3SC's Skull & Shackles IC

[3SecondCultist]

In response to Petaba's question, Cusswell points at a lean half-orc woman bristling with weapons staring out over the other side of the main deck. "That's the sea bitch, over there. She don't much like me, but I'm sure you're a sweet talking f!cker, aren't you? You'll do fine." That done, the foul-mouthed halfling returns to what food and drink she has left, evidently done with the conversation but watching you out of the corner of her eye. She seems a bit too careful about the kind of impression she's making to be as tough as she appears.

Meanwhile, the crowd only grows around the barrel as Hiss and Jape face off. Grasping arms over of barrel of sharp objects, the pair of pirates flex their hardest as each tries to overpower the other. Their arms are a testament to their strength, but it would seem as though the half-orc has the upper hand. That is, until Hiss lets out his namesake, shaking Jape's resolve and wavering his grip. It would seem that it was just enough of a difference, as Hiss is able to push Jape's arm down into the waiting field of glass and metal. The half-orc lets out a howl of pain, as he nurses his bleeding arm and walks away, glaring at Hiss the whole time he does so.

It takes some time, but eventually the rest of the Wormwood pirates retire for the evening, heading down to set up their hammocks on the lower deck and leaving a skeleton crew behind for the night watch. Besides them, only the card players remain. Grok leaves early, citing the grog and her exhaustion, but Kroop stays up with Catrina and Thysh for at least a dozen more rounds, laughing all the while. It's plainly obvious that letting him win at something has cheered him up, and by the time Fishguts turns in, he does so with an easy grin and a pat on the back for both parties. "Ye're good salts, the both of ye," he says as he disappears below. The sun is long gone by this point, and the change in shift is nearly overdue. A full night's rest is a fiction now, and only time will tell if their new ally was worth the effort.

It is Lodan, on his way back to bed, who hears the footsteps in the lower hold. His mind is filled with the fire of the grog, so it might well have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he saw a blurry figure move about, carrying a bloodstained hammock. Then they're gone, as though they disappeared.

Spoiler: OOC

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Okay guys, I've made my first cut from the game. St.Just, I'm very sorry but last night Variel was shanked in his sleep. I've already rolled Perception for Lodan (since we already decided the card players were doing the first night shift and would thus be asleep) but he didn't do so well on it (he rolled a 6). So their identities remain a secret!

That concludes the first day aboard the Wormwood! I'll be rolling in the OOC for the next day's jobs, but you guys are welcome to roleplay sleeping, and being woken up by the ship's bell in order to report to your various bosses.

[DarkOne-Rob]

As the sun rises Jarred's eyes snap open. With a snarling growl he rolls out of the hammock he found and makes his way to the deck, determined to be up there before the ship's officers call for them. Once there he finds a cup and the fresh water barrel and drinks deeply, shaking his head as the sleep still slows his motions. "Damn that grog - there is something unnatural in it or I'm an elf!" he mutters to no one in particular. Then he moves to the rail from which he can watch the morning's events while still feeling the sea breeze on his face...

...or throw someone deserving overboard. Scourge would be my first choice so far, but Plugg or the captain would do just as well. Odds are they swim well enough, though. Maybe tomorrow when I am better rested...

[WalkingTheShade]

A bad case of morning sickness

Nothing in the middle deck but thirty caged kegs of the same discount lower grade piss. Lodan comes back, certain nothing can ever go well, up to find hammocks and people sleeping in them. He picks an empty one next to a snoring crew member, before getting back up and finding another empty one further away. He instantly goes to sleep.

He dreams of sitting at a dinner table in a house near a beach, with his parents, and Harrigan, and Plugg. Lodan politely makes the introductions, but Harrigan and Plugg start laughing maniacally. Lodan wakes up and in the darkness sees a couple people carrying something away from the crew's quarters then goes right back to that house on a beach.

Lodan wakes up drenched in cold sweat, shacking, needing a drink, not any drink, but last night's grog. "That ain't right," he mumbles to himself. He gets out of his hammock to see the red-haired flame spewing (or did he dream that too?) d!ck going out on the top deck. Lodan follows, leans on the rail next to the man, "hi, what's your name again?" promptly throws up bile overboard, wipes his mouth, "nevermind, say, do you have a plan to escape Scourge's, huh, scourge? Oh, yeah, maybe you don't know: Plugg said you'd get six lashes for... you did light up your grog on fire or something? Anyways, the half-orc barely survived two lashes and, no offense meant, he looks a lot tougher than you or I."

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Sensing the end of Rosie's willingness to be conversational, Petaba settles back, leaning against the creaking hull. He observes the boisterous crew with an eye towards the relationships. If this is where I'm stuck for now, I may as get to know who I'm sharing this place with. Everyone had their own motives, their own feelings. Perhaps most importantly though, they all had things they wanted to hear. Petaba wanted to know the rights words to speak in this crowded den of thieves and murderers. It would possibly be the only thing that kept him alive.

There is only so much one can get from just watching though. Petaba makes casual conversation with anyone who looks willing, avoiding those who give him a foul look as he approaches.

After a while though, Petaba can feel the day's work and the powerful grog start to get to him. His eyes droop and his shoulders sag. Off to bed with you. No doubt that tomorrow will bring new humiliations. He sways his way down to a free hammock. It doesn't take long for the darkness to close in, and sleep to find him.

Spoiler: Observation

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Sense Motive: (1d20+5)[17] vs. DC 20
Diplomacy for Gather Information: (1d20+9)[17] vs. DC 15 to find out basic things like names and open secrets.

---

As the sun finds the ship, Petaba wakes with a start. His sleep had been deep and blissful, just the perfect sort to get someone killed in their sleep. As soon as he recognizes that he isn't bleeding, Petaba relaxes. Then the ship's bell starts ringing, heralding a start to work. He swings to the side and puts his feet on the floor with a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

He heads on up to deck, looking for the rest of the swabbing crew. They're easy enough to find, with Rosie standing around glowering at anybody and the woman with his mask looking like she was ready to harm anyone who got near her. It was apparent enough that they were not morning people.

Seeing his mask yet again on a thief's face though, Petaba resolves to get it back. He'd earned it, and the woman had not. The same shaman who had given him his ritual scarring had given him the mask, claiming it would keep away evil spirits. Though Petaba had little experience in higher magics, there were enough dark things in the world that anything that could help give an advantage against them was worth keeping near. Even more than that though, the mask was his, and it was time to start reclaiming his life.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"hi, what's your name again? [Vomit]...nevermind, say, do you have a plan to escape Scourge's, huh, scourge? Oh, yeah, maybe you don't know: Plugg said you'd get six lashes for... you did light up your grog on fire or something? Anyways, the half-orc barely survived two lashes and, no offense meant, he looks a lot tougher than you or I."

Jarred stares at the man incredulously. "You talk too much, but you can call me Red until you learn to keep quite. Words have power, and so far yours seem to attract Scourge's attention," Jarred replies seriously. "No, I don't have a plan - yet - and yes I lit that swill before drinking it." He stops speaking as the bell begins to ring, with a proud and angry expression marring his otherwise handsome visage.

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

The beast felt a wave of anger when it felt the Orc gaining ground. But with a slow silo any hiss, the pirate was unnerved, shaken enough to lose focus. In that moment, the black-scaled lizard flexed and inexorably pushed the crewman's arm into the metal and glass with a slow certainty. With a cry of pain, the half-Orc lurched to his feet and stalked off, eyeing the lizard evilly. The scales beast rose to its full height and stared back at the departing figure - those nearby could have sworn that there was a flash of teeth, and the hint of a ... smile?

The beast moved off to find a place to sleep, one where it could keep an eye on anyone sneaking up on it. Probably with the other newcomers, if possible ...

---

The beast awoke immediately before the sound of the bells, having grown accustomed to such things. Rising, it took stock of things for a moment, then headed to the deck. It didn't even notice the missing newcomer ...

Spoiler: OOC

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Ready to go ...

Spoiler: Status

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HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog (Fatigue 5hrs; +1 Chr 5hrs; -2 Con, two days; DC +1 2 days)

[WalkingTheShade]

An unlikely alliance?

"You talk too much, but you can call me Red until you learn to keep quite. Words have power, and so far yours seem to attract Scourge's attention. No, I don't have a plan - yet - and yes I lit that swill before drinking it."

Lodan smiles. "You got it backwards, Red, I'm fine, others don't talk enough. Master Fane, the half-orc, he knows some healing magic, as does another friendly crew member. They'd both help. Your... friend? sister? whoever she is, I'm sure she'd help too. There has to be a way to get them to believe that you fell overboard while we hide you away... Not that I care that much, but a flame throwing ally has his uses."

[DarkOne-Rob]

"There has to be a way to get them to believe that you fell overboard while we hide you away... Not that I care that much, but a flame throwing ally has his uses."

When Lodan mentions the idea of Jarred falling overboard Jarred looks at him again, distrust evident in his expression. "Yeah...no. Maybe if a better idea occurs to you we can talk more. For now, let's not get whipped before we even begin working."

[n0ble]

Kana's eyes sharply opened as she awoke. 'Nother bad dream. Except this time she was being keel-hauled and Coal-Dark had replaced Plugg. She sat upright and cross legged for a moment before listening to the sound of the ocean outside. It went a ways towards calming her nerves. She closed her eyes briefly and listened, controlling her breathing, taking in the sounds of the water sloshing against the Wormwood's hull. Her eyes opened again more slowly this time and she sat upright and made her way onto the deck.

Despite any misgivings she had about prior physical contact, it was good to see that the man-Loden-had survived the night in spite of his proclamation to steal the good rum. That gave her a thought. Maybe should could ask Kroup about alcohol later, see if there was anything in the pantry that might dilute the swill that had been forced on her last night. Otherwise she simply milled about, waiting for her assigned task.

[Farmerbink]

As Grok departs, early in the evening, a flicker of concern slashes across Catrina's face. Didn't make any friends there... Damn.

Undaunted, she and the blue-haired Gnome continue their game with the greasy, oversized cook. This wins a hand or two, and no less than a half-dozen times Catrina gets two or three cards away, but unerringly, Kroop manages to steal victory from the jaws of defeat the vast majority of the games. Unsure if the man knows their ploy or not, Catrina takes a small measure of joy in the man's easy smiles and free laughter. He probably hasn't had a good night in ages. At least now I can rest fairly certain that we won't be poisoned...

Still debating the wisdom of her choice, Catrina stumbles towards the berth to find an empty hammock. Given the emptiness of the ship's decks, any such hammock was sure to be unclaimed. In her fatigue and stupor, however, she failed to actually get in the hammock, and instead woke- sore as all get out- with her head and shoulders on a hammock and her butt firmly on the floor beneath, just as the ship's bell began to peal. Groaning and cursing a storm under her breath, Catrina stretched her shoulders and back as she made her sluggish way towards the main deck...

[3SecondCultist]

The Swab Crew - Catrina, Jarred, Lodan, Petaba, Thysh

The ship's bell calls you out of the darkness of the lower decks and into the not-yet blistering glare of the sun. The rays of light come in from the port side - which for those of you with keen navigational senses, means that sometime in the middle of the night, the Wormwood has tacked south by south-west. Although Harrigan's destination is unknown, some of you have a decent to good sense of the ship's general direction. As you hit the main decks, you catch sight of Scourge with a few of his toadies eating what passes for breakfast on this vessel: hard biscuits. Behind you, you can hear footsteps on the deck as Scrimshaw appears, tossing all five of you your own morsels of food. "Had to get in early to prevent the others from taking it all," the tanned sea rat warns you. "I'll try to get you some extras next time." But Scrimshaw slips away as Scourge approaches, not wanting to risk the bosun's ire. Scourge himself is clearly in a more foul mood than usual, scowling and chomping on the bit about something. He flicks his whip idly at his feet.

"Come on then, get in line! I've not got all day, ye swine!" The whip suddenly lashes the air in front of your faces menacingly. "There's work round here needs doing." He drags the tired Bagrid siblings out of the lineup first. "Since the two o' ye look so tired, I think a few laps of the ship might do ye good. Ye'll be my runners today, got it? Oh, and I've taken everyone else off it, so ye'll need to pick up the slack some." Next up is Thysh, who Scourge assigns to the main deck, but not for repairs this time. "Ye see the riggers, how they be coiling the ropes near the gunwales? I want ye to try that. See how much of it ye can carry!" He chuckles at the prospect of the gnome's failure, clearly anticipating getting to lash Thysh more tonight for her continued failures.

Scourge turns to the last two members of your swab crew with a special antagonism. Two days in, and it's already clear that the man can't wait to end Lodan and Petaba. He slices his whip at the half-orc first, barely missing him and leaving a thunderous aftereffect in the salty air. "Ye'll be doing repairs up here today," Scourge says as a matter of summary. He doesn't bother explaining the duties further. "And as for ye..." he says to Lodan, "I've saved ye the best for last. The bilges be in need o' some cleaning, have for a while. I wants ye to clean out the muck down there." He whistles, and in a flash, Aretta Bansion stands by his side, sneering at Lodan. "She'll be joinin' ye as well." Bansion, for her part, doesn't seem all that pleased at the prospect of what's about to happen, but the woman's knife-edge beauty seems ready to cut the rogue's throat if he steps out of line.

"Go on, then! Ye have yer assignments for the day, get to work before I've a mind to whip ye bloody!" It's only then, after the man has called you all out by name, that you notice Variel is distinctly missing from the deck. If Scourge has even noticed the elf's absence, however, he has not mentioned it.


The Rigger - Hiss

You are quickly separated from the others as Scourge pounces on them with a barely restrained fury. Plugg is not much better, as the young man keeps a steady hand on his sword when he walks by the swabs. Whatever happens, the man appears to be on his guard. His glance eventually darts your way. "I have a different task for you today, sailor," the first mate says, his cold eyes never leaving yours. "You impressed me so much with your climbing, that I thought you could serve as today's lookout. The job is easy: just climb back up to the top of the rigging, take your place in the crow's nest, and give a shout if you see sails." Suddenly, Plugg is standing very close to you, and you can see a very real burst of unrepentant rage in his gaze. "If I see you on the deck before dinner, I will flay you to within an inch of your miserable life. Do you understand me?"

Looking up the sails to the top of the Wormwood's mast, you can see that today's will be a solitary task. You will have time to think, but you will be doing so alone.


The Cook's Mate - Kana

Arriving at the galley well-rested, you find it reeking of the stench of grog even more than some of the crew did last night. Pushing the doors open, you find Kroop lying in a fetal position not far from one of the bubbling cauldrons, bits of drying vomit coating the floorboards. The whole place stinks of something foul. "Ashk.. ask me again..." the man's mumbles are all but incoherent, the product of an intoxicated mind. Within moments, you can tell that the man is in no fit state to do anything at all, let alone cook. Whatever happened to Fishguts last night, it's nearly destroyed him.

Looking around further, you can see that absolutely no prep work has been done for tonight's meal. Although a few boxes of the biscuits have been distributed among the crew members, you will need to make use of the food stores, some of the leftover turtle meat, and whatever utensils you can manage in order to prevent the crew from eating you alive in turn.

[WalkingTheShade]

"And as for ye..."

Lodan straightens, looking far beyond the ship, fearing what's yet to come, and with useless bravado blurts out a convincing: "yes sir!"

"I've saved ye the best for last. The bilges be in need o' some cleaning, have for a while. I wants ye to clean out the muck down there."

"Sir, a noble task, sir!" Now that he thinks of it, Scourge reminds Lodan of a foreman at the shipyard he was working at. That foreman was both a cold tyrant to everyone below him and a mellow sycophant to everyone above. Lodan's father had counseled the son not to confront the man, but just to go overboard with whatever pleasantries where needed to placate the man. "It'll be over in a few weeks, grit your teeth, tell 'im what he wants to hear, and while he's on the others' back, you'll have time to slack," his father had said. At the point he's at, he may as well try that with Scourge.

Lodan remembers Aretta from yesterday evening. Her air of danger gives her a toxic charm; her air of danger also screams to Lodan to stay away if he wants to keep his lungs healthily unpunctured. Lodan is no stranger to concealed blades. Any hesitation Lodan still has about the woman is immediately resolved as she's summoned by Scourge; if looks could kill, the one Aretta gives Lodan would award him instant death by a thousand blades and then spontaneously combust whatever remains. Lodan, deadpan, just answers: "mylady, honored to be granted the privilege of your company," still standing straight, avoiding eye contact.

As Scourge moves a safe distance away from the line, Lodan's shoulder stoop, letting out a sigh on his way to pick an empty bucket. He follows Aretta down below. While descending, Lodan thinks of Variel's absence, of what he isn't sure he saw at night. Once in the bilges, muck up to the calf (Lodan thanks whoever made his knee high boots), the man again breaks in cold sweat, a shiver passing through him. So, he's—one—been sent to the most secluded part of the ship, with—two—one of the ship's cutthroats, and—three—the elf was made to disappear yesterday. Right. Keep your cool. He clears his throat: "well, Lady Bansion, seeing that elf seems to have jumped ship, either goodman Scourge has sent you here to cut my throat while nobody's looking (in which case I would thank you to wait for the work to be over, since these hereby bilges are in obvious need of cleaning) or," and Lodan finally looks the woman in the eyes, giving his most charming smile, "Scourge hates your guts so much he put you up to the smelliest and most thankless task on board, with the most annoying uncharming fast-talking spineless thin-skinned scoundrel who ever crewed on board the Wormwood and who is, incidentally, the only person Scourge seems to hate more than you."

Spoiler: OOC

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Strength check for work: (1d20)[7] VS DC 12.
Constitution check against fatigue: (1d20)[9] VS DC 10.
Diplomacy check to seduce Bansion: (1d20+7)[15]. My hope is that even if Lodan doesn't manage to seduce her, his arguments will at least drive a wedge between her and Scourge.

Oh, and the cold sweat+shacking are meant to be grog withdrawal symptoms, since Lodan is now addicted.

[n0ble]

The Cook's Mate

What. The. F!CK!. A scowl immediately befell Kana's face as she stared at the inebriated mass on the kitchen floor. You had one job Kroop. One godsdam job. She sighed and looked about with a panicked air at the kitchen, searching for ingredients that might go well together. Sh!t Sh!t Sh!t. She closed her eyes, as she'd done just after sleeping, letting the steady rocking of the boat take over for a moment.

Still some turtle soup left. Not enough for a full meal though. Were those salt water crocodile flanks? Wont matter none 'less all the cookery gets cleaned. With that thought she ambles over to the small atoll of dirty pots, taking care to avoid the vomit. She immediately sets to work cleaning them, channelling her anger towards Kroop into scrubbing each of the pots raw.

It might have taken her the better part of the morning to clean, but it's well worth it. Most of her fury and scowl dissipated with the scrubbing. With that done she started in on the meal proper. Leftover turtle soup, crocodile flank, and some mollusks that by her estimation would have gone bad the next day anyways. Say one thing for crocodiles, they tasted like chicken. Or at least close enough.The druid thoughtfully nibbled on a herb as she heated the meat in the fire. Some kind of dried out plant algae that carried the saltiness of the sea with it. Mm. That'd go well on this...

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

Petaba gives a halfhearted acknowledgement, and goes to find the repair crew. It is fairly easy to locate the group, as they have a sail stretched out on the deck, and are repairing what appears to be some fairly large tears in it. He notices with some distaste that the thieving Garundi is with him. It was time to get to work.

He pulls a bit of the sail on to his lap and begins to stitch it. The work isn't hard, if quite monotonous. It was basically the same as fixing a tear in his clothes, except on a larger scale and with far less interesting patterns. If the others seem to be having difficulty with a particular task, he prioritizes helping them, going so far as to use a mending to help fix the sail, or dancing lights to provide a bit of light when they have to go below decks to find some more thread.

He makes small talk with the others, to the extent that they reciprocate. He keeps a close eye on Shivikah, trying to get a sense of her from her actions and her responses to the conversation. He'd be getting his mask back soon enough.

Spoiler: Learning about Shivikah

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Gather Information:(1d20+9)[28]
Sense Motive: (1d20+5)[24]

Come the hottest part of the day, Petaba stands and stretches. They had made excellent progress on the sail, and a word with Grok was in order. Just need to convince a hard-bitten pirate that doesn't care much for any of us that she wants to hand me back a valuable fiddle. Should be delightful time.

He finds the quartermaster's store easily enough. It was the kind of place that needed to be easily accessible from all areas of the ship. If it is a song that will soften her temper, a song she'll get. He clears his throat, and out comes an old, sad song in Polyglot. It was a ballad, telling about a warrior far from home, beset on all sides by enemies. All the warrior had to remember his village was a small pouch of seeds, and at every turn and misfortune, he lost a few more seeds.

Walking in, Petaba stops singing, stopping right at the climax of the abridged version of the ballad. He is met with an interested but silent stare. "Afternoon, Grok. I'll be level with you, as I've heard you've perhaps come to the impression that us new crew members are a bit lacking in forthrightness. I'd like to get Rosie's fiddle back, if you please, to bring a bit more music back to this ship. As pleasant as any song is, it could be only better with a musical accompaniment."

Spoiler: Diplomacy

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Diplomacy: (1d20+13)[30]

[Starbin]

Hiss, reptilian barbarian

The beast stared at the long-haired man without blinking, weathering the seemingly uncalled for threat. After he turned away, the lizard glanced up the mast, then started up towards the top. The ropes were more jumbled this day, as the ropes caught the beast's legs a few times. But in still only took a few seconds to reach the top and search the horizon. With that task done, the beast settled in, looking down upon the ship at the others.

At least the smell up high was fresh.

Spoiler: OOC

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If only he was a sneakier type, Hiss would have had plenty of time to sneak around. But, NOOOOO Plugg had to make a point ...

Spoiler: Status

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HPs: 14/14
AC: 12
F +5 R +2 W +2
Perception +6; Sense Motive +0
Effects: Grog (+1 Chr 5hrs; -1 Con; DC +1)

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh wakes with little by way of a hangover. The grog seems to have done quite a job on most of the others, but she feels quite good about herself. That said, she doesn't remember much about how she wound up in bed the night before. She makes her way topside along with the others, making a mental note to be up earlier tomorrow, to get more and better food. Still, she takes what she can and chokes it down, preparing for the day.

When Scourge arrives, all blustering and screaming, she gets in line quickly. She vaguely recalls a threat of more time under the whip if she doesn't perform to standards today, so she resolves to be less bad at basic shipside tasks. Surely, she thinks to herself, I can succeed at coiling a rope or two. And then I'll be owed two days' labor, and a whipping, and goodwill by proxy. She continues mentally counting off what she is owed, in sum, by everyone she has ever met, as the others get their assignments. She doesn't really think too much about what anyone else is doing, at least for the moment. Her mind has begun to wander a bit, but she manages to stay more or less on task regarding the ropes.

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Had to get in early to prevent the others from taking it all...I'll try to get you some extras next time."

"You're a saint, Scrimshaw. Thanks!" says Jarred with a smirk. "You need a hand with something, let me know - I don't let debts go unpaid. I'd be good in a scuffle if you need someone at your back..." He then stuffs the food hastily into his mouth, following it with a quick pull of water as the swabs form a line before their taskmaster.

Spoiler: Mechanics

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Diplomacy (untrained) (1d20+3)[13]. If Catrina's friendliness with Jack helps Jarred by association, apply a +2 bonus please?

"Since the two o' ye look so tired, I think a few laps of the ship might do ye good. Ye'll be my runners today, got it? Oh, and I've taken everyone else off it, so ye'll need to pick up the slack some."

...It's only then, after the man has called you all out by name, that you notice Variel is distinctly missing from the deck. If Scourge has even noticed the elf's absence, however, he has not mentioned it.

"Oh, and one more thing," Harrigan says as he turns back towards the door to his cabin. "Even with you new recruits, we're still short-handed, and I aim to keep what crew I have. [B]There'll be a keelhaulin' for anyone caught killin' anyone."

With an expressionless nod Jarred turns to begin the day's work. As he passes Jack Scrimshaw he quietly asks, "Where's the scrawny elf from yesterday? The captain was very clear - the ship needs crew members..."

Spoiler: Mechanics

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As Jarred is already fatigued, he cannot run (which is likely to be something of a problem...) and takes a -2 to Dex. If the non-running is an actual problem, please let me know what you want me to do with him.

Shirk
Acrobatics (1d20-3)[7] vs. DC 10 or fail to perform duties well
Constitution (1d20)[7] vs. DC 10 or become exhausted at the end of his shift
Stealth (1d20-1)[6] to avoid getting caught...

As he passes the kitchen and sees the chaos Kana has inherited for the day. "You look like you are going to have a rough day...If I drag Kroop there to a quiet place out of the way and clean up the deck there to get the smell out, can you make me a cup of strong, black coffee? I'll owe you, for what that is worth around here..."

Spoiler: Mechanics

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I am hoping that this can count both as me "shirking" for resting purposes ("I love coffee") to be un-fatigued and taking 10 on an appropriate skill check (or a Strength check maybe?). The result of a Profession (Sailor) check would be a 9, while a Strength check would result in a 13 until he is not fatigued anymore.

In addition, Kana is in a position to do things, and Jarred would be interested in having such an ally. Access to kitchen knives, food, coffee, the grog, etc... can all be useful in changing our state onboard the Wormwood. Maybe Kroop has some keys or some other manner to access the officers' quarters - it is worth being sneaky some. Kana might need someone like Jarred to put her up to it, but an entire day alone on the ship could be used well, assuming she doesn't have to spend it cooking the entire day. (Worth considering for future days.)

[n0ble]

Kana idly jamed a thumb in the direction of the coffee pot while hacking into a flack of crocodile meat. She set down the cleaver and shot a glance at the hulking form of the prone cook before shrugging her shoulders, "Sure." Having someone owe her for once seemed like it'd be nice. Though she wasn't sure she trusted the Red-Hair after all his posturing on deck. With that she went back to hacking away at the meat, diving it up first into long strips and then into cubes which she mixed in with the turtle soup remains. The beast mustve been huge given the amount of crocodile they had. Quite the leviathan apparently.

[Farmerbink]

A pounding head and a wince at the bright morning sun accompany Catrina to the deck for the second day in a row. I'm gonna have to stop this... she muses silently. She finds a hard biscuit in her hand and takes a bite. Scourge's whip cracks nearby eliciting another wince and effectively shattering the brief moment of introspection.

..."Ye'll be my runners today, got it? Oh, and I've taken everyone else off it, so ye'll need to pick up the slack some." Catrina nods, with a dull expression. "Aye, sir." Without another word, she follows the man's questionably useful instructions.

Throughout the day, she focuses on the task at hand, nimbly avoiding the numerous perils of traversing an ocean-bound ship. The day plods on, and true to his word, Scourge's assignment proves arduous, indeed. As the sun begins it's inexorable descent, Catrina's legs become steadily more and more leaden. Finally, as the ship's bell tolls for the bloody hour, Catrina slumps on the main deck near the mast. Happily, she's completed her task- but it may be all she can manage to stay up long enough to make dinner....

[3SecondCultist]

The Swab Crew - Catrina, Jarred, Lodan, Petaba, Thysh

A few of the pirates seem to be warming to your presence, such as Scrimshaw and Shortstone, but the rest of them seem largely unconvinced of your worth aboard the vessel. Fortunately, while Scourge clearly has it in for most of you, he is equally preoccupied with his own tasks as the bosun, and can only be in one place at once, coming and going from the main deck, the middle and lower decks with a scowl. He is more than a little surprised to see how well Thysh has done on her rope duty, standing for a moment as he watches the aesthetic but functional display of well-organized ship's line. He looks at the pile, then at the gnome, then back at the pile again, clearly confounded, before shaking his head and moving on.

Down in the bilges, Lodan is met with nothing but a cold silence from Aretta for hours. At least, he thinks it's day - the two of them are far enough down in the ship's hold that light no longer filters through the miniature slits in the hull. Instead, every wave that the Wormwood hits fills the bilges with more seawater for the two pirates to pump out while cleaning out the area. Hours pass in sullen silence, as the rogue all but breaks his back and collapses under the work. "Careful," the woman mutters, "you wouldn't want to hurt yourself there, sweetheart." An ugly smirk passes across her face, which somehow looks all the more beautiful for it. Lodan is struck by the notion that if she wanted him, she could take him right here, and he would not enjoy it. She seems to be waiting for him to slip and break his neck, but is not willing to start any trouble herself.

"Nice tune, that," Grok growls to Petaba with something resembling a smile. It's clear that despite her disapproval, the fellow half-orc has won the quartermaster's interest with something approaching genuine kindness and a little melody. "You'n should be abovedecks workin', shouldn't you? I imagine Scourge don't take too kindly to shirkers about. But I'll see what I can do about givin' that little devil her fiddle back. Maybe if you came by after hours, we could haggle somethin' out?" Although she scoots Petaba out, it's clear that Grok really does mean to take the bard up on his offer. In the meantime, it's back to fixing up sails in the rigging and listening for as much gossip as he can on the subject of Shikivah. Apparently, she used to be a slaver, and quite a brutal one at that, and unlike most here, she actually volunteered to join Captain Harrigan's crew, in the hopes of working her way as high as she can go in order to reclaim some of her former power. According to Scrimshaw and any of the other sailors who are willing to whisper on the topic, her face is covered in burns, hence the need for a mask. She barely talks to anyone, even those who are purportedly her 'friends', such as Tam Tate and Slippery Lonegan, herself a violent outcast.

It's Jarred who bears the brunt of the day's assault. Back to running - or rather jogging, in his state - the length of the ship, he can barely make one deck before needing to stop for air. Despite any aid he might have gotten from stimulants like the java from the galley, the draconic sorcerer can barely stay on his feet, let alone perform his duties to any sort of satisfactory standard. Whenever Scourge sees him, the bosun berates the man and threatens him with his whip, which works for just long enough for Jarred to get out of the line of sight. Still, his efforts are not successful, and judging by Scourge's expression, he'll be adding at least one more lash to his punishment at the upcoming Bloody Hour. Catrina fares better, although not by much; she's able to successfully pass along what information is required, but ends up in a state not too dissimilar from her brother.

As the sun makes its way closer to the deck, the Wormwood's bell tolls again. The Bloody Hour is upon you.


The Rigger - Hiss

Your ascent into the rigging is largely unhindered, save for a few false starts near the beginning that slow your progress. It's only been a day, and already you feel you know the upper echelons of this ship quite well. After about a minute, you make your way to the crow's nest, a comfortable little nook tucked away just below the top of the mainmast. Below you, the silver-green surface of the Fever Sea spreads out like a glistening curtain. The wind is in the ship's sails now, and up here, away from Plugg, Scourge, or even any of the other crew, there is a modicum of peace. It's a shame that this time has to come to an end, as all things do. Your eyes rake the horizon line, spotting distant islands, but there are no other ships that you can pick out anywhere close to the Wormwood.

Hours pass, and the longer you spend up in the nest, the better a perspective you get of some of the landmarks around you. A practiced sailor would probably be able to more precisely chart Harrigan's course, but you are no sailor. Still, it's almost a shame when the sun begins to wane. Plugg will want a report of the day's inactivity, no doubt.

Spoiler: Knowledge (Geography) or Profession (Sailor) DC 15

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Any sailor worth their salt can make out the distant silhouette of Dahak's Teeth, the infamous dragon archipelago of the Shackles that belongs to Ashaak and her cult. The shoals of the Teeth have been sharpened by the claws of drakes in order to appear all but invisible to ships, but sharp enough to cut any hull to pieces in a matter of minutes. Only the great carved dragons of the nearby cliffs serve to identify the island - a dire warning for sailors to steer clear.

The Cook's Mate - Kana

As you scramble to put together a meal for over two dozen people, you have a few visitors. The man who set his glass on fire pops his head in asking for coffee in exchange for moving Kroop out of your direct path, and Caulky Taroon comes by at least once to check on your progress, ostensibly 'on behalf of the officers.' But beyond them, your only company is the insensible Kroop, who falls to snoring at least once or twice over the course of the day. "Just... just slide it in there, that's a girl..." is just one of the many strange thought fragments you hear from the cook. There are usually mentions of one of his chickens, who cluck and do their utmost to distract you throughout the course of your cooking process.

Eventually, however, you manage what appears to be quite the appetizing meal. The crocodile meat - along with the most annoying of the chickens and the last of the turtle meat from yesterday - pairs quite well with a few of the herbs you find in Kroop's makeshift pantry, filling the galley with a titillating aroma. Although you're not a born cook by any means, you know enough about the sights and smells of the world to know that the pirates above will very much love your dish by the time you put your finishing touches on it.

[WalkingTheShade]

Resignation

At the moment of the Bloody Hour, Lodan simply walks up from the bilges to the main deck, exhausted, miserable, feverish and covered in muck. He sits and empties both his boots of seawater. He walks to the mainmast, removes his wet shirt, presenting his naked back and wordlessly waits for his punishment.

[Space Lawyer]

Petaba

A cheerful whistling betrays Petaba's good mood. Tyrvus had been right when he had said that nobody could stay unfriendly in the face of a good song. He had, of course, meant it a bit more literally given the powerful magic his songs usually carried, but Petaba chose to appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. The quartermaster seemed to be less unsympathetic now, and Rosie would likely be getting her fiddle back.

As for Shikivah, it might be best to let her keep the mask for now, at least until Petaba had a knife or something to defend himself with. Slavers weren't known for being the most reasonable people, and one with a reputation like hers would probably be even less so. Maybe just make friends with her for now, if that was even possible. Given how well Grok had responded though, it might be doable.

Petaba stops whistling when he sees Tanner bedraggled and shirtless, already awaiting punishment. This couldn't be good. Petaba walks up to the mast and places a hand on the human's shoulder. "You've got this. The pain lasts only for a bit." A pat on the back, and Petaba goes to take his place to watch. Between Tanner and the grog-burning idiot from last night, Bloody Hour would be living up to its name again today.

[WalkingTheShade]

"You've got this. The pain lasts only for a bit."

Lodan whispers, looking worried: "your healing trick from yesterday, can you make it work for me?"

[Space Lawyer]

"Your healing trick from yesterday, can you make it work for me?"

"It should work, unless Scourge well and truly lays you open. I can only fix up so much. Try your best not to die."

[WalkingTheShade]

Lodan turns to look at Petaba with a scowl (but a half suppressed smile). He's not whispering anymore. "What do you think? Of course, I'll do my best not to die!"

[Sen isSaqqara]

Thysh, who has been sitting meditating on a perfect pile of rope, walks over to join Lodan and Petaba. She recalls her earlier failure to help heal her wounded compatriot. As she sees it, they're in the same boat in more than one sense, and she has a degree of duty to help them not die, so she can offer assistance and healing without them incurring debt.

If you need help with the healing tonight, I can assist.

[3SecondCultist]

As everyone begins to gather for the Bloody Hour, Scourge is all too happy to guide the already-shirtless Lodan to the mainmast for his punishment. The ship's bell has stopped tolling, leaving only the heave of the evening waves and the creaking of the rigging above as the accompaniment to tonight's chorus of misery. "Caught slacking off, were we? Ye couldn't even hold yer own in the bilges, let alone be of any use!", the bosun says as he smiles ferociously at Lodan, before strolling around the man until he's right behind him. The whip licks the air hungrily. "We all know the punishment for that, don't we lads?" The lash comes straight and true, ripping open the sailor's back and sending him into the crushing darkness of unconsciousness. He seems mostly unharmed, however. After inspecting the body, Scourge just starts laughing. "We got ourselves a mighty weak crew!"

The second round of pain is not all that much better. Jarred is hauled into Lodan's place as the latter is dragged away, and it's evident to all that the sorcerer is not in good shape from the day he's been having. "As if failing to do yer duties weren't enough," the Wormwood's bosun drawls, "ye've gone and burned yesterday's rum ration. Sets a bad example, that does!" This raises a few harsh laughs from the hecklers among the crew, namely Slippery Lonegan, Bansion, and Tate. Still, it's hard to see the humour in this. The first stroke nearly wipes Jarred out, but he barely manages to stay on his feet. The second, however, knocks him cold, leaving a long swath of his blood all over the deck. Scourge faces the rest of the crew for a moment, to let the image sink in.

Then Scourge looks at Plugg, who stands on the quarterdeck looking down at the proceedings, and the latter gives a silent nod. "We've got ourselves one more punishment tonight!" With a whistle, Jaundiced Jape and Shikivah immediately grab Jack Scrimshaw, who looks about him in utter bewilderment. It is not Scourge who speaks, but Plugg, who slowly descends to the deck. "Last night, one of our swabs - an elf named Variel - was killed, countermanding Captain Harrigan's direct orders. He was not long for our crew, but killing each other weakens this whole enterprise, and will not be tolerated." The first mate raises a bloodstained blade expectantly. "I have evidence, and eye-witness testimony, that puts Jack Scrimshaw at the scene of the crime. For this, he faces keelhauling. Does anyone have anything to say in Scrimshaw's defense?"

[DarkOne-Rob]

Jarred silently allows himself to be hauled to the mast, where his exhausted frame weakly leans against the wood. He does not cry out in pain, instead gritting his teeth and sucking breath as the first lash hits. When the second falls he slumps limply to the deck, unmoving as the crew makes no effort to help him rise or drag him to a place where he can rest.

Spoiler: OoC and Mechanics

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If another PC wants to help (Catrina would be obvious, but I am not picky), it would be great for someone to get Jarred to a hammock. If he is healed he is likely to recognize the debt owed, but please do not heal him before the grog would be secured...

For his ship action tonight Jarred will:

Sleep - Go to bed early and sleep through the night. This ensures that your character will automatically recover from fatigue. Like 'Work Diligently', this will be the default action for your characters.

In the morning he will begin the day un-fatigued at 3 HPs (unless someone heals him).

[n0ble]

Kana rather impassively takes in the whippings. Perhaps healing the Red-hair at some point would work. As much as she didn't want others to know, someone owing her two favours would be good, assuming he's good on honouring them. Doesnt look like he's in a state to do much of anything right now mind you. She makes a mental note to do something about it when theres not more pressing things to attend to. Like watching another potential keel hauling. No wonder they had to press gang us with all this death flying around. She made another mental note to get to the quartermaster at some point and retrieve her quarterstaff. While she was capable of the odd electrical burst when angry enough, the staff would help her whomp any would be rapists or murderers. Another goal to consider.

Kana gives a shrug as she learns of the elf's death and the Scrimshaw-man's alleged crime. She doesnt know the man and doesnt want to get to know him, particularly if he's in the habit of shanking crew members in their sleep. Though whether that's true is anyone's guess really. Not like I'm going to speak up.

[Farmerbink]

As Scourge faces the crew, silently adding his glare to the obvious menace of Jarred's bleeding body, Catrina looks in the space past him with pointed indignation. She begins approaching Jarred, to at least ensure her brother remains among the living, and almost misses Scourge's announcement. Instead, she looks up from a kneeling position, her face mirroring young Jack's. She looks to the boy, who looks to her. Their eyes locked for a moment, Catrina all-but hears the youngster beg for help. She gives him a questioning look, and is rewarded with the faintest shake of his head to the negative.

An uncomfortable second passes. Two. Jack's oppressors begin binding his arms with rope.

"What a load of nonsense!" Catrina's voice shatters through the dull murmurs of shock and pointed silence of resignation alike. "Whoever gave you evidence engineered the event. For starters, bless his heart, Jack couldn't kill a man if he tried. Look at the lad's arms, for Besmara's sake! More importantly, Jack can't have killed a man while he was playin' spin, unless he's got a twin on board! He may be decent at cards, but nobody can be in two places at once! He was with us, late into the night, weren't he, Thysh? Go ask Kroop, if he can give you a straight word; he'll straighten it right, too!"

Spoiler: OOC

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OhdearGodletmenotdieplease
bluff - (1d20+10)[22]