Deep Water and Shoals - A Swashbuckling Campaign

[dead_radish]

Malthas nods, quickly, focused on the water. His hands are steady on the wheel, but there is a tiny drop of sweat running down his forehead. His eyes flicker rapidly into the fog, seeking any sign. For some reason, he has also removed his shoes.

OOC: Amusingly, the WotC website has now posted a Way of the Flashing Blades academy.

 

[Bob Aberton]

Nicodemus,

Capt. McCrenshaw nods at you as you present your plan.

"Carry on, Mr. Arfaliunium," he says, peering ahead into the fog. "Anything y'can do t' help would be a blessin' right now..."

As the little will-o'wisps of light flit out ahead of the boat, you can hear one of the sailors give a startled yelp.

"Calypso's nightgown! What's thet?!"

"Shut up, you great ox, it's just the Ship's Mage," Mr. Ames replies sharply.

(OOC: Yes, I will allow this use of Dancing Lights.)

Malthas,

"Anticipatin' a swim, Mr. Swifthand?" Captain McCrenshaw asks dryly, upon seeing your bare feet.

Then, suddenly, you hear the leadsman's shocked voice drift aft, from the bow hidden in fog.

"By the mark FIVE!" CALYPSO'S GRACE draws 4 fathoms; there is a bare six feet between the seabed and her keel. Any sudden plunge into the trough of a wave could ground her and perhaps open her bottom.

"UP HELM! UP HELM! ABOUT SHIP!" Capt. McCrenshaw calls in a stentorian voice.

The men rush to man the braces, some shouting, others whimpering in fear.

(OOC Malthas: Profession: Pilot check, please. And you should sue WotC; they stole your idea;-])

All,

CALYPSO'S GRACE continues to feel her way slowly through the fog, guided by a quartet of ghostly little lights that grope ahead through the fog, like searching fingers.

The mood on deck could not be more solemn if it was a graveyard; the sailors, if they do speak, talk in whispers. The only loud noise is the the leadsman's continued shouting;

"By the mark 10...by the mark 7...by the mark 9...by the mark 13...by the mark five !"

There is sudden shock on deck. The CALYPSO'S GRACE draws 4 fathoms; there is a bare fathom (six feet) of water between the ship's keel and the cruel rocky bottom.

"She's shoaling!" cries the sailor, Lem Harvey, in a choked voice.

"UP HELM! UP HELM! ABOUT SHIP!" Captain McCrenshaw calls from the quarterdeck.

The men rush to man the braces, shouting in fear, though the leadsman and bow lookouts remain at their posts.

 

[kenjib]

Vemuz strides the deck, urgency but not a hint of fear in his eyes. He shoots Lem a steely glare and holds up two fingers in a gesture meant to inform him to keep such comments to himself.

"Keep your heads lads and bring her about. Quick and proper!"

Vemuz grabs the rope to pull the yardarm over and helps to coordinate the sailors as they heave.

 

[garyh]

Bimzoole offered the Cap'n his six potential castings of light if they'll help in the fog.

 

[dead_radish]

Pilot check *crosses fingers*: 8+11=19. Not bad, not great.

Malthas swears loudly, and spins the wheel about, trying to counter the movements of the waves and keep Calypso's Grace at an even keel. (OOC: Lame attempt at nauticaling. )

He calls out to the Captain, "Don't worry, Cap'n - she's a fine ship, and I couldn't put a hole in such a pretty thing."

He grins, and bites his lip slightly.

 

[Uriel]

OoC:'Argh'!!! Well, it was worth a shot to help.
Nico will prepare to use his Animate Rope /Mending as need be if there is any damage to the rig or sails in the colision.

 

[Tonguez]

"Calypso halp us" the Cleric prayed a short and gritty prayer afterall the Lady didn't want flowery words from him when action was more important at this point.

The half-orc grinned as he got in beside the tars ahauling on th braces

(ooc whatever that means)

 

[Bob Aberton]

All,

Slowly, almost agonizingly, the CALYPSO'S GRACE heads downwind and describes a gentle turn, until she is facing out to sea again.

"Set main, mizzen, and fore-topmast studdingsails! Set the maintop staysails!"

Captain McCrenshaw piles sail after sail on to the straining masts, and the CALYPSO'S GRACE claws her way out to sea again.

Malthas,

Captain McCrenshaw looks pleased with you at your quick handling of his ship.

"Job well done, Mr. Swifthand," he says. "Head her due West, now; keep the wind well abaft the beam. We'll see if we can find another way in."

All,

The CALYPSO'S GRACE squares her sails to the wind and now heads due West, slowly picking up speed, nosing for another way through the treacherous shoals. And on the bow, the leadsman takes up his post again.

"By the mark 10...By the mark 10...by the mark 9...by the mark 11..."

 

[dead_radish]

Malthas grins at the Captain and winks. "Aye, that's why ya pay me, eh? If I fell apart in the docking, it isn't much use to do the trip." He wiggles his toes. "And of course, the ship tells me what it is she needs. Ya just have to listen."

 

[Bob Aberton]

Malthas,

"Aye, she's a grand one for talkin', isn't she? Y'can hear right now," Captain McCrenshaw says, his tone conveying fatherly pride in his vessel. "She's a grand one for talkin', Mr. Swifthand. Fairly articulate fer a boat, arn't ya, old girl?" he pats the taffrail affectionately.

Although, if you were to listen closely, the CALYPSO'S GRACE may be articulate, but she does not sound happy right now. Her sails flap and fidget nervously, and her rigging creaks pessimistically.

Nicodemus,

After the excitement of having almost run ashore, you resume looking to your will o'wisps, skimming ahead of the ship, only dimly seen as mere flickers in the fog.

You look closer. One of them, on the lee bow, about 50 yards ahead, appears to have stopped dead. You know what this means...

Bimzoole,

"Well, now, we could do with a little light, Mr. Marper. If y' could light up our bowsprit, I'd be much obliged..."

All,

Still blanketed, quilted, and buried in thick fog, CALYPSO'S GRACE forges onward to the monotonous note of the leadsman...

"By the mark 7...By the mark 8...By the mark 7...By the mark 7...By the mark 10...By the mark 13...By the mark 9..."