D&D 5E Spell & Crossbones

Blackreef's Tavern shows no sign of growing quieter as the night deepens and the first traces of storm winds dance over the roof. Claude du Tourbillon follows after Barrington and Katarina as the negotiation party returns smelling of cigar smoke. Standing over the oblong table, du Tourbillon taps a glass with the back of a fork, uncorking the bottle of calvados which he is surprised to find already opened. He mutters under his breath, "Si la France avait nains nous serions à court de distilleries!" Passing the bottle to Badouin, who begins to pour glasses of the amber apple-pear brandy, du Tourbillon taps the glass one more time to get everyone's attention.

"We've come to an accord, thanks to your Madame du Corazon and Messieur Barrington." He gesture to the two of them, clearly a man for ritual, pomp, and circumstance. Taking up one of the glasses, he raises it to the center of the table. "I propose a toast to our joint venture. To wind at your backs and fortune ahead. Santé."

Badouin bobs his head slightly from side to side, agreeing emphatically in his thick Tamil accent, "Let's find some God-damned treasure!"

Quickleaf said:

Spreading his hands innocently, Badouin accepts that he is, indeed, a natural born bean-counter. "Tub? Ah, I see! I savvy, matey!" He winks, utterly slaughtering proper sailor usage of 'savvy.' "As I understand it, Messieur du Tourbillon expects your captain to procure a vessel thru her own channels as a test of your resourcefulness. I believe his words were: A good captain could master any vessel I procured for him, Badouin, but a great captain would find just the right ship for this venture and his crew. And, par Dieu, I need a great captain to find Lè Gloriosa." With his heavy Tamil accent, Badouin's impression of du Tourbillon is almost comical.

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"Bah. Seems he's other reasons. If we weren't able to procure a boat, he'd be as strung-up as we. Unless he's making this a bidding contract - as in 'first to procure a set of sails procures the advance as well' - then it would make more sense. No insult intended, but if I were to hire a bunch of questionable seamen (and may I die on a pile of coin 'fore I spend it like such a fool), I wouldn't want to play landlord to gripes about every jib, net and rope. Get your own ship and keep your whining at sea, I take his meaning."

"Fine by me. We'll have more left for ourselves at the end, God willing."

Quickleaf said:

Blackreef's Tavern shows no sign of growing quieter as the night deepens and the first traces of storm winds dance over the roof. Claude du Tourbillon follows after Barrington and Katarina as the negotiation party returns smelling of cigar smoke. Standing over the oblong table, du Tourbillon taps a glass with the back of a fork, uncorking the bottle of calvados which he is surprised to find already opened. He mutters under his breath, "Si la France avait nains nous serions à court de distilleries!" Passing the bottle to Badouin, who begins to pour glasses of the amber apple-pear brandy, du Tourbillon taps the glass one more time to get everyone's attention.

"We've come to an accord, thanks to your Madame du Corazon and Messieur Barrington." He gesture to the two of them, clearly a man for ritual, pomp, and circumstance. Taking up one of the glasses, he raises it to the center of the table. "I propose a toast to our joint venture. To wind at your backs and fortune ahead. Santé."

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When du Tourbillon returns, Hugo rises and takes a glass of the brandy offered by Badouin. He clicks his glass against Old Zef's. "To steady waters and bags full of money, you old cripple," he says with a smile as he downs the golden liquid.

“Salud!” Katerina returns the toast, then sips the brandy, attempting not to scrunch her nose at it. This was even sweeter than the last. These soft French! What woman wants a man who enjoys this??

After all the toasts and back patting and farewells, Katerina escorts du Torbillion to the door. “Adiós por ahora Señor,” she says before kissing the man on both cheeks. “Your country’s hello and goodbye, sí?” she grins, watching him try not to be flustered again. “Perhaps when we next meet you will call me Katerina and I will call you Claude, as we are now friends and partners. I will come find you when we have procured the, well, the first step.” She glances out the door briefly, to the worsen storm. “Stay dry out there. Pueden tus dioses te proteja.” With that she sweeps away, returning to her celebrating group.

“Sí , this is a night for celebration mi amigos! But we also have some work to do and some questions to be answered.” She sips at her own rum bottle, it growing emptier. She waves to the barkeep and yells over, “Rum for us all! And be quick about it!” Turning back to the table she drops her voice to a whisper, though not so low that the old folk can’t hear her. “Not all should be discussed here; however here may be where we start. We need to find passage, or a ship of our own. And, an able bodied crew.” She can’t keep the grin from growing into a huge smile, “Seems we’re going on an adventure!” Bella jumps up and down on the table, squeaking in excitement before hopping over to each person, jumping on their heads or shoulders or peeking into pockets and sleeves looking for treasure of her own. Katerina just laughs at her antics.

She keeps her voice low. “So, who has ideas? Firstly, do we want to seek passage on someone else’s ship? If we do there goes another few shares of… whatever we find.” She knew better than to say the words treasure or gold or magic out loud in a place like this. “Our own ship would be ideal, but we will not have enough dinero to purchase our own. Of course there are other way to procure ships… unattended ships… So, we must decide on this.

Secondly, a crew. I know some of you have connections to the type of people we need.” She glances around the room, eyeing the rowdy yet strong and able Corlandians. She can’t keep the corner of her lip from rising up while she studies them. “Perhaps some of what we need is right here,” she leers.

She clears her throat while turning her gaze back to the crew. “Or perhaps that is for later," she chuckles.

“And finally, I believe we should discuss who is actually going to lead this motley crew of ours. So there are absolutely no questions.” The group looks around at each other, as they all had their own thoughts to navigate through.

She studies the newcomer Jim Barrington, a seemingly obvious and worthy candidate in his own right. She had laid into him outside for stepping on her toes and offering treasure without consulting her, and he had kept quiet, whether he deserved it or not. She imagines that whichever of them becomes Captain there would be a lot of head butting and wrestling between the two of them. Hmmmm, maybe I won't even mind it, she wonders while tapping her lips. The thought was fleeting. No, she admonishes herself, This is what you've been working towards for two years. You cannot afford to be distracted by ANYTHING right now. Your life and the life of another depends on it! Get your head together you foolish girl!

She gives her head a little shake then focuses back on the group. She looks at them expectantly, it was time to make decisions and they needed to make them fast.

Quickleaf said:

Blackreef's Tavern shows no sign of growing quieter as the night deepens and the first traces of storm winds dance over the roof. Claude du Tourbillon follows after Barrington and Katarina as the negotiation party returns smelling of cigar smoke. Standing over the oblong table, du Tourbillon taps a glass with the back of a fork, uncorking the bottle of calvados which he is surprised to find already opened. He mutters under his breath, "Si la France avait nains nous serions à court de distilleries!"

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Old Zef raises his glass and in response replies"Si la France avait nains, ce serait un bien meilleur endroit pour vivre!"

Maldavos said:

"To steady waters and bags full of money, you old cripple,"

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And to Hugo he toasts back "A Steady sea does not make a skilled sailor, but yes, I too wish for such"

After the Frenchman leaves, and Katerina has her say Zef pipes in "I don't think we use someone else's tub if we can help it. I can fix up nearly anything that ain't already on the bottom of the briny blue. So I says we find a ship of our own. Either fix up something abandoned, which I am sure our new friend her Badouin can help with. Or we steal one."

Gunner Teague's calvados is drunk before the bottle has time to make it around the rest of the table. It reminds him distantly of a country cider, tasted long ago. The drink goes down smooth, and is easily replaced from a half-finished mug of distinctly watery beer from a nearby table whose occupants, one of the Courlandians and a girl from the town, are now gone on to other pursuits. He raises his glass in answer to du Tourbillon's toast, and goes on looking at him over the lip of the metal tankard in his other hand. [Wisdom (Insight) check to guess at du Tourbillon's Flaws, 1d20(12) + Wis (+3) = 15]

"Aye," says Teague, once Old Zef has spake his peace. "A dram of sweat to the penny spared be a fine swap to my mind. Oft a ship may sail itself into dock, though all hands be carried off by winged things or damned souls. Mayhap a one such as this can be found in Old Nassau Harbour." [Intelligence (History) check to see what I might know about any local ships that fit the bill, 1d20(6) + Int (-1) = 5; would Teague's old age and long service in the Caribbean have any effect on this check? Maybe Old Zef should be making it instead.]

Barrington hills up a finger, to indicate that he'll be back in a moment, and goes off in search of the barmaid who had smiled at him earlier. He presses a coin in her hand as she deftly balances a tray of empty drinks above her head in her other hand.

[sblock=to the barmaid]"I don't suppose there is somewhere more private where my friends and I could continue our conversation? A private dining room not being used, perhaps? We would not need long." Jim smiles at her as if there is more he might say, but then shakes his head. It's all superfluous.

He wants this done, and done quickly, but he is not rushing. He tries to exhibit control.[/sblock]

When he gets his answer he returns to the group.

[sblock=yes]"I've secured a small room for us in which we might continue our conversation more privately." [/sblock]
[sblock=no]"I'm sorry for that delay. Now to business."[/sblock]

The barmaid accepts the silver crown and smiles at Barrington.

[SBLOCK=Barmaid to Barrington]"Yessir, Ms. Van Djik calls it the Captain's lounge. Just there thru that arch, it goes down a narrow corridor to a room of barrels. But don't be letting any of those dwarves in your group be sneaking ale. I'll come find you for drinks when I've a moment." She sways back and forth, hoping he'll stay to chat, but when he doesn't she sighs and carries on serving drinks.[/SBLOCK]

Badouin confers briefly with Msr. du Tourbillon before the latter exits the tavern. It is clear that Badouin treats the man with a grave sort of respect. Odd companions they. Arching his brow at Old Zef's comment on fixing a ship, Badouin agrees, "While I have little skill in repairing ships, I could lend a hand to your Quartermaster with supply acquisitions and estimating costs. I am, as you said, a natural born bean counter." He smiles broadly, raising his glass to Old Zef before finishing off the calvados.

[SBLOCK=Gunner Teague's checks]
[/SBLOCK]

Steeleyes watched.

She'd been watching for some time. Since they'd first let slip that they were seeking Le Gloriosa there in that filthy old inn. When they split up, she followed the only one who's name she knew; Katerina del Corazon. A privateer of some renown in these waters. It hadn't been difficult. The streets were full of wanderers and stragglers, and a few quick adjustments of a cloak could make someone look entirely different from one glance to the next.

And, to be fair, it was pretty clear del Corazon and associates were not particularly concerned with being followed, or eavesdropped upon. Nia wasn't privy to the specifics of every conversation, particularly when del Corazon gone alone with that straight-backed man to speak to the Frenchman alone, but she'd seen enough to get the gist.

The Frenchman was after the fabled cursed treasure of Cartegena. He'd brought these men and women together and made an offer. They'd haggled, then accepted, as the celebration just now proved. Nia was familiar with the comings and goings at the dock, and was pretty sure that none of the ships there belonged to any of them. The Frenchman hadn't taken anyone to the docks either, and it was unthinkable to imagine that he'd have offered the use of a ship, and they had accepted sight unseen.

So right now, even though their lowered tones concealed their words, 'ol Steeleyes knew. They needed a ship.

Fortune smiled.

The straight-backed man stalked to the bar, and Nia decided the time was right. They'd probably be leaving soon, or getting a private room, or otherwise making their company more scarce. She could track them, but that put things on a more adversarial keel, putting them on the defensive. Better to approach before that was necessary and keep that card hidden up her sleeve for the time being.

And so it was, while Barrington spoke to the barmaid, a woman approached the table where Kat and her crew were gathered. He beat her back to the table, but only just. She was dark skinned and pretty, with strong cheeks and chin, full lips and wavy black hair that fell just to her neck; some hanging loose with a few locks in tight braids. Her eyes were large and had the most peculiar hue; a silver-grey gleam like the polished edge of a sword. She wore a tough, weatherbeaten leather overcoat, and presumably some other stuff beneath. Presumably, because the details of her shirt were largely concealed by a plethora of necklaces and pouches affixed to a pair of suspender-like belts, along with little bottles and clay pots and bundles of twigs and herbs. She wore breeches as well; roughspun brown ones that only went down to mid-calf and exposed bare feet.

She went to a spot alongside Katerina's seat and surveyed the table with those strange metallic eyes, then said in a voice richly accented by a mix of French and African and Jamaican, "Forgive my intrusion. I am Nia Steeleyes, and we have business to discuss before de night swallows you up."