PIRATES! Tales of the Flaming <censored>!

GREETINGS! I'll open this up simply by doing the typical 5 W's and 1 H.

Who: Mocker, semi-mad spirit shaman and his faithful were-bear monk guardian Uquilli and various ships folks.

What: Explore the open seas PIRATE! style on the soon to be great ship Flaming <censored>

When: D&D time frame. semi-low magic.

Where: Open water size of Gulf of Mexico. For now.

Why: We got bored of going down in the earth so we figured a PIRATE! adventure would be fun.

How: Every 2 weeks or therabouts we get together.

Our group each gets 2 PC's to run, this way in case someone is missing we can move on.

Story will be journal like, tuned to the mad rantings of a deranged old man guarded by a doting mother bear and surrounded by homicidal and psychopathic shipmates with a Necromancer for a Captain. Floating Asylum as it may.

Questions. Comments. Concerns always welcome. I'll answer what I can.

Update 1: This should give a feel for a touch of the backstory linking my PC's to another player who's the captain. I've added in the brown to differentiate between the 2 stories. Writing styles, I feel, are vastly different. This will allow me to float between one pc to the next when they do seperate, which is often.

Mocker

Dear Diary,

I hate the sea. Always have. Always will. She’s a cold, dark, dreary mistress. Rain is cold. Water is cold. Always raining. Then hot. Hot’s just as bad. Stuck on deck. Sweat drenched. Why? Why did I come here on this ship. I swore off ships. No more to the sea. She calls I say no. Mocks me. Mocks the Mocker? Irony. Gods command me to go so I must. She suggests I write so I do. Why? Curse them both with this ship. Small ship it is, yet rocks like one of the ones I’ve been on for decades. Old? No. Old to the land. Young to the sea. Five times fingers pass my years. More to come? If the sea allows it. Curse her with the ship ten times over.

Begins, begins, there’s always a beginning is there not? It starts when your right foot is put first on the boat you will be sailing with. Not before. Not the left, only the right. Till then you are nothing. You don’t belong to her. You belong to the earth. To land. Sea is different, all things on her belong to her. Captain finds me in Craptown. Thieves, liars, scum live here. Name befits the place where the captain of the Flaming <censored> found me. Here I drank. Some bar. No name worth remembering where she strolled in with him. Uquilli. Damn her very soul. She knew I didn’t want to go back. The captain talked. Skinny fellow, pale, deathly pale asked me questions. Talk like all captains talk. Fast, smooth, silky. I disliked him from the start. Job? What job? Back to the ocean? Yes I’ll drink more. When? Now? Dark is better. Fine. I’ll be there. Captain look to her. Tall, graceful, vicious. I know better. I smile. Captain takes that for my answer. I’ve sold my soul to the sea again. I drink more and watch the captain as Uquilli comes and drinks. Quiet. Always quiet, she looks at me with her eyes and smiles. Age and wisdom in those eyes consume me. Another round as the captain shakes hands with a man. Bottle almost gone Captain says we have a job now. I’m crew again. I swore off it. No more. Too old. Too tired. Let me stay on land. We? “Guarding this guy” he says with his thumb pointing at the man he was talking to. Uquilli’s hand grips my legs. I feel nails clawing into my flesh. Blood. I yelp with pain. She must not like him. I must be wary. Yes. I drink faster, maybe this is all a dream.

“It’s time.” She says to me. I rise. Body moving on its own. A thousand spirits move me. Hands guide me to the ship. Captain asks if the undead bother me. Undead? Why? He grins as we sail and introduces me to the rest of the crew. Rapists. Murders. Pirates. I know them well. Brothers all of them. They ask if I will survive on the sea. I hack as I laugh and stagger the bow of the ship and rest beside Uquilli. Her warm fur envelopes me as the skeleton walks by. Birds silent. Water peaceful. Eyes closing as the crew do their work. I hate the sea.

Mocker

Dear Diary,

Sea day. Pain. Growling. Yells. “Captain!” I hear. My stomach hurts. Someone put a boot there. She didn’t like that. Half-orc is bleeding from his thigh. Stupid fool. I stand up and wretch over the side. Time to attend to the screaming idiot. I tell him to sit, look at the cut. Scratch. He got off easy. I tell him this. He curses Uquilli. I inform him that isn’t nice things to say as I put my thumb into the wound. Pressure applied. He screams some more. Captain comes over. I wave him off as his wound is tended. Destination? Island chain. Name? He tells me as I heave again over the side and wipe the vomit off my mouth. I nod in understanding missing the entire conversation. I explore the ship. Big enough. 12 men on board. Captain’s pet skeleton doesn’t count. Its lifeless eyes guard his door. Wonder what’s inside? Not my business. I find some food and bring it to Uquilli. She’s meditating at the bow. Must be midday or so. I offer her the food and she eats it happily. I use my fingers. No time for silverware. Captain orders us to make ourselves useful. Old bones creak as the ship does her dance with the sea. No land in sight. I repair a sail that got torn loose from the wind. Must be the new crew. Some don’t look like they’ve ever been on the boat. Handful of them has. They walk with the ship not against it. Walk always tells the true meaning of a sailor. This might not be too bad a voyage.

Lookout yells. I follow his outstretched hand. Black shapes on the horizon. A ship? No they are airborne, coming fast. Lots of them. Captain yells for all hands to be ready as they approach us. I grab my javelins and toss them from hand to hand. Nervous. How long has it been since I’ve been here? Dozens of times. They come. Rainstorm of rocks comes down on our heads. Screeching sounds. I throw. One falls as sounds of crew in pain. More fall onto our boat. Screeching is louder. Pain. Blackness. I stagger. Some land on the ship. Monkies with wings? Wounded they attack the crew. It’s over in seconds as swords win over claws every day. Howls and screeching fades as they fly off leaving their dead behind. I tend to the wounded as best I can. Thanks get mumbled my way. Ungrateful. They always are.

When all is done I grab the body that was caught on the rigging. Omens. Signs. Let the spirits answer me if there is more. Blood and gore cover my hands as I grab its heart and bite it. Foul nasty blood. I cast it with the eyes. Both roll over and face down. Captain asks me what is it. Bad omen I tell him. Eyes face down to the sea. He nods. Crew looks worried. One tells them to ignore the ranting of an old man. Uquilli puts her hand on my shoulder. I shudder. Blood. I smell it. Death approaches us. I lookup and see the passenger. He and the captain talk. I follow him. There. I know it now. They shake hands. Reassurances. I know what he knows. I must divine further. I bemoan the lack of bodies. Efficient crew. No more to tell. The wind picks up. We approach our destination faster than expected. Tomorrow is the day. Dry land. Away from the sea.

Uquilli


Matron Den Mother,
May this missive reach you in good health and warm lodging. I am recording this as part of the requirements placed upon me, Uq’uilli, daughter of G’aanesh and Tal’dashen. I do hope my sylvan is legible as it is very difficult to write on the ocean. Let me start whence I left the Gathering.

The parting was not like I had imagined it to be. Several days out I had begun to ponder my decision for this mission. I requested to be put on this task personally due to the circumstances surrounding my charge but I was taken aback by the changes since last I had ventured from the pack. I finally came out of my shell within a day of Craptown and prepared myself to find this Captain that you had sent me to find.

Entering the town proved to be a bit more challenging than the other villages we had traded with. Many more people here and I had to disguise as a human instead of walking about with my paws touching the earth. After guiding him from place to place we settled on a small inn near the shore where he could rest and I could find the good Captain.

The docks were a maze of people coming and going, ships sailing in and going out, twas mid afternoon so many dock workers were finishing off the last of their loading before dark hit so they could enjoy the evening. I do admit that I had to use force twice upon inquirers who thought I was within their bounds to ‘touch’. It was regrettable but I found that I was informed of the location of the ship in question faster. Perhaps this is how the city dwellers do things? When I begin my period of meditation I will seek to explore this notion further.

Upon locating the Captain he was nothing like I had expected. Most of the river folk who lived in barges with whom we trade on occasion had more of an air of approachability than he. He smiled when he met me, his voice had a tone of malevolence to it, and he wiped his pale brow as he read the note that you sent to me. He inquired immediately upon wanting to meet with the entire party. I mentioned the name of the tavern and he said there was business there he had to handle anyway. He spoke to the rest of the crew issuing commands stating he would be back shortly. The crew looked my way and started laughing as we walked off. Upon my return I corrected them of any false notions, but I get ahead of myself.

Mocker was, to put in the gentlest of terms, drunk when I found him. Already several bottles of whisky had been consumed and he was finishing another one as I introduced the Captain to him. He started asking questions but the Captain reassured him of his task. He attempted to renege on the contractual arrangement but he failed miserably. All the time with him he spoke highly of wanting to return to the ocean but when the chance came upon him he did not wish to go? Very odd for him to behave this way. The Captain excused himself and went to another table and spoke to another gentleman there, Mocker proceeded to order another bottle of booze and poured me a cup, I declined of course, I’m on business and cannot have the effects of alcohol degrade my skills. Upon his return the Captain told us that we had a new job to do escorting a gentleman to his workshop on an island chain. I felt the hackles of my neck rise and my claws must have come loose as Mocker let loose with a yelp. Penitence must be made for that. We agreed to meet back on the boat before dark as we would sail into the night to reach our destination. The man was paying for an expedient trip and I was anxious to see what this ‘sailing’ was about.

After escorting him to the boat, half carrying and half dragging while he mumbled along the way. We settled on deck just as the ship was about to depart. I settled into the bow of the boat making sure all eyes were now on the very large bear that occupied the previous space I was in. Watching the waves roll off as the boat pulled away from the shore, I can see now why Mocker talked about the soothing calm of it all. My charge was blissfully snoring away as the boat rocked gently into the night.


Yours,
Uq’quilli
Forest Walker