It's Probably Pirates - Part 1
t's a grey, foggy day. The sort of day that leeches the warmth from everything- and an ill omen if you listen to the sailors at the docks. Regardless, the winds of trade blow without regard for superstition, and Alexandria thrives on trade with its neighbors, none more so than those across the Inmost sea. Nasir Holdings and Commodities are the clients of the day, a trading company based out of Veyshan who regularly send shipments to and from Alexandria's docks. Of late, some of their ships have gone missing and they suspect foul play- not least because of all the blood they found on the adrift hulk of one of their missing ships when it showed up off the Veyshan coast.
As such, they have arranged a special shipment. Instead of its usual cargo, the ship will be carrying a small band of adventurers. The hope is that the ship will appear a ripe target for the raiders who have been pillaging vessels, and they will be in for a rude awakening when they find steel instead of gold. Preparations are almost complete, and the ship waits at the docks to cast off when the party are aboard.
Finally, some actual enforcement work. While rebelling against large tyrannical kingdoms was fulfilling and all as a Serrielite, doing something more down to earth- or rather, water- felt a lot more tangible to complete. Warrick is easily caught with an oilrag polishing his helmet as he ambles idly around the deck of the ship, eyeing various spots that would allow for a suitable reverse ambush. "How long is the voyage from here to Veyshan?" he idly asks one of the clients.
Zelany arrives at the docks relatively early, for it impresses the clients. Usually. Her black robes have been reinforced with a long, leather cloak, with the inside lined with fur, and it includes a hood. Warm black mittens and her long, white scarf completes her Winter. The scarf trails along behind her in the winds.
When asked to go aboard, she leans heavily upon her skull-topped staff, and settles aboard on shaky legs.
She cants her head at the taller adventurer, and she looks to the crew to see whom would answer.
"With luck, they will ambush just out of sight of land. We can best them and turn around for home.", she offers, her voice muffled by her scarf.
Bryn doesn't mind grey and foggy; it's better than alot of other possibilities. Skin-scouring sandstorms, flesh-eating acidic rain, bone-breaking hail, just to name a few. Also, they get to rid in a ship! That's new for her, and new is always exciting. She walks the (gang) plank to step aboard, eye flitting over the ship.
"So we just waitin inside ta jump out at 'em when they show up? Oughtta be scary!" She grins tuskily. "For 'em, not us."
"With a favourable headwind?" the deckhand Warrick adressed says, turning his gaze up from the knot he was tying to a flag hanging damply from the windless mast, before pulling a face. "A few days, but doesn't look like the wind is blessing our sails, and we stick to the coast in the colder months besides. A week, maybe ten days." he estimates. "We've got more than enough provisions for the voyage, and like your little friend says, we can turn about once the job is done. Or at least put to land somewhere to take on goods. She doesn't like sailing with an empty hold." he says and pats the wooden rail of the ship, before going back to making sure everything is secure.
"That's the plan." one of the other crew tells Bryn. "They jump us, you jump 'em right back. We're no strangers to a bit of piracy, but none of us are soldiers. We'll stow ourselves belowdecks at the first sign of trouble, and bar the doors." he offers her a gap-toothed grin to her tusky one.
There's a shout from the docks, which is echoed shortly by the first mate. "All aboard who's coming aboard!" he yells into cupped hands. "Alll aboard!" he repeats a few moments later, before the crew work on hauling in the gang plank and the dock workers cast off the moorings. A few brisk minutes of work later, and they are away. With the wind offering absolutely no help at the moment, the boat is dragged to the end of the docks by aurochs, and then oars take over from belowdecks.
Warrick gives a sharp nod towards the deckhand and Zelany. "Got it. Either way, we go home early or I get to catch up on some reading." He does seem a touch surprised that Bryn boards onto the ship, his gaze drifting to one of her limbs before giving a wave. "Sounds like a plan," he says to the others. "We can figure out the details on the way." He finds a place to settle down and get out of the way as they cast off. Eventually he pulls out a small sack, and offers a tiny handful of brown taffy to the others. "Ginger taffy. If you get seasick." He's already macking on it while pulling on a grey overcoat that covers his armor.
The Gnome goes quiet as the crew respond, and she nods as her theory as to what's expected is shared by the deckhand. "With luck, we might be able to dissuade them from attacking or boarding. Though I suspect that in order to put an end to this willful plundering is to chose violence and see the pirates dead."
She frowns lightly at this idea. The offer of ginger taffy has her shaking her head. "No thank you, sir. I have undertaken a few sea journeys, and I am not badly affected by seasickness. I do appreciate it, however!"
Her eyes go to Bryn then, and she stares. "Will they even dare if she steps to the rails to greet them?"
Of course it's not until they are shoving (shoved?) off and Bryn is comfortable watching over the rail that she realizes the expected time at sea. "A tenday?" she blinks, then turns her eye to the deck. "Hope ye got lotsa ale down there. Long time ta be cooped up 'ere with nothin much ta do." She spies Warrick's glance and eyes him as she adds, with a smirk, "I ain' much fer sittin still. Ooh, sweets!"
Her line of thoughts promptly switch tack and she extends out her left hand to nab a piece of taffy. Her right forearm (or what remainds, juding by size) is wrapped up with simple cloth strips, though more for warmth than bandaging. Once she's chewing, she gives Warrick a "Thanks. Ye plannin ta do nothin but readin 'n polishin yer helmet the whole way?"
The Gnome then grabs her attention with her comment and Bryn throws her a grin. "I hope so! Always funny when they run 'way, but ain' so much fun. Ey. Brynhildragar," she offers an introduction (since they're going to be here together for a bit). "Friends call me Bryn. Enemies call me all sorts o' things."
Soon enough the ship is steadily bobbing its way away from the docks, with the lack of wind, the water is calm, but it does make for slow going as they push off. It's not until the docks begin to shrink on the horizon that a few wisps of a breeze begin to lick at the furled sail. The captain orders that the sail be opened up, and the oarsmen below get a respite for the time being. The grey weather doesn't seem to be localized to the land, though, and even the light breeze is not enough to push away the fog and mist, hiding the shore from view much sooner than distance alone could. The sky is a milky haze of diffuse cloud- which is better than angry grey stormclouds, to be sure, but makes for a dour start to the journey.
"I would prefer to have to have to fight them, but they must have consequences for their action," Warrick shrugs, handing off some ginger chews to Bryn as he sets his things aside. He nods once at the thanks, then quickly chuckles. "Perhaps read, I'd rather not polish a hole through the thing. Maybe can show you a few things with that bow if you got it with you if you're /really/ bored," he lightly smirks.
He looks over to Zelany. "Name's Warrick Retzner," he introduces, foot tapping against a large crossbow resting beside him. "Just a merc for hire."
His gaze drifts off into the clouds and fog. It was nice. Calm even. "Perfect cover for an ambush," he idly notes aloud, even though they've barely made it through Alexandrian water.
"Zelany Skullsdottir.", she replies to Brynhildragar with a bright smile, doffing her hat momentarily. "Sometimes it is better to win a fight without fighting at all, yes? A sea battle has extra peril. If there is a fire on either ship, then it becomes desperate. Kill them and take their ship is the order of the day. So we shall see what comes, and what we can do about it."
She doffs her hat to Warrick then, nodding, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir." Zel sighs lightly. "It would be nice to catch up on some reading, certainly. The latest Nec... Wizard's Monthly just came out, so it will be nice to delve into that."
Bryn nods at Zelany. "Ye, maybe not set everythin on fire, but I still like me some scrappin." Back to Warrick, she grins wider. "Always up fer learnin new tricks, even if I ain' gonna be loosin arrows jus' yet. NOt 'less ye know a way I can tie it on or summin. Course, we got nothin bu time, now, ye?"
The afternoon presses on, and the breeze picks up a little, but still barely enough to keep the half sail filled and not enough to dispel the cloying fog completely- though that does thin out somewhat. The sun droops in the sky, shading the cloud cover yellow and then orange, and the lanterns are lit above and below decks. The first several hours of the voyage are uneventful, and dinner is called in the galley. Curried mutton and fresh vegetables, being as they are less than a day from port- it's a short voyage, anyway, so with luck they won't have to resort to the hard tack and salt fish, but even so the fresh meat and veg need eating first.
Afternoon passes into evening, and the sun drops beyond the horizon shortly after the sky begins to set, so that they go to the galley by sunset and emerge by moonrise- not that they can see the moon through the haze of grey clouds that still blot the sky. Evening presses on towards nightfall, and the topic of night watch is broached by the ships lookout. "We've a watch schedule, and we'll stick to that." he's informing Warrick. "But I won't say no to an extra set of eyes. It's up to you, though, might be better if you're all rested should something happen in the night." he offers.
The Gnome hmms. "I am able to see better in the dark due to a quirk with Gnomish eyes. Depends on how thick the fog gets, but I think some moonlight will on the offing tonight. If someone would wake me for the darkest part of the watch, I am willing to assist." She looks to Bryn, "She should be able to see better at night as well, if you ask her, perhaps she can assist also."
Glancing to the ship's lookout, "Depending on what happens, it is probably better to have at least one of us awake, to take immediate action while the others are roused."
"I can watch with you all. Better for me to be there right away than hauling my ass up to deck," Warrick points out with a fork of his half eaten mutton and veggies. "I'm always tired, so it makes no difference to me."
He nods towards Zelany. "There is that. Can't see in the dark like these two can."
Bryn takes advantage of the hot, fresh food while she can. That is, she inhales and shovels. Between shovels, she nods. "I'll take up watchin fer trouble inna dark with ye both. Easier ta find it if yer watchin for it, right?" At Warrick's mention of being tired, she laughs and gives him an encouraging swat to his shoulder. "Stop wearin yerself out alla time, or save up for summin good?"
Once arrangements are settled on, the ship begins to wind down for the night. Of course, a vessel at sea never truly sleeps, but there is a lot of work which it's just not practical to do by lamplight and so it does become quieter. The lookout that spoke with Warrick remains in his crows nest, and Warrick has the run of the ship to pick where he will watch from and wile the hours away until someone comes to relieve him.
GAME: Warrick rolls perception: (8)+7: 15
Warrick shrugs at Bryn. "Trust me, I am taking it easy. I'd be back in the Watch if I wanted to wear myself out more."
He opts to sit at the back of the ship, up atop anything to get a clear view of the deck. He focuses more on the deck itself rather than looking out into the night. It's going to be practically useless trying to see out into that fog. Thankfully (and perhaps, woefully), nothing goes remiss for the night, as he swaps out with one of the adventuring crew to get some sleep in.
GAME: Bryn rolls perception: (13)+9: 22
GAME: Bryn rolls knowledge/nature: (2)+3: 5
Bryn may have saved some mutton from dinner (or acquired some more) to gnaw on as she sits and watches out over the night. Can't watch the stars (or even the water) with all the fog and clouds, so there really isn't all that much to watch, really. So she munches mostly, and listens. Big ears are also handy in the dark, and one twitches.
She stands up, stops chewing, and tilts her head to listen more intently. The oruch also makes her way towards the others as she does so. After another moment, she gives Warrick a nudge, then Zelany, with a whispered, "Ey. Get up. Think something's comin."
Though the fog dulls sounds, they penetrate it better than do sights. By the time Warrick and Zelany are roused, they can hear it too. The rhythmic splashing of oars in water. It's definitely drawing nearer. And now, too, there is a hazy glow in the fog- a lantern, perhaps. Their own lanterns are flickering, even caged against sea spray the pervasive damp of the fog is making their wicks fight to draw fresh oil into the flames.
There is something strange about this light, though. It's an unusual colour- a sickly, pallid shade of green.
The Gnome just doesn't want to be awoken at first, pressing back against the nudge with a little hand. But her eyes soon flick open, her expression looking sleepy and startled. Sleepartled. Luckily she doesn't shout or scream, and gets up, rubbing her eyes and blinking blearily at Bryn.
Her ears perk up slightly at the sound of oars hitting the water, and Zelany gestures to the side of the ship thet sound is coming from. "Do we let them on or should we kill them in the water?", she wonders softly.
GAME: Zelany refreshes spells.
Warrick quickly rouses, used to sleeping so lightly and being ready at a moment's notice. He's already leaning over to the side from where he was snoozing, yanking on pieces of armor that were prearranged earlier. He glances over towards the light as he's sliding an arming cap on. "Green is a bad color," he mutters, glancing at their own lanterns having a hard time staying lit. He fishes out a palm sized marble from a pocket, a soft white glow illuminating from it as he releases it, the stone hovering in the air next to his head as he fastens buckles. "We don't want them to get away without consequence. Zelany, go warn the crew to lay low."
"A bad color, eh?" Bryn eyes Warrick for a long moment, then breaks into a tusked grin. "Bad for 'em!" she points at the green light. To that end, she then gets herself ready, which is really just quietly drawing a (shorter than her norm) blade with her good hand. "I'll peek at what's happenin'..." Warrick's getting ready, Zelany was sent to warn the crew, so that leaves b
"A bad color, eh?" Bryn eyes Warrick for a long moment, then breaks into a tusked grin. "Bad for 'em!" she points at the green light. To that end, she then gets herself ready, which is really just quietly drawing a (shorter than her norm) blade with her good hand. "I'll peek at what's happenin'..." Warrick's getting ready, Zelany was sent to warn the crew, so that leaves Bryn to go look into the trouble.
The lookout is already scrambling his way down the rigging, having spotted that green glow by now as well. "Don't like the look of that, that's an ill omen if I ever saw one." he says, and makes a brief gesture against bad luck before he and the handful of crew that had been abovedecks retreat.
Warrick has time to get his armor on before the source of the green glow emerges from the mist, the vapors coiling around it and washing off of a longboat manned by... well, at first blush, by animate clumps of matted seaweed and rusted metal. But as they come more fully into view, it's clear they were once men. Now they are rotten, bloated flesh clinging to barnacle encrusted bones. Shaggy beards tangled with rotting seaweed. Northern raiders, far from home, and long deceased. Standing at the aft of the ship their apparent captain regards the merchant vessel with a twisted snarl, a malevolent glow emanating from sunken sockets.
Warrick just manages to get his gauntlets strapped in and his helmet on his head as he rises to his feet, crossbow in hand. Only for his visor to turn towards... his frame tenses. "... I. Hate. Undead," he seethes. "Belay previous suggestion, make sure they can't board. Men have morale. These don't."
He rushes forth, hunkering to the rail and slotting a bolt in as he peers over the side. "... and they have a leader." Target acquired.
GAME: Zelany rolls knowledge/undead: (11)+knowledge/undead: 11
GAME: Zelany rolls knowledge/religion: (6)+7: 13
Bryn might still be thinking they could be scared off, like Zelanay said. Maybe that's why she heads to the near rail. Or it could just be to put her up front and in a good 'don't let them onboard' position. "Heards lots about things ye don' like," she asides to Warrick. "Have to learn more o' what ye do like sometime."
The Gnome goes to the edge of the ship with the others, and lets out a breath. Squinting, she sighs. "We need to figure out where they are coming from. Is that leader undead also?" Zelany rubs at her cheek a bit.
"These are draugr. Drowned men who didn't get laid to rest, and have come back to eke out a miserable existence. They may all be naturally made... or something or someone created them."
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ATTENTION -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Culix has dropped a TIMESTOP!
Please +init, then cease all roleplay and actions immediately and wait for Culix to instruct you further. You may earn RPP by logging a scene for a GM.
For in-combat commands, type: +thelp.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 18.
It is now Warrick's turn! Draugr Raider 4 is next!
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-2: (17)+12+-2: 27
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16-2: (18)+12+-2: 28
GAME: Warrick rolls xbowdamage: aliased to 1d10+4: (10)+4: 14
GAME: Warrick rolls xbowdamage: aliased to 1d10+4: (4)+4: 8
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 15.
It is now Draugr Raider 4's turn! Zelany is next!
Warrick side eyes Zelany. "Someone leading undead makes it not matter what they are." A look to Bryn. "I'd be happy to share that, but for now-"
The arbalest jumps up out of cover, slamming the crossbow on the railing and shouldering it. Using the rail as a pivot, he lines up and fires one, wheel crank, fire two! Both bolts slam center mass! "Laying on the leader- what the shit? Bolts aren't working well! Is it like zombies? Do we need to cut them?" he asks quickly, ducking back down and reloading.
Once near the merchant vessel, the longboats oarmen set down their oars and pick up hand axes and round wooden shields- rusted and rotten as they are, but their notched and jagged edges still gleam in the dark. They leap overboard, hurtling through the water towards the boat, and as one draws near it starts climbing up the deck, bony fingers gripping the ridges in the wood as it hauls itself up hand over hand, eventually getting one arm over the railing of the ship right in front of Bryn.
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 14.
It is now Zelany's turn! Draugr Raider 3 is next!
GAME: Zelany rolls 1d20+2: (10)+2: 12
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 14.
It is now Draugr Raider 3's turn! Draugr Raider 1 is next!
Zel smacks herself on the forehead. "I'm sorry... I neglected to mention that they are somewhat resistant to attacks that pierce... something about having absorbed a lot of water makes such attacks less effective. And uh... they can practically run on water."
Her expression betrays nervousness mixed with excitement. "Uhm, they also can make you feel seasick... nausea and a bit of weakness around the knees."
The Gnome acks.. "Look out!" The diminutive woman runs a few steps forward to whack at the draugr as it pulls itself up onto the railing.
Another of the Draugr follor suit, leaping into the water after the first and hauling itself up the outside of the ship- its voice is a wet, gurgling moan as it climbs, and begins to haul itself over the railing between Warrick and the other two.
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 12.
It is now Draugr Raider 1's turn! Bryn is next!
The third would-be raider leaps off, but unlike his decaying comrades does not make for the nearside of the boat. This one dives deeper into the briny water, swimming down beneath the ship's keel and out of sight.
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 11.
It is now Bryn's turn! Draugr Raider 2 is next!
GAME: Bryn refreshes special ability pools.
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 5.
It is now Draugr Raider 2's turn! Warrick is next!
GAME: Bryn spends ONE use of BARDIC PERFORMANCE.
And another raider dives beneath the waves, heading towards the front of the ship before ducking beneath the surf as it too seems to be taking an underwater detour.
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round One - Init 4.
It is now Draugr Raider 5's turn! Draugr Raider Captain is next!
GAME: NEW ROUND!
Culix advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 21.
It is now Draugr Raider Captain's turn! Warrick is next!
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 18.
It is now Warrick's turn! Draugr Raider 4 is next!
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16+1: (20)+12+1: 33 (THREAT)
GAME: Warrick rolls weapon16+1: (14)+12+1: 27
GAME: Warrick rolls xbowdamage+1xbowdamage+1: aliased to 1d10+4+1xbowdamage+1: (7)+4+1xbowdamage+1: 12
GAME: Warrick rolls xbowdamage+1+xbowdamage+1: aliased to 1d10+4+1+1d10+4+1: (4)+4+1+(4)+4+1: 18
"Their dead 'n drown'd, but still sailin round?!" Bryn blinks at the update (and very ugly mugs in her face). She opens her mouth again, though this time the words are belted in contralto, with an edge. "They be dead, but were still livin. So they're takin beatins that we be givin!" She's improvising, and not just relying on tried and true ballads of bashing skulls. Though those could apply here, too.
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 15.
It is now Draugr Raider 4's turn! Zelany is next!
GAME: Culix rolls 6: (14)+6: 20
GAME: Bryn rolls fort: (14)+4: 18
GAME: Culix rolls 1d6+3: (2)+3: 5
Warrick grimaces at the delayed information. But he doubles down his aim on the captain, taking a moment to line it up, even as one starts to get on the deck... twang! The bolt sails and sinks into the captain's neck.
He quickly breaks away, pulling out a longsword and sliding up next to Zelany. "Zelany, back up. They're diving under to flank us on the other side!" he quickly barks, helmeted visor whipping back and forth to keep the battlefield assessed.
Undeterred by Zelany's attempt to dislodge it with her staff, the Draugr up in Bryn's face seems equally unmoved by her lymerik as he draws his axe and brings up his shield. He swings the axe towards the oruch, striking her firmly. Up close and personal, his stench is truly awful- a combination of the grime from the depths of the ocean and the decay of waterlogged flesh. She keeps her mutton down, for now, though.
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 14.
It is now Zelany's turn! Draugr Raider 3 is next!
GAME: Zelany rolls 1d20+2+1: (17)+2+1: 20
GAME: Zelany rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 14.
It is now Draugr Raider 3's turn! Draugr Raider 6 is next!
GAME: Culix rolls 6: (3)+6: 9
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 14.
It is now Draugr Raider 6's turn! Draugr Raider 1 is next!
Zelany manages a solid thonk on top of the Draugr's head, and she casts a glance at Bryn, a smile as the oruch sings a jaunty song to lift their spirits. The Gnome looks to Warrick and begins to back off.
"I realize that they are going underneath the ship... but shouldn't we bash the crap out of these two, before the others get here?"
GAME: Culix rolls 4-2: (1)+4+-2: 3 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 12.
It is now Draugr Raider 1's turn! Bryn is next!
And as though summoned by being talked about, one of the flankers announces its emergence with a splash and the sound of clawing its way up the far side of the boat. It emerges over the railing, pulling itself onto the ship with a death rattle groan.
At the same moment, a javelin sails past Warrick's head, lodging itself into the railing at the far side of the boat. Its thrower, standing at the edge of the long boat, stares at him with milky rotten eyes.
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 11.
It is now Bryn's turn! Draugr Raider 2 is next!
GAME: Bryn spends ONE use of BARDIC PERFORMANCE.
GAME: Bryn rolls weapon8+1: (10)+6+1: 17
GAME: Bryn rolls damage8+1: aliased to 1d8+3+1: (8)+3+1: 12
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 5.
It is now Draugr Raider 2's turn! Draugr Raider 5 is next!
"Cut '
GAME: Culix advances the initiative order.
Round Two - Init 4.
It is now Draugr Raider 5's turn! Draugr Raider Captain is next!
"Cut 'em up deep! Slash 'em good!" Bryn belts, possibly having exhausted her improvisation for the moment. She does encourage by example, though, focusing a bit of her gifts into the blade before making a heavy swing into the one that hit her. This opens it up (and probably doesn't improve the smell), but it's still upright. Probably because it doesn't really need all the things spilling onto the deck. EVen so, Bryn adds a "Ha! I've eatin things't smelled worse then ye!"
GAME: Culix rolls 4-2: (9)+4+-2: 11
The other flanker emerges onto the deck, drawing his own axe and shield as he takes a soggy step towards the party, mouth twisted into a vicious snarl, and green fog issuing forth from between rotten teeth.
Another javelin comes sailing onto the deck, again failing to find its mark- this one doesn't land true, but hits the deck and skids a ways before rolling against the kickboard.
The captain points towards the party on the boat, his eyes burning with rage. As the first two bolts land in his chest, he sweeps them away breaking the shafts with a swing of one arm and issues a rasping, waterlogged laugh. The laugh is cut short as the third bolt sticks him right in the throat. He opens his mouth wide, as though to shout or scream, but a cloud of thick, foul fog boils forth instead and billows towards the party on the boat.