check was a 15 in OOC

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: None

[3SecondCultist]

The Cook's Mate - Kana

"Aye, that be me." Up closer, you can pick out even more disgusting details about the man. He exudes an air of neglect - perhaps even despair - from the bushy tufts of black hair behind his ears, to his rotting teeth, to the actual food stains on his filthy apron. He glances over and coos at a nearby chicken before speaking again. "So ye're to be the cook's mate. Well, have a listen then! Yer job's to fetch me the food fer meals every once in a while, an' help me put it all together." He chokes out a little laugh at that, which ends up coming out a bit more like a cough or a spit-up. Shaking his head vigorously from side to side, Kroop barely manages to keep down his breakfast. Standing just as abruptly as he sat down, the Wormwood's cook rummages around his stores for a solid minute, before thrusting an entire harpoon, complete with blade and rope, in your direction. "Sea turtles, mate," he says to you, as if that were explanation enough of what to do next. Then again, perhaps it is.

Even as you turn to go, Kroop holds up one hand, before checking outside the door of the galley to make sure nobody's eavesdropping on the two of you and pulling you close. You can smell the reek of rum and other undesirable foods on his breath. "It's poison, this ship, but don't let anyone hear you say it aloud. The hull listens, see, and the captain hears it all. Poison the Wormwood is, though, rotten to the core. You'll not meet a more nasty, sour piece of work than Captain Harrigan in all your days at sea, and his crew's the same, 'specially the first mate, Mr. Plugg. Vicious sod, he is. He'd take his own mother's liver to the butcher to make pies with, he would. But they leave me alone, mostly. They know I can't harm 'em." The cook lets out another chuckle, before waving you off with his arm as though to indicate that the conversation is over. But if that little outburst has proven anything, it's that this man is not as hard-hearted or dim-witted as he might appear.

[n0ble]

What a strange, sad man. As she makes her way up to the top again, harpoon in hand, Kana contemplated Fishgut's words about being incapable of harm. And of Mr. Plug. Kroup made him out to be worse than Scourge. Great. Once topside her thoughts quickly shift to the task at hand.

In Kana's experience, sea turtles tended to the run the gamut from solitary to crotchety. Whenever she'd tried speaking with one they'd always seemed concerned with their next meal or telling her to go away. Then again that had always been the older ones. The ones she was after today. Say one thing for them, sea turtles were slow when they weren't riding a current. And that made it easy to shank them. One need only to look below the surface, just where the sun was fading away. And that's when she saw it.

A big old leatherback was lolling it was through the water, tracing a lazy path parallel with the ship. Kana immediately hurled the harpoon at it, keeping a tight grip on the rope. She repeated the action over and over, going for quantity of strikes rather than quality. Eventually she hooked the beast and dragged it on up with no small modicum of effort that saw her sprawl on the deck.

As she panted from the exertion, Kana stood up and plunged the harpoon into the turtles head, just to make sure it was dead. A good start. Few more of those and it should be turtle for food. As the thought went through her mind, Kana realized with no small amount of alarm that she was probably going to have to drag the turtle carcass back down to the cook herself. Great.

[3SecondCultist]

As the day winds on, all of you commit yourselves to the tasks to which you have been appointed, with varying degrees of success. Throughout the various cabins and holds of the Wormwood, both Jarred and Lodan manage to pass off messages from one area to the next - from the main deck, where the riggers and swabs are hard at work and Scourge looms over all, to the middle deck, where Variel is hard at work catching rats in nets alongside a cruel looking half-orc and an elder half-elf woman, through the galley where Kana and the ship's cook are busy making turtle stew for the evening meal, and down to the lower deck. Although the red-headed aasimar is effectively able to ensure that all of the missives are delivered, he does so with effort and heavy breath. Lodan, on the other hand, is able to both succeed without getting winded and sneak in an hour or so of sleep away from prying eyes without being seen. Both of them get a good layout of the ship, however, and learn a few names. Giffer Tibbs, a bedraggled gnome with one eye. Rosie Cusswell, a halfling woman carrying a handaxe. And of course, the two other runners that Scourge has appointed for today: Aretta Bansion and Fipps Chumlett. The former dresses quite provocatively, but there's no doubt she's hiding a blade or two in her bodice, and her eyes and ears seem always be on the move. The latter is a bald man with a not inconsiderable amount of muscle. One does not get the sense that they would survive the night sleeping near either pirate.

The main deck is no less a hive of activity now than it was this morning. The rigging crew, under Plugg's orders, has managed to haul out more sail and put a few more knots on the Wormwood's speed. Those who know their craft can see that the wind has turned, and the ship heads in southeasterly direction now that Jeopardy Bay has been cleared. Still, there is enough work to do above-decks that one might not even have time to notice the course that Captain Harrigan has set. The repairs done on the sails and ropes are critical to tomorrow's progress, and although both Hiss and Catrina are able to earn their keep by ensuring that the ship's cloth and lines are ready to go, Thysh's fumble is noticed by Scourge, who flicks his whip and licks his lips. "Can't wait for the Bloody Hour," he mutters as he goes to report this occurrence to the first mate. Still, that is not to say no progress is made. Despite the bosun's circling, Petaba is more than capable of swabbing the main deck, and the end result is nothing less than spotless. That, plus the half-orc's earnest shanty - as he is joined by both Lodan and Jarred for a few verses - earn a few nods of recognition among those at work nearby, and a few even chime in themselves. And towards the end of the afternoon, when Variel appears with a bucket full of dead rats, Scourge's face turns into a scowl. Clearly, he was hoping to see more than one of you punished tonight.

After the long, arduous hours of your first day begin to blur together, the sun dips further towards the western horizon of the Shackles, throwing the distant islands in sharp relief against the constant rhythm of the blue-green waves. It's hard to say exactly when the sailors stop their work, but it's just a bit before sunset when a woman with cropped black hair, green eyes, and an eyepatch heads into the captain's quarters carrying a steaming tray of turtle-related delicacies. One of the men whispers her name: Caulky Tarroon, the cabin girl. Dinner will be served soon, but the men look around with some unease. They know that the lash comes before the feast. Their worries are confirmed by the tolling of the ship's bell, a brass dragon that leers down at all from the quarterdeck. The Bloody Hour has arrived. Plugg waits with a rope in his hands on the main deck as Master Scourge descends with a few sailors behind him belowdecks. When they emerge, it is with a ragged, waterlogged man in tow. He wears quite a few cuts and blisters, and snarls at anyone who tries to get near him. "Jakes Magpie," the first mate begins, "you've been caught stealing from the quartermaster's stores. What's more, you have admitted your crime. So it falls to me, as first mate, to oversee your punishment as a part of this, the Bloody Hour. A keelhauling is in order!"

The crew is very quiet, as Magpie is affixed to the rope, which is affixed to the ship's keel. Although the man struggles and screams, it is of no use. Slowly, inexorably, Jakes is dragged overboard. The last anyone sees of the man, his nails are digging furloughs into the barnacle-encrusted hull of the Wormwood. What appears on the other side has been cut to shreds and is soon thrown overboard to feed the sharks. Then Plugg turns to Thysh. "You have failed in your duties today! For that, you've earned yourself a lash from Master Scourge." The bosun grabs the blue-skinned gnome roughly, hauling her up to the main mast and tying her there. Then, he tears a hole in the back of her shirt and goes to work, striping a line across her back with his favorite weapon. At the conclusion of the piratical punishments, the entire crew seems to breathe a sigh of relief, save those closest to the bosun. Watching the crowd, one can see Aretta and Fipps joined by the dwarf who was on the rigging, the Garundi with Petaba's mask, and the mute half-orc that watched Variel all afternoon all cleave close to Scourge. It's obvious that you've already earned yourselves more than a few enemies aboard this ship. But that's not to say some of you haven't earned a friend as well. Since this morning, the young man Jack Scrimshaw's been quite deferential towards Catrina, and it is he who points out the others in Scourge's posse: "The dwarf's name is Tam Tate, an old friend of Scourge's, the big one's Jaundiced Jape, and the one in the mask is Shikivah. Watch out for them."

As the crew of the Wormwood disperses into their smaller groups, Kana and Kroop emerge from below with entire platters of turtle meat and stew, along with some still-fresh bread picked up from Port Peril. The meal is certainly welcome to the hungry sailors, but what seems to really lift the spirits of the men and women aboard is when Kroop hauls out an entire cask of rum. What's strange is that Plugg seems to be watching everyone quite intently as they line up to get their cup of the alcohol. Nobody fails to partake, and the more one watches, the more one might be convinced that this is no privilege, but a rule. Each of you must also get in line to drink your fill of the pirate's grog. Even as you wait, you can see several of the inebriated pirates already playing games among their ranks - such as clearing barrels over which to arm wrestle, lobbing a greasy ingot across the deck, and coming back for more rum in order to play drinking games. Given the strength of the liquid, it's safe to say that quite a few of them won't be feeling quite as well about their decisions come sunrise. However, when a few of them break out into song, it's hard not to tap your feet along to the rhythm.


Way (hay) and up she rises,
Way (hay) and up she rises,
Way (hay) and up she rises,
Early in the morning!

What will we do with a drunken sailor?
What will we do with a drunken sailor?
What will we do with a drunken sailor?
Early in the morning!

There are a few more rules for me to outline here (the night-time ship actions, I will write up along with the daytime ones in the OOC). For now, I'll just cover the rum ration. Aboard many ships, half a pint of rum is distributed to each crew member at dusk. The rum is staggeringly strong, and is often watered down to make grog. Characters drinking the ration are affected as though they had taken an addictive drug. The grog is only slightly addictive, so each of you who choose to drink must make a DC 5 Fortitude save or suffer the effects of minor addiction, as well as the effects of the grog itself (a +1d4 bonus to Charisma and suffering fatigue for 1d8 hours, as well as taking 1d3 Con damage right away).

The rum ration is doled out more to keep the crew sated and docile than for recreation. The penalty for selling or spilling the ration is six lashes, or six lashes from a cat-o’-nine-tails for a second offense. Deliberately tipping away rum on board a crowded ship without being seen requires a DC 12 Stealth check. While on merchant or navy vessels rum rations are strictly limited, on pirate ships, crew members can often request more rum if they please.

Edit: oh, and Thysh takes 4 nonlethal damage from Scourge's lash.

[WalkingTheShade]

Drinking hours

Lodan looks away when they lower the hapless Magpie towards the water, as he does so when they lash the little blue girl (Tysha? No, Thysh, her name is Thysh, pronounced like eye).

Lodan is a bit surprised by Plugg's fixation on the crew's drinking habit, but decides that it's certainly not worth displeasing the man; not that imbibing is a thankless task, or that Lodan needs any encouragement. He's been dying to have a drink since this morning. He waits in line and gets his share of booze, before picking a bowl of stew, or whatever it is the cooks made, and goes to sit by himself, back to bulwark, as far as possible from Scourge and his posse. He gulps the stew like a starving man.

The first swig of grog tastes like a rat hid in the keg from Variel and perished there. "Aaah", groans Lodan, knowing the first swig always tastes the worse. He is disappointed to discover that the second, third and every subsequent swigs all keep tasting as bad as the first one. Well, when all you have is a hammer, every problem can be solved by getting hammered; or something something. Way feels better this life. Lodan mumbles the song along with the others.


Put him in the long boat 'til he's sober,
Put him in the long boat 'til he's sober,
Put him in the long boat 'til he's sober,
Early in the morning!
Yet, really, this tasted like an expired rodent's bottom end. The aftertaste is driving Lodan nauseated. He wonders if Plugg or the captain are keeping they're own better quality stash. From Lodan's new and inebriated perspective, keelhauling is starting to look like a risk worth taking. From where he's sitting, Lodan observes Plugg to determine if he drinks from the grog keg, or from another source.

Grog save: Fort, [roll0] vs. DC 5.
CHA bonus: [roll1].
Fatigue duration: [roll2].
CON damage: [roll3]. Re-rolled 1d3 OOC but still got 3.
Perception: [roll]1d20-1[roll] fudged this; got 8 OOC.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh downs her ration of rum with abandon, slipping into the drunken abyss that reminds her of her early days spent wandering. The pain fades, and the clouds reappear around her mind. She approaches Scourge, nods to him, and asks: "Permission to use a needle and thread to repair my shirt, sir? I certainly seem to need the practice with my needlework."


Fortitude: [roll0]
Charisma bonus: [roll1]
Hours: [roll2]
Constitution Damage: [roll3]

[Farmerbink]

Catrina's work passes easily enough. By the end of the day, she's pleased to see a smile gracing the lips of the younger pirate as he mumbles the day away. Catrina grimaces at Scourge's comment, and raises a lip in a slight snarl at his back as he stomps away. "He'll make ya pay for that, later. When we have time, I can help show you a bit about needlework." For just a moment, her eyes glaze over as her gaze passes over the rail and the boundless ocean beyond.

"I figure we'll have the time...."

The "bloody hour" has a rather profound impact on Catrina. She's seen men stabbed before, she's seen men and women beaten and whipped and worse for upsetting an owner or employer. She's not, however, previously witnessed the sheer apathy of Plugg and Scourge's delivery. Watching Jakes' frantic, almost animal efforts to resist the inexorable tugging of the ropes piques Catrina's curiosity. Her eyes follow the rope lines, and the truth behind a term she's heard before widens her eyes. She turns to look at Plugg, almost interrupting the punishment in her shock and disgust- only to be faced with an expression of glee.

As what's left of Jakes is hauled onto the deck, Catrina promptly evacuates her stomach over the rail on the other side.

For several long minutes, Catrina looked over the ocean- ignoring the punishment meted to Thysh, the coming and going of the cabin girl, and only finally returning her attention to the matter at hand when Jack approaches her, a faint smile about his lips, pointing out the trio of hostile-looking sailors. Something in Catrina's expression is different, however. Her eyes carry just a hint of flint, where once was innocence.

She waits in line dutifully, and throws back the rum with something akin to abandon. Some things were never meant to be seen... and yet the images remain impressed upon her inner sight. Well, it's good for that, at least....
Something about booze makes music, well... fun! It doesn't hurt that she's heard the song- and probably half a thousand extra verses- almost nightly as a child of Port Peril. Without too much prompting (beyond the liquid sort), she jumps atop a bench and bellows,

"
Shave his belly with a rusty razor!
Shave his belly with a rusty razor!
Shave his belly with a rusty razor!
Err-lie in the morning!"

Step/jumping off the bench, she finds herself standing before a truly absurd looking Gnome, whom she promptly grabs emphatically. "If you can move half as good as it looks you can, dance with me!" So it was, that Conchobar Shortstone found himself drawn to an open space on the deck.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred watches the macabre display of power and violence with a look of fascination and curiosity on his face. With a feral, toothy grimace he looks at the remains of the thief and watches the gnome's whipping. "Bloody hour indeed..." he mumbles through clenched jaw towards Catrina as it all ends before realizing she has gone to the side to vomit. "Damn - now she's gone and shown them weakness..."
-------------------

As he takes his glass of grog Jarred smells the liquid and then smiles broadly. "Watch this!" he chortles to his sister as he invokes a word that sounds vaguely of a spitting reptile. At the same moment a bright flash of orange-red light explodes from his mouth to his tumbler, lighting the grog on fire! Holding it high he bellows, "To the crew of the Wormwood - may your drinks keep you warm this night on our way to hell!" Then, with dramatic flare he downs the still lit drink adeptly in one pull.

After observing the reactions of the crew and officers present Jarred grins fiercely at the new faces. Then he exclaims, "What? Did you think our black-scaled comrade was the closest thing to a dragon on the ship? Hah!" His posture and expression are bold and challenging as he looks about for any indication that a crew member might think him an easy mark...

Jarred casts Flame Jet (http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/ultimateMagic/wordsOfPower/effectWords/fireWords.html#flame-jet-(fire)) (using it to mimic Spark (http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/advancedPlayersGuide/spells/spark.html#spark-)) to ignite his grog before drinking the remaining liquid.

Fortitude [roll0] vs DC 5 or develop minor addiction
Charisma bonus +[roll1]
Exhausted (Jarred is fatigued already) duration [roll2] hours
Constitution damage [roll3]
Fire Damage [roll4]

Bluff/Intimidate [roll5] to discourage anyone from messing with him while he sleeps tonight...(with a bonus for the magic show? :smallwink:)
Sense Motive [roll6] to see if his efforts worked

Sleep - Go to bed early and sleep through the night. This ensures that your character will automatically recover from fatigue. Like 'Work Diligently', this will be the default action for your characters.
After concluding his meal and drink, Jarred yawns broadly. As his sister tries to dance her cares away Jarred shakes his head with a smirk in her direction. Then he scowls at any pirates looking his way and walks proudly below decks to find a spot to rest...

[3SecondCultist]

As the evening begins in earnest, the atmosphere aboard the Wormwood is unexpectedly festive. The turtle stew is actually quite delectable, and several of the sailors tip their hats or nod their heads towards both Kroop and his new cook's mate, Kana. The punishments of the Bloody Hour already forgotten by most, the song's verses are taken up all along the deck as each of you who choose to be swept up by its melody lose yourselves on its current. At Catrina's urging, Conchobar gives her a lewd wink and swaggers into the middle of a circle of sailors keeping time, belting out his own verses. Never has a sea shanty sounded as lively, as bright and dangerous as when the foppish gnome sings. Even those who were otherwise occupied turn to pay attention as Conchobar's voice soars over the ship.


"Put him in the bed with the captain's daughter,
Put him in the bed with the captain's daughter,
Put him in the bed with the captain's daughter,
Early in the morning!

Way (hay) and up she rises,
Way (hay) and up she rises,
Way (hay) and up she rises,
Early in the morning!"
No one else dare interrupt, as the gnome takes his time directing the descent of the nautical tune he's conquered, leading the crew into the final verse and then the chorus' refrain. When he's finished, there is a great chorus of hoots and cheers, several of the men and women stomping the deck in abject approval. Turning to Catrina, Conchobar is slightly red from the effort, but there's a glint of genuine happiness in his eye. "That was brilliant!", he cries to the red-headed woman. "You put me up to that, you did. That was right kind of you. It's good to know that people can still recognize their betters, so thank you." Giving Catrina a proper performer's bow, the gnome soon scampers off to hear more of his own accolades, but not before giving the woman a big grin.

Not everything is fun and games, however. Although Lodan tries his very best to track the first mate or the bosun, the grog gets to him rather quickly, and his vision is one of the first things to be impaired. The shadows on the setting sun are his own, and belong to no-one else. Or are they? The man has little way of telling, as the drink surges through him like a forest blaze. He does manage to catch a glimpse of one of the impressed pirates setting their drink on fire. No, that must be an alcohol-induced hallucination. Who would be stupid enough to do that? But indeed, there are many around Jarred who stand agape at what he's just done, swallowing the draught of burning grog. Master Scourge, for his part, is one part shocked, and three parts enraged. He immediately fumbles for his whip, in order to give the man another lashing... but Plugg rests his hand coolly on Scourge's shoulder. "Relax," the younger man says to his right hand in a tone designed for everyone to hear. "He'll suffer the consequences, but not now. At tomorrow's Bloody Hour, he'll need to endure six lashes, same as any man who tries to evade the rum ration."

"And as for you," the first mate says as he wheels on the blue gnome with a suddenly ferocious gleam in his eye, "rest assured, you will have a different task tomorrow. If you fail, it'll be three lashes for you."

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

After a long day of work, few interacted much with the black-scaled monstrosity. It worked at the ropes, slowly at first, then with more confidence. It had natural ability where it lacked true skill and experience. It pauses occasionally to listen to the shanties, but would always return to work, yellow eyes focused on the task at hand.

When the evening came, it watched the punishment without blinking, ate the food without comment, then drank the swill without thinking, distracted by the red-hair making flames! It watched with interest, but almost spit the drink out. The liquid burned going down, and made the beast feel slightly ill. Given the interest the long-hair was paying to the crew and their drinks, it seemed required. Tomorrow, the beast would see about that.

The songs began again, but now the beast seemed agitated, on edge. It stalked across the deck to a group of crew setting up battles to test their strength. With an unblinking Starr, it sat down, ready to test itself.

Probably the last night Hiss will freely drink ... and he'd like to do the arm wrestling!
PS - Hiss will sleep after his night action.

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog (Fatigue 5hrs; +1 Chr 5hrs; -2 Con, two days; DC +1 2 days)

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Daytime

Petaba feels the faintest inkling of pride at his faultless work on the deck, but his aching back and blistered hands remind him of why he usually avoided this sort of labor. Still it seemed better than being sent belowdecks, judging from the smell of those who were, not to mention the bucket of dead rats. He casts one last mending to repair the rents in his clothes cuased by sprawling across the deck all day, and returns everything to where he found it. He wouldn't be giving that vicious lout a chance at his back again.


Bloody Hour

Killing a man for theft was all well and fine, especially in such a small group as this that depended on iron rules for order, but this was just pointlessly savage. Petaba had seen a tribe of cannibals do less damage to a body than the keelhauling did. Sure, they dismembered and ate the unfortunate soul, but they hadn't turned it to pulp just for fun. Petaba makes a mental note to avoid getting caught stealing. Anybody sees you with something that isn't yours, go down fighting under their blades.


Evening

Surprisingly enough, the grog wasn't the foulest booze Petaba had ever tasted. That honor went to some witchdoctor's brew of fruits, berries, and the musk gland of some unidentified animal. Still, the stuff burns like fire, and Petaba can feel it quickly deaden his limbs and loosen his tongue. The turtle soup, while good, is improved when Petaba takes a bit of chile pepper from his stash of spices to liven it up a bit.

He stomps his foot along with the rest of the crew to the outbreak of song. It gets better when Tanner takes the lead, only to be supplanted by the red-haired woman. The tiny gnome in the absurd clothing though, he truly outshines them all! Petaba doesn't even try to match him; the half-orc just doesn't have the right voice for this song. Maybe later he'd think up something for a send-off. It seemed the night was going to smoothly, except for Tanner being obviously drunk off his a**.

And then the confrontational man with the red hair sets his grog alight with a spell. Holy hells, that was stupid. This is only confirmed when Plugg announces six lashes for man. Petaba had been laid out by a single stroke; he doubted the human could endure a whipping like that, words seeming to claim draconic ancestry not withstanding. Given the man's attitude up 'til now, it seemed unlikely that anyone would be rendering him aid.

Petaba seeks out a bit of company. A halfling with a handaxe catches his eye. He had seen her earlier, nodding and humming along with his shanty on deck as she was busying herself with the ropes. She seems to be drinking by herself, and nobody should be doing that with drink this vile. It was far too easy to pass out in a corner and never wake up. Petaba settles next to the diminutive woman and says "A fine song that was. Is strong drink and lively entertainment the order of the evening to tire us out, or just because the captain cares for our well-being so much?" The last is said in a jesting tone.

[WalkingTheShade]

For want of a drink

Damn Plugg, he's onto Lodan's watching! And too nimble to stay put! Or maybe the ship's swaying too much? Lodan shakes his head to conjure the swaying away. He's smarter than Plugg and Harrigan. He'll show them by raiding their secret booze stash! Well, except he won't show them because nobody will know, but him, Lodan, he will know he's smarter!

Lodan slowly gets up, and walks up to Kana. "Hey there! That stew was micarul—m'ralic—dammit—very good!" Lodan makes a show of it, emphasizing his words by drunkenly flapping his arms around. "Really, thank me let y... I mean, let me thank you for that!" Lodan slaps a hand on Kana's shoulder (gentler than she'd expect, proving to her the man is more sober than he pretends). As the ship passes over a wave, Lodan makes a show of losing his balance and stumbling towards Kana, holding onto her shoulder. He whispers in her ear: "did you see where the grog kegs are stored? Need some to, huh, clean up future whip wounds..."

[Sen isSaqqara]

"Fair enough, sir."

Thysh takes her leave, making her way back to food table. The mental effects of the grog have been brushed momentarily away by the rush of adrenaline, giving her a moment to think while she eats. The turtle-based comestibles are actually quite enjoyable, and she makes sure to thank the cook profusely. The poor guy looks like he's had a bad day. Anyone that liberally alcoholically liberated is almost guaranteed to be drinking to forget something, even if that something it just the normal state of their life.

On one hand, by her reckoning, the ship as a whole owes her for a day's labor and a painful amount of blood. Then again, the way he's standing apart from the other officers, this guys doesn't look like she can really hold him as a representative of the ship, so she can't count that debt against what she owes him for the food. Besides, she'd like to preserve the ship's debt for future use. Thus, she figures that she should do the cook a favour. She thinks for a second, then feels for the waterproofed pack of waxed cards in a pouch at her waist. Luckily, it seems to still be there. Perfect! She just needs a third player, an accomplice. She looks out through the legs of the people crowding the deck, and picks out Catrina, finished with her song, and heading this way. Thysh approaches her, gets her attention, and beckons her to the side of the ship, where she can stand on a crate to more effectively whisper her plan to Cat.

"So I've been thinking, the cook could be a good person to have on our side. Not to mention, that new galleyrat would be in our debt by proxy. I was going to go let him win a few games of cards to cheer him up, but I'll need a third player. You in?" After a half-second, she clarifies. "It'll mostly just be an excuse to get him talking. Anyone that drunk appreciates a good listener, or better yet, two. And we might learn something interesting while we do!"

[Farmerbink]

Catrina's first impression of Thysh's comments is one of confusions. We've been press-ganged, and she's worried about who owes who? What an odd one...

Still, after a moment, Catrina finds herself nodding along, almost sagely. "It'll have ta be summat err... some game, err... relatively... 'nocent. I've nothing ta gamble with, aside from... ya know..." hand motions and facial expression indicate her own person, "and as much as you seem to be a nice girl, that's flat. out. out of line." She looks at the grossly obese, alcohol-stained cook and shudders. "Ugh!" With a shake of her head, she attempts to dispel the mental image.

"Still, if 'e's inter'sted in somethin' more... light-hearted, I'll be happy ta play along. Whatcha got in mine?"

[Sen isSaqqara]

"Of course, of course." Thysh nods along, "And I somehow doubt that playing for drinks would be wise, give the state the two of you are in already. No, we'll just play for pride, to get him talking."

She explains the game quickly, it's a simple one she picked up on the road once.

I'm not really sure what this game is called, everyone I've met who knows it calls it something different. I call it Spin, so I'll go with that for now.
Basically you have three players and deal the cards out (more or less) evenly to everyone. Play starts to the left of the dealer and goes around clockwise. On your turn, you guess a rank (like 7, or jack, or king). It can't be the one the person before you said. The next person in turn order tells you how many cards of that rank they have. Then, you pass them that many cards from your hand, face up so everyone can see them. If they said exactly three, once you've passed your cards, turn order switches directions. If they said four, you get to pass an extra card face-down if you want.
The first person to get rid of their entire hand wins.

Once she's done her explanation, she walks back over to the cook with an easy smile of the kind best employed in approaching drunks.

"'Allo there, Mr. Kroop! The winds tell me you're a half decent cards-player, and as the current holder of the title of most half-decentest of cards-players, I figured it's only fair that I challenge you to a game! Of course, Spin's the only real game to play, so if you haven't played it before perhaps we can play a few rounds of practice beforehand. I've convinced Cat here to play as our third, so what'd'y'say?"

Diplomacy: [roll0]

[n0ble]

Daytime
As she hauled the turtle back down to the same area she left, Kana re-measured Kroop. He seemed a sad man all things considered. Maybe even a little bit lonely. Hardly surprising, given how it seemed the only time he left this place was to deliver food or get more to drink. "Cheer up, eh? Look, I brought us the first part of a feast to prepare!" She gave a broad, toothy grin afterward but it came out lopsided and just plain... wrong looking. Like a girl who'd forgotten how to smile and was just doing her best to compensate for it with energy.

Night
Kana helped Kroop lug the grog up for everyone else, helping herself to a pint of it as instructed. The liquid tasted fowl and made her head swim more than she'd have liked it to. Her view takes a turn for the worse as things being to slightly blur together. She spits onto the main deck shaking her head to try and clear some of the blurriness, only for her tongue to stick to the roof of her mouth. Shouldn't have spit. Dry mouth aint good.

She flinched as Loden touched her, trying to back out of the hold he has on her shoulder. She listens to him with a somewhat annoyed look plastered on her face. "Are you crazy? If you got caught it would not just be you who suffered. It would be me and Kroop too." Much as her paranoia around others had decreased it was still an odd and quite frankly downright frightening experience to be touched by anyone again. She shot a somewhat furtive glance at the man's arm before carefully peeling it off. "Look Mr. Loden, if your really in need of healing... well I can do it. Magically I mean. I did it once after stepping on fire coral." Telling someone had been the last thing she wanted to do, and normally she would have understood the man's intentions better, but with his hand on her Kana felt a surge of panic. Anything to get her hand off him.


After this conversation Kana will go to sleep.

[3SecondCultist]

"A bit of both, I reckon. The officers are all a bunch of c!nts, though Harrigan's a smarter bastard'n most. A busy swab is a tired swab, 'n a drunk swab's even better. Plus, gives all these c!nts what they want, aye?" It's quickly evident exactly how Rosie Cusswell earned her name. Her mouth is twisted into a jagged smile, but it quickly fades away into something else as her eyes flicker back to Conchobar and Catrina talking. Hunching her shoulders, he fingers the handle on her very fine looking handaxe. She eventually stares back up at Petaba expectantly, although with a hopeful glint in her eyes. "So, I reckon I know why you're standing here with me. You wanna help? You go get me my fiddle back from from Cut-Throat Grok. Then I'll know you're a good one."

While the halfling talks to Petaba, the games continue apace as the sun's last light slips below the waves, giving the western skies an ochre glow. A greasy ingot of metal barely misses Plugg's head, and he yells at the offender to be more careful. Several of the sailors have gathered around one of the barrels where Hiss has stepped up for the next bout of arm wrestling. The surface of the wood has been covered in caltrops and bits of jagged glass, as incentive for both parties to try their hardest. One imagines that the punishment for losing would be quite painful. Most of the crew members don't seem all that inclined to square off against the hulking nagaji warrior, but one eventually steps up: Jaundiced Jape, the tongueless half-orc that split off from Scourge's posse. His eyes take Hiss in impassively, as he shakes out his bulky shoulders and sits down in preparation for the bout.

Physical fights are not the only ones to be initiated either, as Thysh explains the rules of her game Spin to both Kroop and Catrina. The ship's cook, for his part, is halfway towards the stairs back down to the galley by the time he is approached by the gnome, a bottle of rum mixed with raw eggs in his hands. "Aye, uh," Fishguts stammers, "Never heard of that game. But I suppose I can give it a shot." Wiping his hands blearily on his disgusting apron, the two-hundred pound man makes the boards of the Wormwood's main deck sing as he waddles over to find a quiet place to play. As he does, he invites over a second figure: another half-orc, this one quite reedy, wearing dark leather and absolutely bristling with weapons. "Grok, won't you play us a hand love?" She considers it, then nods brusquely and finds her seat at the makeshift table. Together, the two of them join Thysh and Catrina. As Kroop's smile widens when he wins, Grok just watches the woman across from her. Her face hardens as she puts together what's just happened, and although she says nothing, you can tell she's not pleased.

So, the rules for Arm Wrestling are as follows: "Not merely typical arm wrestling bouts, such matches are usually conducted on a barrel top covered in broken glass, knives, or caltrops. Participants make opposed Strength checks, with the higher result determining the winner, and the loser taking an amount of damage equal to 1d2 + the winner’s Strength modifier as his hand and arm are pushed onto whatever lies on the table." Jaundiced Jape has a +3 Strength modifier, so I'll just roll here.

Arm Wrestle: [roll0]

Also, since I rolled a 24 on Grok's Sense Motive check, I'm going to reduce her attitude by one point towards you guys. The quartermaster is now unfriendly to the PCs, seeing your characters as manipulative and untrustworthy.

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba gives a long shrug. "I'm just here to talk to someone who looks like they want to be on this ship about as much as I do. If you want your fiddle back though, I don't imagine it'll be too hard. Besides, it'll be nice to have some musical accompaniment to all this singing." He looks around the rowdy collective. "Erm, which one is Grok, by the way?"

[WalkingTheShade]

Slightly obnoxiously drunk

Lodan blinks at Kana while she peels his hand off. "Fire coral? No, I mean, yes, I mean, I don't need healing, it's more like... this sh!t," Lodan waves his empty grog tankard, "tastes like sh!t, and I know the officers have their own stash. I'm not going to get whipped to death and," Lodan stresses the conjuction, "go on drinking goblin piss. Might as well perish here but I'll do so drinkin' what they get to drink. So, don't help me, but I have more chances getting caught looking for it by myself."

Sense motive on Kana, [roll0], vc DC 10, just to let the RNG decide if Lodan understands she doesn't like physical contact.

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

The beast never moved as the others shuffled and murmured to themselves - it was clear few wanted to test themselves against the behemoth. It stared straight ahead, noting the jagged additions to this 'game.' Eventually, a large half-Orc lumbered over and sat down. The lizard didn't move at first, it's half-lidded eyes staring straight ahead. Then it bdrew a breath, slowly, and let out an unnerving 'hssssssssss.'

Leaning forward with a piercing gaze, it reached out to engage the half-Orc.

So here we go. First, demoralize [roll0]. Then, the check! [roll1]. Any bonus for bred for war or natural armor?

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog (Fatigue 5hrs; +1 Chr 5hrs; -2 Con, two days; DC +1 2 days)

[n0ble]

Resigned already? Kana's features soften as the man talks. It helped that he wasn't touching her anymore. "Look, we're not going to die. You or me. We just have to stand together and I can't really do that if your insensibly drunk. We have to..." she sighed "...work together" Desperate people do desperate things. Could've been the rum affecting her or the very unpleasant feeling that was fermenting in her stomach after drinking it but either way one thing was clear. She would allies now more than ever. "If you must know it's in the galley. Just... don't mention me if you get caught."

Unless the man had anything else of value to say, Kana stalked below deck to find a place to sleep, trying to keep the images of keelhauling from her mind.

[WalkingTheShade]

Sensible behavior

"Work together?" Lodan looks surprised. "Got anything more precise in mind?"

However the rest of the conversation goes, Lodan's night action will be spent sneaking into the galley, trying to figure out where the booze is kept. He won't steal anything for now, won't break down doors or pick locks, but try to get a good idea and as near as possible as to where the booze is kept.
Stealth: [roll0].
(If caught, Lodan will pretend to be very drunk and looking for a place to sleep at, bluff [roll1].)

[n0ble]

"Not for the moment. Though aiding each other in surviving might be a good start. If anything we'll need more people." And you can't do any of that while piss drunk.

[WalkingTheShade]

Disappointed

Lodan raises a disappointed eyebrow. The woman is sure easy to look at. If only she wasn't so uptight, if she smiled instead of looking at him this way. "Can't say you're wrong here AND DON'T YOU DARE EVER SPEAK AGAIN ABOUT MY MOTHER!" Lodan makes a show of waving a menacing finger at Kana then stomping the ground before moving below deck in feigned anger.

Bluff, [roll0]

[3SecondCultist]

In response to Petaba's question, Cusswell points at a lean half-orc woman bristling with weapons staring out over the other side of the main deck. "That's the sea bitch, over there. She don't much like me, but I'm sure you're a sweet talking f!cker, aren't you? You'll do fine." That done, the foul-mouthed halfling returns to what food and drink she has left, evidently done with the conversation but watching you out of the corner of her eye. She seems a bit too careful about the kind of impression she's making to be as tough as she appears.

Meanwhile, the crowd only grows around the barrel as Hiss and Jape face off. Grasping arms over of barrel of sharp objects, the pair of pirates flex their hardest as each tries to overpower the other. Their arms are a testament to their strength, but it would seem as though the half-orc has the upper hand. That is, until Hiss lets out his namesake, shaking Jape's resolve and wavering his grip. It would seem that it was just enough of a difference, as Hiss is able to push Jape's arm down into the waiting field of glass and metal. The half-orc lets out a howl of pain, as he nurses his bleeding arm and walks away, glaring at Hiss the whole time he does so.

It takes some time, but eventually the rest of the Wormwood pirates retire for the evening, heading down to set up their hammocks on the lower deck and leaving a skeleton crew behind for the night watch. Besides them, only the card players remain. Grok leaves early, citing the grog and her exhaustion, but Kroop stays up with Catrina and Thysh for at least a dozen more rounds, laughing all the while. It's plainly obvious that letting him win at something has cheered him up, and by the time Fishguts turns in, he does so with an easy grin and a pat on the back for both parties. "Ye're good salts, the both of ye," he says as he disappears below. The sun is long gone by this point, and the change in shift is nearly overdue. A full night's rest is a fiction now, and only time will tell if their new ally was worth the effort.

It is Lodan, on his way back to bed, who hears the footsteps in the lower hold. His mind is filled with the fire of the grog, so it might well have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw a blurry figure move about, carrying a bloodstained hammock. Then they're gone, as though they disappeared.

Okay guys, I've made my first cut from the game. St.Just, I'm very sorry but last night Variel was shanked in his sleep. I've already rolled Perception for Lodan (since we already decided the card players were doing the first night shift and would thus be asleep) but he didn't do so well on it (he rolled a 6). So their identities remain a secret!

That concludes the first day aboard the Wormwood! I'll be rolling in the OOC for the next day's jobs, but you guys are welcome to roleplay sleeping, and being woken up by the ship's bell in order to report to your various bosses.

[DarkOne-Rob]

As the sun rises Jarred's eyes snap open. With a snarling growl he rolls out of the hammock he found and makes his way to the deck, determined to be up there before the ship's officers call for them. Once there he finds a cup and the fresh water barrel and drinks deeply, shaking his head as the sleep still slows his motions. "Damn that grog - there is something unnatural in it or I'm an elf!" he mutters to no one in particular. Then he moves to the rail from which he can watch the morning's events while still feeling the sea breeze on his face...

...or throw someone deserving overboard. Scourge would be my first choice so far, but Plugg or the captain would do just as well. Odds are they swim well enough, though. Maybe tomorrow when I am better rested...

[WalkingTheShade]

A bad case of morning sickness

Nothing in the middle deck but thirty caged kegs of the same discount lower grade piss. Lodan comes back, certain nothing can ever go well, up to find hammocks and people sleeping in them. He picks an empty one next to a snoring crew member, before getting back up and finding another empty one further away. He instantly goes to sleep.

He dreams of sitting at a dinner table in a house near a beach, with his parents, and Harrigan, and Plugg. Lodan politely makes the introductions, but Harrigan and Plugg start laughing maniacally. Lodan wakes up and in the darkness sees a couple people carrying something away from the crew's quarters then goes right back to that house on a beach.

Lodan wakes up drenched in cold sweat, shacking, needing a drink, not any drink, but last night's grog. "That ain't right," he mumbles to himself. He gets out of his hammock to see the red-haired flame spewing (or did he dream that too?) d!ck going out on the top deck. Lodan follows, leans on the rail next to the man, "hi, what's your name again?" promptly throws up bile overboard, wipes his mouth, "nevermind, say, do you have a plan to escape Scourge's, huh, scourge? Oh, yeah, maybe you don't know: Plugg said you'd get six lashes for... you did light up your grog on fire or something? Anyways, the half-orc barely survived two lashes and, no offense meant, he looks a lot tougher than you or I."

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Sensing the end of Rosie's willingness to be conversational, Petaba settles back, leaning against the creaking hull. He observes the boisterous crew with an eye towards the relationships. If this is where I'm stuck for now, I may as get to know who I'm sharing this place with. Everyone had their own motives, their own feelings. Perhaps most importantly though, they all had things they wanted to hear. Petaba wanted to know the rights words to speak in this crowded den of thieves and murderers. It would possibly be the only thing that kept him alive.

There is only so much one can get from just watching though. Petaba makes casual conversation with anyone who looks willing, avoiding those who give him a foul look as he approaches.

After a while though, Petaba can feel the day's work and the powerful grog start to get to him. His eyes droop and his shoulders sag. Off to bed with you. No doubt that tomorrow will bring new humiliations. He sways his way down to a free hammock. It doesn't take long for the darkness to close in, and sleep to find him.

Sense Motive: [roll0] vs. DC 20
Diplomacy for Gather Information: [roll1] vs. DC 15 to find out basic things like names and open secrets.



As the sun finds the ship, Petaba wakes with a start. His sleep had been deep and blissful, just the perfect sort to get someone killed in their sleep. As soon as he recognizes that he isn't bleeding, Petaba relaxes. Then the ship's bell starts ringing, heralding a start to work. He swings to the side and puts his feet on the floor with a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

He heads on up to deck, looking for the rest of the swabbing crew. They're easy enough to find, with Rosie standing around glowering at anybody and the woman with his mask looking like she was ready to harm anyone who got near her. It was apparent enough that they were not morning people.

Seeing his mask yet again on a thief's face though, Petaba resolves to get it back. He'd earned it, and the woman had not. The same shaman who had given him his ritual scarring had given him the mask, claiming it would keep away evil spirits. Though Petaba had little experience in higher magics, there were enough dark things in the world that anything that could help give an advantage against them was worth keeping near. Even more than that though, the mask was his, and it was time to start reclaiming his life.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"hi, what's your name again? [Vomit]...nevermind, say, do you have a plan to escape Scourge's, huh, scourge? Oh, yeah, maybe you don't know: Plugg said you'd get six lashes for... you did light up your grog on fire or something? Anyways, the half-orc barely survived two lashes and, no offense meant, he looks a lot tougher than you or I."
Jarred stares at the man incredulously. "You talk too much, but you can call me Red until you learn to keep quite. Words have power, and so far yours seem to attract Scourge's attention," Jarred replies seriously. "No, I don't have a plan - yet - and yes I lit that swill before drinking it." He stops speaking as the bell begins to ring, with a proud and angry expression marring his otherwise handsome visage.

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

The beast felt a wave of anger when it felt the Orc gaining ground. But with a slow silo any hiss, the pirate was unnerved, shaken enough to lose focus. In that moment, the black-scaled lizard flexed and inexorably pushed the crewman's arm into the metal and glass with a slow certainty. With a cry of pain, the half-Orc lurched to his feet and stalked off, eyeing the lizard evilly. The scales beast rose to its full height and stared back at the departing figure - those nearby could have sworn that there was a flash of teeth, and the hint of a ... smile?

The beast moved off to find a place to sleep, one where it could keep an eye on anyone sneaking up on it. Probably with the other newcomers, if possible ...


The beast awoke immediately before the sound of the bells, having grown accustomed to such things. Rising, it took stock of things for a moment, then headed to the deck. It didn't even notice the missing newcomer ...

Ready to go ...

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog (Fatigue 5hrs; +1 Chr 5hrs; -2 Con, two days; DC +1 2 days)

[WalkingTheShade]

An unlikely alliance?


"You talk too much, but you can call me Red until you learn to keep quite. Words have power, and so far yours seem to attract Scourge's attention. No, I don't have a plan - yet - and yes I lit that swill before drinking it."

Lodan smiles. "You got it backwards, Red, I'm fine, others don't talk enough. Master Fane, the half-orc, he knows some healing magic, as does another friendly crew member. They'd both help. Your... friend? sister? whoever she is, I'm sure she'd help too. There has to be a way to get them to believe that you fell overboard while we hide you away... Not that I care that much, but a flame throwing ally has his uses."

[DarkOne-Rob]

"There has to be a way to get them to believe that you fell overboard while we hide you away... Not that I care that much, but a flame throwing ally has his uses."
When Lodan mentions the idea of Jarred falling overboard Jarred looks at him again, distrust evident in his expression. "Yeah...no. Maybe if a better idea occurs to you we can talk more. For now, let's not get whipped before we even begin working."

[n0ble]

Kana's eyes sharply opened as she awoke. 'Nother bad dream. Except this time she was being keel-hauled and Coal-Dark had replaced Plugg. She sat upright and cross legged for a moment before listening to the sound of the ocean outside. It went a ways towards calming her nerves. She closed her eyes briefly and listened, controlling her breathing, taking in the sounds of the water sloshing against the Wormwood's hull. Her eyes opened again more slowly this time and she sat upright and made her way onto the deck.

Despite any misgivings she had about prior physical contact, it was good to see that the man-Loden-had survived the night in spite of his proclamation to steal the good rum. That gave her a thought. Maybe should could ask Kroup about alcohol later, see if there was anything in the pantry that might dilute the swill that had been forced on her last night. Otherwise she simply milled about, waiting for her assigned task.

[Farmerbink]

As Grok departs, early in the evening, a flicker of concern slashes across Catrina's face. Didn't make any friends there... Damn.

Undaunted, she and the blue-haired Gnome continue their game with the greasy, oversized cook. This wins a hand or two, and no less than a half-dozen times Catrina gets two or three cards away, but unerringly, Kroop manages to steal victory from the jaws of defeat the vast majority of the games. Unsure if the man knows their ploy or not, Catrina takes a small measure of joy in the man's easy smiles and free laughter. He probably hasn't had a good night in ages. At least now I can rest fairly certain that we won't be poisoned...

Still debating the wisdom of her choice, Catrina stumbles towards the berth to find an empty hammock. Given the emptiness of the ship's decks, any such hammock was sure to be unclaimed. In her fatigue and stupor, however, she failed to actually get in the hammock, and instead woke- sore as all get out- with her head and shoulders on a hammock and her butt firmly on the floor beneath, just as the ship's bell began to peal. Groaning and cursing a storm under her breath, Catrina stretched her shoulders and back as she made her sluggish way towards the main deck...

[3SecondCultist]

The Swab Crew - Catrina, Jarred, Lodan, Petaba, Thysh

The ship's bell calls you out of the darkness of the lower decks and into the not-yet blistering glare of the sun. The rays of light come in from the port side - which for those of you with keen navigational senses, means that sometime in the middle of the night, the Wormwood has tacked south by south-west. Although Harrigan's destination is unknown, some of you have a decent to good sense of the ship's general direction. As you hit the main decks, you catch sight of Scourge with a few of his toadies eating what passes for breakfast on this vessel: hard biscuits. Behind you, you can hear footsteps on the deck as Scrimshaw appears, tossing all five of you your own morsels of food. "Had to get in early to prevent the others from taking it all," the tanned sea rat warns you. "I'll try to get you some extras next time." But Scrimshaw slips away as Scourge approaches, not wanting to risk the bosun's ire. Scourge himself is clearly in a more foul mood than usual, scowling and chomping on the bit about something. He flicks his whip idly at his feet.

"Come on then, get in line! I've not got all day, ye swine!" The whip suddenly lashes the air in front of your faces menacingly. "There's work round here needs doing." He drags the tired Bagrid siblings out of the lineup first. "Since the two o' ye look so tired, I think a few laps of the ship might do ye good. Ye'll be my runners today, got it? Oh, and I've taken everyone else off it, so ye'll need to pick up the slack some." Next up is Thysh, who Scourge assigns to the main deck, but not for repairs this time. "Ye see the riggers, how they be coiling the ropes near the gunwales? I want ye to try that. See how much of it ye can carry!" He chuckles at the prospect of the gnome's failure, clearly anticipating getting to lash Thysh more tonight for her continued failures.

Scourge turns to the last two members of your swab crew with a special antagonism. Two days in, and it's already clear that the man can't wait to end Lodan and Petaba. He slices his whip at the half-orc first, barely missing him and leaving a thunderous aftereffect in the salty air. "Ye'll be doing repairs up here today," Scourge says as a matter of summary. He doesn't bother explaining the duties further. "And as for ye..." he says to Lodan, "I've saved ye the best for last. The bilges be in need o' some cleaning, have for a while. I wants ye to clean out the muck down there." He whistles, and in a flash, Aretta Bansion stands by his side, sneering at Lodan. "She'll be joinin' ye as well." Bansion, for her part, doesn't seem all that pleased at the prospect of what's about to happen, but the woman's knife-edge beauty seems ready to cut the rogue's throat if he steps out of line.

"Go on, then! Ye have yer assignments for the day, get to work before I've a mind to whip ye bloody!" It's only then, after the man has called you all out by name, that you notice Variel is distinctly missing from the deck. If Scourge has even noticed the elf's absence, however, he has not mentioned it.


The Rigger - Hiss

You are quickly separated from the others as Scourge pounces on them with a barely restrained fury. Plugg is not much better, as the young man keeps a steady hand on his sword when he walks by the swabs. Whatever happens, the man appears to be on his guard. His glance eventually darts your way. "I have a different task for you today, sailor," the first mate says, his cold eyes never leaving yours. "You impressed me so much with your climbing, that I thought you could serve as today's lookout. The job is easy: just climb back up to the top of the rigging, take your place in the crow's nest, and give a shout if you see sails." Suddenly, Plugg is standing very close to you, and you can see a very real burst of unrepentant rage in his gaze. "If I see you on the deck before dinner, I will flay you to within an inch of your miserable life. Do you understand me?"

Looking up the sails to the top of the Wormwood's mast, you can see that today's will be a solitary task. You will have time to think, but you will be doing so alone.


The Cook's Mate - Kana

Arriving at the galley well-rested, you find it reeking of the stench of grog even more than some of the crew did last night. Pushing the doors open, you find Kroop lying in a fetal position not far from one of the bubbling cauldrons, bits of drying vomit coating the floorboards. The whole place stinks of something foul. "Ashk.. ask me again..." the man's mumbles are all but incoherent, the product of an intoxicated mind. Within moments, you can tell that the man is in no fit state to do anything at all, let alone cook. Whatever happened to Fishguts last night, it's nearly destroyed him.

Looking around further, you can see that absolutely no prep work has been done for tonight's meal. Although a few boxes of the biscuits have been distributed among the crew members, you will need to make use of the food stores, some of the leftover turtle meat, and whatever utensils you can manage in order to prevent the crew from eating you alive in turn.

[WalkingTheShade]

"And as for ye..."

Lodan straightens, looking far beyond the ship, fearing what's yet to come, and with useless bravado blurts out a convincing: "yes sir!"

"I've saved ye the best for last. The bilges be in need o' some cleaning, have for a while. I wants ye to clean out the muck down there."

"Sir, a noble task, sir!" Now that he thinks of it, Scourge reminds Lodan of a foreman at the shipyard he was working at. That foreman was both a cold tyrant to everyone below him and a mellow sycophant to everyone above. Lodan's father had counseled the son not to confront the man, but just to go overboard with whatever pleasantries where needed to placate the man. "It'll be over in a few weeks, grit your teeth, tell 'im what he wants to hear, and while he's on the others' back, you'll have time to slack," his father had said. At the point he's at, he may as well try that with Scourge.

Lodan remembers Aretta from yesterday evening. Her air of danger gives her a toxic charm; her air of danger also screams to Lodan to stay away if he wants to keep his lungs healthily unpunctured. Lodan is no stranger to concealed blades. Any hesitation Lodan still has about the woman is immediately resolved as she's summoned by Scourge; if looks could kill, the one Aretta gives Lodan would award him instant death by a thousand blades and then spontaneously combust whatever remains. Lodan, deadpan, just answers: "mylady, honored to be granted the privilege of your company," still standing straight, avoiding eye contact.

As Scourge moves a safe distance away from the line, Lodan's shoulder stoop, letting out a sigh on his way to pick an empty bucket. He follows Aretta down below. While descending, Lodan thinks of Variel's absence, of what he isn't sure he saw at night. Once in the bilges, muck up to the calf (Lodan thanks whoever made his knee high boots), the man again breaks in cold sweat, a shiver passing through him. So, he's—one—been sent to the most secluded part of the ship, with—two—one of the ship's cutthroats, and—three—the elf was made to disappear yesterday. Right. Keep your cool. He clears his throat: "well, Lady Bansion, seeing that elf seems to have jumped ship, either goodman Scourge has sent you here to cut my throat while nobody's looking (in which case I would thank you to wait for the work to be over, since these hereby bilges are in obvious need of cleaning) or," and Lodan finally looks the woman in the eyes, giving his most charming smile, "Scourge hates your guts so much he put you up to the smelliest and most thankless task on board, with the most annoying uncharming fast-talking spineless thin-skinned scoundrel who ever crewed on board the Wormwood and who is, incidentally, the only person Scourge seems to hate more than you."

Strength check for work: [roll0] VS DC 12.
Constitution check against fatigue: [roll1] VS DC 10.
Diplomacy check to seduce Bansion: [roll2]. My hope is that even if Lodan doesn't manage to seduce her, his arguments will at least drive a wedge between her and Scourge.

Oh, and the cold sweat+shacking are meant to be grog withdrawal symptoms, since Lodan is now addicted.

[n0ble]

The Cook's Mate

What. The. F!CK!. A scowl immediately befell Kana's face as she stared at the inebriated mass on the kitchen floor. You had one job Kroop. One godsdam job. She sighed and looked about with a panicked air at the kitchen, searching for ingredients that might go well together. Sh!t Sh!t Sh!t. She closed her eyes, as she'd done just after sleeping, letting the steady rocking of the boat take over for a moment.

Still some turtle soup left. Not enough for a full meal though. Were those salt water crocodile flanks? Wont matter none 'less all the cookery gets cleaned. With that thought she ambles over to the small atoll of dirty pots, taking care to avoid the vomit. She immediately sets to work cleaning them, channelling her anger towards Kroop into scrubbing each of the pots raw.

It might have taken her the better part of the morning to clean, but it's well worth it. Most of her fury and scowl dissipated with the scrubbing. With that done she started in on the meal proper. Leftover turtle soup, crocodile flank, and some mollusks that by her estimation would have gone bad the next day anyways. Say one thing for crocodiles, they tasted like chicken. Or at least close enough.The druid thoughtfully nibbled on a herb as she heated the meat in the fire. Some kind of dried out plant algae that carried the saltiness of the sea with it. Mm. That'd go well on this...

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba gives a halfhearted acknowledgement, and goes to find the repair crew. It is fairly easy to locate the group, as they have a sail stretched out on the deck, and are repairing what appears to be some fairly large tears in it. He notices with some distaste that the thieving Garundi is with him. It was time to get to work.

He pulls a bit of the sail on to his lap and begins to stitch it. The work isn't hard, if quite monotonous. It was basically the same as fixing a tear in his clothes, except on a larger scale and with far less interesting patterns. If the others seem to be having difficulty with a particular task, he prioritizes helping them, going so far as to use a mending to help fix the sail, or dancing lights to provide a bit of light when they have to go below decks to find some more thread.

He makes small talk with the others, to the extent that they reciprocate. He keeps a close eye on Shivikah, trying to get a sense of her from her actions and her responses to the conversation. He'd be getting his mask back soon enough.

Gather Information:[roll0]
Sense Motive: [roll1]

Come the hottest part of the day, Petaba stands and stretches. They had made excellent progress on the sail, and a word with Grok was in order. Just need to convince a hard-bitten pirate that doesn't care much for any of us that she wants to hand me back a valuable fiddle. Should be delightful time.

He finds the quartermaster's store easily enough. It was the kind of place that needed to be easily accessible from all areas of the ship. If it is a song that will soften her temper, a song she'll get. He clears his throat, and out comes an old, sad song in Polyglot. It was a ballad, telling about a warrior far from home, beset on all sides by enemies. All the warrior had to remember his village was a small pouch of seeds, and at every turn and misfortune, he lost a few more seeds.

Walking in, Petaba stops singing, stopping right at the climax of the abridged version of the ballad. He is met with an interested but silent stare. "Afternoon, Grok. I'll be level with you, as I've heard you've perhaps come to the impression that us new crew members are a bit lacking in forthrightness. I'd like to get Rosie's fiddle back, if you please, to bring a bit more music back to this ship. As pleasant as any song is, it could be only better with a musical accompaniment."

Diplomacy: [roll2]

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

The beast stared at the long-haired man without blinking, weathering the seemingly uncalled for threat. After he turned away, the lizard glanced up the mast, then started up towards the top. The ropes were more jumbled this day, as the ropes caught the beast's legs a few times. But in still only took a few seconds to reach the top and search the horizon. With that task done, the beast settled in, looking down upon the ship at the others.

At least the smell up high was fresh.

If only he was a sneakier type, Hiss would have had plenty of time to sneak around. But, NOOOOO Plugg had to make a point ...

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog (+1 Chr 5hrs; -1 Con; DC +1)

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh wakes with little by way of a hangover. The grog seems to have done quite a job on most of the others, but she feels quite good about herself. That said, she doesn't remember much about how she wound up in bed the night before. She makes her way topside along with the others, making a mental note to be up earlier tomorrow, to get more and better food. Still, she takes what she can and chokes it down, preparing for the day.

When Scourge arrives, all blustering and screaming, she gets in line quickly. She vaguely recalls a threat of more time under the whip if she doesn't perform to standards today, so she resolves to be less bad at basic shipside tasks. Surely, she thinks to herself, I can succeed at coiling a rope or two. And then I'll be owed two days' labor, and a whipping, and goodwill by proxy. She continues mentally counting off what she is owed, in sum, by everyone she has ever met, as the others get their assignments. She doesn't really think too much about what anyone else is doing, at least for the moment. Her mind has begun to wander a bit, but she manages to stay more or less on task regarding the ropes.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Had to get in early to prevent the others from taking it all...I'll try to get you some extras next time."
"You're a saint, Scrimshaw. Thanks!" says Jarred with a smirk. "You need a hand with something, let me know - I don't let debts go unpaid. I'd be good in a scuffle if you need someone at your back..." He then stuffs the food hastily into his mouth, following it with a quick pull of water as the swabs form a line before their taskmaster.

Diplomacy (untrained) [roll0]. If Catrina's friendliness with Jack helps Jarred by association, apply a +2 bonus please? :smallbiggrin:

"Since the two o' ye look so tired, I think a few laps of the ship might do ye good. Ye'll be my runners today, got it? Oh, and I've taken everyone else off it, so ye'll need to pick up the slack some."

...It's only then, after the man has called you all out by name, that you notice Variel is distinctly missing from the deck. If Scourge has even noticed the elf's absence, however, he has not mentioned it.

"Oh, and one more thing," Harrigan says as he turns back towards the door to his cabin. "Even with you new recruits, we're still short-handed, and I aim to keep what crew I have. [B]There'll be a keelhaulin' for anyone caught killin' anyone."
With an expressionless nod Jarred turns to begin the day's work. As he passes Jack Scrimshaw he quietly asks, "Where's the scrawny elf from yesterday? The captain was very clear - the ship needs crew members..."

As Jarred is already fatigued (http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/coreRulebook/glossary.html#fatigued), he cannot run (which is likely to be something of a problem...) and takes a -2 to Dex. If the non-running is an actual problem, please let me know what you want me to do with him.

Shirk
Acrobatics [roll1] vs. DC 10 or fail to perform duties well
Constitution [roll2] vs. DC 10 or become exhausted at the end of his shift
Stealth [roll3] to avoid getting caught...
As he passes the kitchen and sees the chaos Kana has inherited for the day. "You look like you are going to have a rough day...If I drag Kroop there to a quiet place out of the way and clean up the deck there to get the smell out, can you make me a cup of strong, black coffee? I'll owe you, for what that is worth around here..."

I am hoping that this can count both as me "shirking" for resting purposes ("I love coffee (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XxsasUHzaQ)") to be un-fatigued and taking 10 on an appropriate skill check (or a Strength check maybe?). The result of a Profession (Sailor) check would be a 9, while a Strength check would result in a 13 until he is not fatigued anymore.

In addition, Kana is in a position to do things, and Jarred would be interested in having such an ally. Access to kitchen knives, food, coffee, the grog, etc... can all be useful in changing our state onboard the Wormwood. Maybe Kroop has some keys or some other manner to access the officers' quarters - it is worth being sneaky some. Kana might need someone like Jarred to put her up to it, but an entire day alone on the ship could be used well, assuming she doesn't have to spend it cooking the entire day. (Worth considering for future days.)

[n0ble]

Kana idly jamed a thumb in the direction of the coffee pot while hacking into a flack of crocodile meat. She set down the cleaver and shot a glance at the hulking form of the prone cook before shrugging her shoulders, "Sure." Having someone owe her for once seemed like it'd be nice. Though she wasn't sure she trusted the Red-Hair after all his posturing on deck. With that she went back to hacking away at the meat, diving it up first into long strips and then into cubes which she mixed in with the turtle soup remains. The beast mustve been huge given the amount of crocodile they had. Quite the leviathan apparently.

[Farmerbink]

A pounding head and a wince at the bright morning sun accompany Catrina to the deck for the second day in a row. I'm gonna have to stop this... she muses silently. She finds a hard biscuit in her hand and takes a bite. Scourge's whip cracks nearby eliciting another wince and effectively shattering the brief moment of introspection.

..."Ye'll be my runners today, got it? Oh, and I've taken everyone else off it, so ye'll need to pick up the slack some." Catrina nods, with a dull expression. "Aye, sir." Without another word, she follows the man's questionably useful instructions.

Throughout the day, she focuses on the task at hand, nimbly avoiding the numerous perils of traversing an ocean-bound ship. The day plods on, and true to his word, Scourge's assignment proves arduous, indeed. As the sun begins it's inexorable descent, Catrina's legs become steadily more and more leaden. Finally, as the ship's bell tolls for the bloody hour, Catrina slumps on the main deck near the mast. Happily, she's completed her task- but it may be all she can manage to stay up long enough to make dinner....

[3SecondCultist]

The Swab Crew - Catrina, Jarred, Lodan, Petaba, Thysh

A few of the pirates seem to be warming to your presence, such as Scrimshaw and Shortstone, but the rest of them seem largely unconvinced of your worth aboard the vessel. Fortunately, while Scourge clearly has it in for most of you, he is equally preoccupied with his own tasks as the bosun, and can only be in one place at once, coming and going from the main deck, the middle and lower decks with a scowl. He is more than a little surprised to see how well Thysh has done on her rope duty, standing for a moment as he watches the aesthetic but functional display of well-organized ship's line. He looks at the pile, then at the gnome, then back at the pile again, clearly confounded, before shaking his head and moving on.

Down in the bilges, Lodan is met with nothing but a cold silence from Aretta for hours. At least, he thinks it's day - the two of them are far enough down in the ship's hold that light no longer filters through the miniature slits in the hull. Instead, every wave that the Wormwood hits fills the bilges with more seawater for the two pirates to pump out while cleaning out the area. Hours pass in sullen silence, as the rogue all but breaks his back and collapses under the work. "Careful," the woman mutters, "you wouldn't want to hurt yourself there, sweetheart." An ugly smirk passes across her face, which somehow looks all the more beautiful for it. Lodan is struck by the notion that if she wanted him, she could take him right here, and he would not enjoy it. She seems to be waiting for him to slip and break his neck, but is not willing to start any trouble herself.

"Nice tune, that," Grok growls to Petaba with something resembling a smile. It's clear that despite her disapproval, the fellow half-orc has won the quartermaster's interest with something approaching genuine kindness and a little melody. "You'n should be abovedecks workin', shouldn't you? I imagine Scourge don't take too kindly to shirkers about. But I'll see what I can do about givin' that little devil her fiddle back. Maybe if you came by after hours, we could haggle somethin' out?" Although she scoots Petaba out, it's clear that Grok really does mean to take the bard up on his offer. In the meantime, it's back to fixing up sails in the rigging and listening for as much gossip as he can on the subject of Shikivah. Apparently, she used to be a slaver, and quite a brutal one at that, and unlike most here, she actually volunteered to join Captain Harrigan's crew, in the hopes of working her way as high as she can go in order to reclaim some of her former power. According to Scrimshaw and any of the other sailors who are willing to whisper on the topic, her face is covered in burns, hence the need for a mask. She barely talks to anyone, even those who are purportedly her 'friends', such as Tam Tate and Slippery Lonegan, herself a violent outcast.

It's Jarred who bears the brunt of the day's assault. Back to running - or rather jogging, in his state - the length of the ship, he can barely make one deck before needing to stop for air. Despite any aid he might have gotten from stimulants like the java from the galley, the draconic sorcerer can barely stay on his feet, let alone perform his duties to any sort of satisfactory standard. Whenever Scourge sees him, the bosun berates the man and threatens him with his whip, which works for just long enough for Jarred to get out of the line of sight. Still, his efforts are not successful, and judging by Scourge's expression, he'll be adding at least one more lash to his punishment at the upcoming Bloody Hour. Catrina fares better, although not by much; she's able to successfully pass along what information is required, but ends up in a state not too dissimilar from her brother.

As the sun makes its way closer to the deck, the Wormwood's bell tolls again. The Bloody Hour is upon you.


The Rigger - Hiss

Your ascent into the rigging is largely unhindered, save for a few false starts near the beginning that slow your progress. It's only been a day, and already you feel you know the upper echelons of this ship quite well. After about a minute, you make your way to the crow's nest, a comfortable little nook tucked away just below the top of the mainmast. Below you, the silver-green surface of the Fever Sea spreads out like a glistening curtain. The wind is in the ship's sails now, and up here, away from Plugg, Scourge, or even any of the other crew, there is a modicum of peace. It's a shame that this time has to come to an end, as all things do. Your eyes rake the horizon line, spotting distant islands, but there are no other ships that you can pick out anywhere close to the Wormwood.

Hours pass, and the longer you spend up in the nest, the better a perspective you get of some of the landmarks around you. A practiced sailor would probably be able to more precisely chart Harrigan's course, but you are no sailor. Still, it's almost a shame when the sun begins to wane. Plugg will want a report of the day's inactivity, no doubt.

Any sailor worth their salt can make out the distant silhouette of Dahak's Teeth, the infamous dragon archipelago of the Shackles that belongs to Ashaak and her cult. The shoals of the Teeth have been sharpened by the claws of drakes in order to appear all but invisible to ships, but sharp enough to cut any hull to pieces in a matter of minutes. Only the great carved dragons of the nearby cliffs serve to identify the island - a dire warning for sailors to steer clear.

The Cook's Mate - Kana

As you scramble to put together a meal for over two dozen people, you have a few visitors. The man who set his glass on fire pops his head in asking for coffee in exchange for moving Kroop out of your direct path, and Caulky Taroon comes by at least once to check on your progress, ostensibly 'on behalf of the officers.' But beyond them, your only company is the insensible Kroop, who falls to snoring at least once or twice over the course of the day. "Just... just slide it in there, that's a girl..." is just one of the many strange thought fragments you hear from the cook. There are usually mentions of one of his chickens, who cluck and do their utmost to distract you throughout the course of your cooking process.

Eventually, however, you manage what appears to be quite the appetizing meal. The crocodile meat - along with the most annoying of the chickens and the last of the turtle meat from yesterday - pairs quite well with a few of the herbs you find in Kroop's makeshift pantry, filling the galley with a titillating aroma. Although you're not a born cook by any means, you know enough about the sights and smells of the world to know that the pirates above will very much love your dish by the time you put your finishing touches on it.

[WalkingTheShade]

Resignation

At the moment of the Bloody Hour, Lodan simply walks up from the bilges to the main deck, exhausted, miserable, feverish and covered in muck. He sits and empties both his boots of seawater. He walks to the mainmast, removes his wet shirt, presenting his naked back and wordlessly waits for his punishment.

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

A cheerful whistling betrays Petaba's good mood. Tyrvus had been right when he had said that nobody could stay unfriendly in the face of a good song. He had, of course, meant it a bit more literally given the powerful magic his songs usually carried, but Petaba chose to appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. The quartermaster seemed to be less unsympathetic now, and Rosie would likely be getting her fiddle back.

As for Shikivah, it might be best to let her keep the mask for now, at least until Petaba had a knife or something to defend himself with. Slavers weren't known for being the most reasonable people, and one with a reputation like hers would probably be even less so. Maybe just make friends with her for now, if that was even possible. Given how well Grok had responded though, it might be doable.

Petaba stops whistling when he sees Tanner bedraggled and shirtless, already awaiting punishment. This couldn't be good. Petaba walks up to the mast and places a hand on the human's shoulder. "You've got this. The pain lasts only for a bit." A pat on the back, and Petaba goes to take his place to watch. Between Tanner and the grog-burning idiot from last night, Bloody Hour would be living up to its name again today.

[WalkingTheShade]

"You've got this. The pain lasts only for a bit."
Lodan whispers, looking worried: "your healing trick from yesterday, can you make it work for me?"

[Space Lawyer]

"Your healing trick from yesterday, can you make it work for me?"

"It should work, unless Scourge well and truly lays you open. I can only fix up so much. Try your best not to die."

[WalkingTheShade]

Lodan turns to look at Petaba with a scowl (but a half suppressed smile). He's not whispering anymore. "What do you think? Of course, I'll do my best not to die!"

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh, who has been sitting meditating on a perfect pile of rope, walks over to join Lodan and Petaba. She recalls her earlier failure to help heal her wounded compatriot. As she sees it, they're in the same boat in more than one sense, and she has a degree of duty to help them not die, so she can offer assistance and healing without them incurring debt.

If you need help with the healing tonight, I can assist.

[3SecondCultist]

As everyone begins to gather for the Bloody Hour, Scourge is all too happy to guide the already-shirtless Lodan to the mainmast for his punishment. The ship's bell has stopped tolling, leaving only the heave of the evening waves and the creaking of the rigging above as the accompaniment to tonight's chorus of misery. "Caught slacking off, were we? Ye couldn't even hold yer own in the bilges, let alone be of any use!", the bosun says as he smiles ferociously at Lodan, before strolling around the man until he's right behind him. The whip licks the air hungrily. "We all know the punishment for that, don't we lads?" The lash comes straight and true, ripping open the sailor's back and sending him into the crushing darkness of unconsciousness. He seems mostly unharmed, however. After inspecting the body, Scourge just starts laughing. "We got ourselves a mighty weak crew!"

The second round of pain is not all that much better. Jarred is hauled into Lodan's place as the latter is dragged away, and it's evident to all that the sorcerer is not in good shape from the day he's been having. "As if failing to do yer duties weren't enough," the Wormwood's bosun drawls, "ye've gone and burned yesterday's rum ration. Sets a bad example, that does!" This raises a few harsh laughs from the hecklers among the crew, namely Slippery Lonegan, Bansion, and Tate. Still, it's hard to see the humour in this. The first stroke nearly wipes Jarred out, but he barely manages to stay on his feet. The second, however, knocks him cold, leaving a long swath of his blood all over the deck. Scourge faces the rest of the crew for a moment, to let the image sink in.

Then Scourge looks at Plugg, who stands on the quarterdeck looking down at the proceedings, and the latter gives a silent nod. "We've got ourselves one more punishment tonight!" With a whistle, Jaundiced Jape and Shikivah immediately grab Jack Scrimshaw, who looks about him in utter bewilderment. It is not Scourge who speaks, but Plugg, who slowly descends to the deck. "Last night, one of our swabs - an elf named Variel - was killed, countermanding Captain Harrigan's direct orders. He was not long for our crew, but killing each other weakens this whole enterprise, and will not be tolerated." The first mate raises a bloodstained blade expectantly. "I have evidence, and eye-witness testimony, that puts Jack Scrimshaw at the scene of the crime. For this, he faces keelhauling. Does anyone have anything to say in Scrimshaw's defense?"

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred silently allows himself to be hauled to the mast, where his exhausted frame weakly leans against the wood. He does not cry out in pain, instead gritting his teeth and sucking breath as the first lash hits. When the second falls he slumps limply to the deck, unmoving as the crew makes no effort to help him rise or drag him to a place where he can rest.

If another PC wants to help (Catrina would be obvious, but I am not picky), it would be great for someone to get Jarred to a hammock. If he is healed he is likely to recognize the debt owed, but please do not heal him before the grog would be secured...

For his ship action tonight Jarred will:


Sleep - Go to bed early and sleep through the night. This ensures that your character will automatically recover from fatigue. Like 'Work Diligently', this will be the default action for your characters.
In the morning he will begin the day un-fatigued at 3 HPs (unless someone heals him).

[n0ble]

Kana rather impassively takes in the whippings. Perhaps healing the Red-hair at some point would work. As much as she didn't want others to know, someone owing her two favours would be good, assuming he's good on honouring them. Doesnt look like he's in a state to do much of anything right now mind you. She makes a mental note to do something about it when theres not more pressing things to attend to. Like watching another potential keel hauling. No wonder they had to press gang us with all this death flying around. She made another mental note to get to the quartermaster at some point and retrieve her quarterstaff. While she was capable of the odd electrical burst when angry enough, the staff would help her whomp any would be rapists or murderers. Another goal to consider.

Kana gives a shrug as she learns of the elf's death and the Scrimshaw-man's alleged crime. She doesnt know the man and doesnt want to get to know him, particularly if he's in the habit of shanking crew members in their sleep. Though whether that's true is anyone's guess really. Not like I'm going to speak up.

[Farmerbink]

As Scourge faces the crew, silently adding his glare to the obvious menace of Jarred's bleeding body, Catrina looks in the space past him with pointed indignation. She begins approaching Jarred, to at least ensure her brother remains among the living, and almost misses Scourge's announcement. Instead, she looks up from a kneeling position, her face mirroring young Jack's. She looks to the boy, who looks to her. Their eyes locked for a moment, Catrina all-but hears the youngster beg for help. She gives him a questioning look, and is rewarded with the faintest shake of his head to the negative.

An uncomfortable second passes. Two. Jack's oppressors begin binding his arms with rope.

"What a load of nonsense!" Catrina's voice shatters through the dull murmurs of shock and pointed silence of resignation alike. "Whoever gave you evidence engineered the event. For starters, bless his heart, Jack couldn't kill a man if he tried. Look at the lad's arms, for Besmara's sake! More importantly, Jack can't have killed a man while he was playin' spin, unless he's got a twin on board! He may be decent at cards, but nobody can be in two places at once! He was with us, late into the night, weren't he, Thysh? Go ask Kroop, if he can give you a straight word; he'll straighten it right, too!"

OhdearGodletmenotdieplease
[roll0]

[Starbin]

Hiss, scaled barbarian

When the day came to an end, the scaled beast slipped down the ropes and back to the deck. As if summoned, the long-haired one appeared not too far from where the lizard man descended. "About time! I've been waiting on your sorry arse!" The lizard man stopped and stared at the long-hair; it was obvious to anyone that Plugg could not have been waiting long. Long seconds passed until the man burst out, "Are you daft, dumb or both? Report!"

The black scaled monster paused for a moment, the yellow, unblinking eyes locked on Plugg's. Then they turned to the horizon, sweeping across and then back. It pointed up at the sails, then slowly shook its head in an exaggerated motion, almost as if Plugg were the dense one.

Plugg growled, "Fine, you stupid git. I didn't see you on the deck, so no lash ... Yet. But watch yourself, snake-boy, or I'll be wearing you for my boots." With a wave and a snarl, the man dismissed the scaled beast and turned to oversee the Bloody Hour.



The beast watched impassively as lashes were dealt out by the skinny human. It licked its lips once at the smell of blood, but otherwise just watched with its unblinking gaze. When the accusation happened, the lizard straightened up slightly, eyeing the smearing crew with its dead eyes. Even as one of the newcomers spoke out, it simply watched the others, watching their reactions.

[roll0], and a mighty [roll1]

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog (-1 Con, two days; DC +1)

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh is lost in thought when Cat calls on her, so she just nods along. She's more engrossed in the matter of how to discreetly heal her wounded crewmates. She'd more or less already written Jack off as dead and mentally moved on. Even now, she is more displeased with herself for not responding to Cat sooner rather than for not helping Jack.

Damn, almost let her down there. I already sort of owe her one from last night...

[3SecondCultist]

There is a dangerous silence aboard the Wormwood's main deck as everyone seems to look to Plugg in order to see if he'll believe Catrina's story. When Thysh appears to confirm it, his dark eyes narrow and his features revert to the scowl all of you recognize from when you first met him yesterday. He dare not dismiss such claims out of hand, not here. He knows - just as most of you know - that the sanctity of the Bloody Hour must be upheld, lest the captain get involved directly. Such intervention would hugely undermine Plugg's own authority. Whether or not he truly believes the red-haired woman's alibi, there is clearly enough doubt in the first mate's mind for him to forestay the sentence.

"... very well then! It seems that there is a lack of consensus as to who might have been responsible for Variel's death." Plugg is clearly thinking on his every word. "Until I can determine for sure who the guilty party - or parties - might be, we will forestall any punishment. Understood?" Scourge, for his part, looks across the deck at Catrina with an expression of barely-checked frustration. It's obvious that this outcome is not the one he favored, and judging by the way the lean man grits his teeth, it's not hard to imagine what kind of creative punishments he will devise for the adventurer-turned impressed sailor. Still, there's nothing he can do about it here and now, and so Scourge growls, turns on one heel, and storms away.

"My thanks, Bagrid. Did me a solid there, you did. If there's anything needs helping with, anything at all, you let me know!" Scrimshaw stops just short of hugging his rescuer, and gives a small nod at Thysh as well, breathing heavy sighs of relief at the prospect of living to see the next sunrise. All around you, the crew is dispersing - as it did yesterday, and will no doubt do in the days to come - into its groups as Kana prepares to serve the evening meal. Rosie Cusswell is looking at Petaba expectantly, and both Grok and Kroop are having a drink on the bow deck, the half-orc mostly carrying her large, rather inebriated friend around. Looking at the exhausted joy on everyone's features, it's hard to believe that a man was nearly sentenced to death just moments ago.

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba retrieves Tanner, nose wrinkling from the smell. From the looks of it, the lash had bitten deep. It wasn't surprising Tanner had dropped. A quick spell has the wound closing up. "Get on up now; there are still songs to be sung and terrible grog to be drunk."

He then nods at Rosie, and goes over to Grok. "I'd be grateful if I could go get Rosie's fiddle from your stores, along with my own belongings. A song from such a fine instrument would undoubtedly add some cheer."

[WalkingTheShade]

The whipping post

When the lash contacts his skin, Lodan lets out a pathetic scream before everything fades to black.

Then he feels something warm his body, and opens his eyes, disoriented. He blinks a few times at Petaba, until recognition settles in. "Oh, it's you. How did I take it? Where's my shirt?"

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

"I'd have to recommend you stay as far from whips as you can. They don't seem to agree with you." Petaba holds up the sodden cloth. "And you might want to hold off on putting this back on. All sort of putrescence can get into a wound."

[Farmerbink]

Catrina waits until Scourge turns his back to let her breath back out. She's got a good poker face, but nobody's completely comfortable going all in. Jack approaches, no longer in immediate danger of brutal mauling and probable death. "First thing you can help me with is getting this loud-mouthed, pyromanic oaf back to his cot." With another pair of hands, the task is still far from easy, but at least it's accomplished. If Jarred bleeds to death, everyone will know exactly where the misfortune took place....

Standing, breathing heavily, over her brother's unconscious form, Catrina turns to Jack. In the relative privacy of the sleeping berth, she jabs as his chest with a finger. "So first, if you played cards with us last night, you better know how to play the game. If he comes up and you don't know your way around a deck, we'll both be kissing the barnacles, get me?" She gives him a crash course on mechanics, which are simple enough, and has him walk through a few rounds in his mind before feeling satisfied that he's at least not completely inept.

"Second, someone wants you dead. Bad. I don't know who, and obviously you don't either. You have to find out, or all the help in the world won't keep an knife from twit your ribs. And then probably mine." She sighs.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

"You've got one task on this ship, and one only, until it's managed. I don't care who says what, or assigns what, if you don't spend every waking moment of the day trying to piece together who saw what, a couple lashes from Scourge will be the least of all our worries. I want you to talk to everyone you trust, and maybe even make a few friends out of the folks you don't. You're a nice enough kid, so it'll be telling if someone refuses to play nice, all by itself. Now come on, let's go drink more of that horse's piss that passes for alcohol around here. Despite how it may appear, I'm none too keen on feeling the lash, either."

For evening action, Catrina will go to sleep early. If possible, she'll swap her cup of grog with someone who's drunk most of theirs, and try to avoid the ration in-so-doing. I'm figuring that sleight of hand would be appropriate for such a task? [roll0] presumably vs someone's perception.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh makes her way to the grog/food table, and knocks back the drink, trying to ensure that as little of it as possible hits her taste buds. She then wanders off with a plate of food, trying to ignore the danger they're in if anyone figures out that Jack wasn't actually playing cards the night before.

Fortitude: [roll0]
Charisma Buff: [roll1]
Hours: [roll2]
Con Damage: [roll3]

The grog makes her feel like chatting, like talking with the others and hearing some stories. Unfortunately, by the time she's finished the food, the feeling has passed, and she feels tired. She makes her way down to the bunks, curling up in a corner. She can't quite help but sleep lightly, and every sounds wakes her up in a cold sweat, dreading a dagger in the dark. Nonetheless, each time she wakes, she falls back asleep quickly, and by dawn, she has somehow gotten a decent rest.

[WalkingTheShade]

Comfortably numb


"I'd have to recommend you stay as far from whips as you can. They don't seem to agree with you." Petaba holds up the sodden cloth. "And you might want to hold off on putting this back on. All sort of putrescence can get into a wound."
Lodan takes his shirt back without putting it on. "From what I understand, staying away from them is going to be hard: I'm due two more whippings in the next days." Lodan spits on the deck. "F!ck them." Petaba sees Lodan's hands are shaking. "I need a f!ckin' drink."

Lodan goes towards the grog keg, picks up a tankard, tries to calm his shaking to pour the grog without spilling it. No sense being whipped again for that. Lodan grabs some food (that, at least smells delicious). He goes to sit at the same spot as last evening. He eats first, then downs his drink.

Fortitude: [roll0], vs DC 7 since Lodan is already hooked.
Charisma Buff: [roll1]
Exhaustion (Lodan is already Fatigued from his daily task): [roll2] hours.
Con Damage: [roll3]

While it tastes as bad (if not worse) than the evening before, Lodan is finding an unexpected liking for the taste. The shaking subsides. Lodan feels slowed down and relaxed. He closes his eyes.

He must have dozed off, since there are a lot less people around when he wakes up. Yet, he feels refreshed. Seeing Bansion on deck, he goes towards her, knowing full well he shouldn't; in the state he's in, it only can make things worse. "So, we work together, but I get the whip when we screw up." Lodan smiles to her again; not that he believes it'd work; well, on a misunderstanding, maybe; who knows. "Now, way I see it, you owe me, but hey, since I'm a gentleman I'd settle for a dance together!" Worse. Idea. Ever.

Night action, Lodan tries to influence Bansion and miserably fails (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20923195&postcount=119).

[n0ble]

Best get this sh!te over with. She downs the grog in one gulp and has to stifle a sputter as it hits the back of her throat. "Ugh" The familiar light-headedness from the night before hits her, even as she tries to remedy the feeling with a piece of chicken. It does little to help. Easy to see why the fat man was so drowsy today. Don't know why he drinks the stuff though. Thoughts for tomorrow. The druid finds her way below deck, and goes to sleep.


Night Action: Going to bed.

[Starbin]

Hiss, scaled barbarian

With the die cast and won, the angry female took the red-haired one off with the youngling, most likely to mate. The rest of the crew moved off, ready for dinner and grog. The beast took its meal and almost swallowed it whole, then took the mug of grog ... And promptly poured it over the side when no one was looking. The foul liquid dulled the senses and tasted worse than three-day blood pie.

Moving about the deck, the black-scaled monstrosity looke for sport, anxious for another test ...

Hiss will look at Hog Lob ... What's that game all about?

Scored a 15 on the Stealth check to ditch the drink - Sneaky!

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog (-1 Con, two days; DC +1)

[3SecondCultist]

Grok quickly shushes Petaba when he brings up the fiddle out on the deck. She waits until she's sure that nobody is looking, and beckons him down the stairs to fetch the instrument from her stores next to the galley. The fiddle itself is undamaged, although its casing has a few extra dings on it that Cusswell might not appreciate. When Petabe returns it to her, however, she doesn't seem to care one bit about any of that. "F!ck, you did it. You f!cking did it. Didn't think I'd see my baby again! Well done, mate!" She claps the bard on the back, her previous tough facade melting away to reveal a genuine and gracious smile. Petaba knows that his actions have not only proven that Grok will take risks for him, but have earned him a true friend in Cusswell. The halfling immediately strolls down the main deck, strumming her fiddle... terribly. The sound is horribly off-key and quite offensive to the ears, but from the smile on Rosie's face, it doesn't seem to bother her all that much.

Lodan, on the other hand, does not seem to be sharing in his friend's luck. His attempts at diplomatic overtures in Bansion's direction are met with a cruel laugh and a dagger-like smirk. "When nobody's looking... when nobody's listening... that's when I'll gut you. I'll make it slow, little fish. Swim along now, while you can." If anything, Lodan's words have only irritated the woman more, and her trajectory takes her directly for Scourge and his complement. No doubt they will be sharing stories of Lodan's failed attempts at conquest tonight. What is in doubt is whether or not she will ever be receptive to the man's words again. Her threat seemed quite sincere, in fact.

By the time that Hiss approaches the pirates on deck for the games, most of the other new hires on the crew have turned in for the night. The Wormwood crashes on the rolling black waves, a small light flung forth into the darkness. The cheers of the pirates echo over the water, especially those who are still in the midst of tossing the fat-stained ingot across the deck. Of course, the nagaji proves an able hand at it, and while he doesn't really have anything to bet, he still manages to win most of the 'freebie' rounds he enters in for the rest of the evening. Of course, most of the pirates are wary not to bet against the nagaji when it comes to games at this point. Before too long, even they turn in, leaving only Hiss and those unfortunates who need to take up the night crew looking out at the stars. And there, in the half-light of the torches, Hiss spots a figure standing up on the quarterdeck: Captain Barnabas Harrigan himself. The muscled Garundi officer holds a glass of ale in his left hand, and his fingers drum on the gunwales with the right. Suddenly, his eyes meet those of the nagaji, almost glinting in their intensity. Hiss knows that to speak here means death. And then Harrigan is gone, just as he appeared, and Hiss is alone once more.

Alright, so I'll be making all of the important rolls for the next few in-game days in the OOC thread, starting with rolling for new assignments. We'll be skipping over days three and four, since nothing otherwise happens during those days that are considered 'noteworthy' for the purposes of this game. Once all of the rolls have been made (and I assume nobody dies from grog poisoning), I will make another IC that kind of sums up the actions of the days.

The ship actions will be the same ones we've already introduced. A couple of things to remember: first of all, you can only influence NPCs who are working near you. Consult the reference guide (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1Cs1__oWHDEckH-dFZ2YLXLMf1urg9mIzJY_yCsg4ouo/edit#gid=1790915790) I made to double check which NPCs are around if you're not sure - it's why I made the sheet in the first place. It makes my job and your jobs a lot easier. :smallsmile:

Secondly, don't forget to make use of your 'helpful' NPCs! I posted this on the Hangouts, but as the AP states, "Helpful NPCs can provide a +2 bonus on any single job task skill check made by a PC, provided the NPC has ranks in the appropriate skill. These NPCs provide aid not only during the day, but also at night, providing a +2 bonus on checks to influence other NPCs, or on checks for pirate games and entertainments. Helpful NPCs are also happy to lend money or equipment (up to half their ready cash) or perform other actions at your discretion". So any NPC whose attitude has reached 'helpful' (which at this point are Jack Scrimshaw and Rosie Cusswell) can be called upon to give a +2 bonus on any skill check. Use them wisely.

Oh, and as of this second failed attempt on Lodan's part, Aretta Bansion can no longer be influenced by any of you. It seems the dice gods have spoken on this matter, and it gives me an even better reason for keeping her around as one of Scourge's crew until the eventual mutiny.

[DarkOne-Rob]

When Jarred comes back to the land of the waking, it is with the half-orc taking his hands away from the prone red-head cautiously. "Thanks...I guess I owe you one. You get in a bind and need someone to fight for you, let me know," he growls sullenly before finding the small bowl of food and cup of water Catrina left by him. Turning away from his healer, Jarred inhales the food and drains the cup before rolling over and passing into a deep, dreamless sleep.
---------------

The following morning find Jarred feeling much better. At the morning assignment he nods to both Jack Scrimshaw and Petaba before moving to his assignment of repairs. Unfamiliar with the work, Jarred makes no effort to hide his confusion, enlisting Jack's aid more than once during the long day but enjoying the opportunity to sit and work without exhausting himself. When Scourge inspects Jarred's handiwork it passes his strict expectations, eliciting a resigned sigh from the large, muscular man.

Before the Bloody Hour arrives Jarred approaches Thysh, saying, "Hey, Blue - you don't have much reason to want to help me, but I expect the lash to knock me out again today. If you have any healing magic and help out with a quick 'pick-me-up' when Scourge is done, I will owe you a favor. Interested?"

As predicted, after two of the bosun's lashes "Red" falls to the deck, once again taking the punishment silently. His unconscious groans make it obvious that he continues to live, despite the large red welts on his back...

[Farmerbink]

Swabbing is tough work, that's for sure. However, it's hardly any tougher than scrounging for food around the piers of Port Peril as a teenage girl. Come evening, it'd be overstating things to say the deck shined, but it's in no danger of delivering a splinter or becoming sodden. It may not earn her a smile, but at least it staves off the lash.

Catrina winces and groans quietly as Jarred falls under the lash. She offers a smile to Thysh, and a quiet, simple, "thanks," as she revives her brother.

The Catrina who saunters down to the mess, however, is a totally different woman than most have seen before. With a grin, she heartily devours her cup of grog, and balances the empty mug on the back of her hand for a moment before dumping it unceremoniously with its companions. With the air of a woman on a mission, Catrina approaches Grok.

"Look," she whispers. "I know we didn't start off on the right foot, but I figure I should let you know a little about me. See, my birth was... exciting..." She goes on, telling the true story of shipwrecks and drowned crew amidst the inexplicable survival of the Bagrids and only a few others. After all, the best lies are all based on truth. Still, the embellishments are subtle, and believable. Before long, the superstitious quartermaster all-but drools along with the tale. Eventually, satisfied that she's made her point, Catrina lets the half-orc guide her to the stores.

[n0ble]

After the past two days the third passes like a nice sea breeze for Kana. Kroop appeared to have regained his facilities enough to power through the day of cooking on his own. Maybe he's making up for lost time. Whatever his reason he doesnt seem to need much help beyond the odd retrieval of spices and flavouring. Instead Kana occupies the day by talking to him about the hooch he drinks. If anything it's a gap in her knowledge that should probably be filled. Grotto Elders weren't exactly keen on spirits. "So Kroop, what's your poison of choice? Besides the piss grog that is..."

The rest of the day passes much in the same way for Kana. Any illusions of comfort and security are shattered as the Red-hair is lashed again during the bloody hour. Back to reality. And the piss grog. Kana repeats the exact same drinking technique she did the night before, downing the cup in one swift motion. It doesn't taste any better than it did over the last two days but not any worse either. With that, she goes off to bed again to dream of waves and storms. Not like anyone wants to talk with me anyways...

[WalkingTheShade]

The worn out swab

The day passes in a haze. Lodan is owed two more lashes, so why does he put all he has into swabbing the deck? He's going to get whipped anyway tonight. Damn Scourge! Damn Plugg! And damn Bansion too. At least, the others get their share of the whip, too. Well, except for the redhead swabbing the deck below. How does she do it? She works like it's nothing, finds time to chat here and there. Whatever. When the Bloody Hour is announced, Lodan doesn't care anymore about leaving his section of the deck unfinished. He barely knows who or where he is anymore.

[Starbin]

Hiss, scaled barbarian

As others made their way to bed for the night, the beast found triumph in sport once more, earning victory in throwing the greased ingot. But after it won, the rest of the crew wandered off, leaving the beast alone on the deck. After a few moments of enjoying the night breeze, a figure appeared on the quarterdeck - the alpha male of this lot. The lizard man stared, meeting the man's gaze for long moments before the Captain turned and left.

Pausing only for a moment, the scaled beast returned to its cot and slept the rest of the evening.

The next day, the lizard was sent back up into the ropes, with instructions to clear lines and tie of loose ropes. No sailor, the beast slipped up the ropes and began working - amazingly enough, it seemed to handle the right ropes instinctively. Upon the start of the bloody hour, it had managed to avoid the lash yet again.

As the grog was handed out, the monster walked to the side and poured the poison out ... well within sight of Scourge. In seconds, the beast was hauled back to the deck, a 'special' lashing session for the crew. The whip snapped out repeatedly, hitting the beast over and over. It seemed to swell, its muscles growing while it let out a sinister, silibant hiss as it took the pain. Finally the whip stopped, the leather falling to the deck as the beast still stood, amazingly enough. It glared back at the skinny man for a moment, then swept across the crew, before the beast lumbered off swiftly, disappearing into the darkness of below deck ...

Well, that sucked!

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +4 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: none

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba turns his attention to the red-haired man next. He might be an ass, but healing him would put the man in Petaba's debt, and possibly irk Scourge. That was worth a bit of magic. Another healing chant over the man, and the lash marks begin to lessen.



The grog tastes fouler than usual that night. Even Rosie's terrible playing couldn't distract Petaba from the poison he was drinking. It felt like a punch in the gut. He goes to Grok "I'd care to get my belongings back you, if you'd be so inclined." A smiling Rosie points out the benefits of giving such a helpful person as Petaba his things.



Swabbing the bilges is miserable work. With a bit of help from Rosie, pointing out the finer nuances of the filthy task, Petaba manages it well-enough. He certainly makes no friends with Badger though, splashing about and generally taking far too long on the task. By the time he is done, Petaba is thoroughly exhausted.

[DarkOne-Rob]

After Petaba uses some healing magic to revive Jarred he thanks him curtly and excuses himself to go get dinner. "Two, I suppose..."

He does not drink the swill they call grog, instead deftly pouring his glass off the side of the ship. Then he makes his way to a table where he speaks with a one-eyed gnome named Giffer Tibbs until the crew begins to go to their racks for the night. When he approaches Grok, attempting to enlist her aid, she rebuffs him entirely. Obviously frustrated and angry, he makes his way to the top deck where he spends the night sleeping in a corner behind several large barrels.

[Sen isSaqqara]

The third day of her new shipbound career is a haze to Thysh. The last night's grog hangs heavy over her mind, leaving it wandering as it did in her youth. As the day wears on, and the fog begins to lift, she finds herself realising that she has almost certainly failed to meet Scourge's requirements of her today. She faces her whipping with resigned apathy, and catches herself looking forward to the night's drink. She'll have to keep a close eye on herself if she wants to avoid slipping into a dangerous pattern with the grog. Luckily, it doesn't seem to be having much of a long-term effect on her, at least not yet.

[3SecondCultist]

For the vast majority of you, the third day on board the Wormwood elapses just like the others. The tasks are quickly becoming routine: moving large hauls of rope from place to place, fixing bulkheads, splintered masts and yardarms, patching sails, running messages from one deck to the next, cleaning out the terrible bilges below... this ship has no shortage of work to do, and Scourge's squinty gaze follows most of you as the sun completes a third full cycle over the waves. But today, a few of you are too tired or have been run dry by the liquor, and your imminent failures have been brought to the attention of those in charge.

"Come on then, ye know the drill! Step up, landlubbers!" Today's Bloody Hour docket is quite full, and Scourge seems especially ready to dole out some punishment. As per usual, Plugg oversees the events from the poop deck, although today he is accompanied by two other officers you've seen around the deck: the first is a harsh looking, dark-skinned woman with tight black hair bound in a bun and a peg leg. Her companion is a rake thin man with long blond hair, a smile that could cut glass, and a truly impressive array of knives. They all watch as first Lodan, than Jarred, and then Thysh are hauled up along with the rest of those who have failed their duties upon the Wormwood today.

The games at night are subdued, most of the ship's crew preferring to confer amongst themselves. Both Scrimshaw and Shortstone seem to have helped in bringing Giffer Tibbs into the fold, as the female gnome joins those of you who are still ambulatory during the evening, drawing a few stares from Plugg and Scourge's contingent in the meantime. Still, it's a good start. It's clear to those aboard that your faction is growing every day, but you will need to work to consolidate those who have joined your camp. A face next to Scourge confirms your fears: the three-fingered halfling by the name of 'Ratline' Rattsburger is the newest of the bosun's recruits. Before too long, the Wormwood will be divided into two camps.

You can only hope that you'll have enough allies when Scourge decides it's time for all of you to go.


Eventually, the morning bell shatters your respective reveries and calls you back into service. A day unlike those you have had before awaits those of you who travel abovedecks: the golden sun and sky have been replaced by a grim, wispy dawn. On your starboard side and far away, you can see the outline of a rocky shore. Two flying figures patrol the cliffs, and although it's too far away to be sure, both of them appear to be draconic in origin. A few of the riggers and those swabs working abovedecks - namely, Cusswell, Tibbs, and Jaundiced Jape - all pay attention to the shapes as they swoop over the waves, but they never approach.

"Come on, ye dogs! Back to work, 'fore I've got a chance to flay the lot of ye!" Scourge is his usual self, although there's an edge in his voice this morning. Being too close to the island is clearly making all of the Wormwood's sailors a little ill at ease: asking around, you catch word that it's the coast of the dread Dahak's Teeth, the domain of the red wyrm Ashaaq, and her living cult. Whatever prize Harrigan is chasing, he has certainly chosen an interesting route to get there. Still, there isn't a lot of time for rumination, as all of you are directed to your individual tasks for the day.

[WalkingTheShade]

The reluctant swab

Waking up, Lodan feels utterly demoralized. He's the last one on deck this morning. "Yes sir," he answers to Scourge, yet with less heart than the previous days.

He goes to swab and swabbing he does. After an hour, under the morning light, he feels even more demoralized. At least the day is less sunny and cooler than before. Then, he remembers Petaba's singing on the first day. The only song that comes to him is not a sea shanty. More of a sad ballad with a catchy tune. Whatever, it's better than nothing. It'll take his mind from the mindless task.


It's too cold to sleep tonight.
We could freeze to death I warn.
It's so hard to want to fight,
When you wish you were never born.

This time you're gonna have to choose,
You can stick with me, but you're gonna lose,
But it's the same thing that I hear,
Ya can't go home and ya can't stay here.
Ya can't go home and ya can't stay here.
Lodan whistles the instrument's part. Doing so, he wonders why he's still putting any effort into the task. Even if he works well enough, he'll keep getting whipped anyway, for who knows how many days.


And I'd do anything it takes.
I wish that I could change it all.
But I'll drown in the pain of my mistakes,
Cause when I'm done searching, you know I'm gonna fall.
As Lodan's scrubbing, a crew woman with a bucket of dead rats passes on the deck. She throws the bucket's contents overboard, humming along to his song. Lodan stops working to look at her. She hasn't noticed him, she smiles towards the sea, breathing in the breeze, leaning on the bulwark. She must be in a good mood. When she turns to go back down, Lodan catches her eye; she sings along the next few words. Lodan is pleased to notice she knows them.


We'll get a bottle to keep us warm,
A little ****in' shelter from the wicked storm,
But it's the same thing that I hear,
Ya can't go home and ya can't stay here.
Ya can't go home and ya can't stay here.
The woman goes back below, back to her task. Lodan keeps to his task for a few more hours. But then, he just decides to rush the job. Who cares? Lodan doesn't care about the Wormwood's deck. Scourge doesn't care either, or he'd put someone better than Lodan at this task. Plugg certainly doesn't care either, or he'd replaced Scourge. And onward and upward the chain of command to the captain.

A couple hours before the Bloody one, after finishing his rushed job, Lodan waits for a moment Scourge is not on the main deck and goes down to look for the singing woman.

He finds her quite fast. "Hey, I know, I know, shouldn't be here, right? I'll get whipped tonight anyway. Thought I could get out of the wind until then. And since I'm here, I may as well help on your task. What do you say?"

Not a pirate song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gAVK_LaIJEE), but it fits the mood. Well as long as Lodan only sings the screamier parts : P
Just before the Bloody Hour, Lodan goes to find Petaba at his repairs. "Hey mate. About last night's grog, let's say, incident, be reassured that I harbor no hard feelings. However, I'd appreciate some help this evening. This time, when I pass out, please drag me to my hammock, before you wake me up. And, oh, do you have a knife? Please lend me one once you've woken me up. That Bansion woman, she threatened me; they made that elf disappear. I'd rather have a weapon on me for the night."

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Day finds Petaba nauseous, and by the time he makes it to deck, he is retching freely. This is what happens when you drink spoiled grog. Even greener than usual, he feels relieved to be assigned to repair work. Maybe the day won't be so bad after all.

Petaba's hopes are soon dashed, however. The constant nausea has him seeing double, and he nearly faints once. He has to redo almost all of his work multiple times, but never manages to produce a bit of acceptable work. His stoic determination and a few pithy, self-deprecating remarks earn some appreciative body language from the silent Shivikah. The stolen mask, of course, hides any facial expressions.

Scourge gives a wicked smile when he spots Petaba's shoddy work. "It looks like I'll be having to remind of the value of workmanship at Bloody Hour, mongrel." He caresses the whip at his side as if it were his child and walks away with a jaunty step. He'd have yet another victim to take out his nerves on.



Lodan finds a less-queasy Petaba looking at the ruined remains of a rope. "Aye, I'll limp there myself with your broken self. I suspect Scourge is going to have a time upon us. And I'll lend you a length of steel to drive into these brutes. If they come for you, at least they'll have a fight on their hands."

[Farmerbink]

Catrina wakes feeling better than she's felt since they were impressed into "service" on this hell of a ship. Nothing can replace the sometimes inexplicable feeling of a light shirt of chain and a blade at your hip. She makes no effort to showcase the item's appearances, but nonetheless her sudden change of garb is noteworthy, to say the least.

She crawls from her cot, and hurries to the top deck. There, she finds Jarred, and pointedly walks over to where her brother awaits their assignments for the day. "So, it'd be suicide to oppose Plugg and Scourge openly..." she carefully whispers. A glint in her eye belies how she feels about the prospect. She shrugs into her armor and rolls her shoulders back, allowing the flicker of chain beneath her overshirt to speak for itself. She smiles. Nothing's going to ruin a day like this. They just think they've seen what Catrina Bagrid can do...

Catrina dives into her task of running messages with the eagerness that only honest excitement and self-challenge can bring. Despite the added weight, she finds herself moving freely and comfortably- easily relaying the messages faster than the days prior. More than a few times, she passes a bald-headed man with an odd scarf tied about his pate- as he goes about the same task.

On one such occasion, she steps in front of him to have a brief chat, despite his less-than-inviting expression. "Oh, hold on, then, would you? I've been on this worthless skiff too long to be scared of meeting unfriendly faces. What is it you do, anyway?" The first pass goes about as effectively as you might think. A dull stare precedes him shoving past the athletic girl, and going about his business. Stunned, Catrina fails to impede his movement, and he dashes off up a flight of stairs.

They pass again- this time on the top deck. He smirks as they approach each other, his posture one of smug expectation. I don't think so, smartass.

Catrina moves to walk by, before at the last moment throwing the sheathe of her rapier between his legs. As he trips, sprawling to the deck, she pounces on him, and deftly twists a wrist near the base of his skull. Face down on the deck, before most of the crew, with little more than a girl pinning him by his wrist, he writhes for just a moment before slapping the surface of the ship, the well-known sign of concession. Instead of letting him up, Catrina laughs. "You already had a chance for that, tough guy! I Said, what is it you do around this ship?" She holds his wrist until given an answer, before smiling and giving his substantially muscled forearms a gentle squeeze. "Hell's bells, man. Remind me to never spar against you in a fair fight. I like to keep my arms in their sockets, thanks..." She crawls off the man, and lets him rise. Smirking, she asks, "no hard feelings, Bruiser?"

Nothing is going to ruin this day.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Two flying figures patrol the cliffs, and although it's too far away to be sure, both of them appear to be draconic in origin...

...asking around, you catch word that it's the coast of the dread Dahak's Teeth, the domain of the red wyrm Ashaaq, and her living cult.
With excitement and enthusiasm he has not yet shown Jarred gazes out at the dragons and their riders. "To be so close to my kin! And powerful ones at that!" he says, mostly to himself but loudly for anyone near him to hear. "They aren't just dragons, but reds! Just being this close makes me want to leap overboard and swim to them, as suicidal as that would be..." Turning away without enthusiasm, he listens to his assignment for the day.

Working on deck he is unusually quiet, not even joining in Lodan's melancholy song. Instead he works diligently, looking over the side towards the isles every chance he gets as he watches for the great wyrms he so reveres.


"So, it'd be suicide to oppose Plugg and Scourge openly..."
With a shake of his head Jarred mutters, "I wouldn't even say it out loud..."

When his sister tackles "Bruiser" to the deck he smiles in amusement, shaking his head and looking away from the drakes for only a moment. "And you say I make friends strangely," he quips as she passes.

As Bloody Hour approaches he makes it a point to find each of the healers on ship, repeating his offer of alliance in exchange for their magic, "...after I am safely in my hammock, not before. I have no interest in that poison they force us to drink. If you heal me before, I will take offense and you lose any favors I owe you, understand?"

He passes out on the second lash, Scourge's namesake biting into his back yet again and leaving his silently bleeding on the deck.

[n0ble]

Kana pays the Red-hair little mind as she makes her way down to the galley. Impressive they might have been but nowhere near as much as the luscas the grotto worshipped. As she arrives Kroop seems much more alert and chipper then his conduct the previous day would have suggested. The she notices the open bottle of hooch next to a cleaver. Theres a second one, unopened right next to it. The hulking cook idly gestured to it and then to her. It's clear what he expects of her. Or maybe he's just being friendly. Volunteer for a bad position, get stupid prizes.

As she scoops up the bottle and uncorks it, Kroop starts in on some sort of sea story. "You ever hear the one about Captain Stoneheart and the Truth Fairy?..." Between chugging down the bottle and boredom, it's all Kana can do to pay attention. When a break in the story comes, she stumbles through a boozy haze to the quartermaster in an effort to try and request back her gear. "Hullo, may I ask how you know Kroop? You too seem to go faraways back." She accompanies the words with a lopsided grin, hoping it'll do more to endear her to Grok then it did Kroop.

Kroop was most certainly insensibly drunk, which meant that she could snag some useful stuff from the Kitchen. Maybe a weapon or something. As it turned out the cook seemed so engrossed in his drunken tale that he failed to notice a meat cleaver, five knives, a short sword and a wooden leg with with a nifty silver band all go missing from his galley. Kana stowed them down in her locker for safe keeping before returning to the galley to catch the end of the story.

Diplomacy to influence Grok, with the charisma from the extra grog ration [roll0]


Nighttime

Amidst all the whipping, Kana manages to heft her grog over the side of the ship. The afternoon's drinking had done enough to her already, she didn't need more of the swill. She overhears the Red-hair talking to the others about when to heal him. If there was any truth to her job as cook's mate, it was that she was isolated from everyone else. The time for self-reliance was drawing to a perilous end. Besides, the Red-hair's bluster could distract others from her. Well that and he already owed her. Much as she hated to, Kana had to reach out to someone. The whippings were a good opportunity in that regard.

She moved purposefully to his form on the deck before lifting and grabbing one of his ankles, rather unceremoniously dragging him below deck to a hammock. Once there, she placed a hand on his wounds and let whatever power was inside out into him. She stood around long enough for him to wake up before abruptly shoving a meal into his hands.Best you remember that Red-hair.


Casting Cure Light Wounds on Jarred, after the grog as specified: [roll1]

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred rubs the back of his head tenderly, looking up at the woman before him. "Nine Hells, I don't suppose you could have taken care of the knot on the back of my skull, huh? I don't remember having one of those the last several nights...did I fall backwards?" he mutters sullenly. At the sight of the dinner in Kana's hands he carefully sits up and takes it from her with a grudging nod of thanks. "So, I owe you two favors now, huh? You planning to pick a fight or something?"

As he carefully eats he looks at the woman sitting before him and purses his lips. "You're not much of a talker so far, which means you either don't have much to say or are afraid to say much. Around here I could understand being afraid to talk - there aren't many trustworthy blokes on this floating carcass. But you get to hang below decks with Kroop out of sight of Scourge and Plugg most of the day, so that's got to be alright...Is something on your mind?"

[n0ble]

It would have been better to leave once the Red-hair acknowledged the favour he owed her. Her face was a slight scowl as she spoke "I am not afraid of them. Live under a lash long enough and you get used to it's sting. And how to avoid it in the first place...". She trailed off, unsure of what to say next. Scourge didn't scare her. He was just a man with a whip. Take the whip away, you take his power away. Something about Plugg hit a bit too close to home though. Too many parallels. A couple of the scars on her back started to itch at the memories.

It was odd that he hadn't shouted at her or blustered about like he'd done with Lodan. Maybe he was just after something or maybe it was just that the lashings had driven the piss out of his talk. Either way it was a good time to cement things with him. Kana looked over from her cross legged position and cocked her head to one side. "What were those things that got you so excited today? The red sky-lizards." The question was probably the most genuine thing she'd said since being press ganged. Growing up in an underwater Grotto that fixated on Luscas and nature hadn't exactly leave much room for talking about... whatever the red flying things were. If she was being roped into a conversation with the Red-hair at least she might be able to learn something about a new type of animal.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"There's not much difference between being afraid of something that can hurt you and being smart - it's all in how you react. You have avoided the lash better than me, though I'll bet it helps to be out of sight so much," replies Jarred at first, arguing naturally but not angrily. He watches her again for a moment before she asked about the dragons and then smiled broadly.

"They were true dragons, the mightiest of creatures and next to the gods in power and influence! It was dragons that first discovered the Words of Power that man would eventually turn into magic spells, though most self-styled 'wizards' use bastardized, rote formulas instead of the pure arcanas. I have dragon blood flowing in my veins, and one day I will join the wyrms as an equal, or better!" He looks like he could continue for hours, his passion very nearly religious in fervor.

There is a gleam of avarice in his eyes that sparkles in the darkness wickedly, but he makes no threatening moves or gestures as he converses. Instead, at one point he says, "Look - owing a debt is akin to exchanging power between two willing partners. You have some magic of your own, and I owe you two favors. That means you are under my protection until I have repaid you. Until then, you are mine, and I defend what is my own. If any of the crew moves to hurt you, call for me. I cannot protect you from the lash should Scourge or Plugg decide you deserve it, but I will not let others hurt you. Do you understand?"

This is not a sexual thing. Instead it is an expression of Jarred's draconian avarice, transferred to Kana subconsciously.

Of course, Kana is welcome to react however she wants, including being offended or feeling threatened. I just want to be sure it is clear what is really going on here so no one is uncomfortable in real life.

[Sen isSaqqara]

The fourth day wears on slowly for Thysh, and she spends most of it sitting in a corner, quietly coiling rope. She finds it to be almost therapeutic, the repetitive motions allowing her to lose herself in the work. It gives her time to think.

She has been too withdrawn, these last few days. She hasn't spent enough time with the others, instead withdrawing into her own mind. The irony of arriving at this conclusion while moping introspectively is not lost on her. Further, she has been enjoying her drinks far too much. She decides to try her best not to lose herself in it tonight.

When night comes, she takes her ration of grog hesitantly, steeling herself before downing it. It still hits her, and she feels it loosening her mind, but she concentrates on not enjoying the experience. To her slight and muted surprise, she succeeds in feeling disgusted with the effects of the drink. She allows herself a quick mental pat on the back.

As the evening wears on, she relaxes and sits back, listening to the others chat. For now, she'll stay out of the conversation, but she at least takes in what the others discuss. She remains on deck like this for some time, just listening and relaxing, before excusing herself and heading to sleep. She is feeling good about life, and falls asleep with a grin on her face.

[n0ble]

Kana's scowl lightens as Red-hair explains what the beasts are. Instead she listens to him talk, sitting in her patient cross legged position. She loses a bit of interest as blathers on about words and magic but manages to snap up her attention as he mentions having their blood in his veins and being equal to them in power. Strange company you've found Kana. Very strange. She only interrupt's once, to warily ask a question. "The Blackscale. The big one in the rigging. He like you?" Truth be told she hadn't really seen anything like that hulking thing either. Maybe the Red-hair was familiar.

At the mention of being his Kana exhaled sharply and angrily. Her eyes narrowed, then wrenched shut. Her scowl re-deepened and the scars started to itch all over again. I. Am. Nobodies! Not now, not ever again. As the thought surged through her mind the air around both of them got more crisp as electrical currents pulsed through it. Neveragainneveragainneveragain! To anyone watching, it would seem like she was in a moderate amount of pain after Jarred's words.

As the energy bled out of her, the anger left along with it, just as quickly and suddenly as it'd built up. He was not Coal Dark. He was a potential ally.An alliance. Safety in numbers. At least... for a little while. The orca doesn't swim alone.

Her features softened. She nodded, not curtly like she'd been doing before, but a full nod of agreement. "Yes. Soon I will have my staff and armour back from the half-orc. When I do, let me know if you need aid too, whether in terms of healing or cracked skulls." After all, what good was he going to be at protecting her if he was bleeding out from getting shanked in the kidney?


Tobe clear she's not mad at Jarred, just at the concept of being owned again as it's a rather sore point for her.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"The Blackscale. The big one in the rigging. He like you?"
"Only marginally - he is reptilian and speaks the dragons' tongue, but he has not shown any of their bloodline. I am human, like you, but with a proud and dangerous heritage too! Many generations ago..."


"Yes. Soon I will have my staff and armour back from the half-orc. When I do, let me know if you need aid too, whether in terms of healing or cracked skulls."
"She still holds my property as well, but I have not had need of it yet. They only left me this mirror when we were pressed, but I am not unarmed. Dragon's blood is a weapon in its own right..."

Good deal - I thought that would both get a good reaction from Kana and demonstrate draconian rendancies from Jarred. :smallcool:

[Starbin]

Hiss, scaled barbarian

The black-scaled beast spent another day in the upper riggings, seemingly oblivious to the dark looks and sidelong glances given by the other riggers. Focused on its tasks, the beast was everywhere at once, catching onto what 'rope work' was all about. Of course, it was really just a way to pass the time before the whip came out.

At the Bloody Hour, the lizard man stepped up first, as the skinny man smiled evilly, anxious to lay into the beast that had withstood his whipping. Three times the whip cracked. Three times, it cut the beast's skin. Three times Scourge watched for the inevitable sign of weakness. But the whole time, the black-scaled creature watched with half-lidded eyes glowing with murderous anger. Once the lash fell silent, the beast snarled, then walked past one of the stunned crew members at the grog station. Grabbing a mug, it swallowed the swill in one gulp as it disappeared into the darkness below deck.

Was it licking its wounds? Or laying in wait for the poor bastich that tried to follow? None above knew, although perhaps those already below might find out the hard way ...

Pre-coordinated with the GM for poetic licenses :smallsmile:

And I figure anyone below decks might see Hiss slip off to pass out ... Like Jarred or Kana?

HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +4 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -2 Con

[n0ble]

Bloodlines? Kana shook the thoughts from her head. Questions for a later time. For now she had something for the Red-hair. "You won't have to use your power. Leastways not unless you want to." She produced one of the knives from her person. She'd thought about taking out the peg leg and showing it to him as well. The idea of getting it appraised was...tempting. But something about how he'd said the word mine made Kana have second thoughts. So instead she just gave him the knife. "Not much. Better than fists though. Should do till we get our stuff back proper." she punctuated the statement by sliding another knife into her own boot for safe keeping. One for each of us. The others were on her person, while the fake leg, shortsword and axe were all in her locker. Best to keep those a secret too. At least for now.


"She seems a piece of work, but Kroop at least seems amicable to her. Least when he's not piss drunk. I'll see if I can talk to him about getting stuff back from her." After conversing for a little while longer, Kana began to feel a heaviness settle into her flesh. Bedtime if ever there was a sign of it. She politely excused herself and found a separate area to sleep in.


That was a lot of fun to talk/RP out! :smallsmile: I'm looking forward to the other, future conversations even more now :smallsmile:

[3SecondCultist]

Something in the Bilges (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PrRkfGKCAG0&index=7&list=PL2lEMhX9H6tkKH24e2eSqt6QBkq-Jfru9)

The fifth dawn is everything its predecessor was not: muggy, with next to no wind. Dahak's Teeth is on the horizon somewhere far astern, little more than a haze. The air teems with sweat; you can feel it on your brows the moment you leave your hammocks and your feet hit the deck. All of yesterday's progress - those of you like Catrina and Petaba who have successfully turned some otherwise not so friendly heads, like Thysh who has managed to avoid the lash, like Kana who has uncovered secret stashes of goods - seems so immaterial under the duress of the sun. The Wormwood lists along with a kind of lazy air, and it's all you can take not to inhale the salt on your tongues. The rock-hard breakfast biscuits are little comfort, although there are those among the ship's crew who are taking to splitting up their portions and rationing them over the course of the morning in order to absorb more moisture. Even Scourge seems drained by the current atmosphere, although it doesn't seem to stop him from starting to assign you your tasks for the day.

The bosun doesn't get halfway down the line when he is suddenly interrupted.

Several of the Wormwood's crew stare as a bloody sailor limps up from belowdecks. It's Jack Scrimshaw, and the man is bleeding from several small jagged-looking wounds on his body. His face is quite ashen, and he shoots a grave glance at Catrina before calling over Mr. Plugg from the bow. The first mate is all business, his face clenching in obvious frustration and mouth twisting into a ferocious snarl. He looks over at all seven of you, the gears in the back of his mind evidently turning. He locks gazes with the red-headed woman before making up his mind. "All of you - I need you to investigate the bilges, straight away! I don't care what it was you were doing today, you can stow your other tasks. Don't bother coming back out until it's been cleared, savvy?" Scrimshaw, for his part, clearly seems willing to speak more on the subject, but Scourge wastes no time sending the young man to the Stitchman, the ship's surgeon. It's evident that whatever is down there, Plugg wants it dealt with right away, entertaining no questions on the matter. For the first time, all of you have been left to your own devices.

Any of you listening in closely on Scrimshaw's report to Plugg can hear that the former was on rat-catching duty when a few large vermin swam out of the barley crates down in bilges and bit him. There are at least six of them down there, probably more.

[WalkingTheShade]

The angry whipping post

Lodan wakes up in his hammock, back crawling with a tingling sensation, Petaba above him. The half-orc silently deposes a dagger on Lodan's chest. "A word of advice, go around this evening, quietly asking the crew if anyone's seen your dagger. Say you must have misplaced it during your repairs today. Oh, and if anyone asks, you didn't heal me before next morning. I asked you for healing earlier in the day, but since I had nothing to trade in, you refused. Then in the morning, you took pity of my moaning. Alright?" Lodan deftly slips the dagger down a boot, next to his healing kit.

For the next hours, Lodan pretends to be alternatively asleep and in deep pain, letting out long quiet moans as he turns in his sleep. He thinks of what he's going to do, mentally rehearsing every step. All the while, he tells himself he shouldn't do it and, for a moment, he thinks he won't and starts to fall asleep.

But then the faces of Plugg, Scourge and Bansion leap back at him and he's suddenly awake. If it wasn't for lantern light dimly filtering from the main deck, it'd be pitch black down here. Lodan listens; sounds of crew asleep, some snoring, some breathing noisily; all seems calm. Lodan very slowly turns in his hammock. He stands up. He's decided he'll go through with it. As he walks slowly through the crew's quarter, men and women gently swung around by swell and heave, Lodan conjures away any thought of that man keelhauled on that very first day. Yet, not far from the exit of crew's quarter, something crunches noisily under Lodan's boot. Lodan freezes in place, biting his lip not to swear. He hears some crew member moving, one asking a drunk and sleepy "who's there". One other sits in her hammock and Lodan's certain she's noticed him in the darkness. Yet, she doesn't call out on him and Lodan hears her complaining, recognizing Tilly's voice: "damn you, Cogward, if it's you snoring so loudly, I swear I'll throw you overboard!"

Lodan uses the distraction to slip away towards the middle deck. He silently walks towards the kegs, dagger in hand. He prepares his blade to puncture a keg; footsteps; someone's coming. Damn. A sentry? Hard to say if the steps are from this level or the deck above. Lodan feels his resolve weakening. He's fine with taking risks, but not stupid enough to get caught without having the time to finish it. He melds back into the darkness.

Lodan goes back to the crew's quarters, stopping to make sure the hubbub's died out again. He quietly slips back into his hammock.


Lodan's sleepy and confused in the morning, not realizing what's going on. "Sir, bilges again, sir!" As everyone starts moving around, Lodan just starts registering that Scrimshaw was actually wounded. Supposing it's not a bad fall in the stairs, there might be something that attacked him in the bilges. Not only it's going to be as dirty as last time, but also more dangerous. Great. Lodan scowls as he goes towards the quartermaster's shop. "Guess I'll need a weapon," he says to the others, and when his eyes meet Petaba's, he remembers the dagger, still in his boot, and last night's botched attempt. He gives a silent look towards Scourge and Plugg. Keep cool, breathe, nobody's noticed yet you have it out for them. It's a dish best served cold. Yet, the sooner, the better.

Forgot the CON check for the dead-of-night action: [roll0], vs DC 14.
Listen, [roll1].

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Bloody Hour

Petaba hardly flinches as the lash cuts his skin. One stroke wasn't so bad, right? It was clear that Scourge wanted to inflict more punishment, but he was at least somewhat constrained. He couldn't just whip a man to death because he felt like it.


Nighttime

"Aye. What could I do but take pity on such a miserable specimen as yourself?" Petaba says to Tanner. "Besides, I need you hale and hearty to take some of Scourge's attention," he continues with a laugh.

Petaba returns to the hold for his daily forced ration of rotgut. He tries to tell a cheery tale to any who will listen, but fails miserably. It just wasn't possible to get in the mood for something positive while standing in line for poison. As he take his cup in hand under Scourge's watchful eye, he can do little but stare down at the stuff in dread. And idea comes to him. "Hey, Rosie, stand in front of me a moment, would you? And play your lovely fiddle for all she is worth." Rosie nods and takes an open spot on the deck, and plays a screeching, discordant tune that sounds like the cry of the unloved child of a banshee and a harpy. By the gods, that poor instrument. Still, with Rosie providing a distraction, even for a moment, Petaba finds a crate to step behind, where he dumps the grog. None for me tonight, thank you.


Morning of the Fifth Day

Petaba wakes dreading the day. The bad grog didn't seem to be affecting him anymore, so that was something. Scourge was about to assign him some undoubtedly unpleasant task when Scrimshaw runs up. Petaba has a moment of relief until he hears the mention of rats. Rats were terrible. Nasty creatures that stole food, bit everything they got near, and carried disease. Petaba hated the vermin. From the sound of Scrimshaw's report, these weren't the ordinary ones either - they were the big kind, the particularly mean sort.

It only gets worse when the newest "recruits" get sent down to hunt the critters. Petaba is extraordinarily glad for his friendship with Grok at that moment. His sword and armor might be what saved him from a feverish death. That, and the fact there were quite a few others for the rats to eat going with him.

[Farmerbink]

For the second (or was it third?) time, Catrina finds herself deftly switching cups with a crew member on their third or fourth. With just enough swill left in the bottom of the glass to put the air on her breath, and an honest grimace on her face, none of the officers would know the difference. By Besmara! That drink is foul!

Happily evading the worst of the nights "activities," Catrina hunts down the three-fingered Halfling. "Look, I don't know what he told you," she begins... "but I've got no whip, and no mind to use one on anyone, see?" She banters with the diminutive swab for a time before making her way to bed- no sense facing the day still worn out from the last.

As the last vestiges of consciousness slip away, Catrina finds no small comfort in the heavy steel links pressing down on her chest. A thought crosses her mind: Good thing he saw reason- I'd have hated to have to kill him...

Catrina starts when Jack erupts from the galley, bleeding substantially on the deck in the early morning sun. Still- speaking up earns the lash, so she contains what might have been an inquisitive outburst. She meets Mr. Plugg's gaze comfortably and confidently, but not aggressively.
"All of you - I need you to investigate the bilges, straight away! I don't care what it was you were doing today, you can stow your other tasks. Don't bother coming back out until it's been cleared, savvy?"Catrina nods. "Aye, sir." As she turns away from the bosun, she locks eyes with her brother with the beginning of a smirk.

She starts towards the steps, leading the rest of the newcomers. Her paces slackens just below the top deck, and she lets Jarred catch up. "You wanted a fight, right?" She holds out her dagger, hilt first, smiling in anticipation. "You want this, or do you want to go barehanded?"

[WalkingTheShade]

Quipping time


"You want this, or do you want to go barehanded?"
"I know nobody asked for my opinion," Lodan yawns and raises his arms to stretch his back, "but I'd rather Red pokes whatever's down there full of holes than light the whole ship on fire; with the amount of grog they pour down our throats, I'd wager we're more flammable than anything else on board."

[n0ble]

Once everyone is good and below deck, Kana starts idly handing out the daggers she stole, even to people who already have one. You can never have too many knives. No half a$$ing this allies business. In spite of the dagger in her hand, Kana feels somewhat naked as the group trundles down to the bilges. It wass not a pleasant feeling. F!cking no armour. F!cking Grok. F!king Plugg. F!ucking bilges

Kana had never spoken to rats before. Not that she'd ever wanted to. All they ever said was a furtive 'scree' or some sort of odd half-hiss at her before scampering off to grain sacks and barrels. She hoped that there were only six. One for each of them seemed manageable enough. Besides, it would a good opportunity to see if Red-hair could back up his talk. And if the others were worth reaching out to.

[WalkingTheShade]

Using friends

Lodan turns and wordlessly picks another knife from Kana. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow. Who would have thought the shy cook's aide was sitting on an armory? He already has Petaba's dagger hidden and well secured in his left boot, but you can never have too man—bar that, you can have too many knives: Lodan indistinctly remembers falling from a Port Peril pier one night of revelry and nearly drowning under the weight of metal. Anyways, two is not too many and Lodan prefers to have a spare one.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Not much. Better than fists though. Should do till we get our stuff back proper."
Jarred takes the knife slowly before saying, "And now three favors owed. A powerful number - our bond will be difficult to break after this..."

Any of you listening in closely on Scrimshaw's report to Plugg can hear that the former was on rat-catching duty when a few large vermin swam out of the barley crates down in bilges and bit him. There are at least six of them down there, probably more.
[roll0]
Shaking his head, Jarred barely misses what is discussed before heading belowdecks.


"You wanted a fight, right? You want this, or do you want to go barehanded?"

"I know nobody asked for my opinion, but I'd rather Red pokes whatever's down there full of holes than light the whole ship on fire; with the amount of grog they pour down our throats, I'd wager we're more flammable than anything else on board."
"Thanks, Lil' Red, but the cook gave me one already. Besides, you're the only one here who understands that I have been armed this whole time." Jarred replies before laughing darkly. "And I don't plan to burn the ship down either. All the rest of you will see the dragon inside soon enough...though it would be wise to keep this amongst those of us here. Scourge and Plugg should not learn of this until it is too late for them both." He then spits at the mention of the officers and moves towards the bilges purposefully.

Turning to the silent lizard he says,

"You and I will take the front and savage whatever it is first, alright? Do not get in front of me unless you want to be burned..."

[3SecondCultist]

As the seven of you are dismissed and make your way down the decks, the oppressive heat only increases. It was evident this morning when you woke up on your hammocks, but the sun is only now really coming into its own, and the further you descend into the belly of the Wormwood, the heavier your movements feel. There is no doubt that any prolonged exposure to the atmosphere down here will debilitate some of you, if actions are not taken to prevent them. The crew that you pass on your way down either give you a small smile and a salute, look away, or otherwise smirk in your direction. Nobody joins you on your expedition, however, clearly too afraid of Plugg's orders to so directly countermand them.

For those of you who have yet to traverse the ship's depths, the heavy trapdoor in the lower hold and the ladder beneath it that descends into darkness is a relative unknown. You can hear the splashing of water below, which could either be from the routine streams leaking through the ship's hull, or from something else. It's hard to breathe as you look down below, through the fetid smell of half-rotten barley mixed with the overwhelming stench of brine and seawater. Whatever infestation haunts the bilges will likely slow the Wormwood down before too long, or even threaten to flood her lower levels and sink her. It's no wonder that Plugg wants this dealt with immediately. Still, there is the question of who should proceed down the ladder first, and brave whatever punishment awaits below.

So, how this works is that each hour you spend in the bilges, I will roll Perception (with the highest modifier among you, and including a successful +2 from Aid Another) to determine what you find rummaging around the area. The reason I do this is to stagger the encounters with the rats, instead of having you fight all of them at once by, say, taking 20. It's also a bit more natural than just using the system, even if it takes a bit longer. I figure it could be fun for all of you to have an arena to roleplay in for a little bit.

I do, of course, have an ulterior motive for running this encounter this way. The bilges, due to the heat, are treated as 'very hot', as per the environmental rules (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/gamemastering/environment/environmental-rules#TOC-Heat-Dangers). That means for every hour you spend down there, everyone has to make a DC 15 Fortitude save (+1 for each previous check) or take 1d4 points of nonlethal damage (as well as immediately suffer the effects of fatigue when you do take any of said damage). I should warn you that you should be getting this done in three hours or less, otherwise you'll be in trouble with Plugg. Those wearing heavy clothing or armor take a -4 penalty on the save, but I don't think anyone in the party qualifies, since most of you aren't wearing armor, and those of you that are only have light armor. Oh, and everyone should please have their sheets updated with their current level of gear.

Now, without further ado, the Roll20 (https://app.roll20.net/editor/) has been updated! Just scroll down on the map to find your character in the bilges. You're all on the ladder right now, so spread out where you will and we can start the first combat soon. :smallamused:

[Farmerbink]

Catrina looks around, a little out of place on her first trip to the Bilges. It stinks, it's hot, and UGH, it STINKS! She wrinkles her nose- a pitiful defense against the oppressive stench of brine and rot, and looks at her companions. Her expression shifts into something of an empathic smirk as everyone else appears to be reacting in a similar fashion- well, except the lizard. Who knows what it's thinking.

She offers her brother an open grin. "Well, you wanted to strut your stuff, might as well get to it, eh?"

[Starbin]

Hiss, scaled barbarian

The lizard stomped onto the deck, eyeing the horizon as it waited for the daily assignments. However, when young Scrimshaw emerged covered in blood, it perked up, watching the lad closely then turning to peer at the long hair and the skinny man. It seemed things had changed, and suddenly the whole group of newcomers was assigned to go below and hunt ... something.

Eyes narrowing, the black-scaled beast followed the team, eyeing the crew that seemed closest to Scourge before heading below. It paused at the scarred female who was handing out blades. The beast reached out with a huge clawed hand and took it with a slight hiss. Before it could head much further, the red-haired one spoke to it, words guttural and hissing, yet full of power and timber. It was the second time the red-haired one had spoken such words. This time, the black-scaled creature stopped and turned to face the man. It leaned close, inhaling deeply, then snorted. Finally, it spoke in common, a gravelly, hissing voice.

"Blood we sssshed ... but what'sss it wantsss?"

The beast has spoken!

HPs: 13/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -1 Con

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred grins fiercely back as his sister and then the lizardman speaks. "I want gold and power and the freedom to make those who would hurt me suffer! But first we have to kill. Come with me, and let your rage make you strong..." he replies before hopping down the ladder and facing into the darkness. "I can see in the dark - some of the rest of you may need more light. The water level is also pretty high, so you won't be able to move very fast. Send the lizard down next, and then stand behind us. When whatever is down here shows itself hit it hard with whatever you have, but don't get in front of me or I won't be responsible for what happens to you..."

[Starbin]

Hiss, scaled barbarian

The lizard opened its maw letting out a strange gurgling growl. After a moment, the others realized that perhaps, just perhaps, it was laughing.

That, or it planned to eat someone in the group. A point to ponder as it followed the red-hair down.

Hiss will follow the sorcerer ... dagger at the ready!

HPs: 13/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -1 Con

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

The half-orc shakes his head. Really should have just left you to bleed out on the deck. I'm not healing anyone before I know they're not a psychopath anymore. He descends into the bilges, drenched in sweat. With his back to the ladder, he draws his sword, ready to attack any of the vermin that show themselves.

[WalkingTheShade]

Ratcatcher unaware

Lodan looks at the black dragon-man with utter shock. Lodan turns towards Petaba: "you did hear it too, I didn't dream that up, right?" He turns back towards Hiss. "You can actually talk? What's your, eerrr, name?" Then, looking over the gang again, he adds: "anyone has an idea what to expect down there?"

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

"Rats, Tanner, a bunch of vermin." Petaba glares at the filthy water. "Everybody pair up. If one of these things gets at you, your partner can stab them in the back."

[WalkingTheShade]

Ratcatcher Aware

Lodan let's out a relieved sigh followed by a happy chuckle. "Just rats? That's not someth—wait," Lodan's eyes narrow as he takes a more serious look, "—Fane? What size of rats are we talking about? It's not like I haven't heard of huge ones coming in on those Ulfen trading ships," goes on Lodan, deadpan.

Couldn't stop myself from quoting myself (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=20535923&postcount=341).

[Starbin]

Hiss, scaled barbarian

The lizard stalked forward and looked down at the weak man. It inhaled deeply, then licked its maw with a long red tongue. At the question, it seemed to hesitate, though it was difficult to tell why. Reluctance? Comprehension? Disdain?

It let out a sound, that sounded part bark, part hiss and part gurgle. It peered expectantly at the man, clearly waiting.

Was that a name or a question? No one understands what he just said (unless someone has a speaks with animal spell running ....

HPs: 13/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -1 Con

[WalkingTheShade]

Disappointed sailor

Lodan flinches when the dragon man closes in. Then the thing somehow barks at him. "Errr... right. Nevermind. Prob'ly dreamed up that whole talking episode."

[Starbin]

Scaled barbarian

As Lodan turned away, the lizard growled, starring intently at the man ... obviously waiting for a different response.

would you like an intimidate check? :smallbiggrin:

HPs: 13/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -1 Con

[n0ble]

The surprise Kana from the lizard-man talking quickly vanished as it started posturing before Loden. Kana was at the back of the group waiting her turn to go down. She rolled her eyes at the whole spectacle, but only after making sure nobody was looking.

Once down in the bilges she let out a half-snort at the stench and the heat before rubbing a forearm over her brow to clear sweat. F!ck. This. Ship. Still, all this godsdam humidity most likely meant it was going to coalesce and rain down all over again. She wouldn't mind a bit of rain to stand in. Or some much less filthy water to swim through for that matter. She snapped out of her idle dreaming as Petaba suggests pairing off "The boy said there were six of them down here. At least"

[Farmerbink]

Catrina scowls as the Lizardman postures against the talkative swab. "Easy, killer," she begins. "No reason to get testy down here. You wanna punch something? Plenty of rats in the hole for all of us."

She turns to Tanner, something akin to pity in her expression. "You're.... Almost impressively bad at impressing people, aren't you?" she asks as her left eyebrow climbs skyward. "Come on, I'm not gonna get keelhauled because you all can't place nicely. Everybody's going back out on deck when we're done here. Let's go."

She waits for the others to descend the ladder before taking to the rungs, herself. Grimacing, she takes the last few steps into the disgusting water, careful to raise her pistol above the worst of the splashes. Ugh, it's gonna take ages to clean my links...

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh looks up from her bunk. She'd been sleeping in a bit, at risk of missing her morning biscuit, and she has now been interrupted by the procession of her fellow press-gang-ees. She gets up and joins them, waiting for a natural lul in the conversation before asking:

"So what exactly are we doing? Oh, and good morning, I suppose."

She refuses a dagger, letting a tiny sliver of the Divine play across her fingers by way of explanation. She takes her place behind her reptilian compatriot; her job (whatever it might turn our to be) will likely be easiest from behind someone who can take a lot of punishment.

[3SecondCultist]

The bilges themselves are cramped enough, the floor filling with steaming sea water. Those of you who have had the distinct displeasure of working here in the days since you've been aboard this ship find that it's even harder to move around with all seven of you all tightly pressing against one another in this space. You can feel each other breathe, are very aware of the presence of your other companions. Your every breath is labored; it will not take long for heat exhaustion to set in down here. Best to flush out the rats quickly, and be done with it.

Such a task seems to be remarkably easy, as you spread out your search to the murky waters at your feet, around the base of the ladder leading back up to the lower deck, and along both sides of the 'cabin'. The rats come quickly, no doubt drawn by the sight and smell of fresh meat. Skittering and squeaking, the rodents are all closer to the sizes of small dogs than they would be to their mundane counterparts, but are no less mangy for it. Their coats of coarse fur and scabby tails drip with sea water, and their little beady eyes glitter with the promise of a new meal.

Looking around you, you count six of the creatures in total. The first drops from the ceiling right between where Petaba and Lodan have paired off to make their search, nose twitching at the air and twisting its body to face the half-orc in preparation of an attack. Three more clamber down the sides of the hull or slither in from the shadowy crevices of the bilges, all but surrounding Catrina and Thysh. The last two appear from the brackish water; one right in front of Hiss, the other swimming in beside Jarred. All of the rats are hungry, and yet your search has put you on edge, giving you the upper hand right away.

Alright, the map is fully updated with the position of all of the rats. The ones with the blurry symbol above them are considered to have concealment due to being partially underwater, the rest of them are simply normal rats. I said this in the Hangout, but just to make sure everyone knows: the rats are all flat-footed until they act in Round 1, on initiative count 8. That also means they don't threaten any squares despite their positions on the map, which allows those of you planning on discharging a ranged weapon or a spell to do so without penalty. The squares covered in water are also difficult terrain, so movement will cost double there.

The map is here (https://app.roll20.net/editor/), in case anybody missed it. Once all of you have posted your actions, I'll resolve them in the order that is the most logical / favorable and then your enemies will go. We'll rinse and repeat until the combat is over, as per the block initiative rules. Happy hunting!

[Starbin]

Scaled barbarian

Before the situation with Lodan escalated further, the red-haired female pushed the group on. Ignoring the weak man for now, the beast slid down the ladder, landing with a splash. It move to the side a step, then looked around. It took no time for huge rats to emerge, summoned by the siren call of fresh meat.

The black-scaled beast hissed as the things moved to attack, lashing out with the small blade.

[roll0], [roll1]

HPs: 13/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -1 Con

[WalkingTheShade]

The ratcatcher

Lodan is reassured when Red's sister interrupts the dragon-man.

"You're.... Almost impressively bad at impressing people, aren't you?"

"Always do my best to look almost impressive in front of the ladies," adds Lodan with a sardonic smile. He then approaches the ladder and looks below. "I for one am going to breath by the mouth."

When his turn on the ladder comes, he swears internally. Once down, Lodan immediately breaks into sweat. He starts paddling through the ooze, thinking about how it got so crowded so soon. "Damn sure is hot as Cheliax's hell down her—Look out!" Lodan sees something move under the muck and immediately stabs at it. He feels he hits something, seeing only blood spreading on the muck. Noticing movement on his left, Lodan waddles through the muck to bar the things movement. "This way, Fane!"

Lodan stabs at the first rat right on his West. I didn't factor in a flank bonus since Petaba hasn't acted yet. I get Sneak Attack dice since the enemy is flat-footed, and that is a d8 thanks to Lodan's archetype. Lodan uses Combat Expertise for -1 to attack, +1 to AC (factored into the stat block below).

Attack , threatens on 21+. Crit confirm [roll1].
Dammage [roll]1d4+1d8 fudged it here, rolled a 9 in hangouts. Crit damage [roll2].


Lodan moves one square South, so that Petaba can get flanking bonus on the next rat.

AoO, if needed.

Attack [roll3], threatens on 21+. Crit confirm [roll4].
Dammage [roll5]. Sneak Attack (if applicable) [roll6]. Crit damage [roll7].

Lodan F. Tanner (VMC bard) (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=826641)
M N Human Unchained Rogue (Knife master) VMC Bard, Level 1, Init 3, HP 8/8, DR -, Speed 30 ft.
AC 14, Touch 14, Flat-footed 10, CMD 13, Fort 0, Ref 5, Will -1, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0, Action Points -
Dagger +2 (d4, 19-20)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 17, Con 10, Int 14, Wis 8, Cha 16
Condition None

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba reacts quickly to Tanner's shouted warning. He spots the mass of sodden fur, and launches a vicious overhead chop at it. However, Tanner's knife stops the rat in its tracks, and Petaba's sword bites into the planking. "And stay down!" he yells at the corpse, wrenching his sword free. He sidles to the right, mirroring Tanner's movements.

[Farmerbink]

Catrina, the last one down the ladder, hops to port-side in the flooded bilges. Passably familiar with the nature of ships, its state doesn't surprise her much, though the oppressive heat is something she's not yet experienced. Still, it fortunately doesn't take long to draw their prey from hiding- only to rapidly discover that everything in the bilges thinks it's the hunter. As a rat scurries along the sloped wall behind her, Catrina raises her battered pistol. She knows from past experience that the weapon doesn't pack enough force to be a meaningful threat to the hull of the ship, so she doesn't hesitate to aim quickly, and pull the trigger. "Look lively! They're all about!"

A dull explosion erupts from the barrel as the flint draws a spark into the powder.

Catrina Bagrid (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=830384)
F CN Human Buccaneer 1, Level 1, Init 4, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 18, Touch 14, Flat-footed 14, CMD 15, Fort 2, Ref 6, Will 1, CMB +1, Base Attack Bonus 1
battered pistol (20x) 19x +5 (1d8, x4)
Rapier +1 (1d6, 18-20, x2)
Dagger +1/+5 (1d4, 19-20, x2)
Chain Shirt (+4 Armor, +4 Dex)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 8, Wis 10, Cha 16
Condition None

[roll0] atk (vs touch AC)
[roll1] CC (25, x4)
[roll2] dmg
[roll3] crit bonus (if I ever crit, this is gonna get silly)

[n0ble]

Kana stares at the rat next to her, a prominent scowl plastered on her face. She looks from her knife to the rat then back to the knife again. Then the rat again. Ugly little things. Wont be chewing on my bones. A tremor of panic raced through the druid as she was confronted with the prospect of panic. As it does it leaves behind a simmering anger. Something started building inside her, a sort of pressure. At the same time a now all too familiar crispness takes to the air around her. Highly visible little sparks start dancing over her skin, moving to her free hand. "What the fu-" Her profanity gets drowned out over the thunderclap-like noise that gets released along with the discharge from her free hand.

What the f!ck was that?!


Rolled in the OOC thread, got a 10 to hit, 7 non-lethal damage

6/7 uses of the Storm Burst domain power remaining.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred Bagrid (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=129584)
Male Neutral Evil Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Sorcerer, Level 1, Init 2, HP 8/8, Speed 30 ft.
AC 10, Touch 10, Flat-footed 10, CMD 14, Fort +2, Ref +0, Will +1, CMB +4, Base Attack Bonus 0
Claws x2 +4 (1d4+4, 20/x2)
Abilities Str 18, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 16
Condition None
With a sound akin to both a growl and reptilian hiss Jarred whips his hands first at the rat on the bulkhead and then the rat swimming towards him. In an instant they become red, scaled claws that pierce the bodies of the rats as he effortlessly cuts into them both. "Hah! It feels good to get the claws out again!" he says, laughing darkly as he speaks.

Free action to activate Draconic Bloodline Claws (1/6 rounds used today)

Full attack with both claws on one (or two if he kills the first) rats within reach, starting with the one on the wall (that lacks concealment)

Claw [roll0] attack, [roll1] (20/x2), [roll2] slashing damage, +[roll3] critical strike damage
Claw [roll4] attack, [roll5] (20/x2), [roll6] slashing damage, +[roll7] critical strike damage

[roll8] vs concealment (01-20 = a miss, 21-100 = hit) if necessary to hit the second rat

[3SecondCultist]

The first wave of rats die as quickly as they appear. No matter where they come from, the vermin are impaled, perforated, and eviscerated in equal measure as you hold back the tide. Hiss' strike sets the tone of the engagement, the comically small dagger piercing its intended target's skull and leaving it still. This is followed up by the cooperative efforts of Lodan and Petaba; the half-orc's positioning gives the young rogue enough of an advantage to stake one of the rats with a dagger of his own. Even the water does not help the creature out in front of the group, as Catrina's shot strikes the center of the rat's mass, leaving it to float belly-up in the grimy water at the base of the bilges. Jarred's transformation is even more dramatic, as he is able to effectively transform his hands into claws and turn the creatures into mincemeat.

But it's Kana's thunderclap that really seems to spook the rats. The noise all but erupts from her fingertips, piercing the air with a rippling shudder and making most of you wince with pain. Any louder, and you suspect there might have been some permanent damage to your eardrums. Still, there's no arguing with results; when all of you look over, you can see yet another of the starved predators floating in the water, its body scorched and unresponsive. Of the six assailants, only one is left standing.

Still, they come. Perhaps the rats are simply too hungry to pass up even this tough challenge at the prospect of a meal. The ones you've seen certainly appear emaciated enough that you suspect they've barely eaten since you left Port Peril. And no wonder, given their number and the overly cramped space of the bilges. Or perhaps it's because they feel trapped now, hidden in these corners of the ship with no prospect of escape, and feel that attacking is their best chance at survival. Either way, the rats do not hesitate to skitter, climb, or swim over the corpses of their kin to get at you. The remaining rat lashes out at Hiss, even as a second and third appear to try and attack Petaba and Thysh. Of those two, only one is successful, and the gnome comes away with a sizeable bite torn out her right arm. Once again, however, it's the druid who needs your attention, as another pair of rats emerge from a sodden hay bale and successfully drive her to the ground.

All of you but Zeno have taken their actions for Round 1. As he has not posted, I've passed Thysh's turn. Five of the rats are either unconscious or dead, with only one left standing (well, swimming) at 2 hp. As you can probably tell, I've decided to eschew the 'attrition' side of the encounter in favor of a brutal melee, since I think you've all had enough of fatigue and I think you'll be able to clear the rats in under an hour. Of course, that isn't to say there won't be casualties.

Speaking of which, I've made the rolls for the rats for Round 1. Two of them missed, but one of them hit Thysh for 2 damage and two of them hit Kana for a total of 9 damage, putting her to -1 and into the 'dying' state. Anyone conscious who beats a DC 10 Knowledge (Nature) check also knows that dire rats usually carry filth fever in their bites. I'm going to roll the saves and the onset of the diseases for both Thysh and Kana in the OOC.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh drops to the floor awkwardly, taking a few seconds to reestablish her balance, just in time to get bitten by a rat. Beside her, Kana slumps over. Despite the pain in her arm, Thysh cannot help but grin a bit: another opportunity to accrue debts has appeared. That said, it's safe to say that she'll probably need some assistance herself soon enough. She reaches over towards Kana, but quickly withdraws her hand when she sees the rats surrounding her fallen comrade. Looking behind herself, she quickly shouts out to Lodan:

Quick! Swap places with me! I need to heal our cook, but I need a better place to work from.

As she tries to speak, her mouth forms the deep, harsh tones of Aquan instead of the Common words that she had intended. She gestures at Kana to anyone watching, and makes what she hopes are magic-y motions with her hands.

Thysh will five-foot step to swap places with Lodan, if he agrees, then she'll Cure Light Wounds on Kana.

[Farmerbink]

"Jarred! Back here!" Catrina calls out a request for help as another rat appears where the previous one died. Without having had a chance to reload, the lithe young woman brings her rapier forward. With life-or-death focus, she tries to keep the rat both at arms length, and not paying much attention to Jarred or Thysh.

Catrina Bagrid (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=830384)
F CN Human Buccaneer 1, Level 1, Init 4, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 20, Touch 16, Flat-footed 14, CMD 15, Fort 2, Ref 6, Will 1, CMB +1, Base Attack Bonus 1
battered pistol (20x) 19x +5 (1d8, x4)
Rapier +1 (1d6, 18-20, x2)
Dagger +1/+5 (1d4, 19-20, x2)
Chain Shirt (+4 Armor, +4 Dex)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 8, Wis 10, Cha 16
Condition Fighting defensively: -4 atk, +2 AC

[roll0] vs "AC" 10 to assist the next person in attacking the rat to Catrina's right. If I have to choose someone, I'll choose Jarred.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred Bagrid (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=129584)
Male Neutral Evil Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Sorcerer, Level 1, Init 2, HP 8/8, Speed 30 ft.
AC 10, Touch 10, Flat-footed 10, CMD 14, Fort +2, Ref +0, Will +1, CMB +4, Base Attack Bonus 0
Claws x2 +4 (1d4+4, 20/x2)
Abilities Str 18, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 16
Condition None
As Kana falls and his sister calls, Jarred looks over his shoulder and see the cook's assistant collapse. "Three favors - too much power in that to ignore..." he mutters as he barrels towards Kana, nearly stepping on Thysh in the process. "Heal her from back there!" he spits as he swipes at one rat on the bulkhead with one claw and easily lifts the fallen woman out of the water with the other, dragging her away from the rats that surprised her a moment earlier.

What I want is to 5-ft step to where Thysh is currently standing, lift Kana bodily out of harms way, and if allowed still attack the rat directly below Thysh on the map. If that is too many actions, Jarred will first attend to his thrice-bound debt and prevent Kana from either drowning or taking further attacks from the rats.

(If there are enough actions to still attack): Free action to sprout claws again (only if he can make an attack!)
Free 5-ft step
Move action to move Kana (unopposed grapple maybe?)(prioritize this)
Standard action to attack Rat with Claw: [roll0] attack, [roll1] (20/x2), [roll2] slashing damage, [roll3] critical strike damage

[WalkingTheShade]

The ratcatcher

"How the—" starts Lodan, before his voice is covered by a succession of loud blasts. All hell has broken loose in the cramped bilges. Lodan winces as his startled multiple times. He thinks he hears a small voice calling out to him but his ears are ringing too much. When he opens his eyes, whatever was moving in front of him is gone, Red is dragging the cook's mate (Kana, her name is Kana) away from huge rats at one end of the bilges. Brazenly, or actually, not so courageously, Lodan moves to the other side of the bilges, not wanting to be surrounded. He arrives next to Fane and face-to-face with another rat. "Guess we get rat soup tonight." Lodan makes eye contact with the big vicious-looking rat. "You're dinner, not me!" Lodan kicks muck into the rat's eyes.

Move next to Petaba. Dirty Trick on the northenmost rat: [roll0] (I accounted for fatigue this time, Lodan gets +2 from Improved Dirty Trick). I'm going for blindness, but open to something else if SpaceLawyer prefers another debuff.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh dodges around Jarred as he maneuvers Kana to a more reasonable location. She reaches out to the fallen cook again, this time layering her hands across Kana's forehead. She blanks her mind, focusing on that odd connection to divinity that manifested in her during her years spent wandering. She feels a pathway open to something ancient and overpowering, and channels the energy into Kana's wounds, watching detachedly as they seal themselves.

[n0ble]

As Thysh's healing magic courses through her, Kana wakes with a start, sputtering up dirty water and bits of spittle. She shakes off the tiny blue hand, half flinching as she does "-offa me!" Its at that point that it becomes clear that the Red-hair is holding her. You too. She accompanies the thought by scrabbling out of his arms. This was going to sh!t already for her. The blue pygmy would want something in return. Maybe the silver band would do. Anger flashed through her as she thought of giving up the metal band. Plus the Red-hair could hold this sh!t over her.

Taken alongside her panic, it was enough to cause her skin to alight with more sparks, and a droning sound that grew louder and louder. No. No not again. Not again- She just managed to direct her hand at the rat in front before another detonation roared out of her hand. Following that she retreated to the centre of the group. What the f!ck is wrong with me? The one positive outcome was that she could dole out some healing from her new position. I hate this ship.


Used the Storm Burst feature, rolled OOC, rolled a 12 to hit, 4 non-lethal damage on the rat in front of Jarred. It takes -2 to hit on attack rolls for this round.

Taking a 5ft step back.

[Starbin]

Scaled barbarian

Raising the knife, the lizardman peered at the rat on the end of it with a curious expression, as if considering whether to eat it now. However, a moment later, a loud boom echoed in the small room, drawing a hiss from the huge creature. Glaring around, it barely avoided a bite from one of the injured rats. Shaking off the rat with a splash, the scaled beast attacked again, lashing out with the small blade in its huge, clawed hand.

[roll0], [roll1], [roll2] < 21% misses. Attacking the healthy rat if still there, or whatever rat is left!
EDIT: And a miss it is!

PS - I tend to track all my status here ... longer-term stuff goes on my mythweavers sheet.

HPs: 13/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -1 Con

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba swings down at the deck again . . . and misses again. "Damn it! Die already, you filthy rats!" They were quickly getting overwhelmed by the horde of vermin.

[3SecondCultist]

The fray continues - almost miraculously - without any more bloodshed for at least a few more moments after Kana falls. The rest of you have managed to hold your own, and the rats find no more purchase in the Wormwood's bilges, even as they gradually surround you like some unspoken agreement of predators. Two of them leap out of the confines of the water at Hiss and Petaba, but neither is able to strike their would-be victims. Likewise, neither the half-orc or the nagaji lizard are successful at eradicating any more of the infestation. Catrina's rapier assault is not much better, the blade scraping the bottom of the ship's hull before it can do any damage to the creature towards the stern. Only Lodan manages to do anything effective in close proximity to the beast, kicking up some of the bilge water into his enemy's eyes, effectively blinding the rat.

It is Jarred's charge that proves the most eventful, if not the most fortunate. In his haste to reach the wounded druid, the sorcerer opens himself to a peripheral strike, which tears through his calf and thigh muscles and leaves a few bloody tendons exposed to the open air. Although he does manage to get Kana to safety - where she is swiftly healed by Thysh - the next wave of rat attacks leaves him all but unconscious on the floor of the small quarters, bleeding profusely. In almost immediate reply, a thunderclap strikes inside the bilges for a second time, nearly knocking the very same rat over and stopping it from finishing the job. The supercharged air lingers around Kana's fingertips. Between that and the gunshot, there is no doubt that any crew on the deck above has more than heard your fight.

Once again, I've made the appropriate rolls in the OOC thread. The rats managed to completely flub their rolls, missing Hiss, Petaba, and Catrina. The one blinded by Lodan also barely missed due to concealment. On the other hand, the one rat attacking Jarred managed to land a hit despite the -2 penalty, doing 3 damage and disabling him (he's not unconscious). DarkOne, I need you to roll another Fortitude save (DC 12) versus the filth fever disease. Otherwise, everyone should be good to go.

[WalkingTheShade]

The ratcatcher

Dodging away from the swollen rodent, Lodan shouts to Fane, "how the—" being interrupted, again, by yet another loud blast. Lodan grits his teeth. Looking back, Lodan sees rats crowding at the other end of the bilges. "Sh!t!"

Muck is washing away from the rat in front of Lodan. It gives Lodan a menacing look, barring its teeth. "You shut up!" yells Lodan to the mostly silent rat, as he kicks more muck towards it. The rat answers with an annoyed squick. Lodan uses the diversion to put as much distance (and bodies of would-be allies) as possible between himself and the swarm at the other end of the bilges.

Standard action: try to blind the nearest rat again. Dirty trick, [roll0].
Move action: if the maneuver succeeds (since I rolled better than last round, I think it should), circle around the rat to get into flanking position respective to Petaba.

Space Lawyer, you get a flanking bonus this round, don't you waste it : P (Well, if you do waste it, Lodan gets Sneak Attack next round.)

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

If the explosive sounds and acrid smells coming from that newfangled weapon of the red-haired woman's weren't bad enough, it looked like the tanned cook's mate was setting off miniature thunderstorms inside the hold! This fight needed to end fast before Petaba was permanently deafened.

When Tanner kicks more mud on top of the rat, Petaba takes time to line up his strike on the wriggling beast. "This has gone on long enough!" Arcane power flows through the blade, and the half-orc swings with all his might. The combination of careful planning and brute strength proves to finally be enough to bring down a single rat, as Petaba cuts through the sinewy neck and sends the chittering head spinning off. It hits the wall with a satisfying thunk.

Petaba Fane (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=825855)
M CN Half-orc Arcane Duelist , Level 1, Init 3, HP 10/10, Speed 30'
AC 14, Touch 11, Flat-footed 13, CMD 13, Fort 4, Ref 5, Will 4, CMB +2, Base Attack Bonus 0
Includes Arcane Strike Falchion +2 (2d4+4, 18-20 x2)
Dagger (2) +2 (1d4+4, 19-20 x2)
Nonlethal, disarm, trip, reach Whip +2 (1d3, x2)
Studded Leather Armor (+3 Armor, +1 Dex)
Abilities Str 14, Dex 13, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 16
Condition None

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred Bagrid (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=129584)
Male Neutral Evil Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Sorcerer, Level 1, Init 2, HP 0/8, Speed 30 ft.
AC 10, Touch 10, Flat-footed 10, CMD 14, Fort +2, Ref +0, Will +1, CMB +4, Base Attack Bonus 0
Claws x2 +4 (1d4+4, 20/x2)
Abilities Str 18, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 16
Condition Disabled
Jarred flinches at the biting rats, shaking his head as if to clear it when he is bitten. "I am about to be done here unless someone can help me out! Either kill the rest of these vermin or someone help me with this bite wound so I can do it!" he grunts as he eyes the remaining rats near him.

Actions details in OoC thread.

[Farmerbink]

Jarred goes barreling through the bilges- not only not dealing with the rat in front of Catrina, but leaving himself open to another swipe from the vermin's jaws! Damnit, Jarred! she wonders angrily. The only saving grace is that his movement gives her a moment of distraction to reload her pistol. As she plunges the barrel, she hopes the rat isn't able to focus on both of them at once...

Returning to her defensive posture, she makes a feeble effort to attack the rat, still focusing on self-preservation over outright death-dealing.

Catrina Bagrid (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=830384)
F CN Human Buccaneer 1, Level 1, Init 4, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 20, Touch 16, Flat-footed 14, CMD 15, Fort 2, Ref 6, Will 1, CMB +1, Base Attack Bonus 1
battered pistol (20x) 19x +5 (1d8, x4)
Rapier +1 (1d6, 18-20, x2)
Dagger +1/+5 (1d4, 19-20, x2)
Chain Shirt (+4 Armor, +4 Dex)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 8, Wis 10, Cha 16
Condition Fighting defensively: -4 atk, +2 AC

Might as well attack...

[roll0] atk
[roll1] CC (15+, x2)
[roll2] dmg
[roll3] crit bonus

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh turns to the sound of Jarred's request. Disregarding formality, Thysh punches her hands at the nearest available surface: his knees. She more or less just keeps the existing stream of divine magic flowing.

Cure Light Wounds: [roll0]

[Starbin]

Scaled barbarian

The continuous booming was very distracting to the lizard. It hissed lowly every time the sound echoed through the bilges. Attacking again, the lizardman tried to kill another rat swimming in the water.

[roll0], [roll1], [roll2] < 21% misses. Attacking the healthy rat if still there, or whatever rat is left!


HPs: 13/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -1 Con

[n0ble]

As the sparks keep dancing across her skin, Kana's heartbeat slows down. Not but much but it's something. It's not hurting me. She scowls as she hears the Red-hair's words and sees Thysh thump him in the knee. Wonder if he thinks we're square now... The thoughts enough to make her angry. As the anger builds, the sparks move to her free hand, taking most of her earlier panic away with them. As the electricity coalesces into one area the only thought Kana has is that its all in one place for squashing. She claps both of her hands together in an effort stamp out the stuff in her left palm. Instead the smack creates another boom, making sure the stuff travels away from her and at another rat. Dammit.

Still, whatever happened did the trick. For now it doesn't appear as though sparks are dancing across her skin.

[3SecondCultist]

As the battle wears on, fortune finally seems to favour all of you unequivocally. Although Catrina's shot misses for a second time, the rest of you manage to pin down your enemies and make short work of them. Lodan and Petaba's cornering of the blinded rat ensures its swift demise, even as Hiss takes out the next of th encroaching forms in the water, leaving the dark surface slick with floating bits of gore. Between that, the heat, and the brine, the stench down here has become completely unbearable.

The scenario is 'improved' when Thysh turns around and heals Jarred, bringing the red sorcerer back to a modicum of fighting strength. His metamorphosis and subsequent claw strikes make short work of the two rats towards the aft of the ship, leaving but one of the vermin still unconscious. Turning to flee what has proven to be a much tougher meal than expected, it does not make it more than a foot before being slammed with another of Kana's storm bolts. The rat collapses on the bottom of the ship, motionless.

When all is said and done, the Wormwood is quiet. Although you can feel the motion of the waves through the ship's outer hull, this carnage is probably the quietest it's been since the seven of you were press-ganged.

Combat is over, hooray! If any of you want to take a stab at the fleeing rat, be my guest, but since I'm using the 'milestones' xp counter and they don't have any loot, I really don't see the point in it. Still, if you're into more bloodshed, I'm not about to stop any of you.

Now, onto the loot! We have a suit of leather armor, three heavy maces, and 12 sp. In addition, a DC 15 Perception check turns up the following in the dark waters (one item per successful check): a buckler, a masterwork handaxe, two vials of holy water, a tanglefoot bag, two tindertwigs, and 42 gp.

Feel free to divide it up as you wish, but I want to see a list of what is going where, and see that reflected on your character sheets (I'm going to make a new page for loot distribution akin to the one put up for my late Hell's Rebels game.

[DarkOne-Rob]

As the din of battle fades a new sound can be heard, not entirely unfamiliar but neither is it comforting. Jarred's laughter is equal parts genuine and disturbing. He is surrounded by gore with bits of rat flesh on his now entirely human hands. The deep belly laughs last for several moments before he exclaims, "Now that makes me feel better! The blast of pistol and storm magic and the cries of violent struggle for survival - there's nothing else quite like it! Well fought everyone! Hahahahah!"

The redhead turns to his companions and continues, "Now that we have fought side by side you all may know some of my name - call me Jarred. Catrina has seen a portion of my dragon before, and I have heard the roar of her gun. However, today all of you join an elite company: you have seen both gun and claw and still live! Now, to the spoils of war!"

The unusually positive mood of the big man does nothing to diminish his disturbing joy with the carnage around him. He first wipes off the blood from his hands (leaving long, gruesome trails of crimson on the wooden hull as he absently doodles) and then begins to look about the space casually. Ignoring weapons and armor he finds a small pouch with some silver coins inside before shrugging and searching below the waterline...

Perception [roll0] vs DC 15
Jarred found the MW handaxe as rolled in the OoC thread.
When he finds an excellently made handaxe in the water Jarred looks at it with a thoughtful expression. "Would anyone care to trade this for a fair portion of coin? Gold preferably, though silver sparkles in the moonlight too..."

[n0ble]

Kana looked down at her hands as the last of the rats scurried away and the Red-hair started talking. Little bolts forked there way in between her fingers and her face turned from pensive to one of angry scorn. Don't care for his name. Don't care for any of their names. She still had the silver band and weapons to trade to the Quatermaster for her armour, so currency wasn't an issue. Trinkets anyway. Maybe needed, but trinkets nonetheless. Besides, the big Blackscale seemed more inclined to a chopping implement like that.

As she looks up, her eyes pick out a sticky-looking sack amid the slosh of the bilges. Tanglevine? I'll look later. She gingerly hoists the bag over her shoulder before looking at the remains of the rat wounds on her forearm and thigh.A grim thought crosses her mind Might go bad in a few days. Filth fever. She cast a quick sideways glance at the gnome and Red-hair before looking back down at her free hand again. She balls it up into a fist before looking. Who knows.

[WalkingTheShade]

Vae rattīs

"How the—" a boom interrupts Lodan for the third time, making his ear ring again. "Gods, can you stop with that? Right? How the—" Lodan is this time interrupted by Red's gloating. Great; another fight loving freak; at least those don't live long. Spoils of war? Rotten pieces of wood and rotting weapons covered in giant rat giant filth. Seriously. Was that war? Are these spoils?

Sensing a lull in the conversation, Lodan tries a last time. "How the hell did they get so big? We've been cleaning those bilges for days?! Last time I was here I saw just a couple regular sized ones, not counting Bansion (who's anyway bigger, meaner and filthier than these). I..." Lodan voices trails off as he gives up that last try at reason. It seems nobody's listening to him. Everyone is just following Red—bar that—Jarred's example and ransacking whatever's not nailed down and on fire. The remaining giant rats are hiding in the corners, running around trying to find a way out of the bilges or having a feast on their vanquished kin. This ship is madness, best roll with it.

Lodan turns on himself and sees a piece of leather stuck between two barrels. Dragging on it reveals a leather shirt, muck (let's pretend it's only muck) covered and half-gnawed by rats. One of them is still munching one of the shirt's ends, pulling on it as best as it can. "Get lost! My filthy shirt! Mine!" The rat gives in without a fight after a swift kick from Lodan. He looks at his own shirt, covered with blood from repeated whippings, then back at the gnawed leather shirt. Well, if it can make stabbing Lodan during the night just a wee more difficult. Lodan cleans up the leather shirt as best as he can, before putting it on and moving towards the ladder. He hides Kana's blade under the leather.

Perception, [roll0]. Lodan claims the leather armor.

[Farmerbink]

Catrina neatly skewers the final rat- it didn't look dead enough to her. With a shrug for the confused or accusatory glares, she comments, "We were sent to clear it out- not spook the little bastards." Content in the relative stillness that the job is done, and none-too-eager to spend any more time in the bilges than is absolutely necessary, Catrina climbs back to the ladder. Looking at her brother, she offers an amused expression followed quickly by a grimace. "Not that you're wrong, but let's get the hell out of here. Back on the next deck up, she cleans her blade and begins the somewhat arduous process of trying to prevent permanent damage to her meager belongings.

At least my shirt was kept mostly out of the muck... she groans inwardly as she removes her boots- the soft leather was probably ruined despite its waterproofing. Nothing will help much when you've got that much... stuff inside the shoe. She groans outwardly as she sees the slop, which she unceremoniously dumps out onto the floor. It'll drain out the scuppers, anyway...

As the rest climb out, Catrina can't help but steal appraising glances at most of her press-gang-mates. Frowns of approval and appreciation accompany some of the looks, but she keeps her thoughts to herself.

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba stands tensely with sword ready to swing, huffing in the humid, fetid air. It soon seems there are no more rats though, or at least none willing to venture out into the carnage that had been made of their brethren.

The red-haired dragon man starts yelling and boasting, and seems to have left bloody trails across the walls. Absolute psychopath, that one. When the man (Jarred, apparently) find an axe, Petaba just shakes his head. Now the madman has an axe. What a classic scenario.

He has no adequate reply for Tanner either, only a grunt and a shrug. He begins poking into the muck with sword, reasoning that putting one's hand into the filth was a sure way to get bit. Nothing there though - looks like the area had already been picked clean. It made sense, with everyone down here everyday hunting the smaller rats. He goes over the barrels Tanner is tangling with, looking over his back at Jarred as he does. There was no way to be sure that man's bloodlust was sated. Petaba scoots one of the barrels over, only to uncover what looks to be a hole in the decking. Too small for the big rats to crawl through, so here it goes. With a deep breath and a quick motion, Petaba sticks his hand in the flooded hole. His hand closes on a small bag. He grips it, to be rewarded by the familiar feel of heavy coins. He drops the bag in his pocket. He could count it out later.

[WalkingTheShade]

The man in rat-gnawed leather

Lodan gets out of the bilges not long after Catrina. She gives him an odd look. "So, you're kin to him? Fortunately he didn't burn the whole ship down. We can keep going on with our routine. Get up, get absurd work done, get whipped, get rat-piss to drink. Looking forward to it. Got bitten by those beasts?"

From each person who comes up, Lodan asks the same question. "Got bitten? I got something for that. Those buggers give you the fever." If anyone accepts his proposal, Lodan removes a parcel from his boot, takes a few herbs out of it, asks the patient to chew on them for a couple minute then spit them out again. Lodan uses the chewed up herbs to make a poultice he applies on byte wounds. After waiting a few minutes more, he removes the poultice and sews up any wound that looks too deep.

If Thysh accepts healing, here's the roll for Treat Disease (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/skills/heal#TOC-Treat-Disease). Heal, [roll0] (taking into account a +2 for using Healer's kit).

It takes 10 minutes per patient, and since we're not in the bilges anymore, we might get into trouble for wasting time, but Lodan doesn't care about that.

[Farmerbink]

Catrina's first response is a noncommittal shrug. Guess he's gone and let the cat out of the bag. Oh well. She waves her hands in front of herself by way of answer to his next question. "No, I try to keep my fleshy parts well away from nasty vermin. Matter of principle, you know..." She grimaces a bit as he pulls the satchel from his boot. No way that's healthy...

[Starbin]

Scaled barbarian

With the battle over, the lizard tossed the dead body from the blade it held. After looking around for a few moments, it began to trudge towards the ladder, stopping when it kicked something. Reaching down, it pulled forth an enormous metal club. Its mouth opened into what could only be described as a grin as it moved to the ladder to head back up. It seemed to possess little interest in the ranting of the two red-haired humans, or the searching around in the sh!t that the others seemed to be doing.

It had a club!

Ready to move on ... just like to claim a mace.


HPs: 13/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -1 Con

[Sen isSaqqara]

Before joining in the loot-gathering, Thysh takes a moment to cool off. She summons cold water over her head, letting it pour down into the bilge at her feet. As the clear water pushes back the murk, she spies something shiny. She summons a light, and reaches down to grab it. After a few moments of poking around, contesting with the little spirits that flow around her hands, she manages to retrieve a vial of holy water. She carefully tucks it away.

Well, it's not gold, but it could be worse.

"So, how's everyone doing?" Her voice is, thankfully, back to speaking in normal common. "We didn't lose anyone, did we?"

[DarkOne-Rob]

As he continues to root around in the muck and water Jarred finds several other items (illuminated by Thysh's minor magic) and begins passing them up the ladder to Catrina and the others. As Kana begins to move towards the ladder he steps out of the way deferentially and says, "Our alliance has been strengthened today - your thunder and my fire are powerful in tandem."

Coming up the ladder last he notes Lodan inspecting wounds and is quiet for a moment, his expression intense and introspective. "I do not think I am much at risk of disease, but if you know something I do not you may inspect the wounds," he says, waiting to be last among the party to receive attention. "That said, several of us are wounded and I don't trust the crew. If any of you can bind wounds together with your power I think it would be wise to do so..."

Once everyone is ready to report their success he settles the axe on his belt and makes eye contact with everyone. "I think either Catrina or I should address Scourge when we report in a moment. Afterwards I plan to negotiate the return of my gear in exchange for this weapon. The rest that we found can be divvied up among all of us. No one should sleep tonight without a weapon and armor, if they want it. Does anyone have an argument with that?"

[Sen isSaqqara]

"Well, I'm not really one for weapons and armor. That said, I can take care of myself, and anyone who tries to shank me will probably die slowly and painfully and in exactly the manner they deserve, so I think I'll be fine. Speaking of painful and debilitating disease, I think one of those rats got a bite in on me." She shows Lodan her leg where she was bitten.

[n0ble]

As the Red-hair talks to her Kana looks at him with a bemused scowl. Guess we're still aligned then. Little bolts flicker in between her fingers, and she just catches them out of the corner of her eye. "Looks that way, don't it?"The druid punctuates the words with a stiff nod at the Red-hair. She stows the knife in her boot again before re-shouldering the bag. She wasn't sure what to make of the woman-Catrina?- that he'd mentioned but figured it was fine for now. More people in between her and others was never a bad thing.

Upon getting topside, Kana submitted to Logan's herbs. She didn't look at the wound, instead looking at the man's features before quickly turning to the dressing when he looks up. Huh. Not bad.

She gave a vague shrug. Don't want to talk to Scourge. Can trade the silver bracelet and weapons in for my sh!t. Today

[Farmerbink]

Catrina eyes Thysh with something resembling disbelief or confusion. She gives her head a quick shake to dispel the interjecting thought, and nods resolutely. "I'll talk to him." She smiles. "I think he's still unused to speaking to people that aren't afraid of him. I find the exchanges exhilarating." Slipping the two unclaimed alchemical twigs into a pocket, she starts upwards.[/COLOR]"

[3SecondCultist]

Covered in bilge water and other, less describable types of filth, all of you climb up the ladder so that those of you with rat wounds can be appropriately treated for any diseases, and Catrina can make the report to Plugg that the job has been completed. Apparently, whatever commotion you caused in the bilges was enough to garner just about everybody on the lower deck's attention... friendly or otherwise. There are three other pirates in the lower decks, and both of them stare openly at you. The first face is Scrimshaw himself, who is busy laying traps for any more of the vermin that appear. He smiles at Catrina, although wrinkles his nose at the stench of you. The second is Crimson Cogward, who eyes your group with a healthy dose of admiration at what he no doubt presumes to be a grand melee. The third of the pirates, however, is already hastily making his way up the stairs to the middle deck. You recognize him as the fat, bald man who was there when Scourge first appeared to torment you those days ago: Fipps Chumlett.

There can be no doubt as to where he's headed. Before any of you can intervene, he's gone. It won't take long for Plugg and Scourge to learn that you've either completed or failed in your task. It seems as though any treatment of disease will cost all of you a lash today, since the first mate's instructions of you reporting back to him were quite clear. Still, Lodan might have time to at least treat one person.

[Sen isSaqqara]

"Treat whoever's most wounded first," says Thysh to Lodan, "You can always fix the rest of us up later." She withdraws her leg and follows Chumlett up the ladder. Perhaps she can make a report to Scourge before the bald man has time to mess things up too badly. At the least, she can try to buy Lodan a few more minutes.

[DarkOne-Rob]

As Fipps begins to hustle away Jarred growls and starts to run after him. A moment later he visibly winces and grabs at his leg where one of his rat-bite wounds can be seen visibly bleeding. "Damn it that hurts! Catrina! You're not injured - go play interference for 'Pudgy' up there and keep the officers off our backs as Tanner here looks at the wounds and makes sure none are infected!"

Turning back to the others he mumbles, "Tonight we will have to see to 'Pudgy' and ensure he doesn't try to kiss up with Scourge at our expense..."

[Sen isSaqqara]

Hearing Jarred's call, Thysh backs off to let Catrina go ahead. She's a better choice: Thysh has short legs, one of which is injured.

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba goes abovedecks with Catrina. He didn't necessarily trust her to give an accurate accounting of the events in the bilges, and if she did, then she could porbably use backup. It looked like Scrimshaw would be able to help out if anyone started something below, and Cogward might just be up for a brawl if one broke out, judging by the look he had.

[Starbin]

Scaled barbarian

Emerging from the bilges with the others, the large lizard glared around the deck, almost standing guard as the others emerged. Once everyone was up, it followed the group, glowering at anyone who seemed unfriendly.

Looking all bad-arse, covered in shi-ite! Let's go with a generic Intimidate to give weight to the group's emergence!

[roll0]

EDIT: Trust me ... if I ever roll over 10 on an intimidate check, you will be awed!


HPs: 13/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -1 Con

[Farmerbink]

Before Jarred can offer his advice, Catrina is heading topside. In passing, she points a finger at Crimson. "I'll want your help," she begins in between strained breaths of muck and worse, "learning how to use this blade better. Never fought more than pies and skittish squirrels before- I'm almost embarrassed to carry it, now..." Knowing his abilities and interests, she takes to the stairs- two at a time- hopeful that it won't cost too much to get a more knowledgable eye on her movements.

Catrina arrives on the top deck, no more than a minute after having left the bilges- one shoe carried sloppily in her left hand, and the other untied. Looking down and breathing a little heavily, she steps up to the planks a few paces behind Fipps. Huh. It's a wonder I didn't trip going up the stairs.

"Sir!" she all-but yells to interrupt the fat man's 'report.' "Bilges are cleared of offending vermin. I'm not gonna say they're clean, mind you, but nothing down there's gonna bite too hard. Couple of us were bitten pretty badly- almost all on the feet and legs. Might take them a couple more tics to take the stairs back."

I'd really like someone else to at least assist, here. I can't imagine any such failure will directly impact Catrina, but I'd rather not get other people whipped on my poor die rolls, for which I'm long overdue:
[roll0] diplomacy

Edit: "Aw, man. I hate it when I'm right!"

[n0ble]

Kana made her way above deck with everyone else. Ideally, not having to take any lashes would be preferable to even one. But if it came down to it she could take a lash. She had before, so it's not like it was anything expressly new for her. Five days and no whippings to speak of? Bound to happen at some point. She looks forward to the inevitability with a grimness that is fairly plain to see on her face.

[3SecondCultist]

Plugg's face settles into a scowl at the sight of Catrina, one that is not much improved by the words he hears emerge from her mouth. The first mate gets to setting his teeth when he hears of crew members laying about and not doing their job, sending for a few other members of the swab team to go and collect them. "That isn't your call to make," he growls at the red-haired woman, suddenly pulling her in close. "We'll see if the Stitchman comes to the same conclusion. Either way, know that you and yours have all earned yourselves a lashing today." Shoving Catrina away as quickly as he grabbed her, Plugg takes a few long strides to the stairs up to the foredeck, surveying the work being done. He's clearly not happy at being forced to fetch the surgeon and send him belowdecks, and he shoots Catrina one more stony look before disappearing from sight.

"Can't say that I'm surprised, sir." The man finishes his examination of Jarred, Kana, and Thysh down in the hold with a summary shrug. Habbly Quarne, the ship's surgeon, is a bespectacled fellow with a shorn head and quite a few scars. He's got quite a calm demeanor, save for a somewhat animated spark in his eyes as he inspects the carnage wrought on your flesh by the rats. It's only one possible interpretation of the Stitchman's name. He points to the blue gnome's leg. "This one's got the highest chance of infection, to my mind. I can clean it up, but I'd recommend that this one be given a more lenient task today." The Stitchman looks back to Plugg, who reluctantly nods. Scourge isn't far behind, and the thin man seems even more disappointed at the diagnosis. As soon as Quarne has left, the bosun is quick to ensure that everyone goes where they need to - save for Thysh, who is reassigned to do repair work despite the need for a serious second cleaning of the bilges.

Back to work, everyone! Everyone needs to roll for their daily tasks for the fifth day now - the assignments are posted in the OOC thread. We can assume that Treat Disease on all three of Kana, Thysh, and Jarred were successful, although they haven't been properly healed yet (whether or not you take care of those yourselves is up to you)l. It'll be back to business as usual for a few in-game days, so as soon as everyone picks their ship actions and do their tasks, I will have an end of day post for Day 5. All of you will be earning one lash for dallying about without permission.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred's expression leaves little to the imagination as the party receives their assignments and additional lashes are ordered. Grumbling angrily throughout the day, he makes it a point to stop by the ship store and trade the handaxe for his old gear and several (4) flasks of alchemist's fire. With an indifferent thanks to Grok he returns to work, before the Bloody Hour.

After his first whipping Jarred falls, hard, and doesn't move or even groan for several long moments. When his breath comes back it is shallow and uneven, but doesn't stop...

Hauling Rope and Knot Work, during which Jarred will Shop

Strength [roll0] vs DC 10 or fail task (pass)
Constitution [roll1] vs DC 10 or become fatigued (pass)

As described in hangouts, Jarred will sell the handaxe for 1/2 value (153 GP store credit), buy back his starting gear (70 GP worth), and have 83 GP credit. Once I know what else I can buy, I will probably detail what else he picks up.

Bloody Hour - Jarred may "earn" as many as two additional lashings today but begins at 2 HPs, so...


Whip 7: 6
...he goes unconscious and dying after the first whipping at -2 HPs. I am going to assume someone will heal him immediately so that he stabilizes and I get to continue playing. Unfortunately that probably means I will end up drinking the grog tonight...

Whip [roll2] attack, [roll3] (20/x2), [roll4] nonlethal damage, +[roll5] critical strike damage
Whip [roll6] attack, [roll7] (20/x2), [roll8] nonlethal damage, +[roll9] critical strike damage (unearned - Jarred worked well enough today)
To stabilize without healing magic - Constitution [roll10] vs. DC 10 (pass)

Constitution [roll11] vs. DC 10 (if needed)
Constitution [roll12] vs. DC 10 (if needed)
Constitution [roll13] vs. DC 10 (if needed)
Constitution [roll14] vs. DC 10 (if needed)
Constitution [roll15] vs. DC 10 (if needed)
Constitution [roll16] vs. DC 10 (if needed)
Constitution [roll17] vs. DC 10 (if needed)
Constitution [roll18] vs. DC 10 (if needed)
Constitution [roll19] vs. DC 10 (if needed)
Drink it tonight...if conscious (which Jarred isn't yet)

Constitution [roll20] vs DC 5 or minor addiction (pass, though I hope it doesn't happen)
[roll21] Constitution Damage
+[roll22] Charisma
Fatigued for [roll23] Hours

After a day like this, Jarred will Sleep after dinner.

[Farmerbink]

Catrina starts when Plugg pulls her in close, her expression one of shock and disgust. When he shoves her away, indignation rises. Who's takin' a f***ing break?! Next time that son of a bitch tries to lay hands on me... as Plugg disappears- seeking the stitchman, no doubt- her left hand subconsciously drifts to the bandolier she wears underneath her shift. She spits on the deck, and rises to her feet to get on with the days task. Having been sent to round up less aggressive rats, she heads back belowdecks to get to work.

Back in "Crimson's" company, Catrina's in the foulest mood anyone on board has yet seen. She doesn't make much effort to hid it, instead talking with her unlikely partner animatedly. "You ever seen him get in a fight? No, a real fight?! I've got more'n half a mind ta..." Despite her anger, she's not quite dumb enough to come right out and say what she's thinking.

She returns dutifully to the deck at the chiming of the ship's bell. Not trusting herself to keep her emotions in check, she stands silently, scowling angrily at the deck boards just in front of her toes as the first few rounds of punishment are administered.

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba's face contorts into a grimace when he hear's Catrina's explanation. Couldn't say it in a more conciliatory manner, could you? He isn't surprised when Plugg promises a lashing for them all. This redhead seemed only marginally less likely to get them all killed than the other one. Must be a family trait, if Tanner was right about that relationship.

When he is assigned to run around the ship delivering messages and supplies, he isn't particularly surprised. The bosun probably wanted him run ragged, and to fail at this task, giving an excuse for another lashing. Petaba isn't going to give the man an excuse though. He steps lively to the job, running to and fro with a measured pace.

He even has time to stop now and then to chat with Shikivah. Well, it wasn't so much chatting as Petaba occasionally making a comment or witty observation with a grunt or terse word in reply from the big woman. Over the day though, he could see her attitude begin to change. Whenever she heard the half-orc coming up behind her, she would stop what she was doing and look expectantly at him, seeming to almost welcome his presence.

The day is through, and though he was worked up a hard sweat, Petaba feels little worse than he did at the start. That was about to change though - Bloody Hour was upon them.

[Farmerbink]

When the time comes, Catrina's scowl shifts into a grimace. It doesn't take a genius to foresee Scourge's reaction to finding her chain shirt after the first whip cut her shift into pieces. Likewise, it's not going to help anyone for Catrina to let the lining get destroyed. She takes a deep breath, as the gathered eyes turn to her, and begins walking forward. She reaches over her shoulders and removes shift, chain shirt, and lining all in one quick motion, leaving her back bared and her chest covered- conveniently giving her plenty of fabric to bite as she places the top of her head on the mast.

Without anything resembling prior experience, the lash falls. It cuts through the skin of her back like it's not even there- drawing thick red blood from the long, shallow gash. The pain is worse than she expected, despite watching several people whipped unconscious over the last 5 days. Tears well up in the corners of her eyes, but her anger keeps them firmly in place. For several minutes, she walks around with her back bared, waiting- at least- for the blood to stop running before properly covering up once more. Modesty be damned- I'm not gonna let this stuff get ruined... like my back...

The sting of pain takes longer to pass than she would have thought, too; leaning against any of the posts or rails is flat out of the question. She drinks the rum, and mopes about sullenly as dinner begins.

Hunting out a new face, Catrina finds herself talking with an older Half-Elf. Her striped haircut is odd-looking, and Catrina's recent experience is somewhat distracting. Unable to gauge the situation well enough to feel confident, Catrina decide's she's had enough for one day and heads to her cot. She doesn't sleep well- as the cots are difficult to lay upon on your stomach, and her back hurts too much to ignore. The next day comes earlier than she'd like, that's for sure.

[n0ble]

Daytime

Kana took to her assigned task with a purposeful sense of energy. She didn't want to get lashed even more after all. Instead she got mad and put all the anger of the day's events into harpooning another flotilla of leatherbacks. Once that was done she hauled them into the kitchen and set to hacking the meat from their bones with a cleaver. During a lull in the preparation, she skittered off to trade the silver band, shortsword and axe for her armour and quarterstaff. It felt good to get them back again, and went some ways towards calming her mind after the days events. Beats throwing thunder outta my @ss at least.


Daytime Ship Action: going to the shop and trading in the stuff stolen from the kitchen for gear.


Nighttime
When it came time for her lashing Kana approached the pole with a practiced stoicism. As Scourge bears her back, several jagged scars are readily apparent, the result of previous whippings under a different man. She took in a deep breath, exhaling as the whip cracks down onto her back. She grits her teeth before re-applying her armour over it. Ugh. Almost forgotten the sting.

Rather than talk she instead went straight to drinking her grog. Maybe it was the fact that she got her stuff back or discovering something new about herself, but it tasted slightly less like piss to her. She quickly banished the thought. Still piss. Just growing to like its taste. It was enough to put her in a sour mood again as she approached the Red-hair's form.

He'd down hard during his whipping. It looked bad but she could help, as per their agreement. Too much sway to let it go to waste. She walked over to his body and dragged it below deck, in imitation of what she did the previous night. Once alone, shed placed a hand on his wounds, watching them recede as something flows from her hand to him. One more weird thing in whats been a very f!cked up day. Kana didn't bother waiting for a reply from him, she simply left for the nearest unoccupied hammock and passed out in it.


Cure light wounds on Jarred: [roll0]
Night Action: Sleep

[DarkOne-Rob]

As he wakes with a start, Jarred sees Kana drift off to another hammock. "Ah, my ally. It is good to know that the rule of three still applies, even on this wreck," he mutters as he pulls himself up carefully. "Ow! My head again...let's see if I can find something to eat. Maybe that will help..."

Saying nothing more he helps himself to a bowl of turtle stew in the kitchen and bumps into Catrina on his way back to bed. Seeing her stance and expression he lets her pass without comment, though he notes the ginger way she walks and realizes that she hadn't been whipped until today. The thought flashes murderously across his face before he follows his sister and heads to sleep himself, choosing a spot near her just in case.

[Starbin]

Scaled barbarian

The lizard left the group to join the other riggers. Today, it was not nearly as agile as it had been previously. After more than a little frustration, the lizard hissed loudly. A couple of the other riggers snickered; ones with no love for the newcomers. Fortunately one of the riggers, Shortstone, took pity on the huge beast and helped it tie the ropes satisfactorily. The lizard peered at the nice one for a moment, then nodded its head ... perhaps a thanks? Then it went back to its work.

That night, the lizard followed the others for a lashing, confused as to why it was being beaten. Snarling, it took the blow without flinching and went to gather food and grog. Eyeing the other crew, it left the games for tonight and approached one of the riggers, the female with no shoes, and sat down. With a strange stream of hisses and barks, it touched its chest, then pointed a clawed hand at the woman. Head cocked to the size, the intimidating beast watched with unblinking eyes...

Time to try and influence Barefoot Toppin ... [roll0]

HPs: 8/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -2 Con

[WalkingTheShade]

The reluctant pirate

Once back on the main deck, Lodan shrugs when he learns from Catrina he's due yet one other lash. "I don't think anyone keeping a tally of them anymore. I'll just be whipped every evening on this ship 'till I die or Scourge's whip breaks on my back."

Yet, Lodan is happy to learn he's paired with Tilly on todays taks. Moreover, repairs are way easier than swabbing or running, cleaner than the bilges and generally more into his set of skills. Yet, who cares about working. Everyone knows how Lodan's day's going to end. Right? Lodans spends most of his day helping Tilly with her share of the work. "You know, everyone calls me Tanner, but my first name is Lodan. Grew up in Port Peril, where do you come from?" As the day passes, Lodan shows Tilly a few carpenter tricks to make her work easier. She seems agreeable enough. Soon, they're telling each other stories of their many drunken misadventures. They even start singing a few drinking songs then breaking into laughter right in the middle of them. Lodan finds they both have much in common, unlike the Bansion b!tch. He hopes he'll get to know her more intensely before he's finally whipped to death.

Profession (sailor) on repairs, [roll0] vs. DC 10.
Influence Tilly Bracket: [roll1].


When the Bloody Hour comes, Lodan waits in line, removing his leather vest. He looks at his feet, yet cringes at the sound of the whip on each one of the press gang. He turns to Petaba: "Fane? Assuming you're still standing, I wouldn't be opposed to a dose of your magic, again." Lodan then nods towards a woman on deck. "If you hurt too much to drag me to bed, I'm positive Bracket would help." Lodan, all bravado, then waves and smiles to Tilly, trying to look way stronger more nonchalant than he is. Say what you will, but the prospect of sharing a new woman's, err, friendship makes a fronting self-confident coward out any self-confessed coward.

When Catrina comes past them, back bloody, dragging her mail shirt, Lodan makes eye contact. Her stare is somewhat vacant. It's probably her first time. Lodan whispers to her: "I know it hurts. Thing is, you mostly get used to it after some time. Well maybe not used to the pain, but at least to the idea of the pain."

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh spends the day working carefully, taking the time to think as her subconscious busies itself in the task at hand. She manages to finish the jobs assigned to her, haphazardly but effectively nailing boards over weak spots in the hull and replacing a few rotted planks in the deck's rail. Come the day's end, she is lost deep in thought, but the beginnings of a new plan have begun to stir in her mind.

[3SecondCultist]

Your punishment tonight was not all that severe - one lash or so leaving most of you standing - but the message it has sent among the crew did not go unnoticed. Several among your compatriots among the Wormwood's rank and file look away, or seem frightened that the same will happen to them should they speak out to the first mate, who looks on with a slightly less angry face than the one he usually wears. "Best you stick together," murmurs Scrimshaw to anyone who will listen, and Cogward manages to keep a lookout for any of Scourge's contingent as Catrina heads belowdecks and both Lodan and Petaba are administered their lash. Beyond your most staunch allies, it's hard to be sure that those whose goodwill you've earned will stay in your camp for long.

On the other hand, there are friends you've all made - or bullied into service - today that seem to stick by your side. Tilly Bracket, apparently charmed by Lodan's many tales, moves to help carry him after the day's Bloody Hour has come to an end, and Barefoot Toppin seems even more scared of Hiss than she does of the overseers, as she hangs around the dark-scaled lizard for most of the evening after he's 'spoken' his piece. When all is said and done, it is comforting to know that most of you have made yourselves a cache of allies, no matter how apparently small or insignificant. In a short space of time, several of you are already seen as true sailors, and honest friends. To what end you will put these relationships is up to you.


The morning brings a rolling grey fog, almost soup-like in its consistency, melting from the clouds above and rising from the waves below to engulf the Wormwood in a sort of transient state of being. For the sixth time since you've been aboard the ship, you are roused from your sleep and follow the throng of sailors up through the various holds to get your assignments for the day. For the sixth time, you pass the manacled man attached to the mast in the middle hold. He sleeps fitfully, waking only when kicked or otherwise abused by the crew members who pass him by. And he pays you no mind, curling back up in his ragged blanket of tar and feathers, shouting profanities and trying to push off anyone who gets too close. Most everyone gives him a wide berth after that.

By the time you reach the overcast sky that is the backdrop to your misfortune, Scourge is in the midst of assigning tasks for the rest of the crew. "All ye curs," he points to Giffer Tibbs and Crimson Cogward, as well as Jack Scrimshaw and Aretta Bansion, "yer down below today. The bilges need cleanin' up after yesterday, and the rats ought to be killed sooner rather than later." With a rough gesture of the hand, the bosun includes Catrina, Lodan, Jarred, and Thysh in that group, assigning two to join Scrimshaw and Bansion in the bilges, and the other pair to help with rat duty. Petaba is last among the swab contingent to be assigned, and Scourge absentmindedly throws him a holystone before telling him to get to work and that 'he knows what to do'. Meanwhile, Hiss is given the job of fixing some slack lines up in the rigging... and Kana can hear Kroop's drunken fumbling from the next cabin over.

All in all, it's just another lively day aboard the Wormwood.

I've decided to make this a little bit harder on you guys, since you've made such swift progress with the crew. First of all, anyone with a 'Hostile' attitude can no longer be influenced, save for at night or during a dead of night action. With Scourge and Plugg about during the day, they won't be swayed from the resident tyrant and his cur. Furthermore, today's whipping of the group has resulted in a -2 to influence all NPCs for the next 24 hours (up to and including the next night action, but not the extra ship action you can take by staying up).

[DarkOne-Rob]

Because he feels largely healthy and ready for the day, Jarred wakes in a bright mood. His ferocious grin is flashed at crew members, friendly and unfriendly alike, and he all but leaps at his assignment. "Alright! Let's go Lodan, Jack. Who else is helping?" he says cheerfully before Aretta Bansion is pointed out. When he sees her his grin gets even wider, and the leer she receives is positively dripping with hostile intent. "Oh, I didn't know that we were afforded a whore to keep us entertained while we work! How very excellent!"

Without waiting for a response he heads down the hatch towards the now familiar bilges, dropping down the ladder into the muck with strange enthusiasm. Once there he begins working steadily, though his rude quips and raucous laughter can be heard throughout the day. Anyone listening in discovers that the talk and jokes consistently revolve around the fourth crew member assigned the dirty work. Listeners also note that he is crude, ugly, and utterly abusive as he harasses and harangues the woman mercilessly. "You see that, your ladyship? That is rat blood all over the wall! Maybe yours will join it someday soon - I think some of us would like that..."

Man the Bilges:
Strength [roll0] vs DC 12 or fail
Constitution [roll1] vs DC 10 or fatigued

Work Diligently: +4 bonus applied to the Strength check.

In spite of the diatribe, Jarred never actually speaks to Bansion, nor does he attempt to influence her in a manner that distracts from the work. He would rather only be whipped once today (as that is all he "owes") than try to actively influence her and distract himself from the work. The description above is meant to be the sort of thing that happens when a worker makes a (very) hostile environment for another. I have no interest in either wasting an action trying to influence her or risking failure when I am still debating attempting to murder one of the crew members. Heck, she might earn a spot on Jarred's list...

[WalkingTheShade]

Bilge rat

"Oh, I didn't know that we were afforded a whore to keep us entertained while we work! How very excellent!"

"A whore? I had the priviledge to meet nice, honest, loving and intelligent whores in my lifetime. Here, I believe you're mistaken on the nature of the help, Red," answers Lodan, deadpan, as if he'd not gotten the insult. He stays silent but once they get down in the bilges, he gets down last. He makes a show of sniffing the air, adding, "smells like giant rats are not the only vermin we'll risk meeting down here today."

Work goes on with Lodan enabling and helping Jarred's aggressive mocking of Bansion, making more indirect jibes at her expanse. Lodan seems emboldened both by Jarred's insults and the extra efforts he puts into today's work. Usually lazy, Lodan feels he can't slack if Jarred's putting his heart into it.

Lodan is not fatigued anymore since he only slept during yesterday night.
Work diligently. Strength, [roll0]. Constitution, [roll1] vs Fatigue DC 10.

[Starbin]

Scaled barbarian

The beast scaled the ropes quickly, ignoring the others as it went about fixing the rigging. It still seemed to operate on quick claws vice any true knowledge. The other riggers working nearby were not friendly, but the black scaled creature didn't seem to care ... or invite discussion.

Something to bide the time ...

HPs: 8/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -1 Con

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

The half-orc takes the holystone and gets to work. In the sullen, oppressive heat, it is grueling labor. Still, there is a pleasant rhythm to the work - back and forth, back and forth. It takes most of the day, but Petaba has the deck looking smooth and clean.

Petaba is working diligently today
Strength:[roll0] vs. DC 10

When he stands up to observes his work though, Petaba can feel a weariness overtaking him. It seemed that the combination of the grog, the heat, and the sheer brutality of the life on the ship was getting to him. He puts the holystone back where it goes, and shuffles away to find somewhere to slump until dinner time.

[n0ble]

Kana's scowl turned into a look of plain fury as she saw that Kroop was insensibly drunk again. That meant it fell to her to prepare the entire meal. She poured her anger into each swing of the cleaver. F!cking Kroop. F!cking Wormwood. F!ck!!! It enough to make her body bristle with the same energy from yesterday. It's clear from the beginning that she's already behind, and as the hours pass it becomes obvious that she's not going to get everything done in time. At the end of the day, it's clear that she hasn't done nearly enough to make a cohesive meal for the crew.

Amidst the anger and half clean pots, she wonders if there's a way that she could pin all of this on the pass out cook. Its not like he'd know of be able to defend himself from accusations anyways.

[3SecondCultist]

The Owlbear (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvCHBNNxsUQ&list=RDMvCHBNNxsUQ)

The hours encroach as they have, blending into each other with reckless abandon. All that exists is the work, and the mists are no help at all. Above decks, Hiss and the riggers make do with what little they can see, plying lines and fixing the main boom of the Wormwood, as a jagged splinter has developed along its length in the days since you left Port Peril. The crew is largely successful, and only one of their number - Ratline Rattsberger - is subjected to the lash on the main deck. The swabs don't fare as well, with Tilly Brackett, Shikivah, and Aretta Bansion - the latter of whom was thoroughly distracted and unnerved by working the majority of the day surrounded by potential enemies - also up for a bout of punishment. Although this is not the first time you've seen the more experienced crew members at the end of Scourge's tongue, it is certainly the most you've seen the bosun dole out to anyone who was not recently impressed into service.

Next up are Kana and Lodan. The cook's mate, unfortunately, has prepared something of a lousy supper on account of Fishguts Kroop being more 'under the weather' than usual, and a clamor for her suffering was swift this evening when the gruel was not up to standards. Fortunately for Kana, Scourge misses on the first swing, but he comes around soon enough, and the druid collapses on the deck after the second lash connects with her back. Lodan does not fare any better, and soon the pair of them are lying side by side, several jeering faces looking down at them. Maheem, the large man. Tam Tate, the dark-skinned dwarf. And Scourge himself, who coils his whip back into his belt with a certain reluctance, but not before spitting on Lodan's unconscious body and stepping away with a harsh laugh. With that final indignity, the sixth Bloody Hour is over, and the lot of you begin to prepare for the rum ration to be dragged out for the evening's activities.

"Hold, there!"

What happens instead is more than a little surprising. From the doors that lead down to the middle hold, Plugg appears, having been absent during the ritualized torture session that is the Bloody Hour. Beside him are two more figures, both of them recognizable: the first is the blond man who stood at the helm a few nights ago, and the second is the large man with meaty fists who has been bound belowdecks since you first started your journey. Standing at his full height, the prisoner looms over most, and yet cuts quite the sad figure. He wears the scars of many close quarter fights, and his shaved head has quite a few nicks and dents in it. He wears hideously mismatching interlocking bits of hardened hide, although that does little to cover the shaved skin beneath; a sign of the tarring and feathering the crew gave him not too long ago. None of this was as evident in the mornings and evenings when you passed him on your way down to the hammocks as it is at this very moment. Of course, he also wears chains around his arms and throat.

"Tonight is a special occasion, because one of you will be walking away a rich man! For those of you who have never had the pleasure, this be Owlbear Hartshorn!" He holds the shackled man's scarred arms up high in the air, revealing a glistening, puckered mark that runs all along the Owlbear's side and down his chest beneath his armor. The fighter's eyes are filled with a sad darkness, but he cries out a few guttural sounds that make sense in no tongue whatsoever. Whatever the display, Plugg doesn't seem to notice it. "What do you say? Anyone up for a bit of sport? Whoever beats the Owlbear in a bare-knuckle fight - no magic, no weapons or tricks - walks away with a cash prize!" The first mate gestures to a fat purse at his belt, which jingles with coin. He opens it briefly to let the gold within catch the torchlight, and to reassure everyone that the offer is indeed a genuine one. Several of the sailors immediately begin to jostle each other over who will get to fight the simpleton first, but Plugg points through them to the five of you who are still conscious. "Tell you what; I'll give the greenhorns the first go at him. Well? Is there any among you strong enough to brave this fight, or shall I give the purse away to somebody else?"

[DarkOne-Rob]

"smells like giant rats are not the only vermin we'll risk meeting down here today."
Jarred smiles at Lodan's comments. "I knew there was some fire in you, man! We'll just have to play exterminator again, like we did yesterday!" he jokes as the two men harass Bansion.


The swabs don't fare as well, with...Aretta Bansion also up for a bout of punishment.
As the woman takes the lash Jarred makes eye contact with Lodan and Jack Scrimshaw, the smile on his face dripping with malice for Bansion.


Next up are Kana and Lodan...
Jarred sees the two fall and is about to move to gather their limp forms in his arms when Plugg makes his announcement. With one eye to the first mate he lifts Kana easily while motioning for Hiss to grab Lodan.

"Help me with that one, ally. Before anymore blood is shed let us protect those who would aid us later..."
At the final challenge and demonstration of gold "prize" Jarred's breath catches. After some long, internal struggle (during which his eyes remain glued to the first mate's pouch of coin) he takes a deep breath and shakes his head. Turning to Petaba, Thysh, and Catrina he mumbles, "I don't trust him enough to risk my hide for his entertainment. Let's see if any of the rest of the crew will take his challenge, and if not then...maybe..."

The internal struggle seems to come to the front again, and he groans angrily, "Ugh! But the gold! Argh!" With a spit off the side of the deck he carries Kana down below decks, his face awash with conflicting emotions. "Damn this thrice-owed debt! I need that coin!" He hastily places Kana in a hammock before returning to the deck, hunger in his eyes as he looks to see if anyone else has taken the challenge...

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Healing Tanner and the other one could wait. For now, a scheme was hatching in Petaba's mind. The crew looked restless with the departure of the most likely fighters from the newcomers. Petaba steps forward, but still armed and armored, clearly not intending to fight.

"Comrades and otherwise, do not be disappointed! Your entertainment has not yet departed. No, not at all! You see, our mighty combatants must refresh themselves for taking on such a mighty fighter as your own Owlbear! Look at this giant of a man, his fearsome visage! Who among you would want to fight such a man without being prepared in both mind and body? And would you rather see a scuffle on this floor, two men simply grabbing at each other like children with one exhausted and the other chained, or would you like to see a proper fight?" Petaba steps up onto a nearby barrel, making sure everyone can see him. "I tell you now, with but a moment, you will see the most spectacular fight you've seen yet on this ship. You've seen him about, making wicked comments. You even saw him set fire to grog on his first night here! A man of extraordinary violence and foul temper, who will give you a true show. You will see the fighting strength of Jarred the Dragon!"

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred returns to the deck only a moment before Petaba finishes his speech, and catches his newly appointed moniker. With a broad smile and enthusiastic, "Hah!" he steps up beside the half-orc. "I wasn't sure you liked me - good to see that there are others with a head for drama and show!" he mutters to the other before dramatically ripping off his ragged shirt, baring muscles and shaking his mane of red hair dramatically free. Taking a deep breath he spits a burst of fire in a ten-foot cone into the air before shouting, "Alright! Let's do this, 'Birdman!'"

Let's go with an Intimidate check on Owlbear. If anyone else wanted to aid it would be welcome, particularly Petaba since he gave such a great introduction...

Intimidate [roll0] (untrained, possibly with a bonus from the magical display of draconic-nature...? :smallbiggrin:)

[Farmerbink]

Catrina is more than a little shaken as the 6th dawn breaks over the Wormwood. The sudden an unexpected punishment of the night before followed by the firm rebuff from 'the Badger' has left her doubting herself and her abilities more than ever before. As such, when sent to catch rats with Thysh, Catrina doesn't even register her small friend's presence until they're both belowdecks. There, she uncomfortably begins to ease back into her usually-flippant banter, despite the occasional awkward interruption of passing runners.

At the end of the day, a few handfuls of rats get tied into a bag and dumped over the rails, eliciting a begrudging nod of acceptance from the first mate. He seems to like quiet Catrina; the realization draws an irritated scowl to the girl's face.

Eyes wide with both apprehension and a bit of sympathy, Catrina visibly shakes her head to the negative at Pluggs 'offer.' Hells bells! He'd rip my damned arms off for real!

Her expression waxes a hair more concerned until Petaba steps forward to make his declaration. Catrina looks confused for a moment, as if trying to consider Petaba's intentions, before melding into a confident smirk. She doesn't raise her voice, but mutters to herself, "That aughta be fun to watch..."

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

"Alright, everyone! We have a fight on our hands!" Petaba shows his own purse, with a hefty supply of gold in it from the bilges! "Your First Mate Plugg has offered a cash prize to the winner, but that doesn't mean you can't get your own out of this! Place your bets now! Will it be the dragon or the owlbear? Petaba takes a piece of chalk and begins scratching down any wagers.

[3SecondCultist]

The crew gathers around as Petaba makes his declaration, apparently quite interested in seeing the Owlbear and the Dragon fight now that they have not one, but two people on deck actively promoting it. Plugg eyes the half-orc with a skeptical air, but seems willing enough to wait for Jarred's return after he and Hiss have dropped off Kana and Lodan belowdecks. By the time Jarred's profile is visible through the doors, a large circle has formed around the Owlbear, who is being unshackled. The big man looks up at the aasimar, his gaze ponderous. There is no doubt that he does not want to fight Jarred. And yet the touch of the first mate makes him flinch, and reluctantly the scarred man makes his way into the makeshift ring, hunching his shoulders and adopting a brawler's stance. As the dragon-to-be eyes the Owlbear, it's clear that something in his gaze seems to frighten the man, but he is nonetheless ready to fight.

The bets are in before the match begins. "Put me down for 12 gp on the Owlbear," says Jaundiced Jape, who looks at Jarred with an ugly sneer. "And me as well," Tam Tate chimes in. Before even a minute is up, the odds have been set: 2 to 1, in favor of Plugg's pet. None of them have seen Jarred fight before. A few of Petaba's allies have put their faith in the aasimar, however, and there is a modest lump of gold on Jarred's side of the table. The first mate still holds onto his purse, and his eyes never leave the two fighters. He signals Scourge, who leans up and rings the Wormwood's serpentine bell to start the match.

The Owlbear is surprisingly quick for a man of his stature, but Jarred is slightly faster. Before the unarmed man can close the gap, the aasimar has grown a pair of wicked looking talons, raking over his opponent's flesh and rending long gashes in the Owlbear's muscles. The big man cries out in agony, his fears confirmed as his blood is the first to splash the deck. Many of the crew - especially those who had previously bet on the slave - wear expressions of modest surprise. It seems a few of them took Petaba's announcement to be a figurative one. Still, the Owlbear remains standing. What was once fear has been twisted into a fighter's resolve, and he unleashes a devastating counterattack. The first blow his Jarred in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him down to the ship's planks. It is followed suit by a second fist that comes down in a vicious arc, and a resounding crack can be heard as the blow breaks bone and nearly knocks Jarred out of the fight completely. But Jarred is not done. "Just one more hit!", he can hear from Petaba, who watches the fight with interest. With a cry reminiscent of his draconic ancestors, he lashes out in a final, last ditch attempt to bring his assailant down with him. He is fortunate, as the claw connects with the Owlbear's face, causing even more catastrophic damage. Wailing in pain, the muscled brawler backs away, pushing his way out of the ring and forfeiting the match. He doesn't see Jarred collapse from the pain, his eyes closed.

In the span of a few seconds, it is over. Plugg looks after his pet with disgust. Dropping the purse at the feet of the unconscious Jarred, the first mate stalks off without another word. Petaba steps forward and chants a healing spell over Jarred. "You did well, dragon," he whispers. "There is one man still on the field, and so we have a winner!" The crew look to one another, unsure as to the status of the victory. But Petaba's cry is taken up by Jack Scrimshaw and Crimson Cogward, both of who bet on Jarred in the first place. As the money changes hands, the voices of the crew echo over the waves, proclaiming the victor's name.

"JARRED THE DRAGON!"

[Starbin]

Scaled barbarian

As the bodies fell to the deck and were moved aside, the beast watched with little emotion. It looked about, wondering where dinner was, when The long haired one arrived and issued a challenge. The scaled beast turned to gauge the chained man, an eager light in its eyes. Before it could step forward, however, the red haired one touched its arm, whispering in the gutter language. Glaring at the red-hair, the beast hissed in frustration... but reluctantly grabbed the weak one by the belt and threw the body over its shoulder. Stomping to the cots, the lizard tossed the man onto one of the beds. It looked around for items of interest for a moment, then returned to the main deck.

It arrived just as the red head was stepping forward into the ring. Growling, it moved forward to watch, shoving aside those in its way (interestingly enough, those that already didn't care for the lizard). The battle was swift and bloody, and at the end, the red hair was victorious. The lizard watched for a moment, then turned back to the food and grog. Moving to the barefooted woman, the beast used her to hide an attempt to drop its grog overboard.

Trying to avoid the grog ... with help! [roll0]

HPs: 8/13
AC: 12
F +3 R +1 W +1
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog! -1 Con

EDIT: And that should end Hiss' time on the ship ...

[DarkOne-Rob]

As Petaba's magic brings Jarred back to consciousness his eyes pop open. After only a breath to listen to the triumphant cheers of his allies, Jarred realizes he has won! With the same, evil smile on his face he leaps up and crows loudly! Taking his sack of gold the red-head holds it high and yells, "To the victor...the spoils!" With a grin he reaches out to Petaba and slaps his back happily. "Well challenged and assisted, friend. Today you and I enjoy the spoils of battle! Come, let's see to the fallen and drink the ship's vile excuse for liquor!" Turning back to the crowd he basks in the mix of adulation and shocked awe as he watches the ship's first mate leave in embarrassed defeat.

With a happy sigh he turns and takes both Petaba and Hiss by the arms, saying, "Gentleman, thank you for your aid this day. It is good to know that even on a wreck like this one there are allies to be found. Now, come. Kana needs aid, and I cannot give it - I will owe you two favors, Petaba, and one to our mighty scaled friend. Had I fallen I feel confident you would have avenged me on the field of battle!" As Hiss steps aside to enjoy the nights meal Jarred continues below decks, his smile never faltering. Once below decks he directs the half-orc to where Kana lies and waits for her to be roused by the man's magic.

"It seems today was difficult for you, cook's-mate. We will do what we can to help you tonight - remain here and rest. I will bring you dinner. Can you see to that one?" Jarred points to where Hiss has deposited Lodan. "He has started to come around and present himself with strength. I believe it would be well for him to owe a favor..." After waiting a moment for Lodan, Jarred repeats his offer of dinner and then makes his way to the mess deck.

Once there he basks in the glow of the crowd, enjoying the attention. To the questions from the other crew members he explains, "A warrior never shares every weapon in his arsenal - fight beside me and you may see more of the dragons in me!" Otherwise he spends his time telling and retelling exaggerated stories of battles he has fought ashore, before being press-ganged. When the crowd begins to settle into the quiet rhythm of the night, he brings food and water to those below decks and then ends his night happily counting his winnings.

Before collapsing to bed he looks in on his sister. "You have been quiet today - is all well?"

Jarred will bring food to Kana and Lodan after all the healing has been done (and won't bring them grog). Speaking of which - [roll0] (healing from Petaba)...

At dinner Jarred drinks the grog, making a show of downing it in one long pull in spite of the vile stuff.

Grog: [roll1] vs DC 5 or minor addiction
[roll2] Constitution damage
+[roll3] Charisma
[roll4] hours of fatigue

He will entertain the crew for the evening - Perform (Oratory) (untrained) [roll5] (includes the +2 for Jarred influencing ship members but not any bonuses from Grog-Charisma (modified to 24 after including the Charisma bonus).

[n0ble]

Kana sputtered and scowled as the half-orc's healing magic surged through her. She used a forearm to clear the blood from her mouth while cursing in Druidic.

By the scrotum of Tamoreus'. Forgot the sting.

She turned her scowl to the Red-hair "You look like sh!t, someone else's blood I'm guessing? And sh!t on being a cook's mate, name's Kana. No more a cook's mate then that boozing whale blubber pretending to be a cook" Despite her complaints she hungrily wolfs down most of the food he brings her. She grimaces at the chewiness of the dam stuff. Too much gristle to gnaw through. "F!cking Kroop was sh!ttered on rum and cassie."

After finishing her meal she moves over to Lodan and heals him by placing a hand on his whipping wounds. As the Red-hair repeats himself, Kanna goes back to chewing the fat off some gristle. Cant see much strength in getting your @ss kicked. The irony of the thought is not lost on the druid. Still. He'd owe me I suppose.

After the Red-hair leaves to go back up to the topside noise, Kana warily eyes Lodan from across the room, taking his face and arms in for the second time in two days. She turns back to the bone and hunches over it, as if to guard it. After peeling the last bit of gristle from it she looks up at him again and realizes she's staring at him. "So. Wana f!ck?"


Cure light wounds on Lodan: [roll0]
I can roll for Petaba's CLW as well if need be.

[Farmerbink]

Catrina stands by, smirking confidently as the uneasier brute faces off against her brother. A flicker of uncertainty- no, sympathy? passes over her face as the hulk clearly demonstrates reluctance. The surprise that marks most of the crew's expressions is conspicuously absent from Catrina's- as she is at least passingly familiar with her brother's abilities.

Later in the evening, after dinner has been distributed, Catrina joins her brother in revelry at his success. "Perhaps they'll think twice about provoking you in the future!" she offers as an exclamation.

She raises her voice after dinner, calling to Rosie, "Cusswell! Do you know 'The Gorgon's Bride?'" The fiddler strikes a tune, and Catrina joins in- lending a rough but naturally pleasant voice to the tune.


[roll0] vs DC 12 sleight of hand to ditch the booze.
[roll1] untrained perform (sing) to assist Jarred or entertain the pirates.