• Make any rolls for skills, attack / damage, etc. in their own line. Use the dice roller! Example: Attack: 13 Slashing damage: 8 Example: Stealth: 13 Link to dice roller info: https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/d-d-beyond-general/play-by-post/2985-rolling-dice (The dice roller is quite sophisticated, but all you really need is in the little die icon in your toolbar when using a computer browser.)
It was a horrible night to end a horrible few weeks. Molo the kobold, Fianna the half-elf, and a halfling ship captain whose name you haven't learned, are among the many captives chained for nearly a month in the hold of a slave ship. They were beaten, underfed, and psychologically abused. Their destination was unknown to them.
At sunset last night, as a black and ominous storm approached, land was sighted – a low wall of cliffs to the north. Then night fell, and the first squalls struck. Hail pelted the side of the ship.
Prudent sailors would have tried to weather the storm away from the coast, but the slavers, for whatever reason, anchored dangerously close to shore – close enough that your characters could hear the boom of breakers in the distance. Then the storm hit, violently shaking the vessel with each growing swell. Fianna, shackled to the common chain near a small porthole, won a brief glimpse of a distant house high on a cliff, and a light blinking slowly and irregularly from an upper floor.
The storm worsened. Perhaps it was a freak wave that finally rent the ship asunder, but there was something else – something massive – that passed under the ship and produced a monstrous and unworldly bellow. Then the ship was smashed, the slaves’ chain snapped, and everyone was plunged into a black and icy cold sea.
Only three of the thirty or more slaves, and only two of the slavers' crew, survived the desperate swim to the rocky shore through violent, crashing waves in the black of night. Only distant lights far to the west helped orient them. Mostly it was just luck.
It is now twilight, just before dawn. The season is late autumn. It is cold and damp and grey. Your characters begin the day with only 2 hit points each, and one level of exhaustion, freezing, on the stony shore. Molo, Fianna, and the halfling captain each have a pair of shackles hanging from their right hand, freed at last from their chain. The survivors also include an elf and a boy – evidently members of the crew, although they are not among the sadistic thugs the slaves had become most familiar with.
Debris and cargo from the wreck litter the beach, together with the bodies of the dead. Your characters suspect they are marooned on the southern shores of a kingdom known as Keoland, far across the Azure Sea from their homes.
There are low buildings visible near the shore, perhaps a half-mile to the west. To the east, the cliffs rise and the rocky shore narrows. The smell of smoke hangs in the air, together with the boom of cold, angry breakers against the stony shorefront. Debris is everywhere, pounded by the surf.
Molo looks around at the wreckage washing ashore. “There has to be something there, right? I am looking.” And while he says that, it seems he’s waiting on someone else to go look first. Anyone who wants to go look through the debris will have help
Reed sits up, shivering. He looks at his surroundings, wondering for the thousandth time how in the depths of Avernus he ended up in this position. He'd had a ship, and steady, if a little dangerous (and not wholly legal) work. He cast a glance at the crew members and scowled. If he wasn't so exhausted, he'd throw them back in the sea. He stands up, trying to rub some feeling into his arm underneath the damned shackle he still had on his arm. Molo...Fianna...we'd better get moving. Dying on a beach ain't any better than dying in the sea. He gives one of the washed up bodies, a particularly cruel human, a few kicks to the ribs as he walks by. You got off easy, pal he mutters under his breath.
Sputtering and coughing the last of the water out of her lungs, Fianna looks from one to the other of her fellow captives looking to see if they need any immediate assistance which she probably couldn't provide anyway. "Get moving?" She says to Reed, a note of sarcasm in her voice. "Sure, but what about them?" She asks, suddenly turning her head and glaring at the two former captors. "Anyone coming off that ship without a chain upon them is guilty, ya ask me."
((How far away from us are Lucky and Pointy? What do they appear to be doing?))
Life isn't fair. In fact, life can be downright cruel at times. But here he was anyway, washed ashore on some desolate and unfamiliar shore, freezing cold and soaking wet in the cold light of pre-dawn. But alive. That was the main thing. The dead bodies strewn across the beach attested to the fact that he was one of the lucky ones. Lucky. His nickname from back on the streets of Greyhawk where he ran with the Rooftop Reavers gang.
His job had been break in and entry. He was a second storey boy, and damn good at it. He could squeeze into places others could not reach, and his guildmaster had taught him how to use a set of tools specialized for the job. But his nickname came from the way things always seemed to work out right for him. Olidammara himself blessed the boy, his gang members always said. His guildmaster questioned if he was Oliammara's avatar. Of course that was before they'd all been slaughtered by a rival gang. They were all dead too now. But not Lucky. He'd run and hidden of course; at fourteen he was in no way capable of going up against the bruisers from the Alley Rats, so he'd done what he was good at - broken into a cellar and hidden. He'd survived but he'd fled the city at the first opportunity.
So now, here he was. Lucky thinks back to the the nickname he'd earned on the streets of Greyhawk city, and truly wonders if he was touched. And was it a good thing or a curse?
Somewhere in the wreckage could be his stash, Lucky knows. It was tucked away in a secret spot in the bulkhead but the chances of finding it are tiny, he guesses. Anyway, it is worth a look. He begins to pick his way through the wreckage, searching for his stash, and looking for signs of survivors. If he spots any survivors he'll help in any way he can. If he finds his stash, he'll grab it and tuck it away in his cloak.
Anyone watching him would see a young boy, utterly out of his depth, desperately trying to make sense of his current situation. Probably he appears very scared but a prolonged study of his face would detect a deep resilience in the boy which was keeping him going.
He rolls his eyes, then glares at the boy and the elf again. You wanna deal with 'em, be my guest. I don't have the energy. All I know is, I smell smoke, which means fire, which means warmth. Wouldn't mind having a nip of somethin', either.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
Fianna gives a sideways whisper to Reed: "Don't want to deal with them, don't want them skulking behind us in the night either.."
"Hey! You two! Yeah, both of you!" Fianna shouts out at the two crew members. "Few enough of us survived. I've not a taste for more death so you have two choices... Run. Now. Far and fast and never let me see you again. Or two, prove your not the slaving scum you seem to be by helping us gather up everything of use we can here and finding some warmth and shelter... It's possible you were just clueless crew. So which is it?"
If either run off, Fianna will keep an eye on them until they are out of sight but otherwise let them. If one or either instead help then Fianna will introduce herself and engage them in conversation. Mainly pointing towards useful stuff she thinks they should drag ashore, telling them what to keep an eye out for ("My leather armor is precious to me. You'll know it 'cause it's dyed green... And my staff...") and asking them how they came to be aboard the ship. All this conversation more to judge their trustworthiness than anything else at this point.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Pointy
A tall, thin elf frantically searches through the wreckage, trying to keep his wet, salty black hair out of his face. He yells out, "Lucky my boy! Any sign of my footlocker?" He spies one floating and reaches out with a spectral hand to pull it ashore.
Hearing Fianna's voice, Lucky stops mid-stride and looks up. His eyes seem vacant and blank for a moment then he blinks and focuses on the half-elf further down the beach. Blinking again he shakes his head and then hurries over. He has a subservient, inferior look on his face, as you might expect from one so young. "Yes, master, anything you say, master," he intones rapidly, his voice one moment high pitched and then breaking to a deeper but still immature tone. "I was already looking for ... things, master," he finishes, quickly, eyes downcast. "I was just the cabin boy and lackey, master. I only joined the ship on this voyage to get away from some bad people back home. I had no idea they was such nasty folk or I'd never have hooked up with them. Honest."
Lucky looks back at Pointy back up the beach. "Oh, and he's harmless too, master. He's the quartermaster. He's one of the good guys. I think..."
"Ok, ok... But cut out the 'Master' stuff. Come on now, let's just drag anything that could be useful up above the shoreline. We can go through it later," Fianna says in a more soothing, but still stern tone of voice. Looking up the beach to Pointy she'll call out to him, "Good, use that hand to grab the big stuff, if you can! We want everything salvageable up above the shore line!"
While directing the others as best she can, Fianna also walks amongst them casting Prestidigitation as much as she can to clean them up and to warm up their clothes. (Dry them off as well, if that falls within spells scope.) Once everyone is as dry, clean and warm as she can make them, she will of course also be scavenging amongst whatever washes ashore and looking for anything worthwhile.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
He scans the surroundings, "Right, I don't think Pease and Bully made it, thank Sashelas. Call me Kelnan, please. I'm not even supposed to be here...". he grumbles and goes back to hunting. "I won't be able to do much other than this hand trick if we can't find my damned locker!"
(Don't forget your exhaustion - everyone has disadvantage on all ability checks until you get some food and rest. That includes perception checks, alas!)
A thin, cold drizzle begins to fall in the predawn gloom, as the surf pounds the rocky beach. Barrels, timbers, and the dead line the beach, bob offshore, and tumble in the dangerous waves. A large section of the stern is lodged, on its side, deep in a wedge of sand; you can hear the timbers creak and snap as the surf relentlessly pounds on it. Another large piece of the vessel is visible perhaps 100 yards offshore, not safely accessible under these conditions.
Molo spots several chests inside a hole in the stern. With a carefully timed dash to avoid the waves, and with a dextrous slide through an open hatch, Reed is able to access the flooded interior of the overturned stern. With the kobold's help, he is soon able to start passing items out of the hatch – it includes a half-dozen tarnished scimitars and an equal number of ratty-but-functional light crossbows, as well as most of Molo's, Reed's, and Fianna's missing equipment – Molo's paper is ruined, but his dulcimer is in perfect condition. Fianna's rations are spoiled with seawater. (With those exceptions, Molo, Reed and Fianna may have their full equipment/inventory accessible again.)
Pointy reels in a locker bobbing in the surf that looks familiar for a moment, but it is filled with dried, fermented fish, soaked with salt water. Not his. He also sees the body of the first mate, "Bully" - one of the most sadistic members of the pirate crew.
Lucky squints in the dim light, but sees nothing but turbulent water and a confusing jumble of timbers. He doesn't even know where to begin.
The sky is slowly beginning to lighten a little, and the drizzle tapers off to a light mist. You are all cold to the bone.
Fianna tries to dry and warm herself as well as the kobold and the halfling, once they finish emptying the stern compartment. It provides momentary comfort, but they soon resume being wet, cold, and miserable.
After scavenging amongst the wreckage and looting any bodies which may be close enough ashore, it's surely time to find some cover and get some rest. "Shall we head towards the buildings then?" Fianna asks, nodding to the west. "Whoever captained that ship was scum but I suppose we should tell some kind of officials about it wrecking?" She shrugs, not really sure. "If nothing else perhaps we can find someplace to sleep outside the weather..."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
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Sweet! Can't wait!
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
Ready
Paladin - warforged - orange
Ready and excited here!
My Homebrew World: The World of Rodinia
Novels Published: Reynard's Fate, Kita's Honour and Callindrill
It was a horrible night to end a horrible few weeks. Molo the kobold, Fianna the half-elf, and a halfling ship captain whose name you haven't learned, are among the many captives chained for nearly a month in the hold of a slave ship. They were beaten, underfed, and psychologically abused. Their destination was unknown to them.
At sunset last night, as a black and ominous storm approached, land was sighted – a low wall of cliffs to the north. Then night fell, and the first squalls struck. Hail pelted the side of the ship.
Prudent sailors would have tried to weather the storm away from the coast, but the slavers, for whatever reason, anchored dangerously close to shore – close enough that your characters could hear the boom of breakers in the distance. Then the storm hit, violently shaking the vessel with each growing swell. Fianna, shackled to the common chain near a small porthole, won a brief glimpse of a distant house high on a cliff, and a light blinking slowly and irregularly from an upper floor.
The storm worsened. Perhaps it was a freak wave that finally rent the ship asunder, but there was something else – something massive – that passed under the ship and produced a monstrous and unworldly bellow. Then the ship was smashed, the slaves’ chain snapped, and everyone was plunged into a black and icy cold sea.
Only three of the thirty or more slaves, and only two of the slavers' crew, survived the desperate swim to the rocky shore through violent, crashing waves in the black of night. Only distant lights far to the west helped orient them. Mostly it was just luck.
It is now twilight, just before dawn. The season is late autumn. It is cold and damp and grey. Your characters begin the day with only 2 hit points each, and one level of exhaustion, freezing, on the stony shore. Molo, Fianna, and the halfling captain each have a pair of shackles hanging from their right hand, freed at last from their chain. The survivors also include an elf and a boy – evidently members of the crew, although they are not among the sadistic thugs the slaves had become most familiar with.
Debris and cargo from the wreck litter the beach, together with the bodies of the dead. Your characters suspect they are marooned on the southern shores of a kingdom known as Keoland, far across the Azure Sea from their homes.
There are low buildings visible near the shore, perhaps a half-mile to the west. To the east, the cliffs rise and the rocky shore narrows. The smell of smoke hangs in the air, together with the boom of cold, angry breakers against the stony shorefront. Debris is everywhere, pounded by the surf.
Welcome to Saltmarsh.
Our Players:
Surviving Captives:
Molo - a kobold (played by Nschrock)
Fianna - a half-elf (played by Kaemgen)
Reed - a halfling (played by Mattan_Braddus)
Surviving Crew:
Lucky - a human boy (played by Blakey)
“Pointy” - an elf (played by Nurglich)
To be introduced:
Katernin - an Aasimar (played by BaconExpert982)
Molo looks around at the wreckage washing ashore.
“There has to be something there, right? I am looking.” And while he says that, it seems he’s waiting on someone else to go look first. Anyone who wants to go look through the debris will have help
Paladin - warforged - orange
Reed
Reed sits up, shivering. He looks at his surroundings, wondering for the thousandth time how in the depths of Avernus he ended up in this position. He'd had a ship, and steady, if a little dangerous (and not wholly legal) work. He cast a glance at the crew members and scowled. If he wasn't so exhausted, he'd throw them back in the sea. He stands up, trying to rub some feeling into his arm underneath the damned shackle he still had on his arm. Molo...Fianna...we'd better get moving. Dying on a beach ain't any better than dying in the sea. He gives one of the washed up bodies, a particularly cruel human, a few kicks to the ribs as he walks by. You got off easy, pal he mutters under his breath.
He looks through the wreckage with Molo:
perception 24
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
Fianna
Sputtering and coughing the last of the water out of her lungs, Fianna looks from one to the other of her fellow captives looking to see if they need any immediate assistance which she probably couldn't provide anyway. "Get moving?" She says to Reed, a note of sarcasm in her voice. "Sure, but what about them?" She asks, suddenly turning her head and glaring at the two former captors. "Anyone coming off that ship without a chain upon them is guilty, ya ask me."
((How far away from us are Lucky and Pointy? What do they appear to be doing?))
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Lucky.
Life isn't fair. In fact, life can be downright cruel at times. But here he was anyway, washed ashore on some desolate and unfamiliar shore, freezing cold and soaking wet in the cold light of pre-dawn. But alive. That was the main thing. The dead bodies strewn across the beach attested to the fact that he was one of the lucky ones. Lucky. His nickname from back on the streets of Greyhawk where he ran with the Rooftop Reavers gang.
His job had been break in and entry. He was a second storey boy, and damn good at it. He could squeeze into places others could not reach, and his guildmaster had taught him how to use a set of tools specialized for the job. But his nickname came from the way things always seemed to work out right for him. Olidammara himself blessed the boy, his gang members always said. His guildmaster questioned if he was Oliammara's avatar. Of course that was before they'd all been slaughtered by a rival gang. They were all dead too now. But not Lucky. He'd run and hidden of course; at fourteen he was in no way capable of going up against the bruisers from the Alley Rats, so he'd done what he was good at - broken into a cellar and hidden. He'd survived but he'd fled the city at the first opportunity.
So now, here he was. Lucky thinks back to the the nickname he'd earned on the streets of Greyhawk city, and truly wonders if he was touched. And was it a good thing or a curse?
My Homebrew World: The World of Rodinia
Novels Published: Reynard's Fate, Kita's Honour and Callindrill
Lucky.
Somewhere in the wreckage could be his stash, Lucky knows. It was tucked away in a secret spot in the bulkhead but the chances of finding it are tiny, he guesses. Anyway, it is worth a look. He begins to pick his way through the wreckage, searching for his stash, and looking for signs of survivors. If he spots any survivors he'll help in any way he can. If he finds his stash, he'll grab it and tuck it away in his cloak.
Anyone watching him would see a young boy, utterly out of his depth, desperately trying to make sense of his current situation. Probably he appears very scared but a prolonged study of his face would detect a deep resilience in the boy which was keeping him going.
Perception (+4): 19
My Homebrew World: The World of Rodinia
Novels Published: Reynard's Fate, Kita's Honour and Callindrill
Reed
He rolls his eyes, then glares at the boy and the elf again. You wanna deal with 'em, be my guest. I don't have the energy. All I know is, I smell smoke, which means fire, which means warmth. Wouldn't mind having a nip of somethin', either.
Back and ready to DM and chew bubblegum. And I'm alllll outta bubblegum.
Fianna
Fianna gives a sideways whisper to Reed: "Don't want to deal with them, don't want them skulking behind us in the night either.."
"Hey! You two! Yeah, both of you!" Fianna shouts out at the two crew members. "Few enough of us survived. I've not a taste for more death so you have two choices... Run. Now. Far and fast and never let me see you again. Or two, prove your not the slaving scum you seem to be by helping us gather up everything of use we can here and finding some warmth and shelter... It's possible you were just clueless crew. So which is it?"
Persuasion: 17
If either run off, Fianna will keep an eye on them until they are out of sight but otherwise let them. If one or either instead help then Fianna will introduce herself and engage them in conversation. Mainly pointing towards useful stuff she thinks they should drag ashore, telling them what to keep an eye out for ("My leather armor is precious to me. You'll know it 'cause it's dyed green... And my staff...") and asking them how they came to be aboard the ship. All this conversation more to judge their trustworthiness than anything else at this point.
Insight: 7
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
((Ack, forgot to highlight speech and such.. and don't want to edit and make the rolls possibly wonky. Will remember better next time.))
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Pointy
A tall, thin elf frantically searches through the wreckage, trying to keep his wet, salty black hair out of his face. He yells out, "Lucky my boy! Any sign of my footlocker?" He spies one floating and reaches out with a spectral hand to pull it ashore.
Perception: 12
Lucky.
Hearing Fianna's voice, Lucky stops mid-stride and looks up. His eyes seem vacant and blank for a moment then he blinks and focuses on the half-elf further down the beach. Blinking again he shakes his head and then hurries over. He has a subservient, inferior look on his face, as you might expect from one so young. "Yes, master, anything you say, master," he intones rapidly, his voice one moment high pitched and then breaking to a deeper but still immature tone. "I was already looking for ... things, master," he finishes, quickly, eyes downcast. "I was just the cabin boy and lackey, master. I only joined the ship on this voyage to get away from some bad people back home. I had no idea they was such nasty folk or I'd never have hooked up with them. Honest."
Lucky looks back at Pointy back up the beach. "Oh, and he's harmless too, master. He's the quartermaster. He's one of the good guys. I think..."
My Homebrew World: The World of Rodinia
Novels Published: Reynard's Fate, Kita's Honour and Callindrill
Fianna
"Ok, ok... But cut out the 'Master' stuff. Come on now, let's just drag anything that could be useful up above the shoreline. We can go through it later," Fianna says in a more soothing, but still stern tone of voice. Looking up the beach to Pointy she'll call out to him, "Good, use that hand to grab the big stuff, if you can! We want everything salvageable up above the shore line!"
While directing the others as best she can, Fianna also walks amongst them casting Prestidigitation as much as she can to clean them up and to warm up their clothes. (Dry them off as well, if that falls within spells scope.) Once everyone is as dry, clean and warm as she can make them, she will of course also be scavenging amongst whatever washes ashore and looking for anything worthwhile.
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Pointy
He scans the surroundings, "Right, I don't think Pease and Bully made it, thank Sashelas. Call me Kelnan, please. I'm not even supposed to be here...". he grumbles and goes back to hunting. "I won't be able to do much other than this hand trick if we can't find my damned locker!"
(Don't forget your exhaustion - everyone has disadvantage on all ability checks until you get some food and rest. That includes perception checks, alas!)
A thin, cold drizzle begins to fall in the predawn gloom, as the surf pounds the rocky beach. Barrels, timbers, and the dead line the beach, bob offshore, and tumble in the dangerous waves. A large section of the stern is lodged, on its side, deep in a wedge of sand; you can hear the timbers creak and snap as the surf relentlessly pounds on it. Another large piece of the vessel is visible perhaps 100 yards offshore, not safely accessible under these conditions.
Molo spots several chests inside a hole in the stern. With a carefully timed dash to avoid the waves, and with a dextrous slide through an open hatch, Reed is able to access the flooded interior of the overturned stern. With the kobold's help, he is soon able to start passing items out of the hatch – it includes a half-dozen tarnished scimitars and an equal number of ratty-but-functional light crossbows, as well as most of Molo's, Reed's, and Fianna's missing equipment – Molo's paper is ruined, but his dulcimer is in perfect condition. Fianna's rations are spoiled with seawater. (With those exceptions, Molo, Reed and Fianna may have their full equipment/inventory accessible again.)
Pointy reels in a locker bobbing in the surf that looks familiar for a moment, but it is filled with dried, fermented fish, soaked with salt water. Not his. He also sees the body of the first mate, "Bully" - one of the most sadistic members of the pirate crew.
Lucky squints in the dim light, but sees nothing but turbulent water and a confusing jumble of timbers. He doesn't even know where to begin.
The sky is slowly beginning to lighten a little, and the drizzle tapers off to a light mist. You are all cold to the bone.
Fianna tries to dry and warm herself as well as the kobold and the halfling, once they finish emptying the stern compartment. It provides momentary comfort, but they soon resume being wet, cold, and miserable.
Fianna
After scavenging amongst the wreckage and looting any bodies which may be close enough ashore, it's surely time to find some cover and get some rest. "Shall we head towards the buildings then?" Fianna asks, nodding to the west. "Whoever captained that ship was scum but I suppose we should tell some kind of officials about it wrecking?" She shrugs, not really sure. "If nothing else perhaps we can find someplace to sleep outside the weather..."
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop