[Game Thread] A Sunken Ship Of Mildewed Scrolls

[Aosaw]

Nemat tries desperately to get a hold on Naethin, but the boy is thrashing too much - and then he clocks Nemat squarely in the jaw, sending him reeling under the water for a moment.

When he resurfaces, he shouts at the boy angrily. "Stop thrashing so much!" he says. "Do you want to call every shark in the Shackles?"

[cyranojoe]

Naethin

Dice * nonlethal damage, +3 if it includes STR bonus, halved if considered underwater:

1d3

2

hits, and then gets to

Dice swim again, if needed:

d20+7

(16)+7

Total = 23

swimming away, best he can, which is pretty good. As he does, cold ocean waves slosh across his head, leaving him to hear his unknown assailant's demand -- "Stop thrashing...!" -- and subsequent declaration "...call every shark... Shackles!"

'He really IS a mer-man! What hell a' waters is this?'

With a strong kick, Naethin starts to make tracks. Don't matter the direction, he's all turned about anyway. Long as he's headed away from the pirates' ship and the shark-hailing being, he'll just have ta figger where land is later.

OoC What're you guys doing still aboard ship??

Roll boo-boo Aw, I just added the text about halving if underwater, and it "deleted" my damage roll. I swears it was a 2. Is OK?

Warning: rolls have been deleted from this post.

[Aosaw]

Nemat sighs. Kids. But he's not about to let Naethin drown in the ocean because of a bloody nose. Steeling himself for additional punishment, he

Dice Swim:

1d20+4

(19)+4

Total = 23

swims after the boy and

Dice CMB:

1d20+4

(18)+4

Total = 22

EDIT: This is the Grapple maneuver, in case that wasn't clear. Since neither of us is armed, no AoO's required.attempts to grab his arm.

"You're going to exhaust yourself if you keep going like that," he says as calmly as he can, although the pain in his jaw makes it somewhat 2 nonlethal damage suffered, 8 damage before disabled.difficult. "Quit swinging your arms about so much; someone's going to get hurt."

And that someone is probably me, he adds silently. This was not how he intended to spend his first day as an indentured sailor. At least on the Wormwood, he was dry...

[kenneth]

From Aydan's disinterested position, he hears a commotion and sees two asses going over the rail. He turns to one of his fellow captives and says, "I don't like lectures either, but that was a bit of an over-reaction." He finds a seat and plops himself down, hoping to spot a water barrel and ladle.

[kingmonkey]

Hyrald nods at Ayden's comment. The situation was awful, but he didn't see that the sharks would offer any safer a haven than the pirates. Given the choice, pirates could be reasoned with, usually with the clink of gold, or the meaty whack of a good, solid sword. Of course, Hyrald had neither right now, so he figured it was up to him to be the more reasonable one-- reasonable, in this case, meaning compliant.

"Entertaining, though," Hyrald replies.

Instead, Hyrald stands quiet, keeping his eye on the pirates. He watches their faces keenly, hoping for some kind of measure of these men- which were more approachable, which to avoid.

[Mal Radagast]

On Deck As the ship shifts its weight, the sailors all brace or sway accordingly. The boy's distraction is obstructive enough to grant the rest of the new recruits a reprieve, of sorts, while the crew scrambles to bear away from the wind. Hard to keep track of everyone, all bustling about like that, though Hyrald and Ayden have a good view of the foredeck, where Captain Harrigan stands shouting orders and surveying options. He does not, they may notice, shout at his helmsman...helmswoman, rather. (You probably shouldn't call her the cockswain.) A dark Mwangi woman, she is, wearing a Minkaian sedge hat and a deep smile. The whites of her eyes are almost disconcerting against all the dark of her, mostly silhouette really, in the hot noonlight. Hyrald and Ayden may or may not notice the redhead, who's braced herself standing against a ready bit of rigging, nonchalant-like. They may or may not notice the way she watches things, themselves included, as keenly interested as they are in developing her awareness of a new situation. They certainly notice when she chuckles at their little commentary, that salty chuckle again, wry and rueful...reminds you more of old sailors than young women, but then, who says the two are mutually exclusive? "Don't suppose they left either o'you chaps a flask of something? No?" She spits, then sighs. "Me neither." Satisfied that Mister Plugg has got the men in order - and he has, it seems - Harrigan moves to watch events unfolding over the edge. He watches the determined fool of a boy and his equally determined, though somewhat hapless, savior as they make some small progress across the water. Progress towards what is anyone's guess, but they're moving, and the wind is headed the other way...and the way he wants to go, too. Wind on your side, for once, and...Harrigan heaves a sigh. "That lad's earned a whipping..." he grumbles. Then, louder, "Mistress Longfarthing!" A door opens just below him - on the main deck, portside. An older woman, Taldan by the looks of her, slams the door and hops up few steps to where the captain waits. Long coat, of a rich color and high neck...your first guess would probably be textbook tower wizard. To see the way she moves, though, the bright shine of her dark eyes, her almost ageless quality despite that obvious shock of silver hair...it smacks of a wilder sorcery. In fact both guesses are wrong, but it tells you something about the woman herself, doesn't it? Harrigan grunts. "Can ye do something about this blunderous balls-up?" She looks down and, increasingly, away - then looks back at Harrigan. "What, from here?" She snorts. "Precious little, captain, and nothing you'd find helpful." He nods. "Figures." Meanwhile, his pipe has gone out. He scowls at it and starts patting his pockets, but Longfarthing finds a tindertwig first. (She always has a box of them to hand, though you don't know that about her yet.) Lighting the pipe and then glancing again overboard, she's just in time to see...

In The Water They'd landed in the same place, but then as Nemat had tried to restrain the lad, Naethin rammed an elbow in his ear and kicked off against him for a decent headstart. The wake-waves knock them both about, but Nemat catches him up, Wasn't actually sure how to handle successive swim checks vs realtime - if someone is ahead of you and the two of you swim at the same rate, why should you catch up every six seconds? So I just took your last two checks and decided that since his was just barely higher, he's just barely ahead of you. Suits?almost. He grabs an ankle, but Naethin kicks free. It's then that Naethin spots what he was very much hoping not to encounter. A large dorsal fin - no, two - shiny grey, dead ahead, and clearly onto him. They begin to circle in a characteristically menacing fashion...

[Aosaw]

OOC I swear, if I bite it this early for trying to save you, I'm going to haunt your nightmares from here to the end of the world...

Nemat glances back toward the ship, growing increasingly more distant as the time passes, and manages to turn around just in time to see the fins rising out of the waves. Of course, he's not afraid - he's never been afraid, in fact, and he wouldn't know the feeling if it came upon him - but the situation has gone from bad to dire in a matter of seconds.

"Huh."

Okay, he thinks. What's the best way to get a shark to stop bothering you? Play dead? No, that's bears. Punch them in the face? No, he's pretty sure that doesn't work on anything. Then it dawns on him, an old proverb from his foster father.

If you can't swim faster than the shark, make damn sure you can swim faster than your friend.

Seems a terrible thing to do to somebody. But in the arena of life-saving, it occurs to him that he might not be the only one who's heard of it. "Swim back toward the ship!" he calls out to Naethin, hoping against probability and the boy's apparent deafness that he can hear Nemat over the roaring of the waves.

And then, because he knows neither of them can swim faster than a shark, he ducks his head beneath the surface, and Swims toward the sharks, more like. Don't think I can really manage a charge in the water.

Dice Swim:

1d20+4

(4)+4

Total = 8

charges.

[kenneth]

The rocking and rolling of the ship prompt another sour belch from the sallow-skinned abductee. "Wooof! Pardon me." He'd only ever been mildly seasick before, but he was quickly learning how it was really done. He goes from yellow to green.

"I am nev'," he stops mid-sentence to catch himself and begins to breath as shallowly as he can. He also begins to sweat profusely. On any other occasion he would have enjoyed watching people get eaten by a shark. In truth, until a moment ago, he'd been rooting for it. Now he's too sick to enjoy it and getting sicker by the moment.

His temples pound, his guts churn and he feels light headed. Aydan rolls off his perch of tarred rope and crawls to the gunnels. There was a chance he could fall overboard, but he wasn't about to puke on the deck. That was bad luck and they usually made you clean it up no matter how sick you were. Kneeling already, he decides to offer a prayer to Besmara. He figures it couldn't hurt.

"Sweet Bess, grant me a quiet tummy, a cleansing heave or a swift death. Any's fine at this point. Oh, uh, yours truly, Bahadir. Well, you probably know who I am. If you don't, they also call me Aydan. You might recall sparing my life at Hawsepiper Isle. Well, I assume it were you. Not like anyone else..."

Aydan pants hard and swallows a few times. He has a death-grip on the railing. His eyes roll back and lids flutter closed. He goes from green to pale.

[cyranojoe]

Even before the solid reality of SHARK crushes any remaining mer-men fantasies floating around his head, Naethin’s subconsciousness had started to shred and shed the idea. T’weren’t no sech thing, an’ that voice -- shore sounded awful familiar, if strange, too. It finally registers at the same time that the fin comes into view. Reality sinks in, colder than the ocean's bones, and that's right cold, all right.

The cocky one with the dark hair. He must a’ jumped o’erboard right after Naethin got clear. But... why? The other guy don’t seem ta want the same thing as him, what with all the damn tangle legs an’ punchin’. Almost like he was tryin’ ta drag ‘im back, an’ why would a slave wanna ‘nother slave ta go back ta servin’?

But puzzlin’ that out were for some other time. Sharks. Nauseous shivers run down Naethin’s throat an’ jumps in ‘is belly. But he don’t vomit. Holding a steady float so’s his head’s above water now, Naethin hears the faux Darius clear as day: ”Swim toward the ship!” And then he’s gone.

Naethin’s grapes go tight in a flash. Sharks get ‘im? No, that splash looked like the feller meant ta go down. But as fer his command -- go back to the ship, an’ slavery? ”Bite that!” the teen snaps. Better ta end up shark food... and better than that, ta just get away from all of ‘em inna first place. But here was this idjit, some damn fool goin’ inna ocean after somebody... Wait, izzat what he’s doin’? Again jes’ like Darius, to go off after some fool adventure, or ta help save somebody what don’t need no friggin’ savin’.

Naethin chomps down on his jaw. He should by rights be gone -- swimmin' ta safety, 'r at least ta his freedom, even if 'twere a freedom ta die on 'is own 'stead a' on some cursed pirate ship. He ain't never been afeared a' goin' off on 'is own inna wilderness, so's he really oughter jes' get to it. Swim away.

'Dammit, swim away!'

The boy flexes his arms and, with

Dice Swim:

d20+7

(1)+7

Total = 8

Dice Attack Shark, or attempt to protect Nemat, if he sees the other guy getting attacked:

d20+4

(11)+4

Total = 15

Up to you how that exactly works...a somewhat halfhearted twitch of leg, kicks himself toward the nearest shark. 'No use in 'scapin' if yer guilt's jes' gonna drag ya back...'

OoC Suits.

[Mal Radagast]

In The Water

On Deck Wind whips hard into the sails, drawing assorted creaks, clanks, and curses from the rigging. The ship does turn, though, and finally come to rest...well, as much as any ship ever wishes to be at rest. Looking satisfied with her ship yet annoyed nevertheless, the Mwangi woman steps up behind a scowling Harrigan. "See ta me wheel," she says. "I be go-eeng to have a chat wit the naughty boya." He only raises his eyebrows, nods, and says "Be nice." Which, if you think about it, is an odd thing for him to say. She bows her head, so that you could only see her dark dreadlocks and that wide sedge hat, if you were looking. "Good ting it is that I sayeved me some sea-spray..." Pursing her lips then, she blows - soundless at first, rising to one atonal sort of whistle. A quick wind whips past her and takes the note away, around, down the side of the ship where a splash against the hull decides to linger in the misty shape of a woman. The woman starts to walk. Back on the maindeck, Ayden doesn't look so good. As the ship slows and settles a bit, the redhead walks over to lean against the rail beside him. Quicker than he can react, in his given state at least, she spits in one hand and slaps him upside the head. Then she grins. "Feels funny as hell, less you're used to it, but it's better'n puking." She stays at the rail there, watching the various shapes on the water, and occasionally glancing at the ones on the foredeck. If she thinks anything in particular about her observations, she's got a decent poker face.

In The Water [2 ]A figure starts walking out from the ship, only you never noticed a figure climbing down the ship. Then again, you were busy. As the figure gets closer, you do notice something odd...it really is a figure, a shape, not a person. A shape made of water, just like the sharks...no, mist. Not nearly so dense as they are - looks like a stiff breeze could carry it away or the sun burn it right up, though clearly the breeze hasn't. Nor the sun. No matter whether you swim away, the mistman - mistwoman? - moves apace. Up closer, you can see a broad hat, casting a rather impossible shadow over long mist-locks. The mist woman looms just over Naethin - who is beginning to tire of treading water - and she folds her arms, glaring down at him. At least, it might be a glare. It looks like one, but then any expression on that face would look a bit stormy. "Yoo, boya, will sweem back to me boat riyat now. Doo note mayek me turn the winds an bring me boat aftar yoo, or I swayer to yoo I will note let Plugg deliver the panishings. I weel doo it meeselve." She spits, more mist, then turns and marches back o the ship. A little wake follows after her footsteps, across the water.

DM Excellent! Glad to have wrenched one more post out of you, Aosaw. As for certain spells, effects, and suchlike, you'll notice that I tend to reflavor them a bit. Sometimes a large bit. Please do tell if something irks or itches you, on account of the fact that I don't usually give more than a passing glance to the rules; mostly I'm just having fun playing god. Er, gods, I suppose. Partly, I'm taking a cue from kingmonkey and removing your ability to assume how things work, as we so often do when we know all the game's mechanics.

[Aosaw]

Nemat dove under the water, prepared to give his life for the boy beside him - but when he went to face the beasts, they weren't there waiting for him with waiting jaws. Well, that's highly unusual, he thought. He returned to the surface, and grabbed hold of the nearest fin. "Well that's lucky," he says, waving to Naethin to show that the danger...was never there, apparently. "But our boat is slowing down, it looks like; maybe we should head back to it, before Besmara decides to send something real with rows and rows of teeth."

As he swims past Naethin, he laughs. "Honestly, where were you planning to go? You escaped the pirates, sure enough, and bully for that; but there's ocean all around us. I don't think you're quite up to the task of making a go of it."

"If you come back to the ship, I'll see to it we both make it off alive. But maybe let's try to avoid casting ourselves into the deep before then, aye?"

[cyranojoe]

Naethin dunks his head inna water. 'Maginary sharks? He's turnin' inna goddam Darius, seein' crazy sh*t what ain't there! Wait -- actually, that was more like Anaster an' his pa, an' they's inebriations. The alcohol, that was it. Best be, or he's already goin' sea-crazy an' he's only been inna water fer no more'n a minute 'r two. Don't matter neither way, though: whatever they was, they wasn't no threat. He's relaxed, but still a chill runs down his leg at the thought of encountering the *real* deal... but he was jes' gonna have ta risk it.

Meantime, though, he cain't help but wonder, if they's wasn't 'maginary 'r nothin, but real -- like, magic real -- where'sey come from?

That thought of mystical sources, of course, precisely coincides when the magic figure begins ta come his way, walkin' cross water like it was solid ground. The mer-man, meantime, turns out he ain't no mer-man after all, but another of the prisoners what been snatched up. The skinny Darius with the dark hair, in fact. Sightin' the feller there, Naethin gets ta mindin' some pretty dark thoughts. "Jumped ship wi' me, huh? But not fer no 'scapin'? Ya try ta catch me an' drag my ass back ta that boat there -- I know what you is, feller. You ain't been no prisoner -- you's a vegetable, planted 'mong us ta act as spy, an'-an' enforcer fer tha damned pirates!"

Naethin spits, then steels himself for another bout a' fisticuffin'... Only the feller ain't so stupid ta try that tack again. Looks like he's givin' up, in fact. "...maybe we should head back to it," faux-Darius says, an' then some garbage 'bout teeth. Laughs nice an' easy, like all this imprisonment an' near-death wi' sharks were jes' a game. "Honestly, where were you planning to go? You escaped the pirates, sure enough, and bully for that; but there's ocean all around us. I don't think you're quite up to the task of making a go of it. If you come back to the ship, I'll see to it we both make it off alive. But maybe let's try to avoid casting ourselves into the deep before then, aye?"

The vastness of the task ahead of him -- escaping across open sea, with no idea what direction safe land was, only almost certain death even if he were ta pick the right direction -- it rises up and almost drowns Naethin's heart right then an' there, an a big swell a' salt water ain't doin' him no favors, neither. Weakness saps his bones, e'en makes the simple treadin' water he's doin' feel like it was a thousand leagues a' work already.

But then the lass shows up, for that's what the mist spirit is; fer a second, Naethin wonders and marvels, a mer-maid come through more fantastic and unbelievable than any a' Darius's best yarns. Only she's only come what ta curse at 'im, an' it comes clear she's from the blasted pirate ship, not no deepwater mer-maid castle surrounded by treasure an' the like.

He c'n scarce parse what she's sayin, too, an' gets distracted cause he cain't help but try a peek up her nethers since she's standin' o'er him all like that; t'ain't no luck there, all mist an' invisible magic. Much like a reg'lar woman's nethers, he figgers.

In any case, all she's got fer him is threats a' whips an' switches. He'd felt enough a' their lash from Mr. Stoudt back at tha schoolhouse -- ain't like they got worse fer him aboard no damned pirate ship. 'Thought I growed outta this sh*t when I done run 'way from Greenvale...'

With a silent breath,

Dice Swim:

d20+7

(6)+7

Total = 13

Naethin turns to swim away. 'Hell,' he thinks to hisself. 'Damn right I growed out of it.'

'No man gon' take muh freedom 'way jes' cause he's onna big ship an' thinks he c'n boss me 'round....'

OoC Unless that's a magically triggered exhaustion (in which case, tell me that it's a more serious feeling), I'm going to take your saying Naethin tired of treading water after barely a minute or two as an emotional indicator, not a physical signal I need to worry about.

[kenneth]

"Well shave my ass and call me Nancy." Whether it was the spell or just relief, he had a feeling of pure joy. Aydan hadn't really expected his prayer to be answered and certainly not so promptly. In truth, he wasn't usually the praying type. In his experience, the more desperate the prayer, the less likely it was to be granted. It went against his nature to ask when he could do plenty well by himself, so there didn't seem to be much of a point in praying at all.

"Thanks to you. I'd flip you a coin, but my purse seems to have abandoned me." He was talking to Besmara at first, but somewhere in the middle turned the comment to the young woman who'd cast the spell. "Funny thing about gods," he says as he rolls over and sits on the deck. He looks up at her a moment before continuing his thought.

"I don't know who to thank. You clearly cast the spell but it was Bess I was talking to, not you. Did she prompt you? Or rather, did she put you here, on this ship, with that spell ready, knowing I would ask? Or did she answer at all? Did she even hear?" He shakes his head to clear it.

A storm-cloud passes over him. "I never should have prayed. Such a fool. Now I'm bound for an act She may have nothing to do with at all." He looks up at the bemused woman with a hint of anger in his eyes. "You should have left me be. I would be miserable, but at least I wouldn't be in debt to Besmara." He growls at himself under his breath and looks angry enough to spit.

"I choose to thank you, woman. You have spared me a miserable day and probably one horror of a night. If Besmara requires my gratitude, she'll have to show up in person to receive it."

He slaps the deck next to him as an invitation to sit and asks, "So, you know this captain, do you? What do you make of him?"

[Mal Radagast]

Up On The Foredeck The dark helmswoman casts a darker scowl out from under the shade of her hat, out at the fading figure of the boy. Harrigan glances over her way, says, "If he willna return, then let him drown. Let 'em both drown. Wasted time, already, an' I've no wish ta be wastin' your talents as well, aye?" Compass Rose - that is what they call her, at least, and no one who knows her asks her name - tosses a quick sharp look at the captain. "Eeyit is thee principle of thee ting." Dark hands grip the rail a moment longer, flushing brown in the sun, then release one finger at a time, like careful spiders. She reaches up to tug at a lock near her temple...tangled into those dreadlocks, tied or twisted or braided among them, are a collection of oddments, feathers, bits of shell, small bones...something that looks suspiciously like a very tightly-folded scroll. Using both hands now, she works the knot loose, cupped hands coming away with a handful of little waxy green leaves. She smiles at them, takes a deep long breath of them, holds them up, and then begins another whistle. This one starts the same, rough and low, but it grows lighter, dancing on a playful whip of wind...the wind takes the leaves, and the whistling with it, and the Mwangi woman dusts off her hands in satisfaction. Turning around, Harrigan sees mostly grin beneath her hat, and the grin is mostly malicious. Not entirely. "Cap-tahn...I be needing me wheel back abowat now."

Back On The Maindeck The redhead laughs. "Besmara doesn't put folks anywhere, near as I can tell. Not much of a planner, really." Still watching the sea, eyes darting back to the foredeck and forth, her tone is vaguely preoccupied. Or maybe it's just in her nature to be faraway like that. "My experience, she's better at gettin' me out of scrapes than avoidin 'em...or maybe it's just that I'm prayin' harder. If you call it prayer." She watches a bit longer, until the boy's almost out of sight and the man still swimming after him. Whatever the damned fool thinks he can do. Shaking her head, red waves tossing. "Anyway," she looks over to Aydan and nods to see his color come back. "She don't bind folk - isn't her style. Neither do I, come to that. Simple enough little trick she taught me. I'll take your thanks, though, and whenever you get a bit of coin again, just flip one to the sea for me an' we'll be square. She may not bind, but she'll sure as all hells punish if she sees fit, and I like a bit a'credit to me name, aye?" The Shackles in her tongue came out stronger at the end, there, as she trails off again. She cocks her head like a bird, listening...and then you can hear it, whistling past your ear, feel the wind pick up and a merry bit of tune with it. The redhead seems almost to hum along for a moment, then breaks off with an effort, shaking her head again. She holds an arm out for Aydan and says, "Sandara Quinn. Pleased to meet ya, Nancy." She glances about again, scents the air. "And now it's best we step away from the mainrail."

At Sea Naethin's got a good lead, on the ship and Nemat both. The mist-lady went away, and he seems to be more or less alone at sea. No sharks or similar to eat him, just...sea. The wind shifts, but in his favor, pushing him along, so he's alright there. Except it's getting kinda choppy...and then the cloudless bright sky cracks with heat-thunder, and the horizon behind him darks...

[kenneth]

"That sounds fair. And the name's Bahadır Hakan, though I've been called Aydan since I was a boy." He takes the woman's arm and stands, following her away from the railing.

"My people came to The Padishah Empire of Kelesh long ago as part of emperor Heng Baojia's exploration fleet. A fool's errand, really. The sea is no place for sane men." He chuckles at his own joke. "By the time they'd reached those storied shores, not much was left of the Grand Fleet. Many, including my great grandparents, chose not to make the return trip to Lung Wa. Never heard what became of the fleet."

He squares his shoulders and takes on a brazen tone. "Anyway, sailors sail so my people eventually found their way to Avistan, then to the Shackles. Don't know when they changed their name to Hakan. Probably dodging a soiled past. Never heard the original name."

He stands a bit taller, trying to see the goings on more clearly. "Looks like things are about to get interesting. Be a shame if they spend all this effort just to keel-haul those fellows once they're caught. Would do as an object lesson to the rest, I suppose. Well, not so much to me. I'm a bit thick-headed and entirely too surly to take so subtle a hint. They'll have to do something really impressive to get my attention."