Axe's Skull and Shackles

[aReallyGreatAxe]

You linger on the edge of consciousness for what seems like hours, aware only of a persistent ache in the front of your skull and the fact that the room keeps bobbing and swaying as if you’re still drunk. The sickly sweet taste of cheap wine and oily nutmeg lingers in your mouth, which also feels like you’ve been eating cotton. A rhythmic creaking noise only exacerbates the pounding in your head.

You remember last night- the heady joys of excess, the crowded bar packed with every type of person under the sun. You remember the food, thick meaty strips of beef lathered in a dark sauce, spiced rum that danced on your tongue like fireworks.

You remember staggering back to your room, altogether too drunk for the amount of alcohol you consumed. You remember pawing at the doorknob, finally convincing it to let you in to the comfort of a warm bed to sleep off…. Whatever you’re sleeping off. You remember….. No, that’s all you remember. The surface you’re laying on now, however, is distinctly not a comfortable inn bed. It’s hard and cold, and your joints are sore.

Spoiler: Knowledge (nature) DC 10

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This aftertaste of oily nutmeg- isn’t that a clear sign of poisoning by Oil of Taggit, a powerful sedative? Of course, the rich food or spiced rum could have easily hid the flavor- is this what happened?

Then the present returns in the form of the hammering of rapid footsteps, that sound like someone driving a pick straight into the recesses of your brain.

There’s a harsh laugh

And then everything

Goes

Cold

Numbingly cold and wet and thoroughly startling, your eyes flash open with an involuntary gasp that lets a foul, salty taste in to mingle with the hangover coating your tongue. Consciousness is fully in your grasp now, although perhaps you wish it wasn’t- you’re met with ringing laughs from a group of rough looking figures holding buckets.

Stepping in front of them is a sneering man with a braided beard. His body is tall and thin, and even his long coat and heavy boots fail to give any impression of strength or bulk. An expression that might be mistaken for pain but which is clearly an attempt at a smile bruises his face, revealing a motley lot of gold and rotten teeth.

Spoiler: Intelligence check, DC 10

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You’ve seen this man before. In fact, you saw him near your table last night- he bumped into you by accident. Or by “accident”, as the case may be.

““Still abed with the sun over the yardarm?” he growls, his voice scratchy like he’s spent the past few years gargling nails. “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 crowd behind him reach as one for their weapons, daring you to try anything fancy. Among them, you notice, is a vast man with a shiny bald head, a reedy half orc, a sour-faced harlot with massive ears, and a blonde woman who looks ready to gut you with her smile alone.

Spoiler: Welcome

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Welcome to a world that lingers on the edge of destruction, where the natural forces are so unhinged that permanent storms thrash the waves.

Welcome to a country that’s so disjointed it’s never earned a name, and pirates haunt its waters like ghosts hungry for gold.

Welcome to a ship infested with the scum of the sea that wriggle through its belly and rigging like maggots.

Welcome to Skull and Shackles.

[SirCatBeard]

Well, that did not go as planned. There weren't even any good rumors at that filthy tavern and now this. Should have guessed such a place wouldn't bother with nutmeg in the drinks.

Elim spits the remaining water onto the deck and smiles a feline grin at the speaker, slipping into their mannerisms. " 'Scuse me, sir, hard to see the sun from here. But I'm afraid ye be makin' a mistake 'ere, this be not me ship so unless ye want some halibut or net-mending, which I would be happy to assist with, I canno' say what duties I have here, and me own captain will be wantin' me back 'fore too long so what say ye drop me off back at town and I get you a great deal on some Mackerel."

[aReallyGreatAxe]

The speaker’s lip curls, clearly enjoying his role. “The Wormwood don’t make no mistakes, lad. Yer ours now, fair and square.” He shakes his head, the many small braids in his beard swaying with the motion. “And we be hunting fish a mite more dangerous than a Mackerel- a whole ship full of ‘em, in fact. Now, hop to, or you’ll get the first taste of me lash.” He pulls the whip from his belt and holds it expectantly. The whip seems to fit comfortably into his hand, a sign of either much practice or much use, and from the sweat and bloodstains on the well-worn handle, you presume it to be the latter.

[Table Flipper]

"Bloody..."

Sarra's voice trails off as she stands up, head still pounding from the night before.

"Coulda just asked, y'know. Save us both some trouble." She shakes her head. "Which way's topside?"

[Chimaera]

In just what kind of trouble did you yourself in, Shu?

The pain, the hangover and the clear sign of poisoning, made the slender sailor stand up.l with difficulty. He tried his best to not show signs of pain though.

"You're certainly not a ladies' man. Are you?", Godfrey asks but shivers after speaking it, fearing he earned a whip, "Can we know what are these sailor fishes? Are they even fishes? Or sailors?".

He stops saying and blabber some nonsense, clearly a bit confused. "And can I get some water? Feel there was a party in my mouth".

[CoffeeIncluded]

A young man with white hair, pale lavender eyes, and skin so pale as to be translucent groans as he staggers to his feet. He quickly runs through his mental checklist: ten fingers, ten toes...where’s his wallet? Why is he on a hard surface? Who’s yelling at him?

Spoiler: Rolls

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Knowledge nature: <roll>D20+1</roll>
Intelligence: <roll>d20+1</roll>

[CoffeeIncluded]

Spoiler: Rolls

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Sorry, it’s been a while

Knowledge nature: (d20+1)[14]
Intelligence: (d20+1)[6]

Oily nutmeg...Rage flashes through Dimitri and, though he knows it’s a mistake he springs to his feet. Or rather, he would if, ”You bastard, did you just drug me?! What kind of twisted joke is this?!”

[aReallyGreatAxe]

The man's false smile fades as Godfrey asks his questions. He unloops the whip slowly, deliberately. "You ask too many questions, lad. Best learn-" but before he can finish his thought, the white haired man leaps to his feet and throws an accusation.

The whip lashes out, quicker than the sound can catch up to it. It cracks across Dmitri's side, tearing both his clothes and the skin beneath.

Spoiler: Attacking Dmitri

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Readied action to whip the first to step out of line.
Attack: (1d20+6)[12]
Damage: (1d3+2)[4] Nonlethal

"There'll be no more o' that. Do as yer told." His scratchy voice has gone cold and dangerous as a glacier. "Up on deck," he orders flatly, gesturing behind him at a set of stairs against which a hulking man sleeps peacefully. Or, it would be peaceful, if he weren't bound by his hands to the mast.

The others behind draw their weapons, cutlasses glinting in the faint light from above.

Spoiler: Coffee Included

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Do you want to roll initiative?

[Chimaera]

"Got it: no questions, no whip. Coming up", Godfrey shows the man his hands and move slowly towards the ladder. He almost felt sorry for the white haired one, but was thankful it wasnt on his own skin.

"See? Doing as told", he looks the man in the face (studying briefly his facial features and posture) and leaves the whip immediate area. He walks slow enough not to provoke the guards but not so fast, so that he can see the scene unfold. Not that he cared about the guy that might earn blades this time, just curiosity and maybe a window.

Patience, Shu.. On his walk he counts the guards amd their weapons and tries to glance around and try to locate anything that can pass as either a tool or weapon that he can get his hands on given opportunity. Shu loved opportunities.

Spoiler: Perception

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Godfrey will try to pinpoint anything on his path to the ladders that he can get his hands on if presented with a distraction. He would like to count the number of slaves and thugs.

He will do his best not to seem aggresive and look more meek and compliant.

Bluff (1d20+8)[13]
Perception (1d20+6)[24]

[aReallyGreatAxe]

Godfrey notices there are more than a few things around the hold, mostly in the form of barrels and a disassembled catapult. There are also cages with sad, thin looking pigs at the other end. Other than that, there's the sleeping man, and a crowd of increasingly annoyed pirates with weapons drawn. Said crowd is seven in number.

As Godfrey's practiced eye slides over the hold, taking note of all possibilities, the whip cracks near Godfrey's hand, a near miss- but clearly an intentional one.
"Don't. Try. It." The man hisses, his eyes roaming over Godfrey, clearly measuring him up.

"Master Scourge," Asks a very tall, thin woman, shifting her grip on the cutlass uncomfortably. "Permission to attack?"

An unhealthily yellow half-orc exchanges glances with the blonde woman and makes swift, precise motions with his fingers, almost as if casting a spell. She rolls her eyes and speaks in a playful cadence. "Jape says to stick with the plan, Shiv."

"Shut yer traps," Master Scourge snaps, his gold teeth flashing. "Or ye can have a lash as well."

Spoiler: Actions

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Master Scourge is readying an action to whip if Godfrey tries anything.

Spoiler: The speakers

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Because I'm a visual person, and it helped me to remember who is who.

[PolarBugbear]

...it was a delightful dream, the earthy smell of the riverbank after a flood, the singing of the women as they beat the washing against the stones, the laughter of the children, the droplets of water that glistened in the evening sun, the melodic strains of a mother's voice, calling her child in for supper, and the cold...
...the cold.
...and the wet. But not the nice warm wetness of the river back home, this was colder... in more ways than one.
It took everything Yamayim had not to vomit as they came back into their body, wherever it was. This swaying feeling should have been familiar, even natural, but something was... wrong.
Their eyes flew open to a blurred collection of faces, grinning balefully down at them.
"This is... unfortunate.", Yamayim said under their breath.
They moved slowly, deliberately, careful not to break eye contact with the one with the... were those false teeth? As their eyes fell on the others, and the blades they carried, they walked backwards, trying to put as much distance between themselves and these...people... as possible.

Spoiler: Roll Knowledge (nature)

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[roll0] Knowledge Nature

[Chimaera]

"Try... what?", he plays dumb and looks at the whip master waiting for an order to resume walking. Looking at Shiv's blade he gulps, "Easy, pretty face. Stick to the plan, okay?".

Godfrey then resume going wherever they wanted they to go.

[aReallyGreatAxe]

Apparently satisfied that there would be no more outbursts, Master Scourge jerks his thumb quickly at the stairs. "Aretta, you lead 'em." A redheaded, large-eared woman wearing the ruins of once-provocative clothing hops to, beckoning you all.

You’re led up the set of stairs past a small nest of hammocks, and out the door into sunlight so bright that you can’t even escape from the piercing glow by closing your eyes. Once your eyes adjust to the colors that are somehow both washed out and too bright, your predicament becomes all too apparent.
This is the deck of a sizable ship, and while Yamayim’s weakened vision fails to yield any more information than that, the rest of you can see the azure stretch of ocean all around you, with land a faint ochre haze many miles away. And atop the mast flies a flag- black, with the outline of a whale carcass in stark white in the center,above crossed pistols. A pirate flag, if you’ve ever seen one.

Figures cluster around the base of the ship’s mainmast, looking up at a higher deck on the stern, where two figures stand. Thankfully, they stand right before that undefined line where Yamayim’s vision fades to nothing. One of them is a broad, muscular man with a shaven head, a long beard bound with gold rings, and an eye patch. Two mother of pearl pistols dangle from his belt, and he caresses the stock of one lightly as he waits. The way in which the crew stares intently at him would seem to indicate that this is someone very, very important.
The other is a younger, balding man with a long black ponytail on the back of his head, wearing a long coat and carrying a cat-o’-nine-tails at his belt. Everything about this man seems in imitation of the other, from the long coat and oversize boots to the pistols hanging at his side- and even from a distance, some of you find these firearms very familiar.

Once the last of you stops moving, the bearded man smiles, and you immediately wish he hadn’t. It’s not a welcoming smile, it’s the grin of a barracuda that’s found its next prey. “Glad you could join us at last! Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for…” He trails off, snorts a laugh and then continues “ ‘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 have only 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.”

He strokes his beard in imitation of a paternal gesture. “Oh, and one more thing. Even with you new recruits, we’re still short-handed, and I aim to keep what crew I have. There’ll be a keelhaulin’ for anyone caught killin’ anyone. Mr. Plugg!” He barks this last to the younger man, who turns to him with a gritting of teeth. “If you’d be so kind as to make pirates out of these landlubbers, it’ll save me having to put them in the sweatbox for a year and a day before I make pies out of ’em.” At the end of his speech, the captain walks away, the audience clearly dismissed, leaving behind the man with the cat-o’-nine-tails. The assorted pirates quickly disperse back to their intended tasks.

Mr. Plugg looks down at you all and smiles unpleasantly, in a clear attempt to ape the captain’s fiendish grin. He descends from the sterncastle slowly and deliberately, letting his hand trail along the rail, clearly enjoying the feel of all eyes on him.
“Now,” He says, in a smooth and oily voice. “Who here can cook?”

Spoiler: Speakers

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[Table Flipper]

Charming lot, this. No wonder they didn't try asking first.

Sarra sizes up her situation and decides that, under past and current circumstances, work is work, though mayhaps that could change next time the ship came to port. For now though...

"I've made due before." She says after no one else answers Plugg's question for a bit. "If edible's what yer looking fer."

Spoiler: OoC

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Survival +6 and backstory means Sarra's probably had to prepare her own food at some point.

[aReallyGreatAxe]

"Congratulations," Mr. Plugg says dryly. "You're cook's mate. Jack!” Mr. Plugg snaps, calling out one of the many pirates that scurry along the deck. “Bring ‘er to Fishguts.”

The pirate who snaps to the task is little more than a boy, short black curls held down by a vividly red bandana against his deep brown face. In one ear glints a large gold earring. As he leads Sarra back down into the darkness of the hold, Jack speaks in a voice that still occasionally cracks “You’ll be alright, you know? Ol’ Fishguts isn’t half as scary as he sounds, though he is a bit… addled? That’s why he needs a cook’s mate.” He turns to give Sarra the first genuine smile she's seen since she came on this vessel.

“Now.” Mr Plugg says, turning to the rest of you. “To the crow’s nest. Let me see how you climb.” He draws the pistol that once was Elim’s from his belt and aims it to the sky, obviously unsure of the right way to hold the thing. “Three…. Two… One…”

BANG!

The gunshot rings out over the ship, causing heads to whip around. A bedraggled one-eyed gnome even drops the rope she was tying with a heavy thump.

Spoiler: Everyone

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Please make me three climb checks, if you wish to try and climb. If you wish to try and...not climb, please make me the applicable social skill check (probably bluff).

Spoiler: Cast

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[Table Flipper]

Sarra follows along with Jack, quietly listening as he speaks. "Right. You seem... relaxed. You been on this ship long? Any major rules I should know about?"

[Chimaera]

Watching Mr. Plugg give the order to climb the mast, Godfrey give ita good old try, even though he was far from the b est climber in the world.

Spoiler: Climb

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First try (1d20-1)[6]
Second try (1d20-1)[15]
Third is the charm try (1d20-1)[19]

After giving it a try he walks away from, the mast to give space for thye rest to try. He comes close to ask the one-eyed gnome to lend him the rope, but thought it would be best if he stop bringing much attention to him.

[SirCatBeard]

Elim's tail twitches almost imperceptibly at the Plugg's incompetance with the weapon. Overdramatic idiot, will have to deal with him, though this is not exactly an advantageous time for such a course, but can lay some groundwork at least. Sauntering up with a piratical swagger, grasping the rigging and digging claws into the wood to scale the mast.

Spoiler: Rolls

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Climb 1: (1d20+7)[14]+13, so 27
Climb 2: (1d20+7)[23]
Climb 3: (1d20+7)[15]+1, so 16

Going to add a d6 to 1 and 3 using the Deed for that, see OOC for rolls.

[aReallyGreatAxe]

Sarra follows along with Jack, quietly listening as he speaks. "Right. You seem... relaxed. You been on this ship long? Any major rules I should know about?"

Jack nods. "I've been here about a month. Most of the crew have, though you’ll find some old hands- like the officers, and Narwhal, for one. He’s the dwarf with the, uh…” His voice drops for the next words, “noticeable nose.”

You seem to remember a dwarf matching this description being in the initial crowd that backed up Master Scourge- if by “noticeable nose”, Jack means “Massive and pockmarked nasal protuberance”

“The rules are pretty much what you’d expect. Be on time, do good work, listen to Mr. Plugg. Oh- and don’t steal from the quartermaster.” He bites his lip, a crack appearing in his jovial demeanor. “Had a friend do that. It’s… not going to end well.”

He leads you to a wooden door that appears to have settled in its frame. "Galley's through here. Good luck?"

Spoiler: Cast

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[CoffeeIncluded]

Dimitri staggered back, unable to restrain a hell of pain from the sharp slice across his face, and the warm sting of blood blooming down his cheek. He says nothing, though his eyes burn with hatred.

”Bide your time Dimitri. They’ll pay. Later. When you can.” Keelhauling was...he’d seen it before, and never wanted to again.

For now though, play along. The others were kidnapped alongside him. ****, he was kidnapped! How did he let his guard down like that?!

Dimitri only woke from his dissociation when ordered to climb the mast. How could he hold a gun so poorly? Still, him, climbing? “My eyesight isn’t the best at distances,” he said. “I’d be much more useful learning something else.”

Spoiler: Bluff?

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(d20+7)[22]

[Table Flipper]

Jack nods. "I've been here about a month. Most of the crew have, though you’ll find some old hands- like the officers, and Narwhal, for one. He’s the dwarf with the, uh…” His voice drops for the next words, “noticeable nose.”

You seem to remember a dwarf matching this description being in the initial crowd that backed up Master Scourge- if by “noticeable nose”, Jack means “Massive and pockmarked nasal protuberance”

“The rules are pretty much what you’d expect. Be on time, do good work, listen to Mr. Plugg. Oh- and don’t steal from the quartermaster.” He bites his lip, a crack appearing in his jovial demeanor. “Had a friend do that. It’s… not going to end well.”

He leads you to a wooden door that appears to have settled in its frame. "Galley's through here. Good luck?"

Spoiler: Cast

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"Thanks." Sarra gives a slight smile despite herself. It was a kind of relief to talk to someone who didn't seem so... aggressively egotistical. "Name's Sarra, by the way, if names even matter on this ship."

She heads on through the door.

[aReallyGreatAxe]

"Thanks." Sarra gives a slight smile despite herself. It was a kind of relief to talk to someone who didn't seem so... aggressively egotistical. "Name's Sarra, by the way, if names even matter on this ship."

She heads on through the door.

"Names always matter," says Jack. "That's another rule, by the way. Not an official one, but you'll be best off if you remember people's names."

The galley door is opened with a bit of a shove of the swollen wood, revealing a scene of utter chaos, chickens, and altogether too many knives. It seems like no-one has given more of a cursory cleaning to this place in months, possibly years, and the detritus of many meals sits abandoned next to a cutting board, letting out an overwhelming smell of rotting fish and stale rum.

You almost don't notice the kitchen's occupant, for the mess. He's slumped in a corner, like so much more garbage, and takes another swig from a mostly empty bottle as he notices you. "So you're the new mate," he slurs, then stirs from his perch, along with a black rooster that remains perched on his shoulder. "You're prob'ly wondering what all that means. Mostly, means you'll help me prepare meals, plus do some fishin'. Whatever it takes to keep the Wormwood running, really. Today you'll be fishin'." He reaches behind him and pulls a rod from the chaos.

He leans in close as he presses the rod into your hand, rum-laden breath puffing in your face. “It’s poison, this ship, but don’t let anyone hear you say it aloud. The hull listens, see, and the cap’n hears it all. Poison the Wormwood is, though, rotten to the core."

His voice drops even further, and he's barely more than whispering companionably as he continues. "You’ll not meet a more nasty, sour piece of work than Cap’n Harrigan in all your days at sea, and his crew’s the same, ’specially the first mate, Mr. Plugg. Vicious little 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 ’arm ’em.” He smiles sadly, and takes another sip to finish off the warning tirade.

[Table Flipper]

"Names always matter," says Jack. "That's another rule, by the way. Not an official one, but you'll be best off if you remember people's names."

The galley door is opened with a bit of a shove of the swollen wood, revealing a scene of utter chaos, chickens, and altogether too many knives. It seems like no-one has given more of a cursory cleaning to this place in months, possibly years, and the detritus of many meals sits abandoned next to a cutting board, letting out an overwhelming smell of rotting fish and stale rum.

You almost don't notice the kitchen's occupant, for the mess. He's slumped in a corner, like so much more garbage, and takes another swig from a mostly empty bottle as he notices you. "So you're the new mate," he slurs, then stirs from his perch, along with a black rooster that remains perched on his shoulder. "You're prob'ly wondering what all that means. Mostly, means you'll help me prepare meals, plus do some fishin'. Whatever it takes to keep the Wormwood running, really. Today you'll be fishin'." He reaches behind him and pulls a rod from the chaos.

He leans in close as he presses the rod into your hand, rum-laden breath puffing in your face. “It’s poison, this ship, but don’t let anyone hear you say it aloud. The hull listens, see, and the cap’n hears it all. Poison the Wormwood is, though, rotten to the core."

His voice drops even further, and he's barely more than whispering companionably as he continues. "You’ll not meet a more nasty, sour piece of work than Cap’n Harrigan in all your days at sea, and his crew’s the same, ’specially the first mate, Mr. Plugg. Vicious little 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 ’arm ’em.” He smiles sadly, and takes another sip to finish off the warning tirade.

Sarra nods along as the man talks, taking a moment to contemplate where her life's choices (or lack thereof, really) have lead her so far. "I see. So yer the one they call Fishguts, no? Is that how ya like to be called? 'Sir' from me I s'pose, if yer my direct now. My name's Sarra." Sarra inspects the fishing rod in her hand as she speaks. "Fishin', huh? You got a favorite fishin' spot on the ship?"

[PolarBugbear]

Watching the others head toward the mast, Yamayim's stomach lurches. "Getting one's sea legs", a phrase often heard in reference to the, er...less-than-gifted humans... who attempted to best even the youngest members of the village, but more often than not made an amusing spectacle of themselves, intruded on their thoughts. Yamayim wiped the sweat from their upper lip as they looked toward the upper deck with dread.

Spoiler: Here goes nothing

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[roll0]

[aReallyGreatAxe]

Dmitri

Mr. Plugg eyes you up and down disdainfully. “Weak eyes? Best hope you don’t have a weak back. It’ll be the bilges for you today. Badger!” he snaps to a nearby pirate. “Show ‘im to the bilges. Maybe Magpie’d like some company.”

The sailor indicated is an exhausted looking older woman, half-elven at least judging by the ears. Her graying black hair is shaved into stripes, with the remainder gathered up into a tight ponytail.

The bilges prove to be a cramped room in the very bowels of the ship, where the low ceiling is mere feet above the unpleasant, stinking surface of the water. Or, what could be politely termed as water, for this contains many worse substances. The only thing worse than the smell would be the abnormally large spiders you occasionally sight scuttling across the ceiling.

You aren’t alone down here, and that’s not just because of your new arachnid friends. There’s also several sets of manacles screwed into the wood, in one of which a morose man slumps. He turns his face away as you enter, but the tear tracks in the grime on his cheeks are still plain as day.

Badger sloshes into the knee-deep water, and over to a pump. “We take turns,” she says simply, rolling up her sleeves. “You gamble any?” She asks in the brief period before exertion makes conversation uncomfortable.

Spoiler: CoffeeIncluded

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Your job for the day is to man the bilges. How exciting.
Man the Bilges: Vile and sweaty work cleaning out the bilges (area A11), requiring a DC 12 Strength check. The PC must also make a DC 10 Constitution check to avoid being fatigued at the end of the shift.

This, of course, restricts whom you can choose to socialize with to Badger and Jakes Magpie.

Yamayim, Elim, and Godfrey

The crow’s nest is pretty far up, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. By hand or by claw, you lift yourself into the rigging and get to business. Elim pulls ahead immediately, but the other two give chase with everything they have. This isn’t so hard, you think- and it’s then that Yamayim’s vision fails them, and leaves them grasping at a handhold that doesn’t exist. Down, down they fall to land on the deck with a sickening
CRACK.

Consciousness, however, does not desert poor Yamayim, although perhaps they wish it had, for it would free them from the blinding pain in their leg. Mr. Plugg tsks, rolling his eyes, and calls out another. “Sandara. Fix this sorry excuse for a sailor up enough to work.”
A woman in a tricorne hat puts down the rope she’s tying in a hurry and comes over, her hands fluttering about over Yamayim like “Now, try to not move-”

“Hurry up,” Mr. Plugg interrupts in a bored sounding tone. Sandara glowers at him and swears into the ruffed neckline of her shirt. But along with the rude language flows a soothing energy. While it doesn’t take away the pain, it surely lessens, and Yamayim’s leg feels, if not whole, then at least not like it will snap off at the slightest provocation.

“You’ll be mending things with Sandara,” Mr. Plugg declares even as the healing is still setting in and he looks up at the crow’s nest. “Well, it seems we have a winner.”

Spoiler: PolarBugbear

Show

Yamayim, number one, takes nine damage from their fall.
Then they are healed (1d8+1)[2] by Sandara.


Their job is to repair things.
Repairs: Things constantly tear or break aboard the ship and need repairs, whether sewing sails or splicing rope all day, requiring a DC 10 Profession (sailor) or Dexterity check.

Your options for chit-chat are anyone on deck, namely these faces:
Aretta
Cog Fipps
Giffer Jack
Jaundiced Jape
Rosie Sandara
Shivikah Tilly

Elim, you stand tall and proud at the top of the crow’s nest, sun on your face and the wind in your fur, it’s perhaps the most pleasant place you’ve been in a while. Godfrey still remains halfway up when Mr. Plugg calls to “GET BACK DOWN HERE” and impatiently taps his foot as you descend.

Godfrey’s boot barely touches the deck before Mr. Plugg dubs him with his job. “Runner. You’re a runner today.” The sailor that’s already been pulled aside for you is Shiv, the tall woman who was so eager to gut you upon awakening.

She eyes Godfrey up and down. “You’ll do. Just follow orders, do as we say. Be fast. And don’t call me ‘pretty face’.”

Spoiler: Chimaera

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Runner: Passing messages to the crew and officers of the Wormwood in all parts of the ship except officers’ cabins (areas A4 and A5), requiring a DC 10 Acrobatics check and DC 10 Constitution check. Failing the Constitution check results in the PC being fatigued at the end of the shift. A PC with the Run feat automatically succeeds at this task.

This task allows you freedom from one end of the ship to the other, and gives you access to the following NPCs:

Spoiler: Riggers

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Barefoot Samms Concobhar
Maheem Narwhal
Ratline Slippery Syl

Spoiler: Swabs

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Aretta Badger
Cog Fipps
Giffer Jack
Jakes Magpie Jaundiced Jape
Rosie Sandara
Shivikah Tilly

Spoiler: Officers

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Captain Harrigan Cut-Throat Grok
Fishguts Krine
Master Scourge Mr. Plugg
Patch Peppery
Stitchman Caulky

Finally, Mr. Plugg waits for Elim at the base of the mast, stroking the haft of his pistol thoughtfully. Then he stalks off to do… whatever it is he does with himself aboard a ship. Remaining behind him is a small gnome who, at first glance, is the piratiest thing you’ve ever seen. On second glance, he appears like a small child playing dress up. He bears a foppish purple hat that throws shade on his sweatstained ruffled shirt, and a dandyish cane in one hand. His mustaches are well oiled and curl playfully up towards his glistening eye patch, for of course he has an eye patch. “Conchobhar Turlach Shortstone,” he introduces himself as he reaches up to shake your furred hand. “I’m here to show you the ropes. See, there’s one over there-” He points to a coil of rope and laughs uproariously at his own poor joke. When the laughter dies down he wipes at the corner of his eye. “We’re on Mainsail duty today. Don’t worry, it’s knot a bad job. Get it- Knot?” He chuckles again.

Spoiler: SirCatbeard

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Elim’s job for the day is Mainsail duty.
Mainsail Duties: Tough work raising and lowering the mainsail, requiring a DC 10 Profession (sailor) or Strength check. The PC must also make a DC 10 Constitution check to avoid being fatigued at the end of the shift.

He has access to any and all Riggers today:

Sarra

“I fish off the side of ‘er, generally.” the chef says helpfully.
The man picks at his ear thoughtfully. “Been a while since anyone called me Sir. Fishguts is fine, that’s what everyone calls me. That’s all I am now. Fishguts…” He trails off into silence and the bottom of a rum bottle.

Up on deck, you try to seek out a friendly face, and catch sight of a bedraggled gnome that’s having a little trouble with the rope she’s attempting to tie. “Oh, you’re the new lass, ain’t ya?” She asks when she notices you. “Ain’t you the lucky one. To wake up aboard the mighty Wormwood, now tha’s a treat. They get ya in the middle o’ the night? Hit ya over the head? Drugged ya? Or are ya like me-” She spits off the side of the ship “And they just scooped ya up like a sack o’ potatoes, and refused to put ya back down?” She laughs a little at her past predicament, and turns her single eye back to the knot she’s still working on. “First day’s a mite rough, ain’t it?”

Spoiler: Table Flipper

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Since you asked for the friendliest, I gave you Giffer. :)

[PolarBugbear]

Yamayim

The crow’s nest is pretty far up, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. By hand or by claw, you lift yourself into the rigging and get to business. Elim pulls ahead immediately, but the other two give chase with everything they have. This isn’t so hard, you think- and it’s then that Yamayim’s vision fails them, and leaves them grasping at a handhold that doesn’t exist. Down, down they fall to land on the deck with a sickening
CRACK.

Consciousness, however, does not desert poor Yamayim, although perhaps they wish it had, for it would free them from the blinding pain in their leg. Mr. Plugg tsks, rolling his eyes, and calls out another. “Sandara. Fix this sorry excuse for a sailor up enough to work.”
A woman in a tricorne hat puts down the rope she’s tying in a hurry and comes over, her hands fluttering about over Yamayim like “Now, try to not move-”

“Hurry up,” Mr. Plugg interrupts in a bored sounding tone. Sandara glowers at him and swears into the ruffed neckline of her shirt. But along with the rude language flows a soothing energy. While it doesn’t take away the pain, it surely lessens, and Yamayim’s leg feels, if not whole, then at least not like it will snap off at the slightest provocation.

“You’ll be mending things with Sandara,” Mr. Plugg declares even as the healing is still setting in and he looks up at the crow’s nest. “Well, it seems we have a winner.”

Spoiler: PolarBugbear

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Yamayim, number one, takes nine damage from their fall.
Then they are healed (1d20+4)[19] by Sandara.


Their job is to repair things.
Repairs: Things constantly tear or break aboard the ship and need repairs, whether sewing sails or splicing rope all day, requiring a DC 10 Profession (sailor) or Dexterity check.

Yamayim strains through the tears in their eyes to look up at Sandara, managing a weak "thank you" before biting down hard on their bottom lip to avoid screaming. Once they were able to speak without grimacing, they squeaked out suddenly, "My name is Yayamim. You are Sandara. Did they do this to you, too?" They struggled to their feet, looking expectantly at Sandara and moving to follow her.

Spoiler: Rolling for reparing things

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(1d20+4)[19]

[Table Flipper]

"Uh... drugged, I think. The others seemed to think." Sarra sets aside her fishing equipment for a moment to assist with the knot, barring any objection from the gnome. "Heh. 'Mite rough' is one way to describe it, though you certainly seem to have adjusted alright. Name's Sarra, and you are?"

[Chimaera]

When Yamamim falls down and crash on the deck, Godfrey give climbing an extra effort, but is glad to have given another task: he was pretty sure it was more luck than skill taht prevented him from falling as well in the first place, but if he was given a whole day wroking from that height... He would probble split his skull in the deck. Specially with his current lucky streak: first the whole Godfrey's fiasco and then joining a pirate ship.

He waits for Mr. Plugg to be gone and for them to be on their way to whatever task she had for him.

"So today I'm a runner", he saysafter instructed, "Alright. Since pretty face is banned and I'm sure darling or honey are as well... how should I call you?", he asks the pirate woman and slap his head, "Oh, how rude of me! After the warm hospitality and threat of stabbing I've almost forgot my manners, my name is Godfrey". He uses the joke to try to get a feeling on this pirate woman, seeing how she react to jokes.

"And does one have to change the job every day?"., he asks her and get ready to start running around the ship delivering messages and getting used to the ship layout and the many faces.

[aReallyGreatAxe]

Yamayim strains through the tears in their eyes to look up at Sandara, managing a weak "thank you" before biting down hard on their bottom lip to avoid screaming. Once they were able to speak without grimacing, they squeaked out suddenly, "My name is Yayamim. You are Sandara. Did they do this to you, too?" They struggled to their feet, looking expectantly at Sandara and moving to follow her.

Spoiler: Rolling for reparing things

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[roll0]

"Well, hello Yamayim." Sandara takes Yamayim by the arm and leads them to one side of the vessel. "Yes, they did 'this' to me. Someone fell that time around too. He died on the spot." She nods,businesslike. "I wasn't a good enough healer that time. I tried." She shrugs. " But this time, the Lady favored you. Better a leg than a neck." Sandara ventures a smile. "Management around here's a bit... heavy handed for my taste. What do you say we try to stick together, two heads better than one and all that."

"Uh... drugged, I think. The others seemed to think." Sarra sets aside her fishing equipment for a moment to assist with the knot, barring any objection from the gnome. "Heh. 'Mite rough' is one way to describe it, though you certainly seem to have adjusted alright. Name's Sarra, and you are?"

"I'm Giffer," claims the gnome. "Say, you're a fast hand at those knots. Ain't it a shame they put ya to fishin'." She accepts the assistance gratefully, "I've 'adjusted alright', if ya want to say that. Mostly thanks to Conchobhar- he's a funny one. And so handsome," the last is said in an offhand voice. "Don't ya think? He's the one with the purple hat." Giffer jerks her head up at a foppish gnome in the rigging who looks like nothing so much as someone pretending to be a pirate. "He don't pay me no mind though."

When Yamamim falls down and crash on the deck, Godfrey give climbing an extra effort, but is glad to have given another task: he was pretty sure it was more luck than skill taht prevented him from falling as well in the first place, but if he was given a whole day wroking from that height... He would probble split his skull in the deck. Specially with his current lucky streak: first the whole Godfrey's fiasco and then joining a pirate ship.

He waits for Mr. Plugg to be gone and for them to be on their way to whatever task she had for him.

"So today I'm a runner", he saysafter instructed, "Alright. Since pretty face is banned and I'm sure darling or honey are as well... how should I call you?", he asks the pirate woman and slap his head, "Oh, how rude of me! After the warm hospitality and threat of stabbing I've almost forgot my manners, my name is Godfrey". He uses the joke to try to get a feeling on this pirate woman, seeing how she react to jokes.

"And does one have to change the job every day?"., he asks her and get ready to start running around the ship delivering messages and getting used to the ship layout and the many faces.

"Shivikah is my given name, and Shivikah I will be called," Shiv says, the joke appearing to soar over her head like a seagull. "And yes, our jobs are assigned each day. Mr. Plugg is a kinder master than most in the City of Chains," She says the last in a practiced tone, as if she's rehearsed the phrase so much that it comes to her lips unnaturally. "Though you'll feel the lash sooner than later. My lash, in a way." She shrugs. "But it's not mine any longer. The officers have a right to any weapons they choose. Was that your pistol?"

[Chimaera]

"Shivikah it will be then", he says and is confused for a moment, "My pistol? Ah no. I prefer crossbows and shivs the better, but the best is not to have to use them at all".

"Any tip to avoid the lash as much as possible?", he eventuallt asks her after delivering some messages.