[Game Thread] The Wormwood Mutiny

[zevonian]

"You take what was not first yours...from other ships, not your own. This is how those of Besmara should move. Yes?"

Skyfingers spoke to the sky, having identified the thief's wounds immediately just by upon looking them. He knew he couldn't survive such an ordeal. He offered no prayers for the newly dubbed shark bait, somehow he didn't think that would be right. Perhaps it was due to the reflection upon the goddess, perhaps he was just too tired.

The tiny pressgang victim stared at his fish stew for a second, as if it was staring back at him. Do they catch shark too? Do they eat their own here? He looked at the rum, and at the fish, and at the rum again.

"Blessed be the food before us, and gratitudes to those that prepare it." He traced a circle in the air, not even a quarter inch above the rim of the bowl in front of him. He repeated the process for the glass that was provided to him. One, two, three, four. A mental count passed before before he tried his meal.

"Excellent."

[Cidolfas]

Kaelan barely manages to hide his distaste for the evening’s show, nearly grimacing the entire time. It was important to show strength in front of the crew, but such events were likely the reason they had to find new pirates to man the vessel so often. The young man does not watch it all unfold, instead looking at the rest of those onboard to see how they took the spectacle. Eyes glancing from face to face he hopes to glean just a bit more about them from the situation.

From there he follows the others to eat and drink as told. Once everyone finishes he finishes his duties before heading off to find Sandara. The cook and quartermaster were friendly enough, but the young man full believes that she is the one who knew the pulse of the ship. Upon finding her he gives his kindest smile. "Nice to see you once more, my lady. You said you might have a bit more information for us later on, and I think now might work. Maybe we start by you telling me how you came aboard this fine vessel."

[RedMoon]

While the display of violence seemed unnecessary, Jeska didn't know what exactly the man was accused of. Stealing something? It was a grim reminder that she couldn't afford to get too out of line, or she could be next. No wonder they had to kidnap so many new recruits if this sort of thing happened daily. She would have to be careful to keep her temper in check, and not attract the wrong sort of attention to herself. After the grisly display, dinner went on as if it was usual business, and it seemed nobody had been put off of their meal by it. Perhaps they were just used to it. Sitting down for her meal, Jeska glanced down at the stew warily. It looked edible enough, though gods knew what they put in it. She glanced at Kaelan, who had helped with the food preparation, hoping he might provide some kind of warning if there was anything gruesome in it. Finally testing her courage, she set about eating.

The rum was a welcome treat, and she picked up the cup to drain it before hesitating with a frown. What did they mean captains orders? Childish and contrary as it was, Jeska didn't just... Take orders from piratical kidnappers, even if they were ordering her to drink. On that thought, however, her suspicion grew. What crew of sailors, especially pirates, had to be ordered to drink rum? No ship she had ever been on, that was for sure. Lowering the cup slightly, she cast her eyes about to see if anyone else was drinking, before sniffing at it, finally dabbling her finger in the liquid and pressing it to her tongue to see if she could detect anything abnormal in the scent or taste. She wasn't really an expert in these sorts of things, and she wanted to ask one of her 'companions' to check it over, but didn't want to risk attracting the attention. Deciding it better to be safe than sorry, she discreetly disposed of the contents of the cup, emptying it on to the already filthy floor.

Meal finished, she debated on her actions for the night. She still had something of a headache from the unpleasant way she had arrived, but there were more important things to do than sleep. Sandra had provided her with some information earlier, and she was curious to learn more, but Kaelan seemed to have already approached her. Perhaps it was better to try and integrate herself with the crew. People seemed to be gathering over some sort of game, gambling maybe. That seemed like a fair bet, so she made her way over to the gamblers to see what was going on.

 

Perception check - 16
Stealth Check (disposing of drink) - 12

Jeska will do some gambling.

[mountainbound]

Seeing the remnants of the man dragged up to the deck, all bloody and misshapen, Al-Muqtadir can't help but turn away. Violence was not for him, and wanton murder was even worse. Instead of looking upon the shredded man, the dervish studies those who delighted in his death. The captain, Plugg, Rosie, the Scourge, even Conch seemed overly interested in the scene. Then he looks at the other "volunteers" nearby -- if they were outraged, or disgusted, or even enjoying the spectacle, they hid it well. Probably wise on a ship like this.

And so the Camel endures the absurdities of the evening in a foul mood. When given the rum, he gives it a sniff, not certain he has the stomach for it. Lucky for him the ship's cat has taken a liking to him, and keep trying to jump on his lap. "What's your name, kitty? Are you the rat-slayer of this vessel? An important job..." He's able to pass the time and defer attention to himself by playing with the cat, waiting for the right moment to dispose of the alcohol.

It's only later, when he hears laughter and loud voices, that Al-Muqtadir regains heart enough to join the others. He finds a small circle of them talking over the entertainment of the evening: gambling of course, but what kind -- that was still being decided by the more experienced seadogs. Having nothing but the clothes on his back, Gemel simply watches, wondering what game of chance they'd finally choose.

OOC Activity: Gambling Will try and get rid of the rum whenever possible. Slight of Hand? Dice Roll: 1d20+3 (1)+3 Total = 4 Perception: Dice Roll: 1d20+5 (12)+5 Total = 17

[TheChuck]

Nori's face might as well be made of wood as much emotion he shows at the death of the thief. Killing is not something that Nori revels in by any means, but he is not so naive as to believe that it is never necessary. Though keelhauling a man for one act of thievery seems a bit excessive. It is possible that the man had tried it before and a simple lashing wasn't sufficient though, so Nori keeps his thoughts to himself for now.

Upon receiving his dinner plate and ration of rum the dirty little man is careful keep an eye on everyone else eating too. He notes the Besmara marked one waggling his fingers about over his drink, but doesn't recognize the spell being cast, and he sees the big man try to surreptitiously dispose of his rum. With a resigned shrug he uses the dram to wash down the last bites of the meal, and immediately regrets it. A roaring fire rips down his throat with the awful liquid and his vision blurs as tears spurt in short arcs from his eyes. Nori's face turns a red as the blood pouring out of the dead man earlier and a wheezing cough escapes his lips. After a full minute or so he begins to recover, at which point he looks around and nobody and says.

"Smooth." in a rough voice.

After that drink Nori is in no position to try to gamble or win anyone over, so he stumbles off to find himself a hammock below deck, promising himself that tomorrow night he'll start working on befriending the others.

[Tripod]

 

When you glance around you notice several people "spilling" their drinks or otherwise losing it. The chef and the quartermaster both seem to appreciate the grog, however.

Skyfingers successfully purifies his drink, taking a sip of the now pure water and getting a near shiver from the cool, clean liquid. The day's work was hard so the little cleric decided to go to sleep a little early, going down one level and finding an empty hammock and settling down for the night. Nori, however, took a big swig of the rum and had the strangest of experiences.

The rum has a unique taste: rotten seaweed mixed with the smell of an unwashed goblin. There's an aftertaste of boiled leather and underpants. Also, it burns not unlike the fire of the an ancient red dragon. In small drinkable form.

 

Take

Dice Roll:

d8

4

hours of fatigue (-2 on all checks for physical activities).

Needless to say the small druid decided to call it a night.

Kaelan approached Sandara who was speaking over her rum in a similar manner to Skyfingers before looking up and offering the young man a dazzlingly white smile. Propping on her elbows she nodded, resting her head on her hands. You sure don't waste time, eh? 's fine. I came upon this fine vessel not unlike you and the others. Twas just minding my business in port an I got maybe a little tipsier than a refined lady as myself should have," she answered with a snort. "I'm thinkin' they added something in there b'cause I can usually hold my spirits better than that. So how was yer first day?"

Meanwhile Al-Muqtadir plays with the small kitty cat (Mr. Tigerclaws, the collar says) but the moment he tries to get rid of the rum Master Scourge looms behind him. "I hope that isn't you getting rid of the Captain's own rum," he said, a small scar of a smile creeping on his face under the black scraggly beard. "The first offense is the rope bash, whelp. We'll see you at Blood Hour tomorrow!" he said laughing in his disgusting way. He raised his voice to let the whole crew know: "The Camel found the Captain's rum wasn't good enough for him, so he'll be getting the rope tomorrow! Let this be a warnin' to ya!"

After that fiasco, the Camel and Jeska both moved over to where the laughing came from only to see a fat balding man and a yellow skinned half-orc arm wrestling. Several members of the crew were dropping coins on the table betting on who they thought would win. The fat man seemed to be winning against the half-orc for only a moment before the orc put all his effort into a last ditch push, shoving the human's hand down. It bears mentioning here that this wasn't a normal game of arm wrestling... to make it 'fun' shards of glass, nails and small blades were scattered on each side of the table meaning whoever lost would lose a bit of comfort as well as dignity. The yellowed orc stood up and roared in victory while the fat man grimaced and sulked off, wrapping his arm in a bandage. Several crewmen swore and tossed money down letting the orc take his money for winning. With a full bag of gold he turned to the Camel and Jeska, gave them a once over and smirked, his bottom tusks poking out prominently. "What? You wanna go?"

 

If you want to try your luck it's an opposed Strength check with a monetary bet. You have whatever gold you were left with after buying equipment.

[zevonian]

A portion of the rum turned water was still on his chin when the little one politely excused himself from the festivities. Skyfingers was off to visit slumberland. He chose his nocturnal placement, and the time to claim it, as well as he could. Having a sailor for a father meant knowing some things from a very early age. Sonny, if you have words for anyone in a room, you have them before the first man goes to sleep. With aged wisdom in mind, he stood by a hammock and waited for others to say yay or nay in regards to his taking of it before climbing in.

"Prayers now." He knew he would get a few looks, some of them unkind.

"To Besmara." He knew he uttered the one name that scalawags would pay heed to.

"Join me?" He knew that the men would oblige, if not with accepting words, then at least unbedrudging silence.

He pressed his red, right hand over his chest, just under his throat. His thumb was placed under his shirt. He thought not that crewmen could see the holy symbol underneath his clothes. But if they did, they would see that the blotchy hand resembled the symbol to an uncanny degree.

"Blessed be those who obeyed their Captain's wishes. Those were ready every hour, should the unwanted to try to board this majestic vessel. May the Pirate Queen look after all who are worthy. May the burns of ropes and the pains of the day be soothed. May this be so that all who are worthy can tend to task in the morrow." As every sentence he uttered came to an end, his free hand pointed, for the briefest of moments, to a different man that minded what he was saying.

Those that thought of him well, for that minute anyway, felt sweet relief as cuts and scrapes upon each of them faded slightly. Skyfingers had no more words. He just used the last of his strength for the hour to climb into what passed for a bed.

 

Channel Energy, with only folks that minded the prayers considered allies for this power's usage.

Dice channel:

1d6

6

Unless hassled by fellow bunkmates, consider that his activities for the night.

[mountainbound]

Mr. Tigerclaws (a.k.a. "Snoogums") makes for an amiable companion, enabling Al-Muqtadir to appear to be engrossed with playing with the cat while scanning the scene for an opportune time to get rid of the spirits. The dervish's timing is thrown off, however, by a gassy leviathan swimming several hundred feet below the ship, whose belch creates an unnaturally large wave, which sends an unusually robust splash of sea-foam up onto the deck, which causes one of the crew (who had already partaken of the captain's rum) to slip and fall headlong into a pile of ropes, which startles two rats hiding under the coils, which catches the attention of the aforementioned ship's cat, Mr. Tigerclaws, who, upon seeing the rats suddenly springs up and over the Camel at the very moment Al-Muqtadir has chosen to dispose of the liquor. And of course, who should be standing not far behind, but everybody's friend, Master Scourge.

"Ahhh, rats," is about all the Camel can muster in reply as Scourge describes the beating he's to receive in the morning. At least he'll be sober for it.

To rid his mind of returning again and again to his imminent beating, Al-Muqtadir rises and joins Jeska to watch a few seadogs lock fists to arm wrestle.

When the green-skinned half-orc shouts his challenge, the Camel points to himself, "Me? Well, I've never tried it before. But if you lose, does your arm get all cut up? Looks painful." Rethinking his desire to try to gamble, sensing it will only cause misfortune, the Camel takes a step back. But like a bum on the street, once you make eye contact with a half-orc, there's no getting away from him. "Er, OK then," Al-Muqtadir says, sitting down on the empty barrel and rolling up his puffy sleeve.

Looking to Jeska he laments, "Sadly I have nothing to wager, except these wooden beads. Perhaps you do? Ah well..." Throwing caution to the wind, he plants his elbow and locks fists with the half-orc. "May the blessings of the Ever-Loving Omnipresent Creator give you courage," Al-Muqtadir tells his opponent in a most compassionate tone. "For I fear it may be most embarrassing for one of your kind to have your arm bloodied by a simple holyman like myself, so you must take heart. But I promise you I am skilled at salves and balms to sooth your inevitable pain after our match."

OOC STR check: 24

[Tripod]

Skyfingers made his way down into the crew quarters where Nori had already laid down to sleep off the rotten rum. There was already a few crewmen standing around chatting, some of them putting equipment in their lock boxes or just milling about. As the little cleric came down to pray, a few glanced up with a frown but did not interrupt him. One or two of them actually bowed their heads. The healing energy that flowed off of him made one gentleman, a fat bald man with recent cuts up and down his arm, feel much better. Not that he acted like he appreciated it.

Meanwhile back up in the Middle Deck with the rest of the crew, Jeska and the Camel both watched as the arm wrestling competition continued. "That's right, there ain't no backin' up now and if there ain't no pain, it ain't worth doin' in my estimation!" the yellowed orc cried. "Jape puts twenty that he'll break the Camel on the first night!" the orc said, dropping a small bag on the counter that jangled as it hit. He sat and locked his hand with the holy man and...

.................

Next thing he knew his arm was deep in a pile of blades and glass, sharp pointy things poking his leather like skin like no one's business. He yelped in pain and let go of the Camel's hand and stood up, holding his arm close to his body, the blood seeping into his shirt. "'ey! He cheated! I... Ah wasn't ready!" he said, only to received laughter from the others. The other crew men and women were clasping Al-Muqtadir on the shoulder and congrats as he came away from the gambling encounter unscathed. Actually, twenty gold richer, as well.

[mountainbound]

As the half-orc flees the scene and the men disperse, Al-Muqtadir looks to Jeska, a half-smile on his face. "I told him to take courage. He didn't believe me."

[Tripod]

The rest of the night passed with little fanfare. A few of the other crewman patted The Camel on the back, some gave him cheerful words but the rest filtered their way around. The night grew late and little by little the crew fell into the Lower Decks to get a few hours of sleep before the morning, and more work, came.

Day 2

The next morning starts only slightly less pleasantly than the previous one, with a loud ringing bell instead of Master Scourge's gold toothed smile. Those that weren't already awake got up at the sound of the bell, most people changing clothes (which in some cases is a terrible sight, but hey we're all friends here). As people start to mill up to the Main Deck, your group of newcomers seem to congregate together before moving up. Before you can climb the stairs, four crewmen stop you with a grin. Before you stands a... well... admirable set of people: a fat balding man, the yellowed half-orc that the Camel bested in arm wrestling, a big eared woman with lots of jewelry, and a skinny woman with two different sized eyes and a maniacal grin. The fat man shoved the person in front and grinned, cracking his knuckles, "Not in a hurry, I hope?"

[mountainbound]

The smell of below decks burning in his nose, the Camel is ready to fill his lungs with some fresh sea air. Despite an impending scourging, he was anxious to get above decks and see the sun. As he goes to climb the steep set of stairs leading to the main deck, a shadow falls across the salt-crusted boards. What's this? I thought I'd have a nice, simple scourging to start my day. Now what?

Rudely shoved backward, he bounces into Nori, standing behind him. "Hurry? No, why hurry when it is always now?" Taking in the crew standing above (especially the half-orc and his bandaged arm), it looked like trouble was a-brewin. "But I would like to go above decks, the smell down here is quite offensive." Keeping calm, he draws upon his practice, readying his energies in case push comes to shove. Then again, they were already at shove. ...Readying his energies In case the thing after shove should happen. In the dim, it's almost impossible to see two smoky gray motes extend out from Al-Muqtadir's hands. "May we pass, good friends?"

OOC Manifesting mindblades. Total Defense (+4 AC = 21) for this round.

[zevonian]

Skyfingers was awake well before dawn. He crept above deck and then stared at the ocean. An early riser was what he had become, well before this voyage. For a full candlemark, the little man looked out at the water, from boat's end to the horizon, and whispered. Prayers to, and beseechments of the Pirate Queen. Besmara's name was stated several times, no other names were mentioned. All the while, his arm was outstretched, allowing his red, right hand to be seen from the crow's nest.

Skyfingers went back below, only to run in to, almost literally, one of his fellow recent pressgang victims. There were kind words exchanged, along with a couple stifled yawns. Soon, more of the newest crew members had gathered, and more talk broke out amongest them.

"Good morning to you, all, may Besmara see you work well today, and we all avoid a keeling." These were his last words before he heard folks approaching. All were now recgonizable, but he could not think of a single name of any memeber of the quartet now blocking their path to topside activities.

The little man gave a smile. He placed his crimson colored hand over his non-birthmarked paw, some sort of greeting or prayer, and gave a nod. "I would like for us all to view the dawn." He dropped his hands, looked at the fat man, and continued to smile. "Could you please...step aside for us? Dawn's light is a flee-ting." It was bold of Skyfingers to talk this way, but the morning was just too nice for the other kidnappees to miss.

[RedMoon]

Jeska grit her teeth and growled in irritation, her fingers clenching in to fists as they were confronted. Her hand went to her blade, but of course found it absent. How frustrating. She supposed beating the pirates with her fists would work, and would be immensely satisfying. Still, she wasn't as skilled unarmed as she was with a blade, much as she loathed to admit it. It might call unwanted attention, but if things went sour, she would lead with some magic, she decided. Fortunately, she had spent some time memorizing a few choice spells, and began running through the mental list. Given the narrow, close-quarters situation, a well-placed Color Spray might daze and bewilder their opponents... At which point she could set upon them and enjoy punching their teeth out.

She was tempted to simply attack first, but, her companions seemed like they wished to try and negotiate first. Suppressing another growl of irritation, she simply kept her fists clenched and remained silent, glaring at the pirates. Hopefully brawling wasn't an offense worth getting keel hauled.

[TheChuck]

Nori doesn't look like much in a fight, and he likes to use that to his advantage. Huddling in the corner the druid tries to keep out of the eyes and minds of the four thugs. Of course, he is preparing a simple attack should the need arise, and a keen observer might see the energy beginning to flicker in his hidden right hand and that his eyes are not those of one scared, but of one planning.

OOC Ready an action to use Storm Burst if/when the thugs attack.