Pathfinder: Skulls and Shackles (IC)

Welcome to the Gallowbraide.

Note: OOC thread is here.

They all remember the night before. The ringing laughter of an incredibly rowdy evening, the joy of spread wealth, powerful scents of stew and strong perfume still burning their sinuses. As they awaken, other sensations begin to plague them. A pulsing, throbbing headache. The awful aftertaste of cheap wine. The hard wooden floor.... and the rhythmic creaking noise. The room seems to sway back and forth as though they were still drunk.

Before any of them have a chance to do more than collect their thoughts and sit up, heavy footfalls enter the pitch black room, accompanied by an agonizingly painful lantern light, spearing the eyes of those who try to take a look.

"Still out cold with the sun o'er the yardarms, eh?"

A hearty, bellowing voice rings their ears like thunder. A tall, lanky man with a whip clutched in his almost skeletal hand looms over the group. What might be mistaking as a look of pain but is clearly a dreadful smile infests his face, and he cracks the whip loudly overhead.

"On your feet, swabs! Get those ugly mugs up on deck and report for duty before Captain Weatherlight flays your flesh into sausage skins and has Fishguts fry you up for breakfast!"

__________________________________________________ ______

The party, along with many other unfamiliar faces, find themselves in the dark hold of a large ship. They are without weapons or gear apart from the clothes on their back.

DC 10 Perception: There is an aftertaste on your tongue... sort of an oily nutmeg flavor.

DC 15 Craft(alchemy) or DC 10 Knowledge(Nature): That flavor is a clear sign of oil of taggit poisoning.

You all remember consuming some kind of spicy food or spiced rum last night. Any of you who made the above checks realize that oil of taggit was probably added to something spicy you consumed to mask the taste.

DC 10 Intelligence: You vaguely remember this man's face amongst the crowd at the Formidably Maid last night. You're no fool - he was scouting you out... and you've been press ganged.

Grog, Level 3 barbarian (wild rager) Movement: 40
Hp: 51/60
Str: 20:+5. AC: 9/7
Sta: 17:+3
Dex: 7 :-2

Int: 8 :-1
Wis: 11: 0
Cha: 7 : -2

Feats:
Power Attack, Raging vitality, toughness

Rage powers: knock back

Attack
+1 great sword
+9, 2d6+8
Or
+11, 2d6+11

spear (5)
+1, 1d8 +5

CMB: 9
CMD: 6

Saves
Will:1
Reflex:-1
Fortitude:6

Skills:
Climb: 3+5+3
Swim: 3+5+3
Perception: 3+3
Profession Sailor: 1

Armor
Quilted Cloth:+1 dr/3 against small ranged piercing attacks.

Weapons +1 great sword, 5 spears

Heart of the fields (shrug off fatigue or exhaustion once a day)

Drawback: paranoid (Allies' dc to aid me is 15 instead of 10)

Traits: Beserker of the society (3 extra rage a day), Bred for war ( +1 to intimidate and CMB ), heirloom weapon (great sword +2 to bulrushes)


Ps: I might accidentally kill all of the other party members, just FYI
Ba-Ba-Barbarian! Ba-Ba-Barbarian!

Grog, a 6 foot 7 monster of a man lifts onto his shoulders any of his companions who are not yet awake (str check 21) and glaring at the tiny man with the stupid weapon walks upstairs to look for something to hit him with.

(INT Roll = 9+0, Perception Roll = 4+3, what rotten luck.)

http://img801.imageshack.us/img801/4165/aragnome.jpg

You see this lady look up, dazed. Her eyes dart left and right to find the miscreants she snuck out to the bar with. Sadly, they were nowhere to be seen. Without any support, the first emotion to hit her face will be an unassuredness, much like someone who was reaching behind themselves for something to protect them, but only ends up with a cliff.

She's going to use her darkvision to look around the room, if at all possible (Perception 7+3 = 10, if it matters... and what crummy roles so far >.<)

Perception Check 11

Knowledge Nature Check 10

Intelligence Check 6

Roused to consciousness by Grog's jostling stride and the blistering combination of salty spray and glaring sunlight, the halfling snorts and starts. Hanging upside down, he begins his customary morning hangover ritual. This is composed primarily of violent flailing and raspy profanity.

"Damn your eyes wench, if ye canna wait for a second pass then I'll be need'n me rum."

Taking stock of his surroundings, the halfling rights himself onto Grog's shoulders. He removes from his tricorn hat a hidden flask and takes a deep swig before stowing it away once more.

"Yar, nothing like the dog's hair. Tis good to be back at sea."

In a deep echoing voice Grog frowns at his Halfling companion. "Speak for ye self tiny one. The sea be a cruel mistress, and I fear we may find ourselves aboard an even crueler ship." And as he heaves his way up onto the deck a warm sea breeze brushes his nostrils and inhaling deeply he lets out a mournful sigh. "But I did miss the smell..."

"Yo Ho me hearty! Tis true the deep swallows scum and the best of us alike. Much as these winds please me, I know the air is ripe for bloodshed. Be not afi'erd for I be Aloroum Hinzel, might pirate and the cleverest rapscallion to ride the throes of Neptune. Stick to me matey, I'll steer ye true through the fiercest storms to the richest harbors."

Aloroum vaults expertly off of his towering friend and his bare feet smack the rolling suface of the deck. His chest is puffed like a showboating chimp as he struts the length of the ship. Aloroum's voice is low pitched for his size and it cuts through howling winds and the creaking ship as he bellows:

"Now where be the Cap'n, the day be fresh but I'll be need'n a good breakfast afore I 'kin set meself to the day's piracy."

(@Ara Bella, with your dark vision, it's easy to see the dimensions of the room as well as everyone in here. Along with Aloroum and Grog, there are several other people, though they appear to have fairly unremarkable features. They seem to be as confused and dazed as you are.)

The first muttering and simple questions of the press-ganged group are met with nothing but a grimacing smirk and a second crack of the well-worn leather whip. As their eyes adjust to the light, they can make out six formidable-looking pirates flanking him in the doorway, two of whom are women. The group splits apart as Grog and Aloroum head up onto deck, leaving the lanky man to seethe in the darkness of the hold.

Topside, it quickly becomes apparent that they were unconscious for quite a while. The group finds themselves standing on the gently swaying deck of a sizable ship in the middle of a clear blue ocean... Port Peril and the mainland are just an ochre haze many miles astern.

The recruits are ushered onward to where figures cluster around the mainmast, looking up at the higher deck on the stern where two figures stand. One of them is a slim, muscular Garundi woman with a full head of flaming red hair, ears pierced liberally with gold rings, and an eye patch - clearly the captain. The other is younger, his head partially shaved save for a long black ponytail, wearing a long blue coat and carrying a well-used cat-o'-nine-tails.

It seems like they aren't the only relatively new recruits - four others standing with them are set apart by their relative cleanliness and slight air of unease with the situation. There is hardly any time to get a good look at them, though, as the Captain clears her throat and addresses the crew with a deep, booming voice.

"Glad you could join us at last! Welcome 'board the Gallowbraide! My thanks for 'volunteering' to join my crew. I'm Cassandra Weatherlight. That's Captain Weatherlight 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.

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. You're all going to have to put in your share of work. Mr. Plugg! If you'd be so kind as to make real pirates out of this group of landlubbers, it'll save me having to put 'em in the sweatbox for a year and a day before I make pies out of 'em."

At the end of her speech the Captain walks away, leaving behind the young man with the cat-'o-nine - Mr. Plugg.

"You heard the Captain, swabs." His voice is cold and sharp. "I'm to make proper pirates out of you. First things first; we're shorthanded in the rigging and I need to find out which of you have what it takes for the job."

He gestures up the mainmast with his whip as though it were an extension of his arm, pointing to the crow's nest 60 feet above deck. "Get climbing, the lot of you. First one to the nest is the winner."
__________________________________________________ _____________

Climb the mast! The mast is large and covered in knotted ropes. There's just enough room for all of you to start climbing, assuming you don't want to attempt to sabotage one another... which is also an option. You have 60 feet to go, and each 10 feet requires a DC: 10 climb check. Anyone who refuses to climb is met first with cursing from Mr. Plugg, and a crack with the cat if there is further resistance.

(As a side note, make 6 rolls at once for the climb check, and those with the most successes will win the contest.)

A seer curls across Grog's lips at the mention of competition and a fire lights in his eyes (rage!) as he lets out a roar and running towards the starting point leaps into air (jump check 20! so 10 feet up) and digging his, only slightly bleeding fingers, into the mast, what apeared just a second ago to be a man, scurries up the side at what seems an inhuman speed (taking -5 penalty to climb at half my base speed (20 feet) instead of 1/4 (which is normal) knocking any who might near him in his climb aside as if they were small children's toys. (Knock down 27 on my first CMB, 24 on my second and 22 on my third if i need it. that's a standard action bull rush check that I can do once a turn while raging. If i succeed my opponent gets knocked that many feet in a direction and takes my Strength score in damage. (7) Oh and I'm knocking them sideways perpendicular to the ship and hopefully flying over the side and into the water.) And upon reaching the top Grog lets out a (joyful? Terrifying? Well it's certainly something) howl!

So that's 3 or 4 turns as far as I can see (but as we were not yet standing at the base of the mast I think it should it should be 4) One to get to the mast and jump up and 3 to climb the rest of the way. And my 6 climb checks, are 24, 27, 24, 30, 15 and 27 ( let me know if I did this wrong and I can redo it.)

Climb Rolls (1d20+3) = 4, 7, 16, 10, 15, 11

Ara looks up at the mast, slight intimidation becoming apparent. If she climbed too quickly or too well, she may be noticed as more than any other Gnome. With a grip, she begins to climb, but slips down the first few times - for good measure. The next time she wipes her fingers together and begins the ascent. Her unnaturally fast speed (20 ft climb) may outpace her competitors, but she hopes the initial slowdown is enough for them not to take notice. The last thing she wants to be right now is noticed.

EDIT: I realized after rolling this I get an additional +8 racial to climb for being a Grippli. I guess I'll just place that on my character and remember it next roll.

Aloroum listens to Weatherlight and Mr. Plugg, bemused and grinning. As his fellow captives rush towards the mainmast he quickly looks around and notices Fishguts the chef hauling a barrel of butter.

(Perception to notice chef, via Zac's consent: 19)

"Harr, Fortune be a smilin' wench this day . . ."

With a quick incantation and a swirl of Aloroum's fists: a mighty blast like a cannon shudders the deck as the barrel erupts forth a creamy deluge of Grease onto the mainmast, buttering the grip of any would be climbers. The mischievous halfling chortles gleefully as he rolls and bounds towards the rigging and scurries up. (Reflex save of 14 to grip the mast every turn)

(Also climbing at penalty to increase speed, half of 30 with fleet foot racial trait becomes 15ft per success. I land 5 with 16,19, 16, 20, 18, and 6)

"Avast me hearties, ye heard ta Bos'n! Last aloft'll lick the grim from the Bloody Wench's boots!"

I'm pretty sure Allorum should be able to cover 30 of the 60 feet of pole with grease since the spell is 25 ft+5 for ever 2 levels. Is he doing it at the top, bottom, middle? And we should still be able to move through the greased area at half of the speed we were currently moving at with a DC 10 acrobatics check right?

Also if if I'm in the affected area when the grease hits Grog does fall (reflex check of 0 lol)
BUT! As he is tumbling towards the ground flailing wildly he somehow manages to dig his fingers back into the wood causing it to splinter as he catches himself! (DC to catch yourself while falling is DC of Climb + 20 and I got a Nat! So check of 33!) and with a Malicious grin he soldiers on and makes it through the grease in 3 turns (3 acrobatics checks to move at half speed (10 ft) through affected area 13, 16, 11)

(Actually the spell covers a 10 ft. square, presumably a cube if that were what we were after but I didn't want to muck with Acrobatics checks and people constantly going prone with failed checks. I only wanted to make the mask difficult to climb so we're treating it as an object and therefore you drop it if you fail, and must make the check again anytime you try to pick up or use the mast. I'm counting 1 turn to cast my spell and get to the rigging, two turns of double moves gets me to the top, perhaps one more move to get up due to the angle. Even without accelerated climb Ara should manage by round 3 assuming she can make the initial reflex save. Grog will have a harder time needing to make a reflex save to climb and even if you catch yourself you need to make that save again to climb. This persists for a minute to you may have better luck following Aloroum although there are those bullrushes to account for and he may just lose time in a raging fit at the bottom if he can't tear himself away. It's bad news for Ara as well if she gets shoved. Regardless I'd say 3 turns is a respectable e.t.a. for everyone and 18 seconds is damn impressive to get into a crow's nest.)

Aloroum is still chuckling as he flops into the nest and he takes a few seconds to survey the ship and it's surroundings. He clutches his cap to his brow, guarding against the gentle tug of the wind and shielding his eyes from the sun with his other hand.

(Knowledge Geography of 25 to know the ship's location and apparent heading.
Knowledge Local of 7 on the Gallowbraide and her captain Weatherlight)

Comforted, by knowing this part of the sea if a bit unsettled by the company of unknown crew and ship, Aloroum settles into a sprawling sitting position.

"Did I ever tell you lads of time I sailed with the merry crew of the Boisterous Porpoise? I bin a mere cabbin swab at the time but even so we shared many a jolly song of adventure and booty . . ."

(Aloroum tells a stirring tale of sunken treasure and siren calls: Perform Oratory 22)

Ah got it, the 25 is the distance it can be cast from. But I do think you are stretching the rules of Grease quite a bit there. And you should probably read the amendment on the srd on how the object greasing works. Because if I understand it right if the person who's holding the object makes the save then the object doesn't have grease on it. It saves against the effect of the spell. For now it doesn't really matter i guess since it's cinematic and we should really just get on with it but just for future reference. Grog makes it up eventually lol

(@Aloroum You're about 25 miles north of Port Peril, headed for the northern islands in the archipelago, though just a small dot peaking over the horizon, you can see Widowmaker Isle, and just beyond that, further north, is Tempest Cay, rumored to house an enormous treasure cache just waiting to be ransacked. You'd bet 50 gold pieces that's where the Gallowbraide is headed.

As for Captain Weatherlight, the check is only a DC5, so you made it. She's rather famous as a free captain of the Shackles and anyone who's spent any time near the water has heard tell of her and her exploits. She seeks to become the most powerful pirate in the Shackles and will stop at nothing to achieve that goal.)

With Aloroum leading the pack, the entire party manages to reach the crow's nest along with another of the new recruits. He sits close by, deeply enthralled by Aloroum's tale. Grog has mananged to knock one of the less fortunate climbers back onto the deck, which knocks him out cold as his head catches the lip of a rum barrel.

Down below, Mr. Plugg calls up from the base of the mainmast. "Alright, 'nuff lollygaggin' up there! Get down here front and center! No time to sit around sightseeing all day - there's work to be done."

Once the recruits make it back to the main deck, he nods at Aloroum. "You are the winner: congratulations. You're our new rigger. You'll be working directly under me." He turns to the others. "The rest of you are swabs, save one. Our cook has a bit of a drinking problem, and I'm damned tired of eating rubbish. You there." He says, pointing at Grog, "You're a big lad, you've clearly eaten some food in your time. Head down to the galley and get acquainted with Fishguts. Someone can point you in the right direction if you get lost."

He turns, drumming his fingers along the worn handle of his flog. "Riggers, with me. The rest of you, head to the poop deck and get your orders from Master Scourge."

Time to split up! Head to your respective bosses to receive your work for the day. You can also make perception checks to see what you notice about different areas of the ship and nearby crew members. The Gallowbraide is a surprisingly large and bustling place, and there's a lot going on.

(Perception 23)

Aloroum matches stride with Mr. Plugg, following him about the deck. The halfling bobs about between workers and around cargo with expert care. He's no stranger to a sailor's work and his small stature is no hindrance as he was born at sea and, given his way, he'd die at sea.

"Arr, tis good to be sailin' with ye squire. I do 'na kin why ye'd not simply ask me ta join yer voyage. Everyone knows: Aloroum always be keen to hunt for lost booty. I would ask when the Cap'n gonna be joinin' us for a brew. Tis a honored custom of mine, brings good fortune and a safe journey."

(Diplomacy check on Mr. Plugg: 18)

Grog letting out a defeated sigh and climbing down out of the rigging mumbles to himself "why does the Halfling always have to win..." Landing on the main deck he takes a survey of the ship ( perception check 18) to look for the captains quarters and making a quick mental note heads off to the kitchen. With out too much difficulty finding it (takes 10) he burst open the door and takes a deep whiff of whatever may be cookin.

(Feel free to read every section of the post, but for reference, Ara Bella's scetion is the Foredeck, Aloroum's is the Poopdeck, and Grog's is the Galley.)

Foredeck-

Past the mainmast and the hatch leading down to the middle deck, two flights of stairs lead up some ten feet to the foredeck, where Master Scourge - the man who woke you all - is waiting to assign tasks. The foremast rises 30 feet from the center of this deck.
DC 10 Perception: Two closed doors lead from the floor of the main deck into the space under the foredeck, and each set of stairs seems to has a room under them, as well. The bowsprit rears up from the raised deck, intricately carved in the shape of a dragon.
DC 15 Perception: You get a good look at the layout of the main deck as you cross it. The hatch you came up, when closed, is a ten foot square wooden grille. This morning it was open and a set of rickety steps was pulled down to allow passage to the middle deck. It is now closed, as is its twin on the other side of the mainmast. The sweatbox sits next to the base of the mast.
DC 20 Perception: At the foot of the mainmast, a structure is rigged of wood and a cross of thick, coarse rope. This is clearly the whipping post. The ship's clock, a macabre brass-and-copper object depicting worms writhing through whale corpses, hands above the whipping post. The sweatbox is locked with a high-quality padlock. Although the hatches to the middle hold are closed, you caught a glimpse of the massive brute selected to be Cook's Mate being directed aft down a flight of stairs.

____________________________________________

Master Scourge and a wiry female gnome that is clearly the bosun's mate stand on the foredeck, presiding over a group of eleven of your fellow crew. Scourge explains(in what seems to be his typical unpleasant and bullying way) that you are swabs, the lowest men and women on the ship, and responsible for all the day-to-day menial tasks that need to be done around the Wormwood. Fail your job, and you'll be flogged. Fail your job again, and you'll be flogged more. Fail it one more time, and it's the sweatbox for you. Keep to your work, and don't poke around areas of the ship you don't belong. If they catch you stealing, you'll be keelhauled. Get the picture?

Ara Bella,you're a runner. You're going to spend the day passing messages to the crew and officers between the different areas of the ship so that people don't have to walk themselves. It's going to be tiring, but you'll get a good idea of the layout of the ship. A DC 10 Acrobatics check, and then a DC 10 constitution check to avoid fatigue.

As the pirates are dispatched to their daily work, one of the other swabs attempts to get the attention of one of the newest recruits.

"Psst. New girl. Hey, over here!" A tall young woman with a tricorne hat and a mane of fiery red curls gestures for the group to walk and talk as they head to their tasks. She smiles at them, the corners of her dark eyes crinkling pleasantly, and lights a long clay pipe. "'Scuse me if this seems unreasonably bold," she winks, "but it looks like you might need a friend 'round here, and friendship just happens to be something I've got to provide. Along with..." she fumbles in one of the pouches at her belt, and produces an item with a flourish. "This. I figgered you might need a little protection; the crew can be a little... feisty at night.," she adds, giving Ara her confiscated punching dagger. "I was able to get it back from the quartermaster - sorry I wasn't able to get everything, but even this much was a right miracle. I had to convince her that there was an ancient and terrible Besmaran curse on it." She laughs, and the motion causes her bosom to heave pleasingly under her half-laced white shirt, tucked at the waist into a leather waist-cincher. "I'm Sandara Quinn. I figger on a pirate ship it's not what you know, but who you know. Friends help each other out, enemies cause trouble. It's basic survival. So if you need anything or have any questions, let me know. I ain't been here long, but I know the basics and who's who around here."

Poop Deck-

This raised deck stands 15 feet above the main deck - just a little bit higher than the foredeck. It contains the ship's wheel, and seems to usually be the domain of ship's officers. Mr. Plugg stands in front of the wheel, waiting to dispatch you and six other riggers to your work. Two flights of stairs lead up to it, on either side of the protruding balcony containing the wheel. The mizzenmast rises 30 feet above this deck.
DC 10 Perception: Each set of stairs has a door underneath, leading to an interior room. Underneath the protruding bridge is a staircase leading down to the middle hold, and two lavishly decorated doors. A metal cage hangs from the side of the mizzenmast.
DC 15 Perception: See description of the main deck above. The ship's wheel is shockingly lovely, three feet across with ten silver spokes decorated with silver inlays, each bolt carved to resemble kraken heads. A dead body rots inside the hanging cage.
DC 20 Perception: See description of the main deck in last post. There is a parrot perched atop the cage, whistling forlornly at the corpse and muttering piratical-sounding curses to itself. It seems to have plucked a few patches of its skin bare of feathers from stress.

__________________________________________________ ______

Mr. Plugg informs you all that you are the ship's riggers, in charge of tending to the ropes and sails. You all report directly to him. He explains the consequences for failing to work and stealing - see the 'foredeck' portion.

Aloroum: You're set to do line work. It's hard work, hoisting and lowering sails. You'll need a DC 10 Profession(sailor) or Dexterity check, and then a DC 10 Constitution check to avoid being fatigued.

(Diplomacy check unsuccessful.) As Aloroum chats with Mr. Plugg, the man seems most disinterested in the topic, solely focused on the task at hand; making sure the riggers do their jobs properly. "The cap'n hardly ever comes out o' tha blasted quarters o' hers. Always so damned focused on that map o' hers..." He trails off a bit, obvious distaste at the captain's actions written all over his face. "I'll pass along the message though."

The Galley-

You're directed to the aft staircase, leading down to the maindeck and told to take an immediate right at the bottom of the stairs through the door leading to both the galley and the quartermaster's storage.

This cramped and chaotic kitchen holds two wooden worktables, several cupboards, and two stoves against the port wall... as well as virtually every cooking implement imaginable and a frightening array of meat cleavers. A score of chickens and three goats wander freely throughout the chamber. The kitchen is a madness of dirt, food, and knives, and finding anything in here is going to require dedicated searching.

DC 20 Perception: The stoves are lit, and large cauldrons bubble away atop them. A huge array of spices mingle with barrels of rainwater, two tuns of rum, cupboards full of ship's biscuit and salted beef, barrels of sauerkraut, and a small supply of fresh vegetables. A trio of harpoons, a spear, and a grappling hook hang on the wall.

_____________________________________

Grog opens the door to a chaotic flurry of noise and motion. The cackling of chickens and a stampede of hooves meets his ears even before he fully enters the kitchen, and it quickly becomes apparent that a small herd of goats have escaped their leashes and are cowering on the far side of the kitchen, on the other side of a table from the barrels containing the ship's rum rations.

He hears the cook before he sees him, a gruff muttering voice interspersed with the shrill, repetitive distress-clucking of a number of chickens.

"Ye damned beastie, 'ow did you escape your cage? Blasted thing, terrorizin' my chickens; where are you 'idin?... ach! 'Ere!" There is a scrape, a clang, an explosion of enraged chickens, and simian screech as a small furry brown shape streaks past Grog and out the door.

A man stands up, appearing from behind the barrels amidst a drift of clutter and debris, holding a long-handled spatula. The clucking begins to die down and a fat black rooster flutters clumsily to his shoulder, ruffling its feathers in clear indignation and nuzzling the cook's stubbled cheek. The cook himself - what did they call him? Fishguts - stares blankly at the brute standing in the doorway for a moment as if wondering why he could possibly be there before realization dawns on him.

"Oh, you must be one 'o the new ones. Plugg said I would be gettin' a cook's mate." He reaches up and affectionately scratches the head of the chicken on his shoulder. He introduces himself as Ambrose Kroop, and he's clearly drunk. He's not insensible, but he appears to be as much of a mess as his kitchen.

A short, burly man, he looks as though he may have been handsome once, in his youth, before he let himself go. Now middle-aged, a build that was once merely thick has started to become fat, his wiry black hair is greying, and the tattoos on his still-muscular arms are faded and blurry. He wears an apron filthy with years worth of stains, and his flushed face and stained teeth show the signs of habitual alchoholism.

He describes the job of the cook's mate, which basically entails helping him prepare meals, and actually acquiring food for meals by fishing on a fairly regular basis. After giving Grog a basic description of his job, he lapses into silence for a moment before speaking.

"I've got one bit of advice. It's poison, this ship, but don't let anyone hear you say it aloud. The hull listens, see, and the Captain hears it all. Poison the Gallowbraide is, rotten to the core. You'll not meet a more sour piece of work than Captain Weatherlight in all your days at sea, and his crew's the same. 'Specially the first mate, Mr. Plugg. Viscious 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 harm them."

He looks over at the pots bubbling on the stove, then back to Grog and shrugs. "Dinner's mostly doing itself, by now. Just take a seat and have a drink."

Grog, Your job for today is "Bull Session". You're hanging out with Kroop and listening to his stories. You must drink an additional rum ration, but you can take an extra action for the day.

A Pirate's Day

Alright, folks. This first part of the game is going to be very sandbox-y due to your situation and the way I'm running this. This post explains how your day is going to be structured and the things you can chose to do.

During the Day-
You get to choose one action every day.

Work Diligently: Work hard at your job with whoever else is doing it with you, gaining a +4 to any one work-related check.
Influence: Make normal checks for a job's daily task, and schmooze with an NPC. You can make a check to change their attitude toward you.
Sneak: Make normal checks for a job's daily task, and briefly explore one area of the ship. You can make one perception check for any area without chance of detection.
Shop: Take a -2 to your daily job and visit the quartermaster.
Shirk: Take a -2 to your daily job and take time fully exploring one area of the ship. You can take 10 on a perception or other skill check in an area of your choosing, but it requires a stealth check to not be caught.

Note that taking penalties on your job will also apply to the Con check.

At Night-
You have one action at night, as well. You can attempt to take up to two actions(the ones marked with *) in the middle of the night as well, but that requires a DC 14 Constitution check for the first, DC 18 for the second to not be fatigued the next day.

Sleep: Go to bed early to recover from fatigue.
Gamble: Play or bet on a game of chance!
Entertain: Make a perform check to entertain the crew. How you do that is up to you.
Influence*: Same as above.
Sneak*: Take time exploring. You can take a 20 on perception or any other check.
Steal*: Attempt to open a locked door or locker.

Being Sneaky
Here are the DCs for attempting shenanigans while on the ship. These can be done with slight of hand or stealth depending on what action you're taking.

Attempting a stealthy action in a crowd: DC 20
Attempting a stealthy action where there is a chance of discovery(most things): DC 15
Attempting a stealthy action under cover of a suitable diversion: DC 10

Rum Rations
Aboard many ships, half a pint of rum is distributed to each crew member at dusk. The rum ration is doled out more to keep the crew sated and docile than for recreation. The penalty for selling or spilling your rum ration is six lashes, or six lashes from the cat-'o-nine for a second offense. Deliberately tipping out rum without being seen is a DC:10 stealth check. You can often request more rum if you please. Rum counts as an addicting drug. It is a DC: 5 fortitude save to avoid becoming addicted. If addicted, drinking causes 1d4 bonus to charisma, 1d8 hours of fatigue, and 1d3 Con damage.

Grog nods his head and and quietly mutters "Pleasure to meet you. My name is is Grog." Perception check (21) to spot the escaped goat. And grog is off like a shot. With hands wrapped around the goat grapple check (18) he lifts up the goat and looking Kroop straight in the eye says "Now, where does he belong?"
Kroop and Grog then sit and talk, well Kroop talks Grog says very little choosing instead to listen. They enjoy much more that one extra cup of rum, (I made 5 checks none of which were below 16) and if Kroop passes out then Grog grabs something, anything really to eat, and a picks up the most obviously heavy blade of the many lying about and slips it into his boot.

Grog then heads up to see the quarter master.

Then, if Kroop did not pass out i have one more day action So grog is going to look for someone new who is struggling with a (Strength related) chore or task, perception check (17) and give them a hand. He will work diligently on what ever the task may be, even using his rage to fuel himself. check of (26) He says little as the task is being done and then looking them in the eyes he nods and lets a slight grin curve across is lips before he walks away.

Then for his night action Grog goes out looking for some arm wrestling. I will let you decide if that qualifies as a gamble action, an entertain action, or little of both. (My strength check for the first game is 24 and he gladly accepts any other challengers)

Then in the middle of the night he Sneaks* to BOTH of the other main sections of the ship taking 20 on his perception checks and finally turning in for the night.
20 on my first fatigue check and 26 on my second lol

Perception Check: 8+3=11
Acrobatics Check: 3+8=11, Constitution Check: 13+1=14

After getting a chance to finally orient herself, Ara begins to take in her surroundings. Due to the unexpected fatigue, she can only catch glimpses of the immediate area around her. As much as she would like to know more about the nooks and crannies of the ship, it will have to wait. The day's tasks are at hand.

Sandra looks at the punching dagger, grabs it quickly, and shoves it under her clothing.

Sleight of Hand Check: 8+9=17

She very quickly darts her eyes around the immediate area and looks back. "Ara. And while I appreciate it, this may get us both in major trouble. Thank you. I don't know where your kindness comes from, but I hope to repay it."

Knowing that something like this could be possible, she decides to take a bit of extra time to explore the area and get a better reading on what hidey holes there may be.

Perception Check: 12+3=15

Not knowing what else to expect, Ara finishes her job and gets ready to hit the hay. When the Rum comes around, she remembers what got her here in the first place and does her best not to drink it.

Stealth Check: 8+14=22

Perception 20, Dexterity 10, Constitution 3, Perception 7, Fortitude 11, Perform 13

Standing beside the hanging cage, which sways and spins lazily in the wind, Aloroum accepts his tasks for the day from Mr. Plugg. The halfling struggles slightly to maintain his balance as he works to secure innumerable knots, dozens of feet above the deck. The motion of the ship combined with the delicacy of the work wrack the small pirate's body, leaving him well worn by dusk.
Aloroum speaks to his partners as they work, regaling them with a tale of an island he'd once adventured upon.

"Cliffs on all sides there were, so high our ship might've been but an apple inna 'alf full washtub. Twas the rumor that this be the hidden Garden of Neptune, guarded by savage squidmen. We had to fire one of our own out of a specially rigged cannon, wearing one of ol' Chef Treacle's pots as a helmet to break his fall. He came back to us, divin' 'tween the rocks at the foot o' the cliff. We hauled him aboard, sputtering, an' he pulled from his trousers an emerald the size of a skull."

After the rigging crew is dismissed for the evening Aloroum makes his way to the galley, peering under tables and into cabinets in search of his monkey mate. Discouraged by his failure to find the little spider monkey, he nurses his rum and finds a circle of his new crew mates to sit with and share yet another story. Finding the new recruit whom had joined him in the crow's nest that morning, he finishes his tale of sirens. The lure of the siren is soothing to the hearts of the tired sailors, even as Aloroum relays it. (Perform Sea Shanty to recover fatigue: 30)

Let us begin with what happens as you work, and immediately after, then using those checks for the end of the night, we'll go over what happens before everyone beds down.

Beginning with Grog.

Edited
As Grog chases the furry critter, it quickly becomes apparent that it is not a goat, rather it is a a quite excited spider monkey. As Grog grabs hold of the small simian, it shrieks loudly, flailing about in his grip as Fishguts points him to a small opened cage on the far wall. Soon the furry critter is safely locked away, but makes it a point to protest on a regular basis about its confinement by screeching and making pointed glares at both Grog and Fishguts.

"Ah see ya met er newes' recroot." Fishguts bellows out a hearty drunken laugh. "Good ta 'ave tha' furry lil devil outta me way, doin' nothin' but 'armin' me chicks."

It quickly becomes clear to Fishguts that Grog is not the conversational sort, and the older man chuckles "An' 'ere I thought Grok was the silent type," he smiles and continues on with his stories regardless.

Despite his somewhat disturbing appearance and the appaling state of the kitchen... Fishguts proves to be the nicest person Grog has met so far on the Gallowbraide. He shares a series of stories about the time he was a professional chef at the finest restaurant in Port Peril. Though he had clearly intended to do the cooking himself today and let his apprentice get comfortable, he assigns a few tasks to Grog to capitalize on his strengths, and nods approvingly at his success. (No checks needed here.)

"If yer lookin' for a weapon, Ah wouldn't go to the armory," he suggests before Grog takes off. "What's in there is reserved only for battles, and Master Gunner Krine keeps a close eye on 'er stock. It's six lashes if you're caught muckin' around in there, and it's locked during the day anyhow. You'll be wantin' to talk to my friend Grok, the quartermaster, about getting anything for yer personal use. Tell her I sent ye and she'll be a bit less stern."

The walk to the quartermaster is a few steps, quite literally. There is a room adjacent to the galley. Its thick wooden door is closed, but there is a hatch and small countertop in the center of it. The hatch is also closed, with the words "Nock 4 Servis" carved into it. One of the letter "s"s is backwards.

Aloroum

The work passes by fairly quickly, uneventfully until Aloroum feels a sense of extreme happiness, more exhilaration and the need to leap through the air. It seems his familiar has been set free of wherever he might have been held. (If you'd like you can call your familiar to you at this point and describe how the reunion takes place, he's gallivanting about the deck after his daring escape from the galley. If not, I'll arrange for it next post.)

While Aloroum works and regales the other riggers with his tales of the high seas, he notices one of the other riggers is a bit more peculiar than the rest, and speaks to him briefly when she catches his eye.

"Wonderful day, isn't it?" she calls over to the halfling,clinging with long-practiced grace to a nearby line. "You're one a the new ones, right? I'm Samms. Samms Toppin, but everyone just calls me Barefoot."

The woman is tall and lean, and looks rough but genuinely friendly. Her hair is short and dirty blonde, and would fall just past her chin if it weren't being whipped around by the wind in the rigging. She's clearly spent most of her life outdoors and is well-suited to this type of work, as her hands are calloused and her skin tanned dark by the sun. Her nickname is accurate - even up in the rigging she isn't wearing shoes, using long, nimble toes to help cling to the ropes.

Of all the other riggers, she seems the friendliest. The others seem to range from indifferent, to awkwardly unfriendly, to actively hostile to the newcomers. Barefoot could probably tell you more about them.

Ara Bella

"Think nothing of it! We've gotta stick together if we wanna stay alive here after all. "I haven't been on board long, just enough time to figure out who everyone is and what's going on around there. Myself and three other people were picked up over the last couple days... and then they grabbed all you in one fell swoop." She crinkles her nose and shakes her head.

She looks like she's about to say something else, but bites her lip instead, whatever it was, it might be better not to do so under the watchful eyes of the ship's officers.

Sandara spends her workday chatting with Ara and helping her with her tasks (you can't take 10 for any checks while working, but each friendly NPC you're with gives you a +2).

You perception check, along with the descriptions you qualified for up above show no particularly useful hidey holes, though the sweatbox, if unoccupied and successfully unlocked would prove a useful hiding spot--if you want to run the risk of being locked inside yourself.

"Aye, well met Barefoot. I be Aloroum Hinzel, mighty pirate. Tis good to be a-meetin' a lass I be havin' sommat in common with." The halfling grins as he slaps a bare sole against the mast. "We be havin' the makin's o' a splendiferous voyage. If'n ol' Aloroum be worth 'is salt: I'd say we be headin' to Tempest Cay and a King's Ransom. What say ye to that?"

Aloroum is relieved to have someone to talk to, not used to being ignored. He'll chat with Samms as he works, about Mr. Plugg and his riggers, Captain Weatherlight and her map, the Articles followed by the crew, and the supposed heading of the Gallowbraide. If she gets nervous about talking about any of this: Aloroum will move on to one of his tall tales to keep her in high spirits.

"Now they'd caught me red handed, an' walkin' the plank woulda bin the end of it twere it not for the goose smuggled away in me jacket . . ."

(Diplomacy to befriend Barefoot 29)

Grog raises his enormous hand and raps at the door cautiously and waits. If she comes to the door he nods his head and grunts "Hello. I'm one of the new recruits. I've been assigned to help out Mr Kroop in the kitchen and he said i should come to you if I don't want to be walking around without protection. Of course i know that there's no such thing as a free meal on a ship like this though." And with a grin he adds "I was wondering if you might have anything in my size."

Aloroum

Barefoot smiles and chats with Aloroum on all manner of things. "Aye, heard Plugg talking 'bout it a few days back. No idea what manner o' loot the Captain's got her eye on, but Tempest Cay's a long ways north o' here. The map o' hers..." Samms trails off for a bit before leaning in close and whispering, so as not to be overheard by the other riggers. "You didn't hear it from me, but Weatherlight pours over that accursed thing like a man possessed. Some o' the crew think it's just greed, but I think that map's got a hold on her. T'ain't nobody in thier right mind that gets that reckless o'er a bit o' loot, ya know?"

She doesn't have much to say about Plugg and the other riggers except most of them are rather nasty pieces of work, Plugg is quick to play favorites and the riggers are all to happy to do anything they can to say on his good side, even if it means getting one of their own keelhauled in the process.

"Speakin o' which..." She continues on with her work as she speaks, not wanting to get the whip or the cat'o'nine from Plugg, "Last night they caught someone stealing from Grok, she's our quarter master, an' trying to make fer one o' the boats. Scourge caught and interrogated him. He's gonna be keelhauled during the bloody hour tonight."

After that, Samms doesn't have much to say, but relishes in Aloroum's tales, hanging on his every word. (Barefoot is now your friend, and more than willing to help you out where she can, within reason of course.)

Grog

There is a low growl from the other side of the door before the door rips open toward the inside of the room. A large half-orc woman looms in the doorway, stooping underneath the entrance to pass through the low clearance. She wiry black hair is tied back in a tight bun and a large scar runs from one ear, down her neck and under her chin, back up to the other ear; as if someone had cut her throat. She shoots a menacing glare at Grog as he begins to speak.

(Perception DC 15) Its rather obvious from her slight sway and slow blinking that she has just woken from a nap, this probably has something to do with her less than pleasant disposition (if you care).

Her face softens a bit when Grog mentions Kroop, and she lets out another growl. She doesn't seem much for conversation but all the same she walks back through the door, motioning for Grog to follow. Inside the room, it's immediately apparent that Grok doesn't care much for sorting her inventory. Everything is loosely piled in the corners of the rooms, weapon, armor and anything else is very much lumped together in haphazard fashion. There are also a series of lockers along the wall, which Grok unlocks with a key, rummaging through it to toss some quilted cloth Grog.

"This be yours, yea?" She speaks in a raspy, croaking voice, something akin to a toad having its limbs torn off while it yet lives. "I'll give ya that as a freebie, since ya know Kroop an' all. Anythin' else ya want, though, we'll need ta talk price." And with those words, she sits on her bed (this room serving as her quarters as well) and pulls out a bottle, downing swig after swig of whatever it is.