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  #61  
Old Feb 23rd, 2022, 10:28 PM
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Vizk Ichimal
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Vizk held the small vial gently, "Thank you" he said, his tail swaying gently. He listens to the exchanges, letting them filter through his tired mind.

"We must. This ship is set up to use us till we die. There is a better, less wasteful way. Cruelty for cruelty's sake is not productive. However, to gain these things, recover our gear, the crystals, weapons..." he stifles a yawn, "Takes a level of subterfuge that... is not my strength. Perhaps it is one of yours? If not, that may be the first thing we should look for."

He rises to his feet, "I am sorry to miss the entertainment, but I must sleep or I will be of no use to anyone

 



 

Last edited by Brian; Feb 23rd, 2022 at 10:43 PM.
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Old Mar 1st, 2022, 07:07 PM
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Badger, Lyneth, Vizk; Middle Hold
There was a decided hush to the evening meal as the newest conscripts returned, one that made the boisterous affair of the previous night stand out in their memories. Neither Fipps nor Syl were present, but their two companions -the ones who had backed down to a few choice words by the irrepressable Graak Fishguts- kept a tight eye on the four. When Badger took his rum ration but left it full at his elbow, the bigger of the pair flashed a mean grin at his companion then become seemingly absorbed in his dinner. Just down the table from him, Sandra started to shake her head but caught herself, then turned back to a conversation with a man whose angry eyes and battered knuckles spoke volumes about his temprament.

After Scales and Graak trundled off to bed, satisfied if not refreshed by the evening's humble meal and smelling strongly of the boat's medicinal stores, Lyneth managed to gather a small crowd of onlookers while Badger observed. Though her singing was relatively on-key and not hopelessly out of tune, it didn't appear to be the sort of music their fellow sailors were in the mood for. One by one they drifted away to find other ways to pass the evening.

Afterwards there didn't seem much else to do, so the pair retreated to their bunks in the back of the lower hold.

~End of Day 2~


~Morning, Day 3~
Vizk, Lyneth, Badger; Lower DeckIn the open air of the main deck, the third day of their press-ganging dawned bright and clear and beautiful enough to inspire poetry. These were the kind of days at sea that authors wrote books about, filled with flowery prose and terse adjectives. Down on the lower decks, however, a storm was brewing.

"Get yer up, ya pack o' louse-infested swine," Master Scourge thundered into the hammock-lined hold, his bullwhip splitting the air with a monstrous crack. He stood at the base of the ladder leading up; at his side was perhaps one of the largest men any of the newer sailors had ever seen. Despite his slumped shoulders and cringing demeanor, he stood tall enough to reach up and brush the deck above without effort. In any other room aboard the Wormwood, in fact, he would have had to squeeze his broad, muscular shoulders just to enter. Being this close to Scourge obviously caused him a great degree of discomfort; the man absently plucked at the feathers painfully tarred to his arms and shoulders, further irritating the red skin showing beneath them.

This third morning should have been filled with the cusses and curses of a rough crew expelling the last of unpleasant dreams. This morning the swears cut out quickly as everyone realized in the same breath who had woken them so, and likely why. Eyes slid surreptitiously to Badger in the back, then quickly jerked forward to the thin man with the whip once more and his oversized companion.

"Ev'one above decks!" Scourge ordered loudly and the other sailors lept to obey. "'cept you four," he amended quickly, pointing out Slippery Syl, the hunch-shouldered Fipps Chumlet, Aretta Banson, and Jaundiced Jape with the head of his leather prod. "And you," he gestured, calling out Lyneth as she attempted to slip past. "Yer in the bilges today. Ye' get sta'ted soon as we leave."

"And you," Master Scourge finished, turning his hateful gaze on Badger. "I got some'tin real special fer ye, never you doubt. If'in ye won't take yer medicine, can't have ye passin' on nothin' to the rest o' the crew. Yer going in t'sweatbox 'til yer attitude changes!" The cruel grin turned to a vicious scowl as he gestured vaguely to the four he'd first named, simultaneously pushing forward the man well over twice his size, and aimed the lot of them in Badger's direction. "Take 'im. If'in he resists, beat 'im till he don't any more."
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Old Mar 1st, 2022, 07:44 PM
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Badger offered no resistance to the press gang.

"Sweat box," he said cheerily. "Be good to sweat out the toxins in my body, I suppose. Lead on."

Inside, the monk knew the torture that likely faced him. But, while they could break him eventually, he would make them pay the price for it while they did. And that price was listening to him be cheerful, and uncaring, and sowing the seeds of discontent while he complied.

"Sorry, mates," he said to the others. "Off to punishment, so I won't be pulling my fair share today. The more punishment gets handed out, the harder you all have to work. Apologies."
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Old Mar 2nd, 2022, 11:55 AM
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Lyneth - Woman the bilge
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She looks at the man, her brown eyes suggesting a thousand various torments for him, "No fresh fish tonight boys, hopefully the ship doesn't sink with me down there." She then marches off to her duty station.

The only thing that can be said for the bilges is that Lyneth isn't all that tall so she isn't too cramped. Beyond that she is not built for pumping bilges and her muscles begin to ache and tire after just a few hours. By the time the day is done she's had to use feet, arms, every muscle she could possibly find, to work the bilge and she is dead on her feet. If this is what avoiding the rum does she knows she'll have to take the poison if she could neutralize it with a spell she would but the great spirits of the ocean did not give that ability to her.


 


 

Last edited by Ysolde; Mar 2nd, 2022 at 11:56 AM.
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  #65  
Old Mar 9th, 2022, 12:03 PM
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Badger; Main DeckForcing their other crewmates to confront the brutal reality of their punishments was a brilliant idea. However, both Badger and Lyneth lacked the necessary gilding to turn others with their words. Instead, it gave Master Scourge yet another opportunity to play the bully. As the small procession wound its way up from the lower decks and approached the steel-bound box near the stern, Scourge's harsh words lashed out, laced with scorn.

"Yar," he demanded, gesturing with his coiled whip, "Ye hear that, lads? Listen to the braggart! He'd leave ye all the work if he could! Too good to push a mop with his comrades. What do ya think of that, eh? Eh?"

As dark murmers slipped through the assembly, the four dragged a compliant Badger forward. The big man trailing them, clearly uncomfortable with all the anger sent in his general direction, seemed to shrink in on himself until he was no taller than Scourge, even if he was twice the bossun's width. Out here in the light, the group noticed a heavy manacle secured around one of his thick ankles.

From the minute Master Scourge unchained the lid and threw it open, Badger knew he was in for pain. The confining structure seemed purpose made for misery. It was just long enough by one dimension to fit his legs, if they stayed bent. It was too narrow for him to curl up and roll one way or the other, and likewise it was too short to sit up properly. Badger's escort didn't bother letting him find comfort, instead slamming the lid over his head and securing the wrapping chains with a massive padlock.

"We'll see what he has to say at the dinner bell, eh lads? Maybe then he'll take his medicine!" With a contemptuous flick of his wrist in Fipps direction, the scabrous boatswain stalked away, his lips twisted in a grim smile. Fipps ducked his head miserably and reached out a hand to tug on the gigantic sailor's ragged shirt. The man followed meekly enough, though as Scourge walked away his shoulders straightened a bit. Without further comment, Fipps chained the big man to the nearby railing by his ankle and went about his duties.



BadgerMake 8 Constitution saves. The DC starts at 15 and increases by one for each following roll.

LynethWoman the Bilges: DC 12 Strength check followed by a DC 10 Constitution check

ScalesRepairs: DC 10 Profession (Sailor) or Dexterity check
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Old Mar 9th, 2022, 08:07 PM
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Old Mar 11th, 2022, 08:45 AM
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Badger; SweatboxThe sweatbox was aptly named. Exposed to the boiling sun, stepped round by metal chains and bands, the temperature within the confined space rose rapidly. That hardly seemed to matter, however; Badger's hidden nature soaked up heat that would have left another senseless. The true challenge, then, became the cramped positioning. Only a master of one's physical self could overcome the strained muscles and curved spine for long.



ResultsBadger suffers no adverse effects from his first 8 hours in the box.
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Old Mar 12th, 2022, 07:57 AM
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Badger endured. It was all he could do. There were limited options, by design of the torture. He pursed his lips and sucked in cool air when he could, through the small holes allowed by the space. The sun beat down, and he shifted his body in tiny measures, to first allow the heat to warm and stretch his muscles, then to allow them to cool from the near unbearable heat of the direct rays.

He endured. It was the only option.
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Old Mar 12th, 2022, 11:40 PM
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Vizk Ichimal
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Vizk was concerned about the fate of his... closest thing to friends on the ship. No doubt them being singled out and kept behind meant they were going to face some extra hard work today. As he cut and trimmed spare planking to repair damage and sand down roughed patches of decking, he wondered if they would survive long enough to build support for a mutiny.


 
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Old Mar 15th, 2022, 01:49 AM
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Brimble Lightfinger



 

The main deck... One of his least favorite places on the entire ship. And... to make matters worse... He was subjected to yet another menial task involving these blasted ropes! How was it possible that he'd been taught a plethora of knots these last few days aboard the Wormwood, and somehow none of them seem particularly capable of holding a rope in place for more than a few moments. Perhaps these sailors were testing him?

Brimble T. Lightfinger's mind began to wander as he continued to coil a length of rope. The Halfling often found that pretending he was somewhere else helped pass the time. It would distract his mind from the constant feeling of salt on his tanned skin or considerable damage it was, undoubtedly, doing to his orange-red hair. He adjusted the wire frame of his spectacles so they sit more comfortably on his wide nose.

"If this were a test..." He was now mumbling to himself, unaware that his thoughts were being voiced aloud; "But surely they wouldn't... And yet... indeed it is a strange lot they've assembled. Hmm... It would take some work... But it is possible..."
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Old Mar 21st, 2022, 02:09 AM
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Lyneth, Vizk, Badger, Brimble; Main Deck [A3]Lyneth was greeted by the familiar, craggy face of none other than Master Scourge at the sounding of the work bell. Despite her success at breaking up all the various revolting flotillas and keeping the pumps clear, the man appeared anything but pleased, glaring down on her. The sailor at his side, a rowdy halfling woman the sea witch had seen at meals, grimaced at the stench before throwing down a sackful of lyme and gesturing at Lyneth to hurry.

Scourge hurried both women upstairs with a spare curse for good measure. In the minutes it took the trio to climb to the main deck [A3], work had nearly ceased on the main deck, save for the redeye crew beginning their nightly preparations. The captain and Mr. Plugg had retired to their quarters prior to the hearty clang of the bell. None of the other sailors had left the deck, however. Furtively, every eye touched on the sweat box.

Master Scourge knew he had an audience the minute he set foot on the thick planks in his ill-sized boots. He didn't quite strut, crossing the board, but neither did he seem in any particular hurry as he made his way forward. The enormous man, for the most part ignored in the beating sun, looked up hopefully as the lean bossun approached. Those hopes visibly collapsed as he belatedly realized the owner of those footfalls. For his part, Scourge ignored the hulking man entirely.

It took a few minutes more for the bossun to unlock and unwrap the enshrouding chains and rap sharply on the lid of the box. "Let's just see how done this dinner is," Scourge shouted in his signature cant, "eh?" As he threw back the lid, the man's spidery fingers clenched tightly around the coils of his whip. Obviously, finding Badger unwell and unharmed was not high on his list of pleasures. Instead of lashing out, however, the man visably gathered himself and shrugged. "Not nearly done enough, I say."

Scourge slammed the lid of the sweat box himself, then jerked his coiled weapon in the general direction of his usual brand of adherents. As they jumped to with a will, the bossun turned to the rest of the gathered crew. His scowl deeped as he growled out, "Well? What are you waiting for? Eat up, my hearties! You'll need your strength tomorrow, you will!"


BadgerThe four sailors under Master Scourge's orders intend to lock you in the sweat box overnight, preventing you from taking nighttime ship's actions.

Lyneth, Brimble, VizkYou're free to loiter for a short while before going to dinner, but catching Master Scourge's attention would be detrimental at this point. After making the decision whether to take your rum ration or not, you each have night time ship action(s) available.
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Old Mar 27th, 2022, 12:05 AM
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Brimble Lightfinger



 

"Errnnngh!" He grunted as he pulled the final knot. Finally, he was threw with these blasted menial chores for the evening! Now on to more important business.

"Where are you?" Brimble muttered to himself as the cogs in his mind began to turn. His feet propelled him forward as his eyes darted back and forth, searching for one specific target.

He'd been keeping his eye out for specific members of the crew. The necessary components for his plan to rid himself of these menial tasks and put his magnificent mind to better use. Best to start with;

"Quartermaster Grok!" Brimble smirked.
Dice Bluff/Diplomacy Check:
1D20+5 (19)+5 Total = 24
"I was told you wanted to see me?"

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