New World IC, Group 1

[stack]

Hearing Genevieve's plan, Jon nods, "If anyone can speak their language, kindly reassure him that I'm trying to help." Rather not get stabbed for my trouble. He then undoes his belt, handing it to her, complete with weapons, before shedding his armor and tieing the rope securely around his waist and jumping overboard.

The cold water slaps him in the face, driving away any thought of sleep that had crept back after the fight. Seas aren't too bad, shouldn't be a problem.

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checks if needed,
swim (1d20)[1] (if he can't take 10)
strength(1d20)[11]
any other(1d20)[17] plus appropriate bonus

[ZeltArruin]

"I get the feelin this isn't gonna be worth the trouble..." Huril thinks aloud as he moves over to help pull Jon back aboard the ship. He wasn't a strong man, but he might as well help, it was an old habit of his he found to be too hard to break.

[Lost Demiurge]

The one-eyed woman snorts at Jon's flailing. I knew this would be fun to watch... Nonetheless she pulls at the rope, doing her part to keep him afloat.

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Assisting the swim roll with mah strength check... (1d20+1)[5]

It's harder than she thought, and she swears like a sailor as the rope twists in her hands. "Gods, the sharks want that skraeling alright..."

[ZeltArruin]

Huril leaned into it too, adding his weight to the effort, if nothing else. It wouldn't do well to lose someone to the waters when they were so close to their goal.

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strength check: (12d0)[12]

[Bhaakon]

The holy shootist flails around in the water for some minutes before reaching the skraeling, avoiding drowning only through the efforts of those on the other end of his line. The injured man gives Jon a surprised stare, and hesitates briefly before taking the offered hand. The combined efforts of the other group members and a few sailors quickly have the bedraggled pair on board.

The skraeling is obviously in a bad way, coughing up water mixed with blood. He tries to say something, but chokes on the words.

As this is happening the Captain emerges from below decks, yawning rather sheepishly. Seeing the skraeling, he hustles over, "Oi, tie this man up and call the saw-bones. If he lives, we'll get a decent price for em in Anchor's End." The Captain then mutters something towards the dying man in language you can't identify.

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OOC: Unfortunately Mika can't just spam the wand, since a natural 1 on the check means she can't try gain for 24 hours

[stack]

Jon stands up, brushing off what water he can, before turning to the man he rescued. His hands glow faintly as he reaches out to touch the wounds that Jon himself had inflicted.

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lay hands (1d6)[6]

Seeing the wounds close somewhat, he reclaims his belt and turns to the captain as he buckles it. "A decent price? Are you suggesting we sell this man into slavery?" Just what goes on in this colony?

[Bhaakon]

"How do ye think I bought me boat? Used to be we'd ship 'em back to Cheliax, but these days the mining companies of Anchor's End will pay more than any petty lord back home. No sane free man would work the guano caves, nor tamp powder for the hard-rock mines."

The moderately rejuvenated skraeling seems to realize the Captain's plans, probably from the earlier muttering. He bolts for the bow, gambling his life on swimming to shore. He makes it three steps before Chew flattens him with a flying tackle.

[Kon Lesh]

As Mika covers her mouth she gives out a small moan. Then looking at the wand she begins to hit it with an open palm. She does not seem to notice anything else happening around her."Not now. Come on. Work."

[Lost Demiurge]

A clattering of gold pieces as Genevieve casts 5 coins in front of Chew.

"There. That's passage for our new cargo then. As the passengers had to guard this here boat, spend shot and blood in the attack, and subdued this skraeling, he's ours to sell or do with what we see fit."

She walks over and jerks him to his feet, ignoring the rest of the crew.

Her one eye gazes evenly at Chew, and she rests a hand near her rightmost pepperboxes' butt.

"I trust you got no objection to that."

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If it's needed, an intimidate roll. [roll]1d20+[/roll]

[Bhaakon]

The big half-orc matches the little cavalier glare for glare in a standoff that grows in intensity as it drags on. The first mate's hand inches towards a crook-bladed knife knife in his belt, nearly grasping the hilt when the captain's hand closes on the massive man's shoulder.

"Aye, yer fight, yer booty." He bends down and picks up the gold, "but it's also on yer head if causes trouble on me boat." He walks over the decapitated Barbarian and kicks the bronze sword in Genevieve's direction, "here, take this trinket as well. Ne'er heard of no savage with a metal blade before, save the steel they get trading with us."

[ZeltArruin]

Huril found nothing to wipe his sword on, and sighed as he used his pant leg to do so. From the stains they had, he either was wounded often, or used them as a rag all too much.
"Yer takin' it? Why would you bring the extra work for yerself?" Huril asked the one eyed woman, his eyes going between the patch and her good eye.

[stack]

Jon's face turns red as he stands in mute rage until his fury spills out, not with a roar, but a whisper. "Captain. Before you stands a son of Andoran, born free. A paladin called of Erastil. And a man escaped from Chelaxian chains, placed on him as they burned his home and murdered his father. You will take no payment and place no hold on this man or any other while I am here. If I had known of your...activities...an hour ago, i may have thought the better of saving you. I withhold from no man the right to strike at any who sell men into chains."

His hand rests on his pistol. "I trust neither you nor your men to act faithfully. Either let this man goes free now, unhindered, or you arm yourself. You wouldn't be the first man I've taken with my blade this night."

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intimidate, if needed (1d20+8)[9]

[Lost Demiurge]

Genevieve scoops up the sword, tucks it into her belt, and leads the captive over to Jon as she rolls her eye.

"Don't worry about drama-boy. I'll set him straight, captain."

She sets her other hand on his arm, and nods Huril closer. In a low voice pitched to avoid the crew's hearing, she explains.

"I bought the rights to 'im so we can set him free once we hit shore and get to the treeline. Don't get me wrong, I don't care about this mess of a raider one way or the other... But I'll be damned before I let my name be associated with slavery." She spits.

She looks around at the other passengers. "Don't suppose any o' you lot speaks Skraeling tongue?"

[Bhaakon]

The Captain coolly appraises Jon, hands resting on his cutlass and dagger, "I don't care if yer an Andoran or the damned heir to Asmodeus, you'll not tell me how to run my ship. She mixed reason with her hot words, while ye be offerin' not but bluster and sanctimony. I've already released me claim to the brute, so ye can take it up with her or ye can walk to Anchor's End. I'll forget yer outburst on account of yer actions tonight and because of yer friend's words, but I'll not extend that courtesy agin."


Pointedly turning from the paladin, he speaks to Genevieve, "He's your to do what you wish, it's no matter to me if ye be wanted to throw good gold away. But it if that's yer preference, then throw another five gold chits my way and I'll see what I may translate."

[Lost Demiurge]

Genevieve reaches for her coin pouch and finds it empty. She frowns, and glances at Jon.

"Oy, lad. Apologize for yerself an' pay the captain five yellows. You were ready to go stabbin' for him, you might as well put your money up to hear his words."

[stack]

Jon silently reaches into his money bag and draws out five gold, then drops the into Genevieve's hand. His other hand requires visible effort to withdraw from his weapon, trembling slightly as he does so. His cold eyes never leave the captain. This isn't over.

[Lost Demiurge]

Genevieve passes the money over to the captain. "Ask'em why he was raiding us, where he got the sword, and if he knows any reason he should not be sold into slavery."

[ZeltArruin]

Huril watches the exchange between the paladin and the captain, stepping back from both, just in case things went to violence. Thankfully they didn't, but Jon was going to have to get off of this boat soon, or tempers were going to flare up again. "Easy there Jon, when we hit port, I'll spot you a drink and we can hunt down some slavers there. It'll be fun times all around, whaddaya say?" Huril said quietly to the paladin as he put a hand on his shoulder, though he did not speak so quietly that others wouldn't hear him.

[Starbuck_II]

Toot right, Jon, we will show some slavers the error of their ways one way or another. Tyr whispered toward Jon hoping to bring Jon back to his regular self and not get mopey.
Tyr thought a second and said out loud:
Also, ask if he knows if we might be raided again by his group. That might help preparation.

[Bhaakon]

The Captain strides over the skraeling, now hemmed in by other crewmembers to prevent his escape. Now that you have time to notice, the man is obviously malnourished as well as injured; not the point of eminent death, but his ribs and joints are clearly visible under tautly drawn skin. The captain and the skraeling talk in a sing-song language for a few moments before the old seaman waddles back.


"'E says that they came to the ship to take our food, and that our shore party took a boar out of one of their dead-falls. The twelve of 'em are out of a settlement a week or more to the southwest, but hunters from the mines have picked the land there clean." The Captain absentmindedly scratches his scraggly beard, "as fer the blade, he says the big guy got it somewhere far to the west, over the mountains. Said he was gone for three years, and had it when he came back."

[Kon Lesh]

Mika has given up on working with the wand and decided to join the group. She whispers "Poor people." Then louder for the whole group to hear "Bronze from the west? What nation is past the mountains?"

[Bhaakon]

"I only know the coast, haven't heard o' nothing inland" The captain answers offhandedly. He returns to the skraeling for more information, but the injured man's reply is curt, he punctuates it with a animated hand gesture and sends a load of spittle flying towards the deck.

"'E says its taboo even to speak of the land beyond the mountains. The barbarian was sent there on some sort o' quest or exile fer murderin' a fellow. He's the only man from the tribe to return from there alive, and would only speak of it to the shaman-chief."

[stack]

Jon breathes out slowly, the discussion of the man's story breaking his deadly focus. As his muscles un-tense, he notices Mika's wounds. "Hold still, I can help."

Again his hands glow soft and warm as he touches her wound.

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lay hands (1d6)[3]

"Is that sufficient, or are your wounds still troubling you?"

Looking back to the captive,
"I have no questions for him now."

[Kon Lesh]

"Thank you Jon, I feel much better. But a bit of rest might be for the best. If there is nothing else, I think that I shall go down to rest some. And he will be taken care of, right?" pointing to the Skraeling.

[stack]

Jon withdraws his hands. "He will be taken care of, rest. You handled your part admirably." He turns his healing hands to Tyr, repeating his performance.

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lay hands (1d6)[3]

Then, whispering to Genevieve, "Perhaps it would be better to send him back now on his canoe? No 'confusion' during the night, no deliberate mistranslations."

[Lost Demiurge]

Genevieve tilts her head as she considers. "Yeah, that works."
She measures the distance to the canoe, then looks at the Skraeling. Yeah, he's looking good enough to swim. No sharks yet, either.

"Thanks, captain. Tell him that he can go back and tell his tribe, raiding this ship is death. And that next time no one will return."

Once that's done, she grabs the skraeling's arm, hauls him over to the side of the ship with the canoe, and kicks his rump, knocking him into the ocean.

[Bhaakon]

The skraeling hits the water belly-first after his unceremonious ouster, but wastes no time in scrambling aboard a canoe and rowing towards shore. The Captain watches the little boat go, sighs, then turns his frustration on the crew. "Swab that blood, ye curs! Git off yer arse and clear the hooks out o' the riggin'! Chew, motivate the boys; I want to be ridin' out on the dawn tide."

Many sailor still drag under the weight of the previous night's excesses, but the Captain just rides the stragglers all the harder. The first mate produces a short whip from a storage locker and walks about the deck cracking it over the heads of slow workers.

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unless there's something else you want to do now, you can return to your cabin to rest and I'll advance to port

[Lost Demiurge]

Genevieve yawns. "I'll be in my bunk." She heads that way and sleeps the sleep of the dog-tired.

[stack]

"As will I, unless anyone else needs healing"

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lay hands (1d6)[2] for anyone who needs it

He picks-up his armor and heads below.
Restful night. Hopefully I won't get a dagger for my trouble.

[ZeltArruin]

"Generally I don't like the touch of holy men, but I think I can stand it this time," Huril says after receiving the paladin's healing. All he wanted to do now was sleep, and no sooner than he dropped into his hammock was he out like a light.