3SC's Skull & Shackles IC II

[3SecondCultist]

"Skull & Shackles II"

"Until you've lived aboard a ship, I can't expect you to understand. The sun on your face and the sea beneath your feet - it's truly glorious! But more than anything, the pirate's life means having the freedom to come and go as you please and live whatever life you have the steel to take. There aren't any landlubbers calling on you, no duties or responsibilities beyond kin and crew. Nothing compares to being the master of your own destiny and drawing the marrow from the bones of the world. Keep your landlocked cages, the prisons you call cities. I'll die a happy woman on the waves, likely with a smile on my face and a cutlass in my belly!"

- Belina Vontierez, third mate of the Magpie Prince

---

Welcome to Lilywhite

It's the water that wakes you. The comfortable sway of the waves slapping against the hull of the Wyrmborn - your very own fearsome pirate vessel, now replete with armored hull and some ballistae - has been a constant companion to the chorus of grunts and songs on your voyages of late, so you know its rhythm well. More to the point, you know to listen for the absence of such waves. In the past, they have only ever foretold two events: slowing for the purposes of boarding a ship, or else making port. Thankfully, today you know that the latter event is a certainty... even it's hard to ever rule out the former entirely.

As you all make your way amidships and look out over the starboard bow of the ship, you get your first glances at the town of Lilywhite. The settlement curves along the shoreline of Motaku Isle, spreading across bridges to a few small islands sitting in the deep-blue bay. Small, well-made wooden buildings ring the harbor, running in between the first forays of jungle foliage. Several flower and palm-frond garlands hang from various buildings, bridges, and statues. Vessels of varying shapes and sizes jam nearly all the town's long piers, and the great number of ocean-going ships lying at anchor render the outer harbor nearly impassible. Throngs of revelers carouse through the town while singing and drinking from frothing tankards - you can hear the echoing of overly loud voices across the water, above even the incessant gulls and the whistling wind.

One month. It's been one month - give or take a few days - since your crew set out that fateful day from the dingy southern village of Rickety's Squibs and joined the plentiful ranks of the nautical scoundrels and rogues of the Shackles. And what a month it's been. You and the rest of your crew have already braved storms and swarms of grindylows, taken part in a mutiny against a black-hearted first mate, and stolen your fair share of loot, but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of standing on the deck or sails of your very own ship, your destiny unfurling league by blue league on the horizon. Since squibbing and renaming your ship in honor of one of your fallen number, you have taken to the southern passages of the Shackles with some success. Several prizes have fallen into your hands, including a barque from Absalom and a pair of Chelish caravels. And with the victories have come some spoils: coin, but also silks, weapons, and other valuable materials for trade.

The resulting rush to make the most of your winnings has taken the Wyrmborn to ports all across the southern Shackles, from Ngozu to Little Oppara and even to Bloodcove for one rather remarkable evening (then again, not all of you remember that particular sojourn). In your time both on land at sea, you have taken care to allow your name to spread, allowing your crew to tell your tales and leaving strategic survivors to spread the word of your infamous deeds. There are already some in these waters who know to turn and run when they see your sails approaching. However, making names for yourselves as pirates has proven rather slow and difficult work, especially when there are so many other contenders on these waves trying to do the same. To set yourselves a cut above the rest and really prove your worth as pirates worth your salt, you need a touch of destiny, a real story that others can look to in wonder.

That's why, when you first heard word of a woman launching a hunt for an ancient buried pirate treasure from this very port, you weighed your anchor and set sail. The word is, some former first mate by the name of Varossa Lanteri has uncovered a treasure map and is looking for a ship and a crew to help her uncover the plunder of a long lost Free Captain of the Shackles... a captain called Cyrus Wolfe.

Spoiler: Knowledge (Local) DC 12

Show

Lilywhite

Lilywhite is a pirate-friendly settlement constructed around two small islands sitting in the only deep-water cove on Motaku Isle. The sections of Lilywhite away from the mainland are connected to each other and the mainland with numerous wooden bridges. The water in the inner and outer harbors is deep enough that even larger oceangoing vessels can safely dock along the town's piers. Serving as a refuge for followers of Cayden Cailean, the town is known for being a bit less cutthroat than most other settlements in the Shackles, and because of this it often attracts those just starting out in their buccaneering careers.

Lilywhite has avoided being sacked by ruthless captains who might take the town for an easy mark thanks to a well-known myth: any captain who pillages the town disappears, along with her ship and crew, never to be seen again. This makes the town a good 'neutral' site for captains looking to strike deals with a guarantee of a minimum of blood being spilled.

Spoiler: Knowledge (History) DC 20

Show

The Legend of Captain Wolfe

Nearly a century ago, Free Captain Cyrus Wolfe, a black-hearted rogue with an even blacker gift for the dark arts, plied the waters off the western coast of Garund and brought fear to hundreds of ship’s captains and crews. His daring daylight raid on the fortified Thuvian port of Aspenthar directly under the nose of that city-state's admiralty left a dozen of the principality's warships in flames and over a hundred of its citizens carried off as captives for ransom. For that grand audacity, Wolfe was offered the Hurricane Crown by his fellow Free Captains, but it is said that he simply laughed in their faces.

After 3 decades of terrorizing the shipping lanes, Captain Wolfe made his biggest haul ever when he surprised a convoy of Katapeshi treasure ships returning from secret mine holdings on the coast of southern Garund. It is believed that Wolfe divided up his treasure and hid it in several different sites, but the locations of most of them have been lost to time. However, one name has stayed at the forefront of maritime legend as the location of his spoils – Brightglass Island. To dispose of the most valuable portion of his plunder, Captain Wolfe selected an uncharted island somewhere in the Shackles, a location said to be well-hidden and well-defended by both natural and supernatural powers.

And then he disappeared.

Rumors claimed that he had sailed into the Eye of Abendego to prove he that could; that he had finally been caught and executed at the hands of the Katapeshi; or that he had finally challenged the Hurricane King and fallen before his blade. However, nobody knows for sure what became of him, or the site of his lost treasure…

[n0ble]

“<nd there we was, mired in an-afilthied mire most cumbersome, the casteoffs and excrement from the bilge cloying nae-grabbing-”> Kana flung a hand up in a wild, scrabbling gesture that conveyed exactly nothing of the sort of story she was telling. <“-At our legs. Fierce did the vermin gnaw upon these knucklebones of mine and fierce did they come upon us again and again with their mange and yellow’d fang. But they did not come alone. Gangrenous our wounds was afterwards, our fleshes bloated with the mighty illnesses the rats yet carried in that very same yellowed fang that I here have in my possession. Hark! And hark it well my friend, truly and rightly f*cked we were-f*cked I says, like a lone goat amongst Rickety’s squibs, f*cked like a virgin dolphin’s blowhole sat ‘twixt Old Ivy’s legs, f*cked like, uh-”> She stopped mid-rant to scratch at an itch that wormed its way into her scalp.<”-like-hm…Like?! Ehf*ckit- we was f*cked aboard that most nefarious of ships!”> Another series of gestures, these ones a bit more mighty for how choppy they were, yet no more clear in meaning, <“The Wormwood! Captain’d as it was by a man most devoid of sympathies towards companionship. To civilization. Nae, some say to life issel-Oi! Birdbrain! You even listening to this hear yarn that I've seen fit te impart?!>”

Her audience of one had turned to pick away at some shiny part of the gunwhale. <“Oi. Scraw scraw sea-dull, hark you well this ambergris as important.”> She put a free hand on her hip, thought to waggle a disparaging finger in the bird’s direction, then thought better of it, for the wheel needed both her hands at the moment. <"‘Tis good to know of that which may hunt you some day-just as it did us, gull.”> The seagull regarded Kana with a lopsided gaze. It gave its beak a few contemplative clacks, somewhat more quizzical for how its head lolled to the side. Kana took her squint from the horizon and matched the bird’s stare with her own questioning look. The gull sat squatted on the gunwhale’s bannister, its white feathers stippled with a bit of grey sand that stubbornly refused to leave. Paying mind to it, Kana thought the dam thing looked crusty and more than a bit weathered.

The bird stopped its clacking and dropped the lower part of its beak into a mocking chortle that was echoed but what few of its brethren wheeled above. Kana flared her nostrils and bared teeth at the creature and gave consideration towards snatching it away for Kroop’s pots. The chef and the bird had much in common by their temperament, if not not the smell. She pondered a moment and tried to ignore the laughter. Needed at least one hand on the wheel. Blasting it would only send the dam thing over the side and all its feathers over the shipsdeck. And she weren’t rightly about to ask Tanner to deal with a seagull t’was making fun o’ her. Maybe the Chef could forge some sort of diplomacies that were beyond Kana with his cleaver. And some spices. As though sensing some part of her malice, the gull took flight back into the air-though not before parting with a final rib at her. A few little frustrated bolts of light arced their way through Kana’s hair.

<“Not fond o’ me stories eh? Well f*ck. YOU!”> Kana took her good hand off the wheel and raised a middle digit to the gull its flock and f*ck it, why not, the sky too for going on as it was without having her in it. Especially on a day like today. Bereft of lightning or storm cloud. <“AND YOUR F*CKING FLOCK, TOO!”> She dropped the hand back down to the top of the wheel and turned out most of her anger in swinging the great be-spoked circle about.

<“F*ckin’ a*seholes.”> Kana blinked and ran a hand through her hair, giving her scarred shoulders a good roll with the motion. Little bits of her mane-the parts that weren’t fuzzed up with static-leapt up with the wind in her hand’s wake or else snarled around her finger. Kana let out a squawk of pain as she pulled her hair too taught against the wind, then let out a little growl of frustration as her hand met another stubborn whorl. Defeated for the second time in as many minutes, Kana sighed and turned to look to across the crew and back to the horizon. Strange times, when a staring match with a gull yielded being laughed at instead of laughing together. That’s what you get for letting your gob run, Kana.

Tired of fussing about with things that didn’t matter, she snuck a hand onto her person and took out the burnished metal of her spyglass, snapping it open-one handed- before drawing it to her squint. The contraption narrowed things down but brought them closer. Kana allowed herself a small, feral smile at the look of the horizon, made all the better by privacy afforded to the view by the device’s use. Something real to look at. Not civilization's fancy and weird smells. A little bit of longing crept into her gaze and Kana forced it back down under a rapidly evaporating air of good cheer.

<“Mighty fine view.”>

The helmswoman of the Wyrmborn traced her gaze from horizon to her first mate and relented a little bit in time with how pleasing the view became. Heh. Was quite the view, even if the ocean was f*cking her gaze up with how it bobbed and tugged the Wymborn about. Just meant she had to concentrate on him all the harder. No great loss. Werent like the horizon was going anywheres. <“Mighty fine…”> A gull cut through the spyglass’s diameter on a pair of grey-white wings and ruined everything back to the same frustrated feelings Kana had held before. Her face shriveled up into a sour look aimed along the bird’s flight path. F*ckinging peen-sucking c*nt-faced sh*t- <” staining, motherf*cking> landlubbin’, dork-headed. GULLS!” A little arc of static leapt up her back, becalming the helmswoman back into a mire of frustrated thoughts in time with bits of her hair raising on end.

<“Ugh. To> Kroops <pot with the lot o’ of yous.”> Kana hammered the spyglass closed against the shipswheel with the same choppy gesture she’d used before. She shook her head free of the curdled thoughts and re-focused herself on thinkings of the journey as it had been laid out. T’were no good in staring at stern when their destination lay towards the bough.

Kana looked away and made a passing squint at the crew from atop the sterncastle as her gaze to her back to civilization and all its ills.

“The F*CK are you lookin’ at Shortstone?!” She accompanied the disparagment with a great heave of the wheel to starboard.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Good to be back! I've started Kana off behind the wheel but can edit things if people would prefer their character start their and/or would rather she be somewheres else. Anything bracketed with < or > is spoken in druidic.

Knowledge Geo.: (1d20+9)[16]

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh's eyes split slowly open, closing again briefly at the harsh light pouring through the small porthole near her hammock. She groaned, and tried briefly to fall back asleep, pulling various warm odds and ends closer around herself; a blanket, a cloak, a pillow, perhaps an arm? The racket from somewhere above of Kana picking a verbal fight with something kept her mildly awake. It was impressive of the helms-woman, in Thysh's opinion, to be able to craft the subtle words of what Thysh assumed to be Druidic into something that could ring so clearly through the rest of the ship. Of course, it would be unfair not to add that part of why the small gnome could sleep so soundly amid the dangers of the sea was a deep and abiding trust that Kana's voice would wake her if anything went too wrong.

Thysh sat up and began untangling herself from her sleeping arrangements. Pulling herself free, she stumbled her way to the deck-door, finding her legs beneath her as she walked out into the sun. Not a bad day, all told. Sun's out, water's not washing over the hull. Kana's deep in what I can only assume is a heated philosophical argument with... a seagull? Hmn... a Tuesday, then. Thysh made her way over to the side of the ship, leaned on the gunwales, and took a moment to look out over the city beyond. Pretty sure that wasn't there before I went to sleep...

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Knowledge: Local: (1d20+1)[14]
Knowledge: History: (1d20+5)[19]

[Farmerbink]

Catrina wakes, astonishingly well-rested. A few days travel with nothing much to do besides keep the ship afloat will do that, I suppose.

Still dressed only in a simple linen undergarment, she opens a heavy-braced window and is greeted by clear skies and the angry keening of a particularly-upset sounding helmswoman. Despite the language, her displeasure is notable, and Catrina finds herself chuckling quietly at the reliably overbearing woman's tirade.

She breaks her fast in solitude, as has become her custom in the last month. She begins slowly dressing while she peers out the wide windows of the captain's quarters, pondering many things: The crew's needs, Jarred's loss, Jack and him stealing her damned hat. Should be making landfall this morning. No storms last night to divert or slow us down... Banishing her scowl, she shoves open the door and struts onto the main deck.

Almost immediately, she spies Thysh, and saunters over to a bare spot of gunwale beside the Gnome. "Mornin', Blue," she mutters in greeting, gently mussing the short woman's hair with a lazy flop of her hand. "Ready to feel dry land underfoot again?" She listens politely, having long since developed a fondness for the unflappably optimistic little woman.

landlubbin’, dork-headed. GULLS!”

Catrina snorts, an astonishingly indelicate sound from such an undeniably cute snout. She indicates Kana with a sideways nod of her head. "She might like landfall even less than me." Chuckling quietly, she looks back toward their next stop.

Her eyes track the approaching shoreline with an expression mingling eagerness and displeasure- hard to amass a fortune without selling off your prizes, but there's just something unsettling about footing that doesn't move with you....

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh responds to the hair-tussling with a gentle poke to the ribs, but the smile on her face makes it clear she enjoys the contact. She's grown to trust the rest of the crew over the last few months, or rather, she's grown to trust them in the way that Thysh trusts people: that is, to be themselves. Now that she feels she knows everyone a bit better, she can place more trust in them, and Cat in particular has seen them through enough trouble lately that Thysh's trust in her is almost unconditional. Further, she's been finding lately that the normal, day-to-day metahuman contact of life on the ship helps drive away the fogs that once clouded her mind. She's been feeling good lately, and places the blame, such as it were, on her crewmates.

"'Morning, Cat." She spent a while, a few weeks back, trying to find a good nickname that walks the line between 'Cat' and 'Captain', but in the end settled on just Cat as her preferred way to address the blue-eyed buckler of swashes.

[WalkingTheShade]

It doesn't feel like waking up. Lodan feels like he's just been watching the ceiling from his hammock, rocked this way and that. He rises up, mechanically, dropping his blanket on the floor, puts his shirt on. He gets up on the main deck, grabs a morning biscuit from whoever's distributing them. He throws a short look towards Kana, yet again in one of her nonsensical conversations with yet another critter, and turns his face away before she can notice. From below the main mast, he takes a short routine survey of the sails and rigging, pretty sure everything is alright anyways. We're getting to port. Everyone on crew seems enthusiastic enough to get to the nearest bottle of booze, no need for their first mate to remind them how to do their task.

Lodan sighs and rolls his shoulders to conjure away aches from a sleepless night. Or maybe he's been sleeping. He has strange, unclear recollections of half-formed thoughts. Maybe waking dreams. He walks up to the prow of the ship, oblivious to his crewmates looks or salutes.

He inhales the breeze, taking in the smells of brine, unusually laced with the most discreet tinge of civizilation, smoke from cooking pots, animal waste and something else he can't quite nail down. His eyes give Lilywhite's cove a wide embrace, searching for something out of his nightly digressions: A sandy beach, a white house, something or somewhere that'd feel like home.

His reverie is interrupted by Fleabag, standing next to him, paws on the bulwark, tongue lolling out, panting. "What? Tired of Kana's conversation?" The dog tilts its head marginally, triggering a cloud of startled fleas. His tail starts slowly wagging. "Kroop keeps telling me I should eat more, you know?" The dog keeps staring at Lodan, who relents, opening his hand, giving the dog his biscuit. Fleabag immediately wolfs it down, leaving some spit on Lodan's hand, and sits on his haunches, giving the human another look. "Only one I had." Lodan pats the dog on the head, more to wipe his hand, on the few fur the dog has left, than out of affection. "Go catch a rat or something. I swear I should starve you so you put some heart at your only job aboard this mad boat." Lodan turns back to the cove. The dog joins him again, forelegs on the bulwark, tongue lolling out in the breeze.

[Farmerbink]

Catrina eyes Lodan peripherally as he dotes upon the slightly-mangy critter. She rolls her eyes to Thysh, but the expression has long since abandoned any semblance of legitimate distaste. Snorting quietly, she makes her way to the ship's bell.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Wincing just a little, she climbs the stairs to the poop deck, waiting the arrival of her crew. It doesn't take long, as those peals might well have woken the dead, and almost certainly did nothing to ingratiate the Wyrmborn to the other ships they're joining in port.

She waits patiently, and it doesn't take long for the crew to gather. She offers a short nod of acknowledgement to the swab passing out biscuits from Kroop when the few stragglers arrive. After a final glance to verify that everyone is on the main deck before her (except Kana at the wheel, behind), Catrina breaks the silence. "Welcome to Lilywhite, boys and girls! Welcome, likewise, to your first taste of liberty since Squib's.

As most of you no doubt already know, this is a business stop. We'll be unloading cargo, payin' some wages, and setting our course over the next day or two. What this means is simple: we sleep on the ship at night, and we don't get arrested. Ya keen?
I'm not breaking down walls to get you back onboard when we set sail, so if you can't play nice enough to bed on your own, it's only yourself gonna pay for it." She lets the words hang for a moment, and offers a few poignant glares to the more notorious of the groups' troublemakers. "That's for your benefit, Cogward," she reiterates with a pointed glance.

Breaking into a smile, she continues: "As always, there's a recruitment bonus for anyone who encourages a competent, able-bodied, warm-blooded landlubber to join us! More crew means bigger bites, and you all know what that means. Finally, in case anyone's expecting to run off to one of these other..." her eyes wander the nearby vessels, and she gestures accordingly, "dinghies, just know that you're missing out on the loot of Cyrus Wolf! For that's where we're headed next. And don't think for a minute we'll be letting any of those other bastards as call themselves 'captain' find it before us." She snorts, clearly unimpressed.

"To your posts! Bring us in to moor nice 'n easy, and we can all have lunch at a table. With chairs! Dismissed!" She turns away, ostensibly to speak with Kana, but really just to punctuate the dismissal.

Taking up a relaxed stance near the wheel where she can see everything happening below, Catrina spends several moments surveying her crew and the ships drifting at anchor nearby. After a time, she smirks slightly and murmurs to the helmswoman. "Showtime!"

[WalkingTheShade]

Lodan joins the crowd to listen to their captain's speech. He shows not much reaction, only raising an eyebrow and pursing his lips to Cogward, with an air of I-told-you-so, when the latter is mentionned.

[Starbin]

<b>Fueryon Blackscale - Sea Dog</b>

The beast was in the crow’s nest as was often the case. He preferred to greet the dawn from the secluded spot ... and few of the others felt comfortable around the sleeping behemoth. He was there, peering out across the horizon as the neared their destination of Lilywhite. He glanced down to the forecastle, where Kana shouted at a bird. He saw Lodan moving among the crew, checking riggings and sails. He spotted Thysh and Catrina arrive topside and greet each other. While he was a part of the crew, he still felt apart ... as if he were more mascot than comrade at arms. Perhaps that’s what he was ....

When the ship’s bell rang, Fury slid down the ropes and took a position in the shadows but within earshot of the Captain. He listened to Catrina’s rule, glancing over the rest of the crew. The ones that noticed his attention seemed skittish, eyes darting continually to the blackscaled a warrior. His spot tests had become infamous, quickly teaching the unwary and unprepared to change quickly. No o e had died, but several sported new scars ... including Fury. When Catrina issued her orders, he waited for her stern warning before he hissed loudly. When several crew members spun on their heels to adopt a fighting stance, the lizard nodded slowly in approval.

With a sly smile to the Captain, he muttered, ”Ready ...”

---

And we’re back!

Spoiler: Status

Show

HPs: 51 AC: 17 CMB/D: +10/21
F +6 R +3 W +2 Initiative +2
Perception +10; Climb +12; Swim +13; Intimidate +17; Rage 10/12
Equipment: +1 longspear (+11, 1d8+7)
Effects: none

[3SecondCultist]

Catrina's announcement on deck is met with a series of raucous cheers and a few whistles. Clearly, the prospect of port has been on your crewmembers' minds. Cogward - who is one of the members of your crew to whirl at Fury's hiss - grumbles about being singled out. He meets Lodan's gaze and his scowl intensifies. "I just... I don't see what everyone was gettin' so fussed about," he says to the first mate, "it was them Sargavan bastards what started it." Letting out a deep breath, he heads to the boats along with just about everyone else, minus a few who have volunteered or had the misfortune of being chosen to stay behind and guard the boat. Among that number is Rosie Cusswell and Conchobar Shortstone, who everyone on the ship know are now engaged in rather... enthusiastic amorous relations.

With all the spots at the harbor currently full, you've been forced to drop anchor just off of shore and row or swim in. The oppressively sunny tropical sun beats down on your backs as most of the sailors of the Wyrmborn set out on the two ship's boats into harbor. As you've only got room for the two boats on board, understandably this makes for a rather long wait, and a few of the braver souls on your vessel elect to swim the sixty or so feet to the beach. Before long, Wyll Morgan, Cogward, and a few others seem engaged in a swimming race to see who will make it to land first. Once ashore, the majority of your crew head to Cailean's Keg, the largest, most comfortable, and most well-reputed tavern and drinking hall in town. However, it takes only dropping the name of Varossa Lanteri on the street to get directions to where she is in town: an apparently not as well-liked establishment a bit further inland by the name of the Godspit Inn.

When the five of you arrive at the inn itself, you see that it is well worthy of its reputation. Sitting at the top of a small hill, this a two-story building made of wood that looks old and warped. Here and there, you spot the occasional bit of tarnished brass used as decorative ornaments. Inside, the interior is brightly lit with oil lamps and smells strongly of unwashed bodies and smoky fires. Seats are scattered around mismatched tables and crates. There is also a spiral staircase that looks like it might lead up to a second floor, and a smaller set of steps that lead up to a partially closed off alcove. However, the main feature lies in the center of the main room's floor: a recessed circle of rough stone earth, ringed by a series of heavy posts bound together by heavily knotted rope that looks like it came from an old ship's line.

God's pit, indeed.

As your group is entering the inn, another small crew of three or four seems to be in the midst of storming off from the direction of the raised alcove. "What a greedy b*tch, I can't believe she wanted half of the treasure. She doesn't even have a ship!" grouses a muscled and Garundi man as he leads off a pair of other sailors. He pushes past you without noticing you, leaving the Wyrmborn ship's officers as another five faces in the crowd. The inn is busy enough that there don't seem to be any free tables, and as you watch another party of three - a big half-orc, a Rahadoumi man in silks, and what looks like a female drow with a very fine hat - get up and prepare to approach the alcove landing.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Link to Roll20 (you need to join and launch the Skull and Shackes game to see the full Godspit Inn)

Well, this is it! Sorry for the railroading, but this is ideal to move us forward a bit and give all of you a chance to act in this central scene. If you'd rather not join this main scene for whatever reason, just message me on Discord and we can figure out what else you might be doing, and if you would want any of your other NPC crew members to join your PC.

[Farmerbink]

Catrina considers swimming ashore for a few long heartbeats before forcing her way onto a longboat. "Wouldn't be the right impression for the captain to be all soggy trying to haggle," she mutters, by way of explanation. She saunters onto the docks and stands watching the swimmers race. Before long, most of the other occupants of the first skiff cheer, already getting into the amusing mirth of a few days liberty. When Cogward "accidentally" dunks Wyll, all-but drowning the other while he scrambles over and past him, Catrina openly laughs. The ploy proves fruitful and the ever-willing brawler is the first of the swimmers to slap a hand roughly against the pier.

Once he scrambles atop it, Catrina flips him a gold coin with a wink. "To the winner, the spoils!" She encourages him to walk beside her a few paces towards the shore. "I know you already know better, and it was their fault," she whispers, conspiratorially. "but I can't be playin' favorites, and I know you know how to handle a joke. Watch Wyll and the rest of 'em. Get 'em back on my ship, whatever it takes, aye?" Cogward so "deputized," the young captain makes her way towards their quarry, following the whispered path.

In the Godspit Inn, Catrina's eyes take in the masses gathered. More than a few obvious captains have gathered here, their intentions obvious. She lets the muscled fellow push past with his lackeys without any conflict, though she scowls a bit at his reckless speech. The value of half depends a lot on the whole, doesn't it? she wonders. For certainly not the first time, she debates internally the wisdom of this course.

"Lodan, Hiss. Be dears and find us a place to sit, eh? Seems we might be here a while, if she's sticking to 'first come, first serve.'" Catrina saunters up to the bar, using every bit of allure and confidence she can muster to weasel through the throng. Only once she's there does she reach into her blouse, near the laces of her corset, to open the smaller pouch of coin she's brought ashore (the vast majority of her coin being locked in a chest in her cabin, of course). She places a pair of rough gold coins on the bar. She eyes the barkeep (her attitude either sultry or playful, depending on the barkeeper's apparent gender and tastes) "I see Mistress Lanteri's brought ya no small bit of business. I hear she's planning to make a partnership, and I intend to be on the other end of it. What can you tell me about her? Oh, and a drink would be grand."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

I suppose diplomacy is most apt, but I'd sure prefer bluff or intimidate. Does anyone in the group have good diplomacy? Catrina may not be the best one to seek info...
(1d20)[5] (+5 diplo, +9 intim, +15 bluff)

[WalkingTheShade]

On their way to Godspit, Lodan adresses his crewmates. "Too much animation in town and too many docked ships. If we reach a deal with Lanteri, we'll have to smuggle her on board the Wyrmborn. If she's seen coming aboard, it may give other captains ideas: Either follow us and try to beat us to our prize, our ambush us on our way back."

"Even if we like what she offers, we might be better of by refusing her at first publicly, then trying to reach her more discreetly to accept."

When they enter the Godspit, Lodan leads the others towrds a free table. He takes his time sizing the patrons in the room.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Perception - (1d20+3)[20]

[3SecondCultist]

While your captain heads to the bar, Lodan and Fury are the first to step into the void left by the trio of other professional sea raiders. As the large half-orc in the other party stands to his feet, you note that he's nearly the same size as the nagaji: although he has something of a pot belly, his arms and barrel chest look more than athletic enough. This bruiser wears no armor on his upper body or torso and carries no traditional weapons, although both his left arm and leg are bound up in what look like rope and chain. He gives Fury a proper once over before joining his captain on the upper deck of the inn's ground floor.

Besides the half-orc, you see a whole menagerie of figures in the Godspit. There are colorful scoundrels exchanging furtive words over cups of ale or grog, hard-eyed men and women all. Lodan's wary eyes spot a dark-skinned youth no older than seventeen with golden eyes watching the proceedings, and their eyes meet across the bar before the young man looks away. There is also a third unmistakable crew of pirates playing cards absentmindedly, but their eyes have not left your group since you all arrived. One man among their party has too idly left a pistol on the table, while an elf in a sea-blue cloak fails to conceal a smirk behind her hood. Another pair - a man with too many knives and a halfling with what looks like some kind of barbed spear - step outside another pairs to the north, but not before giving you a surreptitious glance. Of the alcove deck at the top of the stairs, you can see more figures but it's difficult to make out specific details through the chaos of the inn's floor.

At the bar, Catrina finds herself face to face with an older looking bar-back who is in the middle of getting drinks and some food out to patrons while they drink and amuse themselves. He takes the coin with a nod of thanks, but the expression is quickly replaced with a sigh and exasperated laugh when she asks about Lanteri. "Great Drowned God, only you and every sailor-jack between here and Port Peril wants to know the same, lass. I've had at least six others ask me the same question today. She's sitting right up at the top of the stairs, why don't you go and find out for yourself, aye?" He takes the captain's drink order without complaint though, and delivers it promptly.

[Farmerbink]

Catrina sighs, deflating. "Yeah, I figured. Thought maybe they'dve been even cheaper than me!" She feigns a pout, displaying more of her lips and fair jawline than is even remotely necessary before raising the mug in a gesture of appreciation and surrender. "Get me four more, would ya?"

With two mugs each gripped tightly in each hand and a third balanced precariously atop the left pair, she dances lightly back towards her officers. With a glance, she indicates the top mug to Kana and lets her take it, before placing its 3 still-full companions on the table. "Take the edge off," she offers, taking another slow drought of her own drink. "Seems we're in crowded company, if not good." She purses her lips thoughtfully as her gaze drifts upwards.

After a moment, she frowns instead.

[n0ble]

"Oi, d!ckless, the f*ck'd you learn to run a sail at, the Gnoll Knolls? Skies above, ye'd think people had wood to spare with how they ran skiffs about this place, eh Cap'n?"

She gave her neck a good crick, slung quarterstaff to shoulder, gave her shoulders a good roll and walked herself over to Cusswell. "Cusswell! Maybe we needs to make hasty retreat from this port should things things go bends-up. Before you fall to wrangling the one-eyed monster-" Kana gave a great circular gesture with her good hand to encompass the sails of the Wymborn's sails, "-see she's well and ready for quick sail. 'Lest we all find daggers of a different sort stabbing at our insides, nae?" Kana wheeled, stopped, then turned back to face the swearsome woman. "Oh. And should nae a drop of me drink," Kanas hand dropped to one of the two absinthe bottles hitched to her belt, jostling at it for emphasis, "Or the smokes not about me person or provisons or by all the ****ing bones of the ocean, by all the trees not yet plucked for shipswood-" Kanas face flashed to the darkness of an angry storm cloud,"-and the hounds of the Dread Duppy hisself so help me if anyone on this here big-ar*sed manatee of a ship should touch me fishing rods and sea lures its to the next squall we sail through we the lot've ye, savy? Mm." Kana grunted out a parting "Good.", then gave Cusswell a nod and offered forearm to clasp by way of affirmation. Then she made for the mast topped with the crow's nest and gave it a right good thumping with the black wood of her staff.

She slobbered up "Fureyon! <I would test these mammalian flippers against the might of its reptillian forebears, come race me to shore,>"that we may show these landlubbers the difference between actively drowning and swimming, <what say you,> mm? I would wager...a cask of me best rums against the-the-**** the scale of your strength!" Again, no time for pausing, again she turned to greet civilzation proper-turning her backside to her. Kana clasped her arms above her head and laced her hands together, pushing them up higher and yet higher again i into the air, into the sky until she felt her shoulders and back pop with a most satisfying relief of pressure. For a moment she watched to gauge the great bastion of strengths reaction, then made to turn her self and finally face the sounds of civilization.

'Twas scant comfort what greeted her, but then she'd expected as much. Didnt need a spyglass to see the worst of it, for her nose was plenty enough experienced at discerning vomit from muck and muck from blood. A nervous bit of energy laced from Kana's hands to her hair as she dropped the former down to her waist. Right. She stooped over and touched her toes. Withdrew the knife in her boot and cut yet another strip of cloth from her breeches and tied back her hair, tugging it back down against an invisible wind that had capered it up in her hand's absence. At the same time Kana kicked off one boot. A nervous energy came to her chest, crashing down onto her heart like lightning, then rumbled down into her guts like thunder. And it wasnt from the prospect of a race.

"****." Me other boot. Kana sat down and waited a bit more for the blackscaled titain to descend, passing the time by way of wrastlin' her other boot free. She craned her neck, bit in deep to it's leather and pulled with her jaw, hands and growl. She'd not thought on how much force had been applied and flopped backwards onto her. Well her back. <<"Kana you are an ugly hag of a woman. And you will die alone.">> The orphaned boot had provided a good distraction, but with it's abscence the same jitters returned on again and again and again. Kana closed her eyes for a minute and breathed deep, took in a moment of sun, then let the breath out in time with her eyes opening. Huh. Overcast. She felt the thumping inside bleed into the air, shaking the motes of and currents. It reminded her of a tune. Kana rose to standing. Tunelessly, like a tone-deaf gull cheered with the bloat of a dead whale's carrion, without a free thought to anyone else's thoughts, Kana began to sing:

"Oh, we'd be alright if the wind was in our sails
We'd be alright if the wind was in our sails
We'd be alright if the wind was in our sails
And we'll all hang on behind...

And we'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
And we'll all hang on behind!

She leapt to the gunwhale and snatched at a rigging rope for balance, hollering her shanty-challenge to the people of Lilywhite. Kana increased her volume to a most thunderous dirge.

Oh, we'd be alright if we make it on 'til morn
We'd be alright if we make it on 'til morn
We'd be alright if we make it on 'til morn
And we'll all hang on behind...

And we'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
And we'll all hang on behind!

Well a night on the town wouldn't do us any harm
A night on the town wouldn't do us any harm
Oh, a night on the town wouldn't do us any harm
And we'll all hang on behind!

Kana had spent life in a grotto. The word chariot was foreign to her conceptions as water's air content was alien to a drowning man's lungs. But that didnt stop her from bellowing that particular word loud as she good, with all the good cheer she could muster. "Take it away Fureyon!" She pumped her free fist into the air, true joy writ plain upon her face.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Perform? Perform: (1d20-1)[3]

Edit: She's a natural! Oh and <> is spoken in aquan, <<>> is spoken in druidic.

[WalkingTheShade]

The morning revery has been replaced by another kind of single-mindedness. His posture relaxes, his breathing and heart somehow slow down, but his eyes, darting this way and that, betray something else. Even under the tropical sun, Lodan feels drowned in darkness, unknown faces nimbed in sunlight somehow appearing and disappearing. He watches peoples hands, their stance, looking for signs. It's become part of him. His mind seems to be doing it on its own. Minding every corner, every alley, on their way through Lilywhite. In the Godspit, sizing the patrons. Watching always watching.

And then, at night, the true night, those same faces and alleys will reappear to replace his sleep with an ungodly maze.

Lodan gets his drink from his captain. "Thanks," he says, his tone polite but not sincerly grateful.

Lodan has sitted himself in a way to face the dark youth with the light eyes. He sizes him as he talks with his fellow officers.

"Fury, twenty golds on you, if you go answer that chained idiot in that fortunate pit. You winning would go a long way to get the honourable patrons of this fine establishment thinking before messing with us. Of course, losing..." a playful smile hints at Lodan's mouth, "well, you're not gonna loose, are you? Gimme a nod, and I'll go arrange that fight the proper way."

He turns to Blue, half hidden behind oversized table and mug. "Of course, our Ship Mage should watch over the duel, to prevent any sorcerous trick."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Stealth or Bluff - (1d20+11)[22] (both have the same mod) so the other guy doesn't realize he's being watched.

Perception - (1d20+3)[5], concentrating on the "dark-skinned youth no older than seventeen with golden eyes". Dressed like a sailor or a local town dweller? Is he armed? How so? Does he seem to be with one of the crews assembled here (the description leaves that somewhat ambiguous).

Most importantly: Does he seem to be watching someone specific or the assembly on general? Supposing Catrina tells us our prospective client is upstairs, is he watching the stairs?

I guess they don't have those fastfood baby chairs in the Godspit, so we can get Thysh at eye level?

[Starbin]

Fueryon Blackscale - Sea Dog

Before ...
The black-scaled spawn peered down at the diminutive woman, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what she wanted. She was typically a fountain of profanity and threats, which didn't bother him, but it often made it difficult to understand what she was saying. Regardless, it was obvious she was calling him down. And it apparently had to do with flippers.

Sliding down the ropes, the nagaji stalked over to Kana, watching as she cut strips from her pants and tied her hair back, then attacked her boots and tried to eat one. Somehow, she lost both boots in the struggle and ended up ass over end. She starred into the sky, silent for moment, then began to scream in what surely was a war cry of some sort. However, the cadence and rhythm of her words suggested something more; a spell perhaps? Maybe it was designed to drive away any enemies of the ship? Or a summons to the screech birds that incessantly hovered around the ship.

Suddenly, she turned to him and shouted, "Take it away, Fureyon!" The brute stared, unblinking, then slowly turned to take in the activity on and around the deck. With one slow blink, he saw as others began to strip down, and shouts of 'Race! Race! Race!' were being chanted. Glancing back at Kana, he pointed to his chest, head tilted quizzically to the side. Then, with a shrug of his huge shoulders, he stepped forward and stripped down to a loin cloth that did little to stifle the imagination of anyone there. Fortunately for all there, the ebon warrior was not nearly as excited about this as everyone else was ... else it would have been awkward. Instead, he moved to the edge of the boat and waited, unmoving.

Once the race was started, he dove down into the water and disappeared under the surface. At first, those watching from the ship wondered if Fury had struck his head, or been eaten by some sea life. However, after a few moments, a black-scaled head broke the surface, accompanied by two huge arms that churned through the water like giant pistons - unstoppable, implacable machines.

---

Now ...
At the table, Fury turned to Lodan, then glanced at the target he marked. Normally, he would have simply walked over and gutted the fool. Apparently, Lodan sought a message, not murder. Nodding slowly, he stood and stretched, staring down the big man with a look that suggested the nagaji was hungry. Or horny. Or perhaps both ... but either way, he stood ready to f*(k up the other man.

---

So let’s do this - for the race, how many checks do you want? I figure Fury will start taking 10 (for 23), but if he starts to feel competitive, he may actually try.

For the half-orc ... giving him the eye. I suppose we can wait on Intimidate checks right now

Spoiler: Status

Show

HPs: 51 AC: 17 CMB/D: +10/21
F +6 R +3 W +2 Initiative +2
Perception +10; Climb +12; Swim +13; Intimidate +17; Rage 14 rounds
Equipment: +1 longspear (+11, 1d8+7)
Effects: none

[n0ble]

Kana passed the time of Fureyon's descent by pivoting her heel, making sure her grip was nice and tight on the rope, and spinning about in a few lazy circles. She took care not to clip anyone else with her free heel and, naturally, kept on a-singing:

Oh, a drop of Barnabus' blood wouldn't do us any harm,
Oh, a drop of his man Plugg's blood wouldn't do us any harm,
Oh, a drop of Scourge's blood wouldn't do us any harm,
An' we'll all hang on beh-oh****itson!

She ducked low into one final swing round the gunwhale, leaping in time with the force to heave herself into a dive out over the gunwhale. "WAHOOOO-" The sound of her joy was abruptly cut off as first her hands, then face then the rest of her body plumbed the ocean's blue at a steep vertical. Kana's feet let off a small salvo of furtive kicks before disappearing under the water and she giggled in time with the rapid gesture. The quaterstaff and breath she'd taken in with descending acted to help heave her from the shallow dive, and Kana kicked and flipped onto her back in time with breaching that most blue of surfaces. She rose with a mad grin and shower of spray, backstroking in efficient, economical chops that took most advantage of the ocean-her oceans- pitching and currents. She held the quarterstaff in her middle with whatever hand wasnt cutting through the water, keeping herself above the water with its buoyancy, dolphin-kicking all-the while. Civilization could wait to be seen. For now all Kana needed was the sound of the water and competition in her ears and the blue sky above her.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Good with rolling if you want. Kana can also take 10 for 23 but im good with just doing one roll to catch up more in the present if that works.

Swimming, if you want: [roll0]

---

Now.

Well. Things could have been worse. More people could have been staring. Making contact with land had, when coupled with the journey to the tavern, had thoroughly divested Kana of the good humors her time in the water had accrued. Things felt hot. Muggy. Borderline-opressive, even. And there werent no blue sky to look up at, away from all the staring. Kana grunted an "Ugh." out. Werent no exits'cept for maybe the doorway she'd just come through, and there werent no way she was about to turn herself around. Not after the torturous slog away from the ocean. Well and truly f*cked this place is, little sister. If you could but see how these landlubbers live. "F*cking depths."

Kana wondered, and not for the first time, what would possess a person to place such stock in things like doubloons and gems, especially given in how they were frittered away for headaches and the promise of whatever answers lay at the bottom of a bottle. Kana had searched for her fair share of the latter in the months since the mutiny, finding no more answer than the way a carnivore might find kelp a meal. It had left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth, and not just from drinking too much too often. Her mind had always lay towards greater treasure, and it was the thought this treasure that was as an iron reassurance on her mind amidst all the sidelong glances and snickers that typically kept her away from land. Such was what she left in her wake on the way to the bar, holy ignorant of what other people might be saying in her quest to be left the f*ck alone.

She hailed the closest person behind the bar. "Aye, rumkeep. I would break words lubricated-" Kana reached down to where she had hitched her land-drink and withdrew what she'd meant for trade: a bottle of absinthe, a bottle of sea-lord wine, another bottle of absinthe, something Kroop had called "a mighty-well aged bottle o' Selkie's Spit"-at which Kana had taken him for his word-and two jars of sugared lemons, "-with drink I've no need for. See that the former-" Kana pushed the bottle of absinthe forward "-is exchanged to your topmost shelf for mug, and water without end to fill it. The other-" Kana maneuvered the second bottle of absinthe, fine bottle of wine and two jars of sugar lemons across a particularly ornery-looking splotch on the bar "-I would see as drink and garnish for those that frequent this fine watering hole, on caveat that it all of it be gone hence my Captain's departure." She took out the final bottle and gave it a good waggle in front of the bar keeps face. "And another but only for those that would lend me water amidst a sea of ale." Kana lent whoever was behind the bar a friendly smile, somewhat crooked for the cut of her teeth and the scar that hooked across her cheek, then waited for her water.

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh, having transitioned strictly to the present tense some time ago, finds herself considering the ups an downs of loosening her temporal attachment once more with the help of the mug placed on the table before her. As always, she has some trouble convincing herself to take a sip, but eventually does. It's those pesky memories that hinder her inebriation, flickering neural pathways bringing forth images of their first few days aboard the ship, drinking poisoned grog and dying. These days, she is more hesitant to lose herself to the oblivion of alcohol. Then again... She knows that one drink, nursed over the course of an afternoon or an evening, will not do her harm. She takes another sip.

When Lodan starts talking in her direction, it takes her a moment to realize she is being addressed. She's been gazing out over the crowd, not really paying attention in a remembering kind of way, but daydreaming about each person she sees. Who they might be, why they might be here. The first-mate's words call her back to a more specific here in the broader here and now.

"Sure, I could do that! Make sure nobody dies horribly from internal bleeding, that sort of thing." She grabs the edges of the stool beneath her and jump-hops it around the table to get closer to Lodan and Fury. When she's close enough to talk more privately, she leans in and says: "I'll keep an eye on things, or perhaps two eyes, one normal and one occult, but I'll not be a whole lot of help in a physical sense if something goes down. You gonna get some of the rest of the crew on standby in case a larger fight breaks out?"

[3SecondCultist]

As the five of you sit at the table in the middle of the Godspit floor and enjoy your beverages to varying degrees, the noise of the place ebbs and flows over you. More than once, you watch patrons enter and exit, noting the figures that stay put for longer periods of time: the card-playing crew and the man with the golden eyes are those who seem to be lingering the longest. The former group is very carefully not looking at the business going on at the top of the upper deck landing, while the latter figure continues to peer surreptitiously around the bar. Lodan can make out that he isn't looking at anyone in particular, and he finishes his drink and eventually makes his leave without turning back. Whatever purpose compelled him to this place appears to be resolved for now.

But you have more immediate concerns - after what is either ten minutes or half an hour, it's hard to be certain, two figures make their way to the middle of the stairs. The one standing in front is the same drow woman that you noticed leading her companions up there when you first entered the inn. The second woman cuts a much more petite and slender figure, standing at just over five and a half feet tall. She wears her shoulder-length chestnut colored hair in a ponytail under a feathered hat nearly as fine as the long brocaded burgundy coat she has draped over her shoulders. She carries a leather bag over one arm, while bearing both undrawn blade and holstered gun on either hip. Her keen glasz gaze carries over the room and a smile plays on her lips.

"For those of you who don't know me," she calls out over the din, "my name is Varossa Lanteri, formerly first mate of the Magpie Prince. My business is finding a long-lost treasure, plain and simple, and I've put out the call for able crews to help me on my way. Now this able bodied lady to my right," she holds up the drow woman's arm, "Captain Llara of the Last Song, has offered me a fair bid on my venture... but I'm sure there are others interested in the profit and fame that goes into a find like this! The hoard of Cyrus Wolfe is legend in these waters, after all. So here and now, any crew that is interested in a counter-offer is free to make a claim before my friends and I make our choice of escort!"

Spoiler: Varossa Lanteri

Show

Spoiler: Knowledge (Local) DC 18

Show

Varossa Lanteri - once known as Varossa Ia-Tep years ago - first came to the attention of the Shackles pirate community when she became first mate to the infamous Captain Warvil Lanteri. Warvil and Varossa's paths crossed when both led their ships, the Magpie Prince and the Shark Queen, respectively, to attack the same Taldan merchant ship. With neither willing to cede the prize, the encounter became a race to see who could take the ship first. When both pirate crews boarded, though, they discovered that the merchant was conveying a band of Taldan mercenaries, and the two pirate captains found themselves in a pitched battle against a common foe rather than in a race to snatch an easy prize. In the ensuing conflict, both the Taldan vessel and the Shark Queen sank, and most of the Magpie Prince's officers and riggers were killed. But the two captains survived and managed to salvage much of the trade ship's cargo before it slid beneath the waves. Impressed by each other's valor and prowess, Warvil and Varossa decided to join forces, combining their surviving crews to continue their careers in the single remaining vessel.

While her position was technically first mate, the truth of the matter was that Varossa was a captain in fact if not in name. Working in close proximity with Warvil led to a passionate romance blooming between the two. By the time they reached a safe port, Warvil and Varossa had used their authority at sea to marry, and declared both ship and crew to be under their mutual command. Varossa adopted her husband's surname to further distance herself from her overbearing family, and the two pirates tore a ragged path across the shipping lanes of western Garund for several years. Their situation was always unstable - even when times were good, their marital fights were legendary - but as long as plunder was plentiful, the arrangement seemed to work. When times were leaner, the crew often wondered which spouse would kill the other first.

Recently, Warvil and Varossa parted ways... violently. Although the inciting incident that led to the conflict wasn’t clear, whatever it was that came between them resulted in Warvil dead and Varossa defending herself against a mutiny. The results of the mutiny were not conclusive at first, but in the months that have ensued, word has gotten out that most of the original crew died or escaped to different ports, leaving Varossa without a ship or much of a crew to follow her.

[WalkingTheShade]

Too many people in the Godspit, too many possible threats. Lodan's eyes keep darting from side to side, but there's just too much to keep track of. Sleeplessness and the oppresive heat are caughting up with him, making is head pound.

He takes his time to finish his drink, in the hopes it'll sooth his headache. Then, he stands and walks resolutely towards the half orc's crew to negotiate that challenge. He's not gone to step when Lanteri and Llara make their apparition.

Lodan slowly, delibarately walks back and sits next to Catrina, lowering his voice, yet loud enough for the other Wyrmborn officers to hear. "Your call, Cap'. Either we make try to outbid them, but we show our hand doing so. If not, we can follow them at sea and negotiate," Lodan clears his throat, "Lanteri coming with us with surely better terms."

Lodan fails to keep his voice firm. It's pretty obvious he's not looking forward to the second option. He gives a side glance to Kana, biting his lower lip, looking for something. He doesn't know what, exactly.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Barroom knowledge (local) - (1d20+12)[25], about Lanteri.

Can Lodan also roll regarding Llara? Lodan wonders about the Last Song's rep, and if the party can take them: Barroom knowledge (local) - (1d20+12)[23].

[Farmerbink]

Catrina purses her lips and furrows her eyebrows, frantically trying to make sense of Lanteri's sudden and unexpected declaration. Her eyes flick to Lodan as he gives voice to almost her exact thoughts. Somehow, hearing it aloud helps to clarify the issue. "and take her by force, from another ship full of fighters? That's suicide. We'd be lucky to have crew enough left to sail..." She shakes her head, allowing it to droop a little. For another heartbeat, she stares into the floorboards, trying to put herself in Lanteri's shoes.

"A girl's forced to wonder," she blurts out, her voice deliberately raised to be heard by all. She takes a breath, to give everyone gathered a moment to focus on her. "what you find so distasteful about Llara's offer?!" The sideways accusation hangs heavy in the crowded bar, as Catrina raises an eyebrow.

"Grand entrance notwithstanding, you come looking for counter-offers without even tellin' us what we bid against? Hard to imagine you're really on the level, tryin' to play it like that. Makes me think you don't think as much of her as you'd like us to think..." For a moment, she spares a pitying glance for the Drow captain.

Without quite giving anyone else enough time to follow the train of thought and give voice to their own interjections, she speaks once more. "It's one thing to push for the highest bidder. It's another thing entirely to think you're gonna pull the wool over the eyes of every upstart captain in the shackles. We need a score, to be true-" she nods somberly, before raising her face to the woman they came here to impress.

"I don't think you're it." She punctuates the last with a jabbed finger, before casually returning her attention to the mug.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

In case it's not obvious, I'm deliberately trying to poison the other captains against Lanteri. Maybe we can drive down the demand a little, and buy our info a little cheaper for it.

Real talk, I haven't got a particularly good long-term plan hammered out. That much, at least, seems very Catrina-y. #haloface
(1d20+15)[24] bluff

[n0ble]

Kana struck up a match and cupped it in close to her cigar, then took a big inhale to get the nascent burning going. She let a few little plumes of smoke come from her nostrils and looked up at the dark-skinned elf woman. Mostve the elfs Kana'd see had been skinny and been-stalk like. Not pretty like the one stood next to their reason for coming to this bothersome port. Kana took another puff from her cigar and washed it down with a grumpy swig from her mug of water. Kana blinked, finished her water, then ashed her cigar in the empty mug. " 'Refill in another mug, please. And some fer me table." Kana gave another inhale and tried not to put any smoke behind the bar on her exhale as she let out another "Please." After waiting a moment, she returned to the others with waters for each of them and took up a seat next to Lodan. "-and a water for you too, Blue. Should be everyone." Kana stared down at her reflection in the mug and sloshed it around a bit to distort her features uglier.

She looked up, in time with a platter of muscles and crab legs getting carried past their table. "Oi, how much for the legs?" Upon confirmation of the platter, Kana relayed the order to relay the order to the rumkeep Kana had traded her booze to, along with a pot of whatever chowder was handy. She looked back to catch the First Mate in his sidelong glance. She did a double take to make sure he werent lookin' at someone prettier-like a dusky elf woman-then casually sagged back into her chair as she realized just how many had crowded the place. A look of discomfort fleeted across her face before settling into a smile. Kana let smoke come from one nostril in full volume, only for her other one to snuff it back up in a half-loop. "Need yerself a spyglass or something, First Mate." Kana smiled "'Letcha spy with that cheeky eye of yours a mite farther, eh?"

Kana absently sloshed the water in her mug, her thoughts occupied and darkening in time with the content of the other Captain's words. "...b!tch." She listened to Tanner had to say nodding along with the sense in it. Would be better to negotiate at sea anyways, where there was a better class of life about to lend aid. Long as it wasnt another f*ckin' dolphin taking to flailing about the deck. She leaned in close to Lodan's ear, withdrawing her cigar away to a grip between her middle and pointer finger. "Tanner. Could f*ck with the other ships. Tear the riggings, cut the rudder-ropes and such. Might not do for all of those want a stake in this but it could nix a few dolphin's that are fit to thrive from the pod, if you catch my wind."

Kana sat quietly and listened to what the other Captain was saying, her fury growing in time with how much the woman prattled and then growing again in time with what the Cap'n was saying. Watching Bagrid talk to the other Captain, Kana was reminded of a grey whale getting suffocated by a pod of orcas and, much to her discomfort, Kana knew that were she in the other Captain's stead she would have been made much awkward. Her anger would have dissipated in the face of such a shaming. Kana let a lazy trail of smoke leave her mouth and tried to relax back into her chair.

[3SecondCultist]

The main floor of the Godspit Inn is swimming in silence. The lack of noise ebbs and flows around the tables as conversations slowly cease, each man and woman turning in their chair or putting aside their entertainment to watch the very public show of Lanteri's bid for adventure. From the deafening depths come only a series of cracks and slurps, followed by a single low belch as Kana continues to consume her meal unabated. Mercifully, that particular horror is interrupted by Captain Catrina's words, which has just about every person who was previously staring at one young woman now look at another. Her put-down of the former first mate's score has more than a few sailors looking about, as though unsure of their purpose here. Within seconds, there are already some looking at the door.

"You're skeptical," Lanteri herself says in a pitch clearly meant to match Catrina's own; her steely eyes land on the captain of the Wyrmborn as her smile splits into a laugh. "That's sensible. I mean, if I heard about an offer like the one I'm making now, I'd be sure to question it! To that end, I am happy to share the promise I've made to the fine Captain Llara here. Mr. Hinson, if you would please bring me the letter?"

From one of the tables at the back steps a man. His wind-tousled hair is the colour of honey and complements both his pearly-white smile and sea-green eyes. He wears a deep navy longcoat over too-tight white trousers and thigh-high leather boots, and the glint of pale steel is visible from the elegant blade he carries at his waist. He delivers unto Lanteri's hands a piece of parchment, which she holds up for the entire bar to see - if not quite read at this distance. The parchment seems to have some sort of drawing at the bottom. "I hold in my hands a letter from my dearly departed husband, Warvil Lanteri. In it, he has shown me the way to uncover the route to Brightglass Island, the legendary resting place of the last hoard of Captain Cyrus Wolfe. This will be the biggest score in these islands this year, I can promise you that. All I'm asking for is a fair cut of the profits."

Llara herself seems to be maintaining a neutral expression throughout this whole affair, although her eyes stare down at your table with perhaps a bit more intensity than is strictly necessary. She also takes the time to spare a scornful glance at Lanteri during the latter's speech. And of course, behind her looms the shadow of the same hulking half-orc that accompanied her up to her negotiations in the first place.

Spoiler: Perception DC 25

Show

Although it's quite hard to make out at this distance, the picture at the bottom of the letter is that of some kind of curved spiral horn instrument that has been clearly been split up into three separate pieces, along with a series of names beside each piece. The first name - nearest the mouthpiece of the horn - is 'Stormeyes', the middle section is 'Harkalm', and the largest final piece is labelled 'Lanteri'.

[WalkingTheShade]

Earlier

Lodan rolls his eyes at Kana's spyglass remark, "as discrete as a grog headache."

Yet, when she mentions sabotaging the Last Song, he leans closer, scratching the side of his nose. "That boat's a fast one, maybe one of the fastests, but that may well help, yes." Yet, he's not entirely certain what she meant about dolphins, but something tells him these are not waters he wants to swim.

---

Now

Lodan puts a hand on Catrina's shoulder, as if to calm her down or hold her back. "Captain, I don't think..." he starts, but interrupts himself as soon as she turns to him, pretending to be cowed. "Sorry captain," he adds sheepishly, removing his hand.

He leans in and whispers into her ear: "No way Warvill gave her that willingly. They had a fight now he's swimming in Besmara's halls. Her last crew mutinied 'cause of that."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Aid Another on Catrina's show, Lodan acts as surprised as anyone else by his captain's outburst: Bluff - (1d20+11)[22]. Oh, success!

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh takes a long sip of water as she watches the scene unfold. She shifts a bit in her seat, getting feet on rungs in case she has to move quick. She keeps her eyes on Lanteri, but sweeps her focus across the rest of the room through small darting glances, trying to keep an eye out for anyone using the distraction as an excuse to start anything sneaky. Thysh may not be one to start things on her own, at least not in scenarios like this one, but she's been getting good at covering the team's back while the others do their thing.

[n0ble]

Kana took a grumpy, noisy slurp from her mug, then promptly stubbed her Cigar out into whatever Lodan was drinking with the most sh*t eating grin she could manage. She flagged down another server, "More legs once these are gone, maybe some bread for the chowder? Thankee. Oh-oh, and some mussels and a pitcher of water, if ya have any? Thanks. Uh. Again." Kana loosed a smile on the server, stained with more than a little bit of butter. She drained the last of her water from her mug wiped her mouth with a forearm and stifled another belch with her free hand. Kana snapped another one of the legs in half, but unevenly so that a hearty bit of crab meat dangled from both ends of the pieces. She offered the larger of the two pieces about to anyone who might want some. Then she dunked second one: first in some butter, then her chowder. It was good. Passable, even, but then again Kana reckoned Kroop's foodstuffs had gone and spoiled her palate. Maybe not. Place was certainly of comparable smell to the chef. Of that much Kana was certain.

Kana waited and patiently munched on the newly arrived food, quietly listening, letting anyone who wanted some take food from what she'd ordered. She aimed a squint in the direction of the piece of paper and, seeing nothing of note, turned her eyes towards prettier sights. Seemed a frightful strained peace was about the elf woman. Kana waved in the direction of the the elf and half orc with some bread that had been swabbed in a butter-chowder mix.Looked to squint upon the Lanteri-woman. She wiped her mouth of crums and leaned in close to Tanner. "I'd hear words from the elf and her man. Awful tolerant fer being the ones that stand to lose this opportunity." Her gaze returned to fairer sights. Without waiting for anyone, Kana turned her eye to Lanteri. Her eyes remained where they were, but she spoke to Lanteri. "Miiighty f*cky, that for all the say your givin' to others your "partner" aint said much. Pardon my aklo, but that silence rings like an ambergri-sour start to any sort of partnership agreed upon. Whose to say we arent gonna end up tasting the same bitterness, eh? Eh?" Belatedly, Kana realized she had stood up, crab leg in her good hand. She sighed back down into sitting and turned her squint as dubious as it could be. She relaxed with a contemplative munch on her crab leg. B!tch.

The stung look about her features slackened with a little bit of sympathy for the other other Captain tangled up in all this madness. Couldnt've been easy, confronting such a disappointment as the one now faced her. Kana spoke in-between mouthfuls of crab. "So why the goodwill, 'specially-" she nodded in the elf's direction, a bit of respect creeping into her voice, "-after ye got yerself a crew of allegedly afeared bada*ses already?"

[Farmerbink]

Catrina listens with an air of politeness, though her smile remains brittle and doesn't reach her eyes. She raises an eyebrow at Kana's outburst, though it mirrors (and elaborates on) one of her own thoughts. She favors the Drow captain with an openly piteous expression. "As I see it, Captain Llara, you're in quite the predicament. Not fun to be holding a fish as don't much wanna be caught."

She lets a lip rise in an obvious sneer as she turns her attention back to Lanteri. "An' likelier 'an not a rank fish. Did yer dear husband give you that map before or after you set 'im swimmin' in Besmara's halls? Any bilge-sucking sea bass with three fingers to pinch can write a letter or draw a map, but it takes a real scoundrel to pin the blame for failure on 'er deceased man, when she knows full well it was naught but a scam to steal a ship from the outset!"

She rises from her seat, letting the heel of a boot resound loudly against the planked floor. "Think I've heard more than I needed to," she spits, shaking her head. She turns towards the door to make an early departure.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

So I'm not quite clear where this falls on the bluff/intimidate spectrum. The intent remains to poison the other captains against her, though I've now largely abandoned trying to woo her with anything but violence in the aftermath. Perhaps Lodan could pull it off, but Catrina won't bother to try.

(1d20)[12]
it's +15 bluff, +9 intimidate.

[Starbin]

Fueryon Blackscale - Sea Dog

Fury watched events play out for a moment ... then the words came. First in a trickle, then into a waterfall, washing over the entire room. In the silence that followed the verbal deluge, the beast turned to take the offered crab with his teeth, licking the juice off of Kana’s hands. He then turned his unblinking gaze back to the others in the room - shifting from his companions to from the other captain, the woman with the parchment, and the half orc.

Fury was not much of a talker; he preferred action. But he was more observant than most gave him credit for. For example, he could make out things on the paper that wench was waving about that most probably could not. However, when his captain walked out, he waited for the others to follow before rising slowly, letting his chair creak under the weight of his movement, then staring down the group standing around their mark. His tongue darted out as he showed his teeth for the briefest of flashes... then turned to walk out.

---

Giving a ‘passive’ Intimidat (taking 10) for 27

Spoiler: Status

Show

HPs: 51 AC: 17 CMB/D: +10/21
F +6 R +3 W +2 Initiative +2
Perception +10; Climb +12; Swim +13; Intimidate +17; Rage 14 rounds
Equipment: +1 longspear (+11, 1d8+7)
Effects: none

[WalkingTheShade]

Seeing how things are turning out, Lodan turns to Kana. That's only when he notices the cigar butt in his fortunately mostly empty mug. He humorlessly returns her grin: "Cigar smoking ill suits a Lady, you know what these blunt look like when you put them to your mouth? Lucky you, got a task for you so you can make it up to me right now."

He then lowers his voice, bending towards Blue who, fortunately for Lodan's back, is nearly standing on her stool. "Blue, remember that splinter from Peggworthy's ship? You think you can pull that boat tracing thing again?" He waits for Blue's answer and then turns back to Kana. "Kana, follow the captain out, guard her back, then go find the Last Song, get a piece of it. Get ready for your other thing, about lines and stuff, but do nothing until we're certain we need to."

"Blue, Fury, I need both of you with me here, buying our helmswoman some time."