Way of the Wicked [IC Thread]

[Geckus]

For most of the trip, Verrin has sat quietly by the cargo, apparently watching the scenery flow by. In reality, he was more focused on allowing his newly discovered powers to wash over the captain and crew, getting a feel for their emotions as they react to passing farmers and fishers, the vagueries of the rivers and ocean, and their passengers.

Know your enemy and your ally, for which is which can shift with the tide.

The snap of the Captain's works as he reacts to Acheron's staring draws Verrin's immediate attention, and he focuses his power towards his half-orc comrade as he rises, projecting his voice directly to Acheron's mind.

Acheron, you counseled me against picking fights not so long ago, so stop baiting the man. You know we need his good will for now.

Stepping up beside the witch doctor, he lays a companionable hand on his shoulder.

"Would you mind seeing if Grumblejack is settled in comfortably? The swells will get worse now that we're ocean going."

Spoiler

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Using the Empathy talent on an ongoing basis to get a general feel for the crew and captains reactions, so it might be easier to spot if those reactions are different later.

Paying 1 power point to activate Missive while Empathy is active.

[darklink_shadow]

Acheron grunted and stood, going back to see his giant friend. How do you hold up, riding this rocky and rickety piece of wood, my friend? Of course, Acheron once again speaks in giant, his now preferenced tongue.

[Cyclopean]

Odenkirk scowls, and returns to directing the crew. From his observations, Odenkirk appears to be an angry man, disdain and frustration frequently flashing across his mind. More rarely, Verrin is able to glimpse what appear pulses of warm affection. The crew prove more difficult to generalize about; by and large, they work too hard to feel any emotion particularly strongly.

"I don't feel well at all," Grumblejack moans back to Acheron. Though the Frosthamar is a fine vessel, it was not built with comfort in mind. There are no cabins or even proper beds; captain, crew, and guards all sleep together under the stars. There are no garderobes or chamber pots, and rations consist mainly of hardtack and small beer. Grumblejack is used to eating and sleeping rough, but the ogre struggles with seasickness during the first few days of your voyage. Even after his stomach settles and he begins to get his sea legs, Grumblejack seems to prefer lying down as much as possible. Fortunately, this makes his massive figure less conspicuous to passing fishers.

[Frosty]

Kayle grunts as she agrees with the fact that with this much steel and weaponry, patrols will get suspicious regardless. She was about to leave when Acheron got called a bastard. Her eyes narrowing a bit, she steps back up to the captain. "Captain Odenkirk, that 'bastard' is my friend, and someone that is willing to protect this ship with his life. Think twice before calling him that again." With that, she steps away, and goes to chat with Verrin. "So, what's our plan if we get inspected by a patrol? Hey, we still have the late Sir Balin's armor right?"

[Geckus]

Verrin hides a smile as Acheron acts on his suggestion, feeling slightly relieved that the half-orc hadn't chosen to take his words wrongly. He didn't particularly care much about the ogre's well-being, but the witch doctor seemed to think of him as a kindred soul, so hopefully he would not begrudge the small manipulation of using Grumblejack's discomfort as an excuse to separate him from the captain.

As Kayle asks her questions, Verrin takes a seat on the shoreward side of the ship, to better keep an eye on the coast as they talk.

By the Lord's forked tongue, was I supposed to come up with a boarding plan?!?

After feigning a cough to buy a few seconds to think, he replies, "I think the armor is back at the manor, Kayle, unless you packed it along with your supplies. As for dealing with a patrol..." Verrin taps his fingers against the gunwale for a moment. "Well, if the captain decides that he can't evade a ship, we'll have to kill them to a man. If a patrolling boat gets away with a report on us, it would make our follow-up job much more difficult, perhaps even impossible. It would be best let them pull alongside so we can get to grips with them rather than try to trade arrow fire; easier to prevent them breaking off and suits our strengths more. Let them board to inspect the cargo...no way we can hide that or talk our way out once they see what it is...have to hide Grumbles somehow...maybe a tarp...not sure about that."

[BananaPhone]

"Evading a patrol?" Oxana perked up from behind the talking members of the Knot, "evasion won't be necessary. Why would we need to out-run a patrol when we are carrying a shipment of weapons and armor to Tower Balentyne? Our task is clandestine in nature because we do not want to draw the attention of would-be pirates that would make an attempt on such a valuable cargo. We put faith in the deterrent of the grim-visaged guards we have hired for the boat," she gestured to the captain and his bearded crew, "but one cannot be too careful when keeping so many bladed weapons out of the hands of miscreants."

The half-elf spoke as if rehearsing a fake story so that she'd get the gist of what she was suggesting.

[Frosty]

At the half-elf's participation in the conversation, the aasimar nods thoughtfully. "I think we did pack it. Our benefactor also returned to us Sir Balin's holy symbol. With the right...disguise...as Oxana said, we can be VERY convincing with the right story. Sir Balin is personally supervising a weapons shipment for Balentyne or perhaps some clandestine operation against the bugbears. Now the question is...who should play Sir Balin?"

[Geckus]

"I'm fairly certain I'm the closest fit for that, Kayle, but it would take some serious convincing for me to strap into that weight of unfamiliar metal while ocean-borne."

Turning to face the newest member of their Knot after she spins an at least semi-plausible tale, Verrin considers the possibility before shaking his head.

"An interesting option Oxana, but there are definite problems with it, even presuming we could convince a patrol ship's master that we spoke the truth." Verrin had deep seated doubts regarding even that, what with the presence of the ogre, the markings on the cargo, and the lack of any sort of backing documents or signets. "If we did manage to sell that story, they would still be obligated to report the contact when they return to port, and we could not guarantee when that would be. And any report of our activity or presence would hamper our ability to operate. Cunningly spoken words have their place and their uses, but so do blades, and I still think that would be one of the latter."

[darklink_shadow]

Acheron made a small amused noise. Fire has its uses. Ironically, even surrounded by water, wooden boat burn.

[Cyclopean]

The next week passes quietly--as Odenkirk promised, you steer far enough away from Daveryn that there's hardly any sign that you've passed the greatest city on Talingarde's eastern coast. Not long after that, it seems you are leaving civilization itself entirely, as the sight of farms and fishers grows rarer by the day.

You are just south of the Watch Wall when Oxana's vigilance pays off. Her keen half-elven eyes spot a sail bearing down on you from the south. The ship has clearly spotted you, and will be upon you in no less than ten minutes. It seems the patrol boat you've spent the last week discussing is finally here.

[Frosty]

"Quick! We need to hide Grumblejack temporarily. Perhaps inside one of the crates? He can burst out in a surprise attack..."

[Geckus]

"No, the crates are too small, Kayle...maybe under a tarp. But give it a moment, they'll likely have an eyeglass on us for the first while; don't draw attention to Grumblejack and they might miss him at this distance."

Verrin stares into the distance, trying to make out what emblems are flying from the mast, but knowing that the ship will have to get a lot closer before he can be sure.

"Captain, how do you want to handle this? Your ship, your rules."

[darklink_shadow]

Acheron crossed his arms and spat into the ocean. Well, this is what I'm paid to help with, right? What'll be captain? Murder the crew and burn their ship? Murder the ship and burn the crew? Murder the crew and then eat them? Once more, Acheron's face was covered by his mask, but he made his lips smack loud enough, it was obvious he favored last option.

[Cyclopean]

Odenkirk grimaces. "Well, she's seen us, sure as damnation. And I don't need to tell you we can't outrun them with the Frosthamar loaded as heavily as she is." He shrugs. "One look at our cargo, and they'll know us for the weapon smugglers we are. We'll have to let them board and search us, though. Might as well put off the arrow fire for as long as possible, eh?" It's clear that Kargeld Odenkirk, at least, doesn't have much faith in any of your schemes that end without bloodshed.

With Acheron's comments, he frowns slightly and casts another glance at the rapidly approaching sail. "Probably a fine boat. Seems a waste to just burn it. And I can't say I much care if you defile the bodies of the enemy, but nobody's eating anybody on my boat," he says, not bothering to veil his disgust.

[darklink_shadow]

The sail will burn quickly, soft and tender, but the wood will prevail much longer, standing staunch against its torture while the flames writhe with sadistic delight. Unless the good captain wishes to begain his own fleet of illegally stolen vessels? I'm sure nobody will recognized it after you've stolen it, and gut you for the murders we're about to commit. Acheron's sarcasm was dry, as humorless as much dark humor is. As for denying me delicacy... once they are dead, they are nothing more than meat and bones, food and tools. It'd be a great shame to waste those resources. Oh well. I'm being paid enough to escort these blades that I can buy myself a feast when I return to home.

[JonRG]

Kles tucked his now-sharpened blade into his belt and stretched his tight muscles. If there were to be a fight, he would be ready. As an afterthought, he also activates the iron circlet Thorn gifted him to resemble a nondescript human man.

[BananaPhone]

"I have already suggested a way in which patrols could be persuaded to go about their way," Oxana spoke up, having remained characteristically quiet this whole time.

"Who is carrying the pedant that...man was carrying?" she asked the collection of her compatriots, "It may come in handy as a prop for a deception."

Using her circlet, the priestess changed her attire to one that was more befitting: an armored soldier but with the a white and blue tabard beneath their gear.

[darklink_shadow]

Acheron noted the change in appearance in both his friend, and the priest, and rummaged through his bag for his circlet. The magic of the device transformed his apperance, making him looks like a haughty human, with fancy, but not really regal attire.

[JonRG]

Kles withdrew the amulet from his belt. "Try it, if you like. I want that back though."

[Geckus]

Verrin tapped his fingers on the rail, frowning as he watched the approaching vessel.

"If you want to ignore the reasons that's a bad idea, then so be it. But it's on your head when it comes back to bite us."

He briefly contemplated simply forcing their hand once the boarding took place, but couldn't shake the deeply set instinct to follow along regardless of his misgivings.

The compact requires me to support my fellows...perhaps I am worrying too much on what MAY come to pass.

Using the circlet to alter the appearance of his clothing, he slips in amongst the crew to become just another faceless sailor.

[Frosty]

Kayle uses the circlet to disguise herself as just another sailor as well. She wasn't aware of too many women in the Talirean military. The circlet also has the upside of disguising her more...angelic features while she is merged with the essence of the celestial.

[BananaPhone]

"It does not have to work flawlessly; just enough so that we can get them to walk onto the ship peaceably instead of charging over here expecting a fight," Oxana returned quietly to Verrin.

[Cyclopean]

Once Grumblejack is reluctantly concealed beneath a tarp, there is little to do but wait. You don't have to wait long. As soon as the ship is close enough, a commanding shout is heard by all aboard the Frosthamar. "This is Captain Sambryl of The Blade of St. Martius. Heave to in the name of the king!"

Captain Odenkirk, with no choice but to comply, waves his assent. Your vessel quickly slows. In a matter of minutes, the patrol boat has pulled up beside you. Captain Sambryl boards the Frosthamar, accompanied by four sailors brandishing spears. Eight men remain on The Blade. They watch intently as their captain speaks.

Sambryl glances first at Odenkirk, who is exuding surly authority, and then at Oxana, the only one present who appears anything like legitimate military authority. "Which one of you is in charge?" he demands. "I am very curious what a vessel is doing this far north, especially with a cargo so heavy."

Spoiler: OOC

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You have a moment to assert control of the situation before Kargeld speaks. As you've probably been able to gather, your good captain is not the most diplomatic of men.

[BananaPhone]

"Captain Sambryl, welcome aboard," Oxana said as she made way for the pig and his four crewmen.

"I am Abbess Stahl, dispatched by...more enlightened individuals than myself..." she withrew the Mystra pendent that the group had retrieved off of the fallen paladn and held it before Sambryl with discretion.

Holding her hands out so that it was clear she was not attempting anything, she drew herself in a little closer to the man so that she could whisper, "It might be best if our two vessels are not seen together for long. We're representing ecclesiastical authority and are bringing goods up the river to Tower Balentyne."

ooc:

Spoiler

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Diplomacy to start things off: 1d20+11=14

/sigh. Really, dice roller? The first time I need to roll for this character in months and it's a 3. **** you dice roller.

[Cyclopean]

Sambryl's eyebrows raise with suspicion. "You'll have a manifest, then? Well, let's see it."

[Frosty]

The aasimar ducks behind some crates long enough to change her appearance. She was going to imitate Oxana, but then changes her mind. Changing her appearance and garb so that it is similar to the style of what she saw Sir Balin wore (including holy symbol). That done, she comes out from behind the crate and stops behind 'Abbess Stahl' in a way that shows that she shows deference to the abbess.

"What the abbess is trying to say is that she is working with a Knight of the Alerion on a sensitive mission. There are stories of troubles brewing north, and we are trying to bolster the forces...discreetly. It appears that the abbess is not good at lying, but then, that is not the Mitran way."

Spoiler

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Bluff Check - (1d20+11)[12]
Well, looks like the dice roller wants us to do a fight I guess!

[darklink_shadow]

The regally dressed human stepped forward. Enough you babbling idiots. Even I can tell you're full of it. With clear frustration, he dismisses the others with a haughty flick of the wrist.

Captain Sambryl, was it? Look, since being anything other than would be clearly a mistake now, I will be honest. I am the son of a nobleman you won't have heard of. Our estate is meager and our honor is dull. It's been far too long since we achieved anything worth noting, and my parents are cowardly and yet still somehow vain.

I am on a quest of sorts, to make the name I inherit, when my foppish old fool of a father finally croaks, worth having. I've intercepted weapons made by savage orcs thrice over the coarse of five years. And now I am taking them, headed to the north, and I am going to rally some villagers to form a small militia, obliterate the hobgoblins, and claim their lands in the name of the Germain family. That will bring honor and prestige to my people, and more important, it will probably surprise my father so much that I did so, that the old bastard will have a stroke and keel over.

With one angry gesture at the people behind him, the nobleman continued Now these fools told me they could sneak me up north, but clearly you get what you pay for, and my funds have run pitifully low. In fact, this is a rather dangerous gambit for me. I've run my treasury into the ground funding this expedition, but when I succeed, I will name you as the governor of my lands, soon-to-be Sir Sambryl.

But stand in my way, the nobleman advanced sternly towards the captain, wielding one finger like a massive club, eyes burning with passion and sights of glory. A brief pause as he inhaled slowly, and exhaled with ragged fury.

and I will see to it that the friends I've made will make your life a political hellscape. I will not be trifled with. I will not be stopped here in the eleventh hour. I have been plotting this move for years. In this game I play, the game of honor, you win or you die. I will win here, and against the hobgoblin menace, or I will die in the attempt. More likely a political death here, or a literal death there, but no matter. Allow me to pass unhampered. I never forget a friend, but I never forgive an enemy. You have much to gain, and nothing to lose by simply never having seen this ship. Those nasty bastards, those barbaric ship-loving sneaks, got past your guard by sailing past here at night, didn't they? Even if I should fail, you can claim you know nothing of it. But if I succeed, my old friend Sambryl, whom I met once and forever trusted, will be the first to come to find when I need to appoint a governor for my new lands. And I won't be sure as to the why. Or perhaps you have a friend you'd like to get the position? No matter. Leave me be. I gamble with my life here, and you've no stake in the game save the one I give you.

[Cyclopean]

Captain Sambryl becomes more and more bewildered as he listens to each of you in turn. When Acheron finishes speaking, he holds out a hand. "Enough. I suspect we'll have to sort this out on land. Now, I'll need to take a look at your cargo." The captain and his guards proceed to the aft of the Frosthamar and fling up a tarp. To their surprise, they uncover a queasy-looking ogre with a runic F branded into his forearm. Sambryl cries, "By the power vested in me by the noble House Darius, for the crimes of harboring a fugitive from justice and arms smuggling, I place all of you under arrest!" Odenkirk sighs, and pulls out his greataxe.

Spoiler: OOC

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Many apologies for the long delay. It is now time to roll initiative. As a reminder, the Frosthamar has been boarded by Captain Sambryl and his two spear-wielding guards. There are several archers aboard The Blade of Saint Martius, which is connected to you by a gangplank.

Spoiler: Initiative

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Acheron: (1d20)[1]
Kayle: (1d20+1)[12]
Kles: (1d20+5)[18]
Oxana: (1d20+2)[18]
Verrin: (1d20)[16]

Grumblejack: (1d20-1)[8]

Odenkirk: (1d20)[12]
Frosthamar Sailors (6): (1d20)[6]

Sambryl: (1d20)[17]
Blade Sailors: (1d20+1)[5]

So, it looks like for Round 0, we have Kayle, Kles, Oxana, and Verrin, then the NPCs, and then Acheron will takes us into Round 1.

[Geckus]

Verrin hides a grimace as Sambryl and his men approach the cargo, and the concealed Grumblejack.

Blades it is then.

Waiting until they raise the tarp, he takes advantage of the moment their attention is focused on the ogre to summon his blade and attack, hoping to quickly kill or cripple one the spearmen.

"I believe we shall decline the honor of being arrested, Captain."

Spoiler

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Attack: (1d20+11)[14]
Damage: (1d8+8)[15]

[Cyclopean]

Verrin runs through one of the spearmen with his sword. He collapses in a bloody heap.