Sarone's Skull and Shackles: The Wormwood Mutiny: IC

[Sarone]

Archpaladin

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The gentle rocking of the wooden floor greets you as your senses gain focus. Opening your eyes, the darkness gets a bit lighter as you see a few lamps hang from the ceiling, casting what light they can on the area around you, several lumps on the ground.

A second goes by before you realize the shapes are various humanoids: mostly human in various outfits (or lack there of), plus a male dwarf in rugged clothes, a male elf in sailor's clothes, a female halfling, and two gnomes, a female in barroom attire and a male in a garish purple outift meant to look like a pirate's costume, at best.

When you start moving around, the male gnome looks at you. "Aye, young las," the gnome says gently as he tiptoes his way to you. "You wouldn't happen to have a little coin on ye, wouldn't ya?"

As you work on getting your thoughts together, you hear footsteps above you, stomping towards the bow from the stern. What little you make out indicates the person is not only in a foul mood, but also could be in charge.

(OOC: Arch, you have about 5 minutes before the welcome party gets there. Taking stock of your gear takes a few seconds, and you find just a waterskin, a bedroll, a belt pouch, and your signet ring. Waking one of the others will take a minute, though they can't wake anyone else up in time. You can ask the gnome to help you, thought that will take a diplomacy check. You won't be able to change his initial attitude to you in the time you have.)

Everyone Else:

Your slumber is shattered when you hear the screaming of a man, his bright lamp in his left hand, a scourge in the other. Behind and off to the sides are a number of other sailors, mostly human though you see a dwarf and two humans. The expressions on their faces and the weapons in hand, clubs and saps, indicate they are not going to be friendly with you in the least.

"Still abed with the sun over the yardarm," the man says, making it known that the question didn't require an answer. "On your feet, ye filthy swabs!"

Looking to one of the formerly sleeping crew, the man takes his scourge and strakes at one of the posts, leaving a series of gouges in the wood. "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!"

Looking to his followers, the man goes next to the door, leaning against it with his right arm over his chest, his left arm outstretched, the lantern hanging there as though he was a gatekeeper of a crypt.

(OOC For All: If you wish, make a perception and an Intelligence Check.)

Morbis Meh

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Along with the clothes on your back, you are left only with a bedroll and a waterskin. The rest of your gear is gone.

King Tius

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Along with the clothes on your back and your tricorne, you are left only with a bedroll, a waterskin, two belt pouches, and your spell component pouch. Your spellbook is next to you, though it looks like whoever went through it didn't show the proper respects for it. The rest of your gear is gone.

HuskyBoi

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Along with the clothes on your back and a set of brass knuckles still clenched in your fist, you find your backpack with the journal, ink and ink pen, the bullseye lantern with a pint of oil (does not count against the five extra pints) still in it, as well as the grappling hook with the rope. The rest of your gear is gone.

IRollTwenties

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Along with the clothes on your back, a belt pouch, waterskin and a set of brass knuckles still clenched in your fist, you find your backpack with grappling hook and rope and bedroll. The rest of your gear is gone.

SanguinePenguin

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Along with the clothes on your back, a belt pouch and a specll component pouch, you have your books as well as the ink, ink pen, and the loose paper. The rest of your gear is gone.

Rhyvurg

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You come to, only realising that you are left with the clothes on your back, the sash around your waist, and a set of brass knuckles still clenched in your fist.

Sarone

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Along with the clothes on your back, your gear is remarkably left mostly untouched, except for the lack of weapons and the Formulae Book.

[Rhyvurg]

Gareth bolts to his feet, crouched and ready to spring. He felt practically naked without his armor, and this was not the naked-among-strangers kind of wakeup he was somewhat accustomed to. Still, the knucks were a comfortable weight in his hand, and at least he wasn't the only one these tossers had shanghaied. He staggers slightly, not accustomed to being on a ship. No way he was fighting his way off this boat without his gear, and probably not alone at that. For now, play along, let these sea dogs bark. He could wait until it was time to bark back. Slipping the knucks into a pocket on his sash, Gareth cracks his knuckles and heads for the door.

[Morbis Meh]

Cas gets up and yawns looking around at her surrounding she laughs softly Well this is most certainly the first time anyone has knocked me out and put me ON a ship... Kind of nice instead of being the other way around for a change She looks at the others, an odd assortment of beings ranging from gruff looking humans, one particularily foul smelling dwarf, to two human ladies. Judging that she was at the very least whole she smiles brightly "My what a charming man that was! Though I suppose today has already started on an up beat, time to meet our new and probably violent captain! Toodles everyone and for you tall folk, remember to duck on the way out!" She quickly scampers off in the direction the grouchy man who woke them up.

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perception (1d20+7)[13]
intelligence (1d20+1)[9]

[King Tius]

Binderal bolts upright, nearly hitting his head on the bunk just above his own. Hurriedly he feels around for his spellbook, finding it and cradling it much like a lost childhood toy. He quickly flips through the pages with a frown on his face, doing his best to iron out a wrinkle here and there with liberal uses of prestidigitation. Once satisfied that his book is back in decent condition, he stuffs it under the mattress of his bunk and grabs his tricorne hat. Only then does he realize that he isn't the only one in the room...

"Has anyone seen my thimble?"

With a worried look on his face, he hurries out of the room, not bothering with pleasantries.

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Intelligence: (1d20+5)[10]
Perception: (1d20)[13]

[SanguinePenguin]

Varya awakens to the sound of unfamiliar voices in an unfamiliar place. She doesn't open her eyes immediately. This is not my hotel room... where am I? A soft creak of strained wood, a slight slow lurching from side to side, the word captain - a boat. Hands? Unbound. Legs? Unbound. Slight movements clue her into her situation. Slowly, she opens her eyes. blades and bow? Missing.

Her last memory floods back to her. The deal never went beyond pleasantries before things stopped making sense - nausea, slurred words, a confused cry, then came the floor. She reaches for her belt pouch, Journal? Spellbook? Still here.

Varya surveys those around her, finally beginning to listen to the words of the talking man with the scourge. She sighs, press-ganged.

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Perception: (1d20-1)[4]
Intelligence: (1d20+3)[10]

[HuskyBoi]

Harold snaps his eyes open and cowers until the man with the scourge is gone. What am I doing here? What's going on? I'm not meant to be here, I was just drinking and... oh this can't be right... Still got my brass knuckles. Okay, so maybe I can get out- no, too many of them. Right. Let's see what's going on. Keep the knuckle close, don't let anyone push you around. Yeah, they can't push me around, I'm an adventurer now!

With an falsely confident smile, he hauls himself to his feet, picks up the backpack, and with one hand stuffed in a pocket and tightly clenching the brass knuckles, he heads out of the door.

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Perception (1d20+5)[20]
Intelligence (1d20)[17]

[Archpaladin Zousha]

The Qadiran frowns as she takes stock of the situation.

"I'm afraid I don't seem to have any coin to give, else I'd do so in a heartbeat," she whispers.

She watches as the others stir while the man with the whip arrives. She winces as he makes his mark on the post. Definitely not a man to be trifled with. She didn't want her soft, supple skin marred by the lash. Scars seemed to be more attractive on hard people, and hard she was definitely not.

She raises an eyebrow at the gnome's enthusiasm to their apparent kidnapping, but there's little time to question it as she falls in line.

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Perception: (1d20+6)[21]
Intelligence: (1d20+1)[3]

[Sarone]

Archpaladin, Husky, Morbis, Rhyvurg, Sarone, and Tius

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Despite the nausea from drinks and other questionable item you ingested or not, you sense an aftertaste of oily nutmeg on your tongue. Please make a Knowledge (Nature) or Alchemy check.

Ezekials Rolls

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Alchemy (1d20+8)[28]
Knoweldge (Nature) (1d20+7)[17]

Beat DC 15 Alchemy or DC 10 Knowledge (Nature)

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You identify the after taste as oil of taggit. The various foods and drinks were probably used to deliver the oil. It is also commonly used to knockout victims and if often used by pressgangs and other scoundrels.

Husky, Rhyvurg, Tius, and Sanguine

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Despite the fog of slumber, you remember spotting the man with the scourge the other night, going around and taking notice of you.

As the man wakes the crew up, Ezekial immediately tries to check his gear. The lady from last night, he thinks to himself, doing a quick check of his gear. Blast it, looks like my armor, weapons, and formulae book are missing. Need to inquire on that as soon as possible.

Quickly moving, Ezekial hurries up the stairs, barely looking back.

IRollTwenties

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Though most of the passangers moved towards the stairs, one in particular, Rugnar, lays on his side, snoring soundly. The man with the scourge looks at him, a look of contempt on his face, before he goes over and kicks him. "I said get up, you blasted ground digger," the man says, striking one more at the hull above the dwarf.

Finally aroused enough to look up, Rugnar lets out a huff before rolling over. Seething now, the man looks to his group nodding to a large Rahadoumi man and a male half-orc, who immediately go over and grab the dwarf, hauling him up by the arms, his feet dangling a few inches off the ground. Turning around, they bring Rugnar up to the man, who leans close to Rugnar.

"I'm sorry, princess, but we aren't in the business of letting swabs like you sleeping in," the man says, he stands up. "Ungrateful swabs like you aren't uncomon and must be shown how to serve aboard a ship. I'll teach you how."

You make your way up the stairs to the level above, you are greeted with the sight of another hold. Immediately in front of you and towards the stern side are a number of barrels, as well as a few siege engines with grates letting in sunlight. Three sailors, a female half orc in leathers, a fat human male with a blood stained apron and a peg leg, and a human female with a peg leg as well, her face in a perpetual scowl, are arrayed around the stairs, clearly acting as a sort of barrier to ensure the new crew make it up top.

As you go around, a hulking man, his body covered in tar and feathers with shells at his feet, sitting on a crate. Before you start up the stairs, he jumps up, hands reaching out to Artazostra, only to halt as the shackles around his waist and wrists a taut. He lets out a feral scream, arching his back.

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Intimidate (1d20+8)[24]

As you reach the next level, a female human in long robes and a human male wearing a simple craftsman's tools stand around the top of the stairs, the man pointing towards outside and indicates you should shield your eyes. A quick glance indicates that while it isn't a single occupancy room, it is indeed reserved for the officers of the ship.

******

A cool sea breeze goes over the ship, as the cries of gulls greet your ears. As you look around, you realize that you are out at sea, with the day burning into midmorning. Looking out past the stern, land is becoming an ochre haze, one that is quickly becoming a memory.

As you spread out from the officer quarters, you realize there are more crew here, some working as riggers, others as swabs, though all take a moment to see the new recruits. From the stern, two more sailors are on it, though from their composure as well attire indicates they are officers.

Before you can get more of a look, the man with the scourge appears, followed by two of his henchmen as they are half-dragging, half-hauling a dwarf. "For those of you who are not familliar," the man says as he steps off to the side, crossing his arms, "let me introduce myself: my name is Master Scourge. I am the boatswain, master-at-arms, and disciplinarian of the Wormwood."

Slowly, Master Scourge walks around, looking at each of the new recruits. "For those who become swabs, I will be in charge of you," he says, stopping at one of the sailors, a human male with a blue bandanna, before turning and places his hand on his hips. "However, some of you, like this ground digger" Master Scourge says, indicating Rugnar, "aren't fit to swab the docks of Port Peril. I intend to rectify that in the most severe way."

Nodding at the two holding Rugnar, the sailors take him to the mainmast, where two more of the party who went down to greet the new recruits take off Rugnar's shirt and tie the dwarf to the mast. Once tied, the four sailors step back.

IRollTwenties

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Master Scourge's Attacks with the whip (1s are a fumble; ignore damage)
Attack (1d20+6)[23] for (1d3+2)[4] non-lethal damage
Attack (1d20+6)[7] for (1d3+2)[3] non-lethal damage
Attack (1d20+6)[24] for (1d3+2)[5] non-lethal damage

(OOC: Master Scourge takes his time, going for more showmanship than anything. He will take a minute or so between each attack. Except for IRollTwenties, all other players may discuss and share information.)

IRollTwenties

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(OOC: During this time you may try to roleplay his out how you see fit. Be mindful, though, you are out numbered and a out weaponed. My apologies for singling you out if you feel this is unfair.)

[SanguinePenguin]

At the display, Varya mutters under her breath, "Desna escort me..." Her eyes and thoughts turn back to the haze on the horizon from whence they came. She distances herself for a moment in thought. Ultimately, she concludes that she lost very little. Her bow was of value, but she has dried up her liquid assets. She needed to catch a boat anyway. Perhaps this sojourn shall garner the riches she seeks. A sly smirk graces her face for but a moment before she wills it away.

This "Master Scourge" seems a base, blustering buffoon in Varya's eyes - however, he is in charge. Follow the rules for now, she decides - at the very least, some of these pirate types are bound to be a laugh. While avoiding drawing Scourge's attention, she speaks loudly enough that those nearby her can hear, "anyone know the Wormwood's course? Where we're headed?"

[HuskyBoi]

Harold does not like his surroundings, not one bit, and flinches with every lash of the whip to the dwarf. This is terrible... I can't believe what's going on. This shouldn't be happening! Aren't I supposed to be a hero now? He tries to hide the tremble in his voice and the shaking in his legs, and steps forwards to address Master Scourge:

"Stop it! Leave him alone!"

He suspects this may not have been a great idea.

[Rhyvurg]

Gareth takes this all in silently, the hulkling human's fists like scarred clubs as he fights the urge to attack his captors and demand to be returned to port. He even gives the scowling peglegged woman a wink as he passes, it would take more than these filthy scum to cow him. But when the smaller man speaks up during the flogging, Gareth elbows him back. "Shut up or you'll feel that lash yourself you fool!"

[Archpaladin Zousha]

The Qadiran winces as the man screams and reaches for her. Tar and feathers generally weren't something people wore, though, nor were people chained up like that without reason.

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Sense Motive: (1d20)[3], I can't WAIT to get to 2nd level when I can use my Perform (Oratory) check instead.
Alchemy: (1d20+1)[12]
Knowledge (nature): (1d20+2)[13]

When Harold attempts to stop Master Scourge and Gareth pulls him back, The Qadiran assists in keeping Harold quiet.

"To be angry is easy," she hisses in Harold's ear.

"But to be angry at the right time, at the right people...for the right reasons...that takes work. Keep your anger ready for when it's right. Who knows, maybe the Captain will be more sympathetic and break this up?"

[SanguinePenguin]

Varya doesn't bother trying to stop Harold. She simply says softly, "something tells me this is the norm around here. He likely wouldn't be Boatswain Scourge if the Captain disapproved of his disciplinary ideals."

[Sarone]

Archpaladin

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Despite, or because of, his attempt to intimidate you, you notice the man is both slow as well as not very bright. You also see he is blind in his left eye. If someone was to face him in battle, attacking from that side will help dodge attacks from him.

Seeing the young man try to stop it, Ezekial helps out as well, placing a hand on the man's right shoulder and gently pulling him back. "Easy, my good man," Ezekial says, leaning forward so the man can hear him, as well as the few near him, keeping his eyes on Master Scourge and the dwarf, "these pirates captured us and made hate to leave Port Peril. The fact that they used oil of taggit suggests they are not above using such poisons against us. Best to abide our time and learn more."

Releasing the man, Ezekial looks on, crossing his arms in an attempt to hold himself from doing what the man was doing. A motley crew, by the looks of it, he thinks to himself as Master Scourge makes his first strike, but one that can be a handful.

Putting out his right hand at the would be rescuer and those around him, Ezekial quickly introduces himself. "My name is Ezekial Somrivatram, late of Andoran. Doctor, researcher, alchemist, and cook when I'm doing the former."

Nodding to the female half-elf and the muscular human and giving a raised eyebrow to the auburn haired human, Ezekial gives an attempt to carry a conversation with the group while keeping his eyes on the punishment. "From the sounds of it, you two have been through this or heard of this happening before. It would look like we may need to work together if we are to survive this."

*****

Satisfied at his first strike, Master Scourge slowly stalks around the dwarf, trying his best to emulate a jungle predator. A few sailors, mostly those from the welcoming commitee, cheer at the punishment, while one of the sailors on the stern is leaning on the rail, watching both the punishment and the crew. The other sailor stands with his arms crossed, clearly not impressed by the showmanship, but not moving to stop it either.

[SanguinePenguin]

The magus replies curtly to the alchemist - wincing momentarily as the Boatswain delivers another lashing, "Varya. Yes, I think the lot of us who've been shanghaied will fair better if we cooperate."

[HuskyBoi]

Harold steps back, restrained by the other. Probably for the best.

"I'm Harold. Harold Turnboot. Do you think we can get off here, if we work together? Where is our equipment? And where did you all come from?"

[King Tius]

The white-haired elf stands amid the new arrivals looking up at the rigging, rather than at the man being lashed. His eyes squint against the light as he scans the billowing sails and crisscrossed ropes, looking for something in particular. After a moment his face lights up as he seems to find what he was looking for and he hurriedly puts his fingers into his mouth and lets out a short, sharp whistle.

A response comes from the upper rigging, not a whistle, but a panicked chirp. Out of the sails a tiny ball of feathers plummets to the deck and lands (somewhat ungracefully) on the elf's shoulder. What appears to be a rather plump Thrush quickly preens its disheveled feathers back in to place and begins to titter into the elf's ear.

The elf responds out loud in Elvish.

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"There you are, Thimble! Looks like we're in quite a pickle, here. Have the gulls been giving you trouble again? Point them out and I'll make them think twice about it. Best stay close until we have a better lay of the land. This is a nasty lot on board, but the others that got dragged on seem decent enough."

Suddenly realizing that he was talking to a bird on his shoulder (and how strange that might seem to some) he looks about and smiles meekly at those around him, though he quickly dismisses the smile to avoid drawing attention from the other sailors.

"Binderal, pleasure to meet you. I'm from Port Peril, I suppose, but I prefer volunteering for duty as opposed to being drugged. Any idea who the Captain is around here?"

[Archpaladin Zousha]

"I'm a Qadiran," says the Qadiran.

[Rhyvurg]

The large man crosses his arms over his barrel-like chest. "Gareth. Anyone ever tell these guys it's a really stupid idea to take people ruled by fear into a fight?"

[Morbis Meh]

Cas looks away from the gruesome display and lets out a low whistle as the lash bites into the flesh. Oh pirates and their love of torture... Oh well lady luck is still smiling at me since that's not me tied to the mast. When the others begin speaking and introducing herself she ponders on whether to follow suit or lie about her identity. Since she figured that she would be on this ship for awhile she might as well garner some advantage even if was only the rag tag bunch of bilge rats. "People call me Lucky Cas, don't know if it is meant to be a joke or a compliment... Just call me Cas or lucky just not late for dinner!"

[Sarone]

Shrugging, Ezekial shakes any hands offered, then looks at Gareth. "Simply put, it means they are either stupid or more than confident in their abilities."

At Ezekial's words, Master Scourge tries to put more showmanship into the strike, but misses Rugnar by inches. This brought a chuckle from a few o the sailors within earshot of party, though far enough away that they don't draw his attention. "I'll leave it to you all to decide which," Ezekial says.

Snarling, Master Scourge strikes again, leaving another welt across the drawf's back. Satisfied he hit, Master Scourge looks over at the two figures near the stern of the ship, the one standing shaking his head. With a sigh, Master Scourge looks at the half-orc and , nodding at them as he strats winding up his namesake.

Returning the nod, the two sailors go over to the dwarf, releasing the dwarf from his bonds.

"As you see, punishment will be dealt with, swiftly and harshly," Master Scourge says, throwing an atttempt at a grin at the thought. "Now then, move out."

It doesn't take long for the group to make it across the deck of the ship, Master Scourge leading themwith his helpers around him.

The Ship

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The Wormwood is a three-masted sailing ship, 100 feet from stem to stern and 30 feet wide. There are multiple decks and in addition to the mainmast coming up from the main deck, two more masts, one coming up out of the foredeck (you exited the holds and officer quarters from this part) and the other coming up out of the poop deck.

As you get closer to rear of the ship, or 'poop deck', you noticed that the man standing is a tall and heavily muscular Vudranni man, his beard bound with gold rings and an eyepatch over his left eye. A permenant scowl is on his face, though whether it is from the weather, the crew, or something else, you don't know immediately. Once you are within earshot, he speaks out, eyeing each person as he speaks.

"Glad you could join at last," the man says, before smirking at Master Scourge and Rugnar. "Welcome to the Wormwood! My thanks for 'volunteering to join my crew. I'm Barnabas Harrigan. That's Cpatain 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, among others, and we'll all get along fine."

Taking a minute to make sure his point is has been recieved. "Another thing; even with lot, we're still short handed, and I aim to keep what crew I have. There'll be a keelhaulin' for anyone caught killin' anyone." Giving a hard stare, especially to Gareth and Rugnar among others, before turning to the man leaning against the rail. "Mr. Plugg! 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." With that said, Captain Harrigan turns and heads to the stern of the ship.

The other man, leaning against the rail, is the larger man's opposite; shorter, thinner, with his most of his hair gone except for a ponytail, and wearing a blue overcoat. As he stands up, he adjusts his coat, before starting to to walk back and forht on the poop deck.

"Alright, scum," Mr. Plugg says, leering down at the group, his hands behind him, "I don't care what did before today. It doesn't matter. What matters is right now." Bring his arms to his sides, Mr. Plugg points up at the crows nest on the mainmast. First test is as such: you will climb the rigging to the crow's nest. Do not fail me."

With that, Mr. Plugg nods to Master Scourge, who in turns nods back and smiles at the group. "Don't keep Mr. Plugg waiting."

Rigging Climbing

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Each PC needs to roll several climb checks. The distance being climbed is 60 feet. You can either go for a quarter speed climb or try and go faster by going for an accelerated climb (going half speed). There are enough rope that you will be able to keep yourself from falling.

Standard DC is 10; Accelerated Climb puts a -5 to your check (basically DC 15)

At minimum I'll need 4 rolls from each player.

Ezekial's rolls (basic rolls at 1/4 speed (7.5 feet))
(1d20+1)[11]
(1d20+1)[6]
(1d20+1)[19]
(1d20+1)[17]

(1d20+1)[9]
(1d20+1)[16]
(1d20+1)[10]
(1d20+1)[6]

[HuskyBoi]

Harold smiles to himself for the first time. He might not be tough or fierce like these other pirates, but he's strong and fast and can climb well. He decides to clamber up as fast as possible, in the hope of getting out of trouble! (going for the accelerated climb)

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(1d20+7)[18]
(1d20+7)[13]
(1d20+7)[19]
(1d20+7)[26]

[SanguinePenguin]

"A race then!" Adopting a sneer of confidence, Varya charges the rigging. Her mother trained her to climb swiftly even when armored carrying gear - her brief excursion as a sailor familiarized her with rigging specifically. There was her desire not to be whipped and her desire to be placed in an area she excels, but foremost was her desire to win - a competition was something she loved.

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In case she knows some way to climb a bit faster up rigging
Profession(sailor): (1d20+3)[22]

Doing DC 15

Climb: (1d20+7)[19]
Climb: (1d20+7)[11]
Climb: (1d20+7)[19]
Climb: (1d20+7)[15]

Climb: (1d20+7)[21]
Climb: (1d20+7)[13]
Climb: (1d20+7)[24]
Climb: (1d20+7)[11]

[Archpaladin Zousha]

The Qadiran sighs. Her soft physique meant climbing would be a chore. She begins ascending the rigging at a steady pace, but it's evident that she won't be winning this little race.

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Going for regular climb (DC 10).

(1d20)[6]
(1d20)[2]
(1d20)[16]
(1d20)[4]

(1d20)[4]
(1d20)[11]
(1d20)[9]
(1d20)[14]

[Rhyvurg]

ignore....

[Rhyvurg]

Gareth eyes the Captain with poorly-concealed contempt, then goes to the rigging.

(1d20+7)[15]
(1d20+7)[19]
(1d20+7)[27]
(1d20+7)[20]
(1d20+7)[22]

(1d20+7)[22]
(1d20+7)[27]
(1d20+7)[14]
(1d20+7)[10]
(1d20+7)[22]

[HuskyBoi]

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(1d20+7)[17]
(1d20+7)[16]
(1d20+7)[8]
(1d20+7)[18]

[King Tius]

Binderal stares up the rigging with a bit of a dazed look on his face. "I feel like I've done this before..." He murmurs to himself. Shaking his head to clear the daze, he slowly and surely starts to climb the rigging. If he should fall, he will activate his innate Feather Fall ability. If anyone other than him should fall, he will cast his Feather Fall spell on them.

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Going for the DC: 10
(1d20-2)[12]
(1d20-2)[9]
(1d20-2)[15]
(1d20-2)[15]

(1d20-2)[10]
(1d20-2)[10]
(1d20-2)[16]
(1d20-2)[9]

[Sarone]

In the time it takes for the first few participants to reach the rigging, bets were being cast on the winners as well as how far each person would go before stopping. As you start the climb, the cheers, catcalls, and jeers erupt from various crew, taking a moment to rest and watch.

With much adulation, and one that drew more than a few scowls and curses, Gareth reaches the Crows nest first, followed closely by Varya, beating Harold out by a second, followed by Rugnar. Looking down you noticed what seems to be most, if not all the crew, standing on the deck or in the rigging.

Unfortunately, as much as those up top were cheered, the ones at the bottom were jeered at for their lack of climbing skills. Whether unable to grasp the next rope up or failing to gain a footing, Ezekial, Binderal, Lucky Cas, and the Qadiran couldn't get more than half way up, trying to ensure they had a footing as they went.

"If you would be so kind," Mr. Plugg yells up at the four struggling recruits, "you can stop with you failing attempts at trying to climb."

Though it takes a few minutes for the winners to get back down, a quick glance at the bridge indicates Mr. Plugg and Master Scourge chatting and gesturing with each other, while the man with the bloody apron stands off to the side, not quite part of the conversation but not excluded either.

Once all participants are on the deck, Master Scourge indicates to assmble before the bridge. "Alright, seems we have worthwhile recruits here," Mr. Plugg says, smiling at the four who made it to the crows nest. "However, only two will be the new riggers."

Casually, Mr. Plugg points at Gareth and Varya. "As of now and until I see fit, you two will be working for me as riggers." Nodding to Master Scourge, Mr. Pluggs waits for tthe two to move off to the side before looking at the rest, his gaze hardening at the those who didn't climb so well.

"As for the rest of you, I pray the following task is simplistic enough for you to handle." Clearing his throat, Mr. Plugg throws a disdainful gaze at the overwieght man in the bloody apron before looking at the recruits. "Unfortunately, the last assistant we had died unexpectedly. The question is; who here can, or at least able, to cook?"


OOC:

Spoiler

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Any one (besides Sanguine and Rhyvurg) who feels their character can cook can volunteer.

Also, I need each person to roll a 1d20, a 1d3, and three d100 either here or in the OOC. For the 100s, please indicate which order you would prefer them. In the case of doubles, you can +/- 5 from the result.

[Archpaladin Zousha]

"I have many talents, Master Scourge. In addition to a competent sailor, I am a teller of stories, a weaver of dreams. I can dance the sword dances of Qadira, tell the old pirate tales of the Shackles and in the right weather, I can stand on my head for an hour. I know a bit of magic and a trick or two. I can cook in a pinch, but if someone else knows how to do it better, I certainly won't get in their way.

OOC:

Spoiler

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(1d20)[6]
(1d3)[2]
(1d100)[55]
(1d100)[92]
(1d100)[91]

Perception: (1d20+6)[19]