Getting off the wagon, Vaken takes in the sight of his new home. He knew little about ships but he knew he liked the looks of this one. Vaken wasted no time finding where he'd be staying and stowing his belongings. The he rushed to find the kitchen. Wait, he's on a ship, it's a galley here. He'd have to remember that.
Once in his galley, Vaken started familiarizing himself with the locations of everything as well as getting a feel for what all he had to work with. The galley was smaller than at the Prancing Pirate of course, and things were fixed to the floors and walls in a way that wasn't done on land, but it was his galley.
Finally, he could work an honest trade during the day and be able to study the nature found in the sea during his down time. He would continue his journey of becoming a Skywatcher. Maybe the new ship's mage could even teach him a thing or two, he wondered.
Getting off the wagon, Vaken takes in the sight of his new home. He knew little about ships but he knew he liked the looks of this one. Vaken wasted no time finding where he'd be staying and stowing his belongings. The he rushed to find the kitchen. Wait, he's on a ship, it's a galley here. He'd have to remember that.
Once in his galley, Vaken started familiarizing himself with the locations of everything as well as getting a feel for what all he had to work with. The galley was smaller than at the Prancing Pirate of course, and things were fixed to the floors and walls in a way that wasn't done on land, but it was his galley.
Finally, he could work an honest trade during the day and be able to study the nature found in the sea during his down time. He would continue his journey of becoming a Skywatcher. Maybe the new ship's mage could even teach him a thing or two, he wondered.
'Finding the galley much the way that he'd hoped and expected it to be, the still sore and now thoroughly cramped Vaken's small exploration is interrupted by a demanding shout coming from the open archway leading back into the much larger crews' quarters.'
"Where is he? Who? The cook, you dullard! What, he's in the galley... down there? Well of course he is! Where else would he be. Err, as you were then."
'A moment later the be-spectacled face and bulbous nose of an otherwise rodent-faced halfling man pokes into the galley, swivels about and, upon spotting the rather enormous, though distinctly hunched over, cook, says,'
"Ahh, there you are! Ship's Cook Vegan, isn't it? I'm the ship's Quarter Master, Mr. Daegrin, though you can call me... well, Mr. Daegrin. Or Quarter Master. Either will do just fine.
My, my, the Bosun wasn't wrong on this at least - you are a big one, aren't you. Though I suppose as long as you can feed us all without giving us the barfs or squirts, your size doesn't matter none. You can cook, can't you?"
'Despite the cramped confines, the halfling rather comically cranes his neck to peer up at the goliath as he holds out a handful of stapled together sheets of paper.'
"Here's your list of current ship stores. We're provisioned for a month, but stocked for her full complement, so we've ample food per mouth. If the ledger's skinnier than you like, or missing anything... anything reasonable mind, then let me know and i'll speak with Horgoth tomorrow, though the man ain't no real ship's chandler, least not like I'm used to dealing with.
Of course, the First Mate or Captain will have to approve any additional requisitions."
'As Vaken glances over the sheets of paper, Daegrin turns to leave, calling out,'
'And you'd best fire up that stove, friend cook. That lot up above will want a LOT of whatever it is you plan to feed them. Some of them are already getting rowdy, so the Bosun said to look after the crew first and to bring up the meal for the Captain's table afterwards.'
[OOC] Vaken can read the below spoiler:
'Ship Stores of the Caravel Shore Shark - Provisioned in the town of Rumbottom by purchase from Horgoth's Stores and Salvage, 16th Kythorn, 1492 DR
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
... then make his way back to the Shore Shark and start learning the ship. He will guide his hands along the panels in his cabin, work his way out until he finds himself gliding them across the rails on the deck of the ship.
He will find his way to the Navigator's room and see him working with his tools and leave him in silence. On the deck he sees the Master of Sails hard at work checking the rigging and lines, so he will sit around enjoying the day going over sketches in his tablet.
His father said with his power he may be able to forge something special. Something that is needed and unseen on the seas. He starts drawing the tubes which the magics would spew forth, the legs of the contraption shaped like large cat paws. The design was complicated, but its actions would prove invaluable to this ship. Especially if they couldn't find a healer.
As the evening came, he could hear more and more of the crew come on board. He would stick to himself, his nose in his book. Flipping pages back and forth and realizing that maybe he could have more than one design. Everything was starting to click, but he just had to figure out how to conjure such a thing. Hours have gone by and he had four (4) pages full of pictures and notes. All wrote in his gnomish side-scrawl.
His hands were smudged from the ink of his quill and the lead from his pencil, he didn't seem to notice or even care. What he was creating would change how things were made in this world. If he could perfect this, and teach it to others... how many ships would want one on board every vessel? This was a gamechanger and one that he was going to keep to himself until he was sure it was something that could be done. First, he actually had to do it. First, he has to see if he was as smart as he was hoping he was.
'By the time Virt has returned from Yentil's the first half of the crew has returned from their crossbow training. The artificer sees a variety of sailors loading crates and barrells from the wharf, or walking the length of the ship in awe or bringing their, for the most part meagre, possessions aboard. Quarter Master Daegrin's imperious voice can be heard shouting to sailors about the proper way to stow barrells in a ship's hold. To the side of the gangplank, one over-weight, bald-headed, tattoo covered half-orc appears to be giving a young man, barely more than a boy really, a tatoo across the upper part of his left arm.
After seeing his fellow officers about their work, the tall Ship's Mage begins his sketches, finding a nice (relatively) quiet spot atop the foredeck, leaning with his back againt the mangonel, facing aft-wards, looking back down the length of the ship toward the distant quarter deck and ships wheel. Virt's long legs are dangling above the main deck, his head buried in his sketch book, with most of the crew giving the obviously preoccupied arcanist a wide berth, when a gruff voice barks out almost in the artificers ear,'
"Argh, you shouldn't be leaning on the darned catapult... don't you tall folk know anythin'! Bah, accidently move her an inch one way or the other and... *SPLASH* ... we're bombin' fishheads instead of blastin' pirates!"
'Turning to see who has interrupted his ruminations, Virt spies a rotund and well weathered, red-headed dwarf in faded studded leather, with a wild-shock of upswept hair and a tangled mustache and beard so bushy they completely hides his mouth. The fellow is currently kneeling on the foredeck, squinting with one eye as he peers along the edges of the mangonel's base.'
The loudness of the mans voice carried itself inside Virtoris’s head and all the way to his very core. He jumped back away from the mangonel and stood up quickly, almost losing his note OOG and pencil into the water below.
“I‘m sorry, I was being careful,” he says to the bushy faced dwarven fellow. “Also, I was taking inspiration from this archaic weapon system. It’s beautiful, these antiques. They have a certain air to them, the things they’ve done. Now, after all these years, so to be replaced by progress and technology. I even the end of its life cycle, to have made such an impact and to have one last hooray in thes waning moments.”
Virtoris the Blue speak in hushed tones as he talks to the dwarf, respecting this war machine for the relic that it was. He rubbed his hands together and got them warm before gracefully tracing the outline of the mangonel.
“My name is Virtoris the Blue. Friends and family call me Virt, nice to meet you.” He stretches his hand out to the dwarf, smudged with pencil and ink. “Are you an officer on board as well?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"...Debts must always be paid, sometimes in more than blood and gold. But this is Ordo Ursa," Ren places his hand on Erakas's chest, right where the Dragonborn's heart is. "Right here. And it always has been and always will be. Don't ever forget that. Because I won't."
Serandis Mendaen (Aereni Elven Rogue/maybe one day Wizard)- Project Point Playtest
Vaken was lost in thought when this loud and rushed seeming halfling comes into the galley. As Vaken listened to him talk he couldn't help but get a little excited too."My first official conversation as ship's cook!"he thought to himself.
"Nice to be making your acquaintance Mr. Daegrin. I'm Vaken,"He said, stressing his name just a bit in hopes the halfling would get it right the next time.
When the quartermaster showed him the inventory of the ship stores he was blown away. He'd never had so much at his disposal before. After going over the list Vaken looks back over to the quartermaster,"Quartermaster sir, this looks very good. I assume the meats are all salted and not live, correct? I know some of the vessels that set in buy farm animals to butcher later when the fresh meat has run out, and I'm ok with that ifins it's the case. I just want to make sure to know what I'm dealing with. As for additional supplies, I'd like to get some milk if I could. Not a whole lot, but enough for the officers breakfasts for the first few days. Also, there's no mention of herbs and spices. While the food is fresh we won't need much, but as the days go by you're going to want me to try to hide the aged tastes of things. Doesn't have to be fancy, just a good deal of it. Particularly, I'd like some thyme, sage, rosemary, mace, and pepper but I'm also open to anything else you find."
Taking a breath, Vaken looked back at the halfling and continued on,"Now I want to be honest with you Mr. Daegrin. This is my first time as a ship's cook so I'm well aware that there are probably some things I don't know. But I have spoken with a few other cooks and a whole mess of pirates recently to help prepare for this. Now, it's my understanding that ships usually only have two meals a day and they follow a pattern with Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday being fish days, Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday being beef/red meat days; and Monday being the Bacon or Pork day. Could you tell me if this is how you all have been doing it and if not, is this something the officers would approve of?"
'As the evening deepens into night, the wind continues to blow hard onto ship and shore alike, occassionally whistling through the Shark's bare rigging or causing one of the now mostly drunken sailor's caps cartwheeling across the deck. Despite the stiff breezes, flickering torches burn bright alone the wharf beside the caravel, where more than of the dozen crew sit on a circle of makeshift crate-chairs singing shanties and *clanging* mugs together. A handful of hopefulls are crowded around the rotund half-orc tattoo artist, who seems to be sending a fairly steady line of sailors back to their drinks more-or-less happy with their new skin-art.
Aboard the Shark, the lantern-lit shipwarming party has grown even more boisterous, with the sounds of singing, crying, laughing and arguing echoing back from all quarters of the vessel. The Bosun's earlier announcement to the crew that this would be the last night of unrestricted drinking on the Captain's coin had almost sobered up a goodly portion of suddenly dismayed sailors... until they'd all realised that time was of the essence. Crew with a thirst for grog (which seemed to be most of'em) now attacked the casks, barrells and kegs that had been brought down from the Prancing Pirate to the docks with renewed vigour. As well as the common sounds of singing all about, familiar accordian music could be heard playing from the docks, while aboard an unknown sailor was blowing a harmony-anchor - one of the small metal wind instruments used by many of the Shore's Islanders to joyous or mournful effect.
While struggling against the gusting winds and the ever present scent of sea-salt, the enticing smells of cooked meats, spiced stew and fresh bread can be detected wafting up from below deck. Everywhere you look, small groups of crew can be seen doing other activities besides merely drinking, whether playing cards, tossing dice, diving off the ship or wharf, or simply telling tall tales to one another... though, of course, many of these sailors are doing such while drinking. After the Bosun has spoken earlier, the First Mate loudly declared that the Captain would be speaking to the entire assembled crew tonight before the moon passed high spar. The First Mate's announcement had met with general cheer and good natured aclaim, but for now, the men and women of the Shark planned to make gay while the rum flowed.'
[OOC] Everyone make perception checks and depending on your scores you may look at the relevant spoilers:
DC10:
'Everywhere you look, happy sailors can be seen and heard clapping each other on the back, pledging mateship and to watch out for each other on the journeys ahead. When the officers names or titles come up, heads are nodded in agreeable recognition and mugs are raised in good-natured salute... except perhaps regarding the ship's Weapons Master, who more than a few sailors mention quietly in dread... but only after quickly looking over their shoulders. Good Captain Aundrey, however, is given particular praise, with the general sentiment of the crew seemingly one of great favour towards their new boss.
From within the bowels of the Shark's hold, cheers and jeers can be heard echoing up towards the salt-scented sky above. The sounds of fist *smacking* flesh and the accompanying *grunts* can be just heard above the yelling and shouting,'
"I've got two-to-one on the half-orc! Who wants me coin?!"
"Bloody hells! Look at the size of that fella, woulds ya!"
"Don''t just stand there, Yunst, *SMASH* the big dummy!"
DC15:
'On the docks, a number of townsfolk seem to have wandered down to observe the wharf party or even mingle with the sailors. Over here, a number of rum-refinery and farm workers are drinking and swaping stories with sailors. Over there, four guardsman in the livery of the Dubol are gambling with crew members. Moving amongst the gathered townsfolk and sailors, the heads of the Pirate's two barmaids can be glimpsed.
To one side of the larger gatherings on the docks, the Captain, First Mate and Bosun can be seen speaking with a curly-headed gnome. By the wild gesticulations of the Dwarf Drannick and the calming motions of both the Captain and First Mate, it appears that not all are in agreement.'
DC20:
'From unused store rooms and the hammock-clustered crew quarters below deck, you catch the unmistakable and barely discrete sounds of more intimate merry-making. While obsessive trysts and open-displays of affection whilst on duty are very much frowned upon, age old maritime tendancies towards shipmate intimacy appear to already be manifesting among the Shark's crew.
Standing upon the open deck amidst the jovial cacophany of the party around you, you spot a lone pale-faced cloaked figure standing at the distant end of the wharf, seeming to look in the Shark's direction before turning back towards the sea. Shrouded in an all-concealing black cloak, with its back turned and far from the nearest torch or lantern, the form is almost indistinguishable from the night around it.'
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
A’ro had been sitting at the table for roughly fifteen minutes before realizing that he was a little early. He just decides to head back to the cart and grab two mugs of alcohol ‘Guess I’ll apologize first then’ he thought to himself as he began to weave through the sailors looking for Kay. Finally, after a little searching he sees her watching the storm and walks up next to her.
“Beautiful isn’t it – how free it is to do what it will. I envy it in that way.” He just holds the mug of alcohol out to her “An apology drink, it was really just meant as a prank. I should’ve known better.” He just waited to see if she would accept his apology or not before continuing the conversation.
The loudness of the mans voice carried itself inside Virtoris’s head and all the way to his very core. He jumped back away from the mangonel and stood up quickly, almost losing his note OOG and pencil into the water below.
“I‘m sorry, I was being careful,” he says to the bushy faced dwarven fellow. “Also, I was taking inspiration from this archaic weapon system. It’s beautiful, these antiques. They have a certain air to them, the things they’ve done. Now, after all these years, so to be replaced by progress and technology. I even the end of its life cycle, to have made such an impact and to have one last hooray in thes waning moments.”
Virtoris the Blue speak in hushed tones as he talks to the dwarf, respecting this war machine for the relic that it was. He rubbed his hands together and got them warm before gracefully tracing the outline of the mangonel.
“My name is Virtoris the Blue. Friends and family call me Virt, nice to meet you.” He stretches his hand out to the dwarf, smudged with pencil and ink. “Are you an officer on board as well?”
'The barrel-shaped dwarf nods his head and climbing to his feet, puts his hand out to shake VIrt's hand,'
"Argrin's the name and hittin' things hard and from afar is me game. What? No, I ain't no durned officer. I'm a gunner and somethin' of an engineer, least I'm considered such up in Ironmaster where I hail from.'
'Argin's eyes never leave the mangonel as he speaks to you, but suddenly his brow furrows and his eyes scrunch up as he says, as though belatedly realising the meaning of your earlier words,'
"Archaic... replaced by... last hooray in the what now? HEY! You're talkin' about Hurly ain't ya! You sayin' that she ain't gonna work or blast pirates like I said she will?"
'The now borderline furious dwarf is standing beside 'Hurly' glaring up at you with both oil stained fists planted on his considerably wide hips.'
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
Vaken was lost in thought when this loud and rushed seeming halfling comes into the galley. As Vaken listened to him talk he couldn't help but get a little excited too."My first official conversation as ship's cook!"he thought to himself.
"Nice to be making your acquaintance Mr. Daegrin. I'm Vaken,"He said, stressing his name just a bit in hopes the halfling would get it right the next time.
When the quartermaster showed him the inventory of the ship stores he was blown away. He'd never had so much at his disposal before. After going over the list Vaken looks back over to the quartermaster,"Quartermaster sir, this looks very good. I assume the meats are all salted and not live, correct? I know some of the vessels that set in buy farm animals to butcher later when the fresh meat has run out, and I'm ok with that ifins it's the case. I just want to make sure to know what I'm dealing with. As for additional supplies, I'd like to get some milk if I could. Not a whole lot, but enough for the officers breakfasts for the first few days. Also, there's no mention of herbs and spices. While the food is fresh we won't need much, but as the days go by you're going to want me to try to hide the aged tastes of things. Doesn't have to be fancy, just a good deal of it. Particularly, I'd like some thyme, sage, rosemary, mace, and pepper but I'm also open to anything else you find."
Taking a breath, Vaken looked back at the halfling and continued on,"Now I want to be honest with you Mr. Daegrin. This is my first time as a ship's cook so I'm well aware that there are probably some things I don't know. But I have spoken with a few other cooks and a whole mess of pirates recently to help prepare for this. Now, it's my understanding that ships usually only have two meals a day and they follow a pattern with Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday being fish days, Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday being beef/red meat days; and Monday being the Bacon or Pork day. Could you tell me if this is how you all have been doing it and if not, is this something the officers would approve of?"
'The halfling turns back around, as though surprised that the big cook had spoken up. Craning his neck to once again look the enormous Vaken in the eye, Daegrin says,'
"What's that? Milk... for breakfast? What's wrong with hard meat and bread? Is this something that the Mate or Bosun asked you for, you know, for our esteemed Captain?
And spices... well, to be honest Vegan, I had noticed that there was no salt or pepper on the bill of loading, which I thought mighty strange despite all the meat being good-and-proper-dead-and-salted. So at the very least, I'll ask Horgoth to add salt and pepper to the order, though I'm not too sure about the rest. Of course, you're welcome to come with me yourself, though I'll be leaving right early.
And as for what you choose to cook and when, well that ain't up to me, that's up to the ship's cook... which just so happens to be you, Vegan. Don't worry, if the other officers and crew don't like what you're making, I'm sure that you'll hear about it right quickly.
But as for the rest of it, I ain't ever had no ships cook ask me for no sages or maces before. What kind of meals you planning anyway?"
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
'Kay jumps back from the railing when A'ro approaches, waking her from her reverie. It takes her a moment to remember where she is and with whom, and she smiles, punching him in the arm gently. She takes the drink from his hand and turns so that she's resting with her elbows on the rail.' "May have been that I overreacted. No harm done... A'ro. I..."
'She stops mid-speech as her eyes catch Lorena, moving through the crowd on the docks below. She downs the mug in one fluid motion, and then scans for Lorena in the crowd once more, but out of the corner of her eye catches something else, possibly more sinister. Her piercing orange eyes narrow as she focuses on the cloaked figure. She absentmindedly hands the mug back to A'ro.' "D'ya, see that? A figure in a dark cloak on the edge of the wharf..."
'She heads for the gangplank saying softly to A'ro.' "Apologies, Mast... A'ro. If you'll excuse me."
'She disembarks, and tries to hide herself in the crowd, trying to make her way toward the cloaked figure without alerting it to her presence vanishing among her peers.'
A’ro just chuckles as she punches him in the arm gently and takes the drink “That’s good.”
He watches her down the mug and blinks, an impressive move it is wasn’t for the weird actions afterwards. He just looks around “There are a bunch of people in cloaks all over Kay. Stay and celebrate with your shipmates.”
He just watches her move to the gang plank worried if he should follow her, but by the time his mind was made up he couldn’t see her amongst the people ‘Shit…I hope she’ll be alright’.
He stands there blinking as he takes a sip of his drink “I guess I’ll drink alone then…”
A’ro just chuckles as she punches him in the arm gently and takes the drink “That’s good.”
He watches her down the mug and blinks, an impressive move it is wasn’t for the weird actions afterwards. He just looks around “There are a bunch of people in cloaks all over Kay. Stay and celebrate with your shipmates.”
He just watches her move to the gang plank worried if he should follow her, but by the time his mind was made up he couldn’t see her amongst the people ‘Shit…I hope she’ll be alright’.
He stands there blinking as he takes a sip of his drink “I guess I’ll drink alone then…”
[OOC] Since Kay has pointed out to A'ro that she spotted a figure at the end of the wharf, you can make another perception check if you'd like to.
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
'Kay jumps back from the railing when A'ro approaches, waking her from her reverie. It takes her a moment to remember where she is and with whom, and she smiles, punching him in the arm gently. She takes the drink from his hand and turns so that she's resting with her elbows on the rail.' "May have been that I overreacted. No harm done... A'ro. I..."
'She stops mid-speech as her eyes catch Lorena, moving through the crowd on the docks below. She downs the mug in one fluid motion, and then scans for Lorena in the crowd once more, but out of the corner of her eye catches something else, possibly more sinister. Her piercing orange eyes narrow as she focuses on the cloaked figure. She absentmindedly hands the mug back to A'ro.' "D'ya, see that? A figure in a dark cloak on the edge of the wharf..."
'She heads for the gangplank saying softly to A'ro.' "Apologies, Mast... A'ro. If you'll excuse me."
'She disembarks, and tries to hide herself in the crowd, trying to make her way toward the cloaked figure without alerting it to her presence vanishing among her peers.'
'Moving unheard from the ship to the dock is not difficult for the light-footed woman, especially in light of the loud activity happening all around. Most of the sailors on the ship who aren't gambling or diving near-naked into the harbour, are gravitating noisely towards the open hold's hatch, around which a large gathering of crew are holding small coin pouches whilst shouting down into the yawning opening at their feet. Moving adeptly down the gangplank, Kay spots Lorana briefly through the throng as the half-elven barmaid *giggles* at something one of the Dubol's armsmen is saying. Lorana hands the man a tankard receiving a silver piece in return, before nimbly dancing away from the man's other grasping hand. Kay loses sight of the barmaid when the rogue looks back towards the end of the wharf and continues moving in that direction.
Stepping beyond the crowd and stacks of yet unloaded crates and boxes, leaving the wider section of the wharf behind to step out onto a longer, narrower pier, Kay finds herself only fifty feet from where she can see the vague outline of the cloaked form. Walking towards the figure across the open expanse of planking, Kay realises that her approach is unlikely to be heard as the wind's howl and the crash of waves against nearby exposed rocks all but drowns out her own sharp hearing. While not raining, the near-constant wind driven sea-spray acts to cloak the rogue in a dense, cold mist. Now a mere fifteen feet away from the figure, Kay can now see that the figure is thin and smallish, standing no taller than five-foot six, though the form maybe hunched against the almost stinging ocean-spray. As the rogue steps within ten feet of whoever or whatever is standing there, an airy and distant female voice calls out,'
"If you mean to attack me, then know that I have no gold on me... and you should probably have brought more men..."
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
'Kay stops in her tracks as the figure speaks looking confused and a little bit embarrassed at having been caught. Even at five and a half feet, the figure is a head taller than Kay, and although her words speak warning, something about her tone makes Kay relax slightly.'
"Attack? No, m'lady that was not my intention. I'm only investigating a mysterious figure, shrouded and nigh invisible in the cold dark."
'Kay shifts into a more casual stance, but keeps her distance, not wanting to test the taller woman.'
"Are you a member of the crew? Apologies if we've already met, I've been meeting a lot of people since last night and it's hard to remember everyone. M'name's Kaitlyn by the by, called Kay by most..."
'Kay stops in her tracks as the figure speaks looking confused and a little bit embarrassed at having been caught. Even at five and a half feet, the figure is a head taller than Kay, and although her words speak warning, something about her tone makes Kay relax slightly.'
"Attack? No, m'lady that was not my intention. I'm only investigating a mysterious figure, shrouded and nigh invisible in the cold dark."
'Kay shifts into a more casual stance, but keeps her distance, not wanting to test the taller woman.'
"Are you a member of the crew? Apologies if we've already met, I've been meeting a lot of people since last night and it's hard to remember everyone. M'name's Kaitlyn by the by, called Kay by most..."
'The woman does not turn around, though pale ringed hands lift from the folds of the cloak briefly to adjust the hood as a particularly strong gust threatens to blow it from the stranger's head. That seemingly distant voice again, with an almost ephemeral quality to it,'
"No Kay, we have not yet met. I would remember if we had, as would you. People in these parts call me memorable... among other things.
And you...This morning I listened among the townsfolk of a brave young woman who almost sacrificed all for her pride and the aid of strangers. As the sun rose high over a hillock outside of town, I listened as that same young woman again almost gave all she was and would ever be in a fight against dark foes. And again this brave little one did so to aid those she hardly knows.
Such deeds are not common in this place, young Kay. Those who perform such deeds do not stay here long. They leave... or they die. As you will, one day soon, I imagine. Still, we may yet come to know one another, even if for only the briefest of moments in this world."
'As the wind howls in from the South West carrying the taste of rock and salt, the woman finally turns in Kay's direction, though Kay instinctively almost wishes that she had not. The fair, smooth skin of the womans hands is not reflected in her face... or what remains of it. A pink and red mass of burnt scar tissue dominates the whole of this stranger's face, her nose and lips all but burnt away and two white orbs barely visible amidst the scarred crevaces of her visage. A tangled flow of bright red hair falls from her head, framing the otherwise horrific disfigurement of her countenance. 'Staring' directly at Kay for a moment, the woman then lowers her head, murmmuring in her clear but disconnected voice,'
"Fear not, Kay. I am no monster come to attack a brave young defender of the Shore. No, I am no monster... not yet, at least."
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
'Kay does her best to govern her emotions, or at least what is shown on her face. It would be comical in other circumstances. She moves to take the woman's hands gently in her own, if the taller woman allows it, throwing back her own cowl as she approaches.'
"I... my lady forgive me. I did not mean to stare. I'm just a simple urchin from Fireshear. You speak of bravery... but I am neither brave, nor good... I... at times I feel I'm only acting out of fear of my own death. But... what happened to your... your... you? Is... is there anything that can be done?"
'Kay is crouched closer to the cloaked woman, doing her best to look her in the eyes with compassion. Kay's orange eyes shine bright in the moonlight, and are full of mixed emotions. How long had she been disfigured in this way? And how much she must have suffered with out anyone to look upon her face? Why must the world be so mercilessly cruel?'
The loudness of the mans voice carried itself inside Virtoris’s head and all the way to his very core. He jumped back away from the mangonel and stood up quickly, almost losing his note OOG and pencil into the water below.
“I‘m sorry, I was being careful,” he says to the bushy faced dwarven fellow. “Also, I was taking inspiration from this archaic weapon system. It’s beautiful, these antiques. They have a certain air to them, the things they’ve done. Now, after all these years, so to be replaced by progress and technology. I even the end of its life cycle, to have made such an impact and to have one last hooray in thes waning moments.”
Virtoris the Blue speak in hushed tones as he talks to the dwarf, respecting this war machine for the relic that it was. He rubbed his hands together and got them warm before gracefully tracing the outline of the mangonel.
“My name is Virtoris the Blue. Friends and family call me Virt, nice to meet you.” He stretches his hand out to the dwarf, smudged with pencil and ink. “Are you an officer on board as well?”
'The barrel-shaped dwarf nods his head and climbing to his feet, puts his hand out to shake VIrt's hand,'
"Argrin's the name and hittin' things hard and from afar is me game. What? No, I ain't no durned officer. I'm a gunner and somethin' of an engineer, least I'm considered such up in Ironmaster where I hail from.'
'Argin's eyes never leave the mangonel as he speaks to you, but suddenly his brow furrows and his eyes scrunch up as he says, as though belatedly realising the meaning of your earlier words,'
"Archaic... replaced by... last hooray in the what now? HEY! You're talkin' about Hurly ain't ya! You sayin' that she ain't gonna work or blast pirates like I said she will?"
'The now borderline furious dwarf is standing beside 'Hurly' glaring up at you with both oil stained fists planted on his considerably wide hips.'
"No disrespect, master dwarf. I am the Shore Shark's new resident mage, and it is me duty to make sure that we are using the best systems at hand. The mangonel is beautiful, a classic. The work that it will do on these voyages, hunting dem pirates. I can't wait to see one in action." Virt leans against the railing and looks down at the dwarf and back up at Hurley, "Argrin, aye? And an engineer ye say? I may be able to use yer expert mind to help me craft new weapons systems fer this here ship. Have ye ever thought about what is the next evolution of ship to ship warfare? Fer how many of years have ye fought the same way, using the same systems against these feckless bastards who ply their trade of robbery and thievery on the seas?"
Standing straight up, Virt walks past the dwarf and looks back towards the town. He sees the stillness of the small town, how placid the buildings are with smoke coming from their chimneys. This was a place to call home, a place for safety. But if they failed at their jobs, then who would protect these good people?
Virt turns around and squats down so that he is almost face-to-face with Argrin, "Help me do better. Help me design and make something that will not only stoke fear in de heart o' e'ery pirate on the seas but will cement our names in the history books of our people. A dwarven engineer should be there to make the best weapon on the seas. Some o' the best engineers in me eyes this world knows."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"...Debts must always be paid, sometimes in more than blood and gold. But this is Ordo Ursa," Ren places his hand on Erakas's chest, right where the Dragonborn's heart is. "Right here. And it always has been and always will be. Don't ever forget that. Because I won't."
Serandis Mendaen (Aereni Elven Rogue/maybe one day Wizard)- Project Point Playtest
'Kay does her best to govern her emotions, or at least what is shown on her face. It would be comical in other circumstances. She moves to take the woman's hands gently in her own, if the taller woman allows it, throwing back her own cowl as she approaches.'
"I... my lady forgive me. I did not mean to stare. I'm just a simple urchin from Fireshear. You speak of bravery... but I am neither brave, nor good... I... at times I feel I'm only acting out of fear of my own death. But... what happened to your... your... you? Is... is there anything that can be done?"
'Kay is crouched closer to the cloaked woman, doing her best to look her in the eyes with compassion. Kay's orange eyes shine bright in the moonlight, and are full of mixed emotions. How long had she been disfigured in this way? And how much she must have suffered with out anyone to look upon her face? Why must the world be so mercilessly cruel?'
'The scarred woman's cowled head remains low, though her white orbs briefly flick up to meet those of her young conversationalist, almost as though they are still capable of sight. Despite the blindness clearly apparent in that gaze, there is something in those eyes, an expression, an understanding perhaps... A brief smile touches the stranger's lips, as one long-fingured hand emerges from the voluminous folds of her cloak to casually indicate her face,'
"Worry not about offending this outcast woodswoman, sweet girl. I am well past caring of such things. And no, there is nothing that can be done... or at least nothing that should be done.
And humble beginnings do not mark one forever, my dear. You are brave, Kay, though it is our actions which truly brand us as such. As brave... or good. Your denial means no more than the opposite assertions of our good lady, the Dubol.
Enjoy your time with your new shipmates and companions, Kay. Though the wise mark carefully the oft and easily overlooked distinction. Now if you will excuse me, I must retire for the evening. While not old, I find I tire easily these days and I have much work to do tomorrow. Farewell, Kay. Till we meet again."
'Reaching out to lightly pat Kay upon the shoulder as she passes, the strange woman moves up the pier towards the seemingly-distant revelry, though her form quickly fades into the darkening night and wind-blown sea-spray.'
[OOC] Kay can make a perception and insight check. If her revelant scores meet or surpass the DCs below, you may read the relevant spoilers:
Perception DC 10:
'Catching glimpses of the woman's hands, you notice that they are thin and pale, bedecked by odd misshapen rings of wood, bone and coral. The tips of her fingers appear slightly stained a green/black colour.'
Perception DC 15:
'As the stranger passes close, reaching out to pat your shoulder, you catch a whiff of an unfamiliar scent, or scents, like a profusion of wildflowers, spices and herbs. The aroma disssapears quickly, snatched away by the gusting winds.'
Insight DC 15:
'That look... despite the sightlessness of those orbs, there is expression and emotion in that glance. Beyond the all-too-apparent sadness, you sense a well-hidden bitterness and perhaps someting more... though the contact is broken too quickly for you to be entirely certain.
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
'Stunned by the cloaked woman's words of wisdom, Kay stands frozen, still looking out at the sea for but a moment, but that's all that's needed. By the time she turns and begins to say,' "But wait, I... didn't catch your name..."'The woman is already gone, and Kay's words are lost amidst the crashing of the waves against the shore. Kay holds her stomach, still aching and bruised, which makes it hurt all the more as it rumbles, reporting her ravenous hunger. She starts back toward the gangplank, looking out both for food and for beautiful Lorana, her orange eyes looking almost feral, as she pushes through the crowd.'
"No disrespect, master dwarf. I am the Shore Shark's new resident mage, and it is me duty to make sure that we are using the best systems at hand. The mangonel is beautiful, a classic. The work that it will do on these voyages, hunting dem pirates. I can't wait to see one in action." Virt leans against the railing and looks down at the dwarf and back up at Hurley, "Argrin, aye? And an engineer ye say? I may be able to use yer expert mind to help me craft new weapons systems fer this here ship. Have ye ever thought about what is the next evolution of ship to ship warfare? Fer how many of years have ye fought the same way, using the same systems against these feckless bastards who ply their trade of robbery and thievery on the seas?"
Standing straight up, Virt walks past the dwarf and looks back towards the town. He sees the stillness of the small town, how placid the buildings are with smoke coming from their chimneys. This was a place to call home, a place for safety. But if they failed at their jobs, then who would protect these good people?
Virt turns around and squats down so that he is almost face-to-face with Argrin, "Help me do better. Help me design and make something that will not only stoke fear in de heart o' e'ery pirate on the seas but will cement our names in the history books of our people. A dwarven engineer should be there to make the best weapon on the seas. Some o' the best engineers in me eyes this world knows."
'Argrin grimaces noticeably as Virt reveals his status as Ships Mage, but smiles at the compliment to Hurley, before nodding enthusiastically when the much taller man begins to discuss weapons systems,'
"Oh aye, you'll see her in action right soon, I'm hopin', 'long with meself! I've not fired her yet of course, bein' as new to the ship as yerself, though I've fired and helped build others akin to her.
What do you think of her name? Hurley, because she hurls things, ya know, throwin' stuff. Get it? HA! I thought about Chuck, but she's too pretty to be a fella.
I don't know 'bout 'avin no 'expert mind', but I'm durned handy with me hands. Don't know 'bout no ship-to-ship evolutions neither... that some kind of hybrid paddle-boat? Seen me a riverboat once, ya know. Enough to make a sailor dizzy that paddle-wheel of hers was - evolution after evolution after evolution.
You're right on the anvil 'bout dwarves bein' best at engineerin' though. And if'n you're lookin' to make somethin' that'll put the fear of Moradin in pirate scum, then i'm like to be listenin to what you're proposin'!"
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
'Stunned by the cloaked woman's words of wisdom, Kay stands frozen, still looking out at the sea for but a moment, but that's all that's needed. By the time she turns and begins to say,' "But wait, I... didn't catch your name..."'The woman is already gone, and Kay's words are lost amidst the crashing of the waves against the shore. Kay holds her stomach, still aching and bruised, which makes it hurt all the more as it rumbles, reporting her ravenous hunger. She starts back toward the gangplank, looking out both for food and for beautiful Lorana, her orange eyes looking almost feral, as she pushes through the crowd.'
'Kay's search for Lorana across the noisy and crowded dock feels both familiar and welcoming after her strange encounter with the disfigured woman. The raucous laughter, colourful insults and ribald innuendo are a tonic to the puzzled woman's somewhat disquieted spirit, even if the lean sail monkey is bumped and jostled repeatedly as she weaves her way through the tangled mass of drinking, gambling and story telling sailors. Spotting Beril first, Kay watches as the usually business-like woman brazenly flirts with one of the Dubol's guardsmen, leaning into the man as she passes him a tray full of drinks in return for a handful of coins. Running her hand across another guard's shoulders, the unusually beguiling Beril winks and calls out coyly at a nearby sailor, who laughs as he nods, tossing the barmaid a small pouch which dissapears into the woman's loosely laced bodice.
Returning to a make-shift bar made of a couple of planks lain across two hefty kegs, Beril spots Kay and calls out,'
"Ho there, young Kay. Ye look like the kitten searchin' for its milk bowel, ye do. And I'm thinkin' that I know the cream that you're lookin' for, if'n ye take my meanin'!"
'Beril gives the waif a suggestive but gentle wink and kind smile as she nods to the distant street end of the dock, where Kay can just make out the back of a cart loaded with casks and flagons, from which a laughing and singing Lorana is busily dispensing beverages for coin. In a not-dissaproving tone, Beril remarks,'
"She's a lovely lass, and not much older than yerself, If'n me eyes read the truth of things. And I'm not one to get in the way of honest affections, no I'm surely not. Sure'as Vergil's brain is naught but rotmoss, Lorana could do worse than spend time in yer delightful company, lest that's what I'm thinkin'. But if'n we're to make the most of this rare opportunity, and by we I mean herself and meself, then I'm afraid we've little time for dalliances, lest not while there's throats to wet and coins to be gathered."
'Seeing the dissapointment dawning across Kay's face, Beril just loads her tray with another four flagons, gives a light almost wistful laugh and continues,'
"But as'in she's mentioned to me a number of times a heart's desire to stand upon a great ship beneath a star speckled sky, I'm reckonin' that after all is said'n done out here, and business is put to bed so to speak, then Ms Lorana would be greatly inclined she would to visitin' with a certain newly signed sailor upon a certain newly chartered ship."
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
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Getting off the wagon, Vaken takes in the sight of his new home. He knew little about ships but he knew he liked the looks of this one. Vaken wasted no time finding where he'd be staying and stowing his belongings. The he rushed to find the kitchen. Wait, he's on a ship, it's a galley here. He'd have to remember that.
Once in his galley, Vaken started familiarizing himself with the locations of everything as well as getting a feel for what all he had to work with. The galley was smaller than at the Prancing Pirate of course, and things were fixed to the floors and walls in a way that wasn't done on land, but it was his galley.
Finally, he could work an honest trade during the day and be able to study the nature found in the sea during his down time. He would continue his journey of becoming a Skywatcher. Maybe the new ship's mage could even teach him a thing or two, he wondered.
Campaigns:
DM - Waterdeep Dragon Heist PbP
'Finding the galley much the way that he'd hoped and expected it to be, the still sore and now thoroughly cramped Vaken's small exploration is interrupted by a demanding shout coming from the open archway leading back into the much larger crews' quarters.'
"Where is he? Who? The cook, you dullard! What, he's in the galley... down there? Well of course he is! Where else would he be. Err, as you were then."
'A moment later the be-spectacled face and bulbous nose of an otherwise rodent-faced halfling man pokes into the galley, swivels about and, upon spotting the rather enormous, though distinctly hunched over, cook, says,'
"Ahh, there you are! Ship's Cook Vegan, isn't it? I'm the ship's Quarter Master, Mr. Daegrin, though you can call me... well, Mr. Daegrin. Or Quarter Master. Either will do just fine.
My, my, the Bosun wasn't wrong on this at least - you are a big one, aren't you. Though I suppose as long as you can feed us all without giving us the barfs or squirts, your size doesn't matter none. You can cook, can't you?"
'Despite the cramped confines, the halfling rather comically cranes his neck to peer up at the goliath as he holds out a handful of stapled together sheets of paper.'
"Here's your list of current ship stores. We're provisioned for a month, but stocked for her full complement, so we've ample food per mouth. If the ledger's skinnier than you like, or missing anything... anything reasonable mind, then let me know and i'll speak with Horgoth tomorrow, though the man ain't no real ship's chandler, least not like I'm used to dealing with.
Of course, the First Mate or Captain will have to approve any additional requisitions."
'As Vaken glances over the sheets of paper, Daegrin turns to leave, calling out,'
'And you'd best fire up that stove, friend cook. That lot up above will want a LOT of whatever it is you plan to feed them. Some of them are already getting rowdy, so the Bosun said to look after the crew first and to bring up the meal for the Captain's table afterwards.'
[OOC] Vaken can read the below spoiler:
'Ship Stores of the Caravel Shore Shark - Provisioned in the town of Rumbottom by purchase from Horgoth's Stores and Salvage, 16th Kythorn, 1492 DR
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
The loudness of the mans voice carried itself inside Virtoris’s head and all the way to his very core. He jumped back away from the mangonel and stood up quickly, almost losing his note OOG and pencil into the water below.
“I‘m sorry, I was being careful,” he says to the bushy faced dwarven fellow. “Also, I was taking inspiration from this archaic weapon system. It’s beautiful, these antiques. They have a certain air to them, the things they’ve done. Now, after all these years, so to be replaced by progress and technology. I even the end of its life cycle, to have made such an impact and to have one last hooray in thes waning moments.”
Virtoris the Blue speak in hushed tones as he talks to the dwarf, respecting this war machine for the relic that it was. He rubbed his hands together and got them warm before gracefully tracing the outline of the mangonel.
“My name is Virtoris the Blue. Friends and family call me Virt, nice to meet you.” He stretches his hand out to the dwarf, smudged with pencil and ink. “Are you an officer on board as well?”
"...Debts must always be paid, sometimes in more than blood and gold. But this is Ordo Ursa," Ren places his hand on Erakas's chest, right where the Dragonborn's heart is. "Right here. And it always has been and always will be. Don't ever forget that. Because I won't."
Serandis Mendaen (Aereni Elven Rogue/maybe one day Wizard)- Project Point Playtest
Vaken was lost in thought when this loud and rushed seeming halfling comes into the galley. As Vaken listened to him talk he couldn't help but get a little excited too. "My first official conversation as ship's cook!" he thought to himself.
"Nice to be making your acquaintance Mr. Daegrin. I'm Vaken," He said, stressing his name just a bit in hopes the halfling would get it right the next time.
When the quartermaster showed him the inventory of the ship stores he was blown away. He'd never had so much at his disposal before. After going over the list Vaken looks back over to the quartermaster, "Quartermaster sir, this looks very good. I assume the meats are all salted and not live, correct? I know some of the vessels that set in buy farm animals to butcher later when the fresh meat has run out, and I'm ok with that ifins it's the case. I just want to make sure to know what I'm dealing with. As for additional supplies, I'd like to get some milk if I could. Not a whole lot, but enough for the officers breakfasts for the first few days. Also, there's no mention of herbs and spices. While the food is fresh we won't need much, but as the days go by you're going to want me to try to hide the aged tastes of things. Doesn't have to be fancy, just a good deal of it. Particularly, I'd like some thyme, sage, rosemary, mace, and pepper but I'm also open to anything else you find."
Taking a breath, Vaken looked back at the halfling and continued on, "Now I want to be honest with you Mr. Daegrin. This is my first time as a ship's cook so I'm well aware that there are probably some things I don't know. But I have spoken with a few other cooks and a whole mess of pirates recently to help prepare for this. Now, it's my understanding that ships usually only have two meals a day and they follow a pattern with Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday being fish days, Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday being beef/red meat days; and Monday being the Bacon or Pork day. Could you tell me if this is how you all have been doing it and if not, is this something the officers would approve of?"
Campaigns:
DM - Waterdeep Dragon Heist PbP
'As the evening deepens into night, the wind continues to blow hard onto ship and shore alike, occassionally whistling through the Shark's bare rigging or causing one of the now mostly drunken sailor's caps cartwheeling across the deck. Despite the stiff breezes, flickering torches burn bright alone the wharf beside the caravel, where more than of the dozen crew sit on a circle of makeshift crate-chairs singing shanties and *clanging* mugs together. A handful of hopefulls are crowded around the rotund half-orc tattoo artist, who seems to be sending a fairly steady line of sailors back to their drinks more-or-less happy with their new skin-art.
Aboard the Shark, the lantern-lit shipwarming party has grown even more boisterous, with the sounds of singing, crying, laughing and arguing echoing back from all quarters of the vessel. The Bosun's earlier announcement to the crew that this would be the last night of unrestricted drinking on the Captain's coin had almost sobered up a goodly portion of suddenly dismayed sailors... until they'd all realised that time was of the essence. Crew with a thirst for grog (which seemed to be most of'em) now attacked the casks, barrells and kegs that had been brought down from the Prancing Pirate to the docks with renewed vigour. As well as the common sounds of singing all about, familiar accordian music could be heard playing from the docks, while aboard an unknown sailor was blowing a harmony-anchor - one of the small metal wind instruments used by many of the Shore's Islanders to joyous or mournful effect.
While struggling against the gusting winds and the ever present scent of sea-salt, the enticing smells of cooked meats, spiced stew and fresh bread can be detected wafting up from below deck. Everywhere you look, small groups of crew can be seen doing other activities besides merely drinking, whether playing cards, tossing dice, diving off the ship or wharf, or simply telling tall tales to one another... though, of course, many of these sailors are doing such while drinking. After the Bosun has spoken earlier, the First Mate loudly declared that the Captain would be speaking to the entire assembled crew tonight before the moon passed high spar. The First Mate's announcement had met with general cheer and good natured aclaim, but for now, the men and women of the Shark planned to make gay while the rum flowed.'
[OOC] Everyone make perception checks and depending on your scores you may look at the relevant spoilers:
DC10:
'Everywhere you look, happy sailors can be seen and heard clapping each other on the back, pledging mateship and to watch out for each other on the journeys ahead. When the officers names or titles come up, heads are nodded in agreeable recognition and mugs are raised in good-natured salute... except perhaps regarding the ship's Weapons Master, who more than a few sailors mention quietly in dread... but only after quickly looking over their shoulders. Good Captain Aundrey, however, is given particular praise, with the general sentiment of the crew seemingly one of great favour towards their new boss.
From within the bowels of the Shark's hold, cheers and jeers can be heard echoing up towards the salt-scented sky above. The sounds of fist *smacking* flesh and the accompanying *grunts* can be just heard above the yelling and shouting,'
"I've got two-to-one on the half-orc! Who wants me coin?!"
"Bloody hells! Look at the size of that fella, woulds ya!"
"Don''t just stand there, Yunst, *SMASH* the big dummy!"
DC15:
'On the docks, a number of townsfolk seem to have wandered down to observe the wharf party or even mingle with the sailors. Over here, a number of rum-refinery and farm workers are drinking and swaping stories with sailors. Over there, four guardsman in the livery of the Dubol are gambling with crew members. Moving amongst the gathered townsfolk and sailors, the heads of the Pirate's two barmaids can be glimpsed.
To one side of the larger gatherings on the docks, the Captain, First Mate and Bosun can be seen speaking with a curly-headed gnome. By the wild gesticulations of the Dwarf Drannick and the calming motions of both the Captain and First Mate, it appears that not all are in agreement.'
DC20:
'From unused store rooms and the hammock-clustered crew quarters below deck, you catch the unmistakable and barely discrete sounds of more intimate merry-making. While obsessive trysts and open-displays of affection whilst on duty are very much frowned upon, age old maritime tendancies towards shipmate intimacy appear to already be manifesting among the Shark's crew.
Standing upon the open deck amidst the jovial cacophany of the party around you, you spot a lone pale-faced cloaked figure standing at the distant end of the wharf, seeming to look in the Shark's direction before turning back towards the sea. Shrouded in an all-concealing black cloak, with its back turned and far from the nearest torch or lantern, the form is almost indistinguishable from the night around it.'
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
A’ro had been sitting at the table for roughly fifteen minutes before realizing that he was a little early. He just decides to head back to the cart and grab two mugs of alcohol ‘Guess I’ll apologize first then’ he thought to himself as he began to weave through the sailors looking for Kay. Finally, after a little searching he sees her watching the storm and walks up next to her.
“Beautiful isn’t it – how free it is to do what it will. I envy it in that way.” He just holds the mug of alcohol out to her “An apology drink, it was really just meant as a prank. I should’ve known better.” He just waited to see if she would accept his apology or not before continuing the conversation.
Campaigns:
Wildemount: The Felderwin Irregulars (2020) - Balassar Silverstone - Dragonborn Fighter (Rune Knight) Lv. 5 | Rise of TIamat - Aiwin Aralana - Wood Elf Fighter/Ranger (Arcane Archer/Gloom Stalker) Lv. 9
'The barrel-shaped dwarf nods his head and climbing to his feet, puts his hand out to shake VIrt's hand,'
"Argrin's the name and hittin' things hard and from afar is me game. What? No, I ain't no durned officer. I'm a gunner and somethin' of an engineer, least I'm considered such up in Ironmaster where I hail from.'
'Argin's eyes never leave the mangonel as he speaks to you, but suddenly his brow furrows and his eyes scrunch up as he says, as though belatedly realising the meaning of your earlier words,'
"Archaic... replaced by... last hooray in the what now? HEY! You're talkin' about Hurly ain't ya! You sayin' that she ain't gonna work or blast pirates like I said she will?"
'The now borderline furious dwarf is standing beside 'Hurly' glaring up at you with both oil stained fists planted on his considerably wide hips.'
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
'The halfling turns back around, as though surprised that the big cook had spoken up. Craning his neck to once again look the enormous Vaken in the eye, Daegrin says,'
"What's that? Milk... for breakfast? What's wrong with hard meat and bread? Is this something that the Mate or Bosun asked you for, you know, for our esteemed Captain?
And spices... well, to be honest Vegan, I had noticed that there was no salt or pepper on the bill of loading, which I thought mighty strange despite all the meat being good-and-proper-dead-and-salted. So at the very least, I'll ask Horgoth to add salt and pepper to the order, though I'm not too sure about the rest. Of course, you're welcome to come with me yourself, though I'll be leaving right early.
And as for what you choose to cook and when, well that ain't up to me, that's up to the ship's cook... which just so happens to be you, Vegan. Don't worry, if the other officers and crew don't like what you're making, I'm sure that you'll hear about it right quickly.
But as for the rest of it, I ain't ever had no ships cook ask me for no sages or maces before. What kind of meals you planning anyway?"
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
'Kay jumps back from the railing when A'ro approaches, waking her from her reverie. It takes her a moment to remember where she is and with whom, and she smiles, punching him in the arm gently. She takes the drink from his hand and turns so that she's resting with her elbows on the rail.' "May have been that I overreacted. No harm done... A'ro. I..."
'She stops mid-speech as her eyes catch Lorena, moving through the crowd on the docks below. She downs the mug in one fluid motion, and then scans for Lorena in the crowd once more, but out of the corner of her eye catches something else, possibly more sinister. Her piercing orange eyes narrow as she focuses on the cloaked figure. She absentmindedly hands the mug back to A'ro.' "D'ya, see that? A figure in a dark cloak on the edge of the wharf..."
'She heads for the gangplank saying softly to A'ro.' "Apologies, Mast... A'ro. If you'll excuse me."
'She disembarks, and tries to hide herself in the crowd, trying to make her way toward the cloaked figure without alerting it to her presence vanishing among her peers.'
perception : 20 from PM
stealth : 17
~♡~
A’ro just chuckles as she punches him in the arm gently and takes the drink “That’s good.”
He watches her down the mug and blinks, an impressive move it is wasn’t for the weird actions afterwards. He just looks around “There are a bunch of people in cloaks all over Kay. Stay and celebrate with your shipmates.”
He just watches her move to the gang plank worried if he should follow her, but by the time his mind was made up he couldn’t see her amongst the people ‘Shit…I hope she’ll be alright’.
He stands there blinking as he takes a sip of his drink “I guess I’ll drink alone then…”
Campaigns:
Wildemount: The Felderwin Irregulars (2020) - Balassar Silverstone - Dragonborn Fighter (Rune Knight) Lv. 5 | Rise of TIamat - Aiwin Aralana - Wood Elf Fighter/Ranger (Arcane Archer/Gloom Stalker) Lv. 9
[OOC] Since Kay has pointed out to A'ro that she spotted a figure at the end of the wharf, you can make another perception check if you'd like to.
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
'Moving unheard from the ship to the dock is not difficult for the light-footed woman, especially in light of the loud activity happening all around. Most of the sailors on the ship who aren't gambling or diving near-naked into the harbour, are gravitating noisely towards the open hold's hatch, around which a large gathering of crew are holding small coin pouches whilst shouting down into the yawning opening at their feet. Moving adeptly down the gangplank, Kay spots Lorana briefly through the throng as the half-elven barmaid *giggles* at something one of the Dubol's armsmen is saying. Lorana hands the man a tankard receiving a silver piece in return, before nimbly dancing away from the man's other grasping hand. Kay loses sight of the barmaid when the rogue looks back towards the end of the wharf and continues moving in that direction.
Stepping beyond the crowd and stacks of yet unloaded crates and boxes, leaving the wider section of the wharf behind to step out onto a longer, narrower pier, Kay finds herself only fifty feet from where she can see the vague outline of the cloaked form. Walking towards the figure across the open expanse of planking, Kay realises that her approach is unlikely to be heard as the wind's howl and the crash of waves against nearby exposed rocks all but drowns out her own sharp hearing. While not raining, the near-constant wind driven sea-spray acts to cloak the rogue in a dense, cold mist. Now a mere fifteen feet away from the figure, Kay can now see that the figure is thin and smallish, standing no taller than five-foot six, though the form maybe hunched against the almost stinging ocean-spray. As the rogue steps within ten feet of whoever or whatever is standing there, an airy and distant female voice calls out,'
"If you mean to attack me, then know that I have no gold on me... and you should probably have brought more men..."
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
'Kay stops in her tracks as the figure speaks looking confused and a little bit embarrassed at having been caught. Even at five and a half feet, the figure is a head taller than Kay, and although her words speak warning, something about her tone makes Kay relax slightly.'
"Attack? No, m'lady that was not my intention. I'm only investigating a mysterious figure, shrouded and nigh invisible in the cold dark."
'Kay shifts into a more casual stance, but keeps her distance, not wanting to test the taller woman.'
"Are you a member of the crew? Apologies if we've already met, I've been meeting a lot of people since last night and it's hard to remember everyone. M'name's Kaitlyn by the by, called Kay by most..."
~♡~
'The woman does not turn around, though pale ringed hands lift from the folds of the cloak briefly to adjust the hood as a particularly strong gust threatens to blow it from the stranger's head. That seemingly distant voice again, with an almost ephemeral quality to it,'
"No Kay, we have not yet met. I would remember if we had, as would you. People in these parts call me memorable... among other things.
And you...This morning I listened among the townsfolk of a brave young woman who almost sacrificed all for her pride and the aid of strangers. As the sun rose high over a hillock outside of town, I listened as that same young woman again almost gave all she was and would ever be in a fight against dark foes. And again this brave little one did so to aid those she hardly knows.
Such deeds are not common in this place, young Kay. Those who perform such deeds do not stay here long. They leave... or they die. As you will, one day soon, I imagine. Still, we may yet come to know one another, even if for only the briefest of moments in this world."
'As the wind howls in from the South West carrying the taste of rock and salt, the woman finally turns in Kay's direction, though Kay instinctively almost wishes that she had not. The fair, smooth skin of the womans hands is not reflected in her face... or what remains of it. A pink and red mass of burnt scar tissue dominates the whole of this stranger's face, her nose and lips all but burnt away and two white orbs barely visible amidst the scarred crevaces of her visage. A tangled flow of bright red hair falls from her head, framing the otherwise horrific disfigurement of her countenance. 'Staring' directly at Kay for a moment, the woman then lowers her head, murmmuring in her clear but disconnected voice,'
"Fear not, Kay. I am no monster come to attack a brave young defender of the Shore. No, I am no monster... not yet, at least."
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
'Kay does her best to govern her emotions, or at least what is shown on her face. It would be comical in other circumstances. She moves to take the woman's hands gently in her own, if the taller woman allows it, throwing back her own cowl as she approaches.'
"I... my lady forgive me. I did not mean to stare. I'm just a simple urchin from Fireshear. You speak of bravery... but I am neither brave, nor good... I... at times I feel I'm only acting out of fear of my own death. But... what happened to your... your... you? Is... is there anything that can be done?"
'Kay is crouched closer to the cloaked woman, doing her best to look her in the eyes with compassion. Kay's orange eyes shine bright in the moonlight, and are full of mixed emotions. How long had she been disfigured in this way? And how much she must have suffered with out anyone to look upon her face? Why must the world be so mercilessly cruel?'
~♡~
"No disrespect, master dwarf. I am the Shore Shark's new resident mage, and it is me duty to make sure that we are using the best systems at hand. The mangonel is beautiful, a classic. The work that it will do on these voyages, hunting dem pirates. I can't wait to see one in action." Virt leans against the railing and looks down at the dwarf and back up at Hurley, "Argrin, aye? And an engineer ye say? I may be able to use yer expert mind to help me craft new weapons systems fer this here ship. Have ye ever thought about what is the next evolution of ship to ship warfare? Fer how many of years have ye fought the same way, using the same systems against these feckless bastards who ply their trade of robbery and thievery on the seas?"
Standing straight up, Virt walks past the dwarf and looks back towards the town. He sees the stillness of the small town, how placid the buildings are with smoke coming from their chimneys. This was a place to call home, a place for safety. But if they failed at their jobs, then who would protect these good people?
Virt turns around and squats down so that he is almost face-to-face with Argrin, "Help me do better. Help me design and make something that will not only stoke fear in de heart o' e'ery pirate on the seas but will cement our names in the history books of our people. A dwarven engineer should be there to make the best weapon on the seas. Some o' the best engineers in me eyes this world knows."
"...Debts must always be paid, sometimes in more than blood and gold. But this is Ordo Ursa," Ren places his hand on Erakas's chest, right where the Dragonborn's heart is. "Right here. And it always has been and always will be. Don't ever forget that. Because I won't."
Serandis Mendaen (Aereni Elven Rogue/maybe one day Wizard)- Project Point Playtest
'The scarred woman's cowled head remains low, though her white orbs briefly flick up to meet those of her young conversationalist, almost as though they are still capable of sight. Despite the blindness clearly apparent in that gaze, there is something in those eyes, an expression, an understanding perhaps... A brief smile touches the stranger's lips, as one long-fingured hand emerges from the voluminous folds of her cloak to casually indicate her face,'
"Worry not about offending this outcast woodswoman, sweet girl. I am well past caring of such things. And no, there is nothing that can be done... or at least nothing that should be done.
And humble beginnings do not mark one forever, my dear. You are brave, Kay, though it is our actions which truly brand us as such. As brave... or good. Your denial means no more than the opposite assertions of our good lady, the Dubol.
Enjoy your time with your new shipmates and companions, Kay. Though the wise mark carefully the oft and easily overlooked distinction. Now if you will excuse me, I must retire for the evening. While not old, I find I tire easily these days and I have much work to do tomorrow. Farewell, Kay. Till we meet again."
'Reaching out to lightly pat Kay upon the shoulder as she passes, the strange woman moves up the pier towards the seemingly-distant revelry, though her form quickly fades into the darkening night and wind-blown sea-spray.'
[OOC] Kay can make a perception and insight check. If her revelant scores meet or surpass the DCs below, you may read the relevant spoilers:
Perception DC 10:
'Catching glimpses of the woman's hands, you notice that they are thin and pale, bedecked by odd misshapen rings of wood, bone and coral. The tips of her fingers appear slightly stained a green/black colour.'
Perception DC 15:
'As the stranger passes close, reaching out to pat your shoulder, you catch a whiff of an unfamiliar scent, or scents, like a profusion of wildflowers, spices and herbs. The aroma disssapears quickly, snatched away by the gusting winds.'
Insight DC 15:
'That look... despite the sightlessness of those orbs, there is expression and emotion in that glance. Beyond the all-too-apparent sadness, you sense a well-hidden bitterness and perhaps someting more... though the contact is broken too quickly for you to be entirely certain.
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
'Stunned by the cloaked woman's words of wisdom, Kay stands frozen, still looking out at the sea for but a moment, but that's all that's needed. By the time she turns and begins to say,' "But wait, I... didn't catch your name..." 'The woman is already gone, and Kay's words are lost amidst the crashing of the waves against the shore. Kay holds her stomach, still aching and bruised, which makes it hurt all the more as it rumbles, reporting her ravenous hunger. She starts back toward the gangplank, looking out both for food and for beautiful Lorana, her orange eyes looking almost feral, as she pushes through the crowd.'
[ooc : ability checks from PM]
perception : 18
insight : 20
~♡~
'Argrin grimaces noticeably as Virt reveals his status as Ships Mage, but smiles at the compliment to Hurley, before nodding enthusiastically when the much taller man begins to discuss weapons systems,'
"Oh aye, you'll see her in action right soon, I'm hopin', 'long with meself! I've not fired her yet of course, bein' as new to the ship as yerself, though I've fired and helped build others akin to her.
What do you think of her name? Hurley, because she hurls things, ya know, throwin' stuff. Get it? HA! I thought about Chuck, but she's too pretty to be a fella.
I don't know 'bout 'avin no 'expert mind', but I'm durned handy with me hands. Don't know 'bout no ship-to-ship evolutions neither... that some kind of hybrid paddle-boat? Seen me a riverboat once, ya know. Enough to make a sailor dizzy that paddle-wheel of hers was - evolution after evolution after evolution.
You're right on the anvil 'bout dwarves bein' best at engineerin' though. And if'n you're lookin' to make somethin' that'll put the fear of Moradin in pirate scum, then i'm like to be listenin to what you're proposin'!"
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea
'Kay's search for Lorana across the noisy and crowded dock feels both familiar and welcoming after her strange encounter with the disfigured woman. The raucous laughter, colourful insults and ribald innuendo are a tonic to the puzzled woman's somewhat disquieted spirit, even if the lean sail monkey is bumped and jostled repeatedly as she weaves her way through the tangled mass of drinking, gambling and story telling sailors. Spotting Beril first, Kay watches as the usually business-like woman brazenly flirts with one of the Dubol's guardsmen, leaning into the man as she passes him a tray full of drinks in return for a handful of coins. Running her hand across another guard's shoulders, the unusually beguiling Beril winks and calls out coyly at a nearby sailor, who laughs as he nods, tossing the barmaid a small pouch which dissapears into the woman's loosely laced bodice.
Returning to a make-shift bar made of a couple of planks lain across two hefty kegs, Beril spots Kay and calls out,'
"Ho there, young Kay. Ye look like the kitten searchin' for its milk bowel, ye do. And I'm thinkin' that I know the cream that you're lookin' for, if'n ye take my meanin'!"
'Beril gives the waif a suggestive but gentle wink and kind smile as she nods to the distant street end of the dock, where Kay can just make out the back of a cart loaded with casks and flagons, from which a laughing and singing Lorana is busily dispensing beverages for coin. In a not-dissaproving tone, Beril remarks,'
"She's a lovely lass, and not much older than yerself, If'n me eyes read the truth of things. And I'm not one to get in the way of honest affections, no I'm surely not. Sure'as Vergil's brain is naught but rotmoss, Lorana could do worse than spend time in yer delightful company, lest that's what I'm thinkin'. But if'n we're to make the most of this rare opportunity, and by we I mean herself and meself, then I'm afraid we've little time for dalliances, lest not while there's throats to wet and coins to be gathered."
'Seeing the dissapointment dawning across Kay's face, Beril just loads her tray with another four flagons, gives a light almost wistful laugh and continues,'
"But as'in she's mentioned to me a number of times a heart's desire to stand upon a great ship beneath a star speckled sky, I'm reckonin' that after all is said'n done out here, and business is put to bed so to speak, then Ms Lorana would be greatly inclined she would to visitin' with a certain newly signed sailor upon a certain newly chartered ship."
D&D is a game, but it's not just a game. It's the ultimate storyboard, a campfire to share with friends, an imaginary call to imaginary arms and a ship to sail to horizons yet undreamt of...
DM Trevails Upon the Trackless Sea